Robert Wickham for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Building upon a craft: one man’s near-century journey
By Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)

Robert Wickham arrived in Athens because of a Napoleonic coach.
From the 1930’s through the 60’s, The Fisher Body Craftsman’s Guild (a division of General Motors) sought to increase design and engineering skills in teenagers. High school boys could compete to win college scholarships, and possibly influence future vehicles.
The instructions for 1931’s contest were this: make a miniature Napoleonic horse-drawn coach. Earning first prize required focused determination.
For an entire year, Wickham devoted at least five hours a day to his contest submission. His winning version (for his home-state of Utah) is displayed at the Athens County Historical Society. It was the first time he combined intense engineering with his love of woodworking. Complete with ornate carvings, tiny door handles, a foot rug, petite upholstered seats, gilded cookie-sized wheels, a lift, and small windows that slide open and shut, the masterpiece is his favorite from his years of wood-crafting.
“It is what got me to Athens,” says Wickham.
Yet Wickham’s love for woodworking predated the miniature coach. “I was always making something out of wood,” he remembers. “I always had a knife.” He purchased pocketknives with money earned from making toy boats. Once, he spent two days retracing his steps to retrieve a knife lost through a hole in his pocket. He found it. “After that, I got a knife with a loop on the end and used a shoe string to tie it,” says Wickham.
It was worth the effort. The investment in his craft paid off for a lifetime of building upon related skills to enhance his career. As with any craft or skill, it is the paying job that keeps creativity flowing. For Wickham, that job would be teaching.
Wickham’s prize for his coach was a trip from Salt Lake City to General Motors in Detroit. Afterward, he took a detour to visit his aunt Ada O’Blenness (married to the brother of the famous hospital founder) in our sleepy little town of Athens, Ohio. After a few weeks, plans for heading back westward began to fade.
He spent a few weeks flipping hamburgers at a local joint called The Spot. His aunt then approached him about attending Ohio University. At the time, Wickham was unaware she had been one of the first female graduates.
Not convinced his study habits were the best, he hesitated before enrolling. “I have no idea what I did, but they must have needed students because they accepted me,” says Wickham. While working on his chemistry degree, an inquiry to the Bureau of Appointments (which was backhandedly called the “Bureau of Disappointments”) informed him the greatest call for jobs was for teachers of chemistry, physics and woodshop. “I started taking summer school,” says Wickham. “I graduated with a degree in chemistry, with minors in industrial arts and physics, and a teaching certificate.”
After graduation and his wedding, he began teaching physics, chemistry, general science and woodshop in the small town of Zanesfield, near Bellefountaine, Oh. “The most fun was teaching 7th and 8th grade general science,” says Wickham. “I would do an experiment and say, ‘Okay, what happened, you explain it. You saw something, you write it down.’ I wanted them to do their own workbooks. They learn better then.”
From there, he taught mechanical culling at a Bedford high school, then worked for Jack and Heinz Precision Industries, designing aircraft and increasing his mechanical skills.
As for any man during the time, the draft for World War II loomed. But the war ended, and he received another call instead. On the other line was his engineering graphics professor from Ohio University (who had given Wickham the only ‘A’ he ever gave out). Wickham remembers, “He said, ‘Bob, would you like to come back and teach engineering graphics?’” He accepted, and returned to Athens. He taught for 23 years at Ohio University, retiring in 1974.
Now, two months shy of his 96th birthday, Wickham doesn’t show his age as he maneuvers lithely down the stairs to his workshop. Wickwood, his business, is set up in his garage, where he repairs furniture, fixes clocks and hones his craft. His memory is sharp as a tack; he still drives with good peripheral vision.
Recently, he was commissioned to repair four antique chairs donated to the Konneker Alumni Center. He says, “I always enjoy repairing something handmade, because I’m carrying on what somebody else did years ago with their hands.” He also enjoys giving dead clocks new life. “I call it a Lazarus clock,” he laughs, referencing the biblical man that Jesus brought back to life. “There’s a lot of Lazarus clocks in Athens County.”
In his orderly shop, tools are separated into sections. A double row of hammers are neatly hung, arranged by age. His favorite tool is a bandsaw, but most often used is the powered handsaw. In a shop full of aged, well-cared-for tools, his handsaw is new. “I wore the other one out,” he says, chuckling.
Projects are ongoing, in different stages. While one is drying, he works on another. Once finished, he marks the piece with an ‘OK’ sticker.
Spanning the years, his works range from the walnut Seal of Ohio that hung in the old Baker Center on campus, decorative crown molding in the now-razed Natatorium across from Scott Quad, religious decorative wall hangings, podiums, and spool holders. In his spare time, he makes toys for kids, or other items as gifts. Smiling, he holds up a horse and rocks it, which emulates the sound of trotting perfectly.
Each home he has lived in was self-renovated and furnished throughout with pieces of his own creation. Tables, desks, and side-tables bear his characteristic patience through perfectly symmetrical and ornamental designs carved into the woodwork. One loveseat was inspired by Duncan Fife. “There was a similar design, but I didn’t like that too well. So I did my own design and drew the pictures. I even upholstered it and did all the spring-work.”

Three-quarters of a century have passed since his first arrival. Speaking fondly of his 54-year marriage to his wife who passed away fifteen years ago, he feels blessed to have met her here in Athens. “She was the first person I dated,” he says proudly. They had four children, and now 11 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren.
A 40-year membership to Central Avenue United Methodist Church is a steady stronghold in his life.
Every morning, he can be found breakfasting at Bob Evans, choosing from one of three of his favorite items on the menu. He likens his daily visit to “Cheers” - a place where everyone knows his name. The cooks give him high-fives. Then he heads back to his quiet workshop, finishing up the latest project, breaking for lunch of his favorite: steamer frozen vegetables.
“Athens is no longer a neighborhood, it is just a bunch of people living in houses,” he laments. He remembers a time when walking uptown on the weekend was a social event, and when neighbors invited each other over to share a watermelon. “In West Virginia there is a saying, ‘We’ve howdied, but we haven’t shook,’” says Wickham. “I don’t think people are friendly like they used to be. Athens is growing, but something happened to being friendly.”
Yet, he does not regret coming here. He misses the west, but feels that his roots are here, due to his ancestor’s arrival in 1806 to Bern Township, where Federal Creek empties into the Hocking River.
“I still love to watch cowboy movies. Looking at the scenery, I’ll say, ‘Hey, I’ve seen that big rock,’” Wickham says. “I’m a westerner at heart, but my heart is here. Home is where the heart is.”

