There have been three iterations of Union Station and all three served railroad passengers, from regular people to presidents, in Columbus from 1851 until 1977.

The first station building, built in 1851, was the first union station in the world. The second was built from 1873-1875 and it became apparent quickly that the station wouldn’t be large enough for long, due to the boom in both rail and street traffic along High Street.

By 1891, the traffic situation on High Street reached a breaking point. It was reported that the roadway was blocked for up to seven hours per day due to crossing trains, and the city decided to throw support behind a modern, grand station.

So in 1893, a new station was planned by Daniel Burnham. This third station is the one that we all recognize instantly. The station was opened in 1897 and by 1899, the iconic arcade was complete. The arcade was unique to Columbus and was sort of the mixed-use building of its time, with stores and offices built atop the viaduct.

Although it had been placed on the National Register of Historic Places, the arcade was demolished in 1976 to make way for a new convention center.

In 1977, the passenger rail service at Union Station stopped and by 1979, the rest of the station had been demolished. By the time the station closed, daily passenger trains had fallen just 10 per day. The completion of interstates and the increasing popularity of cars were the final nails in the coffin of Union Station.

Of course, a portion of the arcade still exists in Columbus today. It is the magnificent focal piece of McPherson Commons, just across from Nationwide Arena.

As we look at more and more buildings lost to time here in Columbus, I can’t help but wonder when it will stop. As more and more historic buildings are demolished, we lose a vital part of our city’s history.

Every year, the Columbus Landmarks Foundation accepts nominations for the Most Endangered Buildings List. Buildings on this list get exposure, which generates awareness and opportunity. If you have a building in mind, you can submit it to the Columbus Landmarks Foundation here.

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The Sells Family Origins

Our story begins with Ludwig Sells, a German immigrant who settled his family in Ohio in 1801. Ludwig’s grandsons, Ephraim, Allen, Lewis, and Peter, would later become the masterminds behind the Sells Brothers Circus. After serving in the American Civil War, the brothers found themselves in the auction business, where they often followed circus troupes to take advantage of the large crowds.

The Birth of the Sells Brothers Circus

Growing the Show

Sellsville: The Circus Headquarters

The Wild West Show and International Adventures

The Circus at Its Peak

The Final Curtain

Columbus’s Circus Legacy

The post Columbus Was Once The Circus Capital Of The Midwest appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

The house was built by Dr. Francis Carter in 1842. At the time, Columbus was experiencing a population boom. Industries were growing and Columbus was becoming better connected to the rest of the state through railroads and telegraph lines.

Carter was a professor at Starling Medical College and he built the home as a wedding present for his wife, Belle Espy. It was a grand home but the Carters didn’t live there long.

By 1857, Governor Salmon P. Chase had purchased the home. He resided there from 1858-1859 where the home had the honor to serve as the Governor’s Mansion.

Prior to serving as Governor, Chase had a law firm in Cincinnati where he was a vocal protester of slavery and frequently defended enslaved people who had escaped. In 1860, Chase attempted to run for president, but the Republican National Convention chose Abraham Lincoln instead.

After that, the mansion became home to Charles H. Hayden, the Secretary and Treasurer of P. Hayden Saddlery Hardware Company. In 1910, the home was sold for the last time to the Knights of Columbus.

The Hayden Homestead, like so many homes from the late 19th century, has since been torn down. It stood at 80 S 6th Street in the Discovery District.

If the historic homes and buildings of Columbus are of interest to you, I highly suggest that you check out A Historical Guidebook to Old Columbus: Finding the Past in the Present in Ohio’s Capital City. This fantastic book takes a look at our city through a historic lens and if you’re anything like me, you won’t be able to put it down.

Additionally, the Columbus Metropolitan Library is an invaluable resource when researching local history.

The post Lost Mansions Of Columbus: The Hayden Homestead appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

Built in 1872, Columbus’s old City Hall was dramatic in every sense: towering stone archways, soaring ceilings, a library, a post office, a massive public hall that could fit thousands of people. It even helped launch the United Mine Workers of America in 1890.

But for all its ambition, the building wasn’t exactly beloved. Over the years, it earned nicknames like a “Gothic nightmare” and an “eyesore.”

And by the 1920s, it wasn’t just outdated. It was doomed.

