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by Michelle Davidson, Editor
The City Paper (Toledo, OH)
December, 1997
There once was a mayor, Finkbeiner Scrooge, who had development on his mind. It consumed all of his time. Keep Jeep, Keep Jeep, Keep Jeep, he told himself day and night. Years earlier, his city had bought up 1,187 acres of land out Monclova way for $6,500 an acre, and he hoped to sell it at a huge profit for his city.
Then one day, an archeologist digging there found musket balls, buttons, and a gun -- 580 pieces of evidence to prove that a major battle of the Revolutionary War, later called the battle of Fallen Timbers, took place there.
And so the Fallen Timbers Battlefield Preservation Commission, which ought to consider preserving syllables, and local Native Americans went to Scrooge with a request. "Kind sir, this is the site of the battle that opened up the Northwest to development," they said.
"Bah, humbug," he grunted.
"But it was one of the three most critical battles in United States history. Won't you consider preserving 183 acres of this land as a memorial to the dead, a sacred site for the indigenous peoples, an educational opportunity for the living, and a historical landmark for the nation? We'll give you $13,000 an acre."
"Bah, humbug," Scrooge repeated. "$50,000 an acre, not a penny less. I must make money for the city taxpayers -- and besides, I have to keep Jeep and they may want this site. And a man named Isaacs -- who's richer than you -- is thinking about building a huge mall there."
But since they were just common folk with families to feed, and since foundations don't grant money for the purchase of land, the preservationists went away empty-handed, but unwilling to give up. And Jeep stayed and said they didn't want the battlefield; and Mr. Isaacs said he'd take some of the property near the battlefield, but he wouldn't purchase the land that the preservationists had their eyes on.
On Christmas Eve, after Scrooge Finkbeiner had secured his reelection, he was settling down for a long winter's nap, when suddenly he awoke to find a Revolutionary War soldier standing next to his bed. "Stop right there," Scrooge announced. "I'm making a citizen's arrest."
"I'm General Anthony Wayne," the intruder said. "I'm the Ghost of Northwest Ohio's Past and you are coming with me."
"You're mad!" Mayor Scrooge exclaimed.
"Good, you've heard of me," the apparition said, as he grabbed Scrooge's arm. Next thing Scrooge knew, he was standing in a forest surrounded by . . . fallen timbers and heavy brush.
"Where are we?" Scrooge asked.
"It's 1794 along the banks of the Maumee," the ghost said. "A battle is about to commence." The pair watched until the Native Americans retreated to the British's Fort Miamis. "My victory here assured the white settlers safe passage westward and gave America the Great Lakes region," the ghost proclaimed. "Name something for me, would ya?"
But then, a Native American appeared and said, "I am the Other Ghost of Northwest Ohio's Past. This is where my people were betrayed by the Americans in the interest of manifest destiny. You will carry guilt into the afterlife if this land is not preserved in our honor."
"Yeah, yeah," Scrooge mumbled, as he crawled back into his warm bed.
He had no more than drifted off when someone shook him. "I'm the Ghost of Northwest Ohio's Present," the intruder said. Before the mayor could open his eyes, the ghost swept him over the city.
"There's the Jeep plant I saved, and the Owens Corning headquarters I brought, the downtown development I'm doing, and the restaurants . . ." Scrooge marveled.
"Enough already," the ghost interrupted. Soon they landed in a pristine area. "This is Fallen Timbers today," the ghost declared. "You're standing where history was made."
"Hey, this place looks about the same as it did 200 years ago," Scrooge observed, recalling his earlier visit.
Then the Ghost of Northwest Ohio's Future showed up and whisked Scrooge away to the Mud Hens Mega-super Mall. "This can't be Fallen Timbers!" Scrooge said. "It's supposed to be Fallen Timbers Mall, with a memorial to the battle!"
"Toledo got the stadium; Maumee got the mall," the ghost explained. "As for the battlefield site, it was paved over and forgotten -- nobody even mentions it anymore. Nobody cares about history -- just the future."
On Christmas Day, Scrooge leapt from his bed and dashed straight for the phone and summoned the Fallen Timbers folks to the site of the battle, where they found Finkbeiner Scrooge draping the site with festive red bows. "I have changed," he announced. "I see the importance of this land to our nation, and I see that a 185-acre memorial would attract tourists to the area, who would flood in to walk the ground where their forefathers and mothers walked. And they would need to stay in our hotels, and eat in our restaurants, and visit the Center of Science and Industry, thereby making it possible for the city of Toledo to sell the remaining land for big bucks."
"Hip, hip, hurrah," the crowd cheered, as they showered Scrooge Finkbeiner with adulation. "Bless us -- everyone who is yours for a strong Toledo."
(With apologies to Charles Dickens and Clement C. Moore)
Shelly
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