Jim Gindlesperger to Laurel Highlands Historical Village Inc NP
Each day since last August I have been posting something positive about Johnstown, hoping to counteract some of the negativity we all see from some local folks. Yesterday Ron Shawley contacted me and asked if I could post them to this site. I agreed to do that, and if you’ve seen these on other sites, this is why I’m posting them again. I will be posting daily here for the next several months. Thank you, Ron, for the opportunity to do this.
To start things off I am posting today about one of Johnstown’s best kept secrets – the Ponas Doll Museum. Our city is blessed with a number of excellent museums, and this local gem seemed like a good one to launch this project.
The Ponas Doll Museum is housed in the Goldhaber-Fend Fine Arts Center on the campus of the Community Arts Center of Cambria County, located on Menoher Blvd. The museum includes nearly 900 dolls of all types, some as old as 100 years or more. The collection was owned by Movene and John Ponas and was donated to the Arts Center in 1987 in honor of their daughter Marcia.
The dolls are arranged into 9 categories: Antique Handcrafted, Barbie, Bridal, Hummel, Norman Rockwell, Porcelain, Precious Moments, and Reproduction.
The collection is on permanent display and admission is free. It is open during regular Arts Center hours.
If you or your children haven’t seen this excellent collection, you owe it to yourself to put this on your bucket list. (Next topic: Johnstown- the race horse).
Today’s Johnstown feature is not about a special place to visit, or anything historical. It isn’t even about a famous person from the area. Today I’ll be posting about a horse. A horse named Johnstown, to be more specific. And not just an ordinary horse. Johnstown (the horse, not the city) was one of the best racehorses of all time.
Foaled in 1936 at the famous Claiborne Farm in Kentucky, the bay horse was purchased by William Woodward, Sr. for Belair Stables and was trained by the legendary trainer Sunny Jim Fitzsimmons. Johnstown began his racing career as a 2-year-old and won seven of his first 12 races. This record made him a favorite for the 1939 Triple Crown.
At the first race of the Big 3 of racing, the Kentucky Derby, Johnstown was an overwhelming favorite at 3-5 odds. He got off to a slow start but gained the lead at the 1-mile mark and never looked back. Under jockey Jimmy Stout, Johnstown breezed to an 8-length win over Challedon to tie the 25-year old record set by Old Rosebud in 1914 for largest margin of victory. The record has been tied three more times but never broken, and Johnstown’s name remains on the record books at Churchill Downs.
A muddy track greeted Johnstown at the start of the second leg of the 1939 Triple Crown, the Preakness. The track proved to be too much for the favorite, and Johnstown lost his chance to become the Triple Crown winner by finishing fifth. The winner was Challedon, the horse Johnstown had defeated so easily a few weeks earlier. The stage was set for a head-to-head confrontation at the Belmont Stakes, but Challedon was not nominated for entry and racing fans were deprived of the opportunity to see the matchup. Again, Johnstown won easily, taking two of the three races that comprised the Triple Crown.
Having won 14 of his 21 races, Johnstown retired to the Claiborne Farm, where he sired 145 winning foals, including the great Nashua. Johnstown died in 1950 and was buried at Claiborne Farm. He was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1992. In 2005 a panel of experts named Johnstown as Number 73 among the 100 top race horses of the Twentieth Century.
The photo shows him at the winner’s circle at the 1939 Kentucky Derby. (Next topic: Stackhouse Park – What is the origin of the name?)
Most people who live in Johnstown have either been to Stackhouse Park or know of it. The park consists of 277 acres of natural beauty, with 14 trails used by hikers and casual walkers, not to mention runners, dog walkers, cross country skiers, picnickers, bird watchers, students, and wildlife lovers in general. It is not uncommon to see turkeys, deer, and even the occasional eagle or bear. One of the features of the park is a natural amphitheater that serves as the home to the Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company, known for their popular Shakespeare in the Park presentations in summer months.
But what about that name? What’s a Stackhouse, anyway? Or more appropriately, the question should be, “Who was Stackhouse?” The park’s namesake was Powell Stackhouse, a prominent Johnstowner of the second half of the 19th century. Stackhouse was a Philadelphia native who moved to Johnstown in the 1850s, taking a job with a division of Cambria Iron Works. When the Civil War broke out he enlisted in the Johnstown Zouave Cadets, which eventually split into parts of companies in both the 3rd Pa. Infantry and the 54th Pa. Infantry. He rose to the rank of major in the 198th Pa. Volunteers and served throughout the war. As part of this regiment. Stackhouse would have taken part in several engagements of the war, including the Siege of Petersburg and Robert E. Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. His photo appears with this post.
At war’s end he became president of the Mahoning Ore and Steel Company and the Penn Iron Mining Company, as well as the First Vice President of the American Iron and Steel Institute.
The land that would eventually become Stackhouse Park was privately owned until it was acquired by the Cambria Iron Works, which eventually became known as Bethlehem Steel. The land was deeded to the city in 1931 with a stipulation that the park could never be timbered for profit or developed in any way, ensuring that the park as we know it today will remain the same.
In the mid-1930s the Civilian Conservation Corps made several improvements in the park, including trails, roads, pavilions, restrooms, and bridges. Unfortunately, the park was neglected for many years after the CCC left, and with no restrictions to vehicular traffic, it became a dumping ground and the park’s purpose as a place of enjoyment for the people slowly faded away.
In the 1980s a group of concerned citizens organized Stackhouse Park, Inc. The park was gradually restored and today is once again one of the outdoor gems that Johnstowners are privileged to enjoy. (Next up – UPJ Heroes Memorial)
Photo credit – Eugene Glenn Stackhouse (Powell Stackhouse photo)
Today’s bit of Johnstown information discusses another one of those places you may have heard about but haven’t seen. Tucked into a grove of trees on the UPJ campus, between the Whalley Memorial Chapel and Krebs Hall, sits the sobering Heroes Memorial, a tribute to our fallen heroes.
The memorial contains more than 9,000 names, including the names of those killed in the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, as well as the names and ages of our troops killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Another 46,000 names of those wounded in Iraq and Afghanistan are also included. The inclusion of the ages of those killed serves as a reminder that most of them were the ages of the students who pass the memorial every day. The memorial itself is believed to be the only memorial of its kind on any college campus in America.
A unique centerpiece of the memorial is a steel beam from the World Trade Center. Johnstown is one of only a few cities to have two beams from the deadly attack, with the second located in Cambria City, at the corner of 5th Avenue and Cambria Place. It is shown in the final photo.
The UPJ memorial was dedicated on Veterans’ Day, November 11, 2011. It is the site of the university’s annual Veterans’ Day ceremonies.
The memorial is easy to find, there is plenty of parking nearby (be sure to use a visitor’s space), and it’s a great photo opportunity. Stop by and pay tribute to those who have paid the ultimate price.
(Tomorrow – the Stone Bridge)
The Stone Bridge is a favorite photo spot for locals and visitors alike, especially for the evening light shows. Unfortunately, the bridge has a deadly past, making it much more than just a pretty lighting display, although it certainly is that.
In 1889 the bridge carried the man line of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Even today the bridge serves a similar purpose, with dozens of trains passing across every day. The bridge was destined to play a major role in the 1889 flood. By the time the water reached the bridge the torrent was carrying an estimated 100,000 tons of debris, along with countless citizens floating on whatever they could grab. Some were clinging to rooftops of floating houses, others held on to trees that had been uprooted by the force of the water.
The bridge served as a collection point, with the rubble blocking all the archways and trapping those riding the debris. A witness said there were thousands of screaming victims trapped in the wreckage. While that figure is probably too high, there certainly would have been a significant number, probably in the 500-600 range. Photos of some of that debris can be seen with this article.
What happened next is not known for sure. There are several theories. A wood stove from one of the floating houses may have tipped over, or possibly a railroad lantern. Maybe even a piece of hot metal from the Cambria Iron Works became lodged in the mountain of debris. How it happened isn’t important. What is important is that the pile caught fire.
Panicked crowds along the river bank watched in horror as those trapped began a fight for survival. Some victims broke free and were able to reach safety, others received help from those on the shoreline. Miraculously, most of those who had been caught in the pile managed to get away from the burning debris, but an estimated 75-100 had escaped the raging flood waters only to be burned to death at the Stone Bridge. The fire was still burning the next day. It would take several months to clear away the deadly pile.
A few years ago the Stone Bridge Lighting Project was launched. More than $1,000,000 was raised to install programmable LED lighting, and the attraction has become a nightly drawing card for locals and visitors alike. Gathering along adjacent streets, at the Inclined Plane observation deck, or in nearby Point Park (my favorite vantage point), spectators are treated to a light show for about 30 minutes to kick off the evening’s display. That is followed by a static arrangement of color combinations, usually dedicated to a holiday (red, white, and blue on July 4, for example), or an event (black and gold for the Steelers playoff games), or in support of a cause (such as pink for breast cancer awareness). In Spring, the colors of local high schools are featured for proms and graduations. The lights can even be rented by individuals to celebrate weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, or other special occasions.
If you haven’t seen the lights yet, you may want to consider it some evening when you complain that there is nothing to watch on TV. Those who have been here will advise you to bring a camera. But while you are there enjoying the display, remember that you are looking at a place that played an important part in our city’s history. Please take a minute to remember those who perished at that very location. (Coming tomorrow – the President Roosevelt monument)
Black and white photos credit – National Archives
The winter of 1935-36 had been a rough one in Johnstown, with heavy snows and low temperatures. Snowpack still lay deep on the mountains surrounding the city. Temperatures rose in mid-March, and the rains came. Just a light drizzle at first, then more heavily, until it seemed as if the rain would never stop. Most of us who live here today will recognize that kind of rain.
The rivers began to rise, reaching flood stage on March 17. But they didn’t stop there and continued to rise at the rate of 18 inches per hour. Citizens scrambled to get their belongings to the higher levels of their homes. Merchants did the same at their places of business. Then, shortly after midnight on March 18, 1936, the waters began to recede, even though the rains continued at a lesser rate.
Records show that the water levels in Cambria City actually had reached more than a foot deeper than they had during the 1889 flood. The difference was that the water did not back up at the Stone Bridge (see yesterday’s post). But the city had not really been spared. The combination of heavy rain and warmer temperatures that melted the snowpack had done their deadly work.
Nearly $41,000,000 in damage had taken place. The death toll reached 25, some from drowning, others from heart attacks. The Red Cross estimated that 9,000 were now homeless. Then, a cruel rumor broke out: the Quemahoning Dam had given way. The understandably jumpy citizens made a panic-stricken rush for higher ground as sirens wailed.
Gradually, an unsteady calm began to sink in, as the rumor was slowly discounted. Over the following days news stories resulted in an outpouring of support from around the world once more. Sightseers were banned from the city, liquor stores were ordered to close, and special passes were required to be out in the streets. The military arrived, along with the State Police, and order was surprisingly well maintained.
In the aftermath, the state legislature implemented a 10% tax on alcohol, with the proceeds to be used to rebuild Johnstown. This held true for a few years, but since the 1940s none of that money has come to the city. Instead it is placed in the state’s general fund, although the tax is still on the books as the Johnstown Flood Tax.
Also eager to help, the Works Progress Administration (WPA) said that all public property damaged or destroyed by the flood would be repaired or replaced at no cost to the city. The Secretary of War, George H. Dern, surveyed the area with General Edward M. Markham, Chief of Army Engineers, after which both assured local residents that flood control measures were going to be expedited.
On August 13, President Franklin D. Roosevelt came to Johnstown. Speaking to a crowd of 20,000 at Roxbury Park, the president made a speech that gave the citizens hope. The federal government was going to do everything necessary to make sure that Johnstown never experienced another flood. He authorized the Army Corps of Engineers to channelize the rivers, at a cost of $8.7 million, to increase the capacity of the rivers to prevent future flooding. The concrete river channels that we see today were the result.
Today a small monument marks the spot where Roosevelt stood to make his speech at Roxbury Park. It is located along the roadway midway between the tennis courts and the Bandshell. The photos show that monument. (Tomorrow: the Rolling Mill Mine Disaster).
Mention disasters and Johnstown in the same sentence and the listener will almost invariably think of floods. Unfortunately, the city has experienced more than its share of tragedies, and even more unfortunately, many of them are no longer remembered by most people.
One of those was the Rolling Mill Mine disaster. The Rolling Mill Mine was owned and operated by the Cambria Iron Works and produced coal for the steelmaking industry in Johnstown. Started in 1856, by 1902 it was producing more than 3,000 tons of metallurgical grade bituminous coal every day.
Just before noon on July 10, 1902 a mixture of methane known as firedamp erupted in a violent explosion. Almost instantly seven miners, most of them central European immigrants working in what was known as the Klondike section, were killed. As the survivors rushed to the nearest portal several miles away, they were overtaken by another deadly gaseous mixture known as afterdamp, which asphyxiated 105 more.
Despite the 112 deaths, the mine reopened four days later, as the local immigrant community called for greater safety precautions. It would continue operating for 29 more years when the mine, then known as Bethlehem Mines Corporation’s Mine 71, had been “worked out” and it was determined that the little coal that remained was not feasible to mine.
Portals were all sealed, one of which can still be seen along the James Wolfe Sculpture Trail along the hillside below the Inclined Plane. (If you go to see this portal, DO NOT ENTER. It is unsafe). The disaster remains one of the deadliest in U.S. history. (Photo credit – Pittsburgh Dispatch and the Library of Congress).
Tomorrow’s topic: The Oklahoma House
In my haste to get this morning’s post up, I posted yesterday’s post again. My apologies. Here’s today’s.
If you’ve been to the Flood Museum, or even if you’ve just driven past, you may have noticed a small wood frame structure sitting off to the side of the building, at the corner of Washington and Walnut Streets. That structure is not a storage building. It is a building with great historical significance known as an Oklahoma House. Few remain anywhere, and Johnstown is lucky to have one.
Oklahoma houses, as the name suggests, were originally built for homesteaders in the Oklahoma Territory. They came in two sizes, 16’ x 24’ and 10’ x 20’, and they were an early example of manufactured housing. At a standard height of 1’1/2 stories, it is easy to see how cramped they would have been.
How did an Oklahoma House end up in Johnstown. Well, at one time there were as many as 400 of them here, because they became emergency temporary housing after the 1889 flood. Unfortunately, the houses were not insulated and therefore were not well suited for the winters we have in this area, but they did provide shelter for many families who had lost everything to the flood waters. It was not uncommon for families to stay in the houses for as long as two years or more.
This particular house was not just built for display. It actually stood in what is now the historic Moxham neighborhood for many years. It sat on a lot that was actually the yard of a larger residence that had been acquired by Habitat for Humanity. The tiny structure sat unobtrusively until its porch caught fire. Then, it was discovered to have historical significance, and Habitat for Humanity donated it to the Flood Museum.
Once on museum property, renovations were begun, including a new wood shingled roof, replacement of several missing or rotted clapboards, and complete scraping and painting. Much of the work was done by volunteers.
Today the house stands as mute evidence of the hardships that continued long after the flood waters receded.
Today the Jennerstown Speedway is a state-of-the-art track for motorsports, with a polymer based asphalt track surface and computer-designed banked turns, but it wasn’t always so modern. It began in the 1920s as a half mile oval dirt track, like most tracks were, and was perfectly flat, with no banked turns. Known then as the Jenners Fairgrounds, it hosted ‘big car’ races (today’s sprint cars) and attracted all the top local drivers.
In 1953 a smaller, quarter mile, track was built on the infield, and the larger track was abandoned until 1967, when it was rebuilt and used only for a short time before it was closed again, blaming poor track conditions. During this time the track featured outlaw and Penn Western Racing Association sanctioned races.
In 1967 local businessmen John Frambaugh, Sam Turrillo, Bill Philson, John Philson, Doc Whitney, Harry Horne and Piney Lasky purchased the grounds and completely rebuilt the track. It was quickly recognized as one of the fastest half-mile dirt ovals in the nation, and for the next 20 years it hosted top-notch winged open wheel sprint car and dirt late model races.
Eventually, Laskey remained as sole owner. At that point the track was upgraded with paving, bringing asphalt racing to the area. By then, the old Heidelberg Raceway had been demolished, making Jennerstown the main asphalt track in Western Pennsylvania. At the same time, Laskey improved the concession areas and the grandstand, affiliated the track with NASCAR, and brought in major sanctioned events. When he died unexpectedly in 1994 his son Stanley, Jr. took over for the next five seasons. In 2000, Stanley sold the track to the speedway’s late model champion Steve Peles and Bob Brooks, founder of Hooters.
Peles and Brooks kept the track for only three years, selling it in 2003 to Dave Wheeler. Wheeler repaved the track in 2004 with a $350,000 polymer-based racing surface, and Jennerstown hosted NASCAR sanctioned races until 2008, when the track closed and remained closed until 2013.
A track Hall of Fame opened in 2005 with the induction of six members. Another class of eight was honored in 2006, with inductions suspended when the track closed in 2013. There were no inductions until 2014 after the track reopened, and today there are 40 inductees.
In early 2019 Wheeler sold the track to the partnership of John Morocco, Richard Pologruto, and Larry Hemminger. Races have been run on a regular schedule since then, and are set to begin for the coming season on April 17.
The photos show what the speedway looks like today compared to what it looked like several years ago.
Tomorrow: Larry Walton
Photo credits: Jennerstown Speedway
Although he isn’t originally from the Johnstown area (he was born in Hummelstown on June 9, 1973) Chris Villarrial played his college football at IUP, then played in the NFL, then came back to the area and began a coaching career. That makes him enough of a Johnstowner to merit this post.
When he came to IUP he redshirted his first season, then became a reserve nose guard when he began his college career. Midway through his first season he switched positions, becoming an offensive right tackle. The move proved to be a good one for him, as he was named All-Conference and All-American in each of his sophomore, junior, and senior years. He was part of the IUP team that played for the Division II National Championship in 1993, and in 1996 he was awarded the Jim Langer Award for being the best lineman in Division II. His jersey has been retired by IUP.
In 1996 he was invited to participate in the NFL Combine for prospective draftees. There, he set a new record for the Combine Bench Press. NFL coaches and general managers immediately took notice, and he was drafted in the fifth round by the Chicago Bears.
Villarrial would go on to play the next six seasons with the Bears and was named All-Pro twice. He was also named to the “All-Joe” Team, an award dreamed up by USA Today sportswriter Larry Weisman. It was named for Joe Phillips, who played in the NFL for several teams for 14 years and is meant to honor those who play in the trenches, the thankless positions that get little or no recognition. Weisman said he wanted to provide some recognition for the guys nobody notices but who make the star players look good. He even coined the All-Joe motto: “If you work hard, good things will happen … to someone else.”
Villarrial fit that role perfectly. As a blocker, he paved the way for a 1,000-yard rusher each year for the Bears. In 2001 he and his linemates allowed the fewest sacks in the NFL. Despite the anonymity that goes with being an offensive lineman in the NFL, he received the Golden Bear Award, given to the rookie who has perfect attendance in the weight room.
He became a Buffalo Bill in 2004, where he continued the streak he had started in Chicago, opening holes that allowed a 1,000-yard rusher every year he was with the Bills. He was also on the line that gave up the fewest sacks in Buffalo franchise history. He retired from the Bills in 2006, ending a professional career that lasted 11 seasons. Over those 11 seasons he started 148 games.
After retirement he came back to the Johnstown area, taking a job as the offensive coordinator for Central Cambria High School. There, he developed a successful strength and conditioning program for the Red Devils and led the team to two consecutive district title games. Perhaps more importantly, he helped 13 players continue playing at the collegiate level.
In 2009 he moved up to the collegiate coaching ranks, taking on the role of offensive coordinator at St. Francis. The next season he stepped up to the head coaching position. The Red Flash had not been especially impressive in Division I football, and Villarrial knew what he was getting into. His first season as head coach saw St. Francis struggle to a 1-10 record. Six years later he had the team in the FCS playoffs.
He remains as head football coach at St. Francis, where he now is the winningest coach in the school’s history.
Tomorrow: Jennerstown Speedway
Photo credits: St. Francis University
It was about 3:00 am on February 18, 1947, and the fog was heavy that morning. Pennsylvania Railroad Train No. 68, better known as the Red Arrow, had just passed Gallitzin and was more than an hour behind schedule on its way from Detroit to New York. Passenger rail service was typically heavy in the 1940s, and the Red Arrow was no different. The passenger load included recently discharged servicemen, performance troupes, postal workers, and of course, families. All told, there were 238 passengers; 23 porters, chefs, and waiters; 10 clerks from the United States Railway Mail Service; two enginemen; two firemen; and a flagman, brakeman, and conductor.
The Red Arrow was one of the PRR’s prestigious “Blue Ribbon Flyers,” trains that had such outstanding records for punctuality and service that they had led to the railroad’s proclaiming itself the Standard Railroad of the World.
In an effort to make up some time, the engineer had increased his speed on a straight section of track. He wasn’t concerned. He had done it many times before, as did most engineers. Soon he was traveling at an estimated 65 miles/hour, fast enough that a fireman on a freight train that had stopped on a nearby siding commented to a co-worker about it. The speed limit through the area was 35 miles/hour.
Pulling 14 cars, the Red Arrow passed through the Mainline, so called because it contained four parallel tracks. It emerged from the New Portage Tunnel at the east end and began descending a one-mile downhill slope known as The Slide.
When it reached what was known as the Bennington Curve, where the speed limit was decreased to 30 miles/hour, a car derailed. The derailed car pulled other cars with it, and 11 of the 14 cars were either derailed or partially derailed, with most of them careening over an embankment and down into the hollow below. The lead engine overturned and slid on its left side about 405 feet, a later investigation would reveal. Three of the four tracks were badly damaged. A mail car was ripped open and thousands of pieces of mail scattered down the hillside. Several of the passenger cars were crushed.
Among the 24 killed were the fireman on the first engine and the engineer and fireman on the second. The first engine’s engineer and brakeman were badly injured, as were 136 of the passengers. Ambulances were unable to reach the injured because of the mountainous terrain, and area doctors and nurses took a train along the undamaged track to reach those who needed assistance.
Eventually a report was issued that blamed equipment malfunctions and operator error, although the crew was partially given some benefit of the doubt by the report, which said the weather conditions may have played a part in the accident. The malfunction apparently referred to the fact that the throttle in the first engine had somehow unlatched accidentally, increasing the train’s speed just as it reached the curve. The final report actually held the crew blameless.
In 1950 a Cambria County jury was called upon to award damages in the inevitable lawsuits that followed the crash. Some of the survivors of the accident are still alive, and they all remember the accident vividly.
Sadly, before the wreckage could be completely removed, another tragic accident occurred in the same area. Just 10 days after the wreck of the Red Arrow, a train known as the Sunshine Special lost its rear Pullman car. The car sped backwards and uncontrolled down the tracks, smashing into a rock outcropping about ¼ mile from the Red Arrow wreckage. Watchmen who were guarding the Red Arrow wreckage were the first to reach the second wreck.
The crash involving the Sunshine Special car resulted in one fatality and 12 injuries.
Tomorrow: Chris Villarrial
Photo credits: National Railway Historical Society
If you are a boy living in Brownstown in the 1960s you grew up playing golf. Oh, there was also Little League, pee wee football, recreational basketball, but the one constant was golf. In the summer, you caddied up over the hill at the Sunnehanna Country Club. When you got to high school, you played on the golf team. With Brownstown part of the Ferndale School District, most of the Yellow Jacket golf team was made up of Brownstown boys. Golf.
One of those Brownstown boys was Jim Gallagher, Jr. Born James Thomas Gallagher, Jr. on March 24, 1961, it was inevitable that young Jim would be a golfer, and not just because he lived in Brownstown. His father was a club golf professional, and golf was the topic of conversation around the family dinner table. At the age of 6, Jim, Jr. was playing golf. And he was playing it well.
Before he got to high school, however, his father accepted a club pro job in Marion, Indiana, and the Ferndale Yellow Jackets were deprived of his talents on the golf team. He had developed into an accomplished golfer by that time, and he did well enough in youth tournaments that he attracted the attention of college coaches. He won the Indiana State Amateur as well as the Indiana State Open Championship, and the University of Tennessee offered him a scholarship to play for the Volunteers.
In the early 1980s he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and play professional golf, but he didn’t want to be a club pro. Professional golf was now a weekend staple on television, and he envisioned himself playing in a major tournament some day. He knew he wanted to play on the professional golf tour. And he did. He would go on to record five wins on the PGA Tour, with probably the most prestigious being the 1993 Tour Championship. His other wins were at the 1990 Greater Milwaukee Open, the 1993 Anheuser-Busch Golf Classic, the 1995 Greater Greensboro Open, and the FedEx St. Jude Classic, also in 1995. He also recorded a tie for second in the PGA Championships, one of his three Top-25 finishes in that tournament, along with two Top-25 finishes in the Masters and one in the US Open. He added another four tournament wins on the Champions Tour, for a total of nine professional victories.
In 1993 he was ranked number 53 in the world and was named to the U.S. Ryder Cup team, winning two of his three matches and helping the team to victory against the European team. In 1994, he helped win the President’s Cup against an international team, with a personal 3-1-1 record.
After retiring from the PGA Tour he became a golf analyst and commentator on the USA Network, but one of his proudest achievements was establishing a local golf tournament in Marion, Indiana that raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for youth golf.
If you were to say that golf remains a family affair for Jim Gallagher, you wouldn’t be far off. He is married to Cissye, a former player on the Ladies PGA Tour and a multi-year winner of the state championship in her home state of Mississippi. One of his four children, Kathleen, plays golf for the Louisiana State University, and both his brother and sister are touring professionals.
He holds the all-time club record at Meshingomesia Country Club in the state of Indiana with a single round score of 59. He is a member of the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame and the Grant County (Indiana) Sports Hall of Fame, and he has been awarded the Sagamore of the Wabash by Indiana governor Evan Bayh, the highest honor the governor can bestow on an Indiana resident.
He now lives in Greenwood, Mississippi.
Tomorrow: Wreck of the Red Arrow
Photo credits: PGA Tour
One of the earliest of my postings about the good things in Johnstown was the story of Cambria City and its evolution into a National Historic District. If you recall, a great deal of Cambria City’s history developed around the immigrants who settled there, and the ethnic churches that were so intertwined in their daily lives. Each ethnic group established its own church, with services conducted in the native language of each ethnic group. Old World customs continued here, as did native dress. Cambria City became arguably Johnstown’s most ethnic neighborhood. That ethnicity is now being built on in an effort to make Cambria City into Johnstown’s main cultural district. In addition to ethnic activities and festivals, new restaurants, art galleries, museums, and boutiques are springing up, and the neighborhood is becoming one of the city’s go-to places.
In July 2009, however, following a national trend, the Diocese of Altoona-Johnstown, opted to close three of those churches and consolidate them into one new one: Resurrection. The three churches closed were Sts. Casimir and Emerich (Polish and Hungarian), St. Columba (Irish but English speaking), and Immaculate Conception (German). The move was one of cost-saving, on the theory that operating one church would be cheaper than operating three churches, with the associated utility and maintenance costs.
Almost immediately a group was organized to raise money to promote the reuse of these buildings in some manner. Called Save our Steeples, the group raised money to support a joint effort by Johnstown Area Heritage Association (JAHA) and Partners for Sacred Places of Philadelphia to organize a workshop, called a charrette, to develop a vision for the neighborhood. That workshop resulted in a conceptual plan to start with St. Columba, developing it into a theater which would be used as the home of a historical drama telling the story of the immigrants who came to Johnstown.
Over the next year a new corporation, 1901 Church, Inc., was formed to acquire St. Columba. Before that could be done, however, Resurrection Parish informed local community leaders that its budget could not absorb the cost of maintaining the three closed parishes. Negotiations began between Resurrection and 1901 Church, Inc., and in late 2011 the corporation purchased all three churches from Resurrection for the sum of $30,000.
Upon assuming ownership, 1901 Church launched the Steeples Project with an eye toward raising funds to develop new uses for these churches while keeping the use within the architectural, historical, and cultural schemes associated with each church. The Steeples Project has raised more than $1,000,000 to achieve that.
In September 2012 the first church to be placed into a new use, Immaculate Conception, reopened under its new name, The Grande Hall of Broad Street. Taking advantage of the outstanding acoustics in the building, it began serving the public as a concert hall. Featuring a Gothic design with Munich-stained glass, it has since expanded into a more multi-functional facility, with weddings, receptions, corporate events, and private parties filling its calendar.
In 2015, a private organization known as Stella Property Development and Event Production LLC purchased Sts. Casimir and Emerich and turned it into the Casimir Cultural Center, hosting culturally diverse concerts, small theater productions, symposiums, art shows, festivals, and private events. It also maintains a permanent collection of treasured artifacts from the closed parishes.
In late fall 2020, the Steeples Project announced that the former St. Columba church would, indeed, become a theater. Once completed, it will be offered to local theater companies to rehearse, build sets, and perform, all at no cost. It is hoped that the productions will build on Johnstown’s ethnic heritage while maintaining the Celtic background of the facility. The old Rectory will be converted into an Airbnb.
Before any of this began, however, another ethnic church, St. George’s Serbian Orthodox Church, saw its congregation shrinking to the point where it only opened for funerals and holidays. Unable to maintain it any longer, the building began to deteriorate, reaching a state where neighbors feared it would have to be razed. At that point, Janet and Dennis Mical stepped in and purchased the building in 2009 with an eye toward converting it into an arts venue. It is now the hippest, most diverse place in Cambria City. Its name: Venue of Merging arts (VOMA), to reflect the diversity of entertainment found there.
An art gallery, complete with art instruction classes and art parties, is popular, and at any time a visitor may hear jazz, blues, folk, hip hop, jam sessions, rap, oldies, or punk rock. Open mic nights are extremely popular, particular the Teen Open Mic Night. Comedians, magicians, poets, psychics … all are welcome, and performing groups range from local bands to national touring groups, including former performers in Las Vegas and on Saturday Night Live. Considering the eclectic nature of the productions and the intimate size of VOMA, it is no surprise that many of the performances end up with Standing Room Only audiences.
VOMA is billed as a “community oriented gathering place,” and along with the others new venues mentioned here, is part of the Cambria City Cultural Partnership. All are contributing to the charm and revitalization of this vibrant neighborhood. If you’ve never been to any of them, you owe it to yourself to do so. No matter which one you choose, you won’t regret it, and if you can get to all of them, that’s even better.
Tomorrow: Jim Gllagher
Photo credits: Grand Halle exterior – Steeples Project; Grand Halle Interior – Tribune-Democrat; others – JAHA
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NOTE: LaRod recently contacted me and graciously pointed out that I had misspelled his last name. LaRod, if you are reading this, I deeply apologize. The first source I used spelled it incorrectly and I never thought to check it in the other sources. My error, and thanks for pointing it out. I have corrected it.
Johnstown has sent many outstanding football players to the NFL, and today’s subject is one more on the list. LaRod Stephens-Howling was born here in Johnstown on April 26, 1987, the son of Rodney and Stephanie Howling. He participated in football, baseball, wrestling, and track at Greater Johnstown High School. Standing only 5’7” tall, he didn’t seem to be a likely candidate to even get a scholarship to play college football, let alone make it to the NFL, but he did both, and he did them well.
Nobody who looked at his high school statistics should have been surprised. He earned first-team All-State honors in both his junior and senior years. Over his three years as a Trojan he rushed for a school-record 4,597 yards, scoring 57 touchdowns. He had 32 of those touchdowns in just his senior year, when he personally accounted for 192 points. His junior season saw him set a Laurel Highlands Athletic Conference rushing record with 2,226 yards, an average of 12 yards every time he carried the ball. That effort gained him national attention when he was named one of the Top 50 High School Players of the Year by Old Spice. He was named Offensive Player of the Year by the Southern Allegheny Football Coaches Association and became the first Tribune-Democrat two-time Offensive Player of the Year. Rivals.com named him one of the top 60 players in the nation, and he was named Pennsylvania’s Most Valuable Player in the Big 33 Game. And if you think he must have been the stereotypical ‘dumb jock,’ think again. He was also a member of the National Honor Society.
All this got him a scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh, where he led the Panthers in rushing his freshman year and returned a kickoff 95 yards for a touchdown. He again led Pitt in rushing his sophomore season, with 893 yards for a 5.0 yards/ carry average. That year, 2006, he ran for 221 yards against Syracuse, including a 70-yard touchdown run. That performance was the 10th highest rushing total in college football that year, and it earned him National Player of the Week. In addition, his football ability and academic performance was all that was needed for him to be named to the Big East All-Academic team. In 2007 his performance tailed off after he was beaten out for the starting job by future NFL Pro Bowl running back LeSean McCoy. Still, coming off the bench, he rushed for 320 yards and another kickoff return touchdown. His coaches and teammates admired him for his team-first attitude, never complaining about losing his starting job and coming off the bench to give 100% when asked. He repeated his performance in his senior season almost to the exact yardage, with 312 yards compared to 2007’s 320 yards, both for a 4.1 yards/carry average.
He was selected in the 7th round of the 2009 NFL draft by the Arizona Cardinals, who saw him not only as a running back, but also as a kick return specialist. He did not disappoint, scoring his first NFL touchdown on a 14-yard pass reception against the Carolina Panthers. Three weeks later he proved his worth as a kick returner when he took a kickoff back 99 yards for a touchdown against the Tennessee Titans. His season came to a happy ending when he was named to the Professional Football Writers Association All-Rookie team.
The next year, he topped that with a 102-yard kickoff return, again for a touchdown, against the Houston Oilers. Five games later he bounced out near the sidelines and raced 30 yards against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers for his first NFL rushing touchdown. After the 2011 season he became a restricted free agent, but Arizona re-signed him just a few weeks later.
Stephens-Howling signed with the Steelers after the 2012 season, but his career came to an abrupt end in the opening game of the 2013 season against the Tennessee Titans. In that game, he tore his anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) and had to undergo season-ending, and career-ending, surgery.
For his NFL career he tallied 670 rushing yards for five touchdowns and 545 receiving yards for three more touchdowns. His prowess as a kick returner, however, showed that the Cardinals had made a good choice when they drafted him. He returned kicks for 4,092 yards, with three kickoffs returned for touchdowns.
Stephens-Howling was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 2018. Not bad for a 5’-7” guy, was it?
Tomorrow: Steeples Project
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
The Great Flood of 1889 cost an estimated 2,209 people their lives, completely overwhelming the few local mortuaries that weren’t destroyed by the floodwaters. A committee, headed by Rev. David Beale, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, was assembled to gather the remains, clean them, and prepare them for burial. The task was gruesome, to say the least. The raging waters had slammed the victims against houses, bridges, and anything else in its path. Many had been decapitated, making identification difficult. Others had been burned beyond recognition, many of them when trapped in the inferno at the Stone Bridge. In some cases, gender could not be determined.
In any tragedy there are those who take advantage, and the 1889 flood was no exception. Many of those who helped bring in the dead turned out to be thieves, interested only in searching each body for valuables before bringing them to the morgues. When discovered, the guilty were arrested, but too often they got away with their depravity.
Every effort was made to determine the identities of the dead. Pockets were checked, although many bodies had been pounded so severely that their clothes had been torn from their bodies. A handwritten master record was kept, with physical descriptions of every body, any articles of clothing they may have been wearing, and any other means that may prove helpful. That master list was a compilation from each of the temporary morgues that were established in structures that had survived the flood and was intended to assist the survivors who were looking for missing loved ones.
Morgues were established at the Fourth Ward schoolhouse, Beale’s Presbyterian Church, the Millville school building, St. Columba’s Catholic church in Cambria City, and a private residence on the corner of Napoleon and South Streets. For a short time, the Pennsylvania Railroad station, the Peelorville school house, the chapel at Grandview Cemetery, and the Dibert soap factory were also pressed into service. For some two weeks, keeping multiple morgues operating was a necessity due to the swollen streams and piled debris, but as soon as it was feasible all the morgues were consolidated at the Millville school house, the only building remaining in that neighborhood.
The Fourth Ward school became known as Morgue A, which cared for 301 sets of remains. A photo of the Fourth Ward Morgue accompanies this post; note the stack of coffins in the upper right of the picture. The first entry was particularly poignant: Hamilton, Miss Laura. (Laura Hamilton was to have been married the following Tuesday). Body delivered to her brother. The second illustrated the thievery that was so rampant: Knorr, Mrs. Berta. Supposed to have money stolen from her person.
Morgue B was set up at the Presbyterian Church, where Rev. Beale was pastor. For some unknown reason, initial listing of the bodies was done with Roman numerals. After number 13, the more common Arabic numbering system was employed. There were 92 bodies assigned numbers, plus another 28 that were entered unnumbered. A note explained that only the unknowns and those not previously identified were numbered.
The Millville schoolhouse became Morgue C and served as the central morgue when the morgues were consolidated. One of the unknown dead was described as follows: ‘Burned beyond recognition. Head, arms, legs burnt off. Telegraph instruments and chair found with body. Handkerchief in coffin.’ Before taking in the remains from the other morgues, Morgue C had 511 of its own.
Morgue D was the private residence at the corner of Napoleon and South Streets. It is not known which of the four corners that home occupied. It would bring in 150 bodies. Most of the first 60 entries were names only, before detailed descriptions began.
Morgue E was in the St. Columba church (referred to as St. Columbia) in Cambria City. The Rev. Mr. Daviin, priest of the church, told Beale that so many were brought in over the first few days of June that he was unable to obtain descriptions, and that he merely counted them. He was confident that there were at least 600, although only 150 appear in the log. Unfortunately, the priest died before he could finish his report.
Morgue F, known as the Morrellville Morgue, was established in a saloon. The individual who was assigned as superintendent of this morgue was unable to reach it in the early days, so several unidentified individuals did what they could. As a result, the records of this morgue are inexact, and show 63 bodies brought there. Many of these were unknown children.
The records for Morgues G and H were consolidated into one log, with Morgue G at Ninevah and Old Ninevah showing only 11 bodies. Ninevah is known today as Seward. Morgue H, the Ninevah Station Morgue, recorded 237, with the bodies at the Ninevah morgues placed on the town green for identification.
Morgue I was not identified in the log as to its location. It handled 13 listed sets of remains, of which only four were identified. This morgue had perhaps the most detailed descriptions of the unknowns of all the morgues. One of the unknowns was a two year old girl, and the emotional pain of those working at the morgues was apparent in her description. In the middle of the description, sandwiched between her physical description and clothing and her Blairsville burial site was this simple statement: ‘Beautiful in death.’
Tomorrow: Larrod Stevens-Howling
Photo credits: Body recovery – Johnstown Area Heritage Association; Fourth Ward Morgue – Pinterest
rank Solich was born in Johnstown on September 8, 1944 and spent his youth in Robindale. While he was in seventh grade his family moved to Cleveland, where Frank would graduate from Holy Name High School in 1962. At Holy Name he played football and, despite being only 5’-7” tall and weighing 153 pounds, he was named All-State, All-American, and all-scholastic. High school football players who weigh 153 pounds rarely attract a lot of attention from big-time football schools, but when you are also a high school All-American, exceptions are made, and Frank was recruited to play at the University of Nebraska.
As a freshman recruit, Solich knew he would have to get larger if he wanted to stay at Nebraska. His first challenge came at freshman weigh-in, where he knew Coach Bob Devaney wanted him to weigh 162 pounds. Solich knew he didn’t, so somehow he convinced one of the trainers to tape some weights into his shorts. The ruse worked, Solich made it to 162 pounds, and he went on to have a standout career for the Cornhuskers, earning the nickname “Fearless Frankie.”
At Nebraska he was named team captain in 1965, when he was also named All-Conference as a fullback. Against Air Force that season, he ran for 204 yards on only 17 carries, an average of 12 yards per carry. His 204 yards set a Nebraska record, and in doing so he became the first Nebraska player to run for more than 200 yards in one game. He also was featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated, an honor no Cornhusker player had ever attained. He lettered three years at Nebraska.
On graduation he accepted a head coaching position at Holy Name High school in Omaha, where his team was state runner-up in Solich’s second year of coaching. He then moved to Lincoln, Nebraska’s Southeast High School, where he enjoyed similar success, winning back-to-back state championships in 1976 and 1977.
A proven winner as a high school coach, he moved up to the college coaching ranks in 1979, becoming an assistant under the legendary Tom Osborne at Nebraska, where he spent the next 19 years, first coaching the freshman team for four years, then the next 15 as running backs coach. As the running backs coach, he was directly responsible for the success of some of the best running backs in Nebraska history, including Tom Rathman, Calvin Jones, Ahman Green, and Lawrence Phillips. He also helped the Cornhuskers win three national championships and 11 conference championships.
When Osborne retired in 1997, Solich was promoted to head coach, where he launched a streak of six consecutive bowl games, finishing third in the national rankings in 1999 and reaching the national championship game in 2001 where his team lost to Miami. In that six-season stretch his teams won at least 9 games in five of them and finished in the Top 10 three times. In 1999 and 2001 he was named Big 12 Coach of the Year and was a finalist for the Paul “Bear” Bryant Award in 2001, recognizing the coach who makes the biggest contribution both on and off the field. He also coached Eric Couch to the Heisman Trophy.
In 2002, Solich’s team went 7-7, including a loss in the Independence Bowl. Despite winning 58 games in the six preceding years, that was considered a disastrous season at Nebraska, and Solich was fired. As a frame of reference, his predecessors, Bob Devaney and Tom Osborne, won 53 and 55 games respectively in that same span of time. Those records got both elected to the College Football Hall of Fame. The nation was stunned when a better record pushed Solich out of a job.
Solich took a year off, then was hired at Ohio University in 2005. Solich’s arrival in Athens,Ohio, coupled with a stadium and locker room upgrade, kindled fan interest in a way the university hadn’t seen in years. Solich’s name recognition got the Bobcats on national television six times in his first year, more than any time in its history. Their first home game with Solich as coach saw a record crowd file through the turnstiles.
Solich’s record that first year was only 4-7, but the next year, 2006, saw a dramatic turnaround, with the Bobcats going 9-5 to win the MAC East championship and get invited to the GMAC Bowl. Although Ohio lost to Southern Mississippi 28-7, nobody in Athens seemed to care. After all, it was their first bowl game in 38 years. That season’s performance earned him the Mid-American Conference Coach of the Year.
In 2011 Ohio won 10 games in 14 tries, topped by a 24-23 win over Utah state in the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl. It was Ohio’s first bowl victory ever, and their first 10-win season since 1968.
In 2012 the Bobcats jumped out to a 7-0 record, pushing them into the Associated Press Top 25 Poll for the first time in 44 years. In 2019 he won his 111th win as Ohio’s coach, making him the winningest coach in MAC history.
Solich has been inducted into two halls of fame; The Nebraska Football Hall of Fame in 1992, and the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 2004.
Tomorrow: 1889 flood morgues
Photo credits – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
In 1916 Mrs. Emily Lee donated funds to construct a new hospital downtown. That hospital would be named for Dr. John K. and Mrs. Lee in recognition of their contribution: the Lee Homeopathic Hospital. As the name suggests, the hospital’s main focus was in delivering homeopathic treatments, treatments that are intended to stimulate the body’s own healing capabilities by using mostly naturally occurring substances, such as plants and minerals.
Dr. Lee was a native of Pittsburgh who had come to Johnstown to practice medicine. Dr. John Kidd Lee had served in the 1st Maryland Cavalry in the Civil War and had been captured and taken to the Confederacy’s infamous Andersonville Prison in Georgia. He came to Johnstown in 1869 and had worked out of his home on the lower end of Main Street. Dr. Lee was one of the 2,209 souls who perished in the 1889 flood. He is buried in Grandview Cemetery, and his photo and the photo of his grave are included with this post.
His widow, Emily, had wanted to recognize her husband for the service he had rendered to the people of Johnstown. She didn’t care about the recognition for herself, a situation that was rectified in the 1980s when the Emily Lee Scholarship was established by Lee Initiatives to pay tribute to her vision and spirit. The scholarship program remains active and provides funding for deserving students pursuing health care careers.
In 1952 the hospital constructed a new addition, followed by another in 1970. Just seven years later the hospital survived its second major Johnstown flood, including one in 1936. Services were interrupted for several days in 1977 when flood waters filled the basement, knocking out all power.
In 1998 Lee became known as UPMC Lee Regional Hospital when it merged into the system operated by the University of Pittsburgh. In doing so, it became only the second acute care hospital in the UPMC family. In October 2003, UPMC opened a $25,000,000 addition at the corner of Market and Lincoln Streets to house UPMC’s new Patient Care Center. The addition included emergency, obstetrics-gynecology, neonatal intensive care and orthopedic-rehabilitation units.
In 2005 the Memorial Medical Center purchased Lee from the University of Pittsburgh, with Lee changing its name once again, this time to Lee Campus of Memorial Medical Center.
In 2008 a unique “hospital within a hospital” began when Select Specialty Hospital Johnstown opened in the Lee Campus main building. Select Specialty relocated to the Lee Campus from Memorial’s main campus. Select Specialty Hospital specializes in patients with chronic lung disease, neuromuscular disorders, mechanical ventilator dependence, acute respiratory ailments, pneumonia, post-surgical complications, strokes, spinal cord injuries, brain injuries, and metabolic encephalopathy. This long-term acute care hospital accepts patients from hospitals in several counties and is one of 88 such hospitals in 25 states. The Memorial Medical Center long-range plan calls for Select Specialty to move back to the main campus at some point.
A second unique situation exists with the State Theater, which closed several years ago and was incorporated into the main Lee building. Fortunately, the hospital maintained it and it has been used in recent years for its original intent. Now the theater is being refurbished, with plans to return it to public use.
Today the Lee Campus of Memorial Medical Center contains 314 beds plus another 24 for the Crichton Rehabilitation Center. It houses the Conemaugh Diabetes Institute, The Lee Ambulatory Surgery Center, the Wound Healing Center, Outpatient x-ray and laboratory services, behavioral health, a Sleep Disorders Center, and the Transitional Care Unit.
Tomorrow: Frank Solich
Photo credits: Lee portrait – Find-a-Grave; Main Street view of hospital – psdtolive
In 1977 the movie Slap Shot was made in Johnstown. It became an instant cult classic, and Sports Illustrated named it one of the best sports movies ever made. In 2015 USA Today Sports named the movie number 16 on its list of the 25 Greatest Sports Movies of al time, and the best hockey movie ever. It also catapulted three previously little-known hockey players into international stardom … the Hanson Brothers.
Written by Nancy Dowd, sister of former Johnstown Jet Ned Dowd (Ogie Oglethorpe in the film) the movie was based on a fairly typical season in the old rough-and-tumble North American Hockey League. Slap Shot starred Paul Newman as the player-coach of the Charlestown Chiefs in the fictional Federal League, but the Hanson brothers became the real stars as they stole the show from the big name actors. While the movie was exaggerated for comedic effect, those who are old enough to remember the old NAHL (not the version the Tomahawks currently play in) or the Eastern League may see the recognize some of the incidents in the movie as incidents that actually happened, particularly in games between Johnstown and Syracuse.
