Judge Harry Rankin Photo property of Senath Rankin |
But in their handout they don't have any comments about the court house. They simply wrote that once the tour guests were inside the building, its history would be told. So I can only speculate that they viewed the famous murals, discussed the various offices housed there and most likely toured the court room.
As I thought about what I could write that would anything new to the history of this building, I realized it would have to be something personal. And, to me and my family, the court house was my grandfather's office.
Harry Rankin was appointed by Governor Cooper to be the judge of Common Pleas on February 1, 1930 and held the office until his sudden death in April 1953. This photo is pretty close, or may be identical, to the one that still hangs in the court room.
Before he was judge he was in private practice with his father, Lee Rankin. The offices of Rankin & Rankin were located on the second floor across the street at 107 1/2 Court Street. He also served two terms as City Solicitor and two terms as County Prosecutor.
In his first few months in office, Harry was faced with presiding over the liquidation of many banks that had failed in the county following the stock market crash of 1929. One of his first court dockets also listed cases involving bootleggers and a domestic dispute. His decisions ran the gamut from custody battles to bankruptcies to applying the death penalty.
In his obituary, which was on the front page of the Record-Herald on May 1, 1943, it stated that his record as judge was remarkable in that only one of his cases in 23 years was overturned by a higher court. His career was also praised for the cases which established legal precedents in Ohio law; notably the triple murder case of James Collett in 1945.
One of my strongest memories of the court house happened when I was a 7th grader at Eber School.
Photo by Senath Rankin, September 2010 |
I had decided to create my own field trip. I went home one day and told my father that I was bored and asked if there was a trial going on that I could observe. He told me there was but that I would probably be bored sitting in the gallery.
Being the outspoken girl I was, I replied, "Well, not as bored as I am in school right now!"
So, in a day or two Dad drove me to Eber and waited while I ran in to give my teacher, Mrs. Wilson, an excuse note. I ran back to the car and off we went to town. At that time Dad's office was across the alley from the court house; one he shared with his partner, Rollo Marchant. (138 East Court Street now part of Advantage Bank). I was familiar with the court house and he had no problem sending me off on my own.
I don't recall the trial I watched that day; it wasn't that memorable. But I do remember, very vividly, looking at my grandfather's portrait hanging behind the bench and wishing I'd had the chance to know him.
I don't recall the trial I watched that day; it wasn't that memorable. But I do remember, very vividly, looking at my grandfather's portrait hanging behind the bench and wishing I'd had the chance to know him.
Harry, (or Papo as the family called him) died the year before I was born. But I always enjoyed hearing stories about his ironic sense of humor (which my father inherited); how many people still referred to him as "the judge" long after his death; and how well respected he was in his profession.
The court house has been renovated and an observance is planned this month.
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