Ohio Folklore
Ohio Folklore
Legend of the Fiddler's Green
Hello and welcome to Ohio folklore. I'm your host Melissa Davies. If you haven't already, please rate review and subscribe to Ohio folklore on your chosen podcast platform. You can also find Ohio folklore at Ohio folklore.com And on Facebook. Today, we're talking about the legend of the Fiddler's Green. It's a story that's faded from public memory. But it's a story worth remembering. Let's explore this legendary story from the early to mid 1800s. Henry Darby was born in rural New York in 1781. He would eventually move to the hills of Virginia before finally purchasing 300 acres along the winding Ohio River near current day Dell high Township. This is located 10 miles west of Cincinnati. In 1825, Darby would build a stately in overlooking the river. It was alleged to harbor fugitive slaves, a purported stop on the Underground Railroad, the structure still stands today. almost two centuries ago, locals from North Bend pondered on the strange lonesome fiddle music that could be heard wafting over the Ohio River on dark desolate nights. It came from the hills on the northern Ohio bank. It would start once all lanterns were extinguished. After the last cabin along the river retired for the night. One by one homes grew dark, their windows indistinguishable from the outside walls. When the Moon was new, and the world cast in a blackness punctuated only by stars, the fiddle music would start low and mournful. It must have been an otherworldly experience to the few who were out and about to hear it. It must have been one of those rare moments when routine life is interrupted with an unexpected wander, and a kind of glorious confusion. I'm sure some simply let the notes wash over them, enjoying the surprising beauty of the moment. Something like this was heard by a random few who happened to be up in the wee small hours. Maybe it was a mother rocking her restless newborn on a front porch chair. Maybe it was a farmer unable to sleep and out for a walk his head heavy with worry. Or maybe it was a pair of teenage lovers meeting down by the river for a secret rendezvous. Whoever heard these sweet sounds would naturally look for the source, peering through the inky blackness in a northerly direction. If they didn't give up too soon, and let their eyes adjust, they'd spot it. A lone speck of light with a hint of green outlining the edges who'd be playing fiddle at this time of night. One group of people knew exactly who and what this was. The lonesome music. The speck of light didn't bring them wonder and confusion, but sweet relief and a joyous hope it was meant for them. The legend of the Fiddler's Green is a story not known by many Ohioans today. It's not even known well by nanny Cincinnatians. But with a little digging, it's not hard to unearth the tale. Most people come upon the story by accident, much like those for more than a century ago, who came upon disembodied music in the dead of the night. Some claim to hear the music yet today. Most of these claims come from the residents of an area called Dell high Township. It's 10 square miles border the mighty Ohio River as it meanders through hills and ravines cut by the river itself over aeons within del high township are about 30,000 residents. They enjoy many parks and public spaces with hiking trails that are bound along the scenic river. One such trail can be found off of Bender Road, then up a steep driveway to a retirement community. If you keep to the right and you park your car and the backlot, you'll see a utility building. Walk on past it and you'll discover a sign reading Darby Lee historic cemetery A small Trailhead leads into a wooded area and the short path Lanzhou at the epicenter of this legend. Here is an historic, overgrown and dilapidated 18th century graveyard. It contains only 17 registered plots. Through the years. Many passers by have reported hearing for Lauren fiddle music coming from this spot. Many have spotted a small green light hovering above the tombstones. All this unexplained activity has persisted for nearly two centuries, as the Ohio River streams by 1600 feet below just what kind of strange stories exist about this tiny overgrown cemetery. Most of the accounts come from unknowing passers by, like residents and visitors of the retirement community are those hiking on lower trails closer to the river's edge. These unsuspecting people report hearing the disembodied music and seeing a hovering green light that resembles a handheld lantern. Both the music and the light fade into nothingness as they move forward to inspect it. Upon finding the cemetery, the music and the light extinguished, completely, leaving these searchers in a state of confusion and wonder. At one point, these claims had become so well known that goes Tanner's made a habit of looking for the experience themselves. They sojourn to the cemetery with the hope of capturing the music and the light on their recording devices. It's not an easy task to navigate the narrow wooded trail in the dark. They had to be careful not to trip on dead and leaves and branches. As their flashlights pierce the darkness, the beams finally landing on centuries old tombstones. Sadly, both the music and light are known to refuse showing themselves