Rittman Historical Society

Name: Rittman Historical Society
Address: 28 Gish Road PO Box 583, Rittman, OH, 44270, US
Telephone: +13309030332

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Rittman Historical Society

The Rittman Historical Society exists to preserve and share the history and heritage of Rittman Ohio and the surrounding area. Please contact us for details.

The Rittman Historical Society is a 501c3 nonprofit organization that exists to preserve and share the history and heritage of Rittman Ohio and the surrounding area. We are available to come to your group or club's meeting or event to give a presentation or lead a discussion on many aspects of Rittman's history. We welcome inquiries from anyone interested in the area, including from those performi

ng academic and genealogical research. Our Pioneer House Museum is located at 28 Gish Road in Rittman Ohio. The society also maintains the historic Knupp Church, founded in 1817, on Kunkler Drive just to the north of the cemetery on Decourcey Street. In addition to various open houses and events throughout the year, both properties are available for guided tours at your convenience, for individuals and groups. Please call or message us to arrange a tour. Historic Knupp Church is also available for special event rentals, and makes a picture-perfect wedding site.

05/28/2026

As we look out the window today, we’re excited to see yet another day of magnificent sunshine illuminating the green and soon to be hugged in yellow pollen pre-summer canvas.

Typically, here in small town Ohio, the Memorial Day weekend offers not only the opportunity to celebrate and remember those who gave their all while wearing the uniform of these United States.

It also is traditionally the “first” weekend of gardening season.

While some flowers bid their time this spring popping to the surface to enjoy the rays of that glowing orange ball of life, the veggies and more sensitive plants need warmer soil to grow to their magnificence.

The garden, as we were reminded in this article from the 1963 Rittman Press, is not just a means of sustenance.

Many of us gain mental clarity and bodily refreshment from the cathartic release of turning soil to plant yet another season of green that we can’t wait to harvest into a wonderful bounty of fruits and vegetables.

Our lower backs and legs may not always agree, but even in the 1960’s we were a town who cared about our people-and warned of the “dangers” that accompany this therapeutic hobby of bringing things to life.

We’re reminded of the sting of the bee, the need for tetanus inoculations, and of course the toll gardening offers to muscles that might have still been flabby from that winter hibernation.

Spring and summer are running behind in this year, but the greenery about town and smiles and whistles that accompany the official welcome to the gardening season are filling our heart and, hopefully soon, our tummies with the promise of organic foods that bring back childhood giggles and remind us of the value of living in this small town.

We hope that you got your garden in these past few days or that you will this coming weekend.

If you’ve decided to forgo the planting and weeding necessary to produce yummy veggies or you simply don’t have the right space, rest assured that our local farmers are here to save the day offering natures best foods just in time to enjoy as we pull the covers away from winter and find our minds dancing in this summer sun.

Take a read of this article reminding you just how important garden safety is.

It’s refreshing to know that even though many things in life have changed as technology and modernization solves difficult tasks, we’re glad digging in the dirt is still an option to clear our minds and fertilize our happy souls.

Happy pre-summer to you all!

05/23/2026

Join us 5/25/26 for history in the making as the Rittman Memorial Day Parade.

Starting time is 10:30 on Erie Street!

05/21/2026

We found ourselves out and about this week, and couldn’t help but feel a sense of glowing pride accompanied by the largest grin we could muster.

Driving through the familiar streets of this little town, we were taken aback by the beauty of the 250 American Flags we’ve seen decorating each thoroughfare.

We, of course, tip our hats to the hardworking citizens & the Howard A. Bair Post 423 American Legion for the patriotic flavor they’ve once again bestowed on this small town with a big heart.

Yes, the flags are meant to celebrate the 250th birthday of this nation we call home, but the timing of the decorative flags are not lost as we approach what we often refer to as the official start of summer.

Memorial Day will soon be here, and with it we hope to enjoy the sound of giggles brought by small children who are completing their studies alongside our welcoming of the warmth and regeneration made possible only by the return of our friend known as the summer sunshine.

Today, we look at chilly grey skies, but we know brighter days are ahead.

The Rittman Press, then in its forty-first year of publication, touted the headline “Lest We Forget” on the front page of the May 28, 1953 edition.

Memorial Day in that year, included a parade, guest speakers and of course wreathes decorating the graves of those who gave their last full measure. It was celebrated on Sunday May 30th, as it had yet to become a federal holiday.

