Instead of seeking out nature’s splendors amidst the highlands of West Virginia or the horse farms of Kentucky, I embarked on a journey to document the derelict abandonments scattered across our region. There is an undeniable beauty to be found in these forgotten structures, a visual poetry in the peeling paint and rusting machinery that echoes the grandeur of stately trees and grazing livestock.
Instead of seeking out nature’s splendors amidst the highlands of West Virginia or Kentucky horse farms, I embarked on a journey to document the derelict abandonments scattered across our region. There is an undeniable beauty to be found in these forgotten structures, a visual poetry in the peeling paint and rusting machinery that echoes the grandeur of stately trees and grazing livestock.
My odyssey began in the hills of Cincinnati, winding eastward along the charming National Road through central Ohio. I wandered the abandoned railroad bed of the Central Ohio Railrway in Barnesville, now a graveled path hinting at future trails. The 423-foot tunnel beneath the town’s center once saw 37 trains rumble through daily until the line’s abandonment in 1983. Nearby stands the stately Barnesville Railroad Depot, a 1916 Federal-style structure with Spanish Mission accents, narrowly saved from demolition and listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
The rolling Appalachian hills en route to Wheeling evoked nostalgia for the region’s fading heritage. In St. Clairsville, I marveled at the impressive Blaine Hill Viaduct, its open-spandrel arches a rare architectural gem amidst Ohio’s ubiquitous girder bridges. Beneath it lies the Blaine Hill “S” Bridge, a three-span stone archway constructed in 1826 as part of the nation’s first federally funded highway. Narrowly rescued from demolition, it was designated Ohio’s official bicentennial bridge in 2001.
Wheeling itself offers a sobering portrait of urban decline. Entire neighborhoods lie abandoned, industries demolished, and the once-vital Baltimore and Ohio Railroad line is now gone. And yet, amidst this desolation, the city’s historic Victorian architecture endures, a treasure trove of 19th-century craftsmanship now imperiled by misguided plans for demolition to create a mere ballfield.
It’s not as if Wheeling suddenly declined in the past few years. It’s been losing population for over 80 years, to which I previously attributed the beginnings of Yost’s Law. That law essentially forced the closure of the city’s main breweries and taverns and ultimately led to a major job loss. Wheeling was an immigrant-fueled city, after all – the Germans built much of the city’s architecture, which is so endangered today.
My journey then led me to the nearly abandoned Washington Mall, a haunting reminder of retail’s fleeting fortunes. Its concourses stood empty, its storefronts boarded up, its once-bustling corridors now echoing with the drip of leaking tar. A cautionary tale, perhaps, of the perils that await when short-sighted development supplants sound planning.
Apparently, Washington Mall has been in a state of limbo for years. To add to its disarray, J.C. Penny moved out several years ago to The Foundry at South Strabane, a new shopping center a mile away, one that was built on a massive fill overlooking a valley. But when that shopping center began to fail due to foundation settling, J.C. Penny moved back into Washington Mall.
Throughout this sojourn, I witnessed not just the physical decay of our built environment, but also the fading of our region’s rich industrial heritage. These relics, both grand and modest, stand as poignant reminders of the enduring human quest to create, to build, to shape our world. In their abandonment, they offer a melancholy beauty, a testament to the impermanence of even our most ambitious endeavors. It is a fragile legacy we must strive to preserve, lest we lose the very soul of our communities.
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Add Yours →Unfortunatley many of the photos you posted of the historic Wheeling victorian buildings are not loading on the webpage 🙁