to those who go looking for them. It's as if the fiddler prefers the secrecy of the shadows. Perhaps he wishes to communicate his message from afar. Perhaps he has reason to. The legend as told by locals and times gone by is that one man was known for spiriting fugitive slaves across the river to this very spot. He had built a two storey in which stands today at 5404 River Road. The original owner of this still standing structure was one Henry Darby. In addition to owning the end, he was a farmer that own 300 acres of fertile land along the riverbank. The cemetery which now bears his name, and his final resting place, is the epicenter of these unexplained experiences. It's situated only about 1000 feet above the end on the northern bank of the Ohio River. The story goes that Henry Darby knew the routines of local law enforcement, who patrolled the river's edge, looking for fugitive slaves trying to cross into the Free State of Ohio. Henry also knew that Slave Hunters hopeful for a bounty were known to search the area for escaping slaves. Darby was known to wait for just the right conditions, a dark moonless night, a break from the regular patrols, and the desolate quiet that settled in when bounty hunters moved on to other sections of the river. It was then when he would traipse up the hill, to the densely wooded spot that would one day hold his grave. There he would set his lantern shining green on a tree stump. Then he'd raise a fiddle to his chin, and glide a bow effortlessly across the strings. He was calling desperate souls waiting on Kentucky's bank. It was then when these people, humans that had been bought and sold by other humans would resume their trek northward. Some the stronger and more fit among them, would attempt to swim the expanse. They'd fight the current to keep from drifting on past the sound of the fiddle. Others would launch makeshift rafts, perhaps a few large branches tied together with ropes. Some traveled in groups, but others preferred to go alone. Those who survived their journey across the river would continue onward, trekking up through the dense woods to the source of the federal calling them soaked and exhausted, they would finally come face to face with the smiling Henry Darby. He would extinguish his lantern to allow a cover of night They would class pans as they painstakingly followed his lead through the darkness through the thick underbrush, until they reached the shelter of derbies farm buildings. On finally reaching safety, Darby would stash the fugitives away in some hidden location. There, they would stay the rest of the night, or perhaps longer, until arrangements could be made for the next leg of their journey northward. This is the folk tale that was so well known by locals that an entire musical was written on the subject in 1963. A professor Cecil Hale Hartley of neighboring mount Joseph University, wrote the legend of the Fiddler's Green. It would be performed by the local drama team that same year, he based the tale on folklore that has existed in the area since the mid 19th century. Since then, however, the tail has largely grown dormant few del high township residents today, even those who live on the aptly named Fiddler's Green Road, no of the legendary claims. Let's revive it. Let's dig into the history and see what can be known. A story of this importance deserves a full hearing. Luckily, you're about to get one. To start with, let's hear from a local peg Schmidt is a member of the Dell high Historical Society. She's a resident expert on Henry Darby, and has given tours of the cemetery, especially around Halloween time. Let's hear what she has to teach us of the known history. So I came across the name as I was researching the legend, Henry Darby. And it looks like you're a bit of a local expert on this history. Yeah, I know a little bit about it. So what kind of questions did you have? So you have a copy of The Legend of the Fiddler's Green, which was the musical that was written in the 60s right there early 60s. Yes. It was around the time of the opening of the new campus for what is now Mount St. Joseph University. It was the College of Mount St. Joseph at the time. So one of the professors there, wrote this play, the cemetery, where Henry Darby is buried is on the property of the Sisters of Charity that operate who operate the college. So that's why I think all the students on the campus knew about the cemetery and it was right there on their campus. He was a figure that was well known in the community. He was probably well known just because of where his house was, was. It's a very old house. It's one of the oldest houses in the county with an end, and it was on the main road between Cincinnati and North Bend, which is where William Henry Harrison lived. And so the lead this is another legend that William Henry Harrison always stopped there or he even stayed there because it would have been quite a trip to go back and forth from Cincinnati to North Bend. That house is still standing and it's in really bad condition. But it wasn't in we know that in Henry Darby operated it. So he was a contemporary of William Henry Harrison. I did come across that online law historical newspaper articles about the connection between him and William Henry Harrison. And I