FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 10

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

Although Barthen’s burros have had their brushes with celebrity, he said they are best-loved in the small towns.

He said little burgs out West, in the Southland, up in New England and down home in the Midwest turned out in droves for his braying showmen.

Along with Honey Pot, the audiences thrilled to donkeys with names such as Thunder Ball, Snuffy and Kilroy playing against burros called Beetle Bomb, Super Stupid, Rigor Mortis and Elvis.

Most of Barthen’s burros have two names -- a stage name and a farm name.

Donkey ball retirees Dingaling, who’s actually very smart, and Geritol, a very old, sweet and feeble burro, still welcome curious visitors who stop to pet them and feed them carrots.

www.donkeyball.com

Miami resident Wright is an Ohio native who lived most of his adult life within a half-hour drive from the tranquility of Bittersweet Burro Farm. He is a veteran writer and Pulitzer Prize nominee.

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 9

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

 

Barthen remembered that years ago, a Democrat on the rise from northeast Ohio was in search of a family pet that also served as the symbol for his party.

The young politico brought his wife and kids out to Bittersweet Burro Farm to survey some donkeys that Barthen had put up for sale.

“He sees this one in the meadow and he and his kids take a liking to it,” Barthen remembered with a sly grin. “Its name was Dopey, but I didn’t think that would be a good fit for a man who’d served as lieutenant governor. I was walking Dopey up the hill and only had a couple of minutes to think up a better name for him. I reached the man and his family and said `this is a fine animal, we call him Senator.’”

The man who bought Senator became a governor.

Barthen still has a snapshot of a youthful-looking Richard F. Celeste and family visiting the burro farm.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 23

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 8

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

The original Honey Pot was a gelding, but that didn’t stop the shaggy brown burro from having several “offspring.”

From time to time, a new mild-looking, but wild-performing burro would be added to Barthen’s traveling show.

Each would be christened Honey Pot.

“Hey, I’m a showman. I figured I had license to make up a few things along the way,’’ he said with wink.

Launching a whole troupe of Honey Pots wasn’t the only time Barthen played fast and loose with a donkey’s name to put food on his family’s table.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 22

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 7

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

Former Cincinnati teenage pitching sensation and longtime Reds radio broadcaster Joe Nuxhall got more than he bargained for from an ornery beast.

Barthen recalled that Nuxie, the “Old Left-hander,” had been given a gentle burro, but demanded a wilder animal so he could show off for the folks during a game in his hometown of Hamilton, Ohio.

“He never really stayed on the creature,” Barthen laughed.

Barthen also lays claim to having scouted, signed and displayed the most famous burro in all the land, Honey Pot.

In the stable, Honey Pot was one pathetic-looking long-eared galoot.

“He was sway-backed, pot-bellied, lop-eared and knock-kneed,” Barthen recalls.

Donkey ball players who picked Honey Pot for a gentle ride got anything but. Barthen said the creature was “300 pounds of pure dynamite.”

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 21

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 6

 A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

Barthen staged games of donkey basketball and baseball and held celebrity donkey races.

Civic groups, high school sports boosters, fire and police departments used the donkey games for fund raising.

Barthen usually accepted a percentage of the take as payment.

Donkey riders often included high school principals, small town mayors and other local celebrities known to the people gathered to watch the donkey ball games.

Sometimes national celebrities made jackasses of themselves on the backs of Barthen’s burros.

He said several Ohio State University football players earned their bruises flying off bucking burros.

Mike Tomczak, a former Buckeye quarterback and signal caller for several NFL teams during a decade-plus pro career, road a ducking donkey, Barthen said.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 20

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 5

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

Life as a donkey man required that Barthen be equal parts loving animal caretaker and outlandish carnival barker.

He said hour upon hour on the road driving to donkey ball games gave him time to think up slogans and promotions.

“The wheels were always turning,” said Kitty, Barthen’s wife of 50 years.