Originally, the movie called for Jack, Steve, and Jeff Carlson, actual brothers who played for the real Johnstown Jets, to play the roles of the three Hanson brothers. That had to be changed when Jack was called up by the Edmonton Oilers. Another Jet, Dave Hanson, stepped in to play the third Hanson brother. The movie used a subtle reference to Dave Hanson in the movie by including a character named Killer Carlson. Dave Hanson had been known as an enforcer throughout his career and had acquired the nickname Killer along the way, so the movie combined his nickname with the real name of the Carlsons to come up with the character. Hanson’s last name was used for the three movie brothers.
The movie depicted the three as raucous, undisciplined players who would rather fight than play hockey. Creating problems for the officials every minute they were on the ice, the three have become legendary in hockey circles, and the movie has become the unofficial “go-to movie” for most college and minor league hockey teams on the team buses as they travel to the next game.
What many don’t realize was that the two Carlsons and Dave Hanson were actually all better than average hockey players, with all three playing at some point in their careers in the top levels of hockey. Steve Carlson played in 225 games in the National Hockey League and the World Hockey Association. Dave Hanson played in 136 games in the NHL and WHA, while Jeff Carlson played in seven WHA games. Hanson and Jeff Carlson had been known to drop the gloves from time to time as enforcers, but Steve Carlson was better known as a finesse player, albeit one who didn’t skate away from a good fight.
Exaggerated or not, the movie opened up a new line of work for the three. In a great deal of demand, the “Hanson Brothers” began making personal appearances throughout the United States and Canada. Wearing their trademark black rimmed glasses with the taped nose-bridge (which, incidentally are now licensed for sale on internet stores, along with Charlestown Chiefs hockey sweaters), the three developed a slapstick routine that kept them traveling several months a year. They have appeared in Bud Ice beer commercials, and in 2015, when Johnstown was named as the NHL’s and Kraft Foods’ Hockeyville USA, the three came home for the game at the War Memorial between the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Tampa Bay Lightning, appearing several times throughout the evening on national television. In full hockey regalia, of course. On a more serious note, the three are proud of the money they have raised for various charities.
In additional to being nationally famous and in demand to appear at hockey-related events throughout North America, the Hanson Brothers have spawned numerous spinoff characters. The American Hockey League’s Cleveland Monsters now have three Hanson lookalikes, complete with the long black hair and black-rimmed glasses, who clean the areas around the goals during game breaks, all while wearing full uniforms. At the 2011 NHL Awards, the Hansons appeared in a spoof sketch where they were depicted as trying to pawn the Stanley Cup on the reality show Pawn Stars. Even professional wrestling got into the act, with Extreme Championship Wrestling having two fictional brothers based on the Hansons.
In 2015 the Hanson brothers were presented with the ultimate praise; they were inducted into the Fictitious Athlete Hall of Fame. With the phrases “puttin’ on the foil,” “old time hockey,” and “bleed all over ‘em, let ‘em know you’re there,” now part of the national hockey language, the Hanson brothers appear to have guaranteed their place in hockey lore for the foreseeable future.
Tomorrow: Lee Hospital
Photo credits: Hansons on bench – Pinterest; jerseys – hansonbrothers.net; t-shirt – slingshothockey
I think most of us have had a thought pop into our head for no apparent reason. It may be something that you haven’t thought about in years, or some long ago incident that seemed really important when it happened but now, for the life of you, you don’t know why it means anything. That happened to me a few days ago as I was writing the post about local professional race car driver Chris Gleason. In the middle of writing it, I suddenly remembered the old Johnstown Speedway. I don’t know why. I don’t remember ever being there. I was never even a big racing fan. I had gone to some races at Jennerstown, but that was about it. I thought that it was strange, but then it struck me that it may be a good topic for a post. So here it is.
Few will likely remember it. The speedway only lasted a few years, and it never seemed to catch on with the local racing fans. And that surprised me because when the Johnstown Speedway opened in 1958, there were already three popular local tracks: Windber Stadium, Ebensburg Fairgrounds, and Jennerstown. Obviously there were a lot of local racing fans. It would seem that a fourth track would do well.
Unfortunately, that was not the case, and the fact that there were already three local tracks is most likely why the Johnstown Speedway failed to catch on. There were just too many tracks, and the three tracks already in operation were firmly entrenched. Racing fans are very territorial, and once they have a track that they favor it is tough to change their minds.
The Johnstown Speedway began its 1958 season operating with an oval track. The complex was to be expanded to include a drag strip, as well, but it didn’t survive long enough for that to happen. It was located near the airport off Engbert Road and was built by well-known local contractor Frank M. Sheesley Company.
The quarter-mile track had a dirt surface and was 50 feet wide. The width expanded to 75 feet in the high-banked turns. Lights were installed, to allow night racing, a feature that was a necessity since all the other local tracks already had lights.
Most marketing professionals recognize that a product has to be different than its competitors if it wants to sell well.
The designers of the Johnstown Speedway took that into consideration and incorporated some unique features that they hoped would set the track apart from the three established local tracks. Bleacher seating was replaced by individual wooden chairs placed on hillside terraces around the track. For those not wishing to sit in a wooden chair there was a parking/viewing area where fans could remain in their cars to watch the races. In a bold marketing strategy the track billed itself as the Indianapolis of Pennsylvania.
The first season had 11 nights of racing. Unfortunately, those races attracted crowds that averaged only slightly more than 600 fans, barely enough to pay the bill for the lighting, let alone prize money. The next few seasons weren’t much better, and in 1962 the track tried to build interest by dropping stock car racing and replacing it with motorcycle racing. When that also failed to bring fans through the gates, the track closed in 1962 after only five years of operation.
So what went wrong, in addition to the excessive number of local tracks? It turned out that most of the top drivers didn’t like the track, with its high banked turns that often resulted in collisions. And race fans tend to follow specific drivers, even at the local level. It’s a lot like football fans around here following the Steelers. In much the same manner, race fans tend to follow their favorite drivers, and if a driver doesn’t like a specific track, he most likely won’t race there. And by extension, that driver’s fans will also stay away.
Today the area where the track was located is privately owned, but a look at Google Maps plainly reveals the outline of the old oval track. The infield, which housed the pit area when the track was in operation, is now a large pond. After the track closed, the area became a haven for party goers and gained a reputation as a Lovers Lane. A sad ending for what could have been a big contributor to the local sports scene.
So there you have it. I was unable to find anything else about this piece of local history. There is such little information available that I was only able to find one photo, which accompanies this post. I don’t even know for sure who to credit for the photo because it is listed in the Tribune-Democrat article that I used as a basis for this post as simply a submitted photo. It doesn’t say who submitted it, so if the owner is reading this, get in touch with me and I will make sure it is properly attributed. Likewise, if anyone has information that you’d like to add that would be of interest, please feel free to do so in the comments.
Tomorrow: The Hanson Brothers
Photo credit: Tribune-Democrat and unknown contributor
In 1989 UPJ hired a new basketball coach. Since 1969 UPJ had only had four winning seasons, so the administration wasn’t asking for much, or expecting much, for that matter. One of the leading candidates for the job was a young coach who had been his high school team’s Most Valuable Player in his senior year and who had set a single-season assist record that would not be broken for 42 years. He had never coached at the college level, but he was already on campus, having served the previous year as the university’s assistant basketball coach. After a series of interviews, that young coach got the job.
The new coach was instructed to just recruit good kids, be competitive, and have a winning season once in a while. That wasn’t good enough for the coach, Bob Rukavina. He had a competitive personality and didn’t like losing. He had no problem agreeing with the part about bringing in good kids, and being competitive was what he planned to be. But having a winning season “once in a while” was not going to cut it for him.
Rukavina knew it wasn’t going to be easy when his telephone didn’t stop ringing that first year. It was almost always a coach or athletic director from another school wanting to schedule UPJ for the easy win. Within a few years the phone calls stopped. Nobody wanted to play UPJ any more and the Mountain Cats were forced to travel as far as North Carolina to find teams willing to play his teams. Not long after that, UPJ had developed into one of the top Division II teams in the country, and they haven’t looked back.
Just three years after assuming the job as UPJ’s coach, he led he team to its first winning record since 1979, clinching it with a win over Division I Youngstown State. UPJ had never defeated a Division I opponent in basketball until that win.
Since Rukovina took the reins at UPJ, the Mountain Cats have gone to four NCAA Division II tournaments and had eight 20-win seasons. Just nine years after he became coach, the team that had only four winning seasons in 19 years finished with a 23-4 record and was ranked fifth in the country. It was the second year in a row that they finished with a 23-4 record, the school record for wins in the regular season. The 1997-98 team went on to finish 24-5 after losing by one point to eventual champion Fairmont State in the NCAA East Regional Semifinals, the second year in a row the team had made it into the NCAA tournament.
In 2007 UPJ became a member of the West Virginia Intercollegiate Athletic Conference, where they won the regular season championship with an overall 23-8 record and a 17-3 conference record. That earned Rukavina the conference’s Coach of the Year title. It also earned UPJ another berth in the NCAA tournament. They would win the conference title again in the 2008-09 season and once again play in the NCAA tourney.
In 2008 and 2010 UPJ led the nation in field goal percentage, and in 2013 and 2014 Rukavina’s team was the best three-point shooting team in all of college basketball, including Division I. He has had four players lead the NCAA in some category on six different occasions. Five of his players have attained either All-East or Honorable Mention All-American status, and nine former players have gone on to play professional basketball somewhere in the world.
In 2013-14 UPJ joined the Pennsylvania State Athletic Conference. Since then, Rukavina has led UPJ to six consecutive conference tournaments, including four quarterfinal games. If you are counting the years, the consecutive streak is intact because the PSSAC suspended play this past season due to the Covid-19 epidemic. Assuming the 2021-22 season is played, UPJ will have the chance to extend their tournament appearances to seven years in a row. He was named the conference’s Western Division Coach of the Year in 2018-19.
On January 18, 2020 Coach Ruk won his 500th game, defeating Slippery Rock 72-69.
In the summer of 1998 Rukavina coached an all-star team that went to Madrid and Vigo, Spain. He coached the team to a 4-1 record, and in August 2004, he was chosen to join former NBA Coch of the Year Jack McKinney to go to the MedQuest Coaching Clinic in Beirut, Lebanon to teach coaches from throughout the Middle East about basketball.
With all these statistics, it is apparent that Rukavina is the UPJ coach with the most basketball wins, with a record of 507-353, for a .590 win percentage. Both his total wins and his winning percentage are good enough to place him among the national leaders in Division II. He was inducted into the Alle-Kiski Sports Hall of Fame in 2019.
While his coaching record is stellar, one of his proudest achievements is meeting that goal set by the administration in 1989: recruit good kids. Since he became basketball coach, his players have graduated at a 90% rate, one of the best graduation rates in the country for colleges with the academic rating as high as UPJ’s.
He and his wife, Sharon, live in Lower Burrell, PA, and Coach Ruk commutes the 130 miles round trip to UPJ and back several times a week. He doesn’t want to move because he loves where he lives, and he doesn’t want to change jobs (despite offers from Division I teams) because he loves UPJ and Johnstown. Few people can go through life having the best of both worlds. Coach Bob Rukavina is one of the few who actually does.
Tomorrow: Johnstown Speedway
Photo credits: Portrait – Tribune-Review; 500 wins photo – UPJ Athletic Dept.
The year 1989 was a big year in Johnstown. It had been 100 years since the devastating flood that took more than 2,000 lives. While it was nothing to celebrate, it certainly was worthy of commemoration, and what a commemoration it was. Concerts, dedication of a new $5,000,000 visitors’ center at the Johnstown Flood National Memorial, fireworks displays, parades … it seemed like there was something going on every week throughout the summer. Throngs of visitors came, and if there was any celebrating, it was of the city’s resiliency and determination.
One unique aspect of the commemoration was the commissioning of one of the country’s best known sculptors, James Wolfe for a special project easily associated with Johnstown. Wolfe’s work had been prominently displayed in galleries at Boston, New York, Washington, and other cities. The project he planned on doing, sculptures made in a steel mill from thousands of tons of raw steel, then erected along what he envisioned as a “sculpture trail,” was truly unique. It had never been done anywhere else in the nation.
He had never worked in a steel mill before, either as a steelworker or as a sculptor, but he took to the experience with enthusiasm. He moved his tools into the Gautier Works, a bit intimidated by the furnaces, heavy equipment, and the huge 1-ton hammer that he would be using. But mostly he wasn’t sure how his work would be seen by the grizzled steelworkers who would be assisting him. Gradually, he won them over, even though most of them weren’t sure what the final product was, even though they were looking directly at it and had helped make it. In all, there would be eight of those abstract sculptures, and they would be placed along a hiking trail. Hardly the place to exhibit most sculptures, but the ideal place for these.
He gave the sculptures names, names that had nothing to do with what the sculpture looked like, according to the steelworkers. “Triumph of the Spirit” they understood. Wolfe was here to pay tribute to the city, so the triumph part was pretty obvious. But “Fred and Ginger?” “Sunrise Drill?” Those they didn’t get, and probably still don’t to this day. But they were eager to pitch in and help.
Gradually, huge pieces of scrap steel were heated and bent into odd shapes, then welded together. Then the steelworkers began to really get into it, bringing old anvils, sledge hammers, tongs … whatever they could find. Wolfe graciously incorporated them into whatever piece he happened to be working on. Soon, those workers, the ones who had been so cynical when they first heard about the project, became his biggest fans. They ate lunch together, joked with each other, and yes, became friends. The artsy guy from New York and the tough, hard scrabble steelworkers from Johnstown. Johnstown’s own version of The Odd Couple.
In May of 1989 came the big unveiling. The sculptures were placed on foundations along the hillside trail between Roosevelt Boulevard and the Inclined Plane. Now sandblasted and brightly painted, they were spaced over a 1.5 mile route. The last one, standing 40-feet tall and weighing 1,500 pounds, had to be hoisted up by helicopter. It sits just below the observation deck at the top of the Incline.
Art enthusiasts and hikers alike were able to enjoy the abstract artwork in a place of beauty, rather than in the sterile confines of an art gallery. Tucked into a natural area inhabited by deer, song birds, and the occasional bald eagle, they just seemed to blend in.
Unfortunately, though, over the years the sculptures have been hit by the ravages of the local weather patterns. Gradually the paint faded and peeled, and the steel began to rust. The trail itself was often plagued by falling trees and became swampy during heavy rains. The location of the sculptures began to be questioned, not to mention their condition. The decision was made to refurbish them and move them somewhere downtown, and that project is underway right now. The piece in the accompanying photo shows Wolfe inspecting one of his works. It sits at the corner of Washington and Walnut Streets. Thanks to John Rucosky and the Tribune-Democrat for the photo.
Once completed, these unique pieces of art will once again be on display in a more prominent area for locals and visitors to enjoy.
Tomorrow: Bob Rukavina
Photo credit: John Rukosky and the Tribune-Democrat
The subject of today’s post, Ron Kostelnik, was bumped up a bit in the que after a recent local news article discussed the loss of one of his Super Bowl rings. Maybe by posting this today while it is fresh in everyone’s mind it will help locate the ring. More about the ring later.
Ron was born January 14, 1940 in Colver. He attended schools in the Central Cambria system, graduating in 1957 from Central Cambria High school. He attended the University of Cincinnati on a football scholarship and was drafted in the second round of the 1961 NFL Draft as the 26th overall selection by the Green Bay Packers. The Packers were just in the second year of their seven-year domination of the league, during which they won five NFL championships as well as the first two Super Bowls. Kostelnik could not have chosen a better team to play for.
A defensive tackle, he played as backup to the veteran Dave Hanner for a few seasons, learning the difference between being a good college player and a professional. In 1964 he became the starter at his position, receiving few accolades on a dominant defensive line, overshadowed by 5-time All-Pro Willie Davis, 7-time All-Pro Henry Jordan, and Lionel Aldridge. Kostelnik’s contribution was recognized by his teammates, however, and offensive guard Jerry Kramer made sure others were aware. Kramer, himself a 7-time All-Pro, said that Kostelnik was a steady and dependable guy who plugged up the middle of the line and allowed others to excel and get the publicity. There ae no statistics for that.
With the 6’-4”, 260 pound Kostelnik doing just that, plugging up the middle of the line, Coach Vince Lombardi led the Packers to NFL championships in 1961, 1962, 1965, 1966, and 1967. Kostelnik was a major contributor to those championships. The Packers went on to win Super Bowl I and Super Bowl II, with Kostelnik still “plugging up the middle.”
In 1969 Kostelnik was traded to the Baltimore Colts. It was the first year for the Colts after losing to Joe Namath and the New York Jets in Super Bowl III, and they suffered from the dreaded Super Bowl let-down, where Super Bowl teams tend to have underperforming seasons the next year. The Colts went 8-5-1 in what was a disappointing season. Kostelnik retired at the end of the season.
Following his retirement from football, Kostelnik took his Master’s Degree to Mainline Industrial Distributors of Appleton, Wisconsin. He had been working for the company in the off-season for five years, which set him up nicely to take over as president of the company in 1970.
In 1993, he and his wife Peggy went on vacation to Florida. On the return trip he suffered a fatal heart attack while driving on Interstate 75 in Kentucky, causing him to lose control of the car and strike a mound of dirt. Fortunately, nobody was injured, but Ron was declared deceased on January 29, 1993 at age 53.
In 1967, while still playing for the Packers, he was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. The University of Cincinnati named him to the university’s athletic department Hall of Fame in 1985, and the Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame inducted him in 1989.
And that missing ring? It was his ring from Super Bowl II, which he had given to his son Mike. His ring from Super Bowl I had gone to his daughter, Laura. Mike reported that he had been wearing the ring while on a family trip from Wisconsin to Miami. He said that the ring is so heavy that it was uncomfortable to wear at times, so he removed it at some point during the trip and placed it in the center console of his car. That was the last it was seen. The family is offering a $5,000 reward for its return.
Tomorrow: Wolfe Sculpture Trail
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
When we think of professional athletes who have come from Johnstown, we usually think of professional football or baseball players. It isn’t often that a professional race car driver pops into mind, but that’s exactly who we will be talking about today. A few weeks ago, Kellie Marshall Budnick messaged me with the suggestion that I write about Chris Gleason. I already had Chris on my list of people to post about, but Kellie’s message prompted me to bump it up a bit. Kellie, thanks a lot for writing.
Chris Gleason was born October 13, 1943 and attended Our Mother of Sorrows School. While in school he often day dreamed about his sports heroes. No, not Joe DiMaggio or Willie Mays. And not Bobby Layne or Sam Huff. His heroes were Jim Clark and Peter Revson, famous open-wheel race car drivers. By the time he graduated from Westmont High School he knew what he wanted to do in life. He loved watching road racing, with each race having different turns and strategies.
In 1965, shortly after graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he bought his first race car, a Triumph Spitfire. Three years later he found himself in Kent, England, enrolled in driver school. While there, he began a racing career that would span 50 years. After competing in several races in England, he went to Brazil with one of the drivers he met in England. In Brazil he competed while driving several different types of cars before returning home to Johnstown in 1970 to compete in Sports Car Club of American regional races.
In 1973 he won the SCCA Northeast Division championship and finished in second place at the national championship race. He did it in a car he had named “Spirit of Johnstown.” He then moved into the Formula Super Vee and Formula Atlantic Series, where he tied for Rookie of the Year in 1978 in Formula Atlantic, competing against such stars as Bobby Rahal and Danny Sullivan. In the 1980s he raced in the Trans-Am and IMSA series before taking a break from racing.
Despite being away from racing, it was still in his blood, and he got back into the sport in 1996. And he didn’t just want to drive in small races … he tackled the Big One in 1997: the 24 Hours of LeMans. Driving a Viper in what is considered the most prestigious endurance sports car race in the world, he finished in sixth place, experiencing what he later described as his most memorable race ever.
He would go on to race at such prestigious places as Watkins Glen, Michigan International, the Road of America in Wisconsin, and Daytona. He competed in the Grand Am Road Racing Association’s Rolex and Koni Challenge Series, highlighted by a third place finish at Daytona in 2003 in a Porsch GT3 and finishing fourth overall in the Grand Sport races, where he won at Lime Rock and Mid-Ohio. That same year saw him inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, where he was presented for the award by his friend, the legendary Chip Ganassi.
Over his career he had 15 victories, with 40 top-three finishes. Although he raced all over the world, he chose to return home, retiring to his Millcreek Valley Farm with his wife and children.
Tomorrow: Ron Kostelnik
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
The draft of the article for Gettysburg Magazine has been completed and is ready to be submitted. I underestimated the amount of time it would take to research and write it, so I apologize for being away from here for a bit longer than I anticipated. Thank you all for your patience and kind words during the hiatus. We’re back in operation with today’s post on Mercy Hospital, which we know better now as Good Samaritan.
In 1843 the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh was founded by Bishop Michael O’Connor. The Bishop traveled to Rome for consecration by the Pope, and rather than making a direct trip back to Pittsburgh, he went by way of his native Ireland. His goal in Ireland was to recruit priests to come to Pittsburgh to serve the new diocese. In addition to the priests, he also selected eight Sisters of Mercy to come to America from Dublin.
Under the guidance of Frances Ward, who had been serving in a home for poor and abused women in Dublin that had become known as the House of Mercy, the group boarded the Queen of the West for their journey to the United States. Once they arrived in New York, the traveled by train to Philadelphia, then to Chambersburg. Once in Chambersburg, the women took a carriage to Pittsburgh, where they found a city with many sick in need of skilled care. Few had access to formal education. Noting immediately those needs, they knew what their mission would be, and they set out to established a legacy of healthcare and education.
They quickly established two schools and an orphanage, and set about treating the destitute who otherwise would have no access to healthcare. In 1846, the Sisters established a hospital, promising that it would be “free from sectarianism, and economical in its arrangement.” That hospital became known as the Mercy Hospital of Pittsburgh, the first hospital in Western Pennsylvania and the first Mercy hospital in the world. It opened officially on January 1, 1847.
In 1910 the Sisters of Mercy expanded their mission, opening a Mercy Hospital in Johnstown. It would follow the same philosophy as its parent hospital in Pittsburgh, providing skilled care to those who needed it. The local hospital opened a School of Nursing the following year.
While nurses were not required to be nuns, the nuns who served in the hospital in healthcare-related jobs were easily identifiable. To differentiate from the more commonly seen black habits worn by nuns, those at Mercy wore white habits that featured tighter sleeves and slimmer skirts, making them more streamlined and efficient for healthcare work
In 1918, in a scene that foreshadowed the current pandemic, the Spanish Flu pandemic struck Johnstown, as it did the rest of the world. Mercy hospital provided a vital service, along with the Conemaugh Valley Memorial Hospital that was located just up Franklin Street. It would be called upon to step up again in the devastating floods of 1936 and 1977. The hospital itself suffered greatly in the 1977 flood, with no electrical power or water service, but it found a way to continue its work.
Upon entering Mercy Hospital, visitors passed a large religious statue. Another awaited them in the lobby, and numerous smaller religious icons were placed throughout the hospital. Years later, the hospital changed its name to Good Samaritan, and when it became part of the Conemaugh Health System, it would no longer be affiliated with the Catholic church. At that time, Conemaugh Medical Center donated the statues to area churches that had some connection to the individual figures depicted by the statue they received. For example, the statue of St. Theresa went to St. Theresa Church in the West End.
Today the hospital continues the work that was begun in 1910 as a satellite hospital of the Mercy Hospital of Pittsburgh. Now, however, it operates as the Good Samaritan Building of the Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center. The nine-story brick and steel structure now houses Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center’s Psychiatric Unit, Cancer Center, and various other departments, including the Palliative Care Inpatient Unit to provide relief to patients suffering from pain, symptoms, and stress associated with serious illnesses such as heart disease, lung ailments, Alzheimer’s Disease, Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (Lou Gehrig’s Disease), and multiple sclerosis.
Tomorrow: Chris Gleason
Photo credits from old postcards
I know that I said just a few days ago that I would be posting daily for the foreseeable future, but this will have to be the last post for a few days. I have been asked by Gettysburg Magazine to write an article for them and it will take me a few days to do the research and write the article. I apologize, but I will be posting again as soon as I have the story submitted. Thanks for your understanding. Now, for today’s post.
William Jeffrey Hostetler was born April 22, 1961. From the time he was a boy there was little doubt that he would excel in sports. Playing football at Conemaugh Township High School, he attracted the attention of college coaches, and why not? In 1978 he was named All-State, and was selected as a Parade Magazine All American. When Penn State offered him a scholarship to play quarterback, Hostetler said yes.
As so many outstanding high school athletes quickly learn, however, every player in college football is good. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be on the team. Jeff started three games for the Nittany Lions in 1980 but lost his starting job to Todd Blackledge. Not wishing to sit on the bench, he transferred to West Virginia University. In accordance with NCAA rules, he had to sit out the entire 1981 season, but when he finally got to play, he played with a vengeance.
In his first game, he led the Mountaineers to a 41-27 upset win over ninth-ranked Oklahoma, passing for 321 yards and four touchdowns. For his effort, Sports Illustrated named him its Offensive Player of the Week. A few weeks later he faced the tenth-ranked Maryland Terrapins, whose quarterback was Boomer Esiason. Unintimidated, Hostetler passed for 285 yards and one touchdown, while leading WVU to a 19-18 upset win. The Mountaineers went on to play in the Gator Bowl that year, but lost to Florida State.
In 1983 Hostetler led a late-game drive to beat rival Pitt 24-21, scoring the game-winning touchdown. It was WVU’s first win over Pitt in seven years. He repeated his heroics a few weeks later, throwing for two touchdowns to come from behind and defeat Kentucky 20-16. That year, his final one as a collegiate player, he played in the Hula Bowl and Japan Bowl. By now Hostetler had become a fan favorite in Morgantown, where he was better known simply as “Hoss.”
He was named an Academic All American, and in just two years at West Virginia, Hostetler still ranks among single-season leaders in total offense, passing yards, pass completions, pass attempts, touchdown passes and passing efficiency. Hostetler also is the career leader in interception avoidance. In 1998 he was named to the WVU all-time roster and was inducted into the West Virginia Sports Hall of Fame. He had already been inducted eight years earlier to the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
In the 1984 NFL Draft, Hostetler was selected by the New York Giants in the third round. He served as backup quarterback to Phil Simms for his first five years and a holder for extra points and field goals. Although he was part of a Super Bowl winning team in 1986, he wanted to get on the field. Frustrated at his lack of playing time, he offered to play other positions, including wide receiver and blocker on the punt return team. Recognizing the need for a backup quarterback and not wanting to see Hostetler injured, the Giants didn’t take him up on his offer.
By 1990, tired of warming the bench, he decided he would retire at the end of the season. Then, fate stepped in. In the 15th game of the season, Simms suffered a severe foot injury. He would be out for the remainder of the season, and Hostetler stepped in as the Giants quarterback. Hostetler led the Giants to victory in the last two games of the season, with their 13-3 record gaining them a first round bye in the playoffs. The Giants then beat the Chicago Bears and San Francisco 49ers to gain a spot in the Super Bowl. Hostetler was injured in the San Francisco game but was able to return and lead two late scoring drives.
Hostetler was the starting quarterback in the Super Bowl, completing 20 of 32 passes for 222 yards and a touchdown as the Giants defeated heavily favored Buffalo 20-19. In 2008, ESPN ranked Hostetler’s performance in that game the 30th best by any player in Super Bowl history. He had gone from backup quarterback to Super Bowl champion. Retirement was no longer on the table.
The next season he won the starting job against Simms and defeated San Francisco in the Giants home opener, halting the 49ers 18-game road winning streak. The well-known “Super Bowl Letdown” struck the Giants, however, as they finished 8-8 and out of the playoffs. Hostetler had to relinquish his job to Simms after he broke his back in the 12th game of the season.
When the 1992 season came around, Simms had regained his starting job, but once again he suffered a season ending injury in the fourth game. Hostetler stepped into the breach once again, but this time he had his own injury problems, suffering a concussion that kept him out of three games, and his contract was not renewed at the end of the season. He latched on with the Los Angeles Raiders for the 1993 season and led the team to a wild card berth in the playoffs, where he led the Raiders to a 42-24 win over Denver, passing for 294 yards and three touchdowns.
In 1994 he led the Raiders to a 9-6 record and was named to the Pro Bowl. The 1995 season saw Hostetler get the Raiders to an 8-2 start before he injured his shoulder. He would only play one more game that season. The next year, 1996, saw the Raiders missing the playoffs and opting not to renew Jeff’s contact.
He then signed with the Washington Redskins as a backup for Gus Frerotte for the 1997 season, becoming the Redskins starter after Frerotte suffered a season-ending neck injury when he celebrated a touchdown by head butting the goalpost. (Really. That’s what he did). Hostetler would spend 1998 on the injured reserve list, and retired at the end of the season.
Hoss Hostetler’s NFL record saw him pass for 16,430 yards and 94 touchdowns. He also ran for 1,391 yards and 17 touchdowns. But it was his playoff record that was most impressive, where he won four of five games. In those five games he completed 62.6% of his passes for 1,034 yards, seven touchdowns, and a 112.0 passer rating.
From college backup to Super Bowl champion. Just shows what determination and belief in yourself can accomplish.
Tomorrow: Mercy Hospital
Photo credits: Portrait: raiders.com; Game Photo: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
Johnstown has long been a major player in our nation’s defense industry. Companies like Lockheed-Martin, JWF Defense Systems, Concurrent Technologies, DRS Laurel Technologies, and Navmar Applied Sciences are just a few of the better-known companies. Even foreign countries have established a major presence in Johnstown, doing business with the U.S. military. Martin-Baker (United Kingdom), Kongsburg (Norway), Kitron Technologies (Norway), Nammo Talley (Norway), and North American Hoganas (Sweden) all provide services and products vital to the U. S. Defense Industry. Local workers provide everything from aircraft ejection seats to missile system controls, and many items and systems in between that keep our country secure.
Considering this, it only seems natural that one of the nation’s premier trade shows for the defense industry is located here in Johnstown. That trade show, the Showcase for Commerce, is now in its 30th year providing networking opportunities between the government and defense contractors, not only those based locally, but also those from around the country.
Showcase is nationally renowned, bringing more than 100 national and multi-national exhibitors and more than 1000 attendees each year to meet with one another, talk with representatives of government agencies and various branches of the military, and see the latest innovations in military technology. Hundreds of millions of dollars worth of defense contracts are signed over the course of the three day exhibition. Many of those contracts benefit the local defense industry.
Showcase for Commerce was pushed aggressively by the late Congressman John Murtha, a strong proponent for a robust national defense and a major booster of the local area. His numerous personal and professional contacts paid dividends, particularly in the event’s early years when local officials were trying to get the exhibition into the national conversation. Today, the event attracts national political officials, Pentagon-level officers representing all branches of the military, and representatives of some of the largest defense contractors in the world.
Seminars are provided to acquaint companies that are new to the maze of bidding on defense contracts, including how to do it, when to do it, what is expected, quality control, and all the basic ins-and-outs of working with the government. The goal is to remove the intimidation factor while broadening the base of available providers to the defense industry. By every measure, it appears to be working.
The main exhibition area is in the 1st Summit Arena at Cambria County War Memorial, with overflow exhibits of larger military vehicles on Napoleon Street, which is closed in that area during the entire three days. The exhibition is open to the public as well as to companies seeking to visit with exhibitors. The Pasquerilla Conference Center, situated across Napoleon Street from the War Memorial, is used for the opening and closing receptions, a breakfast, meeting space, briefings, and press conferences.
While a great deal of business is conducted during the event, there are also social events. Tours, visits to local sites, and private gatherings in the evening provide an opportunity for those in attendance to relax and network. And no business conference would be complete, or even considered legitimate, without a golf outing,
Contractors and military officials alike indicate that they look forward to their Johnstown visit every year, and the city can be proud of what our local defense contractors are doing to maintain a secure nation.
Tomorrow: Jeff Hostetler
Photo credits: Indoor exhibit – WJAC-TV; others – Showcase for Commerce
The Bottle Works Ethnic Arts Center is a major player in the Johnstown arts and cultural scene, but it may come as a surprise to some that it could have just as easily ended up in Youngstown, Ohio. Many of you may have heard the story, but for those who haven’t, it bears repeating.
As the story goes, Hungarian immigrant Jacob Goldhaber was on a train bound for Youngstown, Ohio many years ago. His planned destination had a large Hungarian population and Goldhaber planned to settle there. As the train approached Johnstown, the conductor passed through the cars shouting “Next stop Johnstown,” as was the custom. To Goldhaber, the name Johnstown sounded like Youngstown, and when the train pulled into the station, he got off. As many immigrants did, he fell in love with the area and decided this was where he wanted to set down roots and bring his family.
Unlike many of the early immigrants who came to work in the steel mills and coal mines, Jacob had other ideas. Seeing the many breweries in the Cambria City neighborhood, he reasoned that a soft drink would also do well, and he started a bottling company. The name he gave his company, Tulip Bottling Company, was a nod to the national flower of his native country. He bottled his soft drinks, which came in several different colors, in glass bottles with a likeness of a tulip emblazoned on the side. No matter the size or style of the bottle, the tulip became a mainstay on all of them. One of the photos that accompanies this post shows a collection of those bottles.
The company did so well that, in 1937 it was purchased by Pepsi Cola. While the tulip had been the trademark of the Tulip Bottling Company, Pepsi had no need for it. They had their own logo, and the tulip disappeared from the bottles. Pepsi, being a national brand, grew much faster than the local bottler could have, and soon it outgrew the old Tulip space. It acquired two adjoining building, the Goenner Brewery and a stable. The two new buildings, plus the original Tulip property, served as Pepsi’s Johnstown facility for many years, until those facilities became too cramped. Pepsi built a large bottling plant in Richland, and today it is one of the company’s largest soft drink producers, turning out 50,000,000 cases of soft drinks ever year and shipping throughout the northeast and Mid-Atlantic states, and as far west as the state of Indiana.
The Tulip facility did not remain empty long, however, and it became a warehouse. In 1993, the old Tulip Bottling Company was purchased by an organization that had been established to promote the cultural diversity of Johnstown through the arts. Wishing to maintain some tie to the past, the group decided a fitting name would be the Bottle Works, even though there would be nothing bottled there, and in keeping with the organization’s purpose, the group took on the name of the Bottle Works Ethnic Arts Center. Remodeling began almost immediately.
The arts center quickly became a popular venue, and in 2001 it looked to expand. What had originally been a stable before Pepsi-Cola purchased it, was purchased and refurbished to include art studios, exhibit spaces, and in keeping with the push for more environmentally friendly buildings, a green roof. The two buildings merged in January 2014.
In 2020 the Bottle Works expanded yet again, introducing a small sculpture park across 3rd Avenue, featuring sculptures by local artist Norman Ed. The new green space replaces an old parking lot and has been named with another throwback to the old Tulip Bottling Company, Pop Plaza. When First National Bank provided sponsorship, the official name became the First National Bank Pop Plaza at the Bottle Works, or the FNB Pop Plaza. In addition to the sculptures, the new greenspace includes a rain garden with native plants and three pedestrian bridges.
Today the Bottle Works is a vibrant center for the arts, serving as an anchor for the burgeoning cultural district of Cambria City and providing a place for artists to hold exhibits and for musicians to perform. Now housing art studios and classroom spaces, it has become a place where visitors can explore ethnic arts and enjoy the atmosphere of this dynamic facility.
The building photos show how the building has grown and how it has changed over the years, and the glassware exhibit is a collection of all the bottles from the old Tulip Bottling Company.
Tomorrow: Showcase for Commerce
Photo credits: Original Bottle Works – personal photo; Sculpture Park with sculptures –
Frances Hesselbein may be one of the most famous women you’ve never heard of. She was born in Johnstown on November 1, 1915 and became so accomplished that she was referred to by Peter Drucker, the father of modern management, as “America’s Greatest Leader.” Fortune Magazine went a bit further, naming her one of the World’s Greatest Leaders, along with Apple CEO Tim Cook and Elon Musk, CEO if Tesla Motors and SpaceX. If you think that is idle praise, consider this: In 1998 she was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor. I’ll tell you why she received that prestigious honor later.
Frances attended Johnstown Junior College before it became UPJ, then graduated from the University of Pittsburgh. She began her working career as most women do, and she started to get involved in volunteer work, the one thing she really loved. She became a troop leader in the Girl Scouts, and in the 1970s, the local United Way asked her to chair their annual fund drive, making her the first woman to do so anywhere in the world.
Her success in her job, coupled with the reputation she built as a leader in the Girl Scouts and other organizations, did not go unnoticed. In 1976 the position of CEO with the Girl Scouts national headquarters became vacant. She did not seek the job. Rather, the Girl Scouts sought her. A phone call came one day from the Girl Scouts, asking her to apply for the position. Her application led to her being called to New York for a series of interviews. Not long after, she was offered the job. She accepted and served in the position for 13 years. In that time she built membership to 2,250,000 and grew the workforce to 780,000, most of them volunteers.
In 1990 she left the Girl Scouts to head up the Leader to Leader Institute, formerly the Peter F. Drucker Foundation for Nonprofit Management. In 2005, following Drucker’s death, the Foundation was renamed for Hesselbein. In 2009 she helped found the Hesselbein Global Academy for Student Leadership and Civic Engagement at the University of Pittsburgh.
Among her many honors in addition to her Presidential Medal of Freedom, she has received an astounding 23 honorary doctoral degrees. The University of Pittsburgh has established the Frances Hesselbein Leadership Forum in her honor. Pitt has also named her as a Distinguished Alumna and Pitt Legacy Laureate. She also has been awarded the Distinguished Daughter of Pennsylvania Award, the Dwight D. Eisenhower National Security Award, and the Girl Scouts of the USA Lifetime Achievement Award.
She also serves on the Boards of Directors of Mutual of America Life Insurance Company, the Bright China Social Fund, the California Institute of Advanced Management, and the Teachers College, Columbia University Presidents Advisory Council. From 2009 to 2011 she served as the Class of 1951 Chair for the Study of Leadership at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, the first female and the first non-graduate of West Point to hold that position. Her latest venture was as CEO of the Frances Hesselbein Leadership Institute. Oh, yeah … somehow in her spare time she has authored or co-authored 27 books that have been published in 29 languages.
And that Presidential Medal of Freedom she was awarded? Well, she received it in 1998 for her work with the Girls Scouts. Most of that other stuff happened later. They would have probably had to invent a new award to honor her properly for all she has done. In November 2013, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, she and a few other recipients were invited to the White House by President Barack Obama.
Frances attributes her success to her opportunity to grow up in Johnstown. She has two axioms that she offers to anyone who wants to be successful in life: First, Listen. Second, Be On Time. She believes that nobody has ever been really successful who didn’t follow those simple pieces of advice.
I have not found any indication that she has passed away, but did find an article indicating she presented a speech in 2012 at the age of 99, and another in 2018 talking about the celebration of her 103rd birthday. By all indications, she is still around, and this amazing lady is probably still doing great things.
Tomorrow: Bottle Works Ethnic Arts Center
Photo credits: Girl Scout History Project
Most Johnstowners will recognize the names of Frank and Sylvia Pasquerilla. Born in Johnstown, Frank began his working career as a state highway clerk, joined Crown Construction Company in the early 1950s, and became Crown’s president in 1953. From this austere beginning he became one of the wealthiest men in Pennsylvania. Unlike many wealthy tycoons who are only interested in making more money, Frank and his wife Sylvia chose to do good things with their wealth, becoming philanthropists and donating millions of dollars to worthy causes. They donated $2,000,000 to the Pittsburgh Opera, helped pay for three buildings at the University of Notre Dame, another one at Georgetown University Medical Center, and many others. Locally, he paid for the library at St. Francis University, gave $1,000,000 to help create the Heritage Discovery Center, paid for the big fountain in Central Park, and donated $6,800,000 to construct the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center at UPJ, among others. It is this last facility that will be today’s subject.
The Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center opened in September 1991 and became the premier cultural destination in the region almost immediately. When UPJ moved to its new campus in 1967, it had no space for the performing arts, placing its theater department at a distinct disadvantage. Without the assistance of Frank and Sylvia Pasquerilla, that still may be the case. Instead, the PPAC, as it is often referred to locally, provides a state-of-the art facility covering 42,000 square feet that includes a 1,000-seat concert hall renowned for its outstanding acoustics, a 200-seat black box theater, a branch of the Southern Alleghenies Museum of Art, and office space.
In addition to housing the UPJ music and theater departments and their related productions, it has become the home of the Johnstown Symphony Orchestra, the Johnstown Concert Ballet, the River City Brass Band, the Stage Door Series for children, Out of his Mind Dance Studio, Concepts Dance Company, and Le Dance Academie. Well known lecturers such as former Vice-President Dick Cheney, Dr. Cyril Wecht, Congressman John Murtha and others have also graced the stage.
Every year the PPAC hosts a wide array of exciting performances, including full-scale Broadway touring companies, music that ranges from the symphony to popular music artists, classical ballet to modern and international dance, and internationally known jazz artists! Those who have performed at the PPAC are unanimous in their praise for the facility.
The construction of the PPAC included numerous revolutionary features not found in many Broadway theaters. The acoustiscs are easily modified by adjusting motorized panels to meet the needs for the type of performance. The stage features a “sprung floor” that is loved by dancers and other performers for its shock absorbing characteristics. And the PPAC thought of its patrons as well, providing wheelchair accessibility, wheelchair seating, and listening devices for those with hearing impairments.
The local branch of the Southern Allegheny Museum of Art (SAMA), housed in the PPAC, was featured in its own post here in early December. In addition to the rotating exhibits and displays, the PPAC location also features workshops for aspiring artists. Two unique programs are the workshops for veterans and local citizens suffering from mental and physical ailments. SAMA’s Healthcare Partnership Program works in conjunction with the Conemaugh Health System to bring relief to those feeling emotional or physical pain or discomfort. More than 800 individuals in western and central Pennsylvania have been helped by this program. The artwork produced in these workshops are periodically showcased in exhibits in the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center’s SAMA gallery.
In short, the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center is a cultural jewel in our city that produces fantastic programs for all ages. If you’ve never been there, it’s a great local venue to add to your bucket list.
Tomorrow: Frances Hesselbein
Photo Credits: UPJ
Linda Renzi was born September 6, 1942 in Princeton, West Virginia, the daughter of Conley L. and Girlie M. (Kade) White. Following graduation for high school she attended Concord College in West Virginia, competing in basketball, track, softball, swimming, and gymnastics. At Concord, she was named Outstanding Female Athlete three times in her four-year career.
Following her graduation from Concord College she began working at Richland High School here in Johnstown, teaching Health and Physical Education. She held that position for 30 years, coaching both girls’ and boys’ volleyball, girls’ basketball, and girls’ track. Her girls’ volleyball team won the District 6 championship 25 times in her 30 years, as well as 28 league and conference championships. They won seven state championships, four of them consecutively (1983-1986). That would be the mark of a successful coach in any sport, but her boys’ teams also won seven District 6 championships, she coached more than 500 winning games in girls’ basketball, and in 1975 one of her girls’ javelin throwers, Sharon Hagerich, won the state championship.
In 2002 and 2003 she served as an assistant coach with the UPJ women’s volleyball team, moving up to interim head coach in 2004. In 2005 she was named full-time head coach of the UPJ women’s volleyball team. She coached the team for nine years, leading them to a 136-119 record. In 2012 she coached the team to an 18-8 record, 10-4 in the West Virginia Intercollegiate Athletic Conference. The team had been picked in the pre-season to finish ninth in the conference. That performance gained her the conference’s Coach of the year award.
In 1995 she was inducted into the Pennsylvania Volleyball Coaches Hall of Fame. She ws hnored with he induction into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 2002, and was so highly thought of that she later became a member of their selection committee, serving in that capacity for 10 years until her health deteriorated.
Linda passed away December 23, 2019 and was laid to rest in Richland Cemetery.
Clifton T. Speicher was born March 25, 1931 in the village of Gray, Somerset County. At age 20 he enlisted in Company F of the 223rd Infantry Regiment, 40th Infantry Division, and two years later was serving in Korea as a Light Weapons Infantryman.
On June 14, 1952 the young corporal was part of an assault on a hostile position near Minarigol in North Korea. His squad was under orders to take a hill that was considered to be a key terrain feature. He was wounded when his squad came under intense small-arms, mortar, and machine gun fire. Despite his wound and the intense fire, he cautiously lifted his head enough to determine where the resistance was coming from. Before ducking back down, he spotted a fortified bunker nearby that contained a machine gun crew.
Leaving his position of relative safety, he charged the machine gun emplacement that had the squad pinned down. In the charge, he got to within 10 yards of the North Korean’s position before he was wounded a second time. Ignoring his wounds he entered the bunker, shooting and killing two of the enemy. He killed a third man with his bayonet, silencing the machine gun.
The others in his squad were taken by surprise when Speicher launched his one-man attack, but when they realized what he was doing they joined in and helped complete the mission. Speicher, dazed and in pain, forced himself to walk down the hill. Reaching the bottom, he collapsed and died. His remains were brought home for burial in the Beam German Reformed Church Cemetery in Jennerstown. He was 21 years old.
A little more than a year later, on August 19, 1953, Speicher was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, our nation’s highest military award for valor. The Medal was presented to Speicher’s father in the Pentagon Auditorium by Under Secretary of the Army Earl D. Johnson.
With that award, issued under the Department of the Army’s General Orders Number 65, he became the fourth Somerset County native to achieve that honor. Francis Cunningham and John Mostoller each had received theirs for their actions in the Civil War. George Henry Ramer had received his just eight months before Speicher, for heroism at the Battle of the Punchbowl, also in Korea. Cunningham, Mostoller, and Ramer have all been remembered here in earlier posts. Corporal Speicher was one of only 136 recipients from the Korean War out of 5,700,000 Americans who fought there.
In addition to his Medal of Honor, Speicher was awarded the Purple Heart, the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Marksmanship Badge, the Korean Service Medal, the United Nations Service Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, the Republic of Korea War Service Medal, the Republic of Korea Presidential Citation, the Army Presidential Unit Citation, and the Army Good Conduct Medal.
On November 11, 2009, Veterans Day, Speicher’s family took part in a ceremony in the Somerset County Office Building on North Center Avenue in Somerset. There, they donated Speicher’s Medal of Honor and Purple Heart to the Somerset County Veterans Hall of Honor. A crowd of nearly 200 had assembled to remember the local hero.
Clifton Speicher is remembered at the Korean War Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC. His name is also inscribed on the Wall of Remembrance at the United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Korea
Tomorrow: Linda Renzi
Photo credits: Portrait, Service Ribbons, and Medal of Honor – U. S. Army; Korean War Memorial- personal photo
On September 11, 2001 terrorists flew planes into the World Trade Center’s twin towers in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington. A fourth plane, believed to be headed for the United States Capitol Building in Washington, failed in its attempt when the 44 passengers on the plane chose to fight back. That plane crashed into a field near Shanksville, killing all on board.
