Cannelton (Old) (1,099) Built 1926
July 7, 2025
July 7, 2025
Have you ever built something up so much in your mind in anticipation, that you end up being disappointed when you finally get to experience it? I think everyone can relate to this at some point in their life. It can leave a really empty feeling. This hit me hard when I first went to college. That whole summer, I was so ready. I was feeling all the typical college freshman emotions. I wanted to get out on my own. I wanted to do things on my terms. My two high school best friends were going to Indiana Wesleyan with me, and I was just pumped. Then I got there, had to say goodbye to my girlfriend (now wife), cried, sat in my dorm room by myself, and wondered what the heck I was doing. I didn't feel free, I felt like I was floating out to sea and didn't have anything familiar to grab on to. My two high school friends and I had decided we wouldn't room together because we wanted to try and make ourselves branch out. I didn't want to branch out, I wanted to climb down the tree and bury myself beside the roots that were planted deep in my hometown. I cannot express to you how much I hated college. Eventually it got better. I made a couple other friends, I liked my education classes and professors, but it never clicked for me. I left every weekend that I could for four years, either for home or my girlfriend's college in Indy. Looking back, that time in my life still gives me a desolate feeling when I think about it. For most of those years I lied to people when they asked how I liked college because I didn't want to seem like a loser who couldn't handle being away from home. I don't think this is uncommon. I think we often even lie to ourselves when we're in these situations because we don't want to admit the big thing we were looking forward to is actually kind of a bummer.
I've felt this kind of disappointment more than once in my gym hunting quests. I've written about it many times on this blog. Walking into Eastbrook and seeing all the wooden bleachers replaced with plastic. Seeing the old murals in Blackford erased. Realizing the old stage at Manchester was replaced over twenty years ago. Seeing the empty trophy cases at Broad Ripple. Watching Elwood and Alexandria be turned into modern and soulless catastrophes. Wanting to scream when I walked into the old Barr-Reeve gym and saw how they mutilated it. And of course, the greatest pain of all, knowing that I live and teach in a town with the greatest high school gym of all-time, and not knowing if I'll ever get to see inside it. It all hurts. And yes it's just basketball gyms, not real life situations, but these things matter deeply to me. If they didn't, I wouldn't be writing hundreds of words about them every week. Two years ago in the fall when I decided to start this blog, I started combing through the Hoosier Hardwood Project's blog that they put out as they were crisscrossing the state in preparation for their magnificent book. I came across their post about their visit to Cannelton. The story of the old gym there fascinated me.
The gym was built in 1926, and sits in the upper half of a unique but picturesque old building. Below it actually once sat the old fire station for the town. This is definitely the only place that can say that. The Cannelton High School Bulldogs actually used the old gym until 1998 (coincidentally or maybe due to basketball fate, this was also the year of their last sectional title), much longer than most with a gym built in the 20s. It made a little more sense for Cannelton, they are the smallest public high school left in Indiana, averaging about 15 students in a class. A small historic gym fit the tradition of a town that holds tight to their roots. When a new gym was built at the high school (this one sits alone in town), the old gym slowly started to fade. When Kyle Neddenriep wrote his book around 2010, it looked like it was still in pretty good shape from the pictures, though even at that time it was known that repairs were needed. In 2017 when the Hoosier Hardwood Project fellows visited, the pictures still didn't seem too grim. Each time I looked at the photos, I just got more and more anxious and wanted to see it in person. It's the type of rare gym with a cool story that lights a fire under me. As I traveled the southern part of the state visiting other gyms, one question kept coming up from people when they learned what I was doing: "Have you been to Cannelton yet? That place used to be ELECTRIC." I had to go.
It took me long enough, but after almost two years I finally made the three and a half hour trip down south. Driving in, I was struck by two things. The first was how many unbelievably cool historical buildings the town had. I was in awe. I'm going to have to come back for a whole day just to explore the history of the rest of the town. The second thing was how desolate much of the neighborhood around the old gym looked. Many buildings and homes looked to be either abandoned and falling in on themselves, or holding on by a thread. It didn't take long for me to make the connection between the gym itself and the community in which it resides. Walking into the building, we had to make our way down through a maze of old rooms and hallways. There was clutter everywhere, it didn't look like any portion of the building had been touched in years. Finally we found a set of stairs that led upwards to the gym. Walking in, I felt that same heavy feeling I described earlier. The gym felt like something out of a sci-fi movie where an apocalyptic event has taken place and the protagonist returns home to assess the damage. From the water damage in the ceiling, to the damaged hardwood floor, to the bat droppings and broken bleachers, it was just a lot to take in. To be clear, I've definitely seen worse, but I think in those other cases I was prepared for it. Once I got over the initial shock, I was able to start to see past the haze of despondency and appreciate what I knew was there from past pictures. I was excited to come here for a reason. This place is special.
