Ohio has a lot of famous sons and daughters. If you do a little research, you may be shocked to see just who these Buckeyes are and how many are on the list. The list is so very long but for starters, there's Neil Armstrong, John Glenn, Annie Oakley, Steven Spielberg, Orville and Wilbur Wright, George Custer, Bob Hope, Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel (of Superman fame), William Tecumseh Sherman, Thomas Edison, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Harvey Firestone and B.F. Goodrich, James Thurber, and seven U.S. Presidents (Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford Hayes, James Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, William McKinley, William H. Taft, Warren Harding, along with William Henry Harrison who was born in Virginia but is often associated with Ohio). Of course, there are people we are not so proud of -- and I'm not mentioning any of them. And, on nobody's list -- either good or bad -- do you ever find Phillip Martin. But, I'm in good company it appears. Recently, I discovered the amazing talent and genius of Ernest "Mooney" Warther.
I know most of you never heard of that name. He's the Unknown Buckeye. Very fortunately for me, my buddy Jeff decided we needed a road trip.
Ernest Warther was born in 1885, and his family of Swiss immigrants settled in Dover, Ohio. Unfortunately, his father died when Ernest was only three years old. With that reality, the children in the family had to accept more responsibility in order for the family to survive. Young Ernest had the job of taking the family cow as well as those of other neighbors to pasture. During this time, he earned the nickname that followed him around for the rest of his life, Mooney. It comes from the Swiss German word moonae that means "bull of the herd".
After finding a knife along the road as a child while tending cattle near his home, Warther began his lifetime passion with wood carving. It has been described as a beautiful hobby that got out of control. Those are not my words -- and I never thought that when I visited his home and museum in Dover, Ohio. I was too busy looking for my socks that had been completely knocked off. The guy was an amazing talent, a Michelangelo with a knife. Some people think I'm patient when I draw my portraits and paint my Christmas egg ornaments. What I do is child's scribbling in comparison. This man, with only a second grade education, had talent that was unrivaled in the United States, Europe, and everywhere else. He deserved his title as "The World's Master Carver".
One of the many treasures in Dover, Ohio.
A little FYI, Warther didn't go to Africa to gather ivory or dig for precious gems. He started with broken billiard balls for ivory and later used ivory from elephants that died of natural causes in the wild. (This was way before any kind of international restrictions were set in place.) He also harvested some jewels from fancy broaches when he wanted them to be lights on the trains he created. You may get a hint of his perfectionism with this tidbit. He was not satisfied with the knives that he had for carving his trains, so he created his own knives. And, this little business became a sideline for supporting his family. Yes, Warther married his wife Frieda, another Swiss immigrant, in 1910. They had five children.
Around Christmas in 1922, an attorney from Cleveland, Joseph Hostetler, came to Dover to have a quality knife made. Just like me, the guy's socks were knocked off when he saw the collection of trains. He promised to tell his friends at the local Cleveland newspaper, The Plain Dealer. The feature in the newspaper came out the following February.
As it so happened (and do you believe in coincidence?), executives of the New York Central Railroad were meeting in Cleveland when the article came out. Warther was commissioned to take his locomotives on the road (as seen in the top photo on this page). He was paid $5,000 a year (which is close to $100,00 with today's dollar). In 1927, along with his brother Fred, Mooney developed a traveling road show. At one point, Walther said, “I felt like a pig in a drug store.” Who wouldn't? For thirty years, Fred traveled north, south, east, and west, from coast to coast, and border to border. He journeyed across all 48 states. It is estimated that well over 750,000 visitors saw the carvings while they were on tour. The trains were displayed at Grand Central Station in New York City as well as the World's Fairs in both Chicago and St. Louis. The artist and his work were also featured in Popular Mechanic and Ripley's Believe It or Not! Mooney even appeared on television shows with his trains.
Henry Ford, who liked what he saw and could buy almost anything he wanted, offered to purchase the train collection for $75,000 (nearly a million and a half dollars today) and pay Warther $5000 a year if he would move to Ford's museum in Dearborn, Michigan. Mooney (a true Buckeye even before it was a craze?) had no desire to carve in that dreaded state. He remained at his home in Dover and the world made a path to his door instead.
In 1936, Mooney opened a small museum behind his home to display his carvings. Rivaling the trains as the star attraction, Mooney himself was the curator for guests when he wasn't carving. And, he was very good at telling a tale. Not all of Warther's trains are in the museum that displays his work, but most of them are there. And, they are displayed in chronological order so you can see the progress of his work. His goal was simple (and staggering). He wanted to document the entire history of steam engine trains with his wood carvings.
The artist gave away some of his trains (when he wasn't satisfied with his work) and actually burned up a few others. But, Mooney never sold his work. That's why his collection in the Ernest Warther Museum and Gardens in Dover is so nearly complete. He didn't feel the need to part with his treasures. He once said, “My roof don’t leak, my family’s not hungry, and I don’t owe anybody.” End of debate (and all possible sales).
Warther didn't sleep much with an average of four hours a night. On most evenings (or wee hours of the morning), by 2:00 A.M., the artist was in his studio with his carving knife. It took most of his lifetime to complete his mission with the steam engine. In 1953, the last -- and 42nd -- engine was completed. By this time, the steam engine was replaced by the diesel engine, which did not interest Mooney.
The completion of such a task would leave a void. What was the sleepless artist supposed to do at 2:00 in the morning if he wasn't carving? Fortunately for Warther, his son David suggested that he continue carving historic events involving trains. One of the exhibits for the new project depicted the golden spike that completed the first transcontinental railroad in 1869. Warther used actual gold for the spike, which he got from his local dentist. My personal favorite piece in the museum was the funeral train that carried Abraham Lincoln from Washington D. C. to Springfield, Illinois. The train was seven feet long! It is a thing of magnificent beauty, just like all of his other work. The project took a year to complete, and it was finished on the 100th anniversary of the assassination. Lincoln was a personal hero of Warther throughout his life. It's certain that a good amount of extra love and care went into this project. You can peer into the train car windows to see a carving of Lincoln reclining in his coffin.
The Lincoln Train with a glimpse into the President's train car
Some geniuses are only recognized and lauded after their death. That was not the case with Warther. The artist was honored by the Dover Chamber of Commerce in 1947. Mooney was so moved by the recognition that he penned his thoughts about the event. “My spirit and ambition are as great as ever, and I long to carry on the work until I lay down my knife for the last time and leave behind a piece of work that will be admired by all the world.” The carvings continued until a stroke stopped the artist in 1971 and he left one work unfinished. Ernest "Mooney" Warther died in 1973, at the age of 87.