National memorials were established at each site. But there was another memorial at Shanksville that doesn’t get much publicity. It isn’t a national memorial, or even a state memorial. However, it is no less important. It was the vision of Rev. Alphonse “Father Fonzie” Mascherino that brought it about when he saw a “For Sale” sign on an old chapel that had been abandoned on Coleman Station Road.
The chapel had once served as a Lutheran Church. In 1969 the church was closed and the building was used for seed storage. When Rev. Mascherino saw it for the first time he knew he had to have it. He had seen a similar small roadside chapel in Germany a few years earlier. Although it would require a lot of time and effort, the priest wanted to make this one into a shrine of its own, a place where visitors could come to reflect on the heroism of those passengers on United Airlines Flight 93.
Somehow, he was able to get a loan, putting up $300 cash and his antique collection as collateral. That loan helped purchase the run-down chapel and help start reclamation. Any time he got $50 saved up, he went to a lumber yard with a list of things he needed. He would get whatever $50 would buy, then return the next time he got $50 and repeat. After a while, the lumber yard, 84 Lumber, learned what Mascherino was doing. They kicked in $23,000. This windfall was a big help, but the entire project as envisioned by the priest would cost $150,000. Again, 84 Lumber came to the rescue, taking over the entire project. Word leaked out and volunteers from as far as 50 miles away showed up to help. In 10 days, the work was done … just in time for the first anniversary of the attack.
Not sitting back and resting once the chapel was finished, Mascherino continued collecting items associated with the attack and the families of the passengers. He gathered signs and other remembrances that had been left at the makeshift memorial at the crash site. He was given relics from the World Trade Center, personal items belonging to the passengers that were donated by the families, including a model plane that had been constructed by the pilot when he was only 11 years old. It was a replica of a United Airlines plane.
People who came to visit were often so moved after visiting the chapel that they sent items to the priest as soon as they returned home. Many were hand-made, like the memorial’s stained glass window, or the quilts made by a group of Berks County women. The CAUSE Foundation, founded by a retired United Airlines Flight Attendant in 1994, donated a 14-foot tall, 16-ton black granite memorial to the crew of the plane, to be placed in a memorial garden behind the chapel. The memorial, shown in one of the attached photos, would be surrounded by granite benches engraved with the names of the passengers and likenesses of the crew members.
The chapel itself consists of a sanctuary and a meditation room. That room features biographies of each of the passengers and crew. A tower outside the chapel contains a bell, known as the Thunder Bell, that visitors are encouraged to ring four times … once for each of the planes that crashed on September 11, 2001. In the first 10 years, Mascherino counted 300,000 visitors.
In 2007 Father Mascherino was excommunicated from the Roman Catholic church after a dispute with his bishop, who saw the chapel as a commendable project but not compatible with Father Mascherino’s duties as a priest. The priest took it all in stride … he could now devote all his time to the chapel.
Father Mascherino died on February 15, 2013 after his fourth bout with cancer. His remains were returned to his home in Chester County, where he was buried in Saint Joseph Cemetery in Downington. Meanwhile, his chapel, the one that was started with $300 and a lot of faith, lives on. It has gained international recognition and continues to attract visitors from around the world.
Tomorrow: Clifton T. Speicher, Medal of Honor recipient
Photo credits: Father Mascherino – Find-a-Grave; Other Photos – personal collection
The subject of todays post, Jerry Zahorchak, was suggested by Joanne Magro. Thnk you, Joanne. I appreciate the suggestion.
Dr. Gerald Zahorchak was born in Johnstown and stayed at home to go to college, graduating from St. Francis with his Bachelor’s degree in 1980. While at St. Francis he played football, setting the Red Flash single-season record for tackles with 138. He also holds the single-game record with 27 tackles. He went on to obtain his Master’s degree from IUP and his doctorate from Penn State.
Upon his graduation from St. Francis he began his education career, teaching in the Greater Johnstown School District, North Star School District, and Shanksville-Stonycreek School District. At North Star he also coached the football team. After teaching at Shanksville-Stonycreek for three years, he returned for a second stint at North Star, this time as principal and strategic planning coordinator. In 1996 he returned to the city school system as a federal programs and personnel director, and the next year he was promoted to Superintendent. He also found time to serve on the school board, get elected to city council, and serve as Johnstown deputy mayor.
In March 2003 he was hired as Pennsylvania’s Deputy Secretary for Elementary and Secondary Education, overseeing the education of more than 1,800,000 public school students. When Secretary Vicki Phillips left her position in August 2004, Zahorchak stepped up to serve as Acting Secretary for two months, until a new Secretary was hired. When that secretary left the position a year later, Zahorchak once again became Acting Secretary.
In October 2005 he was appointed Pennsylvania Secretary of Education. By this time he had gained such a reputation that he had the support of both major political parties. His confirmation hearings were formalities, and the state senate unanimously confirmed his appointment in February, 2006. In his new position he implemented many revolutionary programs across the state, including state funding for pre-kindergarten and full-day kindergarten, more training for principals, and easier ways for college students to transfer credits if they moved to another college.
On May 7, 2010, he submitted his resignation, timing it to coincide with a new governor coming on. He left the office feeling very proud of what he had accomplished. When he had taken over the position, there had been 14 school districts that had fewer than half their students testing above basic levels. When he left, there were none.
When he left his state office he took the position of Superintendent of the Allentown School District. He was the unanimous selection over four other finalists for the position. On August 17, 2011 he resigned as superintendent to become the district’s Director of Strategic Initiatives. He currently serves as Associate Professor of Education and Division Chair at UPJ.
Dr. Zahorchak has received numerous awards over his distinguished career, including being named by the Pennsylvania Jaycees as Pennsylvania’s Outstanding Young Citizen in 1991 and 1996. In 2002 St. Francis University named him Distinguished Alumnus in Education and presented him with the University President’s Outstanding Educator Award. On November 17, 2007, the university honored him with induction into the Athletics Hall of Fame. In December 2009, Zahorchak received an honorary doctor of laws degree from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, making him one of about only 50 people to receive that distinction
Tomorrow: Flight 93 Memorial Chapel
Photo credits: Football Photo – St. Francis University; Formal Portrait – UPJ
I just spent an extremely enjoyable time talking on the phone with 92-year old Frank Zack, a former umpire and player for the Johnstown Johnnies. Frank’s daughter, Kathy, put me in touch with him and I’m glad she did. Frank has some health issues, but he was sharp as a tack and he told me some great baseball stories, as well as some fond memories of his time in the Marines, umpiring, and his younger days. I enjoyed every minute of it. I recognized many of the names he talked about from old local baseball leagues. One of them, Roy (Jigger) Johns, became a coach that I played for many years ago.
Frank even was in a group photo that appeared on the cover of Life Magazine from when he was at Minor League spring training in the old Brooklyn Dodgers organization. He doesn’t remember which one he is in the photo, but I found the photo and have it attached. I hope I make it to 92, and if I do, I hope I’m as sharp as Frank. Frank, stay healthy, and Kathy, thank you again for putting me in touch with him. What an enjoyable conversation!
Most of us have attended some type of event at the War Memorial at some time in our lives. Maybe you went to a hockey game or basketball game, maybe a concert or political rally, or maybe you even had your graduation there. But have you ever given much thought to the name of the building? It wasn’t named the War Memorial because the name had a nice ring to it. It truly is what the name says: it is a memorial to those from Cambria County who left the comfort of home and went off to some far-off land to fight in battles in places that we sometimes couldn’t even pronounce. It is those men and women who are honored by the War Memorial, not some rock star or hockey player. We must never forget that, or what they did.
A few weeks ago I contacted Josh Hauser, Community Operations Director of the Veteran Community Initiatives, Inc. and asked if he could provide me with some information that would make a good post. Josh came through with flying colors. In the interest of full disclosure, Josh is married to our niece, Jennifer. What you are about to read is the result of the hard work that Josh has done, along with my friend Tom Cauffiel, and the staff at VCI. Thanks to all of you, but especially Josh, for putting this information together.
The War Memorial has been around for more than 75 years. I posted about it on December 8 so I won’t go into a lot of detail about the building or how it came to be. Now known as the 1st Summit Arena at Cambria County War Memorial, the building has been around long enough that it is an institution in downtown Johnstown. It is one way the county says thank you to our veterans.
We know that the War Memorial contains plaques and photos relating to the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. We just finished a three-part series on the 142 honorees in that group. But did you know that we also have a Cambria County Military Hall of Fame? It consists of 56 individuals who went above and beyond the call of duty, and they have plaques, too. There are some familiar names there, many of them written about here; men like Iwo Jima flag raiser Michael Strank; Boyd “Buzz” Wagner, America’s first WW II Flying Ace; General George B. Simler, commander of NATO Allied Forces in Southern Europe; and General Charles Menoher, commander of the famed Rainbow Division.
The Hall of Fame honors heroes from the Civil War, both World Wars, Korea, and Vietnam. There are eight Medal of Honor recipients, 15 who received the Distinguished Service Cross, and seven who were awarded the Navy Cross. There are also four Congressmen, an Ambassador, a White House photographer, an inventor, and even a coach and an actor. And while we don’t often give women in the military enough credit, there are also three women in the Hall of Fame.
But the War Memorial is not just the Hall of Fame. It also honors every Cambria Countian who made the ultimate sacrifice. There were 201 who didn’t return from World War I. You may remember that WW I was called the “War to End All Wars.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and another 863 from Cambria County lost their lives in World War II. Vietnam claimed 71 young men, including 51 who were killed in action and six more who died later of their wounds. Two have been declared Missing in Action, and another 12 died in service. One of those killed in action, Harry Cramer, was the first American killed in the Vietnam War. He was the subject of a post on August 23. The list of those killed in Korea is still not completed, but it will be substantial. Those who died came from all parts of the county, from the city to some of the smallest hamlets. Their names appear on bronze plaques at the arena. None will be forgotten.
There are 49 names on a separate plaque, listing those who went through the terrifying experience of being a prisoner of war. Some of them were barely old enough to shave, and they were forced to endure the indignities, starvation, and in many cases, torture, that POWs suffer when held by the enemy. Uncertain if they would ever see their families again, or even if their families knew they were still alive, they stood strong and resisted. Fortunately, most of these men returned home eventually, but they would never be the same. There were three from the Civil War, five from Korea, one of the famed Iran hostages, and one, Robert Bliss, who was captured in Vietnam. The rest on the list are from World War II.
The War Memorial even recognizes those families who have sent their sons and daughters off to war. A list of every family would contain hundreds, maybe thousands, of families and would not be practical. The War Memorial has chosen to recognize those families who have sent at least five or more of their children to the military. There are 62 such families, with the Emmett McCabe family of Lilly having sent an astonishing 11 children to serve. The McCabes are followed closely by Mr. and Mrs. John Lehman of Johnstown, with 10, and Mr. and Mrs. Sam Miner from Beaverdale, who had 9 children serve. There were four families who sent 8, nine who sent 7, another 21 families with 6, and 26 with 5. These 62 families are honored by a plaque in the arena’s concourse, as well.
A small Veterans Memorial Museum has been set up in a special room that contains uniforms, photos, patches, medals, personal items, and even an actual discharge certificate from the Civil War. It is a place where visitors can take a moment and reflect, and thank those who are honored there.
The arena lobby and concourse contain paintings, flags, uniforms and more, in addition to the plaques already mentioned. An interactive kiosk was installed last October that enables visitors to view special commemorative videos of some of those who served from the county. There is even a plaque listing the 18 bridges in the county that bear the name of a veteran. Inside the arena itself, look on the back of your seat. You may see a small marker with a name on it. That is the name of a local veteran who has been honored by his or her family with the placement of that marker.
So next time you happen to be in the arena, before you get caught up in the action of the game or the sounds of the concert, take a moment or two to think about what the arena really represents. And when you see a veteran, tell him or her you appreciate their service.
Tomorrow: Jerry Zahorchak
Photo Credits: Mural: Tribune-Democrat; others: War Memorial
Just a few days ago I posted the first in a series of three postings about the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame and the 142 individuals who had been honored by that organization. One of those inductees was General George B. Simler, honored for his efforts in Athletic Administration in the Class of 2016. But General Simler was more than just a Sports Administrator. He was also a war hero.
Simler was born on February 16, 1921 in Johnstown. I had originally intended to post his story earlier, but when I saw his birth date I decided to hold it for today, his birthday. General Simler graduated from Ferndale High School, where he was a lineman on the 1937 Yellow Jackets football team that went 9-1-1. He then attended the University of Maryland, receiving his commission as a Second Lieutenant in the Army Air Corps before he graduated. He returned to the university four years later as the first professor of Air Science and Tactics and later enrolled as a student again, this time completing his courses and graduating in 1948. In his senior year he was captain of the Maryland football team that played to a 20-20 tie against Georgia in the 1948 Gator Bowl. Following graduation, he remained in the Air Force, going on to graduate from the National War College in 1961.
Before doing this, however, he served two combat tours during World War II and had been shot down on the second of those tours. For more than two months he evaded capture, returning to Allied lines safely in September, 1944. Following the war he served as commander of both the 86th Fighter-Bomber Group and the 355th Fighter Group.
In 1957 he was assigned to the United States Air Force Academy, where he served as Athletic Director from 1957 to 1960. Although he was only the Falcons’ athletic director for four years, he was instrumental in the establishment of two major milestones. In the first, he was credited with selecting the site for the Air Force Academy’s Falcon Stadium. In the second, he led the campaign to establish the Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy, awarded each year to the winner of the three-way football competition between the Air Force, Naval, and Military Academies.
After leaving the Air Force Academy he served in various roles, including commander of the 18th Tactical Fighter Wing. Under his command the 18th became the first group in the Pacific Air Forces to convert to the F-105 Thunderchief. After serving as commander of the Tactical Fighter Weapons Center at Nellis Air Force Base, he was assigned to Southeast Asia, where he was Director of Operations of the Seventh Air Force. In that position he flew combat missions in every tactical strike aircraft assigned to the Seventh.
After serving in Southeast Asia, he assumed a new position as Director of Operations at Headquarters, U. S. Air Force in 1967, Vice Commander of the United States Air Forces in Europe in 1969, and Commander of Air Training Command in September 1970.
On September 9, 1972, while piloting a T-38 Talon jet trainer at Randolph Cir Force Base in Texas, he crashed on takeoff. Simler and his aide, Captain Gil Gillespie, were both killed. Simler had been scheduled for a promotion to general three days later, when he was to take command of the Military Airlift Command at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois. He was posthumously promoted to General on August 16, 1972. His remains were returned to the Air Force Academy for burial.
Simler’s military decorations include the Air Force Distinguished Service Medal with oak leaf cluster, Legion of Merit with oak leaf cluster, Distinguished Flying Cross with oak leaf cluster, Air Medal with 11 oak leaf clusters, Air Force Commendation Medal, Army Commendation Medal, Purple Heart, and the Vietnam Air Gallantry Cross.
Tomorrow: Cambria County Military Hall of Fame
Photo Credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
Beginning in 1960 or so, and continuing for the next 30 years, K & J Coal Company conducted a massive surface mining operation near Patton. One of the pieces of equipment they utilized was a huge drag line known as the “Appalachian Lady.” The Appalachian Lady gouged out large chunks of the landscape in the process of scooping up the coal. When the mine played out, the equipment was moved out of the area, leaving 67 acres of moonscape-looking terrain.
It appeared that those 67 acres were destined to become much like other abandoned strip mines across the country for about 10 years, until the Pennsylvania State Department of Conservation and Natural Resources saw the potential to convert the property into a recreation area. Bolstered by a $2,000,000 grant from the state’s ATV/Snowmobile Fund, the DCNR purchased the property.
Today it is owned by the Cambria County Conservation and Recreation Authority and is now known as the Rock Run Recreation Area. In 2002 the Rock Run Recreation Project began as a pilot project for the DCNR. A multi-phase development project, the first phase opened for busines in 2007, with 50 miles of ATV, dirt bike, and off-highway vehicle trails, a welcome center, parking areas, and primitive camping areas. There are now more than 350 primitive sites spread out over six camping areas. A shower house is available based on temperature conditions. Camping is available as a convenience for riders, and Rock Run emphasizes that, saying they are not a campground, per se, but are a riding facility that provides camping for those who are riding in the complex.
Today there are 6000 acres and 140 miles of color-coded trails to accommodate all skill levels. Green trails are the easiest and are recommended for those with the least experience. Blue trails are moderately hard, for those with some experience but not yet ready for the most difficult terrain. Trails marked as black are only for those with greater skill levels. The three loops are interconnected and are designed for two-way travel, with the exception of some of the steeper downhill sections where safety dictates only one-way travel.
The terrain offers a wide variety of scenery, from heavily wooded areas to deep ravines. Stream crossings are facilitated by a bridge system, and the thousands of rocks that were dumped during the coal mining operation now form a challenging boulder field that riders say is reminiscent of riding in the Rocky Mountains. Those familiar with the trail system say that the scenic vistas are unmatched. A side benefit may be the sighting of wild game, including beavers, deer, bears, wild turkeys, and even the occasional bald eagle.
Rock Run has two major special events each year. The Summer Blast is held over four days late in the summer and the entire area is closed to regular riding. Special events, which vary from year to year, may include live entertainment, vendors, factory demo rides, races, and special events for kids, and only those with event passes can take part. At the end of summer, the big event is Rally at the Rock, marking the official end of the summer riding season. Riding the trails one last time, tons of food, guided tours, and vendors make this an event that makes the end of summer just a bit more bearable.
Today the park entertains visitors from throughout the East, with some riders from deep in the Midwest. Rock Run bills itself as the “Premier ATV Recreation Park East of the Mississippi.” And you’ll hear no argument from anyone who has been there.
Tomorrow: General George Simler
Photo credits: Rock Run Recreation Area
The Johnstown area has had three local umpires make it to the major leagues. We’ve already talked about two of them in the past few months: Tony Venzon and Augie Donatelli. Today we’ll hear about the third, Frank Dezelan.
Frank was born December 29, 1929, grew up in Bon Air, and served in the Navy when fighting in Korea broke out. While in the Navy he played baseball when the opportunity presented itself, which wasn’t often on board a ship. When he returned home, he resumed playing sandlot baseball on local fields. His route to umpiring in the major leagues, however, took an unusual direction.
It all began while he was seated in a dentist’s chair. There, while discussing baseball with his dentist, Dezelan must have lamented that he would never be good enough to play professionally, because his dentist suggested that he try umpiring.
After giving it further consideration at home, he decided that umpiring would keep him connected to the sport he loved, and he applied to the Al Somers Academy of Professional Umpiring in Daytona Beach. He was thrilled when he received his letter of acceptance.
After graduating from the Somers Academy in 1958, Dezelan began his umpiring career in the Northern League. He spent two seasons there, but attained legendary status for something he did before a game. It was a double header and one of the managers was Earl Weaver. Weaver eventually became a manager in the major leagues and was voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1996. Even in the minors, though, Weaver had developed a reputation for being an umpire’s worst nightmare. In one particular Northern League game that Dezelan was to umpire, Weaver began complaining before the game even started that there were some tree limbs that came too close to the playing field. After listening to Weaver gripe for several minutes, Dezelan reportedly had enough and threw Weaver out before the teams had even taken the field.
After umpiring in the South Atlantic, Pacific Coast, and International Leagues, Dezelan was finally called up to the National League on a trial basis for the final few weeks of the season in 1966, 1967, and 1968. In 1969 he became a full time major league umpire, at a time when there were only 24 umpires in the major leagues. His wife, Irene, used to joke that there were four times as many U.S. Senators.
In his short career he was part of several milestone games. He was the plate umpire when Willie Mays hit his 600th career home run in 1969. One of his most treasured mementos from baseball was a Willie Mays model bat with Dezelan’s name on it from that game. In 1970 he umpired in the first game played at Three Rivers Stadium. Also that summer he was part of the umpiring crew for the All Star game that ended with the infamous collision at home plate when Pete Rose barreled into American League catcher Ray Fosse. Fosse would never recover fully from the impact. Although he had 16 homeruns at the All Star break, he only hit two more the rest of the season, and only 43 over the next eight years of his career.
On October 1, 1970, Frank was the umpire behind the plate for the last game of the season. The Cincinnati Reds would win 4-1 over the Atlanta Braves, with Atlanta’s only run coming on Hank Aaron’s 592nd home run. It was destined to be the last game Frank would ever umpire.
Not long after the season ended he began having headaches and blurred vision, and Irene said his signature didn’t look right. Frank blamed it all on a traffic accident that they had been in a few years earlier. Finally, when he woke up one morning in December, thrashing and flailing while having a seizure, Irene insisted that he see his doctor. Test results were not what anyone wanted to hear. He had a brain tumor. Surgery removed the tumor, but a few months later he was diagnosed with bacterial meningitis. More surgery was needed to repair a hole in his sinus. His umpiring days were over. The tumor kept coming back, and he endured six more brain surgeries over the next 40 years.
Despite being an umpire, he was also a fan, and Dezelan said he had several favorite players. He liked being the plate umpire when Sandy Koufax or Bob Gibson pitched, because they were so efficient. He also liked Roberto Clemente because he never argued about Dezelan’s calls. Other favorites included Willie Stargell, Sparky Anderson, and Carl Yastrzemski. He even got to umpire one game in which Satchel Paige pitched.
Frank Dezelan finally lost his battle with that tumor on March 7, 2011. He was 81 years old.
Tomorrow: Rock Run Recreation Area
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
oday’s post is the third and last in a series of posts about the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame and those who have been inducted. The Hall of Fame honors athletes who have achieved national recognition and brought positive attention to Cambria County, and those whose names appear with an asterisk are those who have already had their individual stories posted. Some have performed well on the national level. Many were college stars and All-Americans. Still others made it to the highest level of professional sports. Whatever their level of performance, all were outstanding at what they did.
We’ll start off today with those selected for their football ability. As mentioned in the initial post about the Hall of Fame, this constitutes the largest single group represented in the hall, with 49 members. The initial 1965 class of 18 members included three associated with football. Two, Frank Schwab and Tom Yewcic* were players. Andrew Kerr (considered one of the greatest innovators in the game of football) was the sole coach inductee that year. In 1967 Duffy Daugherty* (coach), Ron Kostelnik (player), and Frank Kush* (coach) were inducted. Player Andy Kozar was the only 1969 honoree, and Player Leon Gajecki was the only one in 1971. The year 1973 was a good year for football inductees, with several household names at the national level selected, including players Pete Duranko*, Jack Ham*, Cadwallader Reese (who also coached), Steve Smear*, and Larry Walton.
In 1975 John Matsko, Steve Petro (another player who gained a level of fame as a coach), and John Stofa* made up the football contingent. At that point the Hall switched to even-numbered years for selecting members, skipping 1976 but selecting John Badaczewski (player), John Kawchak (coach), Joe Restick (coach who also played NFL football and major league baseball), and Steve Terebus (player and coach) in 1978. There was no class in 1980, but in 1981 Gary Hrivnak and Jeff Richardson* were both inducted as players. The next class inducted was in 1984, when for the first time, nobody from football was part of the class. The Hall then took a hiatus until 1990, when Ralph Albarano (player), Carlton Haselrig* (a Pro Bowl NFL player who was also selected for wrestling), and Jeff Hostetler (Super Bowl champion quarterback) were selected.
Another break, this time for eight years, was taken, and in the first class after the break, 1998, player George Azar and coaches Tom Bradley and Dave Hart were chosen. In 2000 the Hall inducted nobody, but in 2002 player Tom Kalminar was selected as the only football player in the class. In 2004 the selections included Ed Adamchik (player) and Frank Solich (coach). The inclusion of football representatives picked up in 2006 with the selections of Phil Albert (for playing and coaching), Moses Gray (player), and George Mihalik (coach). Tom Vargo (player) and Ed Denk (player) were selected in 2008, and 2010 saw Jerry Davitch (coach), Artrell Hawkins, Jr.* (player), and Joe Popp (coach) become members.
In 2012, Ed Stetz was the only player selected, as was John Kasay, Sr. in 2014, selected for playing and coaching. Evan Slonac and Geroy Simon* were both selected as players in 2016, and in 2018 players Fran Urban and LaRod Stephens-
Howling gained their membership, along with Chris Peduzzi, selected for both playing and being an athletic trainer. Last year’s class, the latest one, included two players Andrew Hawkins* and Brad Stramanak and one coach, Don Bailey.
In 2108 the Hall selected two people associated with Hockey and one other category: Dana Heinze for Equipment Management and Hockey, and Chris Stewart for Athletic Trainer and Hockey. Dana has been part of four Stanley Cup Championships, three with Pittsburgh and one with Tampa Bay. Seven members have been selected for their golfing skills: Charles Kunkle, Jr. (selected in 1965), Clayton Dovey (in 1969 for baseball and golf), Frank Kiraly (1978), Bert Battell (1998), William Price (2004), William Crooks (2008), and John Goettlicher (2016). Hockey also has seven members enshrined: Don Hall (1965), Dick Roberge (1967), John Mitchell (1984), Galen Head (2006), Ed Johnston (2014), as well as Dana Heinze and Chris Stewart mentioned earlier
Swimming and Tennis have both been represented by two outstanding athletes each, Johnny Weismuller* in 1967 and Robert Zubrod in 1975 for swimming, and Dr. David O’Loughlin (1965) and Susan Minchau (2006). There have been five inductees for Track and Field: William W. Bloor (1965), Patty Bradley-Marino (2008, the daughter of inductee Dr. James Bradley in Sports Medicine), Tammy Etienne (2010), Karlee McQuillen (2016), and Melissa Myers (2020, who was also enshrined for Volleyball).
Several sports have had only one representative selected since HOF elections began: Jockey Bill (Don’t Call Me Willie) Hartack* (1971); Robert S. Waters in 1965 for Hunting; Hugh Conrad for Officiating (1971); Dr. James Bradley, Sports Medicine (2008); George S. Cooper for Sports Promotion/Media (1965); Joe DelSignore, Sr. in Water Skiing (2002); Lesley Cens-McDowell for Triathlon (1990); and Bruce Haselrig for Wrestling Officiating (2012).
There has been one brother-brother combination (Artrell Hawkins, Jr*. and Andrew Hawkins*, both in football), one father-daughter combination (Dr. James Bradley in Sports Medicine and Patty Bradley-Marino in Track and Field), and one uncle-nephew combination (Bruce Haslerig in Wrestling Officiating and Carlton Haselrig* in Wrestling and Football).
This concludes the three-part series on the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame inductees. I recognize that not everyone is a sports fan, but I thought you still may enjoy seeing some of the names from the past that brought honor to themselves and their city.
Tomorrow: General George Simler
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
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Not long ago I posted about the AmeriServ Flood City Music Festival, tracing its origins back to 1990 when it started out as the National Folk Festival. When the National Folk Festival left at the end of its three-year contract, Johnstown Area Heritage Association, which sponsored the local edition of the Folk Festival, decided to keep it going as an independent festival. That event grew to the point where a number of concerns arose related to holding such a large event in a congested neighborhood. JAHA and co-sponsor AmeriServ Financial decided to relocate the event from Cambria City to Peoples Natural Gas Park in 2004. The format was also changed from exclusively folk music to a larger variety of musical genres.
As so often happens when an event moves, even if it is only a mile or so, as it was in this case, a vacuum is perceived in the previous venue. Such was the case in Cambria City, where the original Folk Festival was staged. And when a vacuum occurs, something usually moves in to fill the void. The people of the Cambria City neighborhood decided to launch their own festival, with a tie-in to the ethnic makeup of the area, and the Cambria City Ethnic Festival was born.
Why an ethnic festival? And why Cambria City? The answers are simple. In the early to mid-1800s thousands of immigrants flocked to Johnstown seeking employment in the area’s mines and steel mills. Often, it only took one member of a family to come at first, but before long dozens more from the same family arrived after hearing of the area’s beauty and similarity to the Old Country. Many gravitated to Cambria City, for a number of reasons. The presence of other family members was a large draw, of course, as well as others from the same country. And our history shows that immigrants were not treated well, in many cases. Living near others who were experiencing the same discrimination somehow made it more bearable. Quite often, that led them to Cambria City.
Once here, the immigrants knew they would probably never return to their native country, so they tried to replicate what they had back home. Churches arose, each one catering to a different ethnic group. Church services were conducted in the native language of the group it served, and interior decorations took on a touch from their former home country. Social clubs provided an outlet from the stresses of living in a country where the language was different, and where many of those already here made little effort to hide their disdain for the newcomers.
Today, Cambria City is populated by many families who descend from those very immigrants. And they maintain the old traditions and customs. So, if you’re going to hold an ethnic festival, what better location is there than the historic Cambria City neighborhood, where those customs and traditions are still so strong? This neighborhood, and by extension, this festival, is truly a melting pot.
The first festival was held the year after the Music Festival moved to PNG Park and it became an instant hit. It featured ethnic foods, live ethnic music and dance, and tours of the many ethnic churches in the neighborhood. Not much has changed since that first event, except it has become even bigger and more popular. Just as was done when the Music Festival was held there, Chestnut Street is blocked off to traffic from Third Avenue to Tenth Avenue, with the entire distance lined with vendors and entertainment. The Ethnic Festival continues to host large crowds every year over Labor Day Weekend.
Many say that the neighborhood itself is as much a draw as the festival, and it’s hard to argue with that. The neighborhood is becoming its own destination, to be sure, with new restaurants, art galleries, performance venues, and an interesting blend of homes and businesses. But the ethnicity that created the neighborhood in the first place more than 150 years ago still maintains its “feel.” A myriad of languages can be heard in the walk through the festival, and T-shirts and other souvenirs with ethnic flags and phrases can be purchased at one of the vendor tents along the way.
If you like ethnic music there is no better place to be on Labor Day weekend. Local, regional, and touring bands offer outstanding music, and it’s all free! With multiple performance locations, it isn’t difficult to find something going on at any time the festival is open. The sound of polkas, bluegrass, Celtic, gospel, blues, and even oldies permeates the air, along with, of course, the aromas of some of the best ethnic foods you will ever eat. Ethnic dancers in colorful dress perform in one of the many performance venues, or even on the street.
If you’re lucky, you may see a wedding party leaving a church in authentic ethnic wedding attire, and even if there are no weddings in progress, the tours of the ethnic churches will leave you in awe when you see the interiors. Statistics about the visitors to the festival vary, but most years see between 30 and 40 states are represented, as well as several countries.
In just a few years, the Cambria City Ethnic Festival has become a major part of not only Johnstown’s festival calendar, but also a part of the cultural fabric that makes this city so interesting.
Tomorrow: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
Photo credits: Crowd View – Ethnic Festival Facebook page; Sign – ABC 23; Street Artist – Tribune -Democrat
Two days ago we began a series on the athletes who have been honored by induction into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. As was noted, 142 athletes have achieved that honor, with six more to be inducted this summer. The Hall of Fame honors athletes who have achieved national recognition and brought positive attention to Cambria County, and earlier we talked about those representing Artistic Roller Skating, Athletic Administration, Athletic Training, Auto Racing, Baseball Building, Builder, and Gymnastics. Today we will look at some more, with an asterisk accompanying those who have already been featured here individually.
The first is a friend of mine, Steve Molnar. Steve was inducted in 1984 for his accomplishments in distance running. I competed in many races against Steve, and even though we carpooled to a number of races together, I often joked with him that I never knew what he looked like when we were competing because I only saw his back. I’m not ashamed to say that I never beat Steve, or even came close. Most other runners couldn’t keep up with him either. If you notice in his photo, there is no other runner in the picture of Steve in one of his Johnstown Marathon wins. Steve won most of the races he ran in, and was good enough to qualify for the 1984 Olympic marathon trials. Steve, if you’re reading this, it was fun running with you. Or, actually, behind you.
Baseball is well represented, with 18 members. The Class of 1965 included James “Rip” Collins*, Nicholas “Nat” Hickey, Frank Keller, Wilbur “Roxy” Roach, and Tom Yewcic*. Charlie Metro was the only baseball player in the Class of 1969, as were Frank Oceak in 1971 and Ernie Oravetz* in 1975. No baseball players were named until the Class of 1981, when Al Gionfriddo, and Cy Young Winner Pete Vuckovich* were inducted. Gene Pentz would be the last baseball player honored in the 1980s, when he was selected in 1984. The Class of 1990 included Shawn Hillegas, followed by a 12-year drought, broken in 2002 by Bill Tremel. Frank Kostro kept the string going when he was inducted with the next group, the Class of 2004. In 2008 Mike Holtz joined the select group, followed by Tom Walter in 2012, and Randy Mazey and Tom McGough in 2014.
There have only been three umpires inducted, all of whom made it to the major leagues. Augie Donatelli* was inducted in 1967, Tony Venzon* made it in 1973, an Frank Dezelan was a 2012 inductee. Dezelan had the misfortune of having to leave baseball after only a few years umpiring in the majors, after he was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
While boxing isn’t a big sport anymore, either nationally or locally, it did have four members honored with spots in the Hall of Fame. John T. McGovern* was the first to be inducted, coming in with the Hall’s first class in 1965. Charles Burns was next, being inducted in 1969. In 1975 Chuck Taylor was honored, followed by Jock Phenicie in 1981. Taylor was the last of the four to actually fight, having retired nearly 70 years ago, so it’s hard to think of Johnstown as a city that loved its boxing, but in the early 1900s it actually competed with baseball as our national sport.
Basketball is second only to football in the number of inductees, with 26. The sport demands athleticism, and that attribute shows up in this category, as no less than four honorees in basketball were also inducted for their ability in a second sport. Clayton Dovey was inducted in 1969 for Basketball and Golf, Nicholas “Nat” Hickey and Frank Keller both made it for baseball and basketball in 1965, and Maureen Latterner-Brown was honored in 2004 for basketball and team handball. Other basketball inductees include Len Chappell*, George Glamack, and Maurice Stokes* in 1965; Leroy Leslie was the lone basketball inductee in 1967; Pitt star and St. Francis coach William “Skip” Hughes was elected in 1978; NBA stars Norm Van Lier in 1981; and Pat Cummings* and Kevin Porter in 1984. The first class of the 21st century took place in 2002, when Olympic champion Cal Fowler and Jodi Gault (who coached UPJ’s women’s basketball team to national relevance) were voted in. Lisa Britt joined Maureen Latterner-Brown as a 2004 honoree, and in 2006 Shot Doctor Dave Roman, Sr. and Paul Schmidt became members. Ron Nathanic, Mindy Young-Gagliardi, both of the Class of 2008, were followed in 2010 by Mike Iuzzolino and Becky Siembak and Mag Strittmater and Sue Panek in 2012. Samantha Pollino (Class of 2016), Maebeth (Schalles) Altman (Class of 2018), and Jess Zinobile (Class of 2020) complete the basketball category of the Hall.
Two broadcasters have been selected over the years, Ray Scott* in 1969 in Broadcasting/Media and Bill Wilson in 1990 for TV Broadcasting. Likewise, two representatives in similar, but still different, sports were selected with Evelyn Epperjessy for Trap Shooting (1965) and Fred Soisson for Skeet Shooting (1967). One person, Don Rullman, has been inducted in the little-known sport of Mono Skiing. Rullman was honored in 2002.
Wrestling has been represented by three worthy national champions: Carlton Haselrig* (1990, also for Football), Pat Pecora* (1998), and Jody Strittmatter (2006), while four have been honored for their Volleyball prowess: Leah Hollis (2014), Stephanie Istvan (2008), Melissa Myers (2020, while also being included for Track and Field), and Linda Renzi (2002).
Many of these, particular those in the lesser-known sports, or those in the early classes, may be unfamiliar to you, but they are no less worthy of the honor of being members of the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
Tomorrow: Cambria City Ethnic Fest
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
fter yesterday’s post about some of the inductees into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, I thought a change of pace might be in order, swapping sports and athletes to something with a bit of culture. The Johnstown Concert Ballet seemed to be a perfect topic for that. Then I realized that a story about the Concert Ballet wouldn’t be complete without including something about the organization’s founder, Carla Prucnal. I’m pretty far from what you would call a fan of ballet, but I do know how important cultural organizations are to the lifeblood of a community. I also have learned over the years that Carla Prucnal and the Concert Ballet are so intertwined that it is impossible to discuss one without discussing the other, too. So, today’s post is a hybrid, one that includes both an individual and an organization.
Carla Prucnal was born August 20, 1946 in Johnstown, the daughter of Joseph and Carolyn (Wisz) Prucnal. After graduating from high school she attended Carnegie Melon University, where she studied dance and obtained her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. While at CMU she gained valuable experience performing with the Pittsburgh Ballet Theater, and she gained certification as a teacher and member of the Cecchetti Council of America. She taught dance in Cambria City, and when the Johnstown Concert Ballet was organized in 1981, Carla was named Artistic Director.
Within a few years Carla had the dancers at JCB ready to perform the classic Nutcracker Suite, performed during the Christmas Season by countless ballet companies. The company had arrived, thanks to Carla’s expertise, and the Nutcracker has become a Johnstown tradition every year since. Although Carla would be the first to credit the many people involved in every performance, she must also be credited herself for her work in overseeing the design of each performance’s costumes, props, and sets, in addition to the countless little things that go unseen but add immensely to the success of every production.
In 1989 Carla was selected to choreograph and stage an elaborate production to commemorate the Centennial of the 1889 Johnstown Flood. She would go on to choreograph productions for the National Folk Fest in Johnstown, which was recently featured in a post here, as well as the Cambria City Ethnic Fest, the grand opening of ArtWorks, and other major events. Her work gained her the respect of the local cultural community, and she was asked to lend her expertise as a member of the Board of Directors of the Bottleworks Ethnic Arts Center. In 2005 the Bottleworks recognized her contributions to both the Board and to the local arts world by naming her to their Hall of Fame. At about the same time, the Concert Ballet gained much deserved recognition when then-Mayor Donato Zucco issued a proclamation officially declaring the company a cultural asset to the city.
In honor of Johnstown being named as the first Hockeyville in the United States by the Kraft Corporation in 2015, she stepped out of her role as the gentile director of a ballet company. Armed with a grant from the Pennsylvania Rural Arts Alliance, she wrote and choreographed an original work titled “Pucks and Pirouettes,” which was performed at the Cambria County War Memorial in what may have been the first time a ballet company performed in a hockey setting. Her ballet was also performed in a more traditional setting, on stage at the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center.
The Concert Ballet not only performs independently, it also has collaborated with other cultural entities in Johnstown, joining with Maestro James Blachy and the Johnstown Symphony Orchestra in 2017 to perform a well-received excerpt from Martha Graham’s “Appalachian Spring.” A year later the Ballet joined forces with the Allied Artists of Johnstown to choreograph dances depicting the meaning of featured paintings.
Sadly, on December 12, 2020, Carla Prucnal fell victim to complications arising from Covid-19. Prior to her death she was excited about the JCB’s new state-of-the-art training and performance facility, DanceWorks. In her honor, the largest, stage-sized studio will be named in her honor.
The Johnstown Concert Ballet will go on, but it will never be the same. In December 2021, alumni of JCB will be invited to participate in the JCB’s annual performance of the Nutcracker Suite in a tribute to the woman her dancers knew as Miss Carla.
Tomorrow: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, Part 2
Photo credits: Portrait – Tribune-Democrat; others – WJAC-TV
On several occasions since I first began these posts last August, I have written about sports figures who have a connection to Johnstown, either through birth or local residence at some time in their life. Coincidentally, most of those are members of the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. It would take months of daily postings to discuss everyone who has been inducted, but they all deserve recognition, so today I am dedicating the entire post to the CCSHOF. Because there are so many honorees, this will be done over a period of several days, interspersed by other posts to break the monotony for those who aren’t interested in sports..
The Hall of Fame honors athletes who have achieved national recognition and brought positive attention to Cambria County. The first Hall of Fame class was inducted in 1965, when 18 members were inducted. No other class since then has been that large. The list of inductees has since grown to 142, as of 2018. There were six additional inductees to be honored in 2020 but the ceremonies had to be canceled due to the pandemic. Those six will be inducted later this year, bringing the total to 148. These 148 include 126 men and 22 women. It probably will not come as a surprise to anyone, considering its popularity in this area, that the sport most often represented is football, with 49 members.
After the 1965 class was inducted, new classes were inducted every other year until 197, at which time a three-year hiatus was taken. Inductions resumed again in 1978, with new classes in 1981 and 1984, when another break was taken, this time for six years. Inductions after that were sporadic, taking place in 1990 and 1998, until the sequence of inducting a new class every other year resumed in 2004. That frequency has been observed since then, with the exception of 2014 when there were no inductions.
There are inductees in Artistic Roller Skating, Athletic Administration, Athletic Training, Auto Racing, Baseball, Baseball Building, Umpiring, Basketball, Boxing, Broadcasting/Media, Builder, Distance Running, Equipment Management, Football, Golf, Gymnastics, Handball, Hockey, Horse Racing Jockey, Hunting, Mono Skiing, Officiating, Skeet Shooting, Sports Medicine, Sports Promotion/Media, Swimming, TV Broadcasting, Tennis, Track and Field, Trap Shooting, Triathlon, Volleyball, Water Skiing, Wrestling, and Wrestling Official.
While it would not be practical to do a specific post about everyone of these, I will be mentioning each of them, and including a photo, over the next few days. Space limitations will make it impossible to list them in the order I show in the previous paragraph, but I assure you that each will be included. Those whose names appear with an asterisk are those who have already had their stories posted. There still will be a few more.
We’re going to start off with Kathy Frombach-Miller, the only representative of Artistic Roller Skating. She won numerous medals in regional, national, and international competitions. Athletic Administration is represented by Ed Sherlock and General George Simler. Sherlock served as athletic director at UPJ for 31 years and was responsible for getting UPJ to nati0nal prominence in both men’s wrestling and women’s basketball. He also had played and coached at UPJ. Simler was athletic director for the U.S. Air Force Academy from 1957 to 1960 and was instrumental in picking the site for the Falcon’s football stadium. He also had a hand in establishing the Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy, given to the winner of the annual football games between the three major service academies.
Athletic Training is represented by Chris Peduzzi (trainer for 19 seasons with the Philadelphia Eagles), Chris Stewart (trainer for the Johnstown Chiefs, Carolina Hurricanes, and the Pittsburgh Penguins and an integral part of four Stanley Cup championship teams), and Ed Stofko (former player for the Pittsburgh Steelers and long-time trainer for Johnstown High School and St. Francis College).
George and Fran Leitenberger, John Hubbard, and Chris Gleason make up the inductees in auto racing. Gleason had nearly 50 years in the sport, winning numerous races in both the United States and Europe. Hubbard raced at the national level for several years while working in the Johnstown Plant of Bethlehem Steel at the same time, something believed impossible by most racing fans. The Leitenberger brothers owned two cars that qualified for the Indianapolis 500, with one finishing fourth and the other coming in 15th the next year. They had three other cars entered in the 500 that failed to get past the qualifying rounds.
Those who have been honored in the Builder and Baseball Builder categories include Charles Kunkle for his contributions in golf, and Elmer M. Daly for his baseball accomplishments. Kunkle was an all around athlete at Westmont High School before becoming an accomplished amateur golfer at the national level, playing well enough to play in the 1956 Masters Tournament. After playing in the minor leagues for three years, Daly was president of the Middle Atlantic League for 25 years, and coached at the high school and collegiate levels. He also served as athletic director at St. Francis.
To wrap up today’s session, the Class of 2012 included its only Gymnastics honoree, Kristal Uzelac.
Tomorrow: Carla Pruchnal and the Johnstown Concert Ballet
Photo Credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
UNITED STATES AIR FORCE Attaché Secretary of the Air Force Office of Public Affairs Washington, D.C. 20330-1000 COLONEL DOUGLAS R. LENGENFELDER Colonel Douglas R. Lengenfelder assumed the duties of United States Defense and Air Attaché to Argentina in 2005. Colonel Lengenfelder entered the Air Force as a distinguished graduate from the United States Air Force Academy in 1979. He is a command pilot with more than 3,300 hours in the T-37, TG-7A motorglider and several models of the C-130. The colonel has served as an instructor and an evaluator in the Air Education and Training Command and Special Operations Command. He has commanded at the squadron and group levels, including Commandant of the Aerospace Basic Course at Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama. While serving on the Joint Staff, Central and Eastern Europe Division, Colonel Lengenfelder was the branch chief preparing Eastern European nations to enter the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Furthermore, he has been the Joint Commander for both the Pacific Theater Special Operations Air Component and the Joint Special Operations Task Force in the Philippines, assisting the armed forces of the Philippines in its fight against terrorism. His previous assignment was at Bolling Air Force Base, District of Columbia, where he served as Commander, 11th Operations Group, and Director of Operations. EDUCATION: 1979 Distinguished graduate, Bachelor of Science degree in chemistry, United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, Colorado 1984 Distinguished graduate, Squadron Officer School, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama 1986 Master of Arts degree in public administration, summa cum laude, Midwestern State University, Texas 1988 Distinguished graduate, Master of Science degree in computer science, Naval Postgraduate School, Monterey, California 1992 Distinguished graduate, Air Command and Staff College, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama 1996 Master of Science degree in national security strategy, National War College, Fort Lesley J. McNair, Washington, District of Columbia ASSIGNMENTS: 1. June 1979, chemist, Frank J. Sieler Research Laboratory, United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, Colorado 2. September 1979 – September 1980, student, undergraduate pilot training, Reese Air Force Base, Texas 3. September 1980 – March 1981, student, T-37 instructor pilot training, Randolph Air Force Base, Texas 4. March 1981 – May 1982, T-37 instructor pilot, Reese Air Force Base, Texas 5. May 1982 – July 1986, T-37 instructor pilot, check pilot and flight commander, Euro-NATO Joint Jet Pilot Training, Sheppard Air Force Base, Texas 6. August 1986 – June 1988, student, Naval Postgraduate School, Monterey, California7. June 1988 – May 1989, computer science instructor and TG-7A motorglider instructor, United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, Colorado 8. May 1989 – May 1991, aide-de-camp, United States Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, Colorado 9. June 1991 – June 1992, student, Air Command and Staff College, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama 10. June 1992 – August 1994, MC-130E pilot, flight commander and assistant director of operations, 8th Special Operations Squadron, Hurlburt Field, Florida 11. August 1994 – July 1995, Director of Operations, 550th Special Operations Squadron, Kirtland Air Force Base, New Mexico 12. August 1995 – June 1996, student, National War College, Fort Lesley J. McNair, Washington, District of Columbia 13. June 1996 – March 1998, Commander, 550th Special Operations Squadron, Kirtland Air Force Base, New Mexico 14. March 1998 – April 2000, Commandant, Aerospace Basic Course, Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama 15. April 2000 – July 2002, Chief, Engagement and Integration Branch, Central and Eastern Europe Division, the Joint Staff, Washington, District of Columbia 16. July 2002 – June 2003, Commander, Special Operations Air Component, United States Pacific Command, Hickam Air Force Base, Hawaii (November 2002 – March 2003, Commander, Joint Special Operations Task Force – Philippines, Zamboanga, Philippines) 17. June 2003 – May 2005, Commander, 11th Operations Group, Bolling Air Force Base, Washington, District of Columbia 18. May 2005 – July 2005, student, Joint Military Attaché School, Washington, District of Columbia 19. December 2005 – present, United States Defense and Air Attaché to Argentina FLIGHT INFORMATION: Rating: Command pilot Flight hours: More than 3,300 Aircraft flown: T-37, TG-7A, C-130E, MC-130E and MC-130E/H/P MAJOR AWARDS AND DECORATIONS: Defense Superior Service Medal Legion of Merit Defense Meritorious Service Medal with oak leaf cluster Meritorious Service Medal with three oak leaf clusters Air Force Commendation Medal Air Force Achievement Medal Combat Readiness Medal National Defense Service Medal with bronze star Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal Global War on Terrorism Service Medal Humanitarian Service Medal with bronze star Bulgarian National Medal to the Colors NATO Medal (Former Republic of Yugoslavia) EFFECTIVE DATES OF PROMOTION: Second Lieutenant May 30, 1979 First Lieutenant May 30, 1981 Captain May 30, 1983 Major June 1, 1990 Lieutenant Colonel February 1, 1995 Colonel February 1, 2001 (Current as of October 2005)
Former Cambria County commissioner Douglas Lengenfelder was selected by President Trump to be on the U.S. Air Force Academy Board of Visitors.