Pawpaws for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Appalachian gold: Rediscovering riches of the ‘poor man’s banana’

Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Michael DiBari, Jr.)
September 11, 2008

A boy stands beneath the tropical-leaved tree, peering at the mottled-skinned fruit pods. Alien-like, they hang from multiple limbs, singularly or in clusters. With his stick, he takes a swipe at the nearest group — down they fall. Quickly realizing that his new shoes (with added traction and support) are perfect for the job of smashing, he stomps on the fruit with much gusto. Gargantuan seeds and golden pulp squelch onto the forest floor. Disgusted, he walks away. Flies soon swarm in to feast upon the meal that has been so graciously provided.

There is gold waiting to be mined from our backyards.

Modern eyes aren’t trained to detect it, yet no treasure map with an “X” marking the spot is needed. The gift of the pawpaw has always been right before us.

For longer than history notes, the pawpaw has steadily persevered as an under-story tree in Eastern North American woodlands, thriving and basking in the shade. Walk through any nearby woods and witness eye-level views of the pawpaw’s broad, tropical leaves. Spring’s warmth conjures up small maroon, triangular blooms predating bees’ evolution that receive pollination from carrion flies and beetles. By summer’s end, the fruit’s yellow-orange skin peels open to reveal amber, custard-like pulp with oversized brown seeds, perfect for spitting contests.

Yet, at best, the most attention we give the pawpaw is to avoid stepping in its fall fodder.

Southeast Ohio’s soil and climate are most excellent for the fruit tree that dominated native culture plantations and was voted landscape tree of the year in 2000 by Better Homes and Gardens. The pawpaw, subject of repeated legislative attempts to be named the official fruit of Ohio, is superior in nutritional benefits, is potentially one of the highest food sources for antioxidants, and could provide untapped economical boosts for a poverty-ridden region.

Should we not proudly boast of our very own rich natural resource? Most people have not heard of this eccentric fruit, and if they have, its mention either prompts a face of disgust, annoyance or confusion.

At what point was the pawpaw wiped clean from our fruit bowls and memories? Was it when the forests were ruined for want of houses? Was it greed for something more palatable?

“Our agriculture changed in the ’40s with lots of trucked-in foods from California,” says Chris Chmiel, co-owner of Integration Acres, a pawpaw orchard and goat farm, and president of the Ohio PawPaw Growers Association. He is working hard to expand the pawpaw’s status from just a forgotten component of old folk songs.

Compared to the popular marketing prowess of such exotic fruits as gem-like, succulent pomegranate or the energy-packed, Amazonian acai berry, the ugly pawpaw lacks luster. But for a nation emphasizing deliberate health-mindedness and local organic shopping, the slow takeoff of pawpaws doesn’t make sense.

“Pawpaws are rampantly growing but that doesn’t mean the fruit is widely available or preserved for later use,” says Chmiel.

Perhaps the confusion about the pawpaw is best stated in the song, “Bear Necessities” from the movie “The Jungle Book.”

Now when you pick a pawpaw
Or a prickly pear
And you prick a raw paw
Next time beware
Don’t pick the prickly pear by the paw
When you pick a pear
Try to use the claw
But you don’t need to use the claw
When you pick a pair of the big pawpaw
Have I given you a clue?
The bare necessities of life will come to you…

Local resident Annie Pepper owns an in-town property that held one of two of the largest pawpaw trees in the official National Register of Big Trees in Ohio. Practical yard care stands in the way of her appreciation, however. “The fruit bangs on our car tops, driveway and grass,” she says. “It is similar to a smashed banana.” Recently, they had to cut one tree down from the four-tree cluster due to rot. “The leaves are brutal on the gutters because they are so big. They are not fun to rake, either,” notes Pepper.

One could almost call the pawpaw persistent in its glories, if not just plain stubborn.

Research conducted at Kentucky State University yielded surprising results in pawpaw nutritional information: the amount of vitamins, nutrients and protein in one pawpaw outweighs that of many others. The pawpaw supplies more food energy and protein, provides all the essential amino acids, and contains more or equal amounts of vitamin C, phosphorous, magnesium, iron, zinc, copper, riboflavin and manganese than the apple, banana and orange.

Melanie Duffrin, assistant professor of nutrition and dietetics at East Carolina University and former Ohio University assistant professor of human and consumer sciences, took 15 pawpaw trees with her when she relocated. She has long been convinced of the fruit’s benefits, having conducted thorough research, namely on the pawpaw’s ability to be used as a fat substitute in many recipes for baked goods – excellent news for a diabetes-ridden region. Half of the trees she brought have survived, especially one on her own property.

Chmiel has planted pawpaw orchards on a continual basis for the last 10 years, and the initial trees are starting to bear fruit. He also gathers and purchases pawpaws from the woodlands of his neighboring farmers. His products have been shipped as far away as Japan and Italy, and have been used on movie sets, sold to zoos, and purchased by old-timers reliving memories of their favorite childhood snack.

Initial research findings conducted at Ohio University on antioxidant content in pawpaw seeds yielded promising results. Antioxidants protect cells from damage by unstable molecules. Dane Salabak, researcher and graduate student in food and nutrition at OU, tested the seed’s antioxidant properties while a colleague tested the pulp. “The compulsion for further study is that the results were promising,” he says. “We received good numbers in a lab.”

Harvesting and eating the pawpaw seems like a no-brainer, correct?

A few problems stand in the way, including taste preferences.

“I tried them but do not care for them,” says Pepper.

“The taste is not bad; it’s the texture that gets me,” says Salabak.

“I absolutely love the flavor,” says Chmiel.

“I prefer some varieties over others,” says Duffrin.

The there’s the short shelf life:

“The reason the pawpaw has never been commercialized is the rapid ripening process,” says Salabak. The ripe pawpaw lasts about three days once picked, and for about a week in the refrigerator.

