Sandusky, I was pretty sure, would be my living hell.
If the contrived world of Disney—in sunny Orlando—irritated me, I was certain a watered-down, lower-end, strip-mall-infused version in northern Ohio would do the same.
In my mind, the only redeeming quality of the city of 25,095 on the southern shore of Lake Erie was its role as the home of the fictional Callahan Auto Parts in Tommy Boy.
All that changed, of course, when I began to lay eyes on the place.
The transition was slow, as I initiated the process by doing what humans do—I confirmed preexisting beliefs.
I drove along Route 250 and took note of the not-very-unique collection of mid-range chain stores. I located a couple gimmicky indoor water parks (not the only ones in town), knowing that I would unfortunately be staying at one. Somewhere nearby—I wasn’t sure where—were sports complexes that hosted myriad youth sporting events.
And then I swung up to the lake, catching a glimpse of the world-famous Cedar Point, also known as the really old amusement park that forces unsuspecting Americans to vacation in Ohio.
In a matter of minutes, I had checked all the boxes—all, that is, except one.
That last box, it turns out, contained Sandusky’s most critical element—its story.
For that, I headed downtown, fully aware that city centers in the Rust Belt can be a source of great disappointment.
I was not disappointed.
As I strolled along the lake, ducking my head in and out of whatever was open at the time, I started to piece the story together.
It began, as you might imagine, with Native groups. Later, the French and English fought over the region, with the former getting the boot after the Seven Years’ War. The next faceoff was between the Brits and the Americans, both in the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.
Sandusky was incorporated as a city in 1824. Leading up to the Civil War, it played a critical part in the Underground Railroad, so much so that Harriet Beecher Stowe used it as the gateway to freedom (i.e. Canada) for runaway slaves in her groundbreaking novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin. During the Civil War, Johnson’s Island in Sandusky Bay housed a Confederate prison.
Water and rail made Sandusky a natural center of manufacturing and transportation, the latter moving coal and lumber originating elsewhere.
Local resources lent themselves to limestone quarrying, wine production, paper production, and ice harvesting.
Along the way, geography and, yes, Cedar Point brought tourism into the mix, and as other industries experienced ebbs and flows, the tourism industry ensured a non-disastrous transition into the 21st century.
In other words, that which I had derided was actually something worthy of respect—ingenuity.
I learned that beyond Cedar Point and the indoor water parks are several popular Lake Erie islands, served by ferries and/or private boats docked at local marinas. Recreational fishing—and recreation in general—are big draws, as are wineries, beaches, and striking sunsets.
Back on the mainland, downtown Sandusky has proven itself more than capable of feeding, entertaining, and educating visitors, some of whom might even dare to use the term charming.
I learned that there are several shout outs to history, an example being the Merry-Go-Round Museum, a nod to Sandusky’s once prominent role in building carousels.
And I learned that not all history is history, as manufacturing companies, transportation outfits, and limestone quarries continue to support the local economy.
Ultimately, when my self-guided introduction to Sandusky’s story was over, I was left with just one question.
If this was living hell, why did I want to come back?
