In 2005 I published a book about my 4,800-mile run across the United States on the American Discovery Trail.  Available for purchase this story recounts the many miles of wrong turns, animal encounters, and local color as I tried to follow a trail that wasn't yet mapped, signed or open.

Email me directly for a signed copy and the best price - just $18 which includes shipping. If I'm running across a state, I'll get it to you as soon as I get back. My email is: RunForrestRun@Hotmail.com  If you can't wait, you can purchase it directly from the following vendors:

Amazon.com

Authorhouse

Excerpt

As I made my way back up the hill from Manchester to rejoin the route, I noticed a Reese’s Cup candy bar wrapper on the side of the road.  Perhaps it was my “meager” 12-pancake breakfast, or my body anticipating high caloric need during the day’s run.  Whatever the reason, the instant I saw that wrapper I knew that I had to have a Reese’s Cup right there and then.  At the top of the hill there was a small gas station, and I bought not one but two packages of the peanut butter and chocolate delights.  Sitting there on the steps of that gas station at 8:15 a.m. eating my 500-calorie snack, I coined a new phrase, “Trashvertizing.”  My new definition would read as follows, “trash•ver•tize (trash•ver•tiz’), v. 1. The practice of secret agents in the candy bar industry who place their product in highly visible and appealing locations such as ditches and gutters where passersby will see them and be tempted to purchase said candy bar at next opportunity.”

Arriving at the Counterfeit House a few miles later I noticed that the house itself looked in disrepair.  There was no “open” sign or other evidence that visitors were welcome.   I approached a trailer in the side yard of the house and knocked on the door.  An older woman came to the door but upon seeing someone she didn’t recognize, locked the storm door and waited to hear what I wanted.  I explained that I was running across the country and had been looking forward to touring the Counterfeit House for 500 miles.  Unimpressed, she simply said, “Well, it’s closed.  The roof leaks and it’s not open to the public.”  I was heartbroken.  What mysterious things were inside that home just a few yards away?  Perhaps this woman was getting back into action and used her, “Sorry, closed” speech to cover the printing operation going on in the shadows of the old home.

When I pressed her for a few stories about the old days she finally sized me up through the screen and gave in to storytelling as she unlatched the door and came outside.  As we sat down on the porch swing she slowly warmed up to me and told me about this amazing site and her connection to it.

Oliver Tompkins built the “Counterfeit House” in 1840.  Mr. Tompkins designed the home for the purpose of making counterfeit 50-cent pieces and $500 bills.  Just why he chose to make only those two denominations is unclear.  The doors to the home had special locks designed so that even when locked, “authorized” people could enter by turning the knob a certain way.  Several slots were carved away above interior doors.  These slots were where the counterfeit money was stored in bags and then replaced with real money when an exchange took place.  In the attic, there is a small window in which Mr. Tompkins placed two lights.  One was green and the other red.  From the advantageous position of the home on a high bluff, the building can be seen from the Ohio River over one and a half miles away.  Boat captains who knew of Mr. Tompkins’ business could look up the hillside and if the green light was on, it meant that the coast was clear and that they could come up to buy money.  If the red light was on, however, it meant trouble and to stay away.  For additional security, seven chimneys were erected in the home.  Of the seven, only two were actually used as such.  The other five were false double chimneys that had stairways built inside them.  Through an elaborate system of ducts, the two real chimneys sent flumes of smoke out the five fake chimneys.  From inside the fake chimney, and hidden behind a plume of smoke, Mr. Tompkins could see who was coming up the hill.

In the back of the home was the actual counterfeiting room. It was built with no doors or windows.  The only access to the room was through a trap door in the ceiling and a trap door in the floor.  The floor trap led to an escape tunnel that went over one hundred yards underground “big enough for a man and a horse,” to a nearby cliff, as a grainy photocopied brochure stated.

As legend has it, Mr. Tompkins’ sister, Ann, tried to pass one of his phony $500 bills in Cincinnati and that exchange led police to follow her to her brother’s home.  When the police were closing in, it is believed Mr. Tompkins and his daughter escaped through the tunnel and blew it up on their way out.  To end the police chase that lasted for several years, Ann returned to the Counterfeit House with a coffin that she said contained the remains of her deceased father.  A mock funeral was held in the home.  It is rumored that Mr. Tompkins watched the funeral from one of his chimney lookouts.

Though I never got to go inside, my new friend made the history of the house come alive with her stories.  I did notice, however, that she seemed tired of her connection with the home.  She had lived in it for a number of years with her husband who is now in a nursing home.  She obviously felt pain and loneliness but said that she just got to the point where she couldn’t take care of him any longer.  She said that later in the day she was going to mow the yard.  I couldn’t imagine that she still took care of the daily chores and I offered to do it for her but she declined.  When I asked why she was no longer giving tours of the home, she explained that over the years the Counterfeit House has suffered neglect and the roof needs to be replaced.

With such an unusual home like this and its historical significance, I asked whether she had spoken to the local historical society or the chamber of commerce to get help with the building’s restoration.   That was apparently the wrong thing to say as she replied, “Oh, those people don’t want to help me.  They don’t want to give me anything for the house.”  She went on to say that the roof is leaking so badly it needs to be replaced before the entire inside is ruined.  That would cost $5,000 alone.  I thought surely there was some kind of grant or foundation nearby that would be willing to fix the roof until the rest of the funds for restoration could be raised.

By this point in her story, she was much friendlier and even offered me food.  Grabbing my arm she asked,” Can I get you a cheese sandwich?” and went inside towards the kitchen before I could answer.  “How would you like a can of Turkey Franks?  I’ve got Ice Cream! A Coke?”

Each time she would say something, she would turn around, go inside and get it, and each time that she got something, she reminded herself of something else to offer me.  “Here’s a Hi-C Juice Box, that will be good.  Oh, and here’s a Reese’s Cup bar, you’ll need that!”

I didn’t want to tell her about my recent trashvertizing experience, so I took it and enjoyed my third one of the morning.  We traded addresses and I was exceedingly pleased with my visit to the Counterfeit House, even though I never saw the inside.

Brian R. Stark
BrianRStark@Hotmail.com