Bedford Historical Society Museum
Museum Entrance
Each picture frame has a different movie playing. The photo doesn't do this innovative display justice.
Millstone from the old gristmill along Tinkers Creek.
Jack McQuiqqin
This helmet saved the life of Captain William Cadwallader during the Battle of Argonne during World War I. You can see where the bullet went through it.
A view from the second floor.
This model of the USS Constitution was made by Edward Milbrant.
Porcelain made by the Walker China Company.
There is a display showcasing the radio and television of Bedford native Tim Taylor, who, I was told, had visited the musuem the day before the author did.
Walker China Company Toaster
Cross section of how Walker made its plates.
This model of a Cleveland-Cliffs freighter was created by the Voco Marine Model Company.
Unglazed plate created the Walker China Company with a copy of Archibald Willard's painting The Spirit of '76.
Medicine cabinet from Forbes Drugstore that survived Bedford's Great Fire of 1983.
This projector, made from parts of several to make the whole, was originally made around 1906.
Representation of the Drake Home
Some believe that quilts such as this one contain secret message used by those who escaped from the slavery via the Underground Railroad. It's debtable if this is true or not.
A chair made by one of Bedford's earliest industries, the Taylor Chair Company.
These are tools and lasts (the wooden shapes over which shoes were constructed) that Alonzo Drake would have used to make shoes.
This 1901 wooden telephone booth, double-walled for privacy, was once in the Forbes General Store.
M5A1 Stuart Light Tank
Scuptures by Richard Sheldon, an artist born in Philadelphia in 1900 who spent the much of his life living in Bedford, where he died. These stairs go up to balcony, which the author didn't visit.
Outside the entrance of the Bedford Historical Society Museum you will find a grindstone from a water-powered gristmill built by Luther Willis in 1825. It once stood along Tinkers Creek in a gorge with a waterfall, and in its last days it became known as Bedford Roller Mills. You can see its remnants in Bedford’s Viaduct Park.
A few paces away, you’ll see an M5A1 Stuart Light tank. The particular one was built at the tail end of World War II and never saw combat, nor did it leave the States. Bedford resident Ludwig Conelly, a retired general, secured it for Bedford Township shortly after the war’s end. Only 6,810 were ever built, and few survive. Many went to British forces in North Africa under Lend-Lease, others to the Pacific Islands and China. The one at the museum, which in the past appeared in city parades under its own power, has had several homes. It was originally found at Bedford Public Square, then a city park on Taft Street, and finally at the city’s service yard before being move to its present location. The VFW French-Bartlett Post 1082 repainted it in 2004.
The museum is located in Bedford’s former townhall, which doubled as a theater complete with a balcony. Built in 1874, the Bedford Historical Society bought the building in 1963 for a mere $10, then spent $40,000 (about $437,882 in 2026) renovating it. Visitors tour three floors plus the basement (usually). The only place you can’t see is the balcony. A tour guide takes you through, and mine was especially good. At one point while in the creepy basement, we even told each other some ghost stories.
A few paces away, you’ll see an M5A1 Stuart Light tank. The particular one was built at the tail end of World War II and never saw combat, nor did it leave the States. Bedford resident Ludwig Conelly, a retired general, secured it for Bedford Township shortly after the war’s end. Only 6,810 were ever built, and few survive. Many went to British forces in North Africa under Lend-Lease, others to the Pacific Islands and China. The one at the museum, which in the past appeared in city parades under its own power, has had several homes. It was originally found at Bedford Public Square, then a city park on Taft Street, and finally at the city’s service yard before being move to its present location. The VFW French-Bartlett Post 1082 repainted it in 2004.
The museum is located in Bedford’s former townhall, which doubled as a theater complete with a balcony. Built in 1874, the Bedford Historical Society bought the building in 1963 for a mere $10, then spent $40,000 (about $437,882 in 2026) renovating it. Visitors tour three floors plus the basement (usually). The only place you can’t see is the balcony. A tour guide takes you through, and mine was especially good. At one point while in the creepy basement, we even told each other some ghost stories.
Local historical societies often have a display honoring veterans from the area they cover, and this one is no different. Jack McQuiqqin, Machinists Mate 2nd Class, enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1939. Serving on several destroyers, he joined the crew of the USS Peary on January 17, 1942, which was stationed at Darwin, Australia. Ten weeks after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, they attacked here, sinking the Peary in the process. Quiggan went down with her. His recovered body was buried first in the Bagot Hospital Cemetery, then moved to the Berrimah War Cemetery. After the war, he was reinterred in Bedford Cemetery.
Captain William Cadwallader fought at the Battle of the Argonne in World War I. During the fighting a machine gun bullet hit his helmet, which deflected its force enough that it only scrapped him, falling harmlessly to the ground. His helmet, bullet hole and all, can be seen at the museum.
One of the most innovative displays I’ve ever seen is a wall of picture frames behind which are films from historic events playing all at once. The photo I’ve provided doesn’t do it justice. A video-editing wizard created it to play on a television behind the picture frames. Each film fits perfectly in its frame and appears to play independently from the others.
Captain William Cadwallader fought at the Battle of the Argonne in World War I. During the fighting a machine gun bullet hit his helmet, which deflected its force enough that it only scrapped him, falling harmlessly to the ground. His helmet, bullet hole and all, can be seen at the museum.
One of the most innovative displays I’ve ever seen is a wall of picture frames behind which are films from historic events playing all at once. The photo I’ve provided doesn’t do it justice. A video-editing wizard created it to play on a television behind the picture frames. Each film fits perfectly in its frame and appears to play independently from the others.
There are a number of models scattered throughout the museum, two of which are especially impressive. One is of the USS Constitution that was put together by Bedford native Edward Milbrant. The Constitution was built for the U.S. Navy in 1797. She earned her nickname “Old Ironsides” during the War of 1812. She is still in service today as a Navy training vessel. An especially large model of a Cleveland-Cliffs’ lake freighter came from the Voco Marine Model Company, a one-man mail-order business founded and run by Joseph J. Volanski. He specialized in Great Lake freighters and sold both kits and finished models. Passing away on October 20, 2019, his company was folded into Bearco Marine.
On the museum’s third floor is a huge cabinet filled with porcelain made by Bedford’s Walker China Company. Founded in 1823 as the Bailey-Walker China Company by Albert M. Walker, an Akron businessman, and, Harry Bailey, an attorney, it began operations in part of the Bedford China Company’s factory on Solon Road, which had gone bankrupt the year before. Bailey-Walker made vitrified china, an especially strong porcelain used by restaurants and places in need of heavy-duty dishes. Walker bought Bailey out, and in 1943 renamed the business company Walker China Company. Like nearly all Ohio-based porcelain makers, it closed in 1981.
On the museum’s third floor is a huge cabinet filled with porcelain made by Bedford’s Walker China Company. Founded in 1823 as the Bailey-Walker China Company by Albert M. Walker, an Akron businessman, and, Harry Bailey, an attorney, it began operations in part of the Bedford China Company’s factory on Solon Road, which had gone bankrupt the year before. Bailey-Walker made vitrified china, an especially strong porcelain used by restaurants and places in need of heavy-duty dishes. Walker bought Bailey out, and in 1943 renamed the business company Walker China Company. Like nearly all Ohio-based porcelain makers, it closed in 1981.
Bedford was once a part of the Underground Railroad. The museum points out that while Ohio was a free state, it wasn’t a safe place for runaways. For its first forty-six years as a state, Ohio’s politicians did everything they could to keep both runaway slaves and free Blacks from settling here. The reason: Ohio’s founding fathers had come mainly from Southern states. Some were even former slave owners, although they’d decided it wasn’t an institution they wanted to be a part of. That didn’t mean they’d given up their racist attitudes. This is why the Ohio Legislature passed the notorious Black Laws.
One law forbade runaway slaves from settling in the state. Another, written in 1804, required free African Americans who wanted to live here to provide a county clerk a certificate of freedom. An 1807 amendment added the requirement that each Black settler also had to give a bond of $500 (about $14,500 today) to “ensure [says a museum information sign] … good behavior. Without the certificate and bond in place blacks were barred from being employed and whites were heavily fined if they hired, harbored or concealed blacks that [sic] didn’t possess the required documents.” African Americans couldn’t vote, testify or serve on a jury against a white person, and Black children weren’t allowed to attend publicly-funded schools.
Despite state and federal laws against aiding runaway slaves, the Underground Railroad had routes throughout Ohio. In Bedford, the Methodist, Baptist and Disciple churches all aided runaway slaves, as did private citizens. It’s believed the John P. Robison and his wife, Betsey Dunham, who lived what would become known as the Hillhaven Mansion (since torn down), hid fugitive slaves in their home. During a renovation years after the Civil War ended, another family living there, the Blakes, found a hidden sliding panel that led to stairs heading into the house’s basement. From here a runaway could escape from the house’s south side, then head to Tinkers Creek or hop onto a passing train.
One law forbade runaway slaves from settling in the state. Another, written in 1804, required free African Americans who wanted to live here to provide a county clerk a certificate of freedom. An 1807 amendment added the requirement that each Black settler also had to give a bond of $500 (about $14,500 today) to “ensure [says a museum information sign] … good behavior. Without the certificate and bond in place blacks were barred from being employed and whites were heavily fined if they hired, harbored or concealed blacks that [sic] didn’t possess the required documents.” African Americans couldn’t vote, testify or serve on a jury against a white person, and Black children weren’t allowed to attend publicly-funded schools.
Despite state and federal laws against aiding runaway slaves, the Underground Railroad had routes throughout Ohio. In Bedford, the Methodist, Baptist and Disciple churches all aided runaway slaves, as did private citizens. It’s believed the John P. Robison and his wife, Betsey Dunham, who lived what would become known as the Hillhaven Mansion (since torn down), hid fugitive slaves in their home. During a renovation years after the Civil War ended, another family living there, the Blakes, found a hidden sliding panel that led to stairs heading into the house’s basement. From here a runaway could escape from the house’s south side, then head to Tinkers Creek or hop onto a passing train.
When Beford Township farmer Joseph Burns found runaway Julius Ceasar Tibbs hiding in a hollow tree on his farm in 1854, he didn’t hesitate to give Tibbs aid. An information sign states that “Burns gave Tibbs a better place to live and gave him work and sold him provisions.” Under the federal 1850 Fugitive Slave Act, Burns faced the possibility of spending six months in jail and paying a $1,000 fine for knowingly harboring a slave.
Julius Ceasar Tibbs was born in 1812 in Virginia. He married Clarissa Baugher in 1842 and with her had two children at the time of his escape. Tibbs’ wife and children reunited with him, and in 1858 or 1859, their next child was born in Bedford itself. The couple had six children in total. At some point the they moved to North Street. Tibbs was always listed as a “dayworker” in Census records. Around town he was “known as an orator, philosopher and humorist. He died on February 7, 1903, at the age of ninety-one, having stayed in Bedford until his death.”
On the museum’s second floor a section is set up to tell the story of the Drake family, one of Bedford’s earliest settlers. The family’s patriarch, Alonzo Drake, was born in Vermont on January 21, 1805. He grew up in a middleclass family, receiving an education from local schools. At the age of eighteen he apprenticed to become a shoemaker and tanner, skills that would serve him well throughout the rest of his life.
Julius Ceasar Tibbs was born in 1812 in Virginia. He married Clarissa Baugher in 1842 and with her had two children at the time of his escape. Tibbs’ wife and children reunited with him, and in 1858 or 1859, their next child was born in Bedford itself. The couple had six children in total. At some point the they moved to North Street. Tibbs was always listed as a “dayworker” in Census records. Around town he was “known as an orator, philosopher and humorist. He died on February 7, 1903, at the age of ninety-one, having stayed in Bedford until his death.”
On the museum’s second floor a section is set up to tell the story of the Drake family, one of Bedford’s earliest settlers. The family’s patriarch, Alonzo Drake, was born in Vermont on January 21, 1805. He grew up in a middleclass family, receiving an education from local schools. At the age of eighteen he apprenticed to become a shoemaker and tanner, skills that would serve him well throughout the rest of his life.
Marrying Sarah Eudocia from Vermont on October 8, 1829, he made his living doing shoemaking and tanning in her home state, first in Bristol, then in Monkton. In 1834 he left his wife and two children behind to venture west into Ohio with a peddler’s wagon pulled by a single horse. It was equipped for shoemaking so he could pay his way. Reaching the Bedford area after four weeks of travel, he liked the place so much, he traded his horse, wagon and remaining stock in exchange for thirty acres of land.
Traveling to Michigan, he found he liked Beford better and returned. After being gone for about twenty-three weeks, he went back home. Two years later he headed back to Bedford and bought another seventy-five acres near the thirty acres he’d already purchased. In a brief autobiography dictated to his granddaughter, Hattie A. Drake, he said, “I returned to Monkton, closed out my business, and in September 1838 started with my wife and three children” to Ohio.
Traveling to Michigan, he found he liked Beford better and returned. After being gone for about twenty-three weeks, he went back home. Two years later he headed back to Bedford and bought another seventy-five acres near the thirty acres he’d already purchased. In a brief autobiography dictated to his granddaughter, Hattie A. Drake, he said, “I returned to Monkton, closed out my business, and in September 1838 started with my wife and three children” to Ohio.
He planned to farm his land, but it needed to be cleared first. He hired men to do that, paying them in shoes. For years he did shoemaking two days a week, then worked on the farm for the rest of it. He raised dairy cows and used their milk to make and sell cheese.
His was a typical pioneer’s life. He and his family initially lived in a log cabin until such time that could build a frame house. The Ohio frontier wasn’t a healthy place, and one of his sons, Sheldon, died at the age of two years, nine months. Another son, Edwin, lived to adulthood and became a teacher. Sometime in 1849 or 1850 he and others from Bedford headed to California to look for gold—they been caught up in the California Gold Rush. He didn’t find any, although he did make a living of some sort. Returning home in July 1853, he died of typhoid fever a few weeks later on July 23. Alonzo remained on his Bedford farm until his death on February 11, 1890.🕜
His was a typical pioneer’s life. He and his family initially lived in a log cabin until such time that could build a frame house. The Ohio frontier wasn’t a healthy place, and one of his sons, Sheldon, died at the age of two years, nine months. Another son, Edwin, lived to adulthood and became a teacher. Sometime in 1849 or 1850 he and others from Bedford headed to California to look for gold—they been caught up in the California Gold Rush. He didn’t find any, although he did make a living of some sort. Returning home in July 1853, he died of typhoid fever a few weeks later on July 23. Alonzo remained on his Bedford farm until his death on February 11, 1890.🕜
Inside the Museum