The board oversees matters of morale, discipline, curriculum, instruction, physical equipment, fiscal affairs, academic methods and other issues relating to the academy. The announcement was posted on www.whitehouse.gov.
A retired colonel in the U.S. Air Force and an academy graduate, Lengenfelder will serve a four-year term.
“I am honored to have been selected by President Trump to represent my alma mater and to work with the administration in the development of our nation’s military leadership,” Lengenfelder said. “The United States Air Force Academy will always hold a special meaning for me and I am grateful for the opportunities it has offered me throughout my life.”
Lengenfelder is the executive director for the Challenger Learning Center in Indiana, Pennsylvania.
He held a four-year term as Cambria County commissioner from 2012 to 2015 and served as Pennsylvania Veterans Coalition director for the Republican Party.
Lengenfelder retired from the Air Force in 2009 following a 30-year career. He entered the Air Force as a chemist and shortly afterward went to pilot training, accumulating more than 3,500 hours of flight time flying as both a special operations and an instructor pilot.
He also served as a special military adviser for the U.S. Ambassador to NATO. Lengenfelder completed his military career as the U.S. Defense Attache in Argentina.
On July 26, 1948 President Harry S. Truman issued Executive Order 9981, which abolished segregation in the armed forces. Full integration was not established until 1950 in the Navy and Air Force, 1953 in the Army, and 1960 in the Marine Corps. Despite the challenges of being in a segregated military, more than 1,000,000 African-Americans served in World War II. Of these, there were only 5 who were officers, and most of their participation in the war was in a noncombat unit. Two notable exceptions were the Tuskegee Airmen and the Harlem Hellcats, although both were all-black units. Black soldiers often had to give up their seats on trains to white Nazi prisoners of war.
One of those African-Americans who served during that time was Johnstown’s Reverend Andrew William Tilly. Many African-Americans served from this area, but Rev. Tilly’s name was suggested as being a worthy representative of all of them for this post. The suggestion came from Jeffrey Wilson of the Pleasant Hill Baptist Church and Josh Hauser, Community Operations Director for the Veteran Community Initiatives, Inc. Thanks to both for suggesting Rev. Tilly’s name. I am indebted to both of you.
Rev. Tilly was born July 30, 1926 in Plaquimine, Louisiana to Rev. Andrew Thomas and Ada (Gibson) Tilly. Our Rev. Tilly, or the younger Rev. Tilly, if you prefer, grew up with nine siblings. He attended schools in Plaquimine, and following graduation from high school attended Xavier University in New Orleans, majoring in Pre-Med. Completing his courses there, he enrolled at the University of New Mexico, where he did graduate studies in Science. By then, however, World War II was raging, and he left UNM to go into the army. The army sent him to the Army School of Medical Technology at Ft. Sam Houston, Texas, following which he attended Benedict College, where he was ordained a Baptist Minister.
Following his ordination he served as his father’s assistant pastor. He also worked at Michael Reese Hospital in Chicago, where he met his future wife, Margaret Ruffin. The two would be married for 45 years before Margaret passed away. The Tillys relocated to Philadelphia, where Rev. Tilly served as Associate Minister of the Vine Memorial Baptist Church. He also served as Supervisor of the Medical Arts Laboratory until October, 1965, when he moved to Johnstown to become Pastor of the Pleasant Hill Baptist Church. He also became an author, having two books published.
While in the army he received a commendation from the Chief, Laboratory Service at the U.S. Army Hospital in Ft. Jackson, South Carolina for his work and superior rating. His record at Ft. Jackson was recognized still further a month later when Major General J. I. Martin, Commanding General at Ft. Sam Houston in Texas sent a letter of recommendation to the Registrar at the University of Chicago School of Medicine. A second letter, this one from Tilly’s supervisor, also recommended Tilly for admission, singling out his able assistance in the performance of autopsies.
When Tilly left the Army in 1954, he was given a letter thanking him for his outstanding performance and unselfish service, while citing his achievements. That letter was signed by Major General John A. Dabney.
Although Rev. Tilly was not a native of Johnstown, he had a great love for the city. His second book, Feed My Lambs, was dedicated as follows: Dedicated to the citizens of the City of Johnstown and of the County of Cambria; All elected and public officers, law and court officers, union officers, and clergy; and Judge George W. Griffith (serving his last term as judge before his retirement); Stephen D. Oblackovich, Clerk of Courts and the 119 other Jurors of December Term, 1971, and Saul Griffith.
Rev. Tilly served his country in a time of world danger, enduring the indignities inflicted because of his race. If he complained, there is no record of it. In civilian life he served his church, started several innovative award-winning programs at his church, and held office in more local organizations than there is space here to list them. He became a faculty member at UPJ, where he headed a program called Project J, which enabled students to attend UPJ. In his name, a scholarship has been established at the university.
The Reverend Andrew William Tilly passed away on July 13, 2020 and is buried in the Benshoff Hill Cemetery in Johnstown.
Tomorrow: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, Part 1
Photo Credits: Veteran Community Initiatives, Inc.
If you were to encounter someone whose nickname was “Terrible Terry,” you probably would think twice before you’d do anything to antagonize him. In the case of the “Terrible Terry” who is the subject of today’s post, that would prove to be very prudent.
This “Terrible Terry” was born in Johnstown on March 9, 1880. His real name was John Terrence McGovern, and he was a professional boxer. He fought 80 times, with 65 wins and only 6 losses, with 8 draws and one declared no contest. Of those 65 wins, 44 were by knockouts. That’s why you wouldn’t want to antagonize this “Terrible Terry.” By the way, he was also the World Bantamweight Champion and the World Featherweight Champion. He also defeated Frank Erne, who was the World Lightweight Champion at the time, but he was not declared World Lightweight Champion because the bout was not officially sanctioned.
When McGovern was still a toddler the family moved to South Brooklyn. After his father died when McGovern was barely a teenager, McGovern peddled vegetables to help support his widowed mother. At the age of 16 he took up boxing at the Greenwood Athletic Club in Brooklyn, boxing in preliminary bouts. Several of his brothers also saw boxing as a means of earning a living.
McGovern was regarded as a puncher, rather than a finesse boxer, and his defensive style was limited. He was willing to take a punch if he could also deliver one, reasoning that he would punch harder than his opponent. The 44 knockouts supports his confidence in his ability to punch hard. On September 12, 1899, a crowd of 10,000 at the Westchester Athletic Club in New York saw McGovern facing British boxer Pedlar Palmer. McGovern was only 19 years old but had already been boxing professionally for two years. At stake was the World Bantamweight Championship. With one body blow after another, McGovern knocked Palmer out in the first round, becoming the world champion. Two months later he repeated the first round knockout against Patsy Haley in Chicago.
On July 16, 1900, McGovern fought World Lightweight Champion Frank Erne in Madison Square Garden. In the first round Erne knocked McGovern down. McGovern rose to his feet and resumed the fight. In the third round, he became even more aggressive, knocking Erne down twice. A powerful blow to Erne’s face finished the fight, as Erne’s seconds threw in the sponge, symbolic of surrendering. The immediate reaction was to declare McGovern the new World Lightweight Champion by virtue of a technical knockout, but the bout was not officially sanctioned, and McGovern was never officially recognized as the champion. After the fight was over, Erne was examined by doctors, who determined that McGovern’s punch had inflicted substantial injuries to Erne’s nose and mouth.
On January 9, 1900, McGovern moved up in weight class in a sanctioned bout against World Featherweight Champion George Dixon. McGovern’s reputation for being an aggressive puncher showed up in the early betting when he was made the favorite, despite being the challenger. The fight was later determined to be one of the most heavily bet boxing matches ever staged. Using straight, short punches, Terrible Terry wore the champion down. In the sixth round, Dixon’s manager could no longer stand to watch his fighter continue to take such a beating, and he threw in the sponge. Officials ruled McGovern the winner, and new World Featherweight Champion, by a knockout. Immediately controversy arose, not about McGovern being declared the winner, but for his being declared winner by a knockout. Advocates for Dixon insisted that the fight had been ended before the referee finished his ten-count that would have made the knockout official. The controversy was never settled to anyone’s satisfaction.
McGovern continued to defeat all challengers, knocking each one of them out, until November 28, 1901, when he was stopped in the second round by Young Corbett II. The results were the same in a rematch 16 months later. McGovern continued to box, while also becoming a vaudeville entertainer. He had an estimated lifetime earnings of $203,000, which included his vaudeville earnings. That would equate to about $6,000,000 today.
After retiring from boxing, McGovern followed the unfortunate pattern of many boxers of his day, losing large sums of money betting on the horses. He even bought a racehorse, hiring one of his brothers to be the jockey. The results were what most people would expect.
Gradually, the effect of being punched so many times in the head took its toll. His behavior became more irrational, his judgement more questionable. He would spend much of his later life in mental institutions. On February 22, 1918, he died at the age of 37 of pneumonia and Bright’s Disease, a kidney ailment, in the charity ward of the King’s County Hospital in Brooklyn. He was buried in Brooklyn’s Holy Cross Cemetery.
McGovern was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 1965, and into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1990.
Tomorrow: Rev. Andrew Tilly
Photo credits: Wikipedia
Considering the ethnic diversity we have here in Johnstown, it would seem inevitable that some kind of festival built around polka music would take hold at some point. In 1997, that’s exactly what happened. While I am not particularly a fan of the genre, I am aware that many people in our area grew up listening to polkas, and the local event is a major component in preserving a type of music that traces its origins to the early 1800s in Bohemia, now the Czech Republic.
From what I’ve been able to gather, the word polka came from the Czech word ‘pulka,’ meaning ‘half’. It was applied to the dance phrase for “half-step,” referring to the dance method of lightly stepping from one foot to the other. The polka showed up in Prague ballrooms, then spread to Paris. It became so popular in Paris that critics referred to the phenomenon as ‘polkamania.’
From Paris it swept across Europe, and from Europe it reached the United States by the late 1840s. It was brought to Johnstown by immigrants who moved to the area to take advantage of employment in the coal mines that dotted the area. By the mid-20th century, Polish Americans had adopted the polka as their ‘national’ dance.
Fast forward to 1997, and the first Johnstown PolkaFest. For the first year or two it was mostly a local event. Then word got out. Billed as a family-friendly event, polka fans now come from across Pennsylvania, as well as Ohio, Michigan, and New York. And they don’t just come to listen, they come to dance. So many come, in fact, that Fifth Avenue and Power Street are closed to traffic, to accommodate the crowds.
Of course, there are polka festivals in other parts of the United States, too, so why is the Johnstown PolkaFest so highly rated? Well, for starters, it features award-winning polka groups. Grammy winner types. You won’t see that at many venues. Not without paying a hefty price, anyway. Not so at the local festival, co-hosted every year by the Convention and Visitors Bureau and St. Mary’s Byzantine Catholic Church in the Cambria City neighborhood. It’s free here.
Several of the groups that appear say the local PolkaFest is their favorite event, and that Johnstown is their favorite city to perform in. The reception these bands get when they are here probably has a lot to do with that.
While many nationally and internationally known acts are featured (organizers say PolkaFest features the best lineup of Polish and Slovenian bands in the world), local polka bands also are part of the festival. The fact that both Polish and Slovenian bands are featured is, in itself, very unusual. As a non-polka fan, I was never aware that there was a difference until that difference was explained to me. Apparently, that difference is what makes the local festival so unique. Most polka festivals usually feature one style or the other.
In addition to the bands, there are ethnic foods, craft vendors, and even a polka church service. One of the sponsors is St. Mary’s, after all, so why not? Held the weekend following Memorial Day, PolkaFest serves as the unofficial start of festival season, and few cities love their festivals more than Johnstown.
The festival is concentrated around the St. Mary’s church, utilizing the church’s pavilion and social hall, as well as a gigantic tent. Parking and admission are both free, and not many festivals of this caliber can say that. Maybe that’s because the Johnstown PolkaFest isn’t just a festival. It’s heritage.
Tomorrow: Boxer John T. McGovern
Photo credits: St. Mary’s Byzantine Catholic Church and the Tribune-Democrat
In or around the year 1800 Joseph Johns laid out his master plan for Conemaugh Old Town, destined to become better known as Johnstown. At the point where the Little Conemaugh and the Stonycreek Rivers met he pondered what its use should be, then decided that it should remain a place for “ … common and public amusements for the use of the said town and its future inhabitants forever.” In plain language, no development. No housing. No industry. In short, nothing but an area where those who lived here could spend leisurely time just enjoying themselves. Did he envision a stadium? I truly doubt it. But that met the stipulation, and in 1926 that’s exactly what was built there. And what else would you name a stadium built where two rivers came together at a point to form a third larger river? No, not Three Rivers, although a city to the west of us selected that name years later. Here in Johnstown the stadium was named the Point Stadium, and it has remained the Point Stadium, or simply the Point, ever since.
Johnstown had been the home of minor league baseball dating back to 1883, when they were simply called the Johnstown Baseball Club. Over the years they had also been called the Pirates (1892), the Terrors (1893), the Buckskins (1895), and the Mormans (1898), before becoming the Johnnies in 1904. The new stadium became the home of the Johnnies, who played in the old Middle Atlantic League, and one year after the stadium was built, the Johnnies played an exhibition game against the New York Yankees. Yep. Those New York Yankees. The ones with Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and the rest of what was referred to as Murderer’s Row, for their hitting prowess. The Johnnies weren’t slouches themselves, fresh off back-to-back league championships in 1925 and 1926, and they did themselves proud that day. A boxing match was presented before the game, but when the game began, the Johnnies jumped to an early lead and hung on, defeating the Yankees 7-5. The highlight of the day for the 10,000 fans in attendance, however, came when Babe Ruth hit a batting practice home run over the right field wall.
While baseball dominated the history of the stadium, the Point did serve other purposes. In 1948, more than 11,000 filed into the stadium to hear a campaign speech from President Harry S. Truman. The stadium became a movie set in 1983 when All the Right Moves, a football movie starring Tom Cruise, Craig T. Nelson, and Lea Thompson filmed game action there. Boxing matches, rock concerts, fireworks displays, WW II bond drives, and high school and college sports all took place in the old stadium. Professional football also made its appearance (Johnstown Clippers in the Western Pennsylvania Professional Football League from 1947 through 1949), and during the 1987 NFL players strike, the Pittsburgh Steelers used the stadium for practices and workouts.
On June 16, 1989 Bon Jovi presented a concert at the stadium in front of nearly 20,000 fans. Heavy rains had preceded his concert, which opened with a performance from Skid Row as the opening act. Fans crowded around the outfield stage, and when the concert concluded the outfield grass was, for all intent, ground into mud. Although the field was repaired, the natural grass was replaced with an all-turf surface in 2007, after the stadium was rebuilt in 2005-2006.
When originally built, the Point had a seating capacity of 17,000, bolstered by an upper deck on top of the grandstand. The upper deck was eventually removed, reducing seating to 10,000, and in 2005 the old stadium was razed and replaced by a 7,500 seat venue. The new stadium opened on August 8, 2006 with a AAABA game between Johnstown and Chicago. Having been tucked into a rectangular city block, not much could be done to extend the short left field foul line, so to prevent cheap home runs, a huge screen was installed. Patterned after the one in Boston’s famed Fenway Park called the Green Monster, the Point’s screen has become known as the Screen Monster.
When UPJ played in the West Virginia Intercollegiate Athletic Conference, the conference’s baseball championship tournaments were played at the Point in 2008, 2009, 2010, and 2012. The Pennsylvania State Athletic Conference tournament championships were also played there in 2010 and 2011. The stadium is the main field for the annual AAABA Tournament, which has been played in Johnstown every year since 1945 with only three exceptions: 1946 when it was played in Washington, 1977 when Altoona hosted the tournament after Johnstown had been hit with its third deadly flood, and 2020 when all activities were canceled due to the coronavirus. It also hosts the city’s summer baseball program, with the local representatives to the AAABA tournament selected in the season-ending playoff.
Two significant events took place involving the Point Stadium in 2018. The influential Sports Planning Guide, which produces information on sports venues across the United States for use by event planners and venue selectors, named the Point Stadium one of their Nine Great Baseball Parks and Complexes in the East. At about the same time, the city entered into an agreement with the Sargent’s Group for the naming rights. As result, the stadium’s official name now is Sargent’s Stadium at the Point.
Beginning in 2021, the stadium will host the city’s newest baseball representative, the Johnstown Mill Rats entry in the Prospect Collegiate Baseball League, an NCAA certified league for top collegiate baseball players. Although it has only been in existence since 2011, the league already has sent nearly 200 players to the major leagues.
Tomorrow: Polka Fest
Black and White photo credit – AAABA
Actress Carroll Baker was born in Johnstown on May 28, 1931 to parents William W. and Elizabeth G. (Duffy) Baker. The family was poor, a situation that deteriorated further when William and Elizabeth separated when Carroll was 8 years old. After the separation, Elizabeth moved to Turtle Creek with Carroll and her younger sister Virginia.
Carroll graduated from Greensburg Salem High School, where she got her first acting experience performing in high school musicals. Following graduation, she and her family moved to St. Petersburg, Florida, where she attended St. Petersburg College, which was known as St. Petersburg Junior College at that time. After one year of college, she took a job on the vaudeville circuit, working as a magician’s assistant and a dancer. In 1949, she won the Miss Florida Fruits and Vegetables competition.
In 1951 she moved to New York, renting an apartment with a dirt floor in Queens. In New York she got a job as a nightclub dancer and also had stints as a chorus girl in various traveling vaudeville shows. The next year she enrolled in the Actors Studio, studying acting under Lee Strasberg in a class that included such future stars as Mike Nichols, James Dean, Rod Steiger, Shelley Winters, and Marilyn Monroe. To make ends meet, she appeared in television commercials for Winston cigarettes and Coca-Cola. She got her first real acting job when she was featured in an episode of Monodrama Theater on the DuMont network in 1952.
It was the following year that she made her film debut, getting a small walk-on part in the musical Easy to Love. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her roles in two Broadway productions: Escapade in the fall of 1953 and All Summer Long, opposite Ed Begley, in 1954. She came close to being cast in two lead roles in 1955 that could have made her a household name sooner. She auditioned for the lead in Picnic but lost out to Kim Novak. Her friend, James Dean, recommended her for the female lead in Rebel Without a Cause, a role she eventually turned down.
For the next year she turned down all leading roles when they were offered. When asked why, she noted that she was very insecure and preferred supporting roles until she gained enough confidence. She got that supporting role when she was cast as Luz Benedict II in the hit film, Giant, opposite Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean in his final role. It was her first major film role. While filming Giant, she was cast as the title character in Elia Kazan’s Baby Doll, a role that had been originally meant for Marilyn Monroe. The role brought her immediate fame. She gained a level of notoriety when she was shown scantily dressed in a 135 foot tall billboard on Times Square to promote the movie. The advertising campaign caused a backlash from religious groups, and Cardinal Francis Spellman publicly denounced the film and advised his parish against seeing it. The National Legion of Decency also condemned it.
When the film opened it exceeded financial predictions, boosted in part by an appearance from Marilyn Monroe in support of Baker. At the film’s premiere, Monroe worked as an usherette to bolster ticket sales, which all went to the Actor’s Studio. Despite the negative publicity, Baker received excellent reviews from such prestigious sources as the New York Times and Variety. She was now considered an A-list celebrity. She won a Golden Globe Award for Most Promising Newcomer and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress, as well as a second Golden Globe, also for Best Actress. Look Magazine presented her with a Film Achievement Award, and she was named Woman of the Year by Harvard’s Hasty Pudding Club. She also appeared on the cover of Life Magazine that summer.
Following the success of Baby Doll, she was offered parts in several movies, but when she turned down a role in Too Much, Too Soon, Warner Bothers suspended her, preventing her from accepting other roles. MGM then offered her the lead role in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and 20th Century Fox wanted her for The Three Faces of Eve. Her Warner Brother contract prevented her from accepting either, and both became hits, leading to tension between her and Warner Brothers. She did not act again until the studio lifted her suspension later in 1958. She eventually bought out her contract with the company, putting her deeply into debt.
Now independent, she took roles in several movies, one of which, Bridge to the Sun, was so well received by the critics that it became America’s entry at the Venice International Film Festival. More roles followed, including the blockbuster How the West Was Won, with Gregory Peck, Debbie Reynolds, and Karl Malden. Now a full-fledged celebrity, she learned how quickly rumors become accepted as fact, when she was said to be having an affair with co-star Robert Mitchum. An even more interesting story came later, when it was rumored that a Maasai chief in Kenya offered 150 cows, 200 goats, sheep, and $750 for her hand in marriage.
Much in demand now as a leading actress, she had her choice of roles and was able to make several movies a year. She also appeared in Playboy Magazine, graced the cover of the Saturday Evening Post, became the official spokesperson for Foster Grant sunglasses, and received $1,000,000 compensation in a lawsuit she filed against producer Joe Levine. She also returned to acting in theater productions, and began acting in European movies when she was blacklisted for having sued Levine. She returned to making American films in 1976.
In 1983 she published her autobiography, titled Baby Doll: An Autobiography. In 2011 she was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Hoboken Film Festival, followed by an identical award in 2012 from the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival. Over her career she starred in scores of movies that grossed hundreds of millions of dollars. She has also appeared in some of television’s top shows, received countless awards and honors, got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and enjoyed international fame. Along the way, the girl who grew up in poverty became a millionaire.
Unless you’re the outdoorsy type, you may not be aware of the fact that those of us fortunate enough to live in Johnstown are sitting in the midst of some of the best outdoor recreation opportunities in America. Many people here fish and hunt, others just like to hike or camp, while still others are content to just bike or drive through some of the prettiest scenery you could ever want, especially when the leaves change color in the fall. Whatever your preference, Johnstown is rapidly transforming its image from an industrial city to an outdoor hub.
You don’t have to take my word for it. Outsiders are taking notice, too, and they are letting the rest of the world know. VisitPa recommends our area as an ‘outdoor adventure land’, while Blue Ridge Outdoors Magazine simply says Johnstown is one of America’s top mountain towns. Adventure Outdoors Magazine apparently feels the same way, naming Johnstown a top outdoor recreation area, and Keystone Edge says Johnstown is one of five “must see” towns in Pennsylvania.
Other publications choose to zero in on some specific local attribute, rather than generalizing the entire area. The Stonycreek River seems to be a favorite, and why not? Apparently outdoor enthusiasts across the state agree, because it was named the 2012 River of the Year by the Pennsylvania Department of Conservation and Natural Resources following a statewide online public vote. Best Outdoor Adventure calls the Stonycreek one of the most beautiful kayaking locations, while Thrilist likes the river for tubing, saying it is one of the 12 best places for tubing in America. The river is the site every year for the Stony-Kiski-Conemaugh River Sojourn, a four-day canoe/kayak river journey celebrating the beauty of the local rivers from Johnstown to Freeport. And, of course, no discussion of the Stonycreek would be complete without talking about Greenhouse Park, home of the only man-made whitewater park in all of Pennsylvania and home of the annual Stonycreek Rendezvous, bringing in canoers, rafters, and kayakers from 20 states and Canada.
The river has something for everyone. If tame flatwater is what you are looking for, a local outfitter named Coal Tubin’ provides tube rentals, although rafts are also available for the more adventurous. The stretch of the river known as the Stonycreek Canyon offers everything from Class I to Class V Whitewater, with the latter recommended only for experts. The Quemahoning Dam, known locally as the Que, offers the most gentle boating, with serene flatwater and no internal combustion engines to create a wake.
You’d rather hike or backpack, you say? Well, welcome to a hiker’s (and biker’s) mecca. There are more than 300 miles of hiking trails in and around Johnstown, with more being developed every year. Three of those trails are official National Recreation Trails: the Ghost Town Trail (named the 7th best trail in the United States), the Path of the Flood Trail, and the James Mayer Riverswalk. The Riverswalk Trail was featured in the May 2018 edition of Onlyinyourstate.com, which calls it a magical river walk that will transport you to another world. Excellent hiking can be found in Stackhouse Park, Roxbury Park, Highland Park, Lorain Park, the Que, or even on the UPJ campus. The September 11 Memorial Trail, still being developed, will pass right through the city, and the Kiski-Conemaugh Water Trail is just west of town, as is the Honan Avenue Trail. State parks in the area abound in excellent hiking opportunities, and the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail, running 70 miles from Johnstown to Ohiopyle, has been named one of the 20 best running trails in America by Runner’s World Magazine and one of the 49 best hiking trails by msn.com.
Most of the hiking trails are also excellent if you prefer to do it by bicycle, but if you are more adventurous, why not hit the BMX track at Highland Park? For the extremely adventurous biker, the Inclined Plane mountain biking trail will be more to your liking, but this is a trail that is not for the novice, or for the faint hearted. ATV enthusiasts will want to try the 140 miles of riding trails at the Rock Run Recreation Area near Patton, considered one of the top ATV sites in the east.
If winter sports are more to your liking, there are four excellent ski resorts in the Johnstown area: Seven Springs (one of the top resorts in the east), Hidden Valley (with 26 slopes and trails, two Terrain Parks and nine lifts), Blue Knob (billed as being the highest skiable mountain in Pennsylvania), and Laurel Mountain (with the highest vertical drop in the Laurel Ridge).
As you can see, there is something for everyone here, and I don’t work for the Chamber of Commerce, even though this may sound like I do. It’s no wonder the Pennsylvania Department of Community and Economic Development named Johnstown as one of three Pennsylvania cities with inspiring stories of transformation, and chose the view of downtown from the top of the Inclined Plane as their cover photo in a recent publication. There are so many outdoor things to do in the Johnstown area that I’m sure I’ve unintentionally missed some. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.
Tomorrow: Carroll Baker
Photo credits: Kayak photo – Benscreek Canoe Club; Rafting photo – Coal Tubin’; Ski photo – Seven Springs
t takes an outstanding athlete to become a professional football player. And while it isn’t rare, it isn’t all that common either when two from the same family make it. In fact, right now the Steelers have just such a combination, T. J. and Derek Watt. A third Watt brother, J. J., plays for Houston. A Johnstown family has contributed to the list of brother combinations that have made it to the NFL. Artrell Hawkins, Jr. played from 1998 to 2006, while his brother, Andrew, played from 20011 to 2017, with an additional two years in the Canadian Football League. Both are graduates of Bishop McCort High School.
Artrell, Jr. was born November 24, 1976, the son of Artrell, Sr, and Aletha (Haselrig-Jones) Hawkins. The Hawkins boys came by their talent naturally, with Artrell, Sr. having played at the University of Pittsburgh and being signed as a rookie free agent by the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1980. Artrell, Jr. played basketball and baseball at Bishop McCort, but it was football where he stood out. In his senior year he rushed for 26 touchdowns, setting a school record, and 1,487 yards. That yardage included 265 yards in one game. He was named conference offensive player of the year.
He played football at the University of Cincinnati as a defensive back and kick returner, then became a second round draft pick of the Cincinnati Bengals in the 1998 NFL draft. He played for the Bengals for six years, setting a team record with a 102 yard return of an intercepted pass against Houston in 2002. That return was the longest in the league that year. His final year with the Bengals was 2003. In 2004 he found himself wearing the uniform of the Carolina Panthers.
Artrell played for the New England Patriots in 2005 and 2006 before being released in the summer of 2007. He sat out the entire 2007 season before signing a contract with the New York Jets in February 2008. However, before playing a down for the Jet, he retired in August 2008. Since retiring he has worked in sports talk radio in Cincinnati, as well as being a sideline reporter for the University of Cincinnati.
In his NFL career he played in 122 games, forcing 14 fumbles, recovering 7, and intercepting 11 passes over 9 seasons.
Younger brother, Andrew, was born March 10, 1986 and also attended Bishop McCort, playing football and running track. As a running back, he had 562 yards rushing and scored 10 touchdowns his senior year. He also played defensive back, and was good enough in both positions that he was named second team All-State as a defensive back and All-Conference as a running back.
Despite standing only 5-7” tall, Andrew played well enough to earn a scholarship to play football at the University of Toledo. There, he played wide receiver and cornerback, making him the first Toledo player in 48 years to play on both sides of the ball. In his four years playing for the Rockets, he had 67 receptions for 634 yards, an average of 9.5 yards for catch. He also rushed 25 times, gaining 109 yards and averaging 4.4 yards per carry. All told, including rushing and receiving, he accounted for 743 yards for the Rockets, for an average of 8.1 yards each time he touched the ball. He also scored four touchdowns receiving and 1 rushing. In his senior year he returned 21 kickoffs for 358 yards, an average of 17 yards per return.
Hoping to emulate his father and brother by playing in the NFL, he ran a 40-yard dash in 4.34 seconds at Toledo’s pro day, putting him on the radar of several NFL Scouts. He was disappointed when he wasn’t drafted, but he did get an invitation to the Cleveland Browns camp as an undrafted free agent. When he was cut from the team before the season started, he signed with the Montreal Alouettes of the Canadian Football League.
Before his first season with the Alouettes, however, he competed on Michael Irvin’s football reality show called ‘4th and Long” in hopes of winning a spot on the Dallas Cowboys roster. He finished as runnerup, so he went to the Alouettes and was part of back-to-back Grey Cup championship teams in his two years in the CFL. He scored five touchdowns in those two years.
On January 12, 2011 he signed a contract with the St. Louis Rams but was placed on waivers at fall camp. The Cincinnati Bengals claimed him off waivers but he was cut in the final-day cuts despite having scored a preseason touchdown. The Bengals then signed him the very next day to their taxi squad and moved him up when another player was placed on injured reserve. In his first season he recorded 23 receptions for 263 yards, as well as 25 yards rushing in five attempts. His diminutive size and on-field performance made him a fan favorite, Obviously remembering his brother, Artrell from a few years earlier, the fans began calling him Little Hawk. He then played for the Cleveland Browns from 2014 to 2015, leading the team in his first season with 63 catches for 824 yards and two touchdowns. At the end of the 2015 season the Browns placed him on injured reserve, then released him. He then signed with the New England Patriots but decided to retire before the season started.
His pro record shows him with 41 receptions for 457 yards and 5 touchdowns with the Montreal Alouettes, along with an additional 57 yards in only 5 attempts rushing. In his six seasons in the NFL he recorded 209 receptions for 2, 419 yards and 9 touchdowns plus 73 yards rushing on 18 attempts.
After his retirement Andrew went on to earn his Master’s degree in sports management from Columbia University with a 4.0 grade point average. The Hawkins brothers are cousins of Canadian Football League standout Geroy Simon and 6-time NCAA wrestling champion and NFL Pro-Bowl Steeler guard Carlton Haselrig, both of whom have been featured here previously. Artrell and Andrew both have been inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s outdoors opportunities
Photo credits: Andrew in uniform and Artrell in suit – both from Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
In 1934 the National Council for the Traditional Arts (NCTA) began an itinerant folk festival in St. Louis that is now considered the oldest multi-cultural traditional arts celebration in the country. It was also the first national event to put the arts of various nations, races, and languages into the same event. Some of those who participated in that first event have become legends, including W. C. Handy, who performed his first performance on a desegrated stage. The St. Louis festival is recognized as the first event having a national stature to present the blues, zydeco, polkas, Tex-Mex, a Sacred Harp ensemble, and a Peking opera at the same event.
The festival rotated to various cities on an annual basis for its first three years, until it settled in Washington, DC from 1938 to 1942. It moved to Philadelphia for the 1943 and 1944 events, then to Cleveland for 1946 before returning to St. Louis from 1947 through 1955. After a one-year hiatus, it returned as an annual event, moving each year to a different city around the country from 1957 to 1971, with the exception of a two year period in 1960 and 1961 in Washington. It appeared to have found a permanent home at the famed Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts in Vienna, Virginia, which hosted the festival from 1971 through 1982. Then, from 1983 to 1985 it moved to the Cuyahoga Valley National Recreation Area in Ohio, then to New York City for the 1986 festival, then to Lowell, Massachusetts for three years, from 1987 to 1989.
While the Lowell festival was going on, Johnstown Area Heritage Association, along with officials from the city and commonwealth, began raising funds and preparing a proposal to bring the festival to Johnstown. With the city’s ethnic diversity and rich cultural history, NCTA determined that there was no place better suited for such an event, and Johnstown was awarded the festival for the next three-year period, from 1990 through 1992. The selection committee was also impressed with the huge street fair that had been held in the Cambria City neighborhood as part of the 100-year commemoration of the 1889 flood.
The festival became an immediate hit. Held in Cambria City, a National Historic District, the free Labor Day weekend event attracted an estimated crowd in excess of 100,000, with performance stages and vendors lining both sides of Chestnut Street for 10 blocks. Crowds jammed shoulder-to-shoulder the entire length. Ethnic churches opened their doors for tours and held their own cultural events, adding to the atmosphere.
By the time the National Folk Festival’s three-year run was finished in 1992, the Johnstown event was being called one of the most successful in the festival’s history. Building on that success, JAHA, the event’s sole producer, decided to continue it as a local festival with nationally acclaimed performers. Every Labor Day weekend Chestnut Street rocked with the sounds of more than 100 performers, including the Gin Blossoms, Blues Traveler, Terrence Simien and the Zydeco Experience, Jefferson Starship, The Clarks, Boz Scaggs, Gregg Allman, Seven Nations, and scores of others, including many local groups who enjoyed the national exposure.
And while JAHA was the sole producer, there were numerous corporate sponsors, one of which was AmeriServ Financial. With national acts becoming more expensive to bring in, AmeriServ stepped in as the title sponsor in 1994, and the event continued to thrive, although as the festival grew, so did the challenges that accompanied it. Staging such a large event in a residential neighborhood caused parking problems and liability issues, not to mention the inconvenience to the neighborhood residents, although few of them complained. By 2004 the event had outgrown its venue, and the difficult decision was made to relocate to a plot of land on the edge of downtown that had previously belonged to Bethlehem Steel Corporation.
JAHA’s long range plan was to clean up the environmental issues at the site and develop it into a park that could serve as the festival’s permanent home, while still making it available for other special events. In 2009, with the trend having moved way from folk music, the festival was renamed the AmeriServ Flood City Music Festival. The next year saw the festival’s date changed to the first weekend in August and, fortified with a $2,000,000 grant from the commonwealth, the park was fully developed by 2012 and named Peoples Natural Gas Park, for its corporate sponsor.
Today, People’s Natural Gas Park hosts not only the AmeriServ Flood City Music Festival, but also a diverse menu of public events every year, bringing thousands of visitors into the area. Meanwhile, the festival continues to be popular, featuring national acts every year until 2020, when coronavirus restrictions and public health concerns caused its cancellation. It is tentatively scheduled to return this year, pending the pandemic’s status.
Tomorrow: Artrell and Andrew Hawkins
Photo credits: Flood City Music Festival
Jana Robbins
For some time I have had today’s subject on my schedule, but for some reason, just a few weeks ago, several people suggested that I do a post about her. Coincidence, I’m sure, but it seemed strange that I got those requests all within a few days of each other. As I promised those of you who asked about her, here’s her story.
Jana Robbins, her professional name, was born Marsha Eisenberg on April 18, 1947 here in Johnstown, the daughter of Phillip and Edythe Eisenberg. She was the middle child in a three-child family. At an early age she began taking dancing lessons and performing in recitals at the Gene Kelly Studio of Dane on Franklin Street, where she discovered that she loved performing. Marsha also loved singing, and she loved to perform in concerts and musicals at Westmont Hilltop High School. Her father owned the Golden Key Restaurant and Lounge downtown, and she began singing there at age 16.
Following graduation from Westmont, she attended Stephens College, a private women’s college in Columbia, Missouri. In 1967 she graduated from Stephens with a BFA (Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Arts), where she majored in Theater. As a graduate in Theater, she naturally wanted to see a New York production, and in 1968 she saw her first Broadway show, Man of La Mancha. Seeing that production, she knew what she wanted to do in life, and one year later she found herself playing the role of Aldonza in the same production on its national tour.
But the competition in New York is fierce, and it wasn’t until 1974 that she made her Broadway debut, playing Patricia Bingham in Good News. She also was chosen to be Alice Fay’s understudy. Other roles followed, both on Broadway and off.
She got her first Broadway starring role in 1983, starring as Lenny McGrath in Crimes of the Heart. Later that same year she toured as Melba in Pal Joey, which starred Joel Grey. She was soon starring and gathering excellent reviews on Broadway in a series of roles, including a two-year run in Gypsy as part of the original cast.
In 1992 she took a risk, accepting a role as a guest star on the hit television series, Cheers. For the next ten years she appeared in such shows as Family Album, The Home Court, Bless This House, Mother, Roseanne, The Last Days of Frankie the Fly, Executive Target, Night Stand, and Babylon 5.
Never one to stand still professionally, Jana/Marsha decided to try her hand as a producer, starting her own company, which she named Better World Productions. Her production of The Participant would be nominated for a Best Solo Performance Award by LA Weekly.
In 1997 she returned to performing, and for the next few years acted and sang both on Broadway and in national touring productions. Eight years latter she produced her first show on Broadway, with Sutton Foster and Maureen McGovrn starring in Little Women. Hat same year she received the Tree of Life Award from the Jewish National Fund.
Maintaining her busy schedule, she appeared in several television shows in addition to working on Broadway, including Law and Order, Law and Order: SVU, and Law and Order: Criminal Intent. She also appeared in the movies Stanley Cuba andThe Women.
Her hard work paid off in 2010 when she was nominated for a Tony Award in the category “Best Revival of a Musical,” for helping transfer Ragtime, which had successfully played at the Kennedy Center, to Broadway. Not resting on her laurels, she continued acting and producing on Broadway and Off-Broadway, as well as continuing to act on television in Nurse Jackie and The Good Wife.
In 2012 she returned to her alma mater, Stephens College, as guest director of their Okoboji Summer Theater. In 2016 she joined the advisory board of the National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene. The following year she expanded her resume by directing an Off-Broadway production, while continuing to act and sing. More awards followed in 2017 (Spirit of Theater Award) and 2018 (Olivier Award and the Top 10 Cabaret Shows), topped off with four major awards in 2019: Drama Desk Award, two New York Outer Critics Circle Awards, and the Off -Broadway Alliance Award.
When writing about this local girl who wanted to act on Broadway, a line from Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” immediately comes to mind: “If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere …” Marsha Eisenberg has certainly done that.
Tomorrow: Flood City Music Festival
Photo credits: Portrait -Tribune-Democrat, others – janarobbins.com
Jana Robbins
For some time I have had today’s subject on my schedule, but for some reason, just a few weeks ago, several people suggested that I do a post about her. Coincidence, I’m sure, but it seemed strange that I got those requests all within a few days of each other. As I promised those of you who asked about her, here’s her story.
Jana Robbins, her professional name, was born Marsha Eisenberg on April 18, 1947 here in Johnstown, the daughter of Phillip and Edythe Eisenberg. She was the middle child in a three-child family. At an early age she began taking dancing lessons and performing in recitals at the Gene Kelly Studio of Dane on Franklin Street, where she discovered that she loved performing. Marsha also loved singing, and she loved to perform in concerts and musicals at Westmont Hilltop High School. Her father owned the Golden Key Restaurant and Lounge downtown, and she began singing there at age 16.
Following graduation from Westmont, she attended Stephens College, a private women’s college in Columbia, Missouri. In 1967 she graduated from Stephens with a BFA (Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Arts), where she majored in Theater. As a graduate in Theater, she naturally wanted to see a New York production, and in 1968 she saw her first Broadway show, Man of La Mancha. Seeing that production, she knew what she wanted to do in life, and one year later she found herself playing the role of Aldonza in the same production on its national tour.
But the competition in New York is fierce, and it wasn’t until 1974 that she made her Broadway debut, playing Patricia Bingham in Good News. She also was chosen to be Alice Fay’s understudy. Other roles followed, both on Broadway and off.
She got her first Broadway starring role in 1983, starring as Lenny McGrath in Crimes of the Heart. Later that same year she toured as Melba in Pal Joey, which starred Joel Grey. She was soon starring and gathering excellent reviews on Broadway in a series of roles, including a two-year run in Gypsy as part of the original cast.
In 1992 she took a risk, accepting a role as a guest star on the hit television series, Cheers. For the next ten years she appeared in such shows as Family Album, The Home Court, Bless This House, Mother, Roseanne, The Last Days of Frankie the Fly, Executive Target, Night Stand, and Babylon 5.
Never one to stand still professionally, Jana/Marsha decided to try her hand as a producer, starting her own company, which she named Better World Productions. Her production of The Participant would be nominated for a Best Solo Performance Award by LA Weekly.
In 1997 she returned to performing, and for the next few years acted and sang both on Broadway and in national touring productions. Eight years latter she produced her first show on Broadway, with Sutton Foster and Maureen McGovrn starring in Little Women. Hat same year she received the Tree of Life Award from the Jewish National Fund.
Maintaining her busy schedule, she appeared in several television shows in addition to working on Broadway, including Law and Order, Law and Order: SVU, and Law and Order: Criminal Intent. She also appeared in the movies Stanley Cuba andThe Women.
Her hard work paid off in 2010 when she was nominated for a Tony Award in the category “Best Revival of a Musical,” for helping transfer Ragtime, which had successfully played at the Kennedy Center, to Broadway. Not resting on her laurels, she continued acting and producing on Broadway and Off-Broadway, as well as continuing to act on television in Nurse Jackie and The Good Wife.
In 2012 she returned to her alma mater, Stephens College, as guest director of their Okoboji Summer Theater. In 2016 she joined the advisory board of the National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene. The following year she expanded her resume by directing an Off-Broadway production, while continuing to act and sing. More awards followed in 2017 (Spirit of Theater Award) and 2018 (Olivier Award and the Top 10 Cabaret Shows), topped off with four major awards in 2019: Drama Desk Award, two New York Outer Critics Circle Awards, and the Off -Broadway Alliance Award.
When writing about this local girl who wanted to act on Broadway, a line from Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” immediately comes to mind: “If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere …” Marsha Eisenberg has certainly done that.
Tomorrow: Flood City Music Festival
Photo credits: Portrait -Tribune-Democrat, others – janarobbins.com
Every June since 1998 (except for COVID-cancelled 2020) the Johnstown area echoes with the sound of motorcycles. Children cover their ears. Families go away for the week, and some 150,000 to 200,000 visitors come to Johnstown for Pennsylvania’s biggest and one of the largest motorcycle rallies in America: Thunder in the Valley.
Thunder in the Valley began as a modest event that first year, sponsored by the Convention and Visitors Bureau. Some 10,000 motorcycle aficionados descended on the city. Local citizens, many thinking all those bikers had to be in organized gangs, feared the worst. And then they were gone … with no shootings, stabbings, or riots. And when they left, the image of the outlaw biker left with them. Naysayers were shocked to find attorneys, teachers, physicians, and just plain, ordinary people, had been riding on those Harleys. With fewer arrests than Johnstown experiences in a normal week, the doubters changed their minds and hoped the Convention and Visitors Bureau would do it again. And do it, they did. Not just once more, but every year since, and as the word spread and advertising reached across the country, the event grew.
Today, riders from across the United States and Canada come to the area to focus their attention (and spend their money) at one of four main areas: Central Park, the Biker Mall, the Train Station, or Peoples Natural Gas Park. The Biker Mall is a favorite of most attendees, and nearly all will find themselves at the Biker Mall at some point during their stay. There, motorcycle manufacturers and vendors answer questions and sell gear and equipment. There is also live entertainment, featuring top local bands as well as outstanding national stars. Depending on the stage closest to you, you may hear rock, country, blues, oldies, or jazz, with as many as 40 different bands performing over the course of the event. Many local and regional people who don’t ride motorcycles, or even like them, attend just for the entertainment and great food.
Large crowds can always be found at the always popular American Motor Drome Wall of Death and, of course, there is always plenty to eat or drink wherever you go. Central Park offers more of the same, adding outdoor movies in the evenings, and at Peoples Natural Gas Park, there is still more live entertainment, vendors, biker games and a custom motorcycle show, with similar attractions at the Johnstown Train Station. As a family oriented event, there are even things for the kids to enjoy, with the parking lot of the library downtown set up exclusively for childrens’ events and special activities.
Always well organized, Thunder in the Valley, or simply Thunder, as locals now call it, provides riding lessons for the ladies. Those proved so popular that a special Ladies Day features entertainment, virtual reality motorcycle rides, and drawings for great prizes, all exclusively for the gentle sex.
But the one thing that seems to bring visitors back year after year, in addition to meeting up with old friends, are the rides and tours through some of the most scenic travel routes to be found anywhere. Positive comments about the beauty of the area, something those of us who live here tend to take for granted, are nearly universal among visitors. A welcome tent at the Point Stadium offers maps of the area, including recommended riding routes, as well as visitors guides and brochures for many of the area attractions.
Unofficially, local churches and other organizations join in the festivities and offer breakfasts or lunches. Outlying towns join in, taking advantage of the large crowds by having their own events catering to the bikers.
Most of the events are free, including the concerts, although special seating areas are set up that require the purchase of an admission ticket, and several downtown streets are designated for motorcycle parking only. Parades allow the visitors to show off their bikes, with no entry fee. Bring ear plugs.
Traffic may get more congested than usual, the noise level definitely rises, and parking spaces downtown are at a premium, but most locals either enjoy going to many of the events, go away for the week, or have learned how to avoid the crowds. The inconvenience for a few days, in the minds of most people, is worth it for the positive exposure Thunder in the Valley brings to the city.
Tomorrow: Jana Robbins
Every year the Ken Lantzy All Star Classic football game pits some of the best high school senior football players in the area against each other in a North vs. South format. In recent years, all-star band members and cheerleaders have been added. For some of the players, it will be the last time they wear a football uniform, and the game is attended by thousands. But who is Ken Lantzy, and how did he get a football game named after him? My cousin, Ron Korber (technically, cousin-in-law, if there is such a thing) suggested this post, and I think it’s a great topic about a courageous young man. Thanks a lot, Ron.
