J. R. Robinson’s Legacy in Mansfield, Mexico, & the U.S. Mint

In the earliest days of Mansfield, the town was given shape by the big dreams and adventurous hearts of people who came to the wilderness to start a new world.

One of these men was John Riley Robinson.

He was born in 1810—only two years after Mansfield—and his bold vision in coming of age helped give form and substance and dignity to the young town.

And, in fact, his hunger for adventure, and the scope of his vision, were broad enough to inspire and enrich the young American society as well.



Robinson’s First Adventure

John Robinson’s life began with adventure from a young age—in fact, in can be said with certainty that adventure was in his blood.  The ‘Riley’ of his name came from his Uncle, Captain John Riley, whose wild travels were published in a leather-bound volume titled, An Authentic Narrative of the Loss of the American Brig Commerce, etc.    The tale had shipwrecks and hostages and hand-to-hand combat under the desert moonlight. 

John Robinson grew up reading this story.  So when he turned ten years old and his family was off on a trek into frontier America, John was eager for his baptism by peril.

Robinson’s wagon ride to Ohio seemed to establish more than a home, it laid the pattern for a life of adventure.

He had been born in Connecticut and his parent’s migration was taking them on wilderness trails west into the Ohio lands.  They made the trip in a Conestoga wagon, and John rode on a seat outside the vehicle between the big carmine-colored wheels with a front row view of the unfolding American future.

To the end of his days, John Robinson could describe every piece of their household packed into that wagon, and, because his mother was determined to leave as little behind as possible, there was an art to exactly how it all was stacked to fit between the wheels.

Their journey took them to Mount Vernon, where John’s father left them and disappeared, whereupon they settled in Mansfield when he was almost 13.


Commonly known as ‘Riley’s Narrative,’ John Robinson’s Uncle’s book tells of peril on the high seas in 1815, of shipwreck on the coast of Africa, of slavery in the Sahara, sale to an Arab merchant interested in ransoming Riley, and a harrowing trek to freedom in Morocco.
 
Cultural historians regard it as one of the most widely known texts in America between its publication in 1817 and the Civil War; known to over a million readers, and so popularly common it is mentioned in one of Thoreau’s travel books.
 
It is considered a non-fiction progenitor of the great American Adventure Thriller.

This illustration from a 1964 American Heritage publication shows the perch John Robinson preferred on his family’s Conestoga wagon.  It was known in common transportation usage of the early 1800s as the “lazy seat,’ though it was actually anything but.  This particular seat made him available at any moment to leap down and be of assistance with the six horses pulling the wagon.

The Robinsons left behind a home in Connecticut that was roughly 600 miles from where they wound up in Mount Vernon, as the crow flies, but, as is evident from this 1820 map of the American landscape they crossed, there were no easy or direct routes from there to here. In the best American pioneer tradition the journey was an expedition to a new world.

When Robinson arrived in Mansfield after 1820, the entire county had fewer than 10,000 people living here.  By the time this image was made of the Square in the 1830s, there were almost 2,000 in the town alone.  The booming population presented possibilities for an astute young man with a genius for business.

Mansfield in the 1830s

Robinson had an uncle in town—another of those Rileys—who taught him the business of jewelry.

John came of age practicing the intricacies of timepieces, the scribing of precious metals, and creating the links in a chain that circle a lady’s neck, and, in the process forged the chain of trust that interconnects a community.

From gold plating to gold in his bank account, John Robinson rose in the esteem of his fellow Mansfield businessmen. By the time he was in his thirties, he had amassed his first fortune through bold speculations and understanding the future.


The jewelry store that Robinson took over from his uncle was located on Main Street, as indicated in this image from 1862, in the NW corner of the Square.

“…at John R. Robinson’s can be found a new and fashionable stock of jewelry, including three wheel-barrows full of Spectacles to suit all ages.  Also, Musical Instruments, such as Violins, Clarionetts, Flutes, Flageletts, Fifes, Accordeons, Music Boxes and Harmonicas.  Brass Clocks as low as $3.  Watches and Clocks repaired and warranted, also made to order Silver Spoons, and Silver & Brass plating done. Mansfield, 21 Jun 1848.”

John Robinson married Jane Wilkinson at her father’s farm in Lexington in 1836.  Jane bore eleven young Robinsons, of whom seven survived infancy, and she lived until 1886.

Robinson’s First Fortune

During the same years when John Robinson was building his character, the town of Mansfield was also establishing its character.  It is significant that these two paralleled each other because each had a profound effect on the other.

As the town developed into an Agricultural breadbasket, Robinson gave it vigor by purchasing the oldest grist mill in town and upgrading it as the Riley & Robinson’s Mill.