also came across an article in the Inquirer, Cincinnati Enquirer in 1984. That went into some depth describing the end and kind of its ornate fixtures, fireplaces and all that kind of stuff. So it does sound like it was quite a landmark. The it was it still is I think a lot of people still know. You know what it is the road that parallels the US 50 is Darby lane. So that's where I've seen Darby lane. And I've also seen Fiddler's Green Road. Yes, and I think that that Cecil Hale named him he was on the radio on WWE radio here in Cincinnati and use the word in the name Cecil Hale when he was broadcasting but his last name was really hardly But anyway, he. I think he just used Fiddler's Green because in the play he was trying to emphasize the fiddler part. of the I don't know if you know the what the legend is. I've read about it, but I would love to hear your take on it if you'd like to just share the story as you know it. Okay, well, the legend is that Henry Darby his headstone, I think he died prior to the Civil War. The cemetery overlooks the Ohio River. And Kentucky is on the other side of Ohio's on one side and Kentucky's across the river and his, his headstone is the main headstone in this little cemetery. And the story is that someone would play a fiddle and light a green light, which would be a message to the people over in Kentucky who were trying to escape slavery, that it was okay to cross that it was safe and they could come across. And that's basically what the story what the play is about. But there there is no proof that anyone crossed the river at that point. If slaves were escaping, it's likely they were east of there. The Mount St. Joseph is now one of the questions I had about that, and maybe you can shed some light on the understandably, any efforts that were made towards the Underground Railroad would have been very hush hush, and not publicized. So how, as a researcher or historian, would you go about trying to unearth evidence of that a lot of people have tried for any kind of proof that anybody was crossing the river at this point. And nobody has found anything. I found some old newspaper articles that talk about Anderson ferry, which is probably a mile east of where the derbies lived maybe a little bit more than a mile. And there, there were, there was a newspaper article in the 1890s, early 1900s, to talk about this house being party Underground Railroad. But it was just again, another legend. It really is hard to prove. Now we have a museum here in Cincinnati, that they've done quite a bit of research. It's called the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center. It's actually free center now. They were never a I went down there and talked with them. And they're all of their their focuses mainly the downtown Cincinnati area and east of there, which is in Ripley, Ohio, where there was a lot of activity going on. And that was, I think, pretty much everybody in that town knew that they were bringing people across, there were some plantations in right across the river, actually from where the derbies lived, that had slaves. Whether any of them last, I don't know. And in fact, I think the one they, they have a slave cabin at the Freedom Center. And it I think it is from Boone County, which is, which is right across from where the Darby is lived. I see. Yeah, so there's no hard evidence. And of course, it's not something you can really disprove you can't prove a negative. Right, you're just left with the folklore and the legend about it. The river was low enough that at some point, some people you could actually almost walk across it at some parts of the year. So that it isn't that way anymore, because they've dam they put in a bunch of dams, but it used to be that in summer, the river could get as low as five or 10 feet in the middle, which means from the you could walk across most of it and swim just a few feet. You know, so it could have happened. But once that legend built up, I think we had it kind of took on a life of its own, which I guess legends do and and so now everybody, you know people need to believe that it was a haunted cemetery. Since the cemetery is so central to this legend, let's explore it further. The names and dates listed there are verifiable. It primarily contains two notable families namely and Darby. The Li name refers to a Peterlee, a veteran of the Revolutionary War. He originally owned the property and lived to the ripe old age of 92 dying in 1848. He was the first to bury a loved one there, his wife Ruth in 1819. He would later sell his entire acreage to another farmer. It would eventually land in the hands of Henry Darby. The cemetery would remain a cemetery all those years. It would contain loved ones of both families, with the last known burial of Margaret Darby Mayhew in 1909. Henry Darby was born in 1781 in rural New York, only about five years after the United States won its independence. As a young man, he traveled to Virginia. There, he would meet and marry his wife, Margaret Baker in 1816. The couple would welcome their first child that same year, a son named Andrew and only a few years later, the small family would travel to the Ohio River Valley and purchase an initial plot of 190 acres situated along the Ohio River. It would take a few years