In October, 1970 the Cambria Heights Highlanders football team took the home field against the rival Windber Ramblers, just as thousands of high school football teams do every week in the fall. It had not been a particularly good season for the Highlanders. They had not yet won a game in eight tries, but the team was no less enthusiastic. It was a typical autumn evening. The band was playing, cheerleaders on the sideline were cheering their team on. Parents of players beamed proudly when their sons made a play, and the crowd cheered appropriately. Everything was normal, or so it seemed.
Then, it happened. The Windber running back attempted to run a sweep around the Highlanders end. It’s a play that every team in America runs. The Cambria Heights defensive back, 16-year old Ken Lantzy, came up to stop the play. When he did, his helmet collided with the runner’s thigh, and as Lantzy described it later, something ‘clicked’ in his head. He immediately slumped to the ground, conscious but unable to move. The crowd grew silent, and players on both sides watched anxiously as he was placed in an ambulance and taken to Memorial Medical Center in Johnstown, known then as Conemaugh Valley Memorial Hospital. When the game ended, with Windber winning 20-0, nobody talked about the score. Everyone, whether a Cambria Heights fan or a supporter of the Ramblers, had the same question: “Has anyone heard how that kid is?”
At the hospital, his worried family waited to hear from the doctors. The news would not be good. Ken had suffered a spinal cord injury at the C5 vertebra. His life, and that of his family, had just changed forever. Doctors told him that he would be able to breathe normally, and he might regain some limited movement in his head, neck, and shoulders, but he would be completely paralyzed in his arms and legs. He would spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.
Insurance would cover some of Ken’s medical expenses, but not all. The injury and the followup treatment and therapy would be costly. In addition to being an athlete, Ken had been an excellent student, and he was well liked by other students and teachers. The original question, “Has anyone heard how that kid is?”, changed to “What can we do to help?”
Football coaches throughout the area knew that the injury could just as easily have happened to one of their own players. They banded together to figure out a way for everyone to get involved in something that would help Ken and his family. They decided on a benefit football game to raise funds to defray some of the escalating expenses. All-Star teams from the two divisions of the Cambria Area Football Coaches Association would play one another. The coaches decided the game should also promote local high school football in the area. And it should be named in Ken’s honor. With that, the Ken Lantzy All Star Classic was born.
The first game was played on August 16, 1971, drawing a crowd of 5,000. Ken Lantzy was part of that crowd, receiving a standing ovation when he was introduced. It just seemed right that the game would be played in Windber Stadium, since the Highlanders field was not large enough. It didn’t turn out to be much of a competition, with the North Division Yankees defeating the South Division Rebels by a score of 30-0, but nobody really cared about the final outcome. The important thing was that the game raised several thousand dollars to help the Lantzy family.
The game was such a huge success that the coaches decided it should be played every year, and the classic is now in its 50th year, with the South holding a 28-21 edge in wins. The game has been played each year with the exception of 2020, when it was forced to cancel due to coronavirus restrictions. All the money raised goes toward academic scholarships and charities such as those that address spinal cord injuries, breast cancer, multiple sclerosis, and spinal bifada.
Meanwhile, Lantzy got on with his life. He decided that complaining about his fate would not change anything, and he forced himself to take on a positive attitude that amazed those around him. He graduated from Cambria Heights in 1972 and received his Bachelor’s degree in secondary education from St. Francis University. He married his wife, Monica, in 2002, helped raise Monica’s two daughters as his own, and moved into a house in St. Benedict that he designed himself. He opened a successful insurance agency in his home and lived a normal life, coaching youth basketball and Little League baseball. And he still went fishing.
Tomorrow: Thunder in the Valley
Photo credits: Ken Lantzy All-Star Classi
Note: Richard Burkert of JAHA has informed me that he spoke with the Smithsonian a few years ago and they said they do not own the 10-ton hammer that was referred to in the third pargaph. That reference has been removed. Thanks, Richard, for that information.
The Johnstown area is blessed with several outstanding institutions of higher learning: UPJ, IUP, St. Francis University, Mt. Aloysius, Commonwealth Tech, Memorial Medical Center’s numerous specialty schools, and the Greater Johnstown Career and Technology Center, for example. But there is a new one that few would think about when asked about the local educational opportunities. It sits in an old industrial building on Iron Street in what was once Bethlehem Steel. Its name? Its called simply the Center for Metal Arts.
When talking about CMA it’s necessary to go back more than a century, to the 1860s when Cambria Iron Works was building into what would become Bethlehem Steel, one of the largest steel companies in the world. (Cambria Iron Works was the subject of one of the earliest posts in this series). Steelmaking was in its infancy, and if a tool was needed it more than likely didn’t exist, and had to be made. The blacksmith became one of the steel company’s most valued employees, and a large blacksmith shop was built. Patterns for the tools they made were saved – who knew when the same tool, or a variation of it, would be needed again?
The shop had been built in five stages and features a raised, octagonal roof on its center section. It eventually contained five massive steam-powered hammers. Hammering out small parts by hand wouldn’t work for the huge parts these smiths were fabricating.
The company grew and prospered until, in the 1970s, steelmaking took a major hit. Bethlehem Steel, along with other companies, struggled to stay competitive. Plans were unveiled to modernize the local facility. Then, in 1977, Johnstown’s third major flood struck, and a company that once employed 18,000 local citizens could no longer stay operating. They tried, but it was an uphill battle, and in 1992, Bethlehem Steel shut down its local operation. A few years later, the once mighty corporation went out of business.
The blacksmith shop also closed, that shop that had such historical significance that it had been designated a National Historic Landmark in 1989, along with a few other buildings in what was known as the Lower Works. That historical significance led Johnstown Area Heritage Association to obtain the shop and initiate sufficient repairs and maintenance to save the building. In 1998 the Johnstown Redevelopment Authority, hoping some of the buildings could be used to attract new industry, purchased several buildings and 10 acres of property surrounding them. One of the buildings included in the purchase was the old blacksmith shop.
As part of the effort to attract new business, the Redevelopment Authority turned to … what else? The internet. Pictures of the old air hammers were posted. The photos were seen by Patrick Quinn and Dan Neville in upstate New York. The two had been operating the Center for Metal Arts but had found its facilities too small. Efforts to expand had proven uneconomical. They contacted the local authorities, and in early 2018 an agreement was reached that the Center for Metal Arts would not only buy the hammers they would move their entire operation to Johnstown and work out of the old blacksmith shop.
Cleanup efforts, environmental as well as cosmetic, were begun, and work to get those massive industrial hammers back up and running was initiated. They were more than 150 years old, after all, and they hadn’t run in more than a quarter century, but Quinn and Neville were adamant that the hammers and presses would be an integral part of the new CMA. Their historical significance would turn out be a major draw for potential students around the country.
Finally, the hammers had been completely refurbished and returned to operation. The blacksmith world is a tightly knit community, and word travels fast in their circles. Soon, students were enrolling, happy to just see the mammoth hammers they had only heard about. The instructors’ expertise was well known, but being associated with the historic site has helped grow the center’s reputation across the nation. To smithing students, Johnstown is the place to be. Some consider it the Harvard of the blacksmith industry, and students now come to Johnstown from all over the United States and Canada to learn advanced techniques in blacksmithing and forging.
Skill levels range from novices who simply want to learn basic techniques to experts who return home to teach others. Men and women, hobbyists and talented craftsmen – all are leaving with a better understanding of blacksmithing. Some will make a basic knife, others will craft large sculptures. But all will be more skilled, and they will have made a connection to Johnstown’s past.
A master plan calls for further expansion of the site, to include new signage, sidewalks, greenery, a café, and a gallery. When completed, the site will look more like a college campus than an industrial site. But for those who may be wondering: no, there are no plans to field a football team.
In early 2020, the Artist-Blacksmith’s Association of North America announced plans to place its headquarters in Johnstown, largely due to the appeal of being near the CMA. The new headquarters will be placed in the railroad station in conjunction with JAHA’s plans for a large transportation and education center. The blacksmith group will include, as part of their new headquarters, a gallery, retail shop, library and wall of fame.
Too often, historical sites are torn down after they are thought to have outlived their usefulness, to be replaced by a modern office building or parking garage. The Center for Metal Arts is a living testimony to the foresight of the folks at the Redevelopment Authority, Johnstown Area Heritage Association, and everyone else who had a hand in saving this historic structure and returning it to use.
Tomorrow: Ken Lantzy
Photo Credits: Center for Metal Arts
Here’s another local guy who made it big in the NFL, but not as a player. Ray Scott was one of the top sportscasters of his time, announcing games primarily for the Green Bay Packers. His brother, Hal, was also a sportscaster, but it was Ray who became the most famous. He was good enough that he was selected to announce numerous NFL Championship games and Super Bowls. In 1967 he was the first half play-by-play announcer for the 1967 NFL Championship game that has gone down in history as the “Ice Bowl,” when Green Bay defeated Dallas 21-17. That game saw temperatures at Green Bay’s Lambeau Field drop to 15 degrees below zero during the game, with wind chills at 48 degrees below zero. In that game, several players developed frostbite and one fan died of exposure.
Ray Eugene Scott was born here in Johnstown on June 17, 1919, where he began his broadcasting career at the age of 17 on local radio in the late 1930s. I never met him, but he was a classmate of my mother at Ferndale High School, and she always spoke well of him.
Scott entered the army during World War II, after which he returned to broadcasting football games for both the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Tech. At that time, Carnegie Tech was one of the top football programs in the country, achieving national rankings in 1938 (6that the end of the season) and 1939 (15th). The Tartans had defeated Notre Dame a few years earlier at Forbes Field in what ESPN has ranked as the fourth greatest upset in college football history. In 1938 Carnegie Tech went to the Sugar Bowl, losing to Number 1 TCU by a 15-7 score. After football season, Scott turned his talents to broadcasting Duquesne University basketball.
In 1953 he made his first NFL sportscast, working for the now defunct DuMont network. Paired with Tony Canadeo on Packers telecasts, Scott gained the nickname of “The King of Understatement.” A typical touchdown announcement was simply stated as “Starr …Dowler … Touchdown” on a pass play from Bart Starr to Boyd Dowler. Compare that with the never ending chatter from broadcasters today.
In 1968 CBS discontinued its practice of assigning announcers to the same team week after week, and Scott became the play-by-play announcer for the network’s lead broadcast team. His color commentator in 1968 and 1969 was Paul Christman. From 1970 through 1973 Pat Summerall served as color man. While at CBS he was the lead announcer for four Super Bowls, seven NFL championship games, and the 1961 Orange Bowl. He also called major college games for ABC and NBC during the same time period.
His voice was so soothing and his style so popular that baseball came calling, and he became the lead announcer for the Minnesota Twins from 1961 to 1966, calling the 1965 World Series beside Vin Scully, the broadcaster for the Dodgers. When Lou Johnson hit a home run that would prove to be the eventual game winner, he nonchalantly reported: “Kaat’s pitch, uh-oh, it’s a long fly ball down the left field line. Home run.” He figured that was enough. The television fans could see it for themselves. He didn’t need to tell them what they were seeing.
He left Minnesota in 1970 to call games for the Washington Senators, returning to the Twins part-time from 1973 to 1975. In 1976 and 1977 he was the announcer for the Milwaukee Brewers.
In 1974 CBS replaced Scott with his color commentator, Pat Summerall, but Scott was not unemployed long. He became the radio announcer for the Kansas City Chiefs (1974–75), Tampa Bay Buccaneers (1976–77), and Minnesota Vikings (1978–82). He also served as a narrator for the NFL Films Game of the Week in the 1970s. Recalling his announcing days for Duquesne University, he took on play-by-play duties for the Phoenix Suns in 1974 and 1975, He moved back to football in 1975, doing syndicated broadcasts of Penn State football until 1981. He called games for the short-lived USFL from 1983 through 1985, doing play-by-play for the Arizona Wranglers in 1983 and 1984 and the Portland Breakers in 1985. During the 1988 Olympics, NBC needed veteran announcers to fill in for the announcers who had gone to Seoul. Scott was one of those NBC to do so.
As if his career hadn’t been exciting enough, Scott called football games for UCLA, Arizona, Minnesota, and Nebraska, as well as broadcasting golf and college basketball at various times. He even teamed up with Patrick Ryan to do high school and college football games around Billings, Montana. From 1986 to 1988 he was the play-by-play man for the Mizlou Television Network’s Peach Bowl broadcasts.
Late in his career, tired of the travel that went with being a top-rated sportscaster, Scott hosted a syndicated sports talk show and read newscasts at an FM radio station in Minneapolis.
His awards and honors are almost too numerous to mention: inducted into the Cambia County Sports Hall of Fame in 1969, named two-time National Sportscaster of the Year by the National Sportscaster and Sportswriters Association, and 12 regional awards from the same organization. They also inducted him into their Hall of Fame in 1982. He was named to the American Sportscasters Association Hall of Fame in 1998, and the Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame in 2001 for his contributions to the team. The Pro Football Hall of Fame awarded him the Pete Rozelle Radio-Television Award in 2000. In 2009 the American Sportscasters Association named him number 28 on their list of the Top 50 Sportscasters of All Time.
Over the last seven years of his life, Scott underwent triple-bypass heart surgery, a kidney transplant, knee surgery, two hip replacements, and suffered from kidney failure and prostate cancer. Following a long illness, Ray Scott passed away in 1998 at age 78 at Fairview University Medical Center in Minneapolis.
Tomorrow: Center for Metal Arts
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
Today marks the fifth and final installment of Cambria County National Historical Districts located outside Johnstown proper. We have looked at Colver, Revloc, Ebensburg, and Patton. We finish up today with Portage.
When the Allegheny Portage Railroad (featured here earlier) opened in 1834 it greatly improved the accessibility to the highlands of the Allegheny Plateau. Prior to that, the Allegheny Ridge presented a major obstacle to travel from the eastern part of the state to the west. As we discussed in the earlier post about the railroad, a series of 10 inclined planes carried trains loaded with canal boats up the steepest slopes. On more level areas, locomotives pulled the trains. At each stop, inns served to feed the hungry and provide rest for the weary travelers. At the foot of plane #2, a village known as Portage developed around those inns.
On the east side of the mountain sat Altoona. Johnstown was on the west side. Between the two were numerous coal mines, providing coal for the steam railroads operating out of Altoona and for the steel mills in Johnstown. When the Pennsylvania Railroad began operating between the two cities in 1854, it displaced the canal and inclined plane system. Not long after, the Allegheny Portage Railroad and the canal went out of business, spelling doom for the settlement at plane #2.
Meanwhile, the PRR established a refueling station approximately midway between the two cities, and a town grew around it. The station kept the name of Portage station, and a new town began to grow around it. In 1890, the town incorporated under the name of the borough of Portage.
As coal mines continued to prosper in the area, the already well-established lumber industry grew with it, supplying mine props and railroad ties to both the mines and the PRR. Logs were hauled along Main Street to a railroad tower on South Railroad Avenue, where they were transported out of the area. Other logs were hauled to local sawmills along a local stream known as Trout Run. Gradually, though, coal production displaced the lumber industry as the area’s largest employer. Seeing their status change, the sawmills shifted their emphasis to making lumber for the housing industry as coal companies built company houses for the new immigrant miners. The town benefited from the growth of both industries.
The 1900 census shows that most Portage residents, at least the older ones, were from Ireland, Scotland, England, Wales, and France. About 1/3 of the heads of households were coal miners, with the rest filling in the occupations that would be expected for a growing town: teamsters, landlords, hotel keepers, carriage builders, butchers, blacksmiths, store keepers, undertakers, grocers, jewelers, railroad workers, farmers, and carpenters. At the time, most spoke either English or German, but later, as more and more immigrants arrived from Eastern Europe, the language mix grew more diverse.
Rather than actually being a coal mining town, as most of the other towns around Portage were, it was a coal-transporting town. This meant that housing appearances were also diverse, rather then being predominantly company houses, although there were some of those. Those who could afford it built homes of all designs. Several private developers did quite well financially in the process.
Churches formed a major part of Portage’s early history. The churches were mostly built for immigrant congregations, and were very colorful. Services were conducted in the immigrants’ native languages and featured Old Country traditions. Most of the original churches have been replaced by new structures. Many of the congregations that did not have their own buildings held their services on the second floor of the Goldstein Building at the corner of Main and Caldwell Streets, with no regard for their denomination. The building was owned by Abraham Goldstein, a Jewish immigrant from Russia, who operated a store on the first floor.
Early Portage had a well-earned rough-and-tumble reputation, one that is well illustrated by the following example. Miners Hall, the home of United Mine Workers Local 498, became the de facto community center, with activities taking place daily. The Union met on the second floor and rented out first floor space to commercial establishments. When the building reached a state of disrepair that was about to lead to condemnation by the fire marshal, 600 miners went on strike. State Police were brought in to maintain order, and the miners accused the police of clubbing them and firing tear gas. Nine men and two women were arrested, leading the miners to claim that those arrested were “ … innocent by the standards of Portage.”
Tomorrow: Ray Scott
Photo credits: Entrance sign – Portage Borough; Portage street – apartmenthomeliving.com
The fourth National Historic District in the northern part of Cambria County is in the north-central portion of Patton Borough. Fittingly known as the Patton National Historic District, it differs from Colver and Revloc by encompassing just a portion of the town, rather than the entire town. It was added to the National Register in 1996.
In the early 1800s Patton was a small, sparsely populated settlement whose people worked almost exclusively in lumbering and farming. Located along the banks of Chest Creek, it was originally known as McGuire’s Mill. The name was later changed to Marks Mills, or Markstown. Then, in 1838, the National Geological Society discovered large deposits of coal. Mining was impractical, however, because there was no transportation system to get the coal to market.
In the mid-1880s, however, John Patton and his son, A. E. Patton, purchased several thousand acres of property around Markstown, enabling them to eventually secure a rail link to the settlement. John Patton then organized a group of investors, naming themselves the Chest Creek Land and Improvement Company, or CCLIC, which began developing the land owned by the Pattons. Land was cleared and E. C. Brown, a civil and mining engineer, laid out streets. Lot sales began shortly after, and the town of Patton became incorporated in 1893. Within two years, 200 homes had been built and the first mine was opened.
From the very beginning Patton differed from the typical coal towns like Colver and Revloc. Not wishing to depend solely on coal, the founders quickly took steps to diversify. As investors, they built hotels and retail businesses. In 1893 they lured a clay production plant from West Virginia by touting the area’s excellent clay and coal deposits, good rail transportation, and an ample labor force. This company became known as the Patton Clay Manufacturing Company, and it produced clay sewer pipe, building and paving bricks, and other clay products which were shipped all over the world. Many of the homes, business, streets, and sidewalks in the historic district were made from the locally produced bricks. With this diversification, smaller secondary industries such as lumber, railroads, hauling, and agriculture benefited, and the job base expanded still further.
But even with the diversification, nobody had any doubts about what the major industry would be. With more than 600 of Patton’s residents employed in the coal mine, coal reigned supreme. And as was done in other coal towns, the company built housing for its employees. In Patton’s case, the company was the Pennsylvania Coal and Coke Company. Managers from both the mine and the clay manufacturing plant resided in the western part of the district, and the last street settled in the district, North Fifth Avenue, took on the nickname “Doctor’s Row,” for the number of physicians that moved there. Working class homes were scattered throughout the district, again differing from other coal towns where neighborhoods were dictated by nationality.
In 1894 a grade school was built, followed by a high school on an adjoining lot. The two were connected by a walkway. Churches soon followed, with the first churches being Our Lady of Perpetual Help and Trinity Methodist, both constructed in 1893. More churches would soon follow.
Patton experienced steady growth until it peaked in the mid-1920s at about 4,000 residents. Then, as the coal industry declined, growth stagnated. There has been little new construction in the district since then. Pennsylvania Coal and Coke became Clearfield Bituminous Coal Company, and Clearfield began selling off its company houses to the tenants in 1947. In 1968 the Patton Clay Works closed. It was torn down and replaced with a shopping plaza and a senior citizen’s center.
Despite this, the Patton Historic District is considered to hold one of the richest collections of turn of the century residential, religious, and institutional architecture in the Borough of Patton and the surrounding area.
Tomorrow: Portage National Historic District
Photo credits: Church – Wikipedia; bricks – Collector’s Weekly; Clay Works – old postcard
Today we will be looking at the third in a series about Cambria County’s National Historic Districts in the central and northern parts of the county. We have already talked about Colver and Revloc, and today we’ll be discussing Ebensburg.
In 1796, Reverend Reese Lloyd established a settlement on land that had originally been granted to Dr. Benjamin Rush of Philadelphia. In so doing, he laid out streets forming 50 blocks, and in 1799 a log house, known as the Roberts Cottage, was built. The structure still remains at 415 High street and is Ebensburg’s oldest structure, although it has been updated. Just five years later, Cambria County was formed by splitting off parts of Somerset and Huntington Counties. A year after that, 1805, Lloyd’s settlement was selected as the county seat.
Ebensburg grew rapidly, settled mostly by Welsh, Irish, and German Catholics, and in 1807 the state legislature authorized the construction of a western link in the Philadelphia-Pittsburgh Turnpike. The new road passed through Ebensburg, making it a center of commerce and service for travelers. As the county seat, it soon became obvious that a courthouse would be needed, and in 1809 a courthouse was constructed. It would be replaced in 1830. The year 1818 saw the first newspaper begin publishing.
By 1850, Ebensburg not only had the courthouse, it also had a jail, post office, and a volunteer fire company, along with three public schools and eight churches. Six hotels and several taverns provided food, drink, and overnight accommodations for those passing through town. Butchers and grocers provided sustenance, and dry goods stores, cobblers, clothing stores, and furniture stores provided for other needs. With horses still being the primary mode of transportation, blacksmith shops and saddleries opened.
Sitting on the main road between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, the town became a major stagecoach stop, with as many as 50 coaches coming into town every day. Residents soon saw a way to capitalize on this traffic, opening up inns, or even their own homes, to provide lodging, and at either end of what is now High Street, a toll gate was set up.
The prosperity brought on by the turnpike came crashing down in 1846, however, when the Pennsylvania Railroad received its charter and chose to follow the path of the old Allegheny Portage Railroad several miles south of town. The path of the new railroad led to two resorts springing up, Cresson Springs and the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. The latter was a playground for the wealthy from Pittsburgh and, as we well know, was eventually responsible for the 1889 Johnstown Flood. Cresson Springs, with a guest house that could accommodate 600 overnight guests and a gaslighted boardwalk, siphoned more travelers from the turnpike, adversely affecting Ebensburg’s travel trade temporarily. Eventually, however, wealthy industrialists saw the town as a respite from the hustle and bustle of the larger resorts, and the town began seeing travelers return.
Before long, resorts began to spring up in Ebensburg that were able to compete with those along the railroad. While these defeated the intents of those who saw the town as a quiet retreat, it opened a new era of prosperity for the town. When the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club and the Cresson Springs resorts eventually closed, the town grew even more popular, particularly as a summer destination.
A clear distinction developed pitting the wealthy against the working class, at least in terms of housing. The wealthy built large homes along what are now High and Cedar Streets, with the wagon makers, railroad workers, and laborers concentrated around Ogle, Triumph, and Spruce Streets. Summer cottages, built by wealthy Pittsburghers, were built on large lots on the northern edge of town. Most are still there. The A. W. Buck House on North Center Street is a good example of these, and today it houses the Cambria County Historical Society. A photo of the house is attached at the end of this post.
The popularity of the horseless carriage in the early 1900s, however, opened up the country for visitors, and slowly Ebensburg saw its status as a resort town slipping. First it was the rich that began spending their leisure time elsewhere, then the growing middle class. Ebensburg hadn’t changed, but the tastes of the traveling population had. The town was no longer a prime tourist hot spot, and it returned to its former role as a government and commercial center.
In February 1915, a small fire at a hotel spread rapidly, jumping from building to building. To stop the spread, dynamite was used to create a break, but it was too late. Nearly the entire business district of Ebensburg was gone, with 26 businesses destroyed. The town spent the next 10 years rebuilding, this time using more fire-resistant materials. A large park was added, complete with a veterans’ monument. Highway construction increased to accommodate the popularity of mobile travel, and the old stagecoach routes became US 219 and US 422. With a more mobile society, Ebensburg slowly evolved into a working-class community. As the wealthy industrialists died off, their estates were subdivided into smaller lots, with more houses.
Although the town was changing, it managed to avoid deteriorating in the way so many other small towns across the country had. Hotels that once served as resorts now catered to the traveler and the businessman. When US 22, better known then as the William Penn Highway, was completed in 1927, Ebensburg once again became a bustling center of commerce. Today it exhibits that busy atmosphere while maintaining a more 19thcentury appearance, adding to its charm. Ebensburg is the county’s most recent addition to the list of National Historic Districts, being added in 2019.
Tomorrow: Patton National Historic District
Photo credits: Buck House – Cambria County Historical Society; park and veterans’ monument – Ebensburg Parks Dept.; Courthouse – Tribune-Democrat
oday we are talking about the second in a five-part series of postings on the National Historic Districts in Cambria County outside Johnstown. Yesterday the subject was the town of Colver. Today we will look at Colver’s sister town, Revloc, which if you haven’t noticed, is simply Colver spelled backwards.
The two towns have much more in common than just the reversed spellings of their names. Reading the history of one sounds almost like reading the history of the other. Both were founded by John Heisley Weaver and his partner, B. Dawson Coleman at almost the same time.
Working through a subsidiary of the partnership, the Monroe Coal Company, the shaft for the Revloc mine was begun in 1916, and just as he did for Windber, Colver, and other coal towns, S.H. Jencks laid out the plan for Revloc. Jencks, as we noted in the Colver posting, was the chief engineer for the Cambria and Indiana Railroad. The shaft was completed the next year, with the first coal being shipped in 1918.
With that shipment, the Sauers and Moore Construction Company from Williamsport began putting Jencks’s plan into action, building 144 homes in what would become the town of Revloc. The plan was to eventually have 500 homes with running water, electricity, and a sewer system. A cinema and hotel were also planned but were never constructed. The electricity was actually just a single bulb in each room, and it would be many years before private developers put in the sewers.
As we talked about in the Colver post, the partnership dissolved in 1922, although the Revloc mine continued to operate for 60 more years. Situated in a relatively remote area, just as Colver was, led the Monroe Coal Company to build company housing to attract workers. Other coal companies did the same and a 1925 survey conducted by the United States Coal Commission confirmed that more than half of Pennsylvania’s coal miners lived in homes built by the company they worked for. As in other coal towns, managers lived in more substantially built and more attractive houses. With Revloc’s hilly terrain, managers generally had their homes, which were larger and better constructed, on the tops of the hills. Most lived on what is now Highland Avenue.
Revloc’s company-built houses were generally nicer than those in similar towns, with locations that were more attractive and with lots that were larger, providing more space for gardens. With less cramping of space, the company reasoned, workers would be healthier. The company encouraged gardening as a means of providing supplemental food as well as a way to instill a sense of pride in the community.
Ethnic background usually determined a miner’s job assignment, as well as their housing location. Italians usually lived in the northeastern part of town, while Eastern Europeans generally settled in the south-central section. German immigrants gravitated to the extreme southern part of town, and those of mixed heritage moved into the northwestern section. To save money, many of the homes were occupied by 10 or more residents, forcing them to sleep in shifts.
Shopping in Revloc, as in most company towns, was done at the company store, and prospective workers were required to sign an agreement to make their purchases on credit and allowing the company to deduct the costs from their paycheck. This had the effect of keeping employees from shopping in the less expensive shops in nearby Ebensburg. Those who refused to sign the agreement were not considered for employment. Some miners started small businesses in their homes, such as barber shops or confectionery stores, to supplement their income.
The company also built numerous other buildings in Revloc, including a school that doubled as an interdenominational church and a post office, with A.E. Roberts serving as the first postmaster. In 1921 the company organized and operated its own police department.
The Monroe Coal Company, like most companies in the area, fought against unionization, using the threat of eviction, blacklisting, and company spies to discourage talks of organizing. With wages tied directly to coal weights produced, miners constantly complained that the company never gave fair weights. When the United Mine Workers sent an organizer into town, the company immediately responded by imposing a curfew to prevent workers from attending meetings. They also brought in the Coal and Iron Police, a group that became notorious for their antilabor vigilantism. On at least one occasion an immigrant worker was brutally beaten to invoke fear into other workers.
In July, 1922 the workers joined in on the national coal strike. Monroe Coal Company responded by evicting workers, forcing many to establish tent camps outside the town borders. The men reluctantly returned to work a month later, accepting the pre-strike conditions. The company workers would eventually organize and join the United Mine Workers in 1933, but the company refused to allow the construction of a union hall in Revloc, forcing the new union local to hold meetings in the basement of the Most Holy Redeemer church. When a new company store was built, the union bought the old one to serve as its union hall.
Today, Revloc still contains much of its original appearance. The historic district still contains many of the original mine buildings, as well as the old school and much of its housing. It was placed the National Register of Historic Places in 1995.
Tomorrow: Ebensburg National Historic District
Photo credits: color photo – Wikipedia; black and white photos – Library of Congress
Previously we discussed the national historic districts within Johnstown and the immediate area, but there are numerous additional historic districts outside the city limits that are just as interesting. Over the next few days we will be looking at those towns, in no particular order.
The first of these is Colver, designed by S. H. Jencks, chief engineer for the Cambria and Indiana Railroad. Coincidentally, Jencks also helped lay out the Windber Historic District, which was discussed here earlier. Colver was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1994 and features a number of buildings more than 100 years old. The town is historical for its company housing, Cambria and Indiana Railroad shop buildings, mining history, and a dairy farm associated with the Colver Mine of the Ebensburg Coal Company.
In 1909, Williamsport coal operator John Heisley Weaver formed a partnership with B. Dawson Coleman, from Lebanon. Although they were based in Philadelphia, the two began buying up mineral rights in an area just north of Ebensburg, and in 1910 they opened the Colver (from COLeman and WeaVER) through a subsidiary, the Ebensburg Coal Company. They also bought the old Blacklick and Yellow Creek Railroad with financial assistance from the New York Central Railroad, refurbished it, and renamed it the Cambria and Indiana Railroad. They used it to haul coal from their new mine to the Cherrytree and Dixonville Railroad line in Indiana County.
While they were developing their mine and refurbishing the railroad, Weaver and Coleman began constructing a power house, colliery, and the first of their company-built houses. They then focused their attention on support facilities for the railroad, including offices, a machine shop, blacksmith shop, two engine houses, and a reservoir.
The partnership between Weaver and Coleman dissolved in 1922, with Coleman maintaining control of the coal company and Weaver and the New York Central keeping the railroad. In 1948 the railroad was sold to Clearfield Bituminous Coal Company. Eight years later, the Eastern Associated Coal Corporation bought Ebensburg Coal Company. The railroad was sold again in 1977 to Bethlehem Steel Corporation, which operated it until late 1993, when it closed the shops.
The Colver Mine produced a high=grade coal that was considered perfect for making coke or steam, having low moisture levels and high fixed-carbon content. During the 1910s and 1920s the mine was one of the largest producers in Cambria County, topped only by mines operated by large corporations.
With the mine located in a rural area, the Ebensburg Coal Company, like most companies, constructed housing for the workers. This allowed the company to control labor unrest through the threat of eviction. It also enabled the company to recover some of the mine’s labor costs through rents and sales at the company store. Four housing communities were built, the first being called Shanty Town, completed in 1911. Shanty Town is gone now, having been torn down in the 1970s for strip mining. The next two were known as Twenty Row (also completed in 1911) and Nine Row (finished in 1912). Remarkably, even after more than 100 years, they look almost the same as the day they were built, with only a few of the original buildings gone. The fourth housing area became known as Colver, or Colver Heights, completed at about the same time as Nine Row and also largely unchanged. A small 12-home community known as Bakerville also contained some of Colver’s commercial structures. Built by private individuals, only six of the original houses remain.
Of the company houses, all were constructed basically the same, sitting on stone foundations and painted white with gray trim. In 1928 those houses were covered with green asphalt siding. Over the years the various owners have added their own personal touches, such as vinyl or aluminum siding or replacement windows. They were built in rows and all sat the same distance from the street as the other houses in their row. The Colver Heights houses had small green spaces between the house and the street, while those in Twenty Row and Nine Row were built flush with the street. All had small entry porches. Four-room hoses rented for $6 to $9 a month, while six-room houses rented for $9 to $11.
Electricity from the company’s power house was furnished at no cost, although each room had only a single bare light bulb hanging in the center of each room. Running water came from a spigot that was shared by two houses, with the spigot placed between every other house. There was no inside plumbing until the late 1940s. Back yards contained an outhouse, coal bin, and enough space for livestock or a small garden. The company paid for fences, and prizes were offered for the nicest gardens. Managers lived in brick homes on large corner lots, to reflect their status.
The Cambria and Indiana Railroad shops contained the railroad’s headquarters building and two roundhouses, along with smaller utility buildings. The shops are still mostly intact. Likewise, the coal company’s portal, power house (built in 1911), dynamite storage buildings, and two small ponds remain. Not far away, but still within Colver, sit the mine’s hoist house, a combination wash house and laundry, coal company offices, company store, and a hotel. Prior to 1980, when they were torn down, a company plumbing and carpenter shop sat between the store and the hotel. A hospital, converted from one of the old mine offices in 1915, had 18 beds, two wards, several private rooms, a nursery, and a doctor’s office. A school, built in 1913, was torn down in 1927 so a larger one could be built.
The Colver Hotel was designed by Philadelphia architect Horace Trumbauer and was also built in 1912. It was originally intended to be posh, to be used for visiting company executives. However, seeing a need for more housing, rooms were eventually rented to single employees, and the bar was opened to local residents. With only a few minor structural modifications, it looks much as it did more than 100 years ago. It is shown as the larger building in the attached photos.
In addition to the hotel bar, entertainment was provided by the Nickelodeon theater, a bandstand, and a company baseball team, the Colver Colts. Skilled players often were given better jobs in the mines and shops, accompanied by higher pay.
Many of the old buildings have been preserved but no longer are used for their original purpose. The coal company’s offices, for example, now serve as the town’s post office and a retail operation. The offices are shown as the smaller building in the attached photos. The town theater, dating to 1912, now houses a bar and barber shop.
Tomorrow: Revloc National Historic District
Photo credits: Library of Congress
Football has always been a violent sport. It is not a game for the timid. So, when a player comes along who is a hard-hitting defensive tackle, but turns out to be as polite as the kid your mom always said you should be like, well … take a second look because you probably won’t see another one. Such a player was Steve Smear.
How good was he? How polite was he? Both questions can be answered with one illustration: the 1967 game between Penn State and UCLA. The Bruins quarterback was Gary Beban, who was good enough that year to win the Heisman Trophy. The Baltimore Sun reported that Smear spent more time on Beban’s back that day than the numbers on Beban’s jersey. Smear played like he was possessed, and by the end of the game Beban’s head was on a swivel to make sure he ran the play in a direction away from wherever Smear was. When the game ended, though, Smear ran the length of the field to shake Beban’s hand and wish him well in the Heisman voting. Oh, yeah … he also referred to his opponent as Mr. Beban. Now, that’s the demeanor your mom was trying to drill into you.
Steve Smear was born in Johnstown on May 18, 1948. From the time he was in grade school he showed himself to be an athlete. His family owned the Old Toll Gate Inn in Benscreek, where they also lived. Across the road sat St. Andrews School, where Steve’s sports career began. He showed so much promise as a basketball player that his coaches gave him a key to the gymnasium so he could practice his jump shot. Remember, this was while he was still in grade school. He also played some football.
When he reached high school at Bishop McCort, he played on the football team with future NFL stars Jack Ham and Pete Duranko, both of whom have been featured in earlier posts. You may think a player would be overshadowed when he was on a team with players like that, but Smear was not one to take a back seat to anyone on a football field. Or a basketball court.
The Crimson Crushers had an outstanding basketball team in Smear’s senior year, including Division 1 scholarship players, but Smear was the recognized leader. He helped lead the team to a 28-2 record, winning the state championship for Catholic schools.
After graduating, Smear was courted as a football player by such football powers as Notre Dame, Michigan State, and Penn State. Notre Dame had always been his favorite team when he was growing up, but Duranko was already there making a name for himself, and Smear wanted to make his own way. Michigan State looked attractive, but he would have to start his career there as a backup to Bubba Smith, future NFL All-Pro. Wanting to play right away, he chose Penn State, where he was credited with being one of the players to help launch the Joe Paterno era.
Smear became a starter in his sophomore year, helping the Nittany Lions to eight wins that year. He never played in a losing game in his junior and senior years, when PSU went 22-0 and won two Orange Bowl games. He was named All-American in 1968 and was awarded the Nils V. “Swede” Nelson Award, presented by the Boston Gridiron Club to the player who “… demonstrates a high esteem for the football code and exemplifies sportsmanship to an outstanding degree.” (Remember his game against Mr. Beban)?
Following graduation from Penn State, Smear signed a pro contract with the Montreal Alouettes, despite repeated attempts by the Baltimore Colts to sign him after drafting him in the 4th round of the NFL draft. In 1970, with Montreal, he was named to both the Canadian Football League’s East All-Star team and the CFL’s All-Star team. . That same year he helped the Alouettes win the Grey Cup, Canada’s equivalent to the Super Bowl. It was only the second time in the Cup’s 61-year history that Montreal won. He was named to the East All-Star team again in 1971.
In 1973, Smear reluctantly turned down a new contract with Montreal. Acting on his own behalf rather than using an agent, he had offered to play for the same salary for three years, one that was only $2,000 more than he had earned the previous year. That year had included a small bonus, bringing his pay to $28,000. Smear offered to play for $30,000 a year for the next three years. That was it. Only a $2,000 raise, then no raises for two more years. There was no threat to hold out, no pounding on the table making demands, no outrageous request for the big bucks, or “loonies,” as they say north of the border. No, that would not have been keeping with Smear’s character. He wanted to stay in Montreal. He loved the city, but the Alouettes were losing money. They told Steve they couldn’t pay him what he wanted, and he was traded to the Toronto Argonauts. The fans took the trade about as well as Steelers fans would if T.J. Watt would be traded.
He played in Toronto for one year, then spent two more years with the Saskatchewan Roughriders before retiring after the 1975 season. He settled in Annapolis, Maryland and became a successful insurance executive.
In 1973, while still playing, he was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. In 2006 he was named to the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame Western Chapter in 2006 and to the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame in 2013. And although the humble Smear doesn’t brag about it, he once beat Arnold Palmer in an amateur tournament.
Tomorrow: Colver National Historic District
Photo credits: head shot – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame; action photo – cflapedia
When we think of department stores in downtown Johnstown, usually only two come to mind: Penn Traffic and Glosser Brothers. (Both of these have been featured here previously). Had you asked that question in the early to mid-1900s, though, you would have heard of a third one: Nathan’s.
Nathan’s had been a family-operated business in Johnstown since the late 1880s. In the early 1900s, however, the family decided it was time to update. Recognizing that their existing store was too small, they decided to construct a larger, more modern facility. They commissioned Pittsburgh architect Charles Bickel to design it.
Constructed in 1917, the four-story structure had more than a full acre of floor space, plus a basement that added another quarter-acre. The building remains today, sitting on Main Street, across from Central Park. Both the interior and the exterior are much the same as they were when the building was constructed, with the exception of the first floor, which has undergone numerous renovations over the years. One of the main features of the building has been preserved, however: the Chicago windows. These windows are an architectural style in which the windows are divided into three main sections by mullions.
For several years following World War I, Nathan’s was one of the city’s most important retail operations. Originally the store was a low-priced, general merchandise department store whose clientele consisted primarily of farmers, miners, and steelworkers. In the late 1920s, however, the store’s management decided to move to higher priced merchandise that appealed more to the carriage trade. While a decent idea in theory, the timing of the move couldn’t have been worse. Building a new customer base takes time, and before the clientele change could be fully implemented, the 1929 stock market crash, followed by the Great Depression, cut deeply into the store’s revenue stream. The 1936 flood inflicted extensive damage on the building and, unable to absorb the impact of one major setback after another, the management was forced to close the operation. A photo accompanying this post shows the Nathan building in the background during the 1936 flood.
Eventually the site was leased to S. S. Kresge, a national chain of variety stores. Kresge’s operated successfully in the building for several years. In the mid-1970s several S. S. Kresge stores nationally were converted to Jupiter stores, a low-priced, no-frills discount store. The former Nathan’s was one of those that became a Jupiter. The Jupiter store operated successfully until the 1977 flood struck, causing so much damage that the company opted to close it rather than go through the time and expense to clean up and repair the damage.
Today the building is referred to as Central Park Commons. Now housing retail stores and offices, it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in August 1979.
Tomorrow: Steve Smear
Photo credits: Flood photo – National Archives; Current photo – Wikipedia
Chances are you’ve never heard of Emil Sitka. I never had, either, until someone suggested that I do a story about him. Try as I might, I can’t find the email that contained that suggestion, so I don’t remember whose idea it was. If the person who suggested Emil Sitka is reading this, I apologize for not giving you credit. Feel free to let me know your name and I’ll be sure to credit you in one of the future posts. (And if you want to be mad at me, I understand. Go ahead.)
Emil Sitka was born in Johnstown on December 22, 1914, the oldest of five children in the family. His father, also named Emil, was a coal miner who had immigrated to the United States from Hungary with his wife, Helena, and had gravitated to Johnstown to find work.
When young Emi was only 12 years old, his father died of black lung disease. His mother was also ill, and had been hospitalized, rendering her unable to care for the children. His younger siblings were placed into foster homes, and Emil was sent to Pittsburgh, where he lived in a Catholic church. After serving as an altar boy, he made the decision to become a priest. At about the same time, he had a part in the church’s annual passion play, exposing him to acting for the first time. That role changed his mind and his life. He now wanted to be an actor. After the flood of 1936, Emil decided to go to Hollywood to pursue his dream.
Over his career he acted in both short and feature films, appearing with such luminaries as Lucille Ball, Milton Berle, Red Skelton, Tony Curtis, Alan Hale, Walter Brennan, Dan Blocker, Joey Bishop, Bob Denver, Jack Lemon, Mickey Rooney, Betty Grable, Tyrone Power, and many others. However, Emil Stika fans will tell you he is remembered mostly for his movies with … wait for it: THE THREE STOOGES!
He played a bit part as a butler in Half Wits Holiday and was such a hit that the Stooges wanted him back. One role led to another, until Sitka became a regular in Three Stooges movies, playing in dozens of their short films, as well as most of their feature films. He would become informally recognized as the Fourth Stooge.
In a 1947 film titled Brideless Groom, Sitka plays the role of a Justice of the Peace who is about to marry Shemp Howard and some girl who has agreed to be the bride so she can get a part of the $500,000 that Howard will inherit if he is married by 6:00 pm. To start the ceremony, the JP (Sitka) instructs the couple to “Hold hands, you lovebirds.” Before he can go any further, however, several other girls burst in saying they were supposed to be the bride. Mayhem ensued (it was a Three Stooges film, remember), and each time he gets as far as “Hold hands, you lovebirds,” the progressively more disheveled Sitka gets beaten again. With every beating, “Hold hands, you lovebirds” comes out weaker and weaker. The line would become his most famous, and he would forever be identified with it. The scene became so iconic that it was featured in the 1994 film, Pulp Fiction, which featured John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Bruce Willis, and Uma Thurman.
In 1970, actor Larry Fine, who played the stooge known as Larry, suffered a debilitating stroke. Plans were made to cast Sitka as his replacement, playing Larry’s brother Harry. A few promotional films were made, but before the first of two planned feature films could be made, Moe Howard, the leader of the group, fell ill and passed away, scuttling the project.
Sitka continued his acting career but found he was type-cast. In one of his cameo roles, a customer in a supermarket in the film Intruder, the director had him utter his signature line, “Hold hands, you lovebirds.” It became one of the most memorable lines in the movie. For the rest of his life he was asked to appear at weddings to repeat his famous line.
Sitka was said to be one of the most approachable actors in Hollywood and was known for writing back to fans, and even sending them greeting and holiday cards.
Emil Sitka, the Fourth Stooge, died January 16, 1998 at age 83 and was buried in the Conejo Mountain Memorial Park in Camarillo, California. His headstone reads “Hold hands, you lovebirds.”
Tomorrow: Nathan’s Depatment Store
Photo Credits: Headshot and headstone – Find-a-Grave; Others – Wikipedia
If you lived in Johnstown at any time prior to 1993 you shopped at Glosser Brothers or one of its Gee Bee discount stores. That isn’t an opinion. It’s a fact. I will be surprised if anyone who lived here before the company went out of business responds with “I never did.” Glosser’s was a Johnstown institution for nearly 90 years. Everyone went there for something.
The company traced its beginning to 1906 when Louis and Nathan Glosser borrowed $200 from Morris Miller, owner of Miller’s Clothing Store, and bought out Jacob Fisher, who owned a menswear shop in the Franklin Building at the corner of Franklin and Locust streets. The Glossers then opened a small one-room tailor shop. The brothers had emigrated to Johnstown as refugees from Belarus, fleeing the persecution of Jews by the Czarist regime.
In 1909 they expanded into an adjacent room, and within 10 years the little one-room store had grown to include the entire first floor of the building. It was now a full-service upscale department store, specializing in men’s and women’s clothing, housewares, and groceries. In 1926 the Glosser’s purchased the entire building and expanded further.
Glosser’s became a major competitor of Penn Traffic, and both stores flourished. A trip downtown for anything, even if shopping wasn’t the main purpose, usually included a stop in one or both stores. Those going into Glosser’s were treated with an aroma that was its own unique blend of odors of leather, popcorn, peanuts, and confections. That blend has never been duplicated locally since the store closed, and we are all the poorer for that. The popcorn and peanut machines, particularly, had to work overtime to keep up with the demands of those who just wanted to take some across Locust Street to feed the Central Park pigeons.
The company grew, and in the 1960s they added a discount store branch known as Gee Bee’s. With the success of Gee Bee’s, about 10 years later the company opened a scaled down version of Gee Bee’s called Gee Bee, Jr., selling discount clothing and accessories. Some of the larger locations also included a supermarket, although that was usually in a separate building.
The chain continued to grow, and at its peak had 24 department stores, 18 supermarkets, and 44 discount stores. It operated in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia, and Maryland. However, the proliferation of discount stores cut deeply into the company’s sales. Finally, in 1989, Glosser Brothers declared bankruptcy. The grocery division closed and was sold to other grocery chains. These drastic moves helped for a while, and in 1991 the company emerged from bankruptcy, at which time it was put up for sale.
In May, 1992 the company was purchased by Value City, which converted many of the Gee Bee stores to Value City stores. The last Gee Bee store to close was the one in the Westwood Plaza.
The main store downtown underwent renovations in the 1990s and was converted to a mix of offices, restaurants, and retail. It was included in the downtown historic district when downtown was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1992.
Tomorrow: Emil Sitka
Photo Credits: Library of Congress
Today’s person of interest provides a bit of a change of pace. He wasn’t a professional athlete, and he wasn’t one of the industrialists that helped Johnstown to grow in the early years. His name is Richard Verma, and all he did was grow up to become the United States Ambassador to India. He isn’t very old, either, so I suspect many of his high school classmates at Westmont Hilltop may be reading this. If so, your classmate did well for himself.