On a cold January night in 1921, while a city council meeting and a basketball practice were happening inside (because of course that’s how this goes), a fire broke out. It spread fast. Sixteen engine companies rushed in, but it was too late: the roof collapsed, the upper floors turned into a mountain of debris, and Columbus’s original City Hall was history.

Miraculously, no one was hurt. Reporter James Thurber (yes, that James Thurber) was covering the city council meeting when the fire started. As he and everyone else fled, crowds gathered on the Statehouse lawn to watch it burn. Strangely enough, most people weren’t sad about it. If anything, it was kind of a relief. Even city officials were reportedly happy to say “good riddance” to the building.

It also wasn’t insured. And as if losing a whole city hall wasn’t enough, key historical documents burned with it, including early records for places like the Franklin Park Conservatory.

To top it off, it was the third major public building to catch fire in just a few months, after the city prison and part of the state hospital.

In the aftermath, leaders decided not to rebuild on the site.

Instead, they moved operations to a temporary space — and eventually to the Civic Center riverfront where City Hall stands today.

The site where the old City Hall once loomed? It’s now home to the Ohio Theatre. (Yep, the one with the sparkling chandeliers and the gorgeous marquee.)

The post Columbus Had A Gorgeous (And Kind Of Cursed) City Hall appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

From immigrant enclaves to jazz meccas, here’s how the city’s oldest neighborhoods tell the story of Columbus’s evolution, one brick at a time.

Flytown

Flytown isn’t a name you’ll find on a modern map, but in the late 1800s, this working-class neighborhood northwest of downtown was one of Columbus’s most diverse and bustling areas. It earned its name from the wooden homes that seemed to “fly up overnight” to house the influx of Irish, Welsh, and German immigrants working in nearby factories.

Centered around what is now the Arena District and Victorian Village, Flytown later became home to Italian and Eastern European families, and eventually to Black residents migrating north during the Great Migration. The Godman Guild, established in 1898, became a pillar of community life, offering education, recreation, and support services.

But by the mid-20th century, Flytown faced the same fate as many historically marginalized neighborhoods: erased by urban renewal. The construction of I-670 displaced hundreds of residents, and the neighborhood was slowly absorbed into the surrounding areas. Today, very few physical remnants remain, but its legacy lives on in the cultural fabric of Columbus.

Franklinton

Before Columbus was Columbus, there was Franklinton. Founded in 1797 by surveyor Lucas Sullivant, this area was the first non-Indigenous settlement in Central Ohio. It was even considered as a potential site for Ohio’s state capital before the honor was given to a site across the Scioto River.

Franklinton has always been a neighborhood of resilience. It faced near-destruction in the 1913 flood and spent much of the 20th century in economic decline. But in recent years, artists, developers, and longtime residents have worked together to breathe new life into the area. Galleries, community spaces, and innovative housing projects are helping Franklinton reclaim its role as a cornerstone of the city.

King-Lincoln Bronzeville

East of downtown, King-Lincoln Bronzeville was once the epicenter of Black culture and business in Columbus. In the early 1900s, the neighborhood was home to thriving jazz clubs, Black-owned banks, and prominent figures in medicine, law, and the arts.

The Lincoln Theatre, recently restored to its original Art Deco glory, hosted musical legends like Duke Ellington and Count Basie. But like Flytown, King-Lincoln Bronzeville was deeply impacted by mid-century urban renewal. Whole blocks were razed, and community institutions were lost. Over the years, even more cultural landmarks, like the Vernon Theatre, were torn down.

Still, the neighborhood remains a cultural landmark. Ongoing revitalization efforts aim to honor its rich heritage, restore its infrastructure, and ensure that longtime residents can be part of its future.

Clintonville

Now one of the most beloved residential neighborhoods in Columbus, Clintonville actually began as a getaway destination. In the mid-1800s, it was dotted with summer homes and religious campgrounds for families escaping the bustle of downtown.

With the arrival of the Columbus streetcar system in the early 1900s, Clintonville transformed into a full-fledged suburb. Its development boomed during the early 20th century, and many of the charming craftsman-style homes from that era still stand today.

Landmarks like Whetstone Park of Roses give the neighborhood its identity, but so do the local businesses and civic pride. Clintonville has always marched to the beat of its own drum, and that independent spirit is part of what makes it feel like its own little village within the city.

Olde Towne East

If you want to see a neighborhood that captures every era of Columbus architecture, head to Olde Towne East. Located just east of downtown, this neighborhood was once home to some of the city’s wealthiest residents—and it shows in the eclectic mix of Victorian, Queen Anne, and Colonial Revival homes.

