An Ohio Earthwork Where Thousands Once Gathered for Celestial Observations and Religious Ceremonies Is Open to the Public

An earthen enclosure called the Octagon is drawing much-deserved attention to the state’s history-filled mounds built some 2,000 years ago by the Hopewell culture

Kevin Williams - Freelance writer

May 9, 2025

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For more than 100 years, golfers at the Moundbuilders Country Club in Newark, Ohio, teed off in the shadow of one of the world’s premier Indigenous treasures: the Octagon. An earthwork consisting of a 20-acre circle and 50-acre eight-sided expanse, the 2,000-year-old site once brought thousands of Indigenous Americans together. Centuries later, when European settlers arrived in central Ohio, they only vaguely understood the importance of the more than 10,000 earthworks in the region, before largely sacrificing them at the expense of industrialization and growth. Some sites remained, protected by federal statutes, and others remained largely hidden from public view.

But on the first of January, after a protracted legal battle, this section of the larger Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks, a newly christened UNESCO World Heritage Site, re-emerged to the public, after being part of a private country club for a century. And Native Americans rejoiced at connecting with a piece of their past. While the site is spartan now, besides the impressive Octagon itself, plans are in the works for an interpretive center and upgrades.

What it took to build the Hopewell Mounds

The Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks are collectively made up of eight mound sites scattered throughout central Ohio, and named after the Native community who lived in Ohio before the arrival of European settlers.

Some of the sites—like the Octagon—are enclosures, or walls leaving a courtyard-type space in the middle, while others are mounds. And they are not small—the Great Circle, also in Newark, has a diameter of nearly 1,200 feet and a circumference of more than 3,700 feet. Its walls rise as high as 13 feet.

“They were intentionally created to last a long time,” says Jennifer Aultman, chief historic sites officer for Ohio History Connection, of the earthworks’ walls. Everything, she says, was fashioned with care and deliberation. “[The Hopewell] were incredible soil engineers.”

The mounds were likely constructed over hundreds of years, culminating around 300 B.C. How long they took to build, archaeologists believe, depended on many variables, like how many people pitched in and whether the work was year-round or seasonal. But the soil used was strategic.

The insides of the mounds display a yellowish clay and the outside a brownish clay. “These were possibly important colors,” Aultman says. These soils would have been deliberately brought in from another area. “It wasn’t haphazard; it was a very intentional, symbolic color.”

Archaeologists unearthed artifacts at Hopewell sites in Newark during digs in the mid-1800s through the early 1910s. But since the sites came under the stewardship of Ohio History Connection in the 1930s, only two limited, surgical excavations meant more to understand structure than to unearth artifacts occurred in 1992 and 1994.

“We have found beautifully crafted ceremonial regalia made from raw materials that are special,” says Brad Lepper, senior archaeologist for Ohio History Connection’s World Heritage program. Lepper says those unusual raw materials include conch shells from the Gulf Coast, copper from southern Canada and obsidian from Obsidian Cliff in Yellowstone Park, illustrating the extent of the Hopewell culture’s influence.

“It was the center of a far-flung interaction sphere,” Lepper says, describing the Indigenous pilgrims who would arrive at Newark from far away to experience the northernmost moonrise every 18.6 years. Those spiritual occasions likely drew thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of religious pilgrims.

While today’s scientists can only speculate, Lepper notes the size of the mounds and enclosures.

“The Hopewell earthworks are huge. They cannot be intended to serve a local congregation. Therefore, I infer that people were coming to these earthworks from the literal ends of their world,” Lepper says, noting the Atlantic coast and Rocky Mountains. He says they brought with them offerings of special items from their homelands.

“They participated in building the giant earthworks and later came to worship there—particularly on special days, such as the northernmost moonrise, which was built into the architecture of the earthworks,” Lepper says.

For comparison, a gathering of Civil War veterans was held in the Great Circle during the 1870s, and 15,000 to 20,000 people crowded in to hear speeches and celebrate. Lepper says that is our only historical reference to how many people might fit inside the circle. The Octagon, at 2.5 times larger, could theoretically accommodate 75,000 within its walls.

The gatherings, which peaked around 300 C.E., would have had all the trappings of a large festival, like an Indigenous Woodstock with celestial observations and religious ceremonies in place of musical performances.

“These Hopewell Earthworks were the center of a continental religious movement,” Lepper says.

According to the archaeologist, the Octagon served as a sort of celestial calendar, marking the northernmost limits of the rising of the moon during an 18.6-year cycle. The Hopewell likely equated spiritual significance to these moon movements that align precisely with the Octagon.

The making and unmaking of the golf course

To understand how things got to where they are today in Newark, an industrial Rust Belt city of 50,000, one has to return to the turn of the 20th century. As the city began its industrial rise, some earthworks were razed, and factories were built over them. But locals never could quite get themselves to demolish the Octagon. While the sprawling geometrical shape is difficult to discern from ground level, locals knew it should be preserved. In 1892, they voted to raise taxes to help generate revenue earmarked for preserving the Octagon. While preservation taxes are relatively routine today, Aultman says Newark’s foresighted ordinance reflects the first recorded instance in the United States of such a levy.

Ohio's First UNESCO World Heritage Site: Hopewell Ceremonial Earthworks

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Even with the tax levy approved, the community didn’t know how to go about preserving the site. For some years, the Octagon was home to Ohio’s militia, a forerunner to today’s National Guard; during the summer, soldiers would erect tents and practice training exercises. While there, the militia restored some of the damage done to the earthworks by cultivation and modernization. But around 1907, they outgrew their quarters and decamped for Sandusky.

Some Newark residents wanted the Octagon to be a park. But golf was growing in popularity at the time and seen as a good use of the 50 acres inside the Octagon. So, in 1910, an agreement was made between the local Newark Board of Trade, which initially owned the land, and the then-fledgling Moundbuilders Country Club. Ohio History Connection assumed ownership in 1933. Over the years, the daily routine of golfers and golf carts damaged the mounds.

Glenna Wallace, chief of the Eastern Shawnee Tribe, compares the golf course to having a go-kart track at Arlington National Cemetery. The thought of golfers teeing off on an Indigenous sacred site every day grated Wallace. “I asked the same question: How did this happen?” she says. She is relieved to see the Octagon change hands. “It is long overdue,” she adds.

By the time the first English settlers arrived in Ohio country in the 1600s, 40 tribes lived in the area. The Shawnee Nation was a powerful and populous tribe in Ohio, but after being ejected by the federal government in 1831 for resettlement to Oklahoma, the ravages of disease brought the tribe down to below 80 members, according to Wallace. Every single tribe was removed. “And when a tribe is removed, they are removing the people. There were no voices, and no one chose to speak up,” Wallace says.

Some Shawnee presume that they are directly descended from the Hopewell culture’s mound builders. Yet, Wallace hadn’t heard of the Newark Earthworks until 2007, when she listened to John Sugden, biographer of Shawnee chief Tecumseh, speak at Ohio State University. It was also around that time that Ohio History Connection began petitioning UNESCO to add the Hopewell sites to its World Heritage List.

“I was just aghast and shocked,” says Wallace, who visited the Octagon shortly after hearing about it. “When I saw what I saw, I could not believe it. In all of the books I had read, there was no mention of Newark Earthworks and its use as a golf course. I left that day crying.”

But Wallace used her influence to nudge Ohio History Connection to do something, and in 2013, the nonprofit started negotiating with the country club to acquire the lease under eminent domain. Talks broke down, and the two sides ended up in court. Neil Thompson, public relations director for Ohio History Connection, notes that in May 2019, a county court judge ruled Ohio History Connection had the authority to acquire the lease and that the acquisition was both necessary and for a public use. That position was upheld by the Fifth District Court of Appeals before the case reached the Ohio Supreme Court on April 13, 2021.

On December 7, 2022, the Supreme Court of Ohio upheld the decisions by the lower courts, allowing Ohio History Connection to proceed with its efforts to acquire the Octagon Earthworks lease and provide full public access to the site.

A jury trial in the county court to determine the fair market value of the lease was scheduled to start in October 2023, but it faced multiple delays. The organizations kept talking, though, and agreed to settle for a confidential sum, averting a jury trial.

While the Shawnee were not involved directly in the litigation, they were crucial to keeping the pressure on.

“Chief Wallace was instrumental in convincing Ohio History Connection it had to happen,” Lepper says. “I don’t think we would have moved forward with such aggressive action. She was a driving force in pushing it forward.”

On January 1, over 800 people arrived for the public opening of the Octagon. Hundreds of people braved Ohio’s snowy winter to experience the earthwork. Clouds obscured the moon’s northernmost moonrise this March, but this fall promises some dramatic evening and nighttime moonrises.

The moon spends several months near its northernmost point—in a position so close to alignment at the Octagon that the average viewer doesn’t see the difference. Ohio History Connection held a special invitation-only nighttime viewing in October when the property was still part of the country club.

“The moonrise on this chilly night was breathtaking,” says Thompson, who was one of about 100 people present for the event. “It was a true shared experience among those in attendance, but the most extraordinary part was knowing that this similar experience had been shared by people in this same place 2,000 years ago.”

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Kevin Williams is an Ohio-based reporter. He writes for CNBC, the New York Times and Washington Post.