Richard Rahul Verma was born November 27, 1968 in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, the youngest of five children in the Verma family. His parents, both teachers, had been born in India. In fact, it was his father’s profession that brought the family to Johnstown when Richard was just a young boy. Then, his father took a position at UPJ as an English professor, where he would teach for the next 40 years.
Richard attended schools in the Westmont Hilltop School District, graduating in 1986. He attended Lehigh University in Bethlehem, graduating with his Bachelor of Science degree in Industrial Engineering. At Lehigh he was in ROTC, a member of Lambda Chi Alpha, and senior class president.
Following graduation from Lehigh, Verma attended American University’s Washington College of Law, where he received his Juris Doctor degree; Georgetown University Law Center, receiving his Master of Laws degree; and Georgetown University, where he earned his Ph. D.
From 1994 to 1998 he served in the U.S. Air Force as an Air Force Judge Advocate. His military decorations included the Meritorius Service Medal and the Air Force Commendation Medal.
After leaving the Air Force he became a partner in the global law firm of Steptoe & Johnson LLP, where he served until 2004, when he left to become Senior National Security Advisor to Senate Majority Leader Harry Read, a position he held until 2007. In 2008 he noted two major achievements: he became a member of the Commission on the Prevention of WMD (weapons of mass destruction) Proliferation and Terrorism, and he co-authored a book titled World at Risk. He had just reached his 40th birthday.
In 2009 he joined the State Department as Assistant Secretary of State for Legislative Affairs under Secretary of Tate Hillary Clinton. Five years later, in September 2014, President Barack Obama nominated him to serve as the next Ambassador to India. On December 4, 2014 his nomination made it through the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, which voted to send his nomination to the full Senate. Five days later, with no dissent, the U. S. Senate unanimously confirmed him. He became the first person of Indian descent to hold the position.
As Ambassador to India, Verma took on the task of oversight of one of the largest U.S. diplomatic missions in the world, including four consulates with staff from nearly every agency in the U.S. government. He oversaw several meetings between President Obama and Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi and created more than 100 new initiatives between the two countries. He has been credited with deepening and expanding bilateral ties between the two countries. He also became the first U.S. Ambassador to visit every one of India’s 28 states. Under his tenure relations between the two countries were said to be the best they had ever been.
On January 20, 2017, Verma stepped down from his ambassadorship, becoming Vice Chairman of the Asia Group, which bills itself as “…the premier strategic advisory firm to the world’s leading companies seeking to excel across Asia.” Since 2020 he has been Executive Vice President at Mastercard. In short, he is rubbing elbows with some of the worlds most influential leaders.
Verma is also an active thought leader and commentator on international relations, international law, trade, and diplomacy. He is a Centennial Fellow at Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service] and a Senior Fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs. He also co-chairs the Center for American Progress’ U.S.-India Task Force and serves on the boards of T. Rowe Price and the National Endowment for Democracy. Just in case he runs out of things to occupy his time, he is also a trustee of Lehigh University, where he gave the 151st commencement address in May 2019, and has been a director of T. Rowe Price Group since 2018.
In his career, the WHHS grad has amassed a number of honors, including receiving the State Department’s Distinguished Service Medal, the Council on Foreign Relations International Affairs Fellowship, and the Chief Justice John Marshall Lifetime Service Award. To top all that off, India Abroad Magazine has named Verma as one of the 50 most influential Indian-Americans in the country. Not bad for a boy from Westmont.
His name may not appear on a list of outstanding athletes from our area, and he may never become a household name, but the former Hilltopper is indisputably one of the most influential people in the world. And that may just be a bit more important.
Tomorrow: Glosser Brothers
Photo credits: Photo with banner – US Embassy, India; other photos – U.S. State Department
Some readers may recall that, back in November, I posted the story of the Shade Creek Furnace. The Shade Creek Furnace was an old ironmaking furnace that was located near Central City and was in use from 1808 to 1858. Unfortunately, the furnace is now in ruins, and can only be visualized by referring to old photos.
However, a similar furnace remains relatively intact near Vintondale, near the mid-point of the Ghost Town Trail. Known as the Eliza Furnace, it is considered one of the best preserved hot blast furnaces which still has its original heat exchanger piping. It was one of three furnaces constructed in the Blacklick Valley.
Two partners, David Ritter and George Rodgers, purchased several thousand acres of land in the Blacklick Valley during the 1830s and 1840s. Ritter and Rodgers chose to place their furnace near the forks of the North and South branches of Blacklick Creek. In 1845 construction was started, but before it was completed Rodgers sold his share to a Centre County farmer named Lot Irvin. The stonework was done by stone mason Thomas Deveraux and two Irish immigrants, John and William Gillin. The furnace was completed in 1846 and became known as Ritter’s Furnace. The stones are so intricately fitted that no mortar was used to hold the furnace together.
A water wheel drove bellows which pushed “blasts” of air across the heat exchangers, which were heated by exhaust gases from burning charcoal in the furnace. The heated air was piped down the side of the furnace stack and forced into the hearth. This process was very inefficient, heating the air by only about 10oto 15o. This inefficiency would eventually contribute to the furnace’s demise.
The Eliza Furnace shipped about 1,000 tons of crude iron every year to the steel mills in Pittsburgh. To produce this iron, a force of 90 men and boys was required, along with about 45 horses and mules. The operation covered 231 acres of the vast property owned by Ritter and Irvin, and it included a casting house, stove house, 21 log homes, a wagon shop, smoke house, stable, sawmill, boarding house, and store. To keep costs down, Ritter and Irvin often paid their employees in goods or services, rather than cash.
Product from the furnace was hauled by wagon to Ninevah (modern day Seward), near Johnstown, where it was loaded on canal boats for shipment to Pittsburgh. The furnace never really was profitable, and Ritter ran into personal financial difficulty. His problems came to a head when his former partner, George Rodgers, sued him for $350 for Ritter’s failure to pay past due debts. Unable to come up with the money, Ritter had to forfeit property in Armagh as payment.
In July 1848, the furnace operation was seized and sold at sheriff’s sale to Soloman Alter and Joseph Replier of Philadelphia, who also found it unprofitable. A combination of high shipping costs, poor ore quality, and a reduction in demand in the late 1840s spelled the end for the Eliza Furnace, and when the Pennsylvania Railroad chose to go through the Conemaugh Valley rather than through the Blacklick Valley, its fate was sealed. The Eliza Furnace ceased operation in 1849, just three years after it began.
Today the furnace, which is fairly well preserved and easy to access, is owned by the Cambria County Historical Society and leased to Indiana County Parks. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Tomorrow: Richard Verma, former Ambassador to India
Photo credits: Color photos of the furnace- Indiana County Parks; old B/W photo – Library of Congress
Several weeks ago I posted the history of the current Johnstown airport. Of the many comments I received, one came from Curt Davis, who suggested a similar posting about the original airport in Westmont. It took a while to gather the information, but I’ve finally been able to piece together the story of how and when Johnstown came into the aviation age. Thank you, Curt Davis, for the suggestion.
As far back as several years before the birth of Christ, man has dreamed of flying. It began with the first kite flown in China. It wasn’t long before some kite flier wondered if a kite could be made that would lift a man, and some man-carrying kites actually worked. The first known attempts at actual flight, however, came in the mid-seventh century, when strapping wings onto a man’s arms and jumping from some elevated level was attempted, with the expected results. In the 15th century Leonardo da Vinci drew up several designs, described as rational but unscientific, of a flying machine. Fortunately for Leonardo, he never tried any of them. The discovery of hydrogen led to hydrogen balloons, then came hot air balloons, although their main purpose was for military observation. However, we were finally getting off the ground.
Balloons led to dirigibles and airships, and a successful 15-mile flight was made in 1852 in France. Over the years, advances were made that convinced scientists that heavier than air craft were feasible, and the race was on to come up with the first successful design. In 1896, Samuel Pierpont Langley, working at what is now the University of Pittsburgh, launched an unmanned engine-driven heavier-than-air craft that flew more than 3,000 feet at a speed of about 25 miles per hour. Langley’s flight proved that it would be possible for man to fly in a heavier-than-air craft.
Then, on December 17, 1903 the Wright Brothers made what is considered the first successful controlled and sustained flight carrying a man, when Orville Wright flew 120 feet in 12 seconds at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. By the end of the day, his brother Wilbur was able to fly for 59 seconds, traveling 852 feet, and the age of flight was born. On January 1, 1914 the world’s first scheduled passenger airline service began with a flight between St. Petersburg and Tampa, Florida.
At the end of World War I, returning soldiers spoke of their fascination with aviation. Interest levels grew to a point where there was talk of having an airfield in Johnstown. The idea took hold and a site in Westmont was selected.
Fifteen years after the first passenger flight, commercial aviation had reached a point where it was now practical (and relatively safe) to fly regularly scheduled passenger flights between cities. On July 17, 1929 more than 25,000 people gathered in Westmont to witness the dedication of the first local airfield, known as Westmont Municipal Airport. Located on Goucher Street on the old Stutzman farm adjacent to Sunnehanna Country Club, the new airport was opened by Air Services Inc.
The dedication ceremony lasted an entire day. Six planes from the US Navy and 12 more from the Army took part in the celebration. The assistant secretary of the Navy was in attendance, as was Lester J. Maitland, the first man to fly from the west coast to Hawaii, but the biggest attraction was an appearance by Amelia Earhart.
Earhart, who had been the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean, had left New York at 7:30 am and made it to Johnstown without using any maps. While in Johnstown she visited Cochran Junior High School, and she also spent some time at the Sunnehanna Country Club. A photo of Earhart and her plane on the runway is included with this post. Earhart was the most famous woman in America at the time, and her appearance at the dedication was as much a highlight as was the very existence of the airport. Earhart would vanish in 1937 while trying to fly around the globe.
The airport had a grass runway and, of course, there were no jets at that time. All planes were propeller-driven and spectators who came to watch the planes noted that they generated so much dust on takeoff that it was almost impossible to see anything until they got into the air. Engines had to be started by hand crank, much like automobiles of the day.
In addition to carrying a few passengers, the airport also handled mail planes. Airplane engines were too underpowered to carry much cargo, but they were perfect for powering planes that could pick up and carry mail slightly faster than trains. If there was no mail to pick up, pilots generally just leaned out of the open cockpit and dropped the mail onto the runway as they passed.
Instruments for flying were unheard of, and most pilots flew by looking out of the open cockpit for landmarks on the ground. As you would imagine, fog or other inclement weather made this job even more difficult, and the Tribune-Democrat reported that a large arrow was painted on the roof of the Penn Traffic Building, pointing in the direction of the airport, to aid incoming pilots.
With the “new” airfield, a new form of entertainment arose, when the chief pilot for Air Service Inc. put on displays of stunt flying each evening. These shows were said to attract large crowds.
The Westmont Municipal airport operated until 1948, when a newer and more modern airport, capable of handling larger planes, was built in Richland Township.
Tomorrow: Eliza Furnace
Photo credits: Plane photo – Tribune Democrat; Amelia Earhart head shot – University of Pittsburgh
When discussions about the best athletes ever to come out of Johnstown take place, the name of Carlton Haselrig has to be included. Countless local athletes have done well in several sports, and many have gone on to play professionally. Their stories have been related here. Few, however, can begin to claim the accolades that Haselrig amassed over his too brief life. ESPN says he came out of nowhere and lived a mythological life. That may be a bit of hyperbole, but it isn’t far off.
Many people who start off in life the way Carlton did never go on to achieve much. Others work hard to overcome the obstacles that life threw at them and make something of themselves. Haselrig was one of the latter.
He was born January 22, 1966 to an alcoholic father and drug addicted mother. His mother left the family when Haselrig was only five years old. He grew to be a big kid, and he had an uncle, Bruce Haselrig, who was well known in local circles as a wrestling official. Bruce instilled a love for the sport in Carlton, coached him, and pushed him to be better than he ever thought he could be.
At Johnstown High School he gravitated to football and did well, but JHS did not have a wrestling team. Lesser motivated athletes would have given up, but there was never any discussion of that. Carlton wrestled as an independent, going undefeated in his senior season and winning the state heavyweight championship.
Not one to rest on his laurels, he went to Lock Haven University to play football. There, a knee injury before he ever played a game derailed those plans, and he enrolled at UPJ to wrestle where he came under the tutelage of the legendary Pat Pecora, the winningest coach in college wrestling history. Coach Pecora was featured here earlier. UPJ was Division II, but Pecora’s teams never backed down, and Haselrig wouldn’t either. It didn’t matter if it was Ohio Valley or Ohio State, they were just opponents to Haselrig, someone else to pin. One of his ‘victims’ was Kurt Angle, future Division I National Champion and Olympic Gold Medalist. Haselrig compiled a record of 143-2-1 in college, winning an NCAA record 122 consecutive matches. An enviable record, no doubt, but nothing like his achievements at the national level.
Haselrig won six national championships. That is not a typo. He won six: three in Division II and three more in Division I. His Division I championships embarrassed the powers that be in Division I that the NCAA instituted what became known as the Haselrig Rule, which now prohibits wrestlers from lower divisions from competing in Division I. In doing so, the NCAA unwittingly guaranteed that Haselrig will stand alone, and that no other wrestler will duplicate his record.
When he graduated from UPJ it would seem that his athletic career would have been over. Haselrig had been the 1985 Junior Greco-Roman World Champion, and the 1986 Junior Freestyle World Champion, while competing for the United States in the heavyweight division. Because he had already proven he could compete at the international level, there were some who were disappointed that he didn’t go to the Olympics, but life had other plans. The Pittsburgh Steelers drafted Haselrig in the 12th round, a long shot at best, but considering that he never played a down of college football, it was quite the honor.
When the Steelers broke camp in 1989, he was with the team. And slowly he climbed the depth chart, until he was the starting guard for the Steelers. In his third season, he was selected for the Pro Bowl. He would play four seasons with the Steelers, helping them to three AFC playoff appearances. He finished his career with the New York Jets, playing one season there.
Then, his life took a downturn. He turned to alcohol and drugs. The NFL suspended him after he violated the league’s substance abuse policy twice. His NFL career had come to an ignominious end. He would disappear for days at a time. His wife finally had had enough and left him. Then, he started fighting his demons with the strong will that had made him a Pro Bowl lineman and a champion wrestler at the highest level of competition.
He became an assistant coach for the Pittsburgh Colts, an Arena Football team in the North American Football League, then turned to mixed martial arts. He won his first two bouts by technical knockouts. He would compete in five MMA matches before retiring with a 3-2 record.
Out of athletics as a competitor, he began coaching youth sports in Johnstown. He remarried, eventually opening a taco restaurant with his wife. Unfortunately, his health deteriorated. A liver condition took its toll, and on July 22, 2020, he collapsed in his Johnstown home. He would not survive. Carlton Haselrig was laid to rest in the Westview 7 section of Grandview Cemetery.
In 1990 he was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. In 2005 the NCAA named him to its 75thAnniversary Wrestling Team, and in 2016, the National Wrestling Hall of Fame inducted him. That same year, the city of Johnstown declared January 19, 2016 as Carlton Haselrig Day. In 2018 he was featured in the National Wrestling Hall of Fame’s “Wrestling and Football Exhibit” at the NCAA Wrestling Fan Fest. In 2019, author Kevin Emily published Haselrig’s life story, “Giant Killer – the Carlton Haselrig Story.” His latest honor came shortly after his death, when the city’s Hickory Street Bridge was renamed the Carlton Lee Haselrig Bridge. The legend was gone, but his exploits will not be forgotten.
Tomorrow: The old Westmont Airport
Photo credits: wrestling and football photos – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame; Presentation photo – National Wrestling Hall of Fame
The year was 1932. The Stock Market crash of 1929 was still being felt in the form of the Great Depression. Unemployment was up, jobs were scarce, and the country was in a tailspin. It was no different in Johnstown, where unemployment hovered around 25%.
By any measure, it was a lousy time to start a business. On the other hand, the hallmark of every entrepreneur is the lack of fear of taking a chance. Why not? What is there to lose?
That was exactly the way Eugene and Bernie George felt. There weren’t any jobs around anyway, so why not create our own, was their thought. Sure, there was some anxiety. They were human, after all. Starting a business is a risk in the best of times. Doing it in the midst of the worst depression in American history … well, they preferred not to think about that.
Both brothers, but especially Bernie, loved music. Big Band music was popular, but with the Depression, who could afford to go see them? Going to see Artie Shaw, Duke Ellington, Paul Whiteman, or Glenn Miller? Not a chance. Just a few years earlier, though, Western Electric had come up with a way to produce a smoother, more natural way to play electrically recorded discs. Records, when played on this new system, no longer sounded so scratchy and tinny. Why not sell recordings, especially those of the Big Bands? After all, the Depression wouldn’t last forever, and it would give people a chance to listen to the music they loved but couldn’t afford to go see and hear in person. They opened their business on the first floor of the Glosser Brothers Department Store. Today that business is known as George’s Song Shop, selling music and records.
And to the surprise of the naysayers, the business succeeded. No, it didn’t flourish. Not at first, anyway. And then there was the matter of the 1936 flood. Undaunted, the brothers just moved the business to Locust Street, not exactly out of the flood zone. They would move it again in 1938, this time to Franklin Street.
While at the Franklin Street location, Bernie got the urge to pursue a career in music. Not selling records, but actually performing. He sold his share of the business to Eugene and moved to New York, leaving Eugene as the sole proprietor. Eugene operated the shop until 1962, when tragedy struck. On his way into work one morning, Eugene suffered a stroke. He would not survive. It fell upon his 19-year old son, John, to keep the business going.
John relocated the business once again in 1970, moving it to Main Street. After the 1977 flood, John was determined to reopen, albeit in a different location, just a block or two away on Market Street.
John still operates the business, billed as America’s Oldest Record Store. With more than 1,000,000 vinyl records (45s), more than 70,000 LPs, and 20,000 CDs, it may also be one of the largest independent stores. George’s also has 8-track tapes and cassettes. His inventory covers nearly every musical genre, and the store caters to customers from across the country. For many, they have been searching for a specific almost-impossible-to-find record or album. More often than not, they find it at George’s Song Shop, leading to George’s slogan: If We Don’t Have It, Nobody Does.
Today marks the third and final installment of Johnstown’s response to World War II. We’ll be talking about our contributions to the defense industry, bond drives, and the end of the war.
Steel mills in town, already booming, cranked up even more to support the war effort. And going to work was a lot different. Armies everywhere depend on steel for making tanks, ships, airplanes, weapons, and ammunition. Everyone on both sides knew it, and steel mills became potential targets for attack or sabotage. Workers in local mills knew they were risking their lives when they went to work. But still they went. Bethlehem Steel constructed eight observation posts throughout the sprawling plant, manned around the clock by spotters whose only job was to watch for enemy planes and warn workers if any were spotted. Even local civilians, including school children, were encouraged to study published silhouettes of the various enemy planes as they would appear overhead. Fortunately, no attacks on local sites took place.
Even non-steel manufacturing plants had their dangers. A Bethlehem steel facility just outside Coopersdale was converted to produce ammunition, and locals refer to it even today as the shell plant. There, explosive agents were poured into shell casings. Beyond the obvious danger of explosion, the ingredients were also toxic in high concentrations. Nobody thought twice about it, though, because each shell would aid in shortening the war. That made it worthwhile. Other local plants made bomb shells, some using German prisoners of war as laborers. The POWs were housed in Quonset huts set up along Goucher Street, where a Giant Eagle supermarket sits today. One source notes that the casings for the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagaski were made in Johnstown. After the war, local plants received commendations for their increased production of war materiel. One example of this was the National Radiator Company’s Johnstown facility, which increased their production of ship manifold valves from 150 a month to 2,500 a month.
Not as productive, but more as a means of releasing anger, some residents hung effigies of Nazi leader Adolf Hitler, Italian leader Benito Mussolini and Japanese emperor Hirohito. While not politically correct, there wasn’t much sentiment for cutting them down.
Money to finance the war effort was raised through bond drives. War bonds could be purchased for as little as $18.75. They matured in 10 years, at which time the government promised to pay the owner $25. For those who couldn’t afford to purchase an entire bond in one payment, 10-cent savings stamps could be purchased and placed in special stamp albums until the total reached $18.75. Schoolchildren in Johnstown, as well as those throughout the country, were encouraged to bring their dimes to school, where they could buy a stamp. Bonds in the amount of $50 and $1,000 were also available. Bond rallies, featuring celebrities or war heroes, were held across the country, and on one particular drive more than 10,000 crowded into Point Stadium. Businesses launched their own fund raisers, and the Glosser Brothers department store held such events several times a year throughout the war.
Those going to movie theaters during the war saw a newsreel before the feature film was shown. Those newsreels showed films from the fighting. Often, a second newsreel followed, this one encouraging the purchase of war bonds, or a propaganda film fanning the flames against Germany, Italy, or Japan.
As the war dragged on, local citizens followed news reports for progress. Maps showing key battles appeared in local newspapers, and the anxiety built as rumors of an invasion to bring the war to an end began to spread. Finally, D-Day arrived in June 1944. Locally, churches and synagogues opened their doors for anyone wishing to come in to pray. Many businesses closed to allow their employees to attend worship services. Few families were spared the fear that accompanied the news.
By late 1944 it was apparent that Germany was going to lose the war. Finally, on May 8, 1945, the news that everyone had been waiting for finally came. Germany had surrendered! VE Day, Victory in Europe, was here. Wild celebrations broke out across the country, including Johnstown. Spontaneous and boisterous partying erupted on the streets, snarling traffic. Nobody cared. Churches and synagogues opened again for those who wished to give thanks, or to mourn those who wouldn’t be coming home.
However, the celebrations were dampened somewhat by the realization that war in the Pacific was still going on. Japan had not surrendered. The emperor declared that Japan would never surrender, and every Japanese man, woman, and child was prepared to join the fight. The Allies made plans for an invasion of Japan, an invasion that would cost thousands of lives on both sides. Some of those lives could be young men from Johnstown, local citizens realized, and wartime restrictions continued.
Hopes were raised on July 26, 1945 when a gathering of Allied officials issued an ultimatum that history would refer to as the Potsdam Declaration: Japan must unconditionally surrender or face complete destruction. Japan never blinked. Then, on August 6, 1945, a startling announcement was made. The Allies apparently had not been bluffing. An Army Air Force bomber called the Enola Gay had dropped a nuclear bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, killing more than 100,000 people. Such a weapon had never been used before. Three days later, when Japan still refused to surrender, another B-29, the Bockscar, dropped a second bomb, this one on Nagasaki. Tens of thousands more were killed, and finally, six days later, the emperor got the message. On August 15, 1945, Japan surrendered, sparing lives in Japan as well as untold thousands of Allied lives. The war was officially over, despite sporadic skirmishes with a few fanatical enemy troops who refused to give up.
Once again, celebrations broke out in the streets of America and around the world. The troops were coming home, and Johnstown slowly returned to normal.
Tomorrow: George’s Song Shop
Photo credits: Poster – Library of Congress; others – Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
World War II was in full swing, and Johnstown was responding. Yesterday we talked about how the community responded to the death of Lt. Col. Buzz Wagner, America’s first air ace of World War II, and the way local men and women responded to the need for people to join the military. Today, we’ll discuss how those on the home front contributed by conducting air raid drills, planting victory gardens, donating scrap, and rationing. Many of you older readers may remember doing some of these things.
Air raid drills became common. When fire station and mill whistles blew, everyone knew what to do: turn off all lights, close the blackout curtains, pull down the blackout blinds, and sit quietly until an all-clear signal was sounded. Street lights and traffic signals were turned off, and everyone who happened to be outside knew to get inside as soon as possible. Anyone driving was required to pull to the side of the street or road, turn off their headlights and engines, and find shelter in the nearest building. With all lights turned off, the thinking went, enemy aircraft wouldn’t know where to drop their bombs.
Those who couldn’t serve found other ways to support the war effort. My dad didn’t pass the physical when he and his brothers went to enlist. As an alternative, he volunteered to serve as an air raid warden. He received training and was issued an official manual, along with an armband and steel helmet that looked much like the doughboy helmets worn in WW I. As a warden, his job was to patrol the neighborhood to make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to do during an air raid drill or, presumably, an actual attack. I’ve been told that air raid wardens also carried weapons but I don’t know if my dad did or not. Public service announcements on the radio issued reminders on what to do, and instructed listeners to “… obey your air raid warden.” Nobody complained about their constitutional rights being taken away.
Tin cans and tinfoil were collected and turned in for their metal content. Citizens scoured their homes for any kind of metal that could be melted down to be used in the construction of ships, planes, or tanks. Pots and pans were donated, along with metal toys and, in rural areas, farm equipment. There are even reports of people removing fenders and bumpers from their cars for the next scrap drive. Metal fences were torn down, and individual communities tried to “out-contribute” neighboring communities. Rags, clothing, linens, and curtains were donated, to be made into parachutes and uniforms. Nothing was thrown away; it probably could be used for something.
The war exaggerated the need for things like shoes, gasoline, tires, and other commodities. The military, out of necessity, had the highest priority on these items. As would be expected, shortages developed. Those on the home front were expected to sacrifice, and Johnstowners responded positively to the rationing system that was established by the government. Citizens were issued stamps which represented a specific number of points. A pound of bacon could be purchased for 30 cents plus seven points, for example. Without the proper stamps, purchases could not be made.
Early in the war, some foods were added to the list of items rationed. Sugar, coffee, meats, fats, canned fish, cheese, and canned milk were all on the list at one time or another, and classes were actually held that offered tips on how to stretch ration points. My mother told us that, in our neighborhood, and probably others as well, the neighbors would regularly get together, with everybody bringing something they could spare and tossing it into a communal dinner. She said it made for some interesting combinations, but nobody went hungry. If anyone complained, they were reminded of the reason.
There were some exceptions to the rationing rules. Most people were not permitted to buy new tires, for example, and were required to have their old tires patched or retreaded. However, doctors, nurses, fire and police personnel, buses, certain delivery trucks, and some farm tractors were exempted from the law.
To supplement rationing, many took to hunting, and Pennsylvania was second only to Michigan in the number of hunting licenses sold. Those wishing to hunt had to pay $1.50 for their license, and paying that amount when it was a gamble that ammunition would be available had to be a concern in many households. Still, the woods were busy during the war years, even without the thousands of GIs who would also have been hunting had they been home.
Americans were urged to plant victory gardens, and Johnstowners quickly took to the idea. Back yards, side yards, front yards, and even vacant lots were turned into garden plots, freeing up factory processed foods for the military. Restaurants offered meatless menus on certain days, to conserve the meat supply. Macaroni and cheese, which had come onto the market during the Depression, became a big hit, and some 50,000,000 boxes were sold during the war, because it was cheap. Shoppers could get two boxes for one ration stamp.
Despite rationing, scrap drives, and victory gardens, the need for even more materials became apparent. Newsprint was one of those items, and the Johnstown Tribune put a freeze on new subscriptions. Those wanting to subscribe to the newspaper were put on a waiting list, a condition that eased only when the demand for newsprint decreased.
Tomorrow: Johnstown and World War II – Part 3: the defense industry, bond drives, and the end of the war
Photo credits: Black and white scrap drive photo – connecticuthistory.org; others – Library of Congress
Sailors from Johnstown were at Pearl Harbor on the day the infamous Japanese attack took place. Pilot Buzz Wagner was America’s first ace of World War II. Michael Strank was one of the flag raisers on Iwo Jima. Joseph J. Moran became a hero when he stayed at his radio to send out SOS radio messages when the USS Indianapolis was sunk. Edward Silk and John Joseph Tominac were awarded Medals of Honor. All these local men did more than was expected of them during World War II. They’ve all been featured here at one time or another over the past few months. But what about the folks who remained behind? What did Johnstowners do during WW II? Did we have Rosie the Riveters? Was Johnstown ever in danger of attack? Over the next three days we’ll be looking at these and other questions about how the Johnstown area responded after Pearl Harbor was attacked.
Johnstown has always been tough. Gritty, some might say. The fact that we’re still here after all those floods and other disasters proves that. And we may have been at our best in the four years between 1941 and 1945. When word came that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor, there were very few families in Johnstown who didn’t gather around a radio to hear President Franklin D. Roosevelt declare December 7, 1941 “ … a day that will live in infamy.” When the call went out, recruiting stations across the country were swamped with patriotic Americans wanting to enlist. Johnstown was no different. Lines built up almost immediately, and some 4,400 left their homes and families to fight for freedom. Unfortunately, 863 of those Cambria Countians would not return.
One of those heroes, as noted in the opening paragraph, was Boyd “Buzz” Wagner, a subject of an earlier post. Lt. Col. Wagner had become the first air ace of World War II after shooting down eight Japanese planes. The local boy was a national hero. On November 29, 1942 however, local citizens were shocked to hear that Wagner had been killed during a training flight in Florida. It would take six weeks to find Wagner’s remains in a farm field and, when he was buried in Grandview Cemetery in January, 1943, an estimated 20,000 people came to his funeral.
As the men enlisted, gaping holes developed in the workforce. The local fire and police departments experienced manpower shortages, and even garbage collection was affected. But work needed to be done, and someone had to do it. J. Howard Miller, an artist from Pittsburgh, created a design that became the symbol for a recruiting campaign to bring women in to fill those gaps. That symbol, Rosie the Riveter, is still highly recognized today. A poster was developed showing a fictional Rosie, wearing a bandanna and flexing her bicep as part of the recruiting campaign, and she became one of the most successful recruitment tools in American history. She was the indisputable symbol of working women during the war.
Women who had never swung a hammer signed up to work in defense plants, both locally and nationwide. They welded. They cut out metal patterns. They assembled parts. And yes, they riveted. It wasn’t something they did to fill the time. It was a necessity. Women across the country, and in Johnstown, responded in droves. Between 1940 and 1945 the percentage of women in the workforce grew from 27% to nearly 37%, and by 1945 nearly one of every four married women worked outside the home. The percentage of unmarried women was even higher. Similar percentages applied to Johnstown.
In November, 2020, Congress passed the Rosie the Riveter Congressional Gold Medal Act that awarded the Congressional Gold Medal to the women “ … who joined the workforce in World War II to provide the aircraft, vehicles, weaponry, ammunition, and other materials to win the war.” It is well deserved and long overdue.
Women here and around the country did more than work in defense plants, however. By 1945 there were more than 100,000 enlistees in the Women’s Army Corps (WACs). Building on the success of the WACs, the Navy established the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) to serve as the female version of the naval reserve and provide stateside support. A line of women was reported at the local navy recruiting office in August 1942 to join the WAVES. The Coast Guard and Marines soon followed, with more than 100 women in line when the local Marine Corps office opened. More than 1,000 women signed up to be WASPs, or Women’s Airforce Service Pilots, becoming the first women to fly American military aircraft. Johnstown women were represented in all of these units.
As would be expected in a time of war, nurses also played a vital role, and the nurses of Johnstown did their part. So many signed up for the Army Nurse Corps that it created a local shortage for a while in early 1942. Some paid the ultimate price for their patriotism. At least one local woman was on board a hospital ship when Nazi bombers sank it near Italy. She was one of the lucky ones who survived.
Tomorrow: Johnstown and WW II – Part 2: air raid drills, planting victory gardens, donating scrap, and rationing
Photo credits: Nurses – American Red Cross; Rosie the Riveter photo – Library of Congress; Nurse poster – National WW II Museum; Uncle Sam poster – US Defense Dept.
We talk about professional football players here a lot. In fact, my wife gently pointed out not long ago that my posts are starting to get sports-heavy, and she’s right. But I think that’s mainly because I didn’t include sports figures at all when I first started these posts, and now I have a lot of sports figures and not as many historical sites left to talk about. At any rate, here’s another football player, but he didn’t play in the NFL. Today’s subject is Geroy Simon, one of the best players ever seen in the Canadian Football League.
Geroy was born September 11, 1975 here in Johnstown and became a standout in football, basketball, and track at Greater Johnstown High School. After watching the great Walter Peyton play, Simon decided he wanted to play professional football. His football abilities took him to the University of Maryland, where he began drawing attention in his sophomore year. That year, he returned a kickoff 94 yards for a touchdown and set an Atlantic Coast Conference record with 77 receptions for 891 yards and five touchdowns. He finished his college career at Maryland as the Terrapins’ second all-time receiver, with 185 catches for 2,059 yards and 10 touchdowns.
After graduating from Maryland, Geroy achieved his dream of becoming a professional football player when he became a member of the Pittsburgh Steelers taxi squad in 1997. In 1999, with his NFL dream shattered, he decided to try the Canadian Football League for a year or two, then return for another crack at the NFL. He ended up staying in Canada for the next 15 years.
His first CFL position was as a slotback and wide receiver for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers in 1999 and 2000, where he became a starter. He left Winnipeg after the 2000 season, joining the British Columbia Lions as a free agent. He played only sparingly in the 2001 season but became a key element for the Lions the next year, leading the team with 50 receptions for 754 yards. He also threw a pass … only one that season, but it went for a 71 yard touchdown. He would throw another touchdown pass the next season.
Simon soon became the Lions best receiver, leading the team in both yards and receptions and setting team records. By 2006 he was the top receiver in the Canadian Football League. That year he had 11 games with 100 yards or more in receptions, to tie the CFL record. He was named the CFL’s Offensive Player of the month in September and October before being named the league’s Most Valuable Player for the season. He also caught four passes for 41 yards to help British Columbia win the 2006 Grey Cup, the CFL’s version of the Super Bowl.
In 2007 he led the league once again as the top receiver, picking up 211 yards in the team’s final game of the season. The next year he became the Lions all-time leader in receiving yards and receiving touchdowns despite missing two games with injuries. In 2009, facing double coverage all season, he had his seventh consecutive 1,000-yard season. He had his eighth consecutive season the next year.
In 2011 he became the Lions’ all-time touchdown leader when he caught a touchdown pass in the final game of the season. It was his 88th touchdown for British Columbia. He also helped the Lions win the Grey Cup once again. In 2012 he became the all-time CFL leader in receiving yards. He would build on that record until he retired after the 2013 season with 16,352 yards. Only two NFL players have ever had more total yards than Simon had in the CFL: Jerry Rice and Larry Fitzgerald. That same year, in honor of the 100th Grey Cup, his likeness was featured on a Canadian postage stamp and all Grey Cup posters and promotional materials.
In January 2013, Geroy was traded to the Saskatchewan Roughriders. He showed he still could play, helping the Roughriders by catching two touchdown passes in another Grey Cup win. Along the way, he had another 1,000-yard season, despite missing the first three games due to an injury. He added to his receiving yards record, becoming the first CFL player to have 16,000 receiving yards. He also became the CFL’s all-time leader in receptions, with 1,029.
But, as happens to all athletes, time and injuries caught up with him, and before the start of the 2014 season he announced his retirement, leaving records that will likely stand for a long time. He finished as the CFL’s all-time leader in receptions and receiving yards, recording 103 touchdown catches in the process. He was on three Grey Cup championship teams, and established franchise records with British Columbia in receptions (904), receiving yards (14,756), and touchdowns (93). He was named a CFL West All-Star in 2003, 2004, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2011, and a CFL All-Star in 2003, 2004, 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2011. To top all that off, he was the CFL’s Most Valuable Player in 2006.
Following retirement he remained with the Roughriders in a front office position for a year before becoming the British Coumbia Lions’ Director for Global Scouting and a United States Regional Scout. In his first year of retirement, the Lions retired his number.
The year 2017 was bitter sweet for Geroy Simon. Tracy, his wife for 17 years and the mother of his two children, died suddenly, just weeks before he received word that he had been elected to the Canadian Football Hall of Fame. Just a year earlier he had been inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. He also is a member of the British Columbia Sports Hall of Fame.
Tomorrow: How Johnstown coped in World War II
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
In 100 years or so, historians will look back on 2020 and see just one big story: the Covid-19 pandemic. Not the election, not the postponement of the Olympics, not the wildfires in Australia and the western part of the United States … the PANDEMIC. Just the way we are looking back at 1918 today. And what was the big story from 1918 we are looking at? The PANDEMIC. Not the same one, of course, but the Spanish Flu pandemic that infected 500,000,000 people worldwide, about 1/3 of the world’s population. An estimated 50,000,000 died worldwide, and possibly double that, with about 675,000 deaths here in the United States.
Contrary to common belief, the Spanish Flu did not originate in Spain. Spain certainly had it, but no more than other countries. Why, then, was it called Spanish Flu?
When the flu outbreak began, World War I was in full swing. As with Covid-19, the flu was no respecter of where or who it attacked. Civilians got it. Soldiers got it. Government officials got it. Countries involved in the fighting were reluctant to allow their news media to report it, fearing damage to troop morale, as well as concerns about giving the opposing side the idea that their armies were being weakened by it. However, Spain was a neutral country. As such, they had no reason to hide the fact that the flu was running rampant. With the rest of the world being relatively unaware of the virus’s spread, it was assumed that Spain was the only country, or at least the first, to see the outbreak. Thus, the name Spanish flu.
With flu vaccines unheard of at that time, the virus spread quickly, and the parallels with the current pandemic are uncanny, beginning with the fact that the Spanish flu subsided temporarily after quarantines were imposed. Johnstown, with many other cities, lifted its restrictions when it appeared that the illness had passed, only to see a second wave come back with a vengeance. Does that sound familiar?
Soldiers returning from the war helped spread the virus, and Johnstown was not immune. When the second wave was at its peak, quarantines were re-implemented. By the Christmas season, Johnstown’s citizens faced limitations on how many people were allowed in stores at the same time. Shoppers were told to get out of downtown before factory and mill shift changes, to reduce the number of people riding trolleys at any given time. Businesses were closed, including saloons. Sporting events, and even entire seasons, were cancelled. Schools were closed. Funerals were allowed but only immediate family members could attend. No church services were permitted, and all public accommodations were discontinued. Johnstown was reported to be a closed city. City police patrols were used to disperse large groups of people, and those who violated quarantine restriction were arrested and fined.
Healthcare workers also got sick, and volunteers were recruited and trained to fill in for sick nurses. Substitute teachers had to be recruited to fill vacated teaching positions. Even the local draft board was affected, finding many of the draftees could not report because they were in hospitals. Fire departments had call-outs for more men. Halloween parties and parades were banned, and the local train stations, with the large crowds associated with airports today, became hotbeds for spreading the illness.
When hospitals in Pittsburgh filled, temporary hospitals were set up. While I could find no record that it happened here, there is anecdotal evidence that it did. A high school classmate of my wife, Joseph Partsch, tipped me off about a possible hospital that was set up near Ehrenfeld, and he put me in touch with Jack Bodenshatz, from Summerhall. Jack told me that his grandfather, Oliver Bodenshatz, and his grandfather’s brother Andrew, purchased a farm on a hill above Ehrenfeld from Pennsylvania Coal and Coke in 1926. Included on the 100 acres were a number of buildings, one of which was said to have been built by the coal company to be used as a hospital in 1918, although it never served that purpose. I haven’t been able to learn much more than that, and if anyone reading this is familiar with this, I would appreciate learning more about it. Thanks to Joe and Jack for bringing it to my attention.
And much like today, public pressure to lift the restrictions grew. With an election coming up in November, that pressure produced the desired result. The mayor and city council lifted the restrictions, and with colder and wetter weather following, the results were predictable. Cases increased, and Pennsylvania lost more lives than any other state, with the Johnstown area contributing greatly to that statistic. The city was experiencing 45 new cases a day, and the month of December saw 229 deaths in the city alone. By the time the virus had run its course, Johnstown would experience an estimated 600 deaths. Outlying towns fared no better, as places like Portage, Ebensburg, and Windber saw similar percentages of their populations die.
The people of 1918 in Johnstown, and around the world, did not have the advantages of the advances in medicine we have today, and control of the infection was basically limited to non-medicinal remedies. Those practices sound much like the ones we are doing today: Isolation quarantines, personal hygiene, masks, and limitations on public gatherings. Eventually the illness ran its course, but not before impacting virtually every family in the area.
Tomorrow: Geroy Simon
Photo credits: National Archives
As most of us who live in Johnstown are aware, a devastating flood hit the city on May 31, 1889. Five days later, 67-year old Clara Barton arrived with 50 doctors, nurses, and relief workers from the fledgling American Red Cross to assist in the relief effort. She had founded the American Red Cross just eight years earlier, based on the International Red Cross movement that had begun in Switzerland in 1863.
Barton was not unfamiliar with disasters; she had served as a nurse on several battlefields during the Civil War, narrowly averting personal disaster at Antietam when a stray bullet passed through her sleeve as she treated a wounded soldier, only to strike the young man in the chest, killing him instantly. She had also helped with flood relief in some smaller floods, as well as at tornado sites, famines, and even a yellow fever epidemic. She had never seen a disaster the likes of the 1889 flood, however, nor had anyone else. The challenges she and the Red Cross were about to face were unlike anything anyone had ever undertaken.
Where she set up her headquarters remains in dispute even today, some 131 years later. The popular belief is that it was at the John Ludwig House on the upper end of Main Street. The Ludwig House is under renovation at this time. Dr. Julian Hubbell, who worked with Clara, however, insisted that the first headquarters was at the Poplar Street Bridge, which no longer exists. He went on to say that the headquarters was moved about three weeks later at the request of Major General Daniel H. Hastings, who was leading the relief effort. General Hastings wanted the headquarters closer to the center of town and his own headquarters. Hubbell says that the Red Cross planned to relocate to Washington Street, across from the Western Union office, but Barton deemed the site too small, and a property on Walnut Street belonging to Judge James Potts was chosen. Whatever location she chose, she spent the next several months directing the Red Cross efforts.
General Hastings provided manpower to construct a warehouse measuring 50’ x 103’, with an addition of another 50’ added by Red Cross personnel. Over the next several weeks Barton’s American Red Cross built additional structures: the Locust St. Hotel, Kernville Hotel, Woodvale House or Red Cross Block, and an infirmary adjoining the warehouse. The Locust Street Hotel was discussed in detail in an earlier post about St. Mark’s Episcopal Church. All these structures were dismantled the next spring, with the building materials and furnishings distributed to those still in need.
Shortly after Barton’s arrival, representatives of the Associate Society of the Red Cross of Philadelphia arrived. Despite some rivalry, the two decided to join forces, with the Philadelphia group providing medical attention while Barton’s group provided food, shelter, and furniture.
Her relationship with the Philadelphians was rocky at best, and after a few confrontations, the two no longer acknowledged one another. Undaunted, Barton worked tirelessly on only a few hours sleep each night. There was no such thing as a day off. To determine needs, she and her workers conducted house by house surveys in the homes that remained standing. They did the same at the makeshift camps that arose around town. Throughout the summer and into the fall, Clara Barton and the Red Cross distributed supplies and housing materials valued at nearly $211,000, providing assistance to more than 25,000 people. The knowledge gained by the American Red Cross in Johnstown formed the basis for the relief efforts conducted by the organization at all modern-day disasters.
Clara Barton departed Johnstown on October 24, 1889, her job completed. The people of Johnstown showed their appreciation with a farewell dinner at the Morrell Institute. So many people attended the dinner that the floor reportedly cracked. She was also presented with a farewell gift, a gold pen and locket set in diamonds and amethysts. The engraving said, “To our friend in need Miss Clara Barton, from the Ladies of Johnstown Oct. 24, 1889.” When she returned to Washington, President Benjamin Harrison and Mrs. Harrison hosted a dinner party at the Willard Hotel in recognition of her work in Johnstown.
Nor was her work forgotten by the people of Johnstown after she left. In 1892 a famine struck Russia. When the Red Cross asked for financial donations to help their efforts there, Johnstowners, obviously remembering the help that had been given here, contributed $2,596.
Tomorrow: Johnstown and the 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic
Photo credits: Head shot – redcross.org; sitting portrait – National Park Service
Thirty players and one coach from the Johnstown area have made it to the major leagues. Yesterday’s post covers those players who played from 1884 to 1945. Today’s post covers everyone from our area who made it to the big time since 1945.
The local area had no major leaguers for the two years after Charlie Metro and Mel Bosser played in 1945, until Heilwood’s Al Porto was called up to the Philadelphia Phillies as a pitcher in 1948. A left hander, he faced 15 batters in three games, giving up only two singles and a walk, with no runs charged against him for a 0.00 earned run average. He never got to bat.
Another stretch of six years with no local players in the major leagues followed until Bill Tremel, from Lilly, broke the drought and made it to the Chicago Cubs in 1954. A right-handed relief pitcher, he played in 33 games that year, followed by 23 in 1955 and one in 1956. Over those 57 games he faced 388 batters and was credited with six saves. Batters collected 81 hits against him, only five of which were home runs. His three-year career record showed him with a 4-2 record and a 4.21 earned run average. He proved himself to be a decent hitter, as well, getting four hits and two bases on balls in 15 at bats, for a .267 average.
While Tremel was with the Cubs, Ernie Oravetz, from Johnstown, made it to the Washington Senators in 1955 and 1956. At 5’4” tall, he was one of the smallest players in major league history. He was featured in an earlier post, and a summary of his career shows 105 hits, including eight doubles and three triples, in 400 at bats, for a .263 batting average. The next year, 1957, saw Tom Yewcic from Conemaugh play in one game for the Detroit Tigers, grounding out in his only at bat. Yewcic was also featured in an earlier post for his athletic versatility. His game with the Tigers made him one of only a handful of people to have played in the major leagues and the National Football League.
Johnstown’s only contribution to major league coaching came in 1958, when Frank Oceak became a coach for the Pittsburgh Pirates. Oceak was not a Johnstown native, having been born in Virginia, but he moved to Johnstown later in life. He never played in the major leagues, but he did play 13 years in the minor leagues and also managed a number of minor league teams. He was a coach for the Pirates from 1958 to 1964, then spent 1965 as a coach for the Cincinnati Reds. He was then out of the major leagues from 1966 through 1969 while he was a manager in the Pirates minor league system. He returned to the Pirates as a coach from 1970 to 1972, when he retired. If you are familiar with Pirates history and look closely at those dates you will see he was with the Pirates when they won the World Series in both 1960 and 1971. He appears on nearly every film of Bill Mazeroski’s famous home run that won the 1960 World Series. As the third base coach he shows up celebrating with Maz as he rounded third on his way to home. Look for number 44 the next time you see that famous home run. Oceak died in Johnstown in 1983 and was buried in St. Joseph Cemetery.
In 1959 Steve Demeter, from Homer City, got his turn to represent the area as a major league player. He played 11 games for the Detroit Tigers that year, followed by four the next year with the Cleveland Indians. He had two hits, one of which was a double, and scored a run in 23 times to the plate, for a .087 batting average. Windber’s Frank Kostro was the next local player to play in the majors when he played for the Detroit Tigers in 1962 and 1963, the Los Angeles Angels in 1963 after a trade from Detroit, and the Minnesota Twins from 1964 through 1969. He batted 467 times in his seven-year career, collecting 114 hits (including five home runs among his 24 extra base hits) for a .244 batting average.