As the town expanded its reach of commerce, he was right in the middle of the venture to bring one of Ohio’s first Railroads to Mansfield.  And then he became Superintendent of the Railroad.

And then building on that success, he brought the tracks to his Mill and coordinated the Robinson Freight Forwarding depot.

As the town’s fortunes grew, so did his own.

It was then, at his first high-water mark of success and influence, when he made his lasting mark on Mansfield.  He built Oak Hill Cottage.


The first industry in any town was necessarily a mill by which to transform all farmers’ raw produce into something useful and salable by grinding grain into flour.  John Robinson got ownership of Mansfield’s first water-powered grist mill in the 1840s, and, thereby, made himself a vital and integral part of the growing economy.
 
The Robinson-Riley mill was powered by Toby’s Run, with a waterwheel turned from a mill pond that once pooled in an area where Fifth and Sixth Streets are today.

The single factor that turned Mansfield from an obscure country village into a vital urban center was the coming of the railroads: giving it an access road to and from the entire nation. 

Rail quickly created a whole new world of enterprise, and that’s why the Richland Shield & Banner put a locomotive right in its masthead: because it represented an essential part of the community’s new identity.


John Robinson quite naturally filled the role of the Sandusky, Mansfield & Newark Rail Road’s Superintendent, having had experience through his Freight Forwarding service of devising and coordinating mail and freight routes between Ohio and Missouri for the iconic Wells Fargo stagecoach line.

Robinson’s water-powered mill was, naturally, next to the stream in the Flats; and the Railroad followed the flatlands by the stream. So all of these enterprises were easy to watch over from a glacial knoll that rose above the Flats nearby.

  Naturally, that’s where he built his home.

There were many houses built in Mansfield by community leaders of comparable influence and affluence as Robinson, none of which were anywhere as interesting, and none of which have survived to our time in anything other than drawings.
 
Oak Hill Cottage was built in 1847, and everything about it—from its classic lines to its most intricate details—is a perfect rendering of the American Gothic Revival style of architecture.

Oak Hill Cottage owes its existence to the railroad, and it was built on land next to the tracks. Old maps show Robinson’s estate fronted by cypress trees, which certainly gave the place a noble kind of grandeur, but had a much more practical purpose: to serve as a windbreak against the cinders and sparks blowing out of the old locomotives’ smokestacks.

This detail from a bird’s-eye-view map of Mansfield in the 1860s captures the Oak Hill estate from a NE view, looking over the shoulder of the Cottage, and emphasizing the row of cyprus trees that Robinson planted to shield his lawn from locomotive sparks.

When Robinson’s landmark house became famous in the 1920s as the setting for a best-selling American novel, his fencerow of trees established the fictionalized scene on the very first page of the book:
 
“It was a large garden, indeed quite worthy of the name “park,” withdrawn and shut in by high walls of arbor vitae clipped at intervals into small niches which sheltered bits of white statuary, some genuine, some of them copies.
 
Here and there the hedge displayed signs of death.  There were patches where the green had become withered, and other patches where there was no green at all but simply a tangled wall of hard dead twigs.”

From The Green Bay Tree by Louis Bromfield, 1924

This hand-tinted photograph from the 1880s captures the wall of cyprus trees that young Louis Bromfield saw as a youngster and reimagined when he became a renowned author.


Robinson’s Second Adventure

By the time Robinson hit fifty, all his good fortunes had blithely turned their backs on him and he lost everything, including his landmark home.

At that desperate juncture, he simply reassessed the possibilities and started over. The next chapter pointed him to the wilds of Mexico where he made his second fortune as a silver miner.

Through his work and connections with the Mansfield railroad, Robinson was well respected enough to find himself sought after for positions with the young Wells, Fargo Company, and other high-profile East Coast speculative firms.

In 1860, Robinson sold Oak Hill Cottage.  In 1861, he left for Mexico.

As a man whose life seemed destined to read like an adventure story, he filled the pages of his diary with trials of his journey past the bottom of America. His travels took him not only far across the map, but also backward through all ages of transportation.  He departed on a train; but when the tracks ran out he took a stage coach.  When the stage line ended he trekked across the Texas desert in a dusty mule train until there was no more road, and then he proceeded to a remote village deep in the Sierra Madres on the back of a burro.

He had been sent to buy a silver mine in Chihuahua, and once he had the deed in his pocket he made it to the coast and sailed to San Francisco on a side-wheel steamship, and then headed back east on the Overland Stage, until he found a railroad again in Iowa he could ride to NYC.

It was a trip of seven months and 12,000 miles. His reward for eating so much dust was a new enterprise called the Batopilas Mining Company.


