Griffin (550?) Built 1937
June 13, 2025
June 13, 2025
Natural disasters are a funny thing. Okay, funny probably isn't the right word. Engrossing maybe? People tend to have a twisted fascination with them. They're like a car crash you can't look away from, because even though you know the terrible devastation they may be causing, such extreme displays of nature just aren't something you see that often. So when they do come, it's hard not to be transfixed by them. I think this is especially true when it's extreme weather that you never experience personally in the climate you live in. Having grown up in Indiana, tornado videos don't do much for me. When you've seen one, you've seen them all it seems. On the other hand, flash flood and hurricane videos will keep me locked into social media for way longer than I care to admit. I just can't believe the power that a current of water can wield when it gets moving. I think it's different though when you experience it in person. The couple of tornadoes that hit close to my home growing up are still seared in my memory even though I was very young. I've also heard countless stories of the great blizzard of 1978 in Indiana. Tales of how animals would just walk right over their fences at the farm because the snow was packed so high, and how people had to shovel tunnels, not paths, just to make it from the back door to the garage. When you live it, it obviously becomes very real, very fast. I've noticed this sense has only heightened since I've become a parent. Now it's almost impossible for me to sleep at night when there's a possible tornado watch. All of a sudden I'm responsible for a lot more than just myself. The potential destruction becomes too much to just try and ignore.
In the worst-case scenarios, potential destruction becomes a reality. While fire is always the number one enemy of old gyms, we've had a few other cases of severe weather over the years that have impacted gyms. We've already covered the lightning strikes at Winslow and Swayzee. A storm hit the former gym at Jasper so badly they just decided to rebuild around a decade ago. A tornado essentially wiped out Taylor's gym around the turn of the century. Most recently, a tornado picked up half of Henryville's gym in what quickly became a viral video. Often though, the damage goes well beyond just the gymnasiums in a town. This was the case during the worst tornado ever recorded in Indiana: the Tri-State Tornado of 1925 that ripped through parts of Missouri and Illinois before it finally petered out in southern Indiana. In the articles following the storm, it was reported that Owensville, Princeton, and other Indiana towns were hit hard, but that the entire town of Griffin was destroyed. Not portions, or certain buildings, but the entire town. 25 people were killed. The high school in town was completely leveled along with pretty much every other structure. While I can't even imagine what it must have felt like to lose everything you owned in a matter of seconds, I also can't imagine the amount of fortitude and gumption it must have taken to start all over. The school was rebuilt on the same foundation and welcomed students back in early 1926. Slowly but surely, the town was rebuilt around it as well. In true 1920s fashion, when schools were often simply named after whatever the town was known for, their mascot became the Tornadoes. Maybe it was a symbol of their willingness to tackle their greatest challenge head-on. Their fear didn't overcome them, they conquered it. While the Tornadoes never quite brought home the ultimate sectional tourney prize, they still managed to produce good teams that won other coveted trophies, like the Posey County Tournament title. Many of these trophies are currently displayed in their gem of a gym that was built in 1937. It served as the home of the Tornadoes until consolidation struck in 1959. Its future was uncertain for a little while until it came under control of the Griffin Ruritan Club in the 70s, and has been serving the town as a community center ever since. My journey into the furthest reaches of southwestern Indiana brought me here on a blazing hot summer afternoon, and there was nowhere else I would have rather been.
The Griffin gym is setup in classic WPA 1930s style. You notice it immediately when walking up to the gym from the outside. The dark brown brick, the iconic terraced designs that work skyward above the roofline on the baseline ends of the gym. I'm not very good at describing architectural styles, but I just know it when I see it. Inside the gym, you walk into a little foyer that has oodles of Griffin High School memorabilia displayed. Old jerseys, letter jackets, photos, and more are hung everywhere. One of my favorite tokens from the past was an old basketball season schedule from 1948 with all the results penciled in. I always think it's neat to see the old schools that used to play each other (shout-out to Bone Gap, Illinois!). Through another door takes you into the gym itself. The first thing that struck me was the warm, red glow that seemed to encapsulate everything. I felt the same cozy vibe when I was at the old gyms in Spiceland and Middletown. It's hard to describe, but the reddish hue of the hardwood court seems to match the red that is splashed everywhere else in the gym. I just love it. I was also struck by how much of a bandbox the place is. The court runs a little narrow from sideline to sideline, and is also more than a few feet short of regulation length from baseline to baseline. The space between the out of bounds lines and the bleachers and walls is essentially non-existent. If you're driving hard to the basket, you better go straight up or brace yourself for impact, because you're going to hit something. I can only imagine what this place must have been like when filled to capacity. There wouldn't be room to breathe, much less move. Electric.
Today, there are only bleachers along one side of the gym. The permanent bench seats actually start back a few feet from the court behind a wide wooden step. The floor of the bleachers are painted grey while the seats themselves are painted black. They look very sharp. There are four rows in total. The brick wall behind the seats feature big sections of white backgrounds. On them are diagrams and sketches of the old gym and school building. In front of one is a large bookshelf of sorts exhibiting more Griffin memorabilia. It's a unique idea that works really well here. There are also vintage benches with cushions that sit behind the top of the bleachers. A little odd, but again, it works. Another old school quirk of the gym are the giant support posts that run the length of the sideline partially obstructing the view of spectators. They are wrapped with red cushions to ensure players don't concuss themselves hustling for a loose ball. The original scorer's table sits right behind one of these at center court. The opposite sideline used to mirror this one, but the bleachers were removed at some point to create some storage space for the community center and to build out a kitchen that can be used for events. It's easy to imagine what it would have looked like originally. Since the sideline bleachers kind of jut into the walls and have lower ceilings, there are original windows that line the upper walls right above the court, very similar to Freetown and Williamsburg. They've been covered up over the years. Each baseline end has a few features worth pointing out as well. On the end by the main entrance is a modest stage that takes up almost the entire wall. An old-timey scoreboard hangs up in one corner. The opposing side is pretty bare, but there are two more big exterior doors that lead outside of the gym.
I drove into Griffin from New Harmony after I made a stop by their old gym as well. In this part of the state, the Ribeyre Center is the iconic old gym. It looks like a literal chapel of hoops, it was used in a movie, and now it's a moderately famous wedding and event venue. While it was neat to see, it was definitely a little more glamorized than I was expecting. That was true for the rest of the town as well. While there's nothing wrong with that, I found myself being drawn more to what I found in Griffin. Basically everything in Griffin is along one long Main Street. Old churches, stores, and houses line it on both sides. Many buildings are occupied, some are not. There's a sense of grittiness to the whole place, and I don't mean that in a negative way whatsoever. You can just tell that resilient people live here. People who believe in picking themselves back up after being knocked down. This town was dealt a knockout blow in 1925, but they dusted themselves off and just kept going. I'm sure when the school closed in 1959, they probably felt like they had to fight back again, just like so many other small towns across the state that lost their schools to consolidation. It seems like they did just that. The Griffin gym is one of the few buildings that doesn't sit right on Main Street. It's in the far corner of town, just a few blocks away from it. Just a few miles away from the Wabash River and Illinois, it seems a bit miraculous that it's still here after all these years. It's still standing though, just like the people who have ensured its survival. I'm so thankful I stumbled upon it. Just like the memories of the tornadoes I lived through as a kid, the moments I spent inside the Griffin gym and driving around town will stick with me for years to come.
