Syracuse is known nationally for its winters. Last week it became the first city with a population of at least 100,000 to hit 100 inches of snow this season. And with that title comes plenty of salt.

Thanks to salt springs around Lake Onondaga, Syracuse garnered national recognition for its contributions to the salt industry in the 1800s. From 1797 to 1917, the Onondaga Salt Reservation produced enough salt to fill the Carrier Dome four times, according to a report from the United States Geological Survey. This massive output earned Syracuse a nickname, “The Salt City.”

The Salt City was prominent enough to instigate imposters — other cities across the country began to pop up with that same Syracuse name. Today, eight states boast a city named Syracuse within their borders, and a loose connection to central New York still exists. Most are minuscule in comparison to the near 150,000-strong city, but the paths that led to their creation aren’t all that different.

Syracuse, Missouri, is a 242-acre town in the state’s Morgan County. The U.S. Census Bureau estimated its 2015 population at a measly 170. Scan Google Earth and all you find are some houses and post office. It originally was named Pacific City because of its western endpoint position on the Pacific Railroad. But eventually it assumed the name Syracuse, taking after the New York version according to the State Historical Society of Missouri.

Along the famous Santa Fe Trail, which during the 1800s took travelers from western Missouri down to New Mexico, sits Syracuse, Kansas. Hamilton County’s seat, the town switched its name from Holidaysburg in honor of the Syracuse of New York, as reported by the Kansas State Historical Society.

And the list goes on — Indiana, South Carolina and Utah all contain their own version of the Salt City.

Courtesy of Lynne Brinker

Jim Oiler was born in Syracuse, Ohio, in 1945. His grandfather was a coal miner, a fact that’s helped him make sense of how the name Syracuse made its way south. Down through Virginia and moving west into Ohio, the migration path is clear.

“Anybody that traces their genealogy can pretty much find their family along that route,” Oiler said. “They were all following the mines.”

The small village of Syracuse, Ohio, is situated in the southeastern tip of the state along the Ohio River, and only twice has the census cited more than 1,000 residents. Founded by the Welsh and other European immigrants, it was built on the salt works and coal mines that provided a living to its inhabitants.

Although he’s lived a few miles away for years now, Oiler has only fond memories of growing up in Syracuse, Ohio. His family had no indoor plumbing. Their primary protein source came from the fish they caught in the river themselves. Luxury wasn’t what made it a special place for Oiler because, as he put it, you never miss what you never knew.

People walked pretty much everywhere they went. When his mother called him home for supper, the whole town could hear it because there weren’t the cars to cause noise pollution. Church bells rang out on Sundays, and baseball was the staple activity — five-time MLB all-star catcher Rollie Hemsley is the pride of Syracuse, Ohio. Everyone knew everyone, with Oiler likening the atmosphere to that of Mayberry, a fictional town from “The Andy Griffith Show.”

“It was more or less a utopian situation,” Oiler said while acknowledging the gravity of his word choice.

Oiler was positive in his description, and he came from the poorer side of town. Lynne Brinker was from the newer, richer end — she owned a pony growing up — but still shared the same sentiment.

“There was this fellowship between the people that grew up in the neighborhood,” Brinker, who is about 10 years younger than Oiler, said. “That feeling of going out and catching fireflies at night and swimming in the river, we weren’t really let run wild, but way more so than I let my children.”

That kind of life has faded now, though. Most of the town’s few establishments have closed. Brinker said she often worries the town won’t have enough money to open the public swimming pool she brings her grandchildren to every summer.

Courtesy of Lynne Brinker

But one building remains as a link to the years Brinker and Oiler cherish. The Syracuse Community Center, which used to be the town’s grade school, has hosted a “homecoming” event for the past six years, with Brinker and Oiler among those at the helm. A mixture of current and former residents, it’s Syracuse’s chance to mingle between generations and rekindle memories over a meal.

“We say the Pledge of Allegiance and sing the national anthem and open with prayer,” Brinker said. “It’s a very small-town, American gathering.”

The annual homecomings might be the last thread of the Syracuse, Ohio, that Brinker and Oiler cherish. Times have changed — and the same goes for Syracuse, Nebraska. But instead of fading away like Ohio’s Syracuse, Nebraska’s is growing.

Tomas Ortiz grew up in Syracuse, Nebraska, and returned 10 years ago after serving in the army. He wasn’t a fan of the direction his hometown was headed, and decided to do something about it. During the 2012 election cycle, he made sure everyone knew how to spell his name and ran for mayor as a write-in candidate. He won.

Ortiz took over a town that was founded in the 1850s with the hope of a salt industry as successful as the one up north. When it proved to be a bust, the town actually relocated a few miles away but kept the name. Over the years it served as a shipping hub along local rail lines. Now, Ortiz calls it a bedroom community — its centralized location in relation to some of Nebraska’s larger cities like Lincoln and Omaha makes it a desirable place to live when commuting to those cities.

To improve Syracuse, Nebraska, Ortiz had a mission of bringing economic development to a town of about 2,100 people. So far he’s overseen improved recreational and athletic facilities and the opening of both a multi-million dollar grain elevator facility and a truck stop. Next month they’ll break ground on a $30 million hospital. The local government went from being reactive to proactive, Ortiz said.

Ortiz also acknowledged the immigrant path that Oiler alluded to. He said often people brought along the names of wherever they originated from to remind them of what they were leaving behind on the east coast.

It’s just that now these places are making a name for themselves.

Published on February 21, 2017 at 11:22 pm

Contact: jtbloss@syr.edu | @jtbloss