After decades of decline in the mid-20th century, Olde Towne East has rebounded as a hub for artists, renovators, and urban pioneers. It’s a place where a 19th-century mansion might sit next to a community garden, and where the city’s history is visible block by block.

German Village

German Village is arguably the crown jewel of Columbus’s historic neighborhoods. Developed in the mid-1800s by German immigrants, the neighborhood thrived with businesses, breweries, and churches. Its tidy brick homes and cobblestone streets made it a picture of prosperity—until the anti-German sentiment of World War I and subsequent economic decline led to disrepair.

But here’s where German Village stands out: the community fought back. In the 1960s, residents organized to preserve the neighborhood’s architectural integrity, leading to a successful grassroots preservation movement. Today, it’s a model of how neighborhoods can honor the past while embracing the present, and it’s one of the most desirable places to live in the city.

Why These Stories Matter

It’s easy to think of cities in terms of skylines and new developments, but the real stories are in the neighborhoods, especially the ones with deep roots. By learning about Flytown, Franklinton, German Village, King-Lincoln Bronzeville, and Olde Towne East, we understand not just where Columbus has been, but where it’s going—and who helped build it along the way.

The post These Historic Neighborhoods In Columbus Tell The City’s Real Story appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

From the earliest moments of Columbus, influential residents were building homes that the community admired. But not all of these incredible buildings have managed to survive into 2021. Buildings in Columbus get torn down for all sorts of reasons, and the large, impressive homes of yesteryear are no exception.

Lucas Sullivant founded the village of Franklinton in 1797, which he named in honor of the recently deceased Benjamin Franklin. Sullivant was an Irish surveyor and one of four original proprietors of Columbus. He campaigned to bring the capital to the Columbus area.

In 1801, he built the first brick house in the area for himself and his wife, Sarah near present-day 700 W. Broad Street. His original house had two rooms on the first floor and two on the second, connected by a beautiful walnut stairway that was said to have been brought in from Philadelphia.

His wife died in 1814 after contracting typhus while she was taking care of sick and wounded soldiers encamped in Franklinton during the War of 1812. Lucas died in 1823 and after his death, his sons expanded the home and lived there until 1854.

After the Sullivant family left the property, the Order of the Good Shepherd bought the large home to use as a convent. The building remained on the south side of Broad Street until it was razed to the ground in 1964 to be replaced by a car dealership.

Before the iconic home was demolished, the massive front door was donated to COSI by Mrs. George T. Johnson, the great-great-granddaughter of Lucas Sullivant. The door opened into a recreation of the Sullivant home in the Yesteryear exhibit at the original COSI, keeping the spirit of this innovative founder of Columbus alive.

Lucas Sullivant was originally buried at the Old Franklinton Cemetery when he died in 1823. He was later reburied at Green Lawn Cemetery, alongside many other prominent early Columbusites.

If the historic homes and buildings of Columbus are of interest to you, I highly suggest that you check out A Historical Guidebook to Old Columbus: Finding the Past in the Present in Ohio’s Capital City. This fantastic book takes a look at our city through a historic lens and if you’re anything like me, you won’t be able to put it down.

The post Lost Mansions Of Columbus: The Lucas Sullivant Home appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

The cheers, the cheap hot dogs, the crack of a bat echoing through Franklinton—it was the kind of place that didn’t need to be flashy to be beloved. It just was.

Cooper Stadium had a long, winding life before it became the aging ballpark we remember.

Built way back in 1931, it was originally called Red Bird Stadium and modeled after Red Wing Stadium in Rochester (the Cardinals owned both teams at the time—clearly into the copy-paste method).

Over the decades, it changed names like a minor league chameleon: Red Bird, Jets, Franklin County Stadium, and finally Cooper Stadium in 1984, in honor of Harold M. Cooper—the guy who basically said, “Columbus needs baseball,” and then made it happen.

The stadium had a run like few others.

It hosted everything from Yankees exhibition games (with record crowds!) to high school state tournaments. And it wasn’t just baseball. We’re talking wrestling matches with Bobo Brazil and The Sheik, roller derbies, concerts with legends like Bob Dylan and Garth Brooks, and even a giant human American flag formed during Desert Storm.

But for most of us, Cooper Stadium was the Clippers.

