Two-and-a-half ton ‘Cannonball’ safe leaving county courthouse

To County Treasurer Debbie Hough’s office staff, the round-topped safe in her office is affectionately dubbed the “Cannonball.”

To Hough, it’s a two-and-a-half ton riddle.

What do you do with a two-and-a-half ton safe?

Well, one thing, you take apart Hough’s desk to get it out of her office. You also get some beefy guys to push it very carefully.

The Cannonball, which has been in the courthouse ever since it was built more than 100 years ago, likely won its moniker many years ago because of its round top, Hough said.

According to officials of Dieboldt, who will bring in a new safe that will replace the Cannonball, the round shape of the safe’s door was designed to keep Wild West safecrackers from breaking into it, she said.

The square safes with the square doors — like you see in all those B-grade cowboy movies — were found to be a little too susceptible to dynamite and other illegal ministrations, according to Hough.

“The round ones were supposed to be impossible to break into,” Hough said.

She said that experts from Dieboldt said the Cannonball probably was made more than a 100 years ago — when the Jessie Jameses and Butch Cassidys of the times made round safes handy.

But it’s that stout safety that makes the Cannonball — dare we say — unsafe.

Over the years, the Cannonball’s time-lock mechanism has become more cranky, making each use an adventure.

“I didn’t want to have to get rid of it during my term,” Hough said. “I had hoped to keep using it.

“... But they told us don’t put anything less than $5,000 to $6,000 in it because if we can’t open it, it wouldn’t be worth breaking it open,” she said. It would cost at least $5,000 to have a safecracker using specialized tools to drill into it.

With the commission’s permission, Hough decide to buy a new safe but has to move the old one.

At the request of the Franklin County Historical Society, the Cannonball will be put in the courthouse basement — if it’s feasible, she said.

“I’m thrilled they agreed to keep it with the courthouse if they can,” Deborah Barker, executive director of the Franklin County Historical Society, said.

There’s little information in historical records about the safe other than it’s been there as long as the courthouse has, she said.

However, buying a new safe is one thing. Moving an old safe is something else entirely different.

Because of the Cannonball’s weight, Dieboldt technicians had to find out where the steel structural supports in the courthouse’s main floor were located to avoid having it fall through the floor as it’s being moved, Darrell Wadkins, county buildings supervisor, said.

The best route requires that Hough’s desk be taken apart and removed, he said.

The movers also will lay down sheets of heavy plywood, covered with sheet steel, he said.

Then, three movers will start pushing.

“That’s going to be interesting,” Wadkins said. “It’s got wheels but they’re non-directional — they only go in one direction.

“And it’s real heavy.

“What’s more, it’s real top-heavy and you have to be careful it doesn’t go over.”

Huffing and puffing the Cannonball through the door is the easy part. One doesn’t lift a two-and-a-half ton safe and carry it down the long front stairs on the western side the courthouse.

Instead, the movers will push the safe to the edge of the stairs and use a a large crane to lift it, Wadkins said.

If it’s not too difficult, the crane will ferry the Cannonball to the eastern side of the building, where there’s a handicapped-accessible entry into the basement, he said. That’s if the safe can be negotiated around the sharp turns leading to the basement doors.

If that isn’t possible, the safe company will keep the Cannonball, he said.

However, what happens to it becomes another riddle, Hough said.

According to what Dieboldt officials told her, the safe is so heavy and strong that it would cost too much to cut it apart and sell it in the scrap metal market — even with the higher prices for metal, she said.

“They really can’t do anything with it,” Hough said. “Someone told me they push them outside and leave them. Like lawn art.”