By Andrew Berry
Before the age of industry, these Kentucky knobs and valleys were part of an ancient, primeval forest. Towering white oaks and American chestnuts shaded a rich understory. Passenger pigeons once darkened the skies, roosting in vast numbers among the treetops.
This was a land teeming with life. Bison trampled game trails worn into the hills. Wolves, bears, and cougars hunted the hollows. Streams ran clear, providing shelter for fish, salamanders, and other aquatic life. These forests weren’t just wild; they were abundant.
For decades, this rugged terrain served as a natural refuge even as settlers spread across Kentucky. Small farms appeared in the valleys, but the knobs remained largely forested and untouched.
That changed with the arrival of the railroad in the mid-1800s. New rail lines opened the region to heavy industry, making it possible to extract and transport iron ore and centuries-old timber from the hills to distant markets.
As mining operations grew, workers blasted apart sandstone and siltstone outcrops with black powder and dynamite to reach the red iron ore within. These scars remain today, visible along trails where shattered rock layers still lie exposed.
Iron ore was hauled downhill to charcoal-fired furnaces. To fuel these fires, the forest was clear-cut, its trees reduced to charcoal in kilns that burned day and night.
The 1850s and 1860s marked a period of intense extraction and environmental degradation.
Mining operations relied on harsh, dangerous labor. Some workers were enslaved, and others were desperately poor. Mules hauled heavy loads until they collapsed, and the glow of furnaces lit up the night sky.
During the Civil War, Confederate troops camped in these woods, adding conflict and fear to the region’s hardships. The forest, once a place of refuge, had become a landscape of exploitation and exhaustion.
A Hollow Holds Memory
Amid this turmoil, families still made homes in the region. The Jackson family settled in this very hollow, where Bernheim’s Tin Man sculpture now stands. Dora Jackson and his family cleared fields, built their home, and farmed the land. In their own way, they became stewards, working to survive and sustain their lives in the aftermath of mining and deforestation.
By the early 20th century, most of the farms had been abandoned. The hollows fell silent, waiting for a new chapter.
That chapter began with Isaac W. Bernheim.
A Vision of Restoration
Isaac W. Bernheim, a German immigrant and successful bourbon distiller, sought to give back to the land. In the 1920s, he purchased 13,000 acres of depleted forest and damaged hillsides with a dream of restoration.
Bernheim Forest was founded not just as a public park but as a living experiment in conservation and ecological recovery.
The early caretakers of Bernheim—forest managers and staff hired after Bernheim’s purchase—became the first dedicated stewards of the land. As early as 1930, they patrolled these knobs and hollows, including Wildcat Hollow behind the Tin Man’s meadow. They worked to repair erosion, encourage forest regrowth, and protect the returning wildlife.
Their work took decades, but the forest began to heal. Today, mature stands of white oak and tulip poplar rise over quiet trails, and wildlife has returned to once-barren hills.
Why the Tin Man?
So why is the Tin Man here?
While inspired by The Wizard of Oz, his symbolism in this landscape runs deeper. He is a figure of metal who longed for a heart. Here at Bernheim, he is also a reminder of the forest’s real history.
Forged of steel, the Tin Man incorporates the same iron ore once mined from these very hills. He represents both the power of industry and its environmental cost—the destruction of ancient cliffs, the loss of forests, and the toll on people who labored here.
But the Tin Man does not return as a conqueror. He returns as a guardian.
He stands watch over wildflowers planted to feed bees and butterflies, over restored wetlands that support frogs and dragonflies, and over hollows where bobcats and golden eagles still find refuge.
Bernheim’s Tin Man symbolizes the promise that even the most damaged land can recover when people choose care over exploitation.
The Forest Remembers
The forest still carries the memory of its past. Walk the upland trails and, with a careful eye, you can see evidence of blasted rock and old mining scars. Stand here on a quiet, moonlit night and imagine the roar of furnaces, the creak of wagons, the distant ring of pickaxes, and the sorrow of men and mules worked to exhaustion.
These hills remember. Yet they also show us what healing looks like.
Moss and leaf litter now cover the old wounds. Birds sing where smoke and silence once ruled. White oaks rise tall once again.
The Tin Man’s story is Bernheim’s story. It is one of extraction and loss, but also one of restoration, care, and hope.
A Living Legacy
At Bernheim Forest and Arboretum, you are invited to be part of that legacy. Protect what lives here. Learn its history. Care for its future.
Because it’s never too late to find a heart.
Thank you for visiting and experiencing Bernheim’s Tin Man.
