Samuel Walker was the last of 47 grandchildren born into an old Clinton County Quaker family, a farmer with an expansive nature that embraced the countryside. He heard of a clock in Philadelphia so big it took a steam engine to wind it, and he imagined one in Wilmington. So he offered one to go on top of city hall. There were four dials, each of them ten feet in diameter, and the bell itself weighed 4,000 pounds.

The contract said the bell had to be heard for at least three miles. The bridge company built the tower for Samuel Walker's clock and the salesman told Samuel it was the best clock in the world. All Samuel knew was that it was bigger than the one in the Washington Courthouse, which was enough for him. He knew it was a large idea and it would lead people to expansive thinking.

Down the street, Andy Wilson, the bank president, was building what he said was the tallest flagpole in the country. It was 175 feet tall, at the corner of Main and South, with a place for the town band to play at its base.

Soon, Charlie Murphy would build his theater next door. It had 1,000 seats in a town with only 5,000 people. "Charlie," said one of his friends,"that's not a good investment." And Charlie said, "It isn't an investment; it's a monument!"

The General Denver was next. One week, the Commercial Club discussed the town's need for a first-class hotel, and the next week, the members had raised $170,000.

It was a particular American turn-of-the-century way of thinking: Even people in small places could have large dreams and, better yet, make them into reality.

Samuel died at 82 and even death didn't stop him from his creations. In his will, he left $25,000 to build the Sameul Walker's Memorial Building, and the upstairs of it was to be the town library and Samuel's museum, to house farm implements, eggs, newspapers, and God knows what else.

The huge concrete footers were poured for the Samuel Walker Building in 1913. It was to be commercial space downstairs, and the library upstairs. It was a wonderful building, but by this time, Carnegie had offered the town his library, and so Samuels last idea was converted --- at least momentarily --- into a small bookshelf in one corner of the upstairs.

The building endured --- in our time, architectural historians said it was the finest example of its kind in Ohio --- along with the notion of grand things, which has been incarnated into GET FIT. Samuel Walker loved the town, and gave most of what he had to it.

His tradition lingers with the founders of this studio, Lorie and Jeff Greene, who will always continue the concept of Samuel Walker himself of; "Good Things Done Well."