for the couple to save the money to build a two storey in an 1825. It still overlooks the Ohio River today. The VISTA from its front porch offers a wide view of all movement up and down the river. It would be a perfect vantage point for monitoring ideal conditions for clandestine crossings of the Ohio. By 1825, the Darby children numbered for two boys and two girls, little George Darby wouldn't arrive until five years later in 1830. His remains would be the first of the Darby family to be interred in the little cemetery on the hill. He died at only five years old. three younger sisters would outlive him bringing the remaining Darby siblings to seven. This would last until 16 year old Eliza Darby would die in 1842. The most prominent tombstone within the cemetery proclaims the deaths of little George Eliza and their famous father, Henry Darby. Many other family members, including his wife, Margaret Henry, Jr. and others would be buried there as well. From these gravestones, we can learn only the basics about the Darby family. Oftentimes, that's all we're left with for stories of this age. Fortunately, other records exist which detail the remarkable and Storied Life of Henry Darby. An article published in The Cincinnati Enquirer on July 27 1884, with detail the well known history of Derby's crossing, as the area was come to be known. The reporter marveled that an apple tree planted on Henry Darby his arrival in the early 1820s Still bore fruit. Perhaps what was more remarkable was the fact that the legend itself had taken root. By 1884, Henry Darby had been dead for over 30 years, he was still well known within the community. Public Records make no mention of his involvement with fugitive slaves. But of course, such information, if it were true, would likely have been kept from the public eye. Those details simply cannot be confirmed in the public record. What can be known, however, is this. derbys en was a prominent landmark on the bank of the Ohio only 10 miles downstream from Cincinnati. At first, Darby had much trouble managing the erosion caused by the ever flowing waters at the Ohio acre after acre was being washed downstream. To stop this he constructed a pavement from the edge of the riverbank to a line of large stones set edgewise in the river. As dirt and debris piled up in this makeshift partial dam, he planted willows and other vegetation in the dense rich soil. This project would cost him $4,000 An enormous price tag in that day and age, it would pay off. Census records would show that only two years before his death in 1850 Darby his farm was worth an estimated $40,000 1.3 million in today's dollars. The partial dam had stopped the erosion of his land and increase the value of his property tenfold. This farm stood out among the more modest properties. Most farmers in the area were lucky to have two or three horses and a few cattle. By 1850. Darby amassed 14 horses, seven cows and 14 pigs. He had an apple orchard which yielded golden apples and fields of corn and wheat. He employed nine farmhands, all of them recent immigrants of mostly Irish descent. Walking inside the front door The imposing in one entered a grand space with high ceilings and a gorgeous hardwood floor. shelves along the wall held decanters filled with brandy and wine. Weary guests were welcomed with an evening nightcap before retiring to their rooms. The main room had two large picture windows, which offered a wide view of the Ohio streaming by with barges, canoes and waiting fishermen. Not to mention the wildlife, a fireplace formed guests and cold months. Over time, additions had to be made to the structure to accommodate the growing business. Lodging included meals, even for the travelers horse who was kept in the farm stables. The end survived catastrophic floods, including those of 1832 1883 and 1884. The last one had reached nine inches above the second floor. Although the heavy stone structure survived. Many of the Darby families historical documents got washed away. All but a few documents remained. One of them proves very curious. It reads like a thinly veiled reference to what might have been the farms role in sheltering fugitive slaves. Obviously, the Darby family couldn't risk having records that told the actual story of illegal activities. The document you're about to hear read may have been using metaphorical language. It reads, quote of an account of the emigration of squirrels from the Kentucky side to this territory, and it is presumed that not one in every four is killed. Unquote. Fast forward 19 years and Henry Darby his reputation within the Ohio River Valley still loomed large. In 1903, The Cincinnati Enquirer published a feature article on the pioneers of the old lower river road, he was counted among them. By this time, Henry had been dead for over 50 years. However, time would not erase him from local Cincinnatians memories. To get a sense for just how he was remembered. Take a listen to this paragraph. One of the greatest Characters of All Times who lived down there beyond the Doom farm was Henry Darby. For many years, there was hardly ever a parade in Cincinnati that included vehicles without Mr. Darby in his barouche. With his apples for distribution. His vehicle would generally be surmounted by an apple