The Clippers packed up and moved to Huntington Park in 2009

The final game? A bittersweet sendoff in front of over 16,000 fans on September 1, 2008. We cried. We clapped. We probably ate too many peanuts. It was perfect.

As for the stadium itself, it didn’t get the retirement it deserved.

Thankfully, we can still enjoy Dime-a-Dog night at Huntington Park and cheer on the Clippers whilst ringing our bells.

The post Columbus’ Abandoned Ballpark: The Rise and Fall of Cooper Stadium appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

The original courthouse, constructed in 1840 for a sum of $40,000, was more than just a place for legal proceedings. It harbored a county jail in its basement and a sheriff’s residence on the first floor, merging the spheres of justice and domestic life under one roof.

However, this multipurpose edifice was not destined to last; it met its demise on April 13, 1884, making way for progress and architectural innovation.

As the courthouse was “In Process of Being Torn Away,” a phrase poignantly captured in the photo below by Baker’s Art Gallery in 1884, Columbus was on the brink of welcoming a new era of justice.

The cornerstone of the subsequent Franklin County Courthouse was laid with pomp and circumstance on July 4, 1885, heralding the dawn of a new chapter. This building, dedicated on July 13, 1887, under the watchful eye of George Bellows, Sr., the superintendent of construction, was a testament to the city’s aspirations and architectural ambitions.

A Monument to Justice and Its Pitfalls

The new courthouse, costing about a half-million dollars, was an architectural masterpiece clad in gray sandstone with polished granite columns guarding its entrances.

Its clock tower, rising majestically above the cityscape, was not just a timekeeper but a symbol of the enduring presence of justice. However, this grandeur was not immune to the ravages of time. The roofs, perhaps in a poetic nod to the leaks and lapses in the justice system itself, began to betray the building, leading to its eventual razing in 1974.

Adjacent to this monument of justice stood a modern stone fire-proof jail, facing Fulton street. This juxtaposition of the courthouse and the jail served as a tangible representation of the thin line between freedom and incarceration, watched over by the silent sentinel of the clock tower.

The Courthouse Today

The demolition of the 1887 courthouse paved the way for a modern reinterpretation of justice’s home. The Franklin County Courthouse complex, as captured aerially circa 1979 by David Lucas, showcases a sprawling expanse of justice administration, from the Hall of Justice to the Municipal Court and the County Jail.

This modern complex stands as a testament to the evolution of civic architecture, marrying functionality with the solemn dignity befitting its role in society.

The courthouse, once surrounded by electric arches and neighboring Lang Schenck Liquors, now finds itself in the company of parking garages and administration buildings, reflecting the changing landscape of downtown Columbus.

The post Lost History Of Columbus: The Old Franklin County Courthouse(s) appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

Before Amazon and Easton and same-day shipping, Columbus shoppers made their way downtown, where Lazarus reigned supreme. The department store wasn’t just a place to grab a new coat or the latest toy—it was the place to be. From humble beginnings to becoming a retail giant with deep ties to the city’s culture, Lazarus helped shape the way generations of Columbus residents experienced everything from back-to-school shopping to the magic of the holidays.

From Dry Goods to Downtown Empire

Lazarus started small. Founded in 1851 by Simon Lazarus, a German immigrant, the store began as a men’s clothing shop on South High Street. It was a true family business, later expanding under the leadership of Simon’s sons, Fred and Ralph Lazarus. What started as a single storefront eventually became a multi-floor shopping destination that anchored the city’s downtown.

By the early 20th century, Lazarus was innovating the retail game. They were one of the first stores to allow customers to return items, a total game-changer at the time. Their philosophy of customer-first service made them a trusted name not just in Columbus, but throughout the Midwest.

And it wasn’t just clothes and household goods. Lazarus became known for its incredible window displays, fashion shows, in-house restaurants, and escalators that felt like a ride in and of themselves when you were a kid.

The Holiday Season, But Make It Magical

If you grew up in Columbus, you probably have some kind of core memory that involves Christmas at Lazarus. For decades, the downtown location was the beating heart of the holiday season. The store was famous for its elaborate holiday window displays—designed in-house and rotated annually—and for turning the whole city block into a winter wonderland.

But nothing captured the imagination quite like the Lazarus Talking Tree. Installed outside the store’s entrance during the holidays, the tree blinked, wiggled, and—yep—talked to kids. For many, visiting the tree was just as important as visiting Santa. It was a tradition, an event, and a rite of passage all in one.