There is no other gym in Indiana that's designed quite like Cannelton. It is one of one in that regard. The way the old fire station below and surrounding rooms encapsulate it give it a unique look on the outside, and it is pretty distinctive on the inside as well. The roof of the gym is supported by big metal beams that are just ever so rounded, very similar to the old Oil Township gym that I visited this same day. There were two sections of bleachers on opposing sidelines, but one was torn down at some point to put in some batting cages. The bleachers sit under a roof that is much lower and juts out away from the center of the gym. The bleachers are the original retractable kind that form a neat slanted column when rolled up. They are stained a very dark brown and are made of thin slats which allow for spectators to see down to the depths below. This isn't a big deal since they only go up 9 rows. Above the bleachers on both sides are big, tall, rectangular windows that let in a bunch of natural light. This was crucial during my visit since the lights in the gym were not functioning. Sitting right inside the sidelines and in front of the bleachers are tall support beams that might partially block views of the action, but bring with them a great dose of nostalgia for an era when builders weren't too concerned about obstructed views.
The hardwood court was covered with so much dust when I visited that it was hard to get a good idea of what it would have looked like back when the Bulldogs were using it regularly, but I think it would have looked very sharp. It has a parquet design, but the squares are pretty small compared to other ones I've seen. It gives it a pretty cool look. At center court is a bulldog mascot emblem inside the half court circle. "Bulldogs" is written in pretty mustard yellow script right inside the sidelines. I really wish I could see it all polished up. The baseline ends both have a lot of features that stand out. The end from which we entered the gym features what used to be an old stage. The stage itself was taken out to the ground level at some point. In that area now is a little raised platform with a counter top and even a piano up on it. You could tell me this was used for concessions or even where the pep band resided and both would seem reasonable. I don't know exactly what purpose it served during games though. The walls on this end are painted black halfway up and then left white above. An old-timey scoreboard hangs above and to the right of the stage. The opposing baseline that exits to the historic front of the building looks pretty non-descript at first glance. The wall is painted the same as the other side. There is yellow padding along the bottom in the middle. Another old scoreboard hangs up high, though this one has the old school slots where you would raise the names of the players on each team and little lights would glow by them to indicate how many fouls each player had (Westview had these when I was growing up and I thought they were so cool). The great mystery of the gym lies just behind this wall though. Directly behind the hoop on this end is a little hole in the brick wall. It isn't seamless, someone clearly tore it out at some point. Behind it lies a little room that can be reached through a rickety staircase right outside the gym. I was able to view the gym from that room and the hole in the wall. I have no clue what purpose it served, or when it was created, but it is precisely the kind of oddity that makes these visits so fun.
I was able to explore a couple other areas with my guide before I left for the day. The old locker rooms and original coal furnace were neat to see, even though their current state matched the rest of the gym. I drove away feeling satisfied, but also with a twinge of melancholy. I realize now as I finish up this blog, that my original analogy about my college experience doesn't fit this gym visit perfectly. In that case, I truly felt disappointed and depressed. At the time, I could find no redeemable qualities in my college experience and it just wasn't what I had envisioned at all. My visit to the Cannelton gym left me disappointed yes, but that doesn't mean what I originally expected wasn't there. It was there, it was just covered in a half inch of dust and sat underneath a leaky roof. I think I was almost mourning a future for the gym that was playing out right in front of me. In Historic Hoosier Gyms, back in 2010, it was reported that the estimated cost to repair the gym might reach a million dollars. I'm sure that number has only skyrocketed over the last fifteen years as the gym has deteriorated more and the cost of everything has ballooned immensely. It's nearly impossible to see the city of Cannelton or the school system being able to do anything meaningful with it. It would have to be an outside group like what is currently happening in Medaryville to come in and save it. A guy can only pray I guess. I drove back out through the neighborhood that seemed to match the spirit of the gym. Like I said earlier, Cannelton as a whole has so much to offer in terms of history and unique places to check out, and I hope to do that some day when I have more time. This particular visit though, it was hard to see past what was right in front of me: an incredible old gym that didn't quite match the presuppositions I had built up in my own head, at absolutely no fault of its own.