After 1963 it would be another 12 years before Johnstown was represented in the major leagues, and in 1975 we had two players, pitchers Gene Pentz and Pete Vuckovich. Pentz made it to the Detroit Tigers in 1975, but had the misfortune to be on the team that produced very little run support for its pitchers. The Tigers won only 57 games that year while losing 102, the fifth poorest record in team history. Despite posting an impressive 3.20 earned run average in 13 games, he registered an 0-4 won-lost record. During the off season he was traded to the Houston Astros, who were better, but still only mediocre. Pentz played three seasons there, with the best team record being 81-81 in 1977. Pentz’s four-year career saw him post an 8-9 record, with a cumulative 3.63 earned run average. Vuckovich, who has also been featured here, came up the same year as Pentz, playing two years for the Chicago White Sox, one with the Toronto Blue jays, three with the St. Louis Cardinals, and five with the Milwaukee Brewers. He compiled a 93-69 record, with a 3.66 earned run average. His best year, 1982, saw him win 18 games while losing only six, winning the Cy Young Award as the top pitcher in the American League.
Another player from Windber, Dave Geisel, pitched for the Chicago Cubs from 1978 to 1981, the Toronto Blue Jays from 1982 to 1983, and the Seattle Mariners in 1984 and 1985, compiling a 5-5 record and a 4.01 earned run average. Primarily a relief pitcher, he did start eight times in the 131 games in which he appeared. He was credited with eight saves. Geisel was followed two years later by Joe Klink, from Johnstown, who pitched in 1987 for the Minnesota Twins, 1990 and 1991 for the Oakland Athletics, 1993 for the Florida Marlins, and in 1996 for the Seattle Mariners. A left-handed relief pitcher, he appeared in 176 games in his career, winning 10 and losing 6, with three saves. He faced 726 batters and gave up only 10 home runs in 164-2/3 innings, or only one home run every game and a half. He compiled a 4.26 earned run average. In that nine-year stretch he only batted twice, with no hits.
Craig Grebek was born in Johnstown but living in California when he became a major leaguer in 1990 with the Chicago White Sox, where he played for six years, followed by a one-year stint with the Florida Marlins, another year with the Anaheim Angels, three years with the Toronto Blue Jays, and his last year, 2001, with the Boston Red Sox. Grebek’s 12-year career saw him hit .261, with 518 hits in 1,988 times at the plate. His hit total included 116 doubles, eight triples, and 19 home runs. He also was walked 230 times and was hit by a pitch on 19 occasions. While with the White Sox, he played with Frank Thomas, who carried the nickname ‘Big Hurt’ for his hitting ability. Grebeck gained the nickname ‘Little Hurt’ as a show of respect. His first home run came off the great Nolan Ryan, who showed his appreciation by plunking Grebek and breaking his rib the next time the two faced each other.
Bedford’s Keith Williams reached the major leagues in 1996 at age 24, as an outfielder with the San Francisco Giants. He played in nine games, with a .250 batting average on five singles in 20 plate appearances. Mike Ryan, from nearby Indiana, broke into the majors with the Minnesota Twins, playing from 2002 to 2005. He returned to the major leagues in 2010 with the Los Angeles Angels. In 149 games he batted 299 times, with 77 hits, for a career .258 average. Of those 77 hits, 26 were for extra bases, including seven home runs. As an outfielder, he only had one error in his five years, for an impressive .992 fielding average.
Since Mike Ryan left the Angels in 2010, the Johnstown area has not had a player in the major leagues.
Tomorrow: Clara Barton
Photo credits: Library of Congress
Over the past several months I’ve included posts about four major league players with roots in Johnstown: Tom Yewcic, Rip Collins, Ernie Oravetz, and Pete Vuckovich. Those posts made me wonder how many players Johnstown and the surrounding area have sent to the major leagues, and I was surprised to see that at least 30 major league players and one coach came from the Johnstown area. Some of these had impressive careers, but most played only one season, or maybe only a few games, fitting the proverbial “up for a cup of coffee” description. But they all made it, and they were officially major leaguers. How many of us can say that? Because of the number of players to make it to the major leagues, this will be presented in two separate posts. You may also enjoy some of the team nicknames.
The first one I could find was a player named Jones (first name unknown), who was born in Johnstown and played in 1884, just the 15th year for major league baseball. He played four games with the original Washington Nationals, getting five hits in 17 at bats for a .294 batting average. The next Johnstowner to make it to the majors was Ed ‘Jumbo’ Cartwright, who played in 1890 for the St. Louis Browns, then again from 1894 through 1897 with the Washington Senators. There is no record of where he was from 1891 to 1893, although he was probably in the minor leagues. He accumulated a lifetime batting average in the major leagues of .295, with 24 home runs.
Jack Darragh, of Ebensburg, played in 1891, beginning his career a year after Cartwright. Darragh only played one game with the Louisville Colonels, getting a single in two at bats. Frank West was the next Johnstown native to play, getting in one game with the Boston Beaneaters in 1894. He did not get a hit in his only at bat, but he did score a run. He was not walked or hit by a pitch, so he must have reached base on an error. Frank Gatins of Johnstown was the next to reach the big time, playing in 1894 with the Washington Senators and batting .224 in 17 games. Frank was out of the majors for the next two years, but returned in 1901 to play for the Brooklyn Superbas, raising his batting average to .228 in 50 games. The Superbas had previously been called the Bridegrooms and the Grooms before becoming the Superbas, and later became the Robins and the Trolley Dodgers. You may have guessed that this is the team known as the Dodgers today.
Alex Beam, from Johnstown, was the last local player to play in the major leagues in the 1800s, playing in two games for the Pittsburgh Alleghenys in 1889 and getting a double in six times at bat, for a .167 batting average. The Alleghenys became the Pirates in 1891. Hughie Tate was next. Born in Everett, Tate also played for the Washington Senators. He got into four games in 1905 and had four hits in 13 trips to the plate, for a .308 average. One of his hits was a triple. A neighbor of Tates, Sam Fletcher from nearby Bedford, played for the Superbas in 1909 as a pitcher. In that season he went 0-1 with an earned run average of 8.00. He also went 0 for 3 as a batter. Those numbers may explain why he didn’t stay in the major leagues, although he did return in 1912 with the Cincinnati Reds, playing two games with an 0-0 pitching record but batting 2 for 4 in those two games, for a .500 batting average. As some of you may know, the Reds were called the Redstockings until sometime in the 1890s.
In 1912 another area player, Berlin’s Frank Nicholson, pitched in two games with the Philadelphia Phillies, with no decisions and a 6.85 earned run average. He never got to bat, so he must have been a relief pitcher, with four innings to his credit. In those four innings he gave up 8 hits, including 1 home run. The tenth local player to make it to the majors was another player from Everett, Earl Howard. Howard pitched in one game with the St. Louis Cardinals, pitching 2 innings. He gave up no hits, had no strikeouts, and walked two batters. With no runs given up, he had an 0.00 earned run average. He never had a chance to show his hitting skills.
In 1921, Frank Brazill, from Spangler, played in 66 games for the Philadelphia Athletics, hitting .271. He returned the next year for 6 games, seeing his batting average drop to .077. For his 72 game career with the Athletics he accumulated 49 hits in 190 plate appearances, including 3 doubles and a triple, for a lifetime batting average of .258. John Churry was next. Born in Johnstown, Curry played in 6 games with the Chicago Cubs in 1924, 3 more in 1925, another 2 in 1926, and finally, 1 game in 1927. His lifetime batting average of .278 came from 5 hits in 18 at bats, one of those hits being a double.
James ‘Ripper Collins, aka ‘Rip’, was born in Altoona and raised in Nanty Glo. He was featured in an earlier post, so I am only going to summarize his career with the Cardinals, Cubs, and Pirates. Playing from 1931 to 1941, he compiled a lifetime batting average of .296, with 1,121 hits. Of those, 205 were doubles, 65 were triples, and 135 were home runs. He was named to the All-Star team in every league he ever played in. Windber’s Frank Trechock followed, making it to the Washington Senators in 1937. He went 2 for 4 in his only major league game, for a .500 lifetime batting average. Both hits were singles.
Bill Burgo from Johnstown and Charlie Metro from Nanty Glo both made it to the major leagues in 1943. Burgo played in a total of 44 games for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1943 and 1944, just missing the coveted .300 batting average that all players strive for. He had 47 hits in 158 at bats, for a .297 lifetime batting average. Among his 47 hits were six doubles, two triples, and two home runs. Metro played three seasons in the majors, with the Detroit Tigers (44 games in 1943 and 38 in 1944) and with the Athletics (24 games in 1944 and 65 in 1945). In his 171 games he batted 358 times, getting 69 hits, for a .193 batting average. Fifteen of his hits (ten doubles, two triples, and three home runs) were for extra bases.
Johnstown’s Mel Bosser also played in 1945, reaching the Cincinnati Reds at the age of 31. He appeared as a right handed pitcher in seven games and getting the win in two of them, with no charged loses. His 2-0 record included two starts and a respectable 3.38 earned run average in a total of 16 innings pitched. He only allowed nine hits but appeared to have some control problems, giving up 17 walks in his 16 innings. He had no hits in his four trips to the plate.
Tomorrow: Johnstown and the Major Leagues – 1945 to present
Photo credits: Library of Congress
Today’s post is the third and final installment related to the Windber Historic District, with the first detailing how Windber Borough came to be, and the second discussing the Berwind-White Coal Company, the company behind the founding and development of Windber. Today we will be talking about the friction that developed between the company and the miners, leading to some serious labor unrest in Windber in the early 1900s.
As we discussed in earlier posts, the Berwind-White Coal Company controlled Windber, and because most of those who lived in Windber worked for Berwind-White, the company also controlled its employees. With the company being anti-union, the workers had little to say about their working conditions. Inevitably, though, the workers found ways to fight back.
Initially, most of the effort to challenge the company and its policies originated in the churches and fraternal organizations. Clandestine meetings took place in which gripes were aired, and feelings aroused. The company, while not privy to the details of what was happening, knew enough through its spy system to recognize the potential threats to its authority, and took steps to limit the independence of these organizations. Clergy who didn’t support the company from the pulpit faced dismissal. All properties, originally owned by Berwind-White, contained restrictions in the deeds when they were sold. These restrictions were designed to prevent union meetings and similar activity. Large charitable contributions led to favors being returned, and most organizations, including the churches and fraternal groups, saw their boards top heavy with company officials who saw to it that the company’s best interests were not ignored.
As would be expected, friction built up between the company and the workers, and in 1906 the workers saw their opportunity to fight back. In April of that year, the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) sponsored a national coal strike. Despite not being members of the union, 3,000 of the 5,000 miners in Windber joined in. Their grievances included the company’s refusal to recognize the union; their refusal to employ checkweighmen to verify how much tonnage was produced (which determined how much the miners were paid); pay for deadwork, such as shoring up mine roofs; and an eight-hour work day. Berwind-White’s attempts to quiet the discontent with a general wage increase failed, after which the company fought back by bringing in private detectives and extra police. Court injunctions followed, and when they did nothing but fan the flames, striking miners were evicted from their homes, which of course, were rented from the company.
On April 16, 1906 everything fell apart. A peaceful demonstration was in progress outside the jail when nervous sheriff’s deputies opened fire on the crowd, killing five and wounding anther 17. One of the dead was a five-year old boy who was watching the demonstration. Dubbed the “Windber Massacre,” the incident resulted in a mounted contingent of state police coming in to maintain the peace. Workers, likely with a great deal of spousal influence, lost their enthusiasm for the strike, and returned to work. Ringleaders, as well as some of the more vocal supporters for the strike, were fired. Others were blacklisted. Feelings were not helped when the UMWA settled its national strike without including anything for the Berwind-White workers.
For 16 years, little changed in the Berwind-White mines. Then, in 1922, the UMWA waged another national strike. Five days after the UMWA walked out, nearly every mine in Somerset County was shut down when the workers joined in. Berwind-White mines were completely shut down, and the 1906 grievances were brought out once again. This time, however, the miners added one more: a demand that a 40% wage reduction that had been imposed a year earlier be rescinded. The company agreed to rescind the wage cut, but stood their ground on everything else. The miners responded by organizing three UMWA locals, the first in Windber’s history.
Predictably, this was followed by firings and evictions, affecting thousands of people. Strikebreakers were brought in to re-open the mines, protected by extra police. Court injunctions limited the workers’ ability to picket. The company store suspended credit and demanded immediate settling of any open accounts. Workers who had been evicted were taken into homes that were owned by other workers, and tent colonies were set up outside some of the mines. The UMWA assisted the non-union workers by renting any available space that could house a worker, including chicken coops and barns. Despite all this, many workers spent the winter of 1922-23 living outside.
When the national strike was settled in August, the Windber miners found themselves excluded once again and remained on strike for another 12 months. The union would not be a factor in the Windber mines until 1933 when the National Industrial Recovery Act and the New Deal restored prosperity to the American workplace.
Tomorrow: Johnstown and the Major Leagues
Photo credit: Explore Pa History
If you recall, Windber got its start as a company town for the Berwind-White Coal Company, serving as the headquarters town for the company. To recap just a bit, the Wilmore Coal Company, a subsidiary of Berwind-White, purchased about 30,000 acres of land that was rich with coal in 1892. To get the coal to market, Berwind-White built a rail line to the Pennsylvania Railroad’s branch at St. Michael to facilitate the shipping of the mined product. This enabled Berwind-White to become a behemoth among area coal companies. From 1911 to 1914 some 90% of the company’s coal came from its mines in the Windber area.
The company was fiercely anti-union, and did everything in its power to maintain control over the workers. Basically, anything a worker needed or wanted would be provided by the company. You want to buy something? Sure, go to the company store and we’ll put it on your tab. And don’t try to shop somewhere else just because you don’t like our prices. We have spies that will report back where you went and what you purchased. The next morning you’ll find a duplicate order of what you just bought. It will be sitting on your porch, and it will come from the company store where you should have bought it in the first place. Don’t worry about paying for it now. We know you just spent a large chunk of your pay on what you just bought, and you can’t afford to pay twice. We’ll just charge your account and take it out of your next paycheck. Don’t even think of doing that again, either, or you won’t have a job.
Workers lived in company houses (shown in an attached photo), banked with the company bank, and got their utilities from the only ones in town: the ones owned by Berwind-White. The town newspaper belonged to the company. Politically, all the town’s important positions were held by company officials. Outside merchants wishing to take advantage of Windber’s boom times were welcomed by the company, despite being competitors with the company store. However, they had to pay a pretty high rent to the company to set up shop in one of the company-owned buildings. When an independent business association formed, it was quickly suppressed by the company.
For entertainment, workers often took their families on a picnic. Of course, it was usually in the company park. Who could afford a horseless carriage to go anyplace else? The new Arcadia Theater was nice. We discussed that here not long ago, and it had good acts. Naturally, it was built and operated by the company. A large clubhouse was also built to house and entertain visiting executives from throughout the corporation. A photo accompanies this post.
Despite all this, Berwind-White was considered one of the better places to work. It could afford modern, mechanized equipment that other companies couldn’t, taking some of the hard labor away from the workers. An immigrant who just came to America and spoke no English didn’t need a lot of experience to operate such modern machinery.
To keep the workers happy, the company also sponsored theatrical, athletic, and recreational events. We already mentioned the Arcadia Theater, and Windber Hospital took care of their medical needs. Despite this, there was friction between the workers and the company. Inevitably, it came to a head in 1906 when the workers walked out on strike. The strike was repeated a few years later. Both will be the topic of tomorrow’s post.
The second strike coincided with an end to the boom times for not only Berwind-White, but also the coal industry in general. Overproduction, competition from alternate fuels, and depletion of the coal resulted in mine closures nationwide, and Berwind-White was no different. The company began selling off its holdings in Pennsylvania and West Virginia, opting to branch out into other ventures, such as health care products, real estate, and other areas. This, of course, reduced the importance of Windber, and ultimately led to a reduction in the prosperity the town had enjoyed.
In 1950 the company began a selloff of its company houses and other properties, and by 1960 nearly all the housing had been purchased by private individuals. Berwind-White closed its last mine in the Windber area in 1962.
Tomorrow: Labor Unrest in Windber
Photo credits: Clubhouse – the Windber Project; miners – IUP; headquarters building and company house – Library of Congress
Today’s posting will be the last one until after the first of the new year, to enable me to relax and enjoy the holiday season with my family. I will be periodically checking in, however, to respond to comments and questions. Meanwhile, wear your masks, socially distance, and wash your hands (a lot) so we all can pick up around January 2 where we left off after today. Stay healthy, my friends, and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
Some of you may recall that, back in October, I posted about Johnstown’s five national historic districts. I did one a day for five days. However, those are not the only national historic districts in our area. There are several more, and today’s post features one of them: the Windber National Historic District, which includes not only Windber Borough, but also the boroughs of Paint and Scalp Level.
This district lies just south of Johnstown in the three towns laid out by Berwind-White Coal Mining Company in 1897 and developed by the company over the next 33 years. The area’s name, Windber, is actually a takeoff from the name Berwind. It is significant because, despite flood damage and the inevitable remodeling, the district retains the look and feel of its original intent, the home for thousands of coal miners and the headquarters of Berwind-White’s most important mining operations. On the highest ground at the north-center portion of the district, an area known as The Hill, sit the former homes of company officials and other professionals. Several of those luxurious homes remain and look much as they did in the early 1900s. South, along Windber’s main streets, were the company headquarters, the railroad and a railroad station, a company store, and commercial and financial buildings. The lower terrainalso housed the company housing, where the miners lived.
Many of the buildings remain but serve different functions today. Berwind-White’s former headquarters, for example, now houses Windber’s municipal offices. The old company store, known to many as the Eureka Department Store, now houses discount stores and specialty shops. The store didn’t always look the way it does now. Built in 1899, it originally was red brick, with a hipped roof. The familiar stucco and English Tudor accents didn’t appear until the period between 1916 and 1924. The old Windber Trust Bank, although now under a different name, still houses a financial institution, a branch of AmeriServ.
Other company-era buildings have been similarly repurposed. The old Leister House Hotel is now the Windber Hotel, the old train station is now the town library, and a business office now occupies the old streetcar station. The Arcadia Theater, written about here just a few days ago, remains as the sole survivor among four theaters that stood along a two-block stretch of Graham Avenue. Buildings that once served as ethnic shops or grocery stores now are used as residences. The town’s largest structure, the old 45-room McNeal Mansion, built in 1909, remains at Cambia Avenue and 13th Street.
The old Windber Hospital has grown and is now the Chan Soon-Shiong Medical Center at Windber, owned by billionaire Doctor Patrick Soon-Shiong. Associated with the medical center are the renowned Joyce Murtha Breast Care Center, the Chan Soon-Shiong Institute of Molecular Medicine, and the Windber Hospice.
Windber’s development began in 1892 when the Wilmore Coal Company, a Berwind-White subsidiary, purchased 30,000 acres of coal-rich property. With the terrain being so hilly and steep, moving the mined coal out of the area was a problem until Berwind-White, with assistance from the Pennsylvania Railroad, built a rail line to St. Michael, where it linked with the PRR’s system. This enabled Berwind-White to open its first coal mine in the Windber area. By 1910 there were 12 more. To oversee this operation, Berwind-White designed the headquarters town of Windber.
Central European immigrants flocked to Windber to work in the mines, and by 1910 nearly 70% of the town’s population was either foreign born or of foreign parentage. Four ethnic groups predominated: Slovaks, Italians, Magyars, and Poles, although there were as many as 25 different ethnic derivations in the immediate Windber area. The miners lived in company houses, shopped at the company store, banked at the company bank, and … well, you get the picture.
Much like the neighborhoods in Johnstown, Windber’s immigrants mingled with their own ethnic group, and neighborhoods became segregated by national origin. A “Little Italy” developed between 21st and 23rd Streets, while the Swedes lived in an area whose official name became, and still is, Stockholm Avenue. The churches and social clubs reflected the nationalities of the neighborhoods. Traditions were maintained through fraternal organizations, which developed into de facto insurance providers. The same organizations became underground union halls, to challenge company controls.
Today, Windber and its environs are no longer a center of coal mining operations. While a few small mines exist, Windber now houses light manufacturing and health-related businesses, and it serves as a bedroom community for those working in Johnstown. The Windber area was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1991.
Next (in January 2021): the Berwind-White Coal Company
Photo credits: Windber Borough
George Henry Ramer was born in Meyersdale to Harry W. and Maude Pearly (Shannon) Ramer on March 27, 1927. Baby George had an older sister, Ethel, also. After he attended elementary school in Salisbury, the family moved to Lewisburg, where George graduated from high school in 1944. Two months after his graduation, he enlisted in the navy, serving until June 5, 1946.
After being discharged he returned to Lewisburg and entered Bucknell University. While still in college he signed up for the Marine Corps Reserve Platoon Leader’s program in Quantico, Virginia, where he completed his summer training courses. In 1950 he received a commission in the Marine Corps Reserve and graduated from Bucknell, almost simultaneously. He also married Jeanne G. Reighley, making 1950 a banner year for him. That fall he began teaching civics, history, and problems of democracy at his high school alma mater. Life was good.
Then, with only one semester of teaching under his belt, he volunteered for active duty. The conflict in Korea was escalating, and George reasoned that he could always come back and teach, but he had talents and training that could be of immediate help to his country. Once again, he found himself at Quantico, where he competed the Basic Course. In May 1951 he deployed to Korea as 2ndLt. George Ramer. He arrived just in time to see action in the Chinese Communist Spring Offensive. A few months later he was a part of the United Nations Summer-Fall Offensive.
On September 12, 1951, as leader of the Third Platoon of Company I, Third Battalion, Seventh Marines, First Marine Division (Reinforced), Ramer was given orders to attack and seize hostile positions at the top of an unnamed hill in what would become known as the Battle od the Punchbowl. Those positions were known to hold well-entrenched forces well-armed with mortars and machine guns. Without hesitation, Ramer led his men up the hill’s steep slopes. As they advanced, one man after another fell, until most of the platoon, including Ramer, were either dead or wounded.
Ignoring his wound, Ramer continued to lead the assault with those who could still fight. Near the summit the advance slowed, as the enemy began throwing hand grenades, in addition to their devastating fire. Nearing the top, Ramer personally wiped out an enemy bunker with his carbine and a hand grenade of his own. With only eight men still able to fight, Ramer reached his objective.
Immediately, the enemy launched a counterattack with overwhelming numbers. Ramer saw that he would not be able to hold his position, and he ordered his men to withdraw. As they did, Ramer remained behind to provide them with covering fire. Fighting singlehandedly against his attackers, he shouted to his men to evacuate three others of his platoon who had been fatally wounded. In the fight, he was seriously wounded a second time.
After successfully withdrawing with the dead and wounded, those of his platoon who were still able to fight returned to provide support for Ramer. When they reached him, he refused aid and ordered his men to seek shelter. He continued to hold his position, fighting courageously, until he was overrun and mortally wounded.
When the battle had concluded, his body was retrieved and returned to the United States where, in December 1951 he was laid to rest in Lewisburg Cemetery. On January 7, 1953 his widow was presented with his Medal of Honor by Secretary of the Navy Daniel Kimball in Washington. He was the 27thmarine to receive the Medal of Honor for gallantry in the Korean War.
In addition to his Medal of Honor, Ramer received the Purple Heart, the Korean Service Medal with two bronze stars, and the United Nations Service Medal. In 1963, a combat conditioning facility was opened at the Basic School in Quantico. That building was named Ramer Hall in his honor.
Tomorrow – To be determined
Photo Credit – Find-A-Grave
When a new baby boy is born, proud family members often say he looks like he’s going to be a professional football player. As we know, that rarely pans out. On December 23, 1948, however, a baby was born in Johnstown who really did become a pro football player, and a good one. No, not a good one, a great one. That baby was Jack Ham, considered by many as one of the greatest outside linebackers to ever play.
Ham attended Bishop McCort High School, then continued his education at Massanutten Military Academy in Woodstock, Virginia for a post-graduate season before attending Penn State. There, he became a three-year starter while assaulting the PSU record books. As a sophomore he blocked three punts, a university record that stood until 1989. Named team co-captain as a senior in 1970, he responded by amassing 91 tackles and four interceptions, and was named an All-American. Over his college career he had 251 career tackles, with 143 of them unassisted.
In the 1971 NFL draft he was selected in the second round by the Pittsburgh Steelers. Remarkably, he was passed over 33 times before being selected, mainly because he was considered undersized, despite standing 6’1” and weighing 225 pounds. He rewarded the Steelers by not only making the team, but also by becoming the starting left linebacker. Against the New York Giants in the final game of his rookie season, he had three interceptions.
Coach Chuck Noll and teammate Andy Russell both agreed that Ham was the fastest player on the team for the first 10 yards, including the running backs and wide receivers. Known as a hard hitter, he was rarely out of position and was considered one of the most intelligent players to ever play his position. A fan favorite, he acquired the nickname “Dobre Shunka,” Polish for “good ham.”
In his 12-year NFL career his statistics are so exceptional that some who have never seen him play may be tempted to believe they are fabricated. Not so. For the doubters among you, they are easily confirmed. For starters, he was a consensus All=American in 1970. He is also a four-time Super Bowl Champion. He was named to eight Pro-Bowl teams; he was named an All-Pro eight times, six as a first-team selection, two more as second-team; he was named the NFL Defensive Player of the Year in 1975; and he was selected to the NFL 75th Anniversary All-Time Team, the NFL 100th Anniversary All-Time Team, and the NFL 1970s All-Decade Team, the only defensive player to be a unanimous selection.
All these accolades came about as a result of the numbers he compiled over his career: 25 sacks, 21 fumbles recovered, and 32 interceptions. His 32 interceptions place him third among all linebackers, and his 53 takeaways (fumbles recovered plus interceptions) are the most in NFL history for a linebacker. You won’t see his sack totals in the official statistics, however, because the league did not begin keeping track of sacks until 1982, his last year as a player. Officially, he is credited with only three sacks. In 1974, he intercepted a pass and returned it to the Oakland Raiders nine-yard line to set up the Steelers’ go-ahead touchdown in the AFC championship game, leading to their first Super Bowl victory a few weeks later.
After retiring from football he became a color commentator for radio broadcasts of NFL games. Currently he serves as analyst for the Penn State Radio Network. He also is often a guest analyst for the Westwood One radio network. Locally, he is part owner of the Johnstown Tomahawks hockey team. Although not known as a hockey player, the team honored him with a bobblehead night in 2013, with fans being given an official Jack Ham bobblehead, shown wearing a Tomahawks sweater.
Jack Ham was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 1973, the National Polish-American Sports Hall of Fame in 1987, the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1988, and the College Football Hall of Fame in 1990. In 2014, in Big Ten Network fan voting, Ham was named to the “Mt. Rushmore of Penn State Football.” Not enough for you? Well, consider this, then: In 2019 the Penn State Alumni Association newsletter ranked him the greatest athlete to ever play any sport at PSU.
Tomorrow: George Henry Ramer
Photo credits: Player photo – Pittsburgh Steelers; Tomahawks photo – Tribune-Democrat
The temperature was already starting to climb by mid-morning, August 12, 1916, as the Dishong-Riblett family gathered in Central Park. It was going to be a hot one, and they all looked forward to the reunion scheduled at Woodland Park, near Ebensburg. Others had gathered for the Burkhart Sunday School picnic at Mundy’s Corner. Maybe it would be cooler at those places. Every so often someone would crane his or her neck to see if the Electric Pullman car was coming. The Southern Cambria Railway officials said they would be adding an extra car today to accommodate the expected crowd, so there should be plenty of room for everyone.
Some sat on park benches, others on the picnic baskets that carried the meals they would consume later in the day. Many had never ridden on the railway line between Johnstown and Ebensburg, completed four years earlier. They looked forward to the ride as much as they anticipated the camaraderie.
Soon, Car 104 appeared, looking much like today’s trollies, resplendent in its Pullman green paint highlighted by gold lettering and brass trim. The crowd filed on, greeted by motorman Taylor Thomas and conductor George Morgart. Those who had never ridden the line gaped in astonishment. “This must be how the other half lives,” many commented. Mahogany interior, electric ceiling lights, bronze racks for the picnic baskets … all the trimmings.
After passing the Gautier wireworks on Railroad Street the car made a turn and began the uphill climb to Ebensburg. Through Woodvale, then Conemaugh, Brookdale, and the big trestle across the Conemaugh River. Here the terrain began to roll, with Car 104 chugging uphill for a while, then braking as it went downhill, but not slowing so much that the momentum for the next hill would be lost. At the Brookdale siding, where all the line’s cars came together to allow passengers to transfer to either Ebensburg, South Fork, or Johnstown, tragedy waited.
Meanwhile, Car 102, with motorman Angus Varner and conductor Andrew McDevitt, had just left the Vinco Road stop on its way south from Ebensburg to Johnstown. Between Vinco Road and Brookdale, Car 102 began to experience braking problems. McDevitt joined Varner to assist in cranking up the hand brake, but their combined effort snapped something in the ratchet mechanism. Instead of slowing, the car’s speed increased as it began to careen downhill, now out of control.
McDevitt began moving passengers to the rear of the car while Varner desperately tried to reverse the car’s motors. The move temporarily helped slow the car, but then the main fuse blew from the strain, allowing the car to resume its downhill dash. Entering the Brookdale siding, Varner tried to sound the car’s air whistle as a warning, but all the air had bled out of the brake line and no sound could be heard from the whistle. Varner frantically waved his arms as those waiting to board the next cars gazed and wondered what was happening. An employee named Nichols raced to the powerhouse to shut off the power to the overhead line, but even the fastest runner in the world would not have had time to accomplish that.
Just below the Brookdale carbarn, Car 102 slammed violently into Car 104 at an estimated speed of 35-40 miles per hour, with the impact area of each car exploding into wooden shrapnel. Picnic baskets, those fancy new seats, and passengers were thrown in all directions. Bodies were crushed, limbs were amputated, and screams punctuated the air.
Residents of the small nearby village of Echo had heard the crash and raced to the scene. Employees from the carbarn and powerhouse, as well as passengers waiting for other cars, did likewise. Calls went out through local telephone operators as rescuers feverishly tried to pull the injured from the wreckage as the smashed cars dangled above the Conemaugh River. The oppressive heat of the day made the job all that more difficult.
Already on the siding, Car 103 and express Car 301, along with horseless carriages and delivery wagons, were used to haul the injured to a triage site hastily set up at the American House, a local hotel near the Gautier mill. Doctors and nurses sent the injured to various hospitals, depending on the severity of their injuries.
Twenty-eight were killed that day, including motorman Varner from Car 102, the only fatality on that car. On Car 104, conductor Morgart survived, but motorman Thomas did not. On Car 102, Conductor McDevitt was credited with saving the lives of the passengers by moving them all to the car’s rear before the impact. About 80 from the two cars were badly injured.
For the next several weeks, newspapers around the country carried stories from the scene. Burials were conducted daily, with 10 members of the Dishong family buried at the same time at one funeral. Cars 102 and 104 were rebuilt, but horseless carriages were replacing the need for interurban railways, and manufacturing of new cars ended just a few years later.
The Southern Cambria Railway, with one of the worst safety records in the industry, became known as the “Dread of the Timid Traveler.” They continued to operate for 12 more years before closing abruptly and without notice in 1928, just weeks before a bond payment came due for reimbursement to the accident victims.
Tomorrow: Jack Ham
Photo credit: Daily American
On December 15, 1943 Peter and Helen (Chupko) Duranko became the proud parents of a baby boy. That boy would join a family that included seven girls and two boys, in addition to the baby, who was named Peter Nicholas. Peter Nicholas Duranko, better known as Pete, and even better known as Diesel, was destined to become one more in a long line of professional athletes from Johnstown.
Pete attended Johnstown Catholic High School, now Bishop McCort, graduating in 1962. While in high school he was an outstanding football player. He was also a good shot putter, but it was on the gridiron that he earned his fame. That nickname, Diesel, came from his bruising running style, a style that got him named to the 1961 All-State team, a berth in the prestigious Big 33 game, and a scholarship to Notre Dame.
At Notre Dame, Duranko began as a backup fullback, gaining 93 yards on 26 attempts in 1963. He was moved to linebacker the next season, playing only one game before an injury sidelined him for the rest of the season. In 1965 he played at his third position in three years when he moved to the defensive line. There, he found his niche. In his first year as a defensive lineman Duranko registered 95 tackle, second on the team. Fourteen of those tackles came in one game, against North Carolina. The next year he added 73 more tackles to his total.
Diesel played in the famous “game of the century” in 1966, playing against Jeff Richardson from Michigan State. Richardson, who was featured not long ago on another post, was a Johnstown High School graduate and the two had already been opponents on the high school level. In that game, the Fighting Irish were ranked Number 1 in the country, with Michigan State Number 2. The game had a controversial ending when Notre Dame opted to run out the clock with the score tied at 10-10, when they only needed a field goal to win. Notre dame coach Ara Parseghian later defended the move, saying he didn’t want to risk a fumble or interception to get into field goal range because he knew a tie game would not hurt the Irish’s ranking. His strategy paid off as Notre Dame was named National Champion in several polls. Duranko was named an All-American by the Associated Press, United Press International, and the American Football Coaches Association, and played in the College All-Star Game in Chicago.
That same year he became a fourth round draft pick of the Cleveland Browns in the National Football League and a second round draft pick for the Denver Broncos in the American Football League. Cleveland was coming off an 11-3 season in 1965 while Denver had gone 4-10, and the NFL was the more prestigious league. Duranko surprised many when he decided to accept a contract with Denver. He would go on to play for Denver for nine seasons. Denver would become a member of the NFL in 1970, giving Duranko his chance to play in both leagues.
Following his playing career, Duranko attended St. Francis University, earning a Master’s Degree in Industrial Relations. He accepted a position as personnel director for ABEX and First Mississippi Steel Company in Hollsopple. He also served as an assistant coach for the old Johnstown Jackals, an indoor football team.
Over his career with the Broncos he played in 98 games on the defensive line, 76 of them as a starter. At that position he suffered countless blows to the head, in addition to those suffered in high school and college. Eventually those blows to the head took their toll, and in 2000 he was diagnosed with amyotropic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig Disease.
Choosing to fight the fatal disease the same way he went head to head with opposing linemen, Diesel became a national inspiration. News story after news story described how he was dealing with his illness, and his story became one of inspiration to others. Despite his own pain, and knowing he was dying, he made it his mission to speak to as many other terminally ill patients as possible. Those who knew him suffered with him.
On July 8, 2011, after fighting ALS for 11 years, Pete “Diesel” Duranko lost his battle, passing away while in the care of Windber Hospice. A post-mortem examination of his brain confirmed that he had Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), a progressive degenerative disease of the brain found in people with a history of repetitive brain trauma, such as professional football players. More than 100 former players in the NFL have been found to have been affected by CTE.
Duranko was laid to rest on July 13, 2011 in Mausoleum 4 at Grandview Cemetery. Before he died, however, he was honored with induction into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 1973 and the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame in 2006.
Tomorrow: Southern Cambria Railway Accident
Photo credit: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
About 100 years ago, officials of the Windber Lumber Company, a subsidiary of the Berwind White Coal Mining Company, discussed ways to bring entertainment to the people of Windber. The prevailing opinion was that the community could use a theater, believing that vaudeville acts and cinema productions would come in if there was a quality facility to attract them. A group of stockholders, donating their own money, formed the Windber Theater Corporation and hired Philadelphia architects Henry Reinhold and Ralph L. Land to design the new facility. It would be named the Arcadia.
On May 5, 1921 the new theater opened to rave reviews. The Arcadia Theater was an instant hit, and it was destined to become one of the most significant entertainment opportunities the company would provide for its employees.
The Arcadia joined a long list of similar endeavors around the country, proving not only entertainment for those who lived in the communities that housed such theaters, but also providing a starting point for entertainers hoping to make it big. Soon, the shows got better and better, as more highly regarded vaudeville acts learned of the Arcadia. Song and dance teams, vaudeville comedians, and dialect acts that featured comedic routines based on the dialects of various ethnic groups, such as the Irish, Italians, Germans, and Jews all drew full-house crowds to the 600-seat theater. Minstrel shows were big favorites until they fell out of favor. The Arcadia wasn’t the Palace Theater in New York, but it wasn’t small potatoes, either.
Eventually, as vaudeville faded from the entertainment scene and silent movies gave way to “talkies,” the theater fell on hard times. The theater installed sound equipment but could not keep up with the competition, and in 1963 the theater was sold and renamed Cinema 56, for nearby Route 56 that passed just outside of the town. Cinema 56 became a perfect illustration for how far the once proud theater had fallen, when the new format featured adult movies.
Cinema 56 operated until 1975, when it appeared to have closed for good. However, just two years later the Penn Wood Players saw the shuttered facility’s potential, and they made plans to make the old auditorium its new headquarters. Then, as so often happens in Johnstown, another devastating flood hit. The theater suffered such heavy damage that it was deemed impractical to salvage, and it was closed again.
For 12 years the theater languished, becoming an eyesore on busy Graham Avenue. Then, in 1989, the Eureka Coal Heritage Foundation purchased the building, with a plan to restore the once grand old lady back to what it once had been. Using old photos as a guide, and drawing on the memories of those who remembered its earlier grandeur, the effort to make the Arcadia look like it did in 1921 began.
The “new” Arcadia reopened on October 31, 1998 with the production of the “Best of Broadway.” Those older patrons who remembered what the Arcadia had looked like in its heyday were amazed at the quality and accuracy of the renovations. It was once again ready for live performances.
Today the Arcadia does exactly that. On the same stage where struggling vaudevillians hoped to start their climb to success, the theater once again houses quality entertainment. Florence Henderson, the Mantovani Orchestra, The Lettermen, Gary Burgoff, The Platters, Pat Boone, The Osmonds, Al Martino, The 5th Dimension, and the U.S. Marine Corp Band have all performed here. Computers now control the light and sound systems, but otherwise, not much has changed in the way of quality entertainment.
The theater has expanded to include a children’s series, exposing younger crowds to live theater, and the Arcadia has become a mecca for tribute bands and their followers. Performances are sold out more often than not, so if you plan to attend a show after things get back to normal and social distancing is a thing of the past, you will need to get your tickets early.
Tomorrow: Pete Duranko
Photo credits: Exterior – Eureka Coal Heritage Foundation; Interior – Arcadia Theater
Peter Dennis Vuckovich was born October 27, 1952 to Serbian parents Lazo (Louie) and Bosiljka (Americanized to Betty) here in Johnstown. He was the only boy in the family of five children. At birth, Pete had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck but had no long-term effects from the potentially fatal condition. His brushes with death did not end there, however. He had appendicitis that led to peritonitis at the age of 18 months, followed by the removal of a benign tumor from his head just a year later. His childhood was relatively uneventful then, until he had to have emergency surgery for complications from his earlier appendicitis. At the age of 21, while driving at more than 100 miles per hour, he rolled his car several times over an 80-foot embankment, somehow coming out unscathed. Not long after, he cheated death once more when a 15,000-volt reactor he was working on shorted out. He later said he “would have been fried if he had been six inches closer.”
Pete attended schools in the Conemaugh Valley School District, and in high school he was an excellent athlete, playing football and baseball. He was good enough at football that he received a number of scholarship offers from major colleges, including Navy, Pitt, and Michigan State, among others. However, he turned them all down in favor of attending Clarion State College with a goal of becoming a teacher. His reason for attending Clarion? His girlfriend (and later his wife), Anna Kuzak, was going there.
Vuckovich played baseball at Clarion. A hard throwing right-handed pitcher, he also filled in at several other positions. It was as a pitcher, however, that he excelled, being named All-Conference in 1972, 1973, and 1974, playing in the Pennsylvania State Athletics Conference. He was named an NAIA All-American in 1974. He also played for Johnstown in the AAABA Tournament in four consecutive years, the first local player to achieve that status.
In 1974 he was selected in the third round of the major league draft by the Chicago White Sox, who sent him to play at Appleton, Wisconsin in the Class A Midwest League. Before the season was over, Vuckovich was promoted to Knoxville in the Class AA Southern League. The next season, 1975, he played at Denver in the AAA American Association, where he compiled an 11-4 record with a 4.34 earned run average.
In August, with less than two full seasons of minor league experience, he was called up to the major leagues to fill in for injured Terry Forster. He made his major league debut on August 3, 1975 at age 22 against the Minnesota Twins. He stuck with the major league team until the American Association’s championship series was about to begin. Vuckovich told White sox manager Chuck Tanner that he wanted to be sent back down to Denver so he could help them win the championship. The surprised Tanner agreed and sent him back to the minor leagues. When Denver lost the series in six games, Vuckovich was called back up to Chicago, appearing in two more games before the season ended.
Between the 1975 and 1976 season, Pete and Ana got married. They would have three sons, one of whom, Pete, Jr., was also drafted by the White Sox in 2004. Unfortunately, his career was cut short by injuries.
Over the winter of 1975-76 Vuckovich played winter ball for Ponce Leones in Puerto Rico. He returned to the White Sox for the 1976 season where, against his wishes, he was made a relief pitcher instead of a starter. At the end of that season the American League expanded to Seattle and Toronto, and Vuckovich was selected by Toronto in the expansion draft. He made the Toronto record book by recording the franchise’s first save and the first shutout two months later. In December, after only one season with Toronto, he was traded to St. Louis.
Over the next nine seasons he would play for St. Louis and Milwaukee, having his best season with the Brewers in 1982, when he won 18 games and lost only 6, with a 3.34 earned run average. His season was capped off by winning the Cy Young Award as the American League’s best pitcher, getting 14 first place votes out of the 28 votes cast. He had come in fourth in the voting the year before.
Vuckovich gained a well-earned reputation for being a fun guy in the majors, as well as being a bit looney. He belly-flopped through puddles during rain delays and hung an “Out to Lunch” sign on his locker. He wore a Fu Manchu moustache and kept his hair unruly, and on the mound, he often crossed his eyes as he stared at his catcher for the sign for the next pitch. While holding a runner on base he would twitch his head rapidly as if fighting a violent tic, and he sometimes wore two different brands of shoes on the mound, with a Puma on one foot and an Adidas on the other. But what appeared to be eccentricity was actually all planned, knowing that the batter would be focused on his behavior rather than on what pitch was coming. He used it to his advantage.
The years of throwing 150 or more pitches in a game took a toll, however, and his last two or three years were marked by stints on injured reserve for rotator cuff surgery, shoulder bone spur surgery, and surgery to remove calcium deposits from his shoulder. Often he pitched while in pain, sometimes receiving a cortisone shot to reduce inflammation. His last game as a major league pitcher came on October 2, 1986 against the Detroit Tigers. The following season he retired at the end of spring training.
His 11-year major league record was 93-69 in 286 games pitched. He compiled a highly respectable lifetime earned run average of 3.44, with 186 saves. He appeared in four games in the 1981 and 1982 American League Championships Series, and in two more games in the 1982 World Series, where Milwaukee lost to St. Louis in seven games. Among his other accomplishments are finishing in the Top 10 twice in strikeouts, finishing seventh in 1979 and tenth in 1980; seventh in complete games in 1980, with seven; fourth in 1980 with three shutouts; sixth in the National League in 1978 with only 0.408 home runs per nine inning game and seventh in the American League with 0.563 home runs per nine innings.
In retirement he tended bar in Milwaukee for a while at a bar he owned. He did some color commentary for the Brewers, then spent several years with the Pirates in various roles, with one of those roles being pitching coach. In 2012 he took on the position of special assistant with Seattle, then became a scout for the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2015. He also became involved in community affairs, and one of his favorite jobs was as an actor in the film Major League, when he played Clu Haywood.
Vuckovich is a member of the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, Clarion University Sports Hall of Fame, AAABA Hall of Fame, Western Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame, and the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame. In addition, Conemaugh Valley High School’s baseball field is named in his honor.
Tomorrow: Arcadia Theater
Photo credits: St. Louis Cardinal photo – Wikipedia; other photos – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
On June 2, 1889, before the flood waters had receded, Clara Barton arrived in Johnstown and set up temporary hospitals to treat the sick and injured. When more space was needed, she relocated to the 8th Ward, the current site of Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center. Known as the Conemaugh Valley Hospital, it was intended to serve as a memorial to the victims of the 1889 flood and was officially incorporated December 2, 1889. On November 8, 1889 the land on which Barton’s hospital sat was purchased for $5,800 by a local group wishing to construct a permanent facility. The money came from donations from around the world. That state-of-the-art hospital was completed in 1892, at which time the name was changed to Conemaugh Valley Memorial Hospital. The original hospital contained 60 beds in one main building with two wings.
Recognizing that no hospital could function properly without a staff of well-trained nurses, the hospital established the Conemaugh Valley Memorial Hospital School of Nursing in 1896. Another school of nursing was operated by the City Hospital of Johnstown, and the two merged in 1920. Four years later a residence hall for student nurses was built across the street from the hospital. When the United States entered WW II, the hospital opted into the United States Cadet Nurse Program, a program supervised by the United States Public Health Service. This federal program was instituted to ensure an adequate supply of skilled nurses when they were needed most, and CVMH was recognized for doing its patriotic duty. Over the years, the nurses’ training program has expanded to include psychiatric nursing and tuberculosis nursing, as well courses in physical, biological, and social sciences.
Meanwhile, the first medical training program for physicians began in 1915, with three interns training for one year. Since that austere beginning, the residence programs have expanded considerably. A five-year program in General Residency began in 1961, and a three-year Family Medicine Residency started in 1971. It was one of the first such programs in the country. An American Osteopathic Association (AOA) Residency started in 1988, and in 2002 the hospital launched a PharmD program resulting in a Doctor of Pharmacy degree. An Internal Medicine Residency program began a year later, with an Emergency Medicine Residency starting in 2008. In 2012 a Pre-Doctoral Psychology Internship program was established. The medical center is also the home of the Neonatal Regional Intensive Care Nursery and the only Level 1 Trauma Center between Pittsburgh and Harrisburg.
In recent years Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center, with 545 in-patient beds, has acquired Lee Hospital (314 beds) and Good Samaritan Medical Center (179 beds), making them satellite hospitals of the main campus. In addition, Select Specialty Hospital of Johnstown (39 beds), an award-winning acute care hospital serving 10 counties, is housed on the Lee Campus. The medical center is also the parent corporation for Conemaugh Meyersdale Medical Center, Conemaugh Miners Medical Center, Conemaugh Nason Medical Center, and the Conemaugh Physician Group. On September 1, 2014, Conemaugh Health System was acquired by Duke LifePoint Healthcare, a joint venture between Duke University Health System and LifePoint Hospitals.
Memorial’s main campus in the 8thward has grown considerably from that 1 building, 60-bed facility in 1892. Sprawling over several square blocks, themedical center is now the largest healthcare provider in west central Pennsylvania, serving over a half-million patients each year through the Conemaugh Physician Group and Medical Staff, their hospital network, specialty clinics, outpatient centers, and patient focused programs. Conemaugh Health System employs over 3,000 clinical and non-clinical staff, and over 450 physicians.