Inside, the upper floors transformed into SantaLand, a North Pole-adjacent setup complete with toy trains, twinkling lights, and the big man himself. Families came downtown for the full experience: window displays, the talking tree, shopping, lunch at the Chintz Room, and a sit-down with Santa.

For me, it wasn’t just about the holidays. Lazarus was where I spent some of my favorite afternoons as a kid, riding the COTA bus downtown with my Great Aunt. We’d explore the store together, sometimes do a little shopping, sometimes head straight for lunch in the restaurant upstairs. It felt like a little adventure every time, and looking back, those moments feel even more magical than the talking tree.

READ MORE: Lazarus’ Santaland Was The Most Magical Christmas Destination In Columbus

The Beginning of the End

Even as shopping malls popped up in the suburbs, Lazarus held strong. The company expanded regionally and merged with other retail giants under the Federated Department Stores umbrella, which also included names like Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s. In fact, Lazarus played a big role in shaping the modern retail landscape—Fred Lazarus Jr. was instrumental in creating Black Friday as we know it, lobbying for Thanksgiving to be moved up to extend the holiday shopping season.

But by the late 1990s and early 2000s, downtown shopping had begun to decline. The Columbus store, once the largest in the region, shrank floor by floor. In 2005, the name “Lazarus” was officially retired as part of a nationwide rebranding that brought all Federated stores under the Macy’s name. And in 2007, after 156 years, the downtown Columbus store closed its doors for good.

A Legacy That Still Lingers

The Lazarus building still stands at 50 W. Town Street, now home to offices, apartments, and a few retail spaces. It’s been beautifully renovated, but longtime Columbus residents will always see it as the department store. The city’s holiday traditions are still infused with Lazarus nostalgia, and every December, stories of the Talking Tree and the Chintz Room resurface on social media like clockwork.

READ MORE: The Old Lazarus Building Has A (Sort Of) Secret Rooftop Garden

There’s something deeply comforting about those memories: catching the bus downtown, bundling up for a cold walk along High Street, stepping inside that warm, bustling store filled with the smell of perfume and popcorn. Lazarus wasn’t just a store—it was an experience. A generational touchstone. A big part of what made Columbus feel like home.

The post Lost History of Columbus: Lazarus Was The Department Store That Defined Downtown appeared first on Columbus Navigator.

The Storm Before the Flood

Spring came to Columbus after a winter of heavy snow, and what followed was a mix of rainfall that the city wasn’t prepared for. On March 24, more than five inches of rain poured down in just a few hours, saturating the ground and sending the Scioto River over its banks. The city’s levees, which were supposed to protect Columbus from flooding, couldn’t hold up to the massive amount of water.

The Impact of the Flood

As the floodwaters rose, neighborhoods like Franklinton, which sat low along the river, were hit hardest. Homes were submerged, businesses were destroyed, and residents faced overwhelming challenges. The flood’s devastation forced the city to reckon with the power of nature in a way it never had before.

Ed Lentz, a local historian, called the flood “the worst catastrophe in the history of Columbus,” and for good reason. What started as a regular March day turned into an event that left lasting scars on the city.

Community Heroes

While the flood was a tragedy, it also highlighted the strength of the Columbus community. Robert F. Wolfe, the publisher of the Columbus Dispatch, helped coordinate rescue efforts, using boats from Buckeye Lake to save residents trapped by the rising water. Volunteers, local officials, and the National Guard all worked together to keep people safe during the worst of it.

Rebuilding After the Waters Receded

Once the floodwaters receded, the city was left with a major cleanup job. But rather than dwell on the devastation, Columbus focused on rebuilding. One of the lasting results of the flood was the construction of a 7.2-mile floodwall, finished in 2004, to protect the city from future floods.

The flood also led to a reevaluation of the city’s infrastructure, with an increased focus on flood management and planning. It served as a turning point, not just for disaster preparedness, but also for how the city would approach urban development and environmental challenges in the years that followed.

The Lasting Legacy

Even though the flood happened over a century ago, its legacy is still visible in Columbus today. From the flood walls to the city’s ongoing flood management projects, the 1913 flood is part of the story of how Columbus learned to better protect itself from the forces of nature.

The post The Great Flood Of 1913 Remains Columbus’s Deadliest Weather Disaster appeared first on Columbus Navigator.