“Short shelf life has hurt the pawpaws accessibility,” concedes Chmiel. His solution? “I make frozen and shelf-stable pawpaw products available for year-round consumption.”

Because of pulp availability, Duffrin’s fat-replacing baking experiments were successful. “We probably made a dozen different batches before we decided on something we thought would work,” she says. “Using pawpaw as a substitute for fat in (storebought) cake mixes is quick, easy, and adds a nice flavor to the cake mix. You can also mix the fruit into a white icing. There are many things you can make with pawpaw. A bourbon sauce my friend made with pawpaw that we put on bread pudding was awesome.”

With ever-increasing popularity, long-standing and new recipes are pushing their way as culinary creations in more kitchens across the country. The Ohio Pawpaw Growers Association now has a 200-recipe cookbook available.

This Saturday and Sunday marks the 10th annual Pawpaw Festival, organized by Chmiel at Lake Snowden Park several miles southwest of Athens on U.S. Rt. 50/Ohio Rt. 32. Events include a cook-off, an eating contest, beer garden, assorted vendors, kids activities, and a new component called the Ohio Country Fair, with exhibits and workshops on self-sustainable living. (For more information, visit http://www.ohiopawpawfest.com/). A full lineup of bands is on tap both days, including the ever-popular Royales on Saturday night.

Mostly, however, the wonders of the pawpaw will be the highlight. “Some people have had bad experiences eating pawpaws, but mostly due to lack of knowledge of pawpaw perfection — eating pawpaws too ripe or under ripe,” Chmiel says. “Powerful chemicals are in every cell of the pawpaw; in the under-ripe fruit they protect them from being eaten until their seed is ripe.”

Yet Chmiel is adamant about its wonders. “When I first tasted a fresh pawpaw picked up off the ground, I remember thinking about the viscosity and texture of the pawpaw reminding me of something sweet and sexy.”

THE FUTURE LOOKS PROMISING for the pawpaw.

Salabek says of his research, “There is until only recently one or two papers that have been published with work similar to ours and a couple of papers in submission for publication.”

Chmiel adds, “I’ve got lots of ideas which include getting more and more people out to the farm, a new farm store opening up this fall, and a place for gatherings and other eco/agricultural tourism opportunities.”

Duffrin states it plainly: “I would love to see the fruit have a longer shelf life so people could get it in stores. This would give the farmers more income potential. I would also like to see it become the state fruit of Ohio.”

“Ideally we will get published and find a market for PPSE/PPPE (pawpaw seed/pulp extract),” says Salabak. “Knowing the benefits of the pawpaw could cause increased popularity. Additionally, if these things were determined, it could be a benefit to Appalachia. It could bring a financial benefit to the region.”

Time (and taste) will tell.

Brent Hayes for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Athens glimpses of home: Developer says it’s all a question of opportunity

Jenaye Antonuccio
August 18, 2008

He says he’s just a hillbilly farm boy.

Brent Hayes, one of the best-known local developers, spent all his spare moments until high-school graduation on a circa 1877 family-owned dairy farm. He never gave a thought of doing anything else but helping his father.

Daily tasks hadn’t changed much in 100 years – cows needed to be fed and milked twice a day, 365 days a year, no matter what. Floods or drought damaged hard work.

Hayes claimed it never upset his father. “I learned so much from my dad — to look at problems as an opportunity, not a failure. You look at it, step back, and think about it a little bit.”

Hayes didn’t think anyone from his family would leave farming and break the cycle. But his father had a different idea.

“I was out raking hay,” remembers Hayes, “and he came in the fields and said, ‘Are you going to do this? What do you want to do? There’s not a lot of money in this farm. I think that you ought to look for something else.’”

Opportunity was before him. He believes his father’s offering of a choice brought him to where he is today. Said Hayes, “That was a great thing, that I could make my choices. I may have still been on the farm if he hadn’t come to me that day.”

Hayes said he began his career as a developer and businessman with a roustabout crew, a ditcher and a bulldozer.

The company’s roustabout crew paid $5 an hour plus overtime in the early ’80s. Working hard extra hours was second nature for Hayes, yet now he had incentive. With these earnings, he incrementally bought his step-grandfather’s trencher. Evenings and weekends, he dug ditches.

Hayes figured he could build a business by taking out a loan to purchase a bulldozer and a truck. Hayes recalled, “My father said, ‘You don’t even know how to run a bulldozer.’ I said, ‘I can learn.’” The elder Mr. Hayes volunteered to cosign a loan with his son.

“People would hire me, though I didn’t know what I was doing,” said Hayes. “I wasn’t very good but I worked hard, did the best I could, and tried to do better and extra things. I didn’t charge as much because I knew I wasn’t as good as some.”

He hired a small crew. Barely able to afford new tires, he found replacements in junk tire shops. Patched machinery was repaired with used parts. Looking back, he is amazed they got anything done.

Nonetheless, JB Hayes Excavating and Pipeline, Inc. was born. Soon to follow were such partnerships and companies as Southeastern Ohio Management Company, LLC, and East State Street Development Co. (ESSDC).

He attributes his success to having good people around him. “It was out of (having) good people. I still am blessed with that, just having good people around,” he said.

In addition, his parents instilled confidence. “My parents never held me back. It was never negative; it was always positive. They never said, ‘I told you so’ or ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’” He tries to model his actions after his 75-year-old father — firm but fair.

Today, Hayes (with partners) has most recently been known for ownership and renovation of the University Mall and refurbishing the former McBee building for its current tenant, Diagnostic Hybrids. He has also been publicly criticized for his decision to clear-cut a very visible hillside along Harmony Ridge, across from the East State Street shopping district. Most recently, in proposing to build an assisted-living facility on the outskirts of Athens, he criticized the Athens Planning Commission for being anti-development.

However, he claims that different opinions are good to hear, and he’s always willing to talk things through.

“I’ve got an opinion and I respect (others’) opinions,” he said. “We don’t always agree. There are different opinions of what is good and what is not good.”

He added, “People can depend on that I’m committed to Athens, this area, to do things that improve the quality of life for people that live here.”

Comparing Athens’ growth to that of larger cities, Hayes maintains that there hasn’t been much growth here at all since he was a kid. “I think the changes that I’ve seen in Athens have been positive,” said Hayes. “Does everybody think it’s smart? Well, everybody’s not going to think it’s smart.”

According to Hayes, opportunity looks different for different people. “As a farmer, you grow up and see some of those nice soybean, hayfields or cornfields (along highways) that now are houses — that’s kind of sad,” he saids. “But to that farmer that is barely getting by (who sold the land for residential development), he is getting more than he ever dreamed of. That may be smart to him.”

Hayes says he loves what he does. “I like work. I enjoy the people I work with,” he said. “I love to make deals, to see things come together. Problems come up and you come up with the answer. That’s an adrenaline rush.”

Though he never attended college, he claims that most learning comes from other people. “I learn something from everyone,” said Hayes. “I’m influenced every day by people just listening, talking, and asking questions. Every day, that’s my goal — to try and expand knowledge.”

The aforementioned assisted-living project refects his stated dream to treat the elderly citizens of Athens with deserved respect. He said he’s sad that many residents have been forced leave town when faced with the decision to move into assisted living.

“There have been so many people that have built and contributed a lot to this area,” he said. “I would like for whoever makes that choice to feel good about that choice.”

The 300-acre site, located on the west edge of Athens near where River Valley Community School was located, inspired in Hayes visions of playing fields and farming space to keep life front and center. “In my opinion, these kinds of places need youth and life. Let’s introduce life,” he said.

He said he hopes to provide contentment and peace. “I’m probably more passionate and excited about it than anything I’ve ever done,” he declared.

About Athens, Hayes said, “There’s a lot of life here, a lot of great opportunity, and a lot of great people.”

He hopes misconceptions about his goals and character will dissipate. “People think I’m a big business person, or they think I’m here to cut down trees,” said Hayes. “I’m a local guy that grew up on a farm, and my roots are still here. I am here to do what’s right for the community.”

Lori Gromen for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Changing the earth one step at a time

Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)
August 4, 2008

You will hardly ever find Lori Gromen in a car or lingering in the produce section. Seldom sitting still, she bikes, walks, runs, or races with teammates flipping discs in a game of “ultimate.” She has officiated weddings, helped people to see, and transformed yard to garden featuring such delicacies as gooseberries, currants and asparagus.

But this is her point of pride: she treads the earth lightly and lives simply.

“I feel I have made a difference (with) the way I live,” says Gromen. “I have a passion for the environment — that’s why I ride my bike, why I grow my own food. There is no reason NOT to.”

For the past six years, Gromen has biked or walked to work, spending half of her days inside the large brick building of Hillel House at 21 Mill St. Past the stained-glass window where sunlight paints colors on the floor, she manages the small office, keeps the budget, and works closely with the Rabbi Danielle LeShaw overseeing interns. Though Hillel centers provide for Jewish students’ needs on campuses nationally, Athens’ sole synagogue is unique in that it dually serves both community and students.

Gromen is not Jewish, but her natural friendliness spurs compatible relationships with the students and families. “I really enjoy our community functions,” Gromen says. “Everyone here is so nice and sincere.”

She recently attended a bar mitzvah for a boy who participated in a class along with four others. “They work so hard; they come every Tuesday,” she says. “This boy was the first one of the four (to graduate). I was proud of him.”

Interaction with a wide range of people and ages, including four years as an optician at Athens Pro Care Vision, coincides with Gromen’s affability. But a 14-year focus on ultimate (formerly known as “ultimate Frisbee”) has kept her anchored among one age group: college students. She has coached them, mentored them, and played with them competitively.

“I enjoy being around college students,” she says. “It keeps me young.”

Her age is never a question in the eyes of the students. Their respect grows for her, however, when they learn that she’s 15 years older than they are, an Athens resident, and married to former men’s ultimate coach and First Ward City Council representative Kent Butler. “Besides their parents, we might be the only adults they interact with,” she said, referring to OU students. “They are constantly surrounded by their peers.

“Ultimate,” Gromen says, “is a sport (most haven’t grown) up playing. It helps to have someone who has been playing to guide and answer questions.” Though she and Butler have thrived in their addiction to ultimate, they have begun retiring from the sport. Says Gromen, “We have weaned ourselves off — our bodies can’t take it anymore.”

She also has run marathons and continues to bike. She claims that marathon running, similar to cycling, allows the mind to fall into a meditative state and observe passing scenery while the body is still challenged. Ultimate is about focus. “You need to be mentally clear,” she says. “If you get tired, then you become unfocused, and that is where mistakes are made. My body after an ultimate tournament is torn up a lot more than after a marathon.”

With less time spent on intense physical pursuits, more care has been put into her garden. Rising costs of food is an obvious motivation, but she also cites the simple inspiration of joy. “I’ve always loved gardening,” Gromen says. “I get out there and get our place looking decent.”

Four raised beds and various trees and bushes create a balanced selection of vegetables and fruits that cut half the cost of produce purchases. Onions, garlic and potatoes are abundant, along with blueberries, strawberries and peaches. The rest of the essentials are purchased from Kroger and the Farmer’s Market, all on bike. “As long as I can put it all in my panniers and backpack, I’ll take the bike,” says Gromen.

She loves the accessibility of the bike path and the newly created bike lanes. “I feel comfortable riding with cars,” she says. No matter what the weather, she persists in her conviction that biking is better. “It gets really icy around here, and I honestly have felt more comfortable on my bike than I would driving a car.”

Her mother, she says, has been her biggest influence and inspiration. Growing up as the third child, she was able to observe her mother’s transformation from primary caregiver to career woman. After years of working at the local preschool, her mother began earning her master’s in library science, and remained a librarian up until a few years ago.

This fall, Gromen says she will follow in her mother’s footsteps. Passion for the environment was the impetus to enroll in the master’s program in environmental studies. “I want to work outside in the field sampling water or air quality, or counting deer. Something that makes a difference in some way,” she says.

Southeast Ohio’s geography is similar to her Cincinnati homeland, and has made her feel settled here for 16 years. She says she hopes to help this area and repair watersheds.