Tomorrow: Pete Vuckovich
Photo credits: Drone views – Memorial Medical Center; street view – Tribune-Democrat
If you look for area residents who have earned the Medal of Honor, you will not see the name of John Dutko, even though he was born and raised in Indiana County. The Medal of Honor that John was awarded was credited to Riverside Township, New Jersey, where he apparently was living, even though his service records indicate that he entered the service in Harrisburg. Wherever the Medal is credited, nothing can take away from the courage John showed in World War II.
John was born October 24, 1916 in Dilltown to John David and Anna (Cilip) Dutko. He was an only child, and little is known of his childhood or why he entered the army in Harrisburg or lived in New Jersey. Before entering the service, he married Ethel M. Costello. The couple had one child, a daughter.
On February 21, 1941, just 10 months before the attack on Pearl Harbor, John enlisted as a private. His service records show that he had only a grammar school education and that he had been employed as a farm hand before enlisting. He was assigned to Company A, 1stBattalion, 30th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division.
On May 23, 1944 Dutko, now a private first class, was engaged in battle near Ponte Rotto, Italy. He had taken cover in an enemy trench when the artillery fire became too intense to proceed. After several minutes with no sign that the barrage would be ending any time soon, he left the cover of the trench and began a one-man assault on three machine guns and an 88 mm mobile gun. All four guns turned their fire onto Dutko, the only American soldier advancing toward them.
Dutko ran 100 yards through the area that was constantly being impacted by the artillery shells, then ducked into a shell crater. After catching his breath and calming himself, he left the protection of the crater and raced toward the closest machine gun, with bullets kicking up the dirt around his feet. Reaching a point that was less than 30 yards from the gun, he threw a hand grenade and killed both gunners, all while artillery rounds were dropping within a few yards.
At that same time, he was struck by bullets from the second machine gun, knocking him down. He regained his feet and rushed toward the 88 mm gun, firing his Browning automatic rifle from his hip as he ran. He got within 10 yards of the gun and fired one long burst from his BAR, killing the entire five-man crew.
He then turned his attention to the gun that had wounded him. Another long burst from his BAR killed both the gunner and his assistant. Now Dutko was within 20 yards of the third, and only remaining, machine gun, which wounded him once more as he advanced. The effect of his wounds prevented him from running at full speed, and he limped toward the third gun as fast as he could. Refusing to quit, he mustered the strength to fire one more burst, killing the crew just as he reached the gun.
When the fighting ended, American soldiers seeking out wounded for treatment found Dutko’s lifeless body sprawled across the bodies of the German machine gun crew. Like so many other heroes, he had given everything he had to give. He was awarded a posthumous promotion to first sergeant.
Dutko’s remans were brought back to the United States, and he was buried at the age of 27 in Beverly National Cemetery in Beverly, New Jersey. Five months later, on October 5, 1944, the War Department issued General Orders No. 80, awarding Dutko with the nation’s highest award for valor, the Medal of Honor.
Tomorrow: Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center
Photo credits: Black and White photo – Hall of Valor Project; Color photo – Find-a-Grave
The Johnstown Symphony Orchestra was founded in January 1929 under the baton of Hans Roemer, who conducted the orchestra until 1932. Since 1932 the orchestra has had 12 additional conductors: Silvio Landino (1932-1935), Theodore Koerner (1935-1944), Russell Gerhart (1944-1951), Manfred Kuttner (1951-1955), Donald Johanos (1955-1956), David McNaughton (1956-1958), Manfred Kuttner again (1958-1961), Phillip Spurgeon (1961-1969), Michael Semanitzky (1969-1973), Donald Barra (1973-1983), Istvan Jaray (1983-2015), and James Blachly, who took over in 2016 and remains as maestro.
Blachly is also music director of the Experiential Orchestra in New York, and the Geneva Light Opera. He was recently nominated for a Grammy Award for his recording of Dame Ethel Smyth’s “The Prison” with the Experiential Orchestra. He will not know if he won until the January 31 awards ceremony. Smyth composed the piece in 1930 but it had never been recorded. The piece had its American premiere in 2018 by the Johnstown Symphony. After its debut in Johnstown, Blachly’s Experiential Orchestra recorded it, and it was this recording that got Blachly his nomination.
Blachly has become known for his innovative and non-traditional performances. Here in Johnstown he has directed the orchestra in a former steel mill to a sold out audience. That performance caught the eye of noted television journalist Katie Couric, who featured the concert on her show, “America Inside Out.” With the Experiential Orchestra he has been known to encourage the audience to dance. At New York’s renowned Lincoln Center, he has invited audience members to sit with the orchestra. If you thought all symphony concerts had to be stuffy and formal, you haven’t been to a Blachly concert.
The Johnstown Symphony appears on a list of 12 notable symphonies in Pennsylvania. The others are the Allentown Symphony, Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, Erie Philharmonic, Harrisburg Symphony, Lancaster Symphony, Old York Road Symphony, Orchestra 2001, Philadelphia Orchestra, Philadelphia Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra, Philly Pops, and the Pittsburgh Symphony. There are several other symphony orchestras in Pennsylvania that do not appear on this list, an indicator of how well respected the local orchestra is. The orchestra calls the concert hall at the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center on the UPJ campus its home. The concert season runs from November through the following March or April.
The symphony travels to local high schools to present concerts, and sponsors the Symphony Chorus, Johnstown Youth Orchestra, and Inclined to Sing. All these groups have one goal in mind: to expose local music lovers with good music. If they can have some fun along the way, why not? A highlight of the year, both for audiences and the orchestra members, is the annual Independence Day Concert, usually held outdoors at the Point Stadium. Playing to an audience of several thousand, it is the largest concert of the year. In 2020, however, the corona virus had other ideas. Undaunted, five musicians from the JSO’s brass section gathered with Blachly at The Mound, a park at the top of the Inclined Plane. There, they presented a virtual concert that was streamed into living rooms throughout the area via the JSO website and Facebook Live.
Another heralded innovation that has brought the symphony exposure to local music lovers is its Music Heals series. This program encourages members of the public to share their own personal playlists with the JSO digital community and beyond. Curated by Blachly, Music Heals has been recognized nationally by the League of American Orchestras.
Since 1992 the symphony has brought opera to Johnstown with its annual Opera Festival, featuring the Symphony Chorus and four internationally recognized soloists in what has become the symphony’s largest fund raiser. From classical to Broadway tunes to movie theme songs, to opera, the Johnstown Symphony does it all, and does it well.
Tomorrow: John Dutko, war hero
Photo credits: Johnstown Symphony Orchestra
If you had mentioned the name Jeff Richardson in the halls of Johnstown High School in the early 1960’s, every student and faculty member would have known who you were talking about. Born September 1, 1944, Jeff Richardson was one of the top high school athletes at that time, not only at JHS but in the entire area. He was a standout in football, wrestling, and track, earning accolades in all three sports.
In his junior year he was undefeated in 22 wrestling matches, winning the state championship. His overall record as a wrestler was 52-3. The all-around athlete received a scholarship to Michigan State, where he played on the defensive line for Coach Duffy Daugherty, who was featured in an earlier post.
At MSU, Richardson was part of two national championship teams, in 1965 and 1966. In the 1966 game between second-ranked Michigan State and top-ranked Notre Dame, a game labeled the “Game of the Century,” Richardson gained recognition for making 16 tackles, including a touchdown-saving tackle. That tackle also saved the game and a share of the national championship, with the game ending in a 10-10 tie. Across the line, playing for the Fighting Irish, was another Johnstowner, Bishop McCort’s Pete Duranko. Duranko went on to play for the Denver Broncos and will be the subject of a future post.
As a wrestler at Michigan State, Richardson won the Big 10 heavyweight conference championship, and in 1966 and 1967 he was named an All-American. His senior year, 1966- 1967, proved to be a good one for Richardson. In addition to his selection as an All-American wrestler and playing on the national championship football team, he was selected in the American Football League draft by the New York Jets in the sixth round, and 146th overall.
With the Jets, he was switched to the offensive line, playing two seasons. One of those seasons gained him more recognition, when he played in the Super Bowl. The American Football League and the National Football League had recently announced plans to merge, and for only the third time, an AFL team was playing a long-established NFL team, this time the Baltimore Colts. Although it would be referred to as Super Bowl III, it was the first such game to use the new ‘Super Bowl’ name. Ironically, the Jets have never again made it to the Super Bowl.
As game-day approached, the sports world was stunned when the brash quarterback for the Jets, Joe Namath, appeared at the Miami Touchdown Club and personally guaranteed a Jets victory. The Colts were 18-point favorites, and the AFL was generally looked upon as a much weaker league. This contention had been supported by the first two meetings of the AFL champions and the NFL champions. The NFL teams had won both of those games handily. Sports writers around the country brushed off the ‘guarantee’ by the kid from Beaver Falls as hype, but it made for a good story, so it took hold. A few days later, the Jets were Super Bowl Champions after making good on Namath’s guarantee by a 16-7 score. Jeff Richardson played a role in that game, and it got him a Super Bowl ring.
In 1969 Richardson’s contract was picked up by the Miami Dolphins, where he returned to the defensive line. He finished the season playing for the Jersey Jays in the Continental Football League, a short lived professional league that had been founded as an alternative to the NFL. He was set to play the 1970 season with the Jays when the league folded and his career came to an end.
Jeff Richardson retired to Stroudsburg, PA. In 1981 Richardson was named to the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. He received a similar honor in 2009, when he was inducted into the Pennsylvania Wrestling Coaches Hall of Fame.
Tomorrow: Johnstown Symphony
Photo credits: portrait – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame; full body – Michigan State University
A few days ago I posted about the Southern Alleghenies Museum of Art, recognizing it as a major contributor to the local arts scene. Today’s posting will discuss another local cultural treasure, the Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company.
The Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company, or the BOB as it is affectionately known, began in the early 1990s when husband and wife Brad and Laura Gordon were taking a casual walk through Stackhouse Park with their dogs. Taking a break in a natural amphitheater, the two relaxed and took in the scenery as they listened to the sound of the nearby rippling stream. As they sat there, it dawned on them that the setting was a perfect place to put on a play.
At approximately the same time, Laura received a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities to study with the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford, England, as well as the famed Folger Library in Washington. On her return to Johnstown, she and Brad decided to follow through on their earlier vision, and they produced a Scottish play with the Penn Wood Players.
On the success of that endeavor, the Gordons decided to branch out on their own, and in 1991 they formed the Stackhouse Park Players. While there was an entertainment aspect to their efforts, they also wanted to educate both the performers and the audience in the nuances of classical theater. Since then, they have performed Shakespearean drama to thousands of satisfied spectators throughout western Pennsylvania. The name of the troupe became Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company in 2002.
While they center their performances in the natural beauty of the same amphitheater that spawned the Gordon’s idea, the BOB also produces performances in the months of the year when it isn’t feasible to perform in an outdoor setting. And they no longer go it alone, often collaborating with the Johnstown Concert Ballet, Out of His Mind Dance, UPJ, Penn Highlands Community College, and local high schools on various projects.
The BOB uses only local performers, and about 800 of them have graced the stage over the years. Some have gone on to perform professionally in movies and commercials. Another, who started with the BOB at the age of 12, went on to work for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. Some of the performers have been with the company almost from the very beginning.
The BOB has performed most of Shakespeare’s plays at one time or another over the years, including appropriate music to enhance the audience’s experience. The standards are high, and audiences will marvel at the abilities of the local talent. The Shakespeare Theater Association has recognized the troupe as one of the top 150 companies in the world, putting them on the same level as the world famous Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company.
The productions have been televised across the state through the Pennsylvania Cable Network, and you can take a look at previous plays on their website. Some of their productions are classic Shakespeare with a modern twist, a format that has proven very popular with local audiences.
If you’ve never been to one of the BOB’s productions of one of Shakespeare’s plays, you’re missing out. You don’t have to be a fan of the bard, or even like classical theater. Maybe you barely suffered through your high school classes, drawing on the CliffsNotes version, or even Classic Comics, to write your report. (By the way, your teacher knew you did that.) This group is nothing like you will remember from high school. Just bring a blanket or a lawn chair, your picnic basket, and an open mind to Stackhouse some pleasant summer evening and enjoy the park and the performance. The talent, the costumes, and the setting are enough to make you a believer, and who knows? You may even find that you like Shakespeare.
As far back as the Civil War, Johnstown has produced more than its share of war heroes. I’ve already posted about the exploits of many of them. Today I want to bring some recognition to another one, 1st Lieutenant Paul Clawson.
Paul Eugene Clawson was born May 9, 1926 to Axel and Helen (George) Clawson in Johnstown. He had one older sister, Helen. The family lived in Ferndale, at 512 Glenwood Avenue. Eager to do his part during World War II, he enlisted on April 21, 1944 while still in high school. He was two weeks shy of his 18thbirthday. He went on active duty on August 14, 1944 and remained stationed in the United States until November 14 of the following year, when he was sent to Europe, where he served until March 2, 1946. Returning home, he remained in the army until March 26, 1947, when he was separated from military service at Fort Dix, New Jersey.
Paul returned home to domestic life, enjoying being a civilian again. Then, just three years later, world tensions boiled over once again. At the end of WW II, Korea had been separated into two occupation zones, divided at the 38thparallel. The Soviet Union administered everything north of the 38th parallel while the United States did the same in the southern portion of the country. The two zones became sovereign states in 1948, with the north becoming a socialist state, and the south becoming capitalist. Both governments claimed to be the only legitimate governing body for the entire country.
On June 25, 1950 the Korean People’s Army, the army of the northern zone, crossed the 38th parallel and pushed deeper into the southern portion, a move that the United Nations classified as an invasion. The UN Security Council called for military forces from representative nations to send troops to repel it, with the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China, both of which supported the North Koreans, refusing to recognize the UN resolution. The United States mobilized troops as part of the UN forces.
On November 1, 1950, Paul reenlisted. As a 1st lieutenant in Company F, 2nd Battalion, 35th Infantry Regiment, 25th Infantry Division, he was sent to Korea. This time, he would not return home.
On May 9, 1951, he celebrated his 25th birthday in a foxhole in Korea. Twelve days later, on May 21, F Company received orders to take Hill 329, a hill that would acquire an ominous new name that day: Skeleton Hill. The nickname was given for good reason.
As artillery fire rained down, Clawson was directed to take his 1st platoon and move up the ridge on his right until they met resistance. The 3rd platoon would do the same on the left. It wasn’t long before Clawson and his men met that resistance. The slope was muddy and slippery with mud from an earlier rainfall, making the progress even slower. The 1st platoon soon found itself pinned down by small-arms and automatic weapons fire. Clawson immediately recognized that they could not remain where they were, and he moved to the front of his platoon and rallied his men.
He led a massed assault on the entrenched enemy, racing toward his objective at the top of the hill. When a group of three enemy soldiers held up their advance, Clawson killed them all, then called for his men to follow him once again. As the attack moved on, Clawson saw one of his men fall wounded. He immediately ran through the intense enemy fire and carried the man to safety. He then picked up the wounded man’s weapon and resumed leading the assault until he was killed by a burst of machine gun fire. His men continued the assault without him, inspired by his leadership and sacrifice, and the hill was taken shortly later.
On August 11, 1951, under Eighth Army General Orders No. 630, Paul was awarded the nation’s second highest honor, the Distinguished Service Cross. His men insisted that he deserved the Medal of Honor. On October 29, 1951, war hero 1st Lt. Paul E. Clawson was laid to rest in Grandview Cemetery’s Cambria 7 section.
Tomorrow: Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company
Photo credits: 38th Parallel photo – NDSU Institute
Leonard Roy Chappell was born on Jan. 31, 1941, in Portage, where he would practice shooting a basketball on an old hoop hanging on the family barn. Following graduation from Portage High School, where he was an all-state basketball player, he went on to play for three seasons at Wake Forest University.
Standing 6’-8” tall and weighing 240 pounds, Chappell became a standout scorer and rebounder, leading the Demon Deacons to two N.C.A.A. championship tournament appearances, including a berth in the Final Four in 1962. In that tournament Wake Forest lost to Ohio State, which featured the tandem of John Havlicek and Jerry Lucas, in the semi-finals. Wake Forest then defeated UCLA in the consolation game. That same season, Chappell became Wake Forest’s first consensus All-American after scoring 2,165 points, an average of 24.9 points a game, and pulling down 1,213 rebounds, an average of 13.9 per game. He was named first-team All-Conference in 1960, 1961, and 1962, and as the Atlantic Coast Conference’s player of the year in both 1961 and 1962. He held the ACC Tournament scoring record from 1962 to 2006, when it was broken by J. J. Reddick of Duke.
In the 1962 NBA draft, Chappell was selected by the Syracuse Nationals, the fourth player chosen overall. The selection made him the only professional athlete ever to come out of Portage High School. He played one season with Syracuse, which saw their franchise relocated to Philadelphia the next year, where they became the 76ers. Chappell only played one game for the 76es before his contract was sold to the New York Knicks. In the 1963-64 season he scored 1,349 points as the leading scorer for the Knicks, averaging more than 17 points and nine rebounds per game, his best season in his career. His efforts received much deserved recognition when he was named to the league’s All-Star game. Despite Chappell’s contributions, the Knicks lost nearly two games for every one they won, going 22-58.
After playing for the Knicks, Chappell played for the Chicago Bulls, Cincinnati Royals, Milwaukee Bucks, Detroit Pistons, Cleveland Cavaliers and Atlanta Hawks. Heplayed in the N.B.A. for nine seasons, retiring after appearing with the Dallas Chaparrals of the American Basketball Association in 1971-72. He averaged more than 9 points a game for his NBA career, scoring 5,621 points.
Chappell and his wife, Joanne, had two sons and a daughter. The sons inherited his basketball genes, with one playing college basketball at Wisconsin and the other at South Carolina. Chappell had never been a controversial player, but he flirted with danger one night when he attended the Wisconsin-Wake Forest game. In support of his son, he was decked out from head to toe in Wisconsin gear. Remember now, the game was being played in the home arena of his alma mater, and at 6’8”, he wasn’t going to blend in with the crowd, especially when he had a seat at courtside. Wearing a red Wisconsin shirt and red pants, the potential for him to be booed mercilessly by the student section was over the top. Wake Forest’s athletic department planned to introduce him when they realized he was in the arena but feared the crowd’s reaction. The introduction went on as planned, but as a show of respect, the spotlight was focused on his retired jersey which was hanging above center court. The ploy worked, and Chappell was bombarded with rousing cheers, despite his attire.
In 1965 Chappell was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, and in addition to having his number 50 retired by Wake Forest, he was inducted into the university’s Hall of Fame in 1980. In 2002 he was named to the Atlantic Coast Conference 50th Anniversary team as one of the 50 greatest players in ACC history. The Portage High School gymnasium is named in his honor.
Following Chappell’s retirement from professional basketball, he and Joanne founded Chappell Sports, a product promotion company in Wisconsin. In April, 2018, he suffered a fall at his home in Waterford, Wisconsin. Striking his head, he underwent surgery for a brain hemorrhage. The surgery could not save his life, and he had a stroke shortly after, followed by pneumonia. His athletic body could not fight off the effects, and he passed away on Thursday, July 12, 2018 at age 77 while in a hospice in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, a suburb of Milwaukee. He was brought home for burial, with his ashes being placed at rest in Mount Moriah Cemetery near Blue Knob.
Tomorrow: Southern Alleghenies Museum of Art
Photo credits: action photo – Wake Forest University; torso view – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
On May 10, 1943 an organization known as the War Memorial of Greater Johnstown received a charter to do business from the Cambria County Court of Common Pleas. The application for the charter had been signed by a representative of each of 57 separate civic organizations. Three years later, wishing to be more inclusive, the name was changed to Cambria County War Memorial Inc. In 1949 the group received permission from the court to obtain and clear land on Napoleon Street where the old Union Cemetery was located. The cemetery was prone to flooding and many of the headstones had been washed away. Once that permission was granted, the site was designated for a new arena, to be dedicated to veterans of all wars. On October 31, 1949 ground was broken.
Two Medal of Honor recipients from World War II, Capt .Edward Silk and Lt. John Tominac, both of whom were subjects of earlier posts here, were asked to place the cornerstone of the new arena. That cornerstone was placed on May 19, 1950 as part of the Armed Forces Day celebration. That same day, the Eastern Hockey League awarded Johnstown a franchise, and the arena suddenly had its first tenant.
On October 16, 1950 the arena opened to the public, and 5,000 fans filed into witness the first event ever held in what was now being called the Cambria County War Memorial Arena. That event was an Ice Capades performance. Three weeks later the Johnstown Jets played the first hockey game in the facility, a 7-5 loss to the New York Rovers. The wins became more abundant, however, and on April 24, 1952 the Jets, who had just won the Eastern Hockey League championship, defeated International League champion Toledo, 7-1, to win the Amateur Hockey Association of the United States Cup.
In 2002, the arena underwent a major renovation when the commonwealth of Pennsylvania provided $8 million. Additional funds were donated by the Tampa Bay Lightning, the parent club for the Johnstown Chiefs. The facelift for the arena included new seating, dasher boards, a new HVAC system, an elevator, and other general upgrades throughout the building.
Arguably the signature event for the arena came in 1976 when Paul Newman came to town to film the iconic move, Slapshot, with most of the hockey scenes filmed at the arena. The only possible rival to the filming of Slapshot came in 2015 when Johnstown was named the first Hockeyville USA by a national vote of fans. The arena was packed when the announcement was made on national television. The honor came with a game between the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Tampa Bay Lightning, plus thousands of dollars for arena improvements.
In addition to hockey, the arena has served as the host of political rallies, concerts featuring some of the biggest names in music, championship contests for a variety of sports, circuses, military and trade shows, ice shows, and conventions. The arena is also the home of a small Veterans’ Museum, and the concourse walls are adorned with military uniforms. Seats inside the arena are adorned with plaques containing the names of veterans from across the county. Luxury suites provide a unique seating arrangement that is available to any group wishing to reserve one.
In 2017 the arena marked two milestones. First, a new digital scoreboard was installed, and second, the arena awarded naming rights to 1st Summit Bank under a 10-year agreement. The new name became the 1st Summit Arena at Cambria County War Memorial.
Now 70 years old and still going strong, the 1stSummit Arena at Cambria County War Memorial boasts of a history that few venues in America can come close to matching.
Tomorrow: Len Chappell
James Anthony “Rip” Collins was born in Altoona on March 30, 1904 but grew up in Nanty Glo. His parents were William and Elizabeth Collins, and there were two other children in the family. Rip’s father was a coal miner who also played semi-professional baseball, and it was said that after seeing his father play, Rip vowed to become a baseball player, also. James, or Jimmy as he was known, left school at age 14 to take a job in the shipping department of a coal company, attending night school in the evenings. When he couldn’t play baseball in the winter, he practiced by throwing a ball against his basement wall.
In the summer months he was known as an outstanding sandlot baseball player, playing for a while on the same company team as his father. His nickname, Ripper, came when he hit a baseball so hard that the cover was partially torn off. Over time, Ripper was shortened to Rip.
In 1922 Rip, only 17 years old and not old enough to obtain a marriage license, eloped to Cumberland, Maryland with Helen Fasemeyer. The couple would have three children.
He got his professional start with York, a team in the Class C New York-Penn League. He also played a few games in Wilson, North Carolina in the Virginia League, working in the off-season as a coal miner after is contract with Wilson was not renewed. A lengthy coal strike in 1925 put him out of work, and needing a job, he approached the Johnstown Johnnies and asked for a tryout. He did well enough to get a contract with a $200 signing bonus. Playing with the Johnnies in the Middle Atlantic League, he became the team’s center fielder, batting .327 in 1925 and .313 in 1926, helping the team to league championships in both years. Following the 1926 season the Johnnies sold his contract to Rochester in the International League for $2,000.
In 1927 Collins played for Rochester, then was traded and bounced around several teams before returning to Rochester to play first base for the Red Wings. When he was demoted to Class B after the 1927 season after only batting .246, his father wrote to him and encouraged him to come home and go back to work in the mine. Rip refused and led the Three I League the next season with a .388 batting average. Late in the season he was recalled to Rochester, where he batted .375 in 14 games.
Playing in Rochester’s new stadium in 1929, he hit the first home run ever hit there. In 1930 he batted .376 with 40 home runs and 180 runs batted in, an International League record. A left hander who was a switch hitter, his 1930 performance in Rochester earned him recognition as the league’s outstanding player and a promotion to the major leagues in 1931, where he became the first baseman for the St. Louis Cardinals.
That team was known as the Gashouse Gang for its unkempt appearance and rough-and-tumble method of play, and Collins seemed to fit right in. He was said to lead the league in home runs and practical jokes. The name was given to the team by New York sportswriters who noted that they played the Yankees while wearing smelly uniforms that hadn’t been washed for several days because they didn’t have any extra uniforms. They didn’t improve their appearance any with their personal hygiene, either, with most of them unshaven and not concerned who was in the vicinity when they spit tobacco juice. Unwary sportswriters or opposing teams soon learned to stand upwind when talking to the Gashouse Gang.
His rookie season with the Cardinals showed he belonged in the major leagues, when he batted .333 with 35 home runs and 128 runs batted in. His 35 homers tied him with the legendary Mel Ott for the league lead. He also led the National League with a .615 slugging percentage. That same year, the Cardinals won the World Series in seven games against the Detroit Tigers, with Collins hitting for a .367 average and posting a stellar .999 fielding average. In 1932 he again led the Cardinals with 21 home runs. He showed his versatility by laying down eight sacrifice bunts, putting him into a tie with pitcher Dizzy Dean for the team lead. This marked the only time in Cardinals history that their leading home run hitter also was their best everyday player in advancing baserunners with bunts.
In 1935 Collins set a major league record by becoming the only first baseman in major league history to play a full nine innings and not record a putout. Two years later he did it again, this time with the Chicago Cubs. This not a reflection on his skills as a first baseman. It actually showed that his pitchers allowed few ground balls to infielders. He would help the Cubs win the National League pennant in 1938. He also played with the minor league Los Angeles Angels in 1939 and 1940 in the Class AAA Pacific Coast League before being called back up to the major leagues by the Pittsburgh Pirates, where he finished his major league career.
Over his career he played in 1,084 major league games, compiling 1,121 hits in 3,784 at bats for a .296 lifetime batting average. He scored 615 runs, hit 135 home runs, 205 doubles, 65 triples, and was walked 356 times. He also scored 615 runs. Known as an excellent fielder as well as being a good hitter, he recorded a .991 fielding percentage. In his nine years as a major league player he batted .300 four times and attained a .277 batting average in 13 World Series games.
Following his major league career he played in both the Pacific Coast League and the Eastern League, being named Minor League Player of the year in 1944, when he led the Eastern League with 40 doubles and a .396 batting average – at the age of 40. From 1961 to 1963 he was back in the major leagues as a member of the Chicago Cubs College of Coaches.
In 1951 he was inducted into the International League Hall of Fame. He achieved a similar honor back home in 1965 with his induction into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. He has the rare honor of being named to the all-star team in every league he played in, both in the minor leagues and the majors.
Rip Collins died on April 15, 1970 and was buried in the Mexico Village Cemetery in Oswego County, NY.
Tomorrow: War Memorial
Photo credits: portrait – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame; batting – Ron Moody and Find-a-Grave
In 1948 a new airport opened in Richland Township to serve the Johnstown area. Known at that time as the Johnstown Municipal Airport (now the John Murtha Johnstown-Cambria County Airport), it covered 650 acres and was considered the highest airport in the state, sitting at 2,284 feet in elevation. Using DC-3s, TWA carried the first passengers. A year later, TWA was replaced by All American Airways, which became Allegheny Airlines, and in 1970, Allegheny Airlines began calling itself Allegheny Commuter. In the 1990s US Airways took over the Johnstown service, providing flights until 2009. At that time US Airways found itself in financial difficulty, dropping service to Johnstown and other airports in an effort to stop the financial bleeding.
Since 2009 the airport has been served by a series of smaller airlines flying under the Essential Air Service program. Colgan Air, operating as United Airlines Express was the first, flying to Altoona and Washington-Dulles. When Cogan went bankrupt in 2012, Silver Airways took over, dropping the Altoona route and picking up Dubois. They continued the Dulles route. Silver was found to be expensive and unreliable, and Silver was replaced by Southern Airways Express, beginning in November, 2016 with flights to and from Pittsburgh and Dulles. The Dulles route was eventually changed to Baltimore-Washington, or BWI. Once again, reliability became a problem, with Southern regularly cancelling flights due to pilot or aircraft shortages. When the reliability factor adversely affected air travel to and from Johnstown, the Department of Transportation revoked the Southern contract and awarded it to Boutique Air. Boutique began serving Johnstown in November 2018 with service to and from Pittsburgh and BWI. When the new contract came up in October 2020, SkyWest Airlines became the new carrier, flying as United Express, with jet service to and from Chicago O’Hare and Washington Dulles.
In 2004 an $8,000,000 air traffic radar system was installed at the airport, operated by the Pennsylvania Air National Guard. By 2019 the air traffic had increased to more than 45,000 operations, averaging about 125 takeoffs and landings a day. Airline traffic only constituted about 11% of the activity, however, with the rest split between general aviation (47%) and military traffic (42%). There were 54 aircraft stationed at the airport: 21 single engine, four multi-engine, two jet, one helicopter, and 26 military aircraft.
Today the airport is home to several military units. The airport houses the Pennsylvania Army National Guard’s 1-104th Attack Reconnaissance Battalion and 2-104 General Support Aviation Battalion (Air Ambulance). It also houses the 258th Air Traffic Control Squadron of the Pennsylvania Air National Guard, and the Marine Wing Support Squadron 471 and Detachment A of the 4th Marine Aircraft Wing of the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve. The military units which are flying units use helicopters, rather than fixed-wing aircraft. In addition, the airport serves as a training site for military transport jets, with C-17 Globemaster jets from the 167thAirlift Wing of the West Virginia Air National Guard and the 911thAirlift Wing of the Air Force Reserve, based in Pittsburgh. And how many cities can boast of being a training site for the president’s Air Force One? Johnstown can, as Air Force One regularly practices takeoffs and landings at the local field.
How important is the airport? In addition to providing access to the outside world, airports perform a vital economic function. PennDOT does an annual assessment of the economic impact of every airport in the state. This assessment looks at airport employment and payroll, direct impact from airport-related businesses and government agencies, capital improvement projects, and spending by visitors. Of the 116 general aviation airports and 15 cities having commercial air service in 2019, the John Murtha Johnstown-Cambria County Airport ranked ninth out of the 131, with an economic impact of $195,368,000 (up from $99,515,400 in 2011) and 1,296 associated jobs. This makes it much larger and a bigger economic contributor than airports at such comparably sized cities as Altoona, Bradford, Dubois, Erie, Venango County, Lancaster, and Williamsport.
Nulton Aviation Services operates a flight school at the airport, providing two options. An Aviation Degree Program is offered in conjunction with St. Francis University, allowing students to earn a Bachelor’s Degree with a focus on aviation. A non-degree program, certified by the FAA, provides students with the opportunity to obtain a pilot’s license, or to add additional pilot ratings and certifications to their resume.
On September 11, 2001 the airport played a part in the historic terrorist attack on America. Shortly before 10:00 am that fateful morning, the control tower received a call from Cleveland Air Traffic Control reporting a suspicious aircraft flying at low altitude not far from Johnstown. The Pittsburgh office of the FBI also notifies the Johnstown office agents to immediately get to the airport. Unable to spot the plane through binoculars, the air traffic manager in the Johnstown control tower ordered all trainees and custodial staff to evacuate the tower. Shortly after, Cleveland notified the tower that the plane had been lost to radar. As we know now, that plane was United Airlines Flight 93, and it went off radar when it crashed in Shanksville. Shortly after, the FAA ordered all planes to land at the nearest airport, and the local field saw dozens of planes of all sizes set down here and remain for an extended time.
The airport has also made national news for two events above and beyond the Flight 93 tragedy or presidential visits. Shortly after 7:00 pm on January 6, 1974 Commonwealth Commuter Flight 317, operated by Air East and flying from Pittsburgh to Johnstown, was making its approach to land on Runway 33. The plane crashed just short of the runway, killing 11 passengers and the crew captain, of the 15 passengers and two crew members aboard. A twelfth passenger later died at a local hospital. Investigation revealed that the plane had descended at a very low approach speed and below the lowest safe approach slope before stalling. The plane then clipped the top of a bank of elevated approach lights and slammed into a steep embankment less than 100 yards from the runway. Following the investigation, the FAA revoked Air East’s license.
On April 16, 1984 a mysterious DC-6 landed late at night. At that time the control tower was not manned at night, and the plane slid off the end of the runway, getting stuck in the mud. A security guard called police, and when they arrived the pilot ran off. The guard said the pilot had told him that he had engine problems and had to unload the cargo. When police searched the plane they found that the cargo was nearly 10 tons of marijuana from Colombia. Police waited for someone to come to pick up the cargo, and were rewarded when a tractor-trailer carrying four men from Sacramento, California arrived. The men were placed under arrest, and five tons of the marijuana were released to the DEA for use in a sting operation. The rest was buried in an unnamed location in the Johnstown area.
Tomorrow: James “Rip” Collins
Photo credits: United jet ground photo – SkyWest; all others from John Murtha Johnstown-Cambria County Airport
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Ernest Eugene Oravetz looked like anything but an athlete. Standing 5-4” and weighing 145 pounds at his heaviest, he was also nearsighted and needed glasses. His size and the glasses made him look more like a member of the debate team than a baseball player. But Ernie, who sported the improbable nickname Moose, didn’t care. He knew he could play.
Born January 24, 1932, in Johnstown, he was a standout baseball player at Johnstown Central High School, where he was described as being an outstanding player in all phases of the game. He was an excellent hitter and fielder, and he had a strong arm. A switch hitter and a left handed fielder, he also played for the Lincoln Street Garage in the City Junior League, winning the league championship in 1950 and representing Johnstown in the AAABA Tournament. While playing in high school, he was said to often hit a baseball over the houses that sat outside the right field fence.
When he graduated from high school he didn’t see much interest from major league scouts, most likely because nobody in the major leagues wanted a 5-4”, 145 pound outfielder. Undeterred, Ernie borrowed $150 from his mother and headed off for Cocoa, Florida, where he enrolled in the Jack Rossiter Baseball School. There, he finally attracted the attention of scouts, and he signed a contract with the Washington Senators.
In 1951, at age 19, he reported to Orlando in the Class D Florida State League. He attracted a lot of attention there, hitting .364 with 29 extra base hits in 135 games, including one home run. He also scored 122 runs. His batting average led the league, and he was named to the league’s All-Star team. His performance earned him a promotion the next year to Chattanooga of the AA South Atlantic League, where he showed he was worthy of the promotion, batting .306 in 144 games.
He expected another promotion for the 1953 season, probably to a team at the AAA level, only one step below the big time. He was excited when the mail came one winter day with two letters. The first was from the Washington Senators, inviting him to come to spring training with their top players and a chance to make the American League team. His excitement was quickly dashed when he opened the second letter. It was from the Selective Service, informing him that he had been drafted. As he always said later when asked about it, “Guess which one I listened to?”
Instead of wearing the uniform of a major league baseball team, Ernie Oravetz became Private First Class Oravetz, wearing the uniform of the United States Army, and instead of throwing a baseball, he went to Korea, where he learned how to throw a hand grenade. Surviving the fighting in Korea, he returned home, mustering out of the service in 1954 after two years serving his country. He was pleased to learn that the Senators still wanted him to come to spring training, this time in 1955 instead of the original plan for 1953. Before leaving for spring training he married Rose Marie Minahan. They would be married for 51 years and have seven children.
When the Senators left spring training for the 1955 season, 23-year old Ernie Oravetz came north with them. On April 11, 1955 he fulfilled a lifelong dream, playing in his first major league game. The moment he pulled on his number 37 and stepped on the field he entered the record books, becoming the smallest player in the major leagues. He would play in the outfield at all three positions for the next two years, endearing himself to the fans as the “Little Big Man.” His last major league game came on September 30, 1956. Over his two-year career as a major leaguer, he collected 105 hits in 188 games played. He batted .270 in 1955 and .248 in 1956, for a lifetime batting average of .263, more than just respectable, particularly for an era where the pitchers threw from a mound that was 15” high and umpires looked the other way if a pitcher doctored the ball with saliva, tobacco juice, sandpaper, or anything else to gain an advantage over the hitters.
He played the next four seasons back at AAA Chattanooga, then in 1961 in Spokane in the Pacific Coast League and Syracuse in the International League; different leagues but still at the AAA level, the highest in the minor leagues. He left Syracuse in the middle of the 1962 season for Charlotte in the South Atlantic League, where he ended up his professional baseball career after the 1963 season. For his nine years playing in the minor leagues he had a .311 lifetime batting average. Combined with his two years in the major leagues, his 11-year career as a professional baseball player saw him retire with a lifetime batting average of .307.
Following his exit from professional baseball he worked for the next 30 years with the United States Postal Service. In 1975 his hometown honored him by inducting him into the Cambria Country Sports hall of Fame.
Ernie Oravetz passed away at age 74 in Tampa, Florida on December 3, 2006 of pancreatic cancer. He was buried in the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell, Florida, still holding the record for being the shortest player to ever wear the uniform of the Washington Senators.
Tomorrow: The Johnstown airport
Photo credits: Color photo – Baseball Almanac; Black and White photo – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
Deep in the woods near the village of Pavia, in Bedford County, sits a small monument. It isn’t any place where you would just stumble across it. To see it requires a drive off Route 869 by way of a narrow dirt road, so those who see it are most likely looking for it in the first place. The monument is known as the Cox Monument, or the monument to the Lost Children of the Alleghenies. As the name suggests, the monument is accompanied by a tragic story.
It was a Spring morning in 1856, April 24, to be exact. Samuel Cox had just returned to his home in an area known as Spruce Hollow. On his arrival his wife, Susanna, told him that their sons, George (age 7) and Joseph (age 5) were missing. Cox had been hunting and Mrs. Cox feared that the boys had gone to catch up with their father and had become lost in the woods.
Samuel and his wife checked the area around their cabin and found nothing. Samuel retraced his steps to the area where he had been hunting, calling as he went, but there was no response. The day drew on until, at dusk, Samuel and his wife were becoming frantic. It was getting colder as the sun went down, and the boys didn’t have any food or water with them. Worse, the area was known to be inhabited by wolves and bears. Neighbors, hunters, and trappers who had also been searching all filtered into the cabin as they returned. Several searchers went to the surrounding ridge tops and built large fires, hoping the boys would see them and come to the fires. At one point, as many as 1,000 people were looking for the lost boys. None had seen or heard anything.
The search dragged on for several days, and soon rumors began to circulate that the Cox boys had been murdered by their parents. One man, Charlie Ross, even dug up the Cox garden and floorboards, searching for clues. His search turned up nothing.
Desperation took over. A man from Morrison’s Cove arrived with dousing rods to try to locate the missing boys. A Somerset County witch offered theories that did nothing more than cause the searchers to go on one wild goose chase after another. About 12 miles from the Cox cabin, Jacob Dibert dreamed that he had been searching in an area he didn’t recognize when he came across the remains of a deer. Passing the carcass he spotted a child’s shoe before coming to a small stream known as Bob’s Creek. Using a fallen beech tree as a bridge, in his dream he crossed the stream, where he found the bodies of the boys huddled together beneath the roots of an uprooted birch tree.
In the morning, Dibert told his wife about the dream. The two decided that it was nothing but a dream, but the dream returned several nights in a row. Finally, Mrs. Dibert suggested that Jacob go see her brother, Harrison Wysong, about it. When Dibert told Wysong his dream, Wysong said it sounded like an area that he was familiar with. On May 7, 1856, the two set out on yet another search.
Before long they came upon the remains of a deer, just as Dibert had dreamed. Then they spotted a shoe, followed by a fallen birch tree that extended across the creek, similar to the tree that Dibert had used to cross the stream in his dream. Following Dibert’s recollection from the dream, they crossed the stream. There, just as Jacob Dibert had dreamed, were the bodies of the boys. It had been two weeks since they were last seen, and they appeared to have died of exposure.
When word got out that the boys had been found, church bells tolled mournfully to alert everyone in the area. The next day, May 8, 1856, the boys were buried together in Mt. Union Cemetery. Reports indicate that, despite the short notice, several thousand people came to the funeral. It was said to be the largest funeral ever conducted in that area.
In 1906, 50 years after the boys had disappeared, the nearby community of Pavia raised funds for a marker to indicate where the boys had been found. It took four years, but they finally had enough money to complete the project. That marker stands today as mute testimony to the tragedy.
Truth or mountain lore? Obviously, nobody alive today has first-hand information that would shed light on the story. The facts that are indisputable, however, are that two young boys died and were buried in Mt. Union Cemetery. Most accounts of that era also include Dibert and Whysong. Did the dream lead them to the bodies? There is no way to support or refute that, so the choice is yours.
Tomorrow: Ernie Oravetz
Photo credits: Wikipedia
The subject of today’s post, Alexander Ratiu, was suggested by Art Martynuska. I had never heard of this man until Art brought him to my attention. After reading his story I think you’ll agree that he was a man of courage, strength, and devotion to his faith. He did what many, maybe most, of us say we would do under similar circumstances, but would we? Read his story and then ask yourself if you could have done what he did.
Ratiu was born on May 2, 1916 in Scalp Level, one of four boys. His parents, Elisabeta Chindriș and Grigore Rațiu, were immigrants from Romania. When Alexander was only five years old, the family moved back to Romania, where Alexander would be raised. Following graduation from the equivalent of American high school, he attended the university at Oradea, where he studied philosophy. He then entered seminary to study theology in Blaj, Romania.
His next stop was Rome, where he attended the Pio Romano Seminary and the Pontifical Urbaniana University, receiving a doctorate in theology and being ordained a priest of the Romanian Greek Catholic Church. So far, his story sounds much like that of countless other theologians, right? Well, that is about to change.
Ratiu began serving as a volunteer for the National Peasants Party, helping to organize Romania’s general election in 1946. In May, 1947 he was arrested and placed in prison for his activities against the Romanian Communist Party. He would remain in prison until July, 1948.
Following his release, he taught at a seminary in Oradea until October 1948, when the Communist government dissolved the Greek Catholic Church, making the Romanian Orthodox Church the national religion. All churches and institutions belong to the Greek church were seized, and six bishops and numerous priests, including Ratiu, were arrested. The prisoners were tortured, some so badly that they didn’t survive, in an attempt to get them to publicly declare their allegiance to the Orthodox Church. Some did, some didn’t. Ratiu was one who refused.
His refusal led to his imprisonment in the infamous Sighet Prison. He remained a prisoner for 16 years, being shuttled from Sighet to a series of other prisons, beginning in 1955. During those 16 years he was tortured regularly, yet he refused to denounce his faith. He was thrown into solitary confinement for 18 months, brought out only for additional torture. Still, he refused. His final five years of imprisonment were in a labor camp, where in addition to being tortured, he was forced to perform hard manual labor.
Then, in 1964, the secretary general of the Romanian Communist Party declared a general amnesty for all political prisoners, including Ratiu. Not permitted to leave the country for the next six years, Ratiu lived in constant fear of being rearrested for continuing to resist the communists until, in 1970, the government finally relented and gave him permission to leave Romania. He returned to the United States in 1971, living in Illinois with one of his brothers and the brother’s family. He also met with Pope John Paul II in Rome, where he related the plight of the Greek Catholic Church in Romania.
He became a member and served on the Board of Directors of the Cardinal Josef Mindszenty Foundation for 25 years. He presented lectures, wrote four books, and worked to provide financial support for many Romanian refugees to come to the United States. Drawing on his fluency in eight languages, he celebrated mass for many immigrant groups, going so far as to learn Spanish so he could conduct services for Mexican migrant workers. In 1983 the Polish Freedom Fighters presented Ratiu with their Solidarity Freedom Award.
When the Communist government collapsed in Romania in 1996, he returned to that country where he preached to large crowds eager to hear his story.
On July 25, 2002 this humble, yet courageous, Scalp Level native died at his home in Plainfield, Illinois. He was buried in Resurrection Cemetery in Romeoville, Illinois. In the attached group photo he stands third from the right.
Tomorrow: Lost Children of the Alleghenies
Photo credits: Portrait – James Seidelman and Find-a-Grave; Group – Maria Rodica Mirghesiu and Find-a-Grave
We don’t like to think of General George Washington as ever losing a battle, but he was human, and during the French and Indian War he and General John Forbes fought the French in 1754-55 and lost. That fight saw control of the land at the confluence of the Monongahela and Allegheny Rivers in western Pennsylvania go from the British to the French. The French army would build a fort there, Fort Duquesne, which eventually became the city of Pittsburgh. In 1758 British General John Forbes was given orders to take that land, including Fort Duquesne, back.
To do that, Forbes ordered construction of a new road across Pennsylvania, complete with a series of fortifications to guard that road. The last fortification, the Post at Loyalhanna, would be just 50 miles from Fort Duquesne and provide Forbes with an excellent point from which to launch an expedition to take Fort Duquesne. The road, now called Forbes Road, would provide access for troops and supplies. But this posting is not about the Forbes Road. It is about the Post at Loyalhanna.
The Post at Loyalhanna was constructed from August to October, 1758. While it was still under construction, British troops left the Port at Loyalhanna and headed west toward Fort Duquesne. On September 15 the British plan to lure the French troops out of the fort and ambush them fell apart, and the French defenders drove the British back. Meanwhile, Forbes decided to rename the Port at Loyalhanna in honor of his commander-in-chief back in Britain. That commander was Sir John Ligonier, and the Port at Loyalhanna became known as Fort Ligonier.
On October 12, 1758, with Fort Ligonier still not completed, the French launched an attack on the fort. In a battle lasting four hours, the French were defeated. At dusk, they attempted a second attack that was beaten back by mortar fire from inside the fort. Although thwarted in their effort to take Fort Ligonier, the French remained in the area, and a month after the Battle of Fort Ligonier, British troops encountered French troops lurking around the fort. A skirmish resulted in the British killing one and capturing three more. Under interrogation, the prisoners revealed that Fort Duquesne was in a weakened state, prompting Forbes to make another attempt to capture Fort Duquesne.
Forbes brought more troops to Fort Ligonier until the population reached 4,000 men camped in and around the outside of the fort. In mid-November Forbes set out for Fort Duquesne, determined to recapture it. As Forbes approached the fort, the French realized that they would be facing an army far superior in numbers. They abandoned the fort, and on November 25, 1758, Forbes entered the unoccupied fort. The site would be renamed ‘Pittsburgh,’ in honor of Secretary of State William Pitt.
Fort Ligonier’s role in the development of Pittsburgh is now part of history, and the fort remained in service until March, 1766 when it was abandoned after the end of the French and Indian War. In the eight years it existed, it was never captured by enemy forces.
In 1934 the Daughters of the American Revolution launched a project to preserve the land on which the fort sat, and in 1947 the first archaeological dig was conducted on the grounds. At about the same time, researchers in England discovered rare 18th century maps that outlined details of the original fort, and reconstruