Norton church’s attic unsealed for relic hunt
Local historian curates display case, researches the building’s history
What’s up there?
A chest of gold coins, a cache of religious relics, a crate of milk bottles? It could be just about anything.
Norton historian Lisa Merrick wanted to know.
Merrick, 62, a lifelong member of Grace United Church of Christ of Loyal Oak, learned there was a sealed attic in the nearly 140-year-old building and offered to explore it.
She’s been creating a display of forgotten artifacts that were stored in the church at 3285 S. Cleveland-massillon Road, including the congregation’s original 1883 German Bible, a 19th century teacher’s bell and World War II chaplain’s cases containing a silver cross, Communion cups, wafer box, wine bottles and candlesticks.
“It was all crushed back in our library,” Merrick explained. “I said, ‘Why is this stuff just sitting back here? Nobody can enjoy it.’ ”
So she’s curating a display case and researching the church’s history.
The congregation dates back to 1845 when German Americans settled in the farming community of Bates Corners, the present interchange of Clevelandmassillon and Wadsworth roads, which villagers later called Loyal Oak.
Two congregations, Lutheran and Reformed, shared a sandstone church, built in 1851, and held services in German on alternate Sundays until 1885 when the groups built adjacent houses of worship.
The 190-member Lutheran and 140member Reformed congregations used stones from the original building as foundations for their new churches. Grace Reformed Church, forerunner of Grace UCC, dedicated its home Jan. 17, 1886, with the Rev. E.H. Otting as pastor.
“There was a large audience present and everybody expressed himself as well pleased with the new place of worship,” the Beacon Journal reported.
Built in the Carpenter Gothic style of architecture, the steeple and belfry were the dominant features of the woodframe building with a slate roof and white clapboard exterior. The interior woodwork was primarily in cherry.
“The walls and ceilings are handsomely frescoed,” the newspaper noted. “The pulpit and choir stand are not very elaborate but are neat and comfortable in every detail.”
The church cost about $3,500, which would be $117,000 today.
Over the decades, the congregation made several improvements, adding a classroom in 1922, a kitchen in 1925, a hand-dug basement in 1946 and a fellowship hall in 1957. That’s a lot of history.
Eager to search old attic
Inside the church on a cold February morning, Merrick pointed out a carved wood baptismal font near the altar.
“I was baptized in that — and I’ve been good ever since,” she smiled.
She stopped in front of a framed 1925 photo of the Grace congregation and looked toward the sanctuary.
“These same people sat in those pews,” she marveled. “I think about that every Sunday.”
After church leaders granted Merrick permission to explore the attic, she mentioned the search to retired Norton Fire Chief Rodger Ramsthaler, a fellow member of the Norton Historical Society.
“Well, I’d go up with you,” Ramsthaler said. “That would be an experience.”
Preparing for decades of grime, they met at the church wearing old clothes, hats, coats, gloves and masks.
“I know there’s raccoons up in front because I heard them,” Merrick explained. “Eeee eeee eeee.”
Church volunteer Bob Covington, head of the building committee, led the historians to the front of the church.
“It’s like Geraldo all over again,” Covington joked, referring to Geraldo Rivera’s infamous live broadcast in 1986 when excavators cracked open Chicago gangster Al Capone’s former vault and found an empty room.
“I can’t wait to go up there,” Merrick said.
Covington carried an aluminum ladder into the wedding room, a small chamber where brides can get ready before ceremonies, and positioned it under a rectangular hatch in the ceiling. He used box cutters to open the paintedover panel and then pushed up.
“This is where it gets messy,” Covington said.
A rain of dry poop fell on the carpet. Definitely raccoons.
Explorers climb into ceiling
After decorum was restored, Covington and Ramsthaler held the ladder as Merrick climbed up and peered into the darkness with a flashlight.
“Oh, this is interesting,” she said. “It’s not what I expected. I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to get up there.”
She twisted around, found the best angle and pulled herself through the claustrophobic entrance.
“There you go!” Ramsthaler cheered as Merrick disappeared from view. He followed her into the blackness. Those who stayed below heard careful footsteps, squeaky beams, occasional coughs, a few grunts and muffled talk. “That’s the bell tower!” Merrick said. The dusty explorers found a rickety ladder, made of boards and nails, that led to the belfry. Formerly rung every Sunday, the original 1880s bell remains, but the rope is gone and it’s been more than a decade since the last peal.
Merrick and Ramsthaler admired the 19th century construction of the attic, including hand-hewn boards, but they didn’t find any secret treasure.
“Lisa, I’m glad you went first,” Ramsthaler said with a laugh as they climbed down. “You got all the cobwebs out.”
The search wasn’t over. They still had places to check.
Acolyte Bill Grabenhorst, who has belonged to the church for 68 years, ran a vacuum cleaner over the carpet. Future brides will never know what happened.
Nooks and crannies of church
Covington led the group downstairs to a large wooden cupboard filled with boxed records. Merrick said some ledgers are from the church’s earliest days. She wants to study them further.
The group proceeded to the basement and opened a door to a dug-out area with a dirt floor.
“You can get a sense of some of the original digging,” Covington said.
Chisel marks were visible on sandstone blocks.
“That’s the original wall,” Merrick said. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Still no secret treasure.
The historians had one more section of attic to explore, so they returned upstairs to the 1920s classroom. Covington explained that a pull-down stairway hidden in the ceiling was connected to counterweights — two huge blocks attached with hemp ropes.
“What I’m going to ask is that everybody kind of stay back a little while I lower it, just in case one of those boulders comes off,” Covington said.
He used a hand drill to unscrew the latch. The stairs lowered. “Ewww,” Merrick said.
More poop.
One by one, the explorers climbed into the attic. They twisted an old light bulb, which cast a faint glow. Natural light filtered through cracks in the roof.
The writing on the wall
Merrick gingerly walked from beam to beam. She’d been told there might be “boxesofstuff”intheattic.
She found a brittle envelope to give money to the long-defunct St. Paul’s Orphans’ Home of the Reformed Church. The envelope was empty.
Ramsthaler and Merrick shined flashlights on a wall and noticed handwriting in blue chalk. They found a date, April 10, 1922, and three scrawled names: William M. Richard, H. Knecht and Honaker.
“We still have Honakers that go here,” Merrick said.
That was a neat find.
But there were no boxes. No treasure chests.
Maybe this was “like Geraldo” after all.
Merrick expressed disappointment that she didn’t discover any artifacts to add to her display.
“It was still an adventure,” she said. Ramsthaler said it was worth it to view the interior architecture.
“I like the basement parts and attic parts to see how things go together,” he said.
Covington lifted the stairway and drilled it into place.
“Sorry they didn’t find anything big up there,” he said.
Merrick will continue to organize the library, sift through records and look for relics. She will happily return at 10:30 a.m. Sunday for the service led by pastor Kurt Wieser.
There was no hidden treasure. As it turns out, the church was the treasure.
Mark J. Price can be reached at mprice@thebeaconjournal.com.