Memorial Day, or as it was earlier called “Decoration Day” began as a hope for repair way back in 1865 as the cannons and guns echoed their final shots of the American Civil War.

While Lee surrounded to Grant in April of that year, the war torn citizens of this soon to be reunited nation, pushed forward with relief in their eyes and sadness in their hearts.

Rituals take time, and it would be May 30, 1868 before the first then called “Decoration Day” made it’s way into small towns across the nation.

In 1967, Decoration Day became simply known as Memorial Day.

This holiday, not to be confused with Veterans Day which honors all who served and are serving, instead became the day to celebrate those who lost their lives in defense of this great nation, and would become even more profound as we marked the end of WWI.

In 1971, the U.S. Government created an “official” holiday that would be celebrated on the last Monday of May.

Today, on the surface, we’re likely grateful for the possibility of a day off work or the opportunity to celebrate with friends or family a picnic or some wonderfully grilled food.

But here in the Small Town with the Big Heart, we know that this weekend means something more, and we cannot help but be reminded as we look around at the red, white, and blue flags as they stand watch over each and every one of us.

This patriotic display reminds our hearts that it isn’t the wind alone that creates fluid motion, as we subscribe to the belief that the flutter of the flag is brought to us through the last breath of each solider who gave their lives defending it and this wonderful place that we call home.

05/09/2026

Tuesday June 23-join Van Young at the Rittman Public Library for a fascinating conversation about Put in Bay as a part of the Civil War Series.

Sign up at wcpl.com to save your spot today!

05/07/2026

Today we zoom in our horseless carriages to and fro, and even though right now we are suffering the shock of high gasoline prices, we think nothing about hopping in our cars and driving to Wooster for even the smallest of reasons.

Thinking about the early days of our little town, the horse, and more often, foot travel was how folks got from point a to point b.

The walk to Wooster from Rittman was about a 6-7 hour journey. Of course today, we have improved roadways and cleared land, but in the toddler years of this tiny town-we can only imagine how vast the forest was, with small rutted paths that took you from here to Doylestown or in this case, Wooster.

School books told us that back in the early 1800’s the U.S. Government offered tracts of land to those who fought for our independence. In fact, if one takes the time to review old land grants and deeds, you might be surprised to see signatures of presidents whose names we now only read about in history books.

Just recently, while looking into the origins of land near present-day Hatfield Road, we came across one such document, that seemed almost incredible to our eyes. It was a federal land patent issued to early pioneer William Hatfield, all the way back in 1829. The parchment tells a simple story, written in careful script: eighty acres, described as the west half of the northeast quarter of Section 18, in what we now know as Chippewa Township.

Eighty acres may not sound like much today, but at the time it represented opportunity, survival, and the beginning of something lasting. Under the Land Act of 1820, this land was purchased at $1.25 per acre—meaning the entire tract cost just about one hundred dollars. A modest sum by today’s standards, but in 1829 it was a meaningful investment, likely representing years of saving, hard work, and hope for the future.

What makes this document even more remarkable is the name signed at the bottom.

Andrew Jackson

The patent is dated April 7, 1829, just weeks after Jackson took office as President of the United States. That timing alone makes it unusual.

Most land in this part of Ohio had already been transferred from federal hands decades earlier, often under earlier presidents. To find a patent here bearing Jackson’s name places the Hatfield tract in a narrow window of history, right at the beginning of a new presidency and near the closing chapter of federal land distribution in this region.

The Hatfield’s ancestral story tells us that he walked the miles to Wooster, only to get in line just ahead of another hopeful person who wanted that same tract of land. Hatfield was lucky, he secured the very last piece of rich ground left here in Chippewa Twp. Life wasn’t easy, even though the Hatfield family now owned this parcel of land, as they had squatters to evict and fields to clear as they took residence in the crude wooden cabin before building the home that would forever root their name to the town of Rittman, Ohio.

It’s one of those moments where history feels less distant.

To stand near that same ground today, under those same wide skies, and realize that nearly two centuries ago someone stood there with a newly issued patent in hand, knowing that those eighty acres were finally theirs… it changes the way you look at the land.

The roads may have new names. The fields may have been divided and replanted many times over. But the bones of that original survey still lie beneath it all, quietly holding the story of a family name that, for a time, was written directly onto the map.

And perhaps that’s the beauty of it.