Having traveled many places, she considered few others in which to reside. One place in particular appealed to her for its simplicity. A park system in Canada near the St. Lawrence River connected a series of lakes with hand-cranked locks. Says Gromen, “The people were so informative. They weren’t there for a summer job; they were adults still doing their hand-cranked locks. They would take the time out to talk to you and they kept everything clean.”

Her easy-going nature helps when she officiates weddings. ”I love being part of a couple’s special day,” says Gromen. “It’s fun being on that end of the ceremony.” Since receiving her license to marry people through the Spiritual Humanism Web site, she has officiated weddings for three different couples in Athens, the Outer Banks and Idaho.

A recent visit to her brother in Italy gave her a bug to own a bed and breakfast serving homemade mozzarella topped with olive oil, and give bike tours to her guests. Ultimately, though, the future in Athens looks good. “I want to stick around here,” she says.

Scott Kreps for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Man hopes to help destroy stigmas of mental illness

Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)
July 21, 2008

Two women converse on the wide front porch. Piano music wafts out from the open front door — a welcome change from the busy street below. Inside, someone sitting at the computer turns and smiles; two play a game on a couch in another room. The kitchen counter is brimming with supplies for a fresh meal. The back door opens to picnic table full of lively conversation. Flowers flourish, splashing color on a backyard cove created by hemlock, ivy and latticework.

One woman rises from her chair.“Well, I’m going home,” she announces. “Home?” someone asks. She says her goodbyes; the conversation picks back up. Yet the question hovers in the air. This is home for many, even if some have another place to return to at night.

“Here,” says Scott Kreps, handing over a jar of homemade marinara sauce. As executive director of Athens Mental Health Inc., he oversees The Gathering Place in Athens, Home Away From Home in Logan, and The Friendship House in McArthur. The sauce, visibly full of tantalizing local ingredients, is labeled “GP Gold - Marinara for the Masses” with a rendering of the Gathering Place. A grant from the Presbyterian Hunger Project enabled its mass-production, and the sauce is sold at the Village Bakery’s Village Market. It is one small aspect of many positives Athens Mental Health Inc. offers as an alternative to strict hospitalization for those coping with mental illness.

Kreps moves about the house, greeting each person by name, inquiring of personal details. Everyone responds; everyone knows who he is. The 7 N. Congress St. house is an older Athens classic, complete with servant and main staircases, warm woodwork and diamond-pattern leaded windows. For 30-plus years, The Gathering Place has striven to provide a safe haven for whole-person recovery. Kreps has served as director for the last three and a half years. It is clear he is home as well. “I believe in this work. I believe in the people I work with,” he says.

Kreps is devoted to a few core issues: restoring capability and capacity to groups of oppressed individuals, providing access to healthy foods in a Type 2 diabetes-plagued region, and fostering sustainable longevity of local farms. These issues prompted him to tailor his master’s thesis specifically for The Gathering Place.

Titled “Healthful Hunger Reduction: A Community Development Project,” the Presbyterian Hunger Project grant provided employment for him, and new initiative funding for The Gathering Place, including the making of the aforementioned sauce. Programs such as connecting people to secure housing, cultivating health and wellness by providing healthy take-home meals on Fridays, connecting with Green Edge Gardens through Community Supported Agriculture to augment their meals and pantry, and maintaining a community garden spot are also highlights.

As with many who call Athens home, Kreps’ road to Athens has been wide-ranging. Armed with three seemingly contradictory degrees from Ohio University, he sees all varieties of study and experience tied together. “I’ve always been a person wanting ongoing diversification of my experiences,” says Kreps. “Combining my skill-sets in a place that has been a strong force for those that experience oppression, I am extremely proud to be part of such an amazing legacy.”

In a room full of local information and resource pamphlets, with constant interruptions from pressing phone calls and queries, he recounts his personal expeditions as an observer, entertainer, caregiver, overseer, father, citizen and friend.

“I’ve always rooted for the underdog, and I’ve always seen this as key,” says Kreps.

In his early youth, he remembers, his family often visited a local organization that housed a mixed population of people with mental and developmental disabilities. His family often went to socialize, entertain with clowning performances, and simply be present among the residents. “That was a gift — being so close in proximity, developing relationships and friendships with folks that had different issues than I had,” he says. “At that young an age, it was really important for my growth and development.”

Earning his first degree in outdoor recreation was a physical test: he pushed through to early graduation before starting a rigorous internship the next spring.

Two quarters were spent heartily living Athens life as a non-student. As a bounty hunter of sorts with an alias, he collected unpaid checks for a local landlord. He then purchased a one-way ticket to England to complete his degree at an outdoor recreation facility. He became skilled at instructing wind-surfing, rock-climbing, and sea-kayaking to youths at risk. Community programming and gardening became part of his repertoire.

Upon returning to U.S. soil, he caught and identified mosquito larvae, earned a master’s degree in higher education with a focus in college personnel, was a house parent for abused and neglected children, then an assistant resident director in the dorms. He became a father. A two-year stint at Marietta College in ’00–’02 as area coordinator for first-year student programs spurred a desire to return to Athens, where he found employment at Tri-County Mental Health and Respite. A second master’s degree in international affairs with focus on community development and food politics gave him the final push to his current position.

Constant activity and variation have seasoned Kreps’ life. So why settle at Athens Mental Health, Inc.? What rules of the game made this network-of-care the goal?

He says he was never in it for the money. “I get such joy because most of the people that come through here are the most genuine people you will ever meet,” says Kreps. “They don’t have time or energy to mess around with NOT being themselves. To me it is inspirational. When I can see someone’s quality of life, their ability to enjoy life and be able to hold down a job, be able to gain some perspective and intuition and trust their own self, that gives me energy.”

In the midst of the bustle, his efforts are not without effect. Kreps admits to exhaustion in managing the intricacies of non-profit work and political processes. But it’s all worth it.

“I used to say this was people’s second home,” says Kreps. “Now I know that this is their first family; it is their first home.” He stresses that humans need other humans for better mental health, not isolation. “Social connections and having an outlet in a place that’s safe, a place that is de-stigmatized — it is so vital.”

It is no easy task to provide space for the uninsured who cannot afford a $495/day hospital bed while experiencing mental-health symptoms. Athens Mental Health Inc. operates on a $150,000-per-year budget that pays for seven staff (two others are compensated through a grant and work/living-space trade), three facilities and utilities, parking spaces, programming, non-donated food, and special trips. The Gathering Place serves an average of around 110 people a week; The Friendship House (McArthur) and Home Away From Home (Logan) see an additional 30.

“Over the last 10 years, people think that individuals with mental illness are more dangerous,” says Kreps. He seeks to destroy the stigma, and utilize the potential for community and economic development. “I‘m an educator at heart,” Kreps says. “I’m not a wait-till-the-house-burns-down type of person. I want to be at the front end, helping move things forward.” His visions are clear. “People won’t just say, ‘I’ve heard of the Gathering Place,’” he says. “They’ll say, ‘I know they do great stuff.’”

Kreps loves Athens and believes in its rural sustainability, small-business models and potential for agro-tourism. “Athens has such a rich history,” says Kreps. “Every single issue that I can think about and prioritize in my mind – it’s all about potential.”

In the future, he says he’d like to start an Athens parkour group (which focuses on an international sport that’s growing in popularity, involving a person on foot getting from point A to point B in an urban landscape as quickly as possible). He and his son have already tested their skills and maneuvers on the OU campus. He also has aspirations to write a retrospective book about Court Street businesses. But for now, he is enjoying living on Athens’ west side with his three cats, son and partner.

Joanne Prisley for Athens: Glimpses of Home

One woman’s journey through pages of Athens history

Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)
June 30, 2008

“The secret of a good life is to have the right loyalties and hold them in the right scale of values.” – Norman Thomas, six-time presidential candidate for the Socialist Party of America

We are all contributors to history. But few create a legacy while preserving others’ history.

Joanne Prisley, 76, has spent 28 years with the Athens County Historical Society and Museum working part-time, both formerly as the director and currently as curator. With her resourceful mind and focused determination for community issues, she has given knowledge and spirit to our town by transcending the conventions of her time.

Chapter One: The early years

“My dad was very radical; he was just wild,” says Prisley. “He always had an opinion.” His opinions supporting communism cost him his job. “He was blacklisted and he didn’t work for years.” Her mother was born to Irish immigrants. “My mother was the one in our neighborhood that if there was something they didn’t like, they would say, ‘Mrs. Dove, you’re going to have to do something about this,’” Prisley says. “She was always out there rabble-rousing and making sure people were treated right.” Both her parents were schooled only through the eighth grade.

Her brother, 11 years older, would become a football star for Notre Dame and the National Football League, and then coach for 37 years. He brought home his college books, which Prisley’s father voraciously read. Her brother’s fame sparked their home-town’s interest, which she and her father opposed. “He became well-known; then they wanted him to come and work in the mill to stay in shape so they could show pictures,” she says.

Her family was naturally inclined toward social values and seeing all sides an issue. “Nobody sat down at home and said, ‘Look, we are going to go out there and support people,’” says Prisley. “It was just what you did.”

Chapter 2: The college years

Prisley traveled southwest from Youngstown to begin her college education in Athens in 1949. Majoring in government (now called political science), she enjoyed the small department where everyone seemed to know each other.

Athens in 1949 to 1953 was mainly Republican. “Everybody thinks of this as this big Democratic stronghold,” says Prisley, “but it was very conservative.”

Athens is where she met her husband, the late Alexander Prisley. He would eventually serve as associate professor emeritus of political science at Ohio University for 37 years. “I met him in Ray Gustafson’s American Political Parties class,” recalls Prisley. “He wanted to take an Alpha Gam to the dance so he could double date with his roommate. I was the only one he knew, so that’s how we got started.” Political involvement strengthened their bond.

She earned her master’s degree in government the following year while working as a graduate assistant in the dorm and her own department. After their marriage, the couple would return to Athens in 1957 while her husband earned his master’s. She was a high-demand residence counselor in three successive dorms, and her husband was one of the first males to live in each.

Chapter 3: The working years

In a time when the majority of women were not working, Prisley was a trailblazer.

Straight out of college she worked for Proctor and Gamble in an innovative market and consumer researcher program. She traveled to conduct door-to-door casual interviews and later recorded extracted data.

She then taught fifth grade in Youngstown, which she despised. “I was raised in a family where if you take on a job, you do it if it kills you,” Prisley says. “I didn’t go and cry and say, ‘I have to leave.’” Despite her feelings, she cared enough to convince school nurses of one boy’s dyslexia and another’s epilepsy, both uncommon diagnoses.

She married, moved to Cleveland, and began employment with BF Goodrich in industrial research and market analysis. No other women worked in that capacity, save one, who was the department head. Though married, she was prohibited from traveling with the men. “They wouldn’t let me travel on the same plane. I had to stay at a different hotel,” she says. “I used to type my own report, but I was typing the fellas’ report, too. I’m sure I wasn’t making as much money. I know I was smarter.”

During this time, the CIA was investigating her husband’s Russian heritage, making his own employment difficult since the available work did not match his capabilities. Prisley was the primary breadwinner.

From 1958-63, while her husband was earning his doctorate at Brown in Rhode Island, she worked in a rare book library with printed material dated before 1800. “That’s where I learned about collecting: how you restore things, how you preserve them, how you do exhibits,” says Prisley. “They gave me good training there.”

They returned to Athens in 1963 on her husband’s agreement to temporarily replace a colleague, teaching American government. She worked as one of two assistant deans of women. He had not yet completed his dissertation, and would not for three more years. With a bachelor’s in history, he struggled to teach the material. Says Prisley, “Luckily, I had saved all my notes. He used that as a basis for his lectures.”

Chapter 4: The child-raising years

Ten years into the marriage, the decision was made to have children. In 1965, at the age of 33, Joanne’s son was born at the old Sheltering Arms Hospital on Athens’ west side. She had chosen not to work. But it didn’t stop her from joining clubs and organizations. She was a member of the Democratic Women’s Club; an adviser to her former sorority, Alpha Gamma; an adult dame for her husband’s fraternity; and co-chair for the Cancer Crusade. Lacking cooking skills, she joined a luncheon group from the time her son was 7 weeks old, called the Ladies Outdoor Gardening and Karate Club. They still meet to this day. She notes, “We have wills, money left for when we die to have a party and a big dinner.”