Robinson’s Adventures

With his characteristic focus and energy, Robinson worked the Batopilas silver mines in Chihuahua for seven years, even though all that labor turned up very little more than dirt.  They were not uneventful years, however, and his mining of adventure might easily rival the tales from Riley’s Narrative.

His stories could easily take the form of 19th century Dime Novels.


Robinson’s drama unfolds in the Sierra Madres, a mountain range known for its scorching heat, breathless altitudes, and rugged terrain where travel was common on trails above a 10,000 foot drop.

When Robinson took over the Batopilas operation, the Company worked 16 veins, all tightly packed in one hill, with 15,000 feet of narrow tunnel.  By the time he sold the operation, his miners reported they worked in a “cave big enough to hold a Cathedral.”



Robinson not only redesigned the Batopilas mine, but he completely reconfigured all aspects of the mining operation with a new railroad to the site, and reengineered dumping carts which he later patented.  Most important of his innovations, however, was the vigorous system of transporting ore from his mine to the processing plant without being stolen.  His silver was delivered by a small army who guarded against former U.S. Confederate outliers, Apache & Comanche warriors, and Mexican Bandits.

Perhaps Robinson’s greatest skills were diplomatic—negotiating with Mexican federal, state, and local power brokers.  Even so, his time in Batopilas overlapped with a Mexican Civil War.  Rebel bands occupied Batopilas in 1872, and took Robinson prisoner for ransom to pay for their Revolution.
 
By 1877, John Robinson imported rifles from the U.S. and actually took to the barricades with guards, defending the mines and his estate against both sides of the war.

When John Robinson was living in the Sierra Madres tending his silver mines, he traveled between towns on horseback in his customary black attire. He soon adopted the habit of wearing a broad brim hat as well, to keep off the sun.

Consequently, the neighboring Mexicanos and the indigenous locals assumed he was a priest.

He was continually being stopped on the mountain trails as they crowded around, no matter how many languages he used to explain.

He finally learned that to get through the crowds he needed a preemptive fending: as soon as they began approaching him, he raised his hand in a pontifical blessing and they all stood back and lowered their heads.

In 1868, John Robinson’s epic story turned a new page when the Batopilas mine suddenly paid off and became a bona fide Bonanza.  When he made the trip back to New York in 1873 to present a ceremonial pile of silver to his investors, J.R. Robinson was a wealthy man. Again.



Robinson’s Second Fortune

J. R. Robinson’s second fortune was the defining one.  His obituary in the Washington Post claimed he died “the wealthiest man in Maryland.”

The last chapters of his life had, perhaps, less adventure, but no less accomplishment.

After the Batopilas mine was sold he simply bought another chunk of mountain down the river, and from that mine extracted yet another fortune.

He spent his last years on the East Coast, first in New York, and later in Maryland where he built another landmark home.   It was called Llanndaff House, and, like Oak Hill Cottage, it is listed in the National Register of Historic Places because of its architecture, which was another perfect example of another American style of its age.

Llandaff House, dating to 1877, is regarded by cultural historians to be a fortunate example of the Queen Anne and American Shingle style of architecture. Robinson had it built near Easton MD, almost directly across Chesapeake Bay from Washington DC., and an easy train ride away from Wall Street in New York where he was well respected and affectionately known as “Long John.”

John Riley Robinson (1810-1892) Legacy

Most mines extract ore containing miniscule silver flakes or dust content that has to have a considerable amount of processing before enough can be extracted to look like anything lustrous you’d recognize as silver. Robinson’s mine had veins of pure silver as big as tree trunks. They literally cut it out like cordwood to ship to San Francisco.

In fact, if you get a U.S. silver coin minted between 1869-1874 with the S mint mark, it is entirely likely you are holding a piece of metal that came from Robinson’s Sierra Madre bonanza.

In addition to U.S. coins minted in San Francisco, Robinson’s mines provided metal for Mexican silver coins minted in Alamos from 1868-1872, and minted in Chihuahua from 1874 to 1876.

JR Robinson’s landmark home in Mansfield stood empty after he left for Mexico, until it was purchased by Dr. Johannes Jones in 1864, whose family lived there until 1965; whereupon it became the jewel of the Richland County Historical Society.

Oak Hill Cottage is maintained today and open for tours Apr-Dec and special events.




Thank You:

Images and information in this article come from many sources including the Richland County Historical Society, Marge Graham, Anka Hall, Richland County Chapter Ohio Genealogical Society, Susan Palsbo, Valerie Stubaus, Virgil Hess, and Alan Wigton.



NOTES:

John Robinson took a lot of mineral content out of Chihuahua, but he was careful to leave some behind as well, in the form of cast iron benches lining the Plaza de Armas at the Cathedral de Santa Cruz in Chihuahua City.



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