Long before street signs and property lines as we know them today, there were simple descriptions, careful measurements, and signatures that carried the weight of a nation’s promise, turning wilderness into home, and names like Hatfield into part of the story we’re still telling.

You can visit these early Hatfields in Pioneer Cemetery, while names such as More, Franks, Huffman, Lance and more carry the DNA that started with long walk to Wooster by William and his beautiful bride Susannah Miller.

We have strong ties here in Rittman to the entire world, but who would have thought that deep in the vaults here of the Rittman Historical Society we would also run across a rare signature from Andrew Jackson, who’s pen secured 80 acres of wonderful farmland to one of the hardworking families that would make this town what it is today.

04/30/2026

Spring is such a wonderful word. It carries with it the smell of damp earth after a rain, the warmth of sun on your shoulders, and the feeling that even your steps have a little more bounce to them. Folks in our hometown notice it too! In fact, it’s to rare to pass a neighbor in IGA or on one of the many miles of sidewalks that serve as the foot highways of our town, and before you even see them, you hear a bit of whistling or a cheerful hum drifting through the air.

Back in the 1940s, when the days seemed simpler and the seasons meant just a little more, May Day was something people looked forward to. As remembered in the old Rittman Press from 1941, May Day was spoken of as “symbolic of Spring, Love, Laughter and Joy,” and it brought neighbors together in small but meaningful ways . Our ancestors would hang little May baskets filled with flowers on the doors of friends, sometimes knocking and running off before being seen, leaving only the surprise and the scent of blossoms behind.

And then there was the Maypole.

A maypole was a tall wooden pole set firmly in the ground, located here in town in a central place for all the neighborhood to see and adore.From its top hung long ribbons in bright colors, reds, blues, yellows, and greens, that fluttered in the spring breeze. We remember gathering around, each holding a ribbon, and as music played, while skipping and weaving in and out, circling the pole in opposite directions. More than one collision and giggling calamity ensued during this cheerful summer evoking event.With each step and turn, the ribbons would braid themselves into a beautiful pattern down the pole, like spring itself wrapping the world in vivid colors as a means of beckoning the warm and joyous weather.

We remember, or maybe it’s just the way it’s been told, how the wonderful smell of fresh cut grass, which was still a little damp under our feet, and how the air carried that mix of sunshine and cool breeze. The girls wore simple dresses that swayed as they moved, and the boys tried their best to keep step, laughing when they got tangled. There was no rush or urgency to it, just the steady rhythm of feet and the quiet joy of being together.

By the end of this event, the pole stood wrapped in ribbons, bright and proud, like a marker that winter had truly passed. And as folks drifted home, maybe with a flower tucked behind an ear or a basket left on a doorstep, there was a shared feeling, small but certain, that spring had finally come again, just as it had every May previous to our time here in this small town with a BIG heart.

Do you remember the Maypole and all the laughter that we shared??

04/23/2026

We sat at the light of E. Sunset and Main the other day, and our minds drifted back to the smells of permanents and the sounds of chatter over the smooth clicking of scissors.

Right there on East Sunset Avenue, across from the shopping center, stood a little shop that so many in Rittman knew by heart, it was called Mr. Don’s Beauty Salon.

It wasn’t just a place to get your hair done. It was where life’s moments quietly gathered.

Maybe you remember walking in just before the first day of school, perhaps nervous, excited, and probably growing up a little faster than you realized, while Mr. Don worked carefully, giving you that fresh start feeling.

Or maybe it was before prom. The anticipation, the laughter, the careful styling that made you feel like the night ahead would be unforgettable.

And for some, maybe it was even your wedding day. A morning filled with joy and a few butterflies, sitting in that familiar chair while everything came together just right.

Donald Kuchenmeister, or Mr. Don as we knew him, was known for his scissor cutting. That was his specialty. But what people really remember is how he made the shop feel. Friendly. Easy. Like you belonged the moment you walked in.

The light turned green and we made our way back towards home, but not without a huge smile on our face as we remembered yet another local business from the old days, Mr. Don’s Beauty Salon.

It made us wonder, so we have to ask…

Do you remember Mr. Don’s Beauty Salon?

The smells, the sounds, the feeling of sitting in that chair?

If you do, share your memories, we’d love to hear them.

04/16/2026

If you’ve ever walked into our local IGA, you’ve stepped into something much bigger than just a local grocery store.

