Orville Schoolhouse

 

Plant life has taken over the schoolhouse

 Near my home in Orville, KY, stands (somewhat) this abandoned, one-room schoolhouse. The schoolhouse has long since been vacated, and the exposure to the elements has proven to be too much for this old structure to handle. Many of the older population in the area remember attending school here, and especially Ms. Lila (Delilah Douthitt). Ms. Lila is reported to be the youngest teacher ever in the public school system in the commonwealth of Kentucky at the age of 17 years. She is now 85, and a wonderful woman to have a conversation with.

The schoolhouse now rests as the plant life slowly reclaims the structure. In this small field, a nearby cattle farmer stores hay rolls around the schoolhouse. In order to get to the interior of the schoolhouse, I had to climb and walk over the hay rolls, then climb down into the front entrance.

Before the county school system centralized the education countywide, the one-room schoolhouse was the most effective and efficient way of educating the children in the area. Nowadays each household owns at least one automobile, and bus fleets have become an expectation for school districts across the nation. However, not long ago, children walked to the nearest one-room schoolhouse to learn the three R's. 

This structure now suffers from decades of neglect. The wood is rotten, including the hardwood floors. The support beams have given way, and it is simply a matter of time before the entire structure collapses.

The roof is only partially collapses in the main room of the schoolhouse. This once "one-room" schoolhouse looks to have had walls placed in after original construction to have a small entrance room followed by a large front room and a small room in the rear of the building. Broken glass, splintered wood, and parts to the roof line the rotting hardwood floors. It is unclear what this small room was used for.

The rear door has an appearance to experience, which I think is best conveyed in black and white. It tells a story of what went on in this building, the people that learned to read here, the passed era which seems to have been forgotten in my generation. A time when communities were closer, work was harder, and families honored God's divine providence. This door opens to the rear of the structure.

In the rear of the building, I see clearly how far the structure is leaning and near total collapse. Trees that have grown larger since the schoolhouse's abandonment act as support beams for the walls, temporarily delaying the inevitable. Although the distortion from the ultra-wide angle lens adds a bit of extreme appearance of leaning, I assure you that this building is about to be captured by God's living nature.

The photo on the right is of the interior door just passed the small foyer on the front of the structure. You cannot walk through this door any longer. The roof has crashed through the glass of the door, and the collapse of the eastern wall has dragged the door back toward the rear.

The photo to the left is of the large, front room where school was likely held. This is the largest room in the structure by far, and even had a brick chimney, which if you look on the far wall in the center of the photo you may see the remnant of that chimney. The brick has since collapsed and has fallen through the rotten hardwood floors. On the right of the photograph, you can see an electric plug. There is evidence of electric light on the collapsed ceiling as well.

Vines and trees claim the exterior, southern wall. Some glass remains on this window. This wall has a deceiving appearance, but the rear and front of this wall is supported by trees. Without the trees, this wall would collapse.

The debris and soil build-up on some areas of the floor tells a story of a losing battle from a fierce war between human structure and nature. Buildings constructed by human hands has a beginning, and without constant maintenance, has an end. What is maintenance but the battle raging on? What is neglect but God's living nature winning the battle? People and the work of their hands come and go, but God is eternal.

Gestville - Hotel

General store section of the building

 After several photo trips to Gestville, I have compiled a few after gaining access to a large, old building alongside the Kentucky River's Lock Number 3. This old building is recalled by many locals as the Gestville General Store.
Much time has passed since it had been occupied by store owners, and rented out as low income housing for a while. Nearly every room has an iron fireplace mantel, and the structure appears to be late 19th Century, which would be all indicative of this building having once been a hotel.

Note the ashtray

Drennon Springs is the next stop past the locks, where many wealthy people in the late 19th Century stayed for the reputation that the sulphur springs healed various diseases. This leaves Gestville to be a place where river boatmen were to stay the night. The locals tell of two different taverns in town, one directly across the street from the hotel. The dam and lock are no longer in use, but was active in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. All evidence indicates that this was a river boatman's hotel.
The interior looks worn out, yet much of the railing and floors look to be hand made and from local trees. Locals tell of their parents and grandparents ordering supplies from downstream towns such as Frankfort. I can imagine luxury furniture and beds in each room.
It seems that decades of abuse and many years of neglect has left this onetime gem a rotting shell. Its former glory now rests with chairs sitting in lonely, dark rooms next to empty beer cans and even an ashtray mounted in a wall. Water damage has buckled the walls and warped the hardwood floors.
An upcoming article on the history of Gestville, KY, is on its way. Much of what was planned for this town likely called for such a large hotel in the center. Until then, here are some teasers: Gestville was zoned and planned to be another thriving river city like Cincinnati and Louisville along the Ohio; a combination of a crippling cholera outbreak and the rise of the locomotion were likely culprits to the exodus of Gestville; of the at least three churches in Gestville, only one of those congregations exist today.

As many of you guys know, I am not a big fan of PhotoShop. However, I had some fun with one of my photographs making it appear old and worn.

PhotoShop made this photo fun.

Abandoned Methodist Church in Gestville

A while ago, I crawled into this abandoned church in Gestville, KY. I am fond of abandoned structures, yet most partial to photographing abandoned churches. This perhaps is the original Catholic church built in the early 20th Century, and later utilized by Methodists when the Catholics abandoned the structure. As far as locals recall, this building housed Gestville Methodist Church.

View from near the entrance of the building

Gestville Methodist apparently thrived during the course of the middle 20th Century, but the aging congregation dwindled in numbers until only three regular attendees continued to show up and eventually the structure was abandoned. In the photograph to the right, the desolate pulpit bids farewell to the setting sun as the piano and stove rests in the shadows by the stage.

The church piano rests quietly

The stagnant air and muffled sounds of nature filtering through the walls gives a sense of isolation. There is an odor of aged hardwood and a mixture of dust and dirt from a long human absence. Only a few items remain in the building. An old piano (which does not play) sits lonely in a diagonal position near the stage. A few bookshelves containing some hymnals and random papers sits quietly toward the entrance doors. The pews have been removed and refurnished for Grub Ridge Church.

The stage is littered with broken glass and the letters and numbers used for church attendance and hymn boards. Only the padding from beneath the carpet remains from where the center aisle once led people to the stage. The building is hollow, silent, and at rest. No longer are these walls echoing the sounds of singing. No longer are these walls echoing the sounds of preaching. There is a deathly silence.

What force drives a church structure to become abandoned? What disease grows until the life inside such buildings breathe their last breath, turning the voices from shouts to whispers to silence? Standing on the stage where the pulpit once stood and viewing out to where the pews once rested a full congregation, it becomes clear that silence does not speak. Silence does not echo. Silence is not living. Silence is the absence of life, the absence of speaking. Death is silent. This building is silent.