While Barthen was on the road for weeks at a time, Kitty was back at the ranch, raising their eight children and rounding up stray donkeys who wandered out of their pens.

On bright red burro transport trucks, Barthen billed the burro act as “Funnier Than a Circus” and “Wilder than a Rodeo.”

The trucks featured loudspeakers for Barthen and his crew to herald the arrival of his donkey show.

“I’d say `see Honey Pot – world famous comedy donkey. One of the roughest, toughest little donkeys in captivity.’ I tried to make it sound like Ringling Brothers was coming to town,” he said with a twinkle in his green eyes.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 19

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 4

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

A few dozen burros still graze the fields and live in a low-roof barn near the family’s ranch house on a hill.

Barthen’s son Pat, who lives across the street from the family homestead, operates Donkeys Unlimited, a business that rents well-trained, gentle burros for birthday parties, Nativity scenes and other events.

Frank Barthen concedes that burros can be ornery, but he confesses that he was at the root of much of their high jinx.

Barthen recruited burros that buck, duck and otherwise jostle their riders -- much to the cheers, jeers and laughs of donkey basketball crowds.

Bucker burros were called that because, well, they bucked.

That’s why riders wear helmets for protection.

Duckers are burros known to stop in a heartbeat and drop their chins to the floor, propelling shocked riders right over their big, silly burro ears.

Sometimes the duckers ducked on their own, sometimes they did it on cue from Barthen, who trained them to dip and duck.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 18

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 3

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

Barthen was born in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, which is just north of Eau Claire.

He came to Columbus at age 16 in 1942, looking for wartime work.

To his great disappointment, a heart murmur and flat fleet disqualified Barthen from military service.

He ended up working in a Pearl Harbor naval yard as his way of contributing the war effort during World War II.

By the time Barthen made it back to Columbus in 1947, he decided he wanted to become part of donkey basketball.

Barthen bought into Donkey Ball with his brother-in-law, Spicer, for $700 in `47.

Spicer died at age 85 in 1997.

One of his sons, Jack, has four donkey ball teams in trucks traveling the country and more than 100 burros at his ranch in Marengo, Ohio.

Although paralyzed on the left side and slowed by the effects of a severe stroke he had in late 1995, Barthen still helps tend to the house that donkeys built. 

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 17

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 2

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

“The donkeys bought the farm; they built my house; and they fed my eight kids. I owe it all to a bunch of jackasses,” the 73-year-old Barthen said from his living room, not even pausing to acknowledge the sound of braying burros in the distance.

His Bittersweet Burro Farm covers 45 beautiful rolling acres in Darby Township near Orient in Ohio’s rural Pickaway County, south of Columbus.

In the 1960s, 150 head of donkey roamed the picturesque family farm.

That is, the “donks” roamed the fields when they weren’t on the road, playing basketball.

Until he retired a few years ago, Barthen was the driving force behind Buckeye Donkey Ball Co.

Founded in 1934, Buckeye has always been based in central Ohio.

Barthen and his original partner, John C. Spicer of Columbus, took donkey basketball to all 48 continental states and parts of Canada.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 16

FOR THE LOVE OF DONKEYS -- PART 1

A TRIBUTE TO FRANK J. BARTHEN

Editor's note:

As Memorial Day nears, we would like to honor one of dearest, kindest  human beings we have ever met in our lives -- Frank J. Barthen. 

Frank passed away in 2010 at age 83. 

This interview, conducted a decade before, is preserved and published in its entirety as a Memorial to a dynamic man who cared very much about his donkeys.

By Steve Wright

Frank J. Barthen has been bucked, bitten, stomped and kicked by donkeys, yet he loves the long-eared, furry and braying creatures.

People from all corners of Ohio and beyond call him donkey man.

He lives on Burro Lane; introduces himself as a Doctor of Jackassology.

For more than half a century, Barthen’s life has revolved around donkeys large and small.

TRIBUTE CONTINUES TOMORROW -- MAY 15