The IGA “brand” began in 1926, when small, independent grocers banded together so they could survive in a world that was quickly being taken over by big chains. They shared buying power, advertising, and a name, but they stayed locally owned.

That meant each store kept its own personality, its own people, and its own place in the community.

And that’s exactly how it’s always been here in Rittman.

We’ve been lucky in our little town. Over the years, we’ve had many wonderful local markets and stores, places where folks knew your name, asked about your family, and maybe slipped an extra treat into the bag for the kiddies.

Our current IGA is part of that long story, but it’s just one small chapter.

One of those earlier chapters was the Stoolmiller IGA Market, located right here in what we used to call Public Square.

Back in the early 1900s, grocery stores weren’t just places you went, they were places that came to you. Delivery wasn’t some new idea dreamed up by apps and smartphones. Long before Instacart, local grocers, pharmacies, and hardware stores were loading up trucks (and even wagons) and bringing goods right to their customers’ doors. It was just part of doing business, and part of taking care of your neighbors.

But by 1942, the world had changed.

As the United States entered World War II, everyday life here at home felt the impact. Supplies like rubber and metal were scarce, often reserved for the war effort. Tires were hard to come by, and that affected even something as simple as grocery delivery.

As we thumbed through the Rittman Press dated January 8, 1942, we saw this really small ad, letting neighbors know that while they were still here to support us, Stoolmiller IGA, like so many others affected by the efforts on the front, needed to adjust to keep things going.

It seems that they could no longer get tires for their delivery cars. So instead of stopping deliveries altogether, they adjusted, cutting back to just two deliveries a day. Morning and afternoon. Doing what they could, with what they had.

It’s a small detail, but it says a lot.

It shows a time when businesses and communities adapted together. When store owners didn’t just serve customers, they worked alongside them through hard times. When even something as ordinary as a grocery run was shaped by what was happening across the ocean.

The Stoolmiller IGA was just one version of that story. One moment in time where a local store and a local community grew together, side by side.

And in many ways… we still do these very same things.

So the next time you stop into our IGA, remember, you’re not shopping a chain store, you’re keeping a small local business alive. You’re part of a long line of neighbors, storekeepers, and shared history that stretches back generations

And what could be more small town than that?

04/09/2026

On a quiet stretch of N. Main Street in Rittman, 88 N. Main to be precise, the doors of this local business not only gave us the heartbeat of this town and the world in its inky pages, but it also offered us many other services.

You see, The Rittman Press, was more than a newspaper office. It was a printing shop, a supply store, and a place where ideas took shape in ink and paper.

If you needed wedding invitations, business forms, or a fresh ribbon for your typewriter, you knew exactly where to go.

Right there on the counter, or pictured proudly in their ads, were machines like the Underwood Typewriter Company models.

We remember fondly the days of taking “Typing” classes in high school, and the click clack noises these now prehistoric machines made as we passed by the typing class door.

This brand of typewriters had already earned their reputation across the country. Founded in the late 1800s, Underwood became one of the most influential typewriter makers in the early 20th century.

Their designs helped standardize the modern keyboard layout and made typing faster and more reliable for offices, writers, and everyday folks alike. By the 1940s and 50s, an Underwood wasn’t just a machine, it was a tool of progress.

In those days, people didn’t carry tiny, powerful computers in their pockets. There were no cell phones buzzing with messages or emails arriving in seconds.

Our letters and homework were handwritten at the kitchen table, careful and personal. In fact, the older generation in the 1950’s grew up taking classes like penmanship, something that is a bygone art that simply does not exist in the here and now.

As typewriters and other machines made their way into businesses and homes, we started to walk away from the beauty of pen and paper. Business records were typed one line at a time, each keystroke leaving a permanent mark on paper.

Mistakes meant starting over, or at least reaching for correction fluid.

And that’s what made places like the Rittman Press so important.

They weren’t just selling products, they were helping people communicate, organize, and build their lives.

A farmer might stop in for ledger sheets, a student for school supplies, and a shop owner for printed invoices, all under the same roof.

Looking back, it’s easy to see that, just like our other local businesses, The Press didn’t just serve customers the news of the day, they held the community together, one page, one letter, and one clacking keystroke at a time.

Address

28 Gish Road PO Box 583
Rittman, OH
44270

Telephone

+13309030332

Website

http://www.rittmanhistoricalsociety.org/

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