After her son began grade school, Joanne joined the PTA and was homeroom mother. She also worked part time. “Bill Lavelle was the chairman of the Ohio Democratic Party, and worked out of his office here,” she says. “I was the administrative assistant in Athens.”

Chapter 5: The historical society years

The building where Prisley has spent the last 28 years, her longest stint of employment, once housed the Athens Public Library. In 1980, the Athens County Historical Society & Museum found its first home, occupying the upstairs. Though the organization itself had started slowly in 1960, it was too late, in Prisley’s opinion. “As a community, we should have had a historical society back in the 1800s,” she says.

When the library moved to its new facility on Home Street in 1993, the Historical Society & Museum spread itself into both floors. The current displays, library, files, researching area and bookshop began to expand into the respected organization that it is today.

“We did the same thing the Smithsonian did, but without staff, equipment or money,” says Prisley. The Historical Society & Museum relies upon membership fees and book sales to keep the bills paid. Their stunning collections and exhibits are from county residents’ donations. With little, the organization has gained much respect, both historically and professionally. Says Prisley, “We’ve had people come here from across the country to research. They say this is one of the most outstanding small historical societies they have ever been in.”

The society also offers genealogical researching tools, tours and classes. Their publications program has more than 100 titles on its list.

But spend any amount of time with Joanne Prisley, and you will become keenly aware of her sharp propensity for accuracy. She remembers in fine detail her husband’s teaching schedule from 45 years ago. “I remember weird things,” admits Prisley. “My husband always said, ‘How do you know how to find things?’” This ability, which she denies is a talent, has served in countless research projects, in which she has been reliable in finding the proper source. Her most productive thinking time: when she is cleaning. Then she can remember specific pages and books.

Her only regret for the Historical Society & Museum is the lack of storage space, and the proper funding for humidity and temperature control to ensure perfect preservation procedures. She says she will miss interacting with people.

Chapter 6: The current years

Keep your eyes open for a woman walking around town, armed with a clipboard. She will be taking meticulous notes on code-enforcement violations to help the city keep standards alive and avoid more deterioration. Having served with the Metropolitan Housing Authority since 1977, chaired the Athens Planning Commission for a 16-year term that expired in January, and involved with the neighborhood association, Prisley is keenly aware of local issues.

“My father always said, ‘Keep your mouth shut for the first six months, and you may speak the next six months. But wait a whole year before you try to do anything.’” Her family training has never wavered, but only burned brighter in her later years. “My husband said I was more radical than (my father) was,” she says.

Having watched the university change and grow, and impact growth in the city of Athens, Prisley feels the most disheartening about some people’s self-centeredness. “Some don’t know how to get along with other people in town,” she says. “People are just not considerate. They forget that they live in the midst of lots of people. Everybody has certain rights.” Of particular concern are trash and noise pollution, and lack of respect for pedestrians.

Prisley is also frustrated by the assumption that this is poor, isolated Appalachia. “This is not the back of beyond. It was on the main road, and the east and west, north and south railways ran through,” she says. “People who (originally) came here were well-educated people. They were hard workers and office holders. They gave up everything because they wanted to make money, come out West, and do better.”

Her husband supported her and her views. “He’d believe strongly in things but I was always dashing off to the City Council, going to the Board of Zoning Appeals, and calling up the police.”

Her husband died after battling an illness in 2005. “I always think funerals are a time to celebrate,” Prisley says. “I don’t sit around and cry about things. We used to have a good time going to cemeteries, putting flowers on, going out to eat afterwards or having a big picnic. It was an occasion. I just hope that I pop off when I’m out running around. I’d rather pop off in the middle of some cleaning fit.”

She claims she is not an artistic person, and completes exhibits in order to convey information. “My biggest talent is on the clean-up committee,” she says. “I’m very good at putting things in order.” She’s fascinated by watching people. “I love watching how they react to things,” she says. “Sometimes I do them over in my head. If I could say, ‘Now if you just let me cut your hair or change your hairdo…’ It’s constantly wanting to organize things.”

Prisley confesses she will not be bored after her retirement. She has plenty to do. Still involved with her sorority, Alpha Gamma Delta, she is undergraduate adviser, treasurer of the house company, and president of the alumni group. She recently helped plan their 100th anniversary on this campus, and also handles and organizes their historic memorabilia. She is active in her church, St. Paul’s, keeping their photographs and historic items in order, and organizing exhibits. She remains on the statewide board of the Ohio Association of Historical Societies and Museums.

There is no doubt she will continue to make history.

Troy Gregorino for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Musician, activist finds Athens a life-giving locale

Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)
June 12, 2008

Imagine you are a buccaneer, a vagabond, or an explorer. You look at maps and choose destinations for the sounds of their names, their position in the state, or what you have heard about them from others.

Pretend you are driving through surprisingly beautiful hills, outcroppings of rock, and endless green trees. The scent in the air is heavy with honeysuckle and rich greenery. Through your open window, you see a sign that says, “Athens, 10 miles.” You stop for directions, and you are told: “Just keep driving that way, and you’ll see it.”

This is similar to what befell Troy Gregorino one summer’s day in 2002. He had developed the keen habit of hopping from one place to another. But then something drew him here and coaxed him to stay.

“I drove in and it felt right,” says Gregorino. “I’d been to Montana, California, Mississippi, New York, all over the place. Me, my little car with eight billion miles on it, whatever number of dollars I managed to scrape together, a guitar, and a suitcase, and I found this place. And I just loved it.” He stepped out of his car, onto the unfamiliar brick streets, and experienced a never-before-felt warmth and welcome.

“Left to fight or flight, everybody’s looking for a new direction….” “Pascagoula,” from the album “Circadian Clocks” by the Jarts

But his path has not been easy. Since he stepped out of his car that long-ago day, he has been arrested, diagnosed, detoured, recorded, unemployed, and cured. His gratitude towards this place comes directly from his brush with having all things taken away. Only two years into his relationship with this town, he was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2004. Two more years stood between the process of healing and his call back to the place he had come to love. His love for the town has not changed, but has enhanced and filled his story of healing. “It’s not in my frame of mind right now to leave Athens,” says Gregorino. “I want to see some things through and continue to be a part of all that called me back.”

“Ohio means beautiful…back to Appalachian hills from which you came, everybody’s leaving just to make it big, rock stars, silver screeners back from the dead…I am your native son…” “Native Son,” by the Jarts

What calls him back in a current practical sense is hosting Open Stage for Donkey Coffee and Espresso, singing and playing guitar in the band the Jarts, tutoring for Kids on Campus, and working for the Ohio Healthy Families Act campaign. But it is the deeper things that strengthen the call. “I tend to find myself drawn to places where political and artistic vibrancy co-exist,” he explains.

It is his relationship with words and music that make up a large portion of Gregorino’s character.

“Writers and artists work so desperately to invent and reinvent new perspectives on the ordinary,” he says. He claims that writing and playing music are separate functions for him, but that he needs both and cannot survive without one or the other.

“Words, at their best, are just approximations of real experience,” says Gregorino. “Ideally they convey something that strikes you beyond a page or beyond a song, but it’s the limitations of them that are engaging enough to bother.”

A degree in journalism from Kent State University landed him many gigs, but around here, the most notable has been his past reporting on the local coffee-house music scene for the Athens Insider. “I think (the Athens music scene) rivals or exceeds any that come to mind across the country that I’ve gotten to see,” he declares. “I would put it up against the best of any city.”

Hosting an open stage allows him to see a broad spectrum of musicians in the Athens music scene, from beginners to those more seasoned.

“There seems to be more inclination among listeners to be there for the music itself,” Gregorino says. “(At Donkey) the sound system is good. I think it’s a great first stage for a lot of people, but it also serves as an ideal stage for people who have already had time to fine-tune their work. It’s a lot of fun to watch their progress happen from week to week.”

He also likes Donkey’s intimacy. “You are not competing with clashing glasses and the sounds that accompany the bar atmosphere,” he observes. “I think it lends itself to a different kind of sensitivity toward the craft.”

He would know. Melding writing and music, Gregorino performs his own songs in the band, The Jarts. Its music is directly linked to his personal recovery.

“I think it was at the core of my motivation for wellness again,” says Gregorino. “For that matter, it was the motivation for the formation of this band.”

The band’s lineup: Gregorino (guitar, vocals), Ashley Ford (cello), Michael Rinaldi-Eichenberg (keyboards), Chris Pyle (bass), and Sam Oches (drums).

“Nobody wants to hear a guy gush about his band too much,” Gregorino admits. “But the formation of The Jarts and what they have offered of themselves personally and musically have just been tremendous for me. This whole experience has been life-affirming.”

The band’s first CD was proudly released at an April 26th Donkey show. “The album reads as a kind of journal or documentary, even if it is rather surreal in parts,” says Gregorino. “We’ve been working on these songs for many months together as a band and playing them over and over again. And I feel like I’m coming up with new realizations about my own words in the song.”

“This year begins and ends in the same old way…Did you think you’d live to see 2042?… In spite of the lines you’re reading across my hands, sun upon your skin is all you understand…” “2042,”by the Jarts

“A lot of things I do on a whim,” Gregorino says. “Politics isn’t one of them.”

Political activism has peppered his life. At Kent, he was arrested at a 2003 annual Commemoration of the 1970 Kent State massacre. The peaceful protest was about the Iraq War, but local authorities pigeon-holed him as the leader of a crowd that was led into a street, he claims.

“My initial ‘guilty’ verdict was overturned by an appellate court,” Gregorino says. “During the trial, officers conceded that I was arrested because I was ‘perceived as a leader’. According to the first amendment, that’s not a crime. Later I was part of a successful federal suit arrest against the city of Kent for wrongful arrest.” All must have been forgiven. He was asked to play Pete Seeger’s “Where Have All The Flowers Gone” at the 2006 Commemoration.

His love for the forests, hills and river feeds his desire for defending and protecting this small town. He ran for City Council at large in last November’s election. Though he was not elected, he came away inspired.

“I was a first-time candidate with no major-party affiliation and next to no budget,” he says. “And I got over 600 votes when the final count was in.”

He says he believes in Athens’ potential and its forward-thinking people.

“I believe we have arrived at a point where we’ve got crucial decisions to make in terms of what kind of legacy we want to hand down to future generations,” he says. “I’m firmly convinced that a proactive push from below can prevent the effects of overdevelopment and economic short-sidedness from sucking the life out of a city. Complacency is our greatest enemy.”

“You’ve stopped conceding and waiting for your miracle, your heart is still beating in plasticine material, radiating through placating you congenially… Despise me, disguise me, these cells keep dividing, the light through the white blinds is so very blinding, I shield my eyes to shield you from me, say to me let’s go where we’re supposed to be…” “Tunnel Vision” by the Jarts

“These are all the upsides of being told that you have to undergo certain treatments or die,” Gregorino says. “This heavily introspective awareness and appreciation all over again. It just feels like gratitude. I’ve gotten a new perspective on my relationship with the world that I wouldn’t have otherwise.”

Athens is now a place now that holds more meaning for him than any other. It permeates his life, influences his healing, and filters into his art.

“I feel fortunate for every day I get to be a part of things where there’s such vitality,” says Gregorino. “I love the pulse and the beat of this place, and all of its liveliness. But I love this place for its paradoxes and contradictions, too. I’ve got to have both and Athens gives you both those things, liveliness and serene quiet all within a very short walk.”

“Other cancer patients and survivors, so many of them seem to have specific memories and recollections of what happened,” says Gregorino. “I’ve got this grey blankness when it comes to pinpointing things.”

He does remember the ceiling, and lacking strength. “I was memorizing every line in the ceiling above me. I was out and out and there were many months where I lacked the strength to even pick up the neck of the guitar and strum it if I wanted to.” His treatments have lessened to only a few times a year, with no recurrences, which he considers to be the best news. For now, he is settled. “There’s always a place to be welcomed in Athens. It does a lot of good things for me and I want to do good things in return.”

“I’m not afraid, I am alive, I’m the shooting star in the red moon sky across the plane…I am alive, I’m breaking through to the other side…” “Red Lament” by the Jarts