The Vogt House...if the walls could talk

A likely stop for someone who drives Main Street in Sylvania frequently is
the light near St. Joseph's Catholic Church. To the east, set off the road
amid giant shade trees, is the Vogt house.
Shown on maps of the area as early as 1867, it began as a farm house
belonging to the Lathrop family who, in pre-Civil War days, had a basement
room in which fugitive slaves were reputedly hidden as they made their way
north to Canada and to freedom. (Marie Vogt, in an article written in the
Sentinel Herald Nov. 8, 1956, said, "There's a wall bricked-up in the
basement. I'd try digging for the supposedly hidden room but my husband
won't let me.")
To the skeptical who ask what historical proof there is to authenticate
claims such as these, one must readily admit that it's very difficult to
produce black-on-white evidence. It is hard to expect the operators to have
kept records of how many times they broke the law by assisting in the
stealing of "property" and thereby subjecting themselves to stiff fines and
imprisonment under the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850.
According to the book "The Harroun Family In America," 1940, oral tradition
has it that fugitives were covered with hay in wagons that traveled by
night, and that fugitives were also hidden in the Lathrop house across the
fields from the Harrouns.
In a "news note" in the Northwest Ohio Historical Society's Quarterly of
1939, a brief item appeared about the discovery of the secret basement room
in the Lathrop house, Sylvania, which was being remodeled.
Today this stately home stands as a piece of history.
But what about its future? Marie Vogt, the current owner, is at least
considering offers on the house.
Invisioned as a perfect bed and breakfast by many over the years, the R1
zoning does not restrict a purchaser from tearing down this regal, historic
home.
In a community preserved in its heretige and wrapped in beauty, isn't it
better to question the fate of this timeless manner now, than lamenting its
loss?
Some say, "Nothing is written to prove this was a part of the Underground
Railroad." Then lets examine the bricked wall and the rumored tunnels to the
back of the house.
Ah, if the walls could talk, the history they could tell ­ the beauty that
could be lost to the community, a landmark that has stood since before the
Civil War.
But the walls are quiet; maybe the community shouldn't be. Maybe the
community needs to stand up for the house the same way the first owners
stood up for human property.
If the walls could talk, would they ask the same?

Publisher's note: Historical information is reprinted from a series
"Sylvania Chronicle" printed in the Sylvania Sentinel.