In 1871, a prominent attorney*, Clement L. Vallandigham, decided to engage in a dramatic ploy to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that his client was innocent of murder. Since Vallandigham’s alternate theory was that the victim had accidentally killed himself with a pistol as opposed to having been plugged by his client, Vallandigham practiced what was to be his courtroom demonstration repeatedly while in his comfortable quarters at The Golden Lamb Inn in Lebanon, Ohio. In order to make the demonstration as realistic as possible, Vallandigham made sure that the gun he was using was loaded.
Ultimately, while practicing his summation, Vallandigham successfully proved that the victim could have accidentally killed himself. Vallandigham did so by accidentally shooting himself to death with the loaded pistol.
It may have been the first example of the notorious “Ohio Man” syndrome, where events collide in such a way as to make even a Roman farce appear more realistic. [See "Florida Man"] The fact that this occurred at The Golden Lamb, the state’s oldest hotel still in operation, just gave it all a certain splendor.
Founded in 1803, the year that Ohio became a state, the venue is signified by the facsimile of a lamb rendered in gold paint, designed to be recognized by those who could not read. While originally a log cabin that also served as the first owner’s residence, as the town of Lebanon grew, situated as it was on the coach road between Columbus and Cincinnati, the inn became a more stately and comfortable house, with multiple floors and a tavern and stables adjacent. This was aided considerably when the Lebanon was named the county seat and the courthouse was built directly across the street in 1805.
In those early days, guests would find a menu that boasted what was still standard, buckeye fare even in my childhood: Deer, beer, cornbread, and apple butter. Since bears were a plentiful nuisance in the area, they were added to the menu, too. As the state was growing with Eastern states’ population moving to lush farms that were free of rocks and filled with loamy soil, The Golden Lamb became a meeting place and clearinghouse for information, organization, and occasional political mayhem. The first inter-continental roadway, the Lincoln Highway, which would eventually extend from Atlantic City to San Francisco, was plotted over a hot dish of bear at the inn.
As the Shakers were making their peaceful, non-violent presence known in Lebanon, they would provide the inn with the comfortable chairs and sturdy tables that would be enjoyed by the diners and guests, some still in use to this day. This would become all the more necessary as the inn would become a meeting place for the bellicose realities of a growing republic, serving as the staging area for soldiers, beginning with the War of 1812 and continuing through to the U.S. entry into World War I. To entertain the numerous guests, the inn began to offer musicals, freak show acts, and singers and performers of various types and quality. This necessitated the construction of a stage and, thus, The Golden Lamb became the area’s first theater.
DeWitt Clinton, surveying for his canal system, several English lords on a hunting trip, and many of Ohio’s remarkable, early politicians and orators would make their way to the inn. [In the late 19th century, William Clements, a Methodist circuit horseback lay preacher related to The Coracle, would also spend some time there; just not in the tavern.]
Notoriously, Judge Charles R. Sherman, the father of General William Tecumseh Sherman, would die in his sleep while a guest at the hotel, leaving his nine-year-old son in the temporary care of strangers. Over the years, Charles Dickens, Samuel Clemens, James Garfield, Rutherford B. Hayes, Warren G. Harding, Ulysses, S. Grant, William McKinley, Martin Van Buren, William Howard Taft, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Horace Mann, Ronald Reagan, and George W. Bush have all been guests.
[As Ohio has produced eight U.S. presidents, all but two have stayed the night.]
Because of this association with the movers and shakers [and Shakers] of the burgeoning Midwest, to this day no politician striving for office, even on the national stage, can afford to skip a visit to The Golden Lamb. The inn has hosted virtually every potential nominee for president from both parties since the late 19th century. In fact, within the Buckeye State, it is considered unlucky not to stop there and enjoy, if not a hot plate of bear, then the inn’s “Couscous, Mushroom & Vegetable Cobbler”.
So complete is the inn’s association with national politics, that its current owner is also a U.S. senator.
If you are a fan of bucolic, almost-hidden small towns of charm in the Midwest, Lebanon should not be missed; and, if staying there, while there is a perfectly serviceable Holiday Inn down by the interstate, The Golden Lamb does allow one to interpenetrate with a great deal of early, and not so early, American history and flavor. At less the $150 a night, it’s a bargain.
The fact that the inn is supposedly haunted by some of its former guests and, hence, popular with obtuse television ghost hunters, just makes the whole proposition that much more piquant.
*To our knowledge, Vallandigham was the only person to run for a U.S. governorship while hiding out in a foreign country. He was in Canada shortly after The Civil War, mainly because he supported the Confederacy and Ohio was a pro-emancipation state.