It was a cavalcade, a snow parade, a merry crusade. The great sleigh ride of 1856 was a spontaneous overflow of unbridled enthusiasm.
Good-natured rivalries between Western Reserve villages led townsfolk to whip up the greatest sleighing party in Ohio’s history. News of the grand event generated headlines around the world about America’s new pastime.
The winter of 1855-56 provided perfect weather for the occasion: A light snow fell nearly every day for more than three months. When March arrived, the rolling countryside was buried in 2½ feet of packed snow.
In February, a group of Solon residents went on a joy ride through Twinsburg with seven sleighs pulled by four-horse teams. One of the sleighs carried a 33-by-55-inch cotton banner that depicted a child thumbing his nose and taunting “You Can’t Come It,” a phrase that villagers took as a challenge.
Twinsburg residents vowed to defend Summit County’s honor after the invasion by Cuyahoga County usurpers. Neighbors hastily assembled 16 four-horse teams and rode to Solon to capture the banner. After the show of superior strength, Solon acquiesced and Twinsburg took the banner home.
Bedford residents learned of the challenge, replied with 32 sleighs, rode cheerfully to Twinsburg and reclaimed the flag. Other towns were drawn into the competition, each forming a sleighing party larger than the next to seize the banner: Brecksville (44), Royalton (63), Independence (65) and Boston (66).
“By this time the excitement was so great that it was determined to make it a county affair, between the three contiguous counties of Cuyahoga, Medina and Summit,” historian Samuel A. Lane wrote. “Richfield being already in possession of the prize and being, withal, the most central township in the territory involved in the contest, it was decided that the triangular gathering should be held there.”
The Richfield gathering on Saturday, March 14, 1856, was a sight to behold as brightly decorated snow chariots converged on the normally quiet community. Brass bands and drum corps supplied musical entertainment. About 10,000 bundled spectators watched as hundreds of four- and six-horse teams whisked into town.
According to the Summit Beacon, the sleighs were laden with “male and female, old and young, rich and poor, every grade from the silver haired grandfather and mother down to the little prattling child of a few months old and such a happy, jolly company, it does one good even to think of it.”
There were 6,524 participants, 1,864 horses and 466 sleighs with each vehicle carrying an average of 14 revelers.
Marshals made a careful count to see which county brought the most sleighs to the party. Medina had 140, Cuyahoga had 151 and Summit had 171 sleighs. There were great huzzahs as Hudson collected the flag for supplying 71 teams.
Hudson turned the banner over to Summit County in a formal ceremony, and the prized flag was transported to Akron for safekeeping.
For four days, Summit reigned supreme, but Medina residents didn’t take the loss well. They hatched a brazen scheme to capture the flag.
On Tuesday, March 18, as the temperature rose and the snow melted, Medina County residents filled 185 sleighs — 14 more than Summit — and drove 20 miles to Akron to claim the banner.
“They were received by the citizens of Akron with extravagant demonstrations, including the ringing of bells, firing of cannon and uproarious cheers,” historian Henry Howe wrote.
“Word was passed back from the head of the line to the last load, which commenced cheering, and the cheers came swelling back up the line, and were taken up by the rapidly congregating citizens until the town was in one deafening roar of human voice.”
Summit turned over the banner without a fight. Medina had played the game well because the warming weather meant it was the last day of sleighing that winter.
As Lane noted: “the sleighing was in a very liquefactious condition, indeed, while the homeward journey had to be performed through a literal ‘sea of mud.’ ”
For decades, the flag was a prized relic in Medina. It was brought out for patriotic parades and fluttered during holidays. But its whereabouts today remain unknown.
Perhaps it’s still tucked away in the attic of some century home in Medina County, waiting for the next sleighing party.
For those who want to capture it, “You Can’t Come It.”
Copy editor Mark J. Price is the author of Lost Akron from The History Press. He can be reached at 330-996-3850 or mjprice@thebeaconjournal.com.