a dozen families to his own phalanx, which he named Utopia.
For a rent of $25 a year, each family received a wooden house. Fourier’s plans called for the community to eventually have its own farmland, stables, schools, and libraries. Fourier built a community dining hall on the river and a thirty-room brick house on higher ground.
Fourier’s followers were patient but when the oceans did not turn into lemonade as he had predicted, many became disillusioned and left the community. In 1847, Fourier sold the property and buildings to John O. Wattles, a Spiritualist leader. The first thing Wattles did was to move the brick building down to the riverbank, brick by brick. It was rebuilt by December of that year, just in time for the record floods that washed through the Ohio River valley, bringing with them record-breaking high water.
Despite all warnings, many of the Spiritualists gathered in the brick house for a dance on the night of December 12. The party came to a gruesome end, though, when the bricks gave way in the rushing flood waters and many of the people inside were swept away into the dark and freezing waters.
Today, Utopia is little more than two roads that dead-end at the river, a gas station, and a couple houses. But some say the Spiritualists are still there. There are reports of soggy apparitions coming up out of the river or walking along the riverbank.
Also, an underground stone chamber still remains on the banks of the river. It opens to the surface in two places that are fenced in, but that has not stopped people from climbing over and then descending into the chamber. About twenty feet deep, the dirt-floored chamber has a vaulted roof and two fireplaces. No one knows for certain who built the chamber or how it was used. Was it Wattle’s Spiritualist church? A stop on the Underground Railroad? An old storage facility? Whatever it may have been, it makes an excellent hiding place for ghosts.
Two young men were driving along the river one night when they spotted the Utopia sign. Curious about the place, they stopped to investigate. There wasn’t much to see, but as they picked their way along the riverbank in the dark the men saw a white shape in the distance, coming toward them. As it drew closer they saw that it was taking on a more recognizable form, that of an old woman dressed in tattered clothes. One of the men ran back to the car to get his camera, but by the time he got back, the old woman had disappeared. Was she one of Wattle’s drowned followers?
Maybe you can find out for yourself. The next time you’re driving on SR 52 in Clermont County, make sure you stop at Utopia and spend some time with its ghosts.
Northwest
Bowling Green
Wood County Historical Center & Museum
Milan
Thomas Edison Birthplace
Sylvania
Jenna’s Mediterranean Restaurant
Toledo
Oliver House
CHAPTER 6
Jenna’s Mediterranean Restaurant
SYLVANIA
MY WIFE, MARY, AND I WERE IN SYLVANIA because I was giving a talk about ghosts and ghosthunting at Our Lady of Lourdes College. I’m always amazed at the variety of places that invite me to speak about ghosts, but that’s proof of just how popular ghosts and ghost stories are these days.
Before my talk we were taking in the sights of downtown Sylvania when we happened upon Jenna’s Mediterranean Restaurant on Main Street. We stepped inside for a late lunch. When we read Your taste is my command on the menus, we knew we were in the right place. I had hummus with beef tips and Mary had the chicken shawarma, both of which were excellent, but the baklava we had for dessert was the best baklava I’ve had anywhere and, believe me, over the years I’ve eaten my fair share of baklava! We complimented our waitress, Angie, on the good food. One thing led to another, and I told her about my book and why I was in town. To my surprise—although it happens so often that I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore—Angie told me that the restaurant was haunted. She suggested I talk to the owner, who was not in but would be in the morning.
That evening I gave my talk at the college, and in the morning I went over to Jenna’s. The restaurant wasn’t open for business yet, but the owner, Jerry Assad, was already getting things ready for the lunch crowd. Jerry was a young, energetic guy, trying to make it big in the competitive restaurant business with a restaurant named for his beloved, deceased daughter—I have no doubts that he will be successful.
While he was busily working in the kitchen he told me that, yes, the place was haunted. He wiped his hands on a towel and steered me over to a small table where a framed newspaper article was prominently displayed. He picked it up and handed it to me.
“This article will tell you all about the haunting,” Jerry said.
I began to read the article, and it did start off with the haunting at Jenna’s, including a few quotes from Jerry. But as I continued to read I found that the reporter expanded the article to include other Ohio ghosts and was now talking about me and my work, including some quotes from my books! Jerry was as surprised as I was to find my name mentioned in the article.
“So, this restaurant was the scene of a murder?” I asked Jerry.
“Yes, it seems that it took place in this building,” he said. He handed me a book titled Murder in Sylvania, Ohio: As Told in 1857 by Gage E. Gindy, who had collected and compiled all the newspaper accounts of one of Ohio’s most gruesome crimes. “This book really tells the story,” Jerry said.
I sat down at one of the tables and perused the book. According to the newspaper accounts, on February 3, 1857, Olive Ward told her husband, Return Jonathan Meigs Ward, that she was leaving him for good (they had already been separated). That day was the last time anyone ever saw Olive alive. As people searched for her and rumors began to fly about her disappearance, suspicions fell on Return Ward. Could he have done away with poor Olive? A policeman came to the house to interrogate Ward but found no evidence of any crime committed (later testimony from Ward revealed that, while the policeman was in the house, parts of Olive’s body were in a box under the couch).
Despite that initial lack of evidence, the police remained suspicious of Ward, and on a subsequent search of the house discovered bits of human bone in the ashes Ward had thrown out from the fireplace. There were also bones found in the stove. It appeared that Ward had murdered his wife, cut her body up into pieces, and then burned them.
Ward was arrested and tried. He was found guilty and admitted his guilt. Moreover, he confessed to two other murders in Richland County. On June 12, 1857, Ward, Ohio’s first serial killer, was hanged at the Lucas County Courthouse in Toledo. His last words were, “Oh, my God, I am thine. Thou art mine.”
I put the book down and looked around the dining room. Early in the day yet, there were no patrons. It was a pleasant place and it was difficult for me to visualize such a heinous crime taking place there. It was difficult to imagine the screams of poor Olive as her husband hacked her to death. But Jerry is certain that the strange events taking place at Jenna’s are caused by the restless spirits caught up in that crime so long ago. And Jerry is not alone in that belief.
He