tree branch still carrying apples. He lived in a large stone house of two stories with large roomy porches. One of these he for years kept in the public view, the old family carriage of General William Henry Harrison. That's right. Henry Darby was a known friend to our nation's ninth president, William Henry Harrison. You may recall that our local historian Peggy Schmidt mentioned that fact. Harrison was the first president to die in office after only serving 31 days of his term, he'd succumb to what was believed to be typhoid fever. Despite his untimely demise, Harrison is also remembered for other reasons. He was the last president who had once lived as a subject under the reign of Great Britain's monarchy. He had earned the nickname Old typical New from his role leading infantry forces against Native American tribes at the Battle of Fallen Timbers and the Battle of tippy canoe. Although Harrison was born in Virginia at age 22, he would meet his wife and assigns in North Bend, Ohio. Harrison would soon buy 160 acre farm just a few miles from derbies in, they would raise a family of 10 children. Notably, Harrison was also known to a father had six children with an enslaved African American woman he owned named Delsea. As William Henry Harrison, his political career blossomed, his fame grew as well. He was a celebrity of sorts, and locals were known to visit his farm in hopes of connecting with him and his family. Darby in constituted a solution of sorts. General Harrison was known to book a room, even though his fine carriage could easily be spotted parked outside. Darby and his staff provided a level of security, keeping gawkers and clamoring locals at bay. It was an arrangement that worked well for all parties. General Harrison enjoyed a layer of privacy, and the end became known as lodging that for John Roll. It's hard to know what the public made of the Southern born generals crimes against the people he owned. The crow fact is that many slave owners were known to sexually assault and thus impregnate their female slaves. One must wonder what it meant for Henry Darby, the alleged supporter of fugitive slaves to maintain and promote this friendship, perhaps have provided the perfect cover a disguise if you like, distancing himself from any hint of such illegal activities. The word whispered among many locals of the time, however, was that Henry Darby, his federal, and his shining Green Lantern, helped aid countless people into the freedom they so richly deserved. So just what are we to make of this legendary story, as is often the case, we're faced with a mix of historical fact and nearly two centuries of hearsay. We know that Henry Darby was a remarkable figure in his own right. We know from newspaper articles published long after his death, that he was viewed by others as a successful farmer and business owner. We know that others envied his connection to power and celebrity. We know that he was lauded and loved and that he was given a place of honor and parades, and that everyone knew that the fine building overlooking the river was Barbies in but what else did his contemporaries know? What did they suspect? What did they detect in the distant, sad fiddle music reaching their unexpected ears in the dead of night? What are we to believe today? The legend as it remains can be viewed as a tale of heroism. Our protagonist, Henry Darby, a man of considerable standing in the community risks at all in order to answer a deeper calling, we can see him as a kind of Crusader. He battles the evils of his day with the beauty and elegance of a violin. He is a man who uses his riches and his fortunate location to call forth desperate souls longing for freedom. Of course, this tale appeals to us who doesn't love a renegade and the cause for righteousness and freedom. However, I'd like to offer another angle here. I'd like to invite you to look further inward, and explore what it means to love a hero story like this. Many of us relate easily to such a protagonist. We like to think ourselves in some ways similar, or that perhaps we'd have chosen to do the same thing. And even more than that, these stories give us a shot at redemption ourselves. I mean, if we all embrace a character who fights tyranny and enslavement, then that means we end up on the same right side of history to write. Maybe the larger lesson to be learned here is an awareness of what it means to have a folktale that springs forth from one of our nation's darkest chapters. The legacy revealed from stories like this reveals the evil of slavery when humans owned other humans, when any attempt at Freedom required great uncertainty, suffering, and death. Let's be careful not to get swept away in the heroism of lone characters, while forgetting the countless souls who never escaped, who were born, lived and died in slavery. If only such history never existed, perhaps there'd be more such stories as these about those countless people who never found their freedom. May we never forget them. This concludes today's episode on the legend of the Fiddler's Green, I hope you enjoyed it. If so, please rate review and subscribe to Ohio folklore on your chosen podcast platform. You can also find Ohio folklore at Ohio folklore.com And on Facebook. And as always, keep wandering