It is exciting to make a new acquaintance. Facts about that new person spill out into the air. You discover little things about them that add depth to a character you thought would be fairly simple. Familiarity expands into a kind of friendship. The new friend’s life story unfolds—complete with jagged detours that wouldn’t make any sense in a fictional world. After all, not every part of a life adds up to some element of a larger picture. Some things just happen. That’s life in reality.
I have found a lot of joy in learning about historical figures in the last few years. I meet them in a mental coffee shop of my own imagining. We begin with names, basic biographical information and then dive into the somewhat deeper pools of conversation. Why did they decide to run away from home? What was the inspiration behind the first thing they invented? How did they want people to think of them?
It’s a one-sided conversation, but that’s much more interesting. Though I know the ending to each of their stories, there are always a few twists along the way. Each character shifts from being a name on the page—or more typically, screen—to a person who was living the life set before them. No longer sepia-toned, they live in full color within my mind’s eye. Over the past month, I have had the pleasure of getting to know a local industrialist who left a definite mark upon the greater Akron area. Ohio Columbus Barber was a gale force in a gusty time. He came onto the scene, towering over his contemporaries, and made sure he wouldn’t be forgotten. However, when I first stumbled across his name, many of the people I mentioned it to didn’t recognize it. Not until I told them his namesake and greatest legacy did they make the connection. O.C. Barber took his name, his industry and his vast workforce and moved them south to his own city—Barberton.
Driving around Barberton, I found little clues everywhere. It was like going on a scavenger hunt for remnants of a man that, at one time, was the driving force behind the entire community. A small metal sign welcoming me into the city limits sports his full name; Lake Anna honors his only child; initials etched in stone brand buildings that were once part of his expansive farm. Much of what was once Barber’s exquisite mansion and surrounding Anna Dean Farm is now gone. Only a handful of the farm buildings remain. Looking at them out of my car window on the chilly day I was in Barberton, I chuckled at how very different they are from the barns of my own childhood. These aren’t simple wood and metal structures—they are beautifully designed brick and stone buildings that were meant to house the finest of agricultural innovation. And I must say, they are huge. Walking up to one barn, I could hardly imagine what it must have been like in Barber’s lifetime. The barn wasn’t just a barn—it was supersized. In a way, Barber was also a supersized individual.
Our story of O.C. Barber is merely a snapshot of the man. It is like one of those first conversations with a new friend in a coffee shop. If you find you want to learn more after reading the article, I hope you dive into the details of his life. This is also the first of several history pieces we plan to incorporate in the magazine this year. The 330 is rich in characters, and we hope to tell a few of their stories. Join us in telling The 330’s greatest stories by sharing your suggestions.
