Out for a walk one evening I met a lady from Pittsburgh whose camper was just a couple spots away from us.
They come to Holmes County often. When they need some peace and quiet this is where they come.
Because they come so often they have pretty much explored everywhere. We talked about where Walt & I had been so far.
She said she had a recommendation for us and walked to her car to get a brochure for me.
She said we probably have never heard of the place and that that is a shame. But, what she should have said is Prepare to Be Amazed.
It is the Warther Museum. It is the story of a man and his wife that is hard to wrap your head around. They lived and raised their family in this small brick home in Dover, Ohio.
His name was Ernest "Mooney" Warther and her name was Freida. They both had hobbies.
Hers were gardening and button collecting.
Those buttons were turned into artful masterpieces.
She sewed or somehow attached the buttons onto fabric panels in dozens of dizzying geometric patterns.
While Freida's talent was commendable it is his that defies belief.
Ernest "Mooney" Warther was born in Dover, Ohio on October 30, 1885 to Swiss immigrants. His father died when he was 3 and his mother struggled to keep the family fed. Because of the economic situation Mooney only went to school through the 2nd grade. He became a herdsman. For a penny a day, he would take cattle from Dover to pasture in outlying areas, returning them at nightfall. On one of those trips to the fields he found an old rusty penknife and he began to whittle.
A hobo carved him a pair of working wooden pliers from a single block of wood. Mooney took it home, studied it and then mastered how to carve pliers. These pliers became his calling card. It is estimated he carved about 750,000 pliers in his lifetime. Those were all given away. He never sold any of his carvings.
At the age of l4, he quit herding cows and got a job as a scrap bundler in the local steel mill. See the carved pliers on the right? Always out of one block of wood no matter how many pair together.
He worked at the steel mill for 23 years and helped the mill in it's efficiency with inventions to make the work easier. This is his carving of his work place. Mr. Warther would carve from 2 to 5 a.m., then go to work in the machine shop, then come home and carve for two more hours. Only five hours a day to create masterpieces.
The work place carving is exact down to the finest detail........that of the coal tender taking a nip out of his flask "for medicinal purposes."
Mooney set about the task to see how many pliers he could make if each handle of the original plier was then carved to form a new set of pliers, and so on, and so on. This block of wood was made into 511 interconnected pliers.
The piece required some 31,000 cuts and each branch can fully articulate like a functional pair of pliers all the way down to the base of the trunk. Math professors from Case University in Cleveland studied it, and declared that it was impossible to replicate. I wish I could have gotten a better photo but the display was revolving so either the movement or the glare were there. This man was a genius. He didn't follow patterns.........he just saw what he wanted to do and did it. Believe it or not he considered this amazing tree as "just whittling."
Once Mooney had taken the pliers challenge as far as he wanted he turned his carving to his love of trains. That is when he felt he made the change from whittling to carving. When he was young the railroad companies would toss out their old repair manuals, he would collect them and study how they were built. By age 18, he knew every nut, bolt and rivet that held them together.”
He considered his greatest work to be carving perfect scale replicas of massive locomotive steam engines.
Mooney chose to scale all of his models to 1/2 inch equals 1 ft., and he would carve them from walnut, ebony and ivory.
Many of his carvings have small built-in motors so that the engine wheels turn, and Mooney used a special oily Brazilian wood for the bearings so that they would never need lubrication.
Completion of one carving at a time was the order of business for this mathematical and mechanical genius. Every piece -- and some of the carvings have over 7,500 -- was carved by hand, every pipe, rivet, and lump of coal, even the teeny tiny connecting rods and itty bitty screws, all of which work flawlessly. With only a workbench, a vise, and some hand-made knives, Mooney did this. He even carved perfectly round wheels. The experts put their calipers to his work, shrugged their shoulders, and said that it was impossible.
He learned to forge and temper steel from the neighborhood blacksmith. He wasn't satisfied with the quality of the knives he could buy, so in 1902 he started making knives of his own. He designed a knife that fit his hand well and had a selection of replaceable blades about an inch long that locked into place for his different carving needs.
His mother complained that she couldn't make her knives stay sharp so he made her one. Her friends loved it and soon he was selling kitchen knives to her friends as well as pocket knives to their husbands. That was the start of the Warther Kitchen Cutlery business which is in the same building as the museum and run by family members. Each knife today is still made entirely by hand.
My favorite was the Abraham Lincoln Funeral Train. It is authentic down to a tiny Lincoln in his tiny casket inside one car.
The New York Central Railroad heard about Mooney's carvings and in 1923 made him an offer to exhibit his models on a special train. Mooney quit his job after 23 years at the mill and toured the country displaying his carvings for six months. After that, he displayed them in Grand Central Station in New York City for another two and a half years. He talked about his carving and made souvenir pliers for the showgoers. At the close of the show the railroad offered him $50.000 for his carvings and $5000 a year to remain with the display at the station, but he declined their offer. He also received an even more handsome offer from Henry Ford but turned that down too. He replied, "My roof doesn't leak, I'm not hungry and my wife has all her buttons."
All this from a man who only went to the 2nd grade, used no patterns, and worked off a vision. Ernest never considered what he did to be particularly special. It just came naturally to him, and he pursued it until his death at age 82.
I could continue to laud this man's accomplishments but this is very long. I hope that this museum becomes more well known so others can be as amazed as we were. If you are anywhere near Dover, Ohio I would highly recommend a day at the Warther Museum.