You probably remember Johnny Appleseed as a sweet, barefoot guy who planted apple trees and sang to birds. A wholesome little frontier Disney prince with a pot on his head.
But the real Johnny Appleseed?
Absolutely unhinged in the best possible way.
His name was John Chapman, and he was born in Massachusetts—but he spent most of his life roaming Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Indiana, planting apple orchards across the frontier. Only he wasn’t doing it for snacks or school lunches.
He was planting cider apples.
As in: booze.
Wait a minute…did you say booze?! I thought this was a children’s story!
Back then, most apples weren’t meant for eating. They were small, sour, and practically inedible. But they were perfect for fermentation—and hard cider was the drink of choice on the American frontier. Safer than water. Easier to make than beer. And much cheaper than whiskey.
Chapman would scout land ahead of westward settlers, plant a nursery, and then come back years later to sell or lease the trees. It wasn’t just charming—it was genius. He used Ohio’s 1792 land grant system to legally claim those orchards, essentially squatting his way into a successful business with zero overhead, no horse, and barely any shoes.
He was described by contemporaries as kind, eccentric, and barefoot 24/7—even in winter.
His clothing was often tattered, and he was rumored to wear a coffee sack with holes cut for arms, and yes, a tin hat that doubled as his cooking gear.
He refused to harm animals, even insects, and often slept outdoors under the stars. One account says he even refused to graft apple trees (a common practice to improve fruit quality), believing it was a kind of botanical cruelty.
He also refused to marry, calling it against his faith. He belonged to a radical Christian sect that believed the Second Coming of Christ was imminent, and that celibacy, compassion, and living in harmony with nature were essential preparations.
His faith informed many aspects of his strange life—He even refused to ride a horse because he believed it was too burdensome for the animal, traveled through the frontier without any weapons, and pretty much never wore shoes.
He also spent much of his life spreading this gospel—alongside literal seeds—reading from his Bible to families and strangers across Ohio.
So why do we think of him as a cartoon?
Because a few decades after his death in 1845, the temperance movement started scrubbing the alcohol out of his legacy.
The FBI even destroyed many of his orchards to stem the flow of cider apples during Prohibition.
They remade Chapman into a gentle, apple pie–loving mascot for clean living—ignoring the fact that he spent his entire life low-key running a cider startup from the woods.
But make no mistake:
Ohio's favorite barefoot botanist was a bit of a rebel. A walking contradiction. Part evangelist, part eccentric, part early real estate investor. And he left behind hundreds of orchards—some of which survived over 100 years, and he died a wealthy man although he never indulged in that wealth.
In fact, there are still places in Ohio where trees from his nurseries once stood, and you can visit several museums and parks dedicated to his legacy today.
👉 Want to walk where Johnny walked?
🌳 Johnny Appleseed Educational Center & Museum – Urbana, OH
🍎 Johnny Appleseed Memorial – Dexter City, OH
🍏 Johnny Appleseed Historic Byway – a scenic 30-mile route near Mansfield
🍎 5 More Weird Facts About Johnny Appleseed You Probably Didn’t Know (but one of them is made up…)
I included five of the weirdest (and truest?) things ever said about Johnny Appleseed... but one of them is a lie…see if you can guess which one (without cheating!):
He had a pet wolf.
According to multiple legends, Johnny once rescued a wounded wolf pup, nursed it back to health, and it followed him for years like a loyal dog. Yes—Ohio’s barefoot apple man had a literal wolf sidekick.He went to great lengths to save mosquitos.
One tale claims he noticed that mosquitos were flying into his fire and dying, so he did what anyone would do (probably) and doused the fire.He only ate apples and leaves for the last ten years of his life.
He was so utterly pacifist and obsessed with nature that he resolved to eat only what he had grown to minimize his impact on the natural world around him.He was basically feral, but everyone loved him.
Despite showing up to cabins looking like a wild man (dirty, barefoot, talking to animals), frontier families would welcome him in like an old friend. He was weird—but deeply kind.One of the trees he planted is still alive today.
Maybe it’s his nearly supernatural dedication to his mission that did it, but even though apple trees usually only last about 45-50 years, one of his trees is still alive and producing fruit today.
👉 Think you know which fact is fake?
I’ve decided that each week I’m going to feature one weird, wonderful, or deeply underrated place in Ohio—and I’m not telling you what it is here.
You’ll have to click to find out. 😏
👉 This week’s hidden gem might involve ghosts. Or goats. Or pie. I’m not saying. Just go look:
