Eric Gunn for Athens: Glimpses of Home

Music store owner keeps the beat to an indie tune
By Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)

Creating music may be timeless, but selling it in today’s market is harder than ever.

Retail businesses across the board have been experiencing the effects of the economy’s downturn through business closings and employment cuts.

The music industry, already ailing from availability of downloads and file-sharing, has taken a steady hit. “That decline has taken a heavy toll on our industry as a whole -- from songwriters losing their jobs to record stores, especially those around college campuses, closing their doors,” said Jenni R. Engebretsen, former Director of Communications for the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), a Washington, DC-based trade group that represents the U.S. recording industry.

But here in Athens, Haffa’s Records at 15 W Union St. has had a different experience.

Eric Gunn, owner of the independent small business, explains, “We are unique in that we are the only record store within 50 miles.” Because of this, he says he’s sure the business will weather whatever crisis is ahead. “The music industry is changing, CD sales are slowing, but dying industries take a long time before they finally keel over,” he says. “More people will come to us because we are a small niche store.”

Gunn also insists that people’s need for music will never die, no matter the economic climate. “Music is one of those luxuries that even in tight times, people can afford,” he says. “Even poor people still bought their Jimmie Rodgers 78’s in the middle of the Depression.” He adds, “You might not be able to go out and blow 80 bucks on dinner, but you can pick up a six pack and a used CD and you are under 15.”
Keeping the value of the entertainment dollar in mind, customers can find most of Haffa’s items priced under $20, and most used items less than $10.

Since opening in the 70s, the goal of Haffa’s has been the same: good merchandise at low prices. Used books and LP’s made up the majority of initial sales. The name plays off of “half-price” and a reference to an old blues song, with the lyrics “kind of have to have something…”. What is the correct pronunciation of the store – short or long “a”? “Tomato, tomah-to,” says Gunn. “We answer to everything.”

As the fourth owner of the store, Gunn’s fourteen-year Haffa’s tenure (pre-ownership employment and ownership) has seen much change. Aside from moving upstairs from the basement location to the former Duplication Station storefront, people’s musical tastes and listening repertoire have broadened due to the World Wide Web. “Now a much broader palate of music with file sharing and being able to listen to music online, people have a broader array of genres that they listen to, or styles of music from all different eras,” says Gunn.

Since his early youthful days of employment, there’s always been a record store in his work-life. Though it is not always easy, he confirms there is no better job. “It’s a cool job - hang out and listen to music all day and get to talk to people about music.”

He agrees that brick-and-mortar music stores may not always be around, but the value of an independent store will not cease. “There is still value to be gotten at your independent record store - things that aren’t mainstream, and discovering new music,” he says.

Athens has supported only one record store for the past four years. Schoolkids Records stopped selling music in its Court Street location in 2004, deciding to focus on a different area of the business, and the two or three short-lived corporate record stores in the University Mall are long gone.

Gunn notes that business in Athens requires planning. “You have four months of the year when the town is half the size it is at other times,” says Gunn, “you have to make sure at the end of spring you have enough money in the bank to get through summer.”

He says he looks forward to the switch to semesters, and likens the adjustment to the expansion of State Street. “Three years after, no one will remember that it was any other way,” says Gunn. “Like when State Street went from two lanes to four, now you can’t imagine it going back. You think, ‘Why was it not that way the whole time?’”

Simple business plans are what he thinks will help to navigate through the shaky economy.

“Business owners need to be realistic with where things really are: track what you are selling, pay attention to trends in your business, don’t assume that things are going to change for the positive. If it is not viable anymore, you are better off to cut the losses.”

He likes being where he is, and often has customers visit from out of town. People had to search for the store when it was in the basement. “Now people will walk by, walk in and check it out,” he says.

The arrival of large chain businesses in Athens, such as Walmart, hasn’t hurt, Gunn says, but instead opens opportunity. It prevents other large chain stores from locating here. And when the customer can’t find what they want at the larger stores, they are sent to Haffa’s. “You can find that space to exist in their shadow, or thrive in it: what aren’t they selling, what aren’t they doing that people in the community want.”

He thinks the alternative record store will always be worth the visit. “A dark scary record store, those were the stores you found stuff, where the best stuff was to be found,” says Gunn. “People (own) it because that is what they love to do, not because they are trying to buy a second home.”

“Americans have lived on cheap credit and we all had fun at the party,” he continues. “It’s going to take a while for that to unwind. Banks have to loan within their means, people have to live within their means.”

He likens America to a massive aircraft carrier. “It doesn’t matter who is at the helm,” he says. “They can steer it a little to the left, a little to the right, but it’s really hard to turn the thing around.” Still, he has hope for America’s re-start. “We have to think about what we can do to get the heart beating again and try to clean up the mess.”

As a community member, he tries to be realistic about his standing. “We’ve got lots of loyal customers,” Gunn says. “There are a lot of people I know that if we ever did shut down they would be really bummed. I think we’ll be here for a while, I’m pretty confident of that.”

What does he see a decade from now?

“In ten years,” he says, “I hope people still care about music and still want to buy some. I hope we can change enough to still be a successful business without losing the feel I’ve always liked about the place - supporting independent music, not mainstream.”

Ivy Crockron for Athens: Glimpses of Home

A clear voice in tough times
Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)
October 13, 2008

Ivy Crockron has a recognizable voice.

As the star of a performance, she has a voice that tells stories in operatic song.

As a voice teacher, she instructs others to find their own.

As a mother and wife, she speaks with discipline, grace and jokes.

Finally, she is an African-American Christian woman whose voice is clear in this election year.

“I must research the candidates and pick the person who has the vision and the ability to do the job,” says Crockron. “Women and African Americans have not always had the right to vote. How dare I waste my opportunity, my privilege to vote.”

She has reason to be concerned. Motherhood comes with necessary attentiveness to today’s economy and issues.

After trying for 10 years to have their own children, Crockron and her husband attended Athens County Children Services’ foster care/adoption classes facilitated by Carol Cockrill. “Adoption is the most meaningful way for Christians to care for orphans,” she says.

According to Adoption and Foster Care Analysis and Reporting (AFCARS), nearly 800,000 children entered the foster-care system last year. This statistic, plus information and aid from Cockrill and Lynn Sowards with Franklin County Children Services, led to Crockron’s adopting first one, then an additional child.

“It went really fast for us,” Crockron recalls, remembering back to four and a half years ago. “Within two months we had a call.”

Ready to take out a small loan to purchase a car seat and supplies, Crockron was cautioned by her mother to wait. Their church, Grace Christian Center on Johnson Road in The Plains, at which her husband is associate pastor, threw them a surprise shower. “They got us everything!” says Crockron.

Both times when she laid eyes on the children, she expected her reaction to be tearful. “I couldn’t even cry,” she remembers. “I was stunned, in awe. I immediately loved them.”

Now, watching them grow, she measures her responsibility with faith.

“As a mother, I am responsible for demonstrating God’s unconditional love to my children. I attempt to do this by teaching and displaying obedience, self-control, grace and discipline.”

The children’s musical talents continue to surprise the couple. One has a rhythm; the other is always singing.

But being raised by musically inclined parents, one would have a hard time not following in their paths.

Crockron’s husband, Otis, often plays in local restaurants and leads worship with their church group, Banners of Praise. She solos and occasionally duets in the alto with her husband in the same group. Her light lyric soprano has graced numerous operas. “My voice is suited for (characters in) Mozart operas: ‘Susannah,’ ‘Pamina,’ ‘The Countess’ or ‘The First Lady.’”

She claims that singing worship and opera are different experiences: opera is performance, with eyes on her; worship is solely for God. She clarifies, “Opera is more technically driven, whereas worship has a heart connection.” She adds, “My operatic voice does not blend well in contemporary Christian music.”

What she most enjoys is teaching. A bachelor’s in vocal music performance and music education and a near-completed master’s in vocal pedagogy allow her to teach at both Rio Grande Community College/University of Rio Grande, and through Ohio University’s Athens Community Music School. “I love to see someone ‘get it’,” she says. “I use a lot of imagery in my teaching. I sing only when appropriate and necessary, if I’m trying to speed up the learning process.”

Upon arrival in Athens in 1989, she was ready to make this her home. “There are two places you grow up – one with your parents, and the other after you are away from your parents,” says Crockron. “I grew up in Athens for the second time.”

She says she loves the small-town community. She acknowledges that at times she has experienced others’ racial inappropriateness, but her overall outlook is positive. “I think one of the ways I serve Athens best is by living here,” she says. “For example, a friend of mine allowed me to hold her 6-month-old baby. She said I was the first African-American to hold her. Initially I laughed and then I realized. ‘Yeah, that’s pretty important.’”

Her reasons for being concerned about today’s issues are simple: she’s got a plan. She says of the future, “I am happy by doing what I love, cracking jokes with my husband, and seeing my kids graduate from college.”

The next few weeks are on her mind and heart. “I’ve encouraged people to register to vote,” she says. “I volunteer for the candidate I’ve chosen.”

The last few years she has been convinced of the importance of an election. “I felt that I needed to pay attention to the news, be more informed about the decisions that I was making, and stop wasting my vote.” She says faith and God are important to her, but so is a president. “He is not the savior, but he does happen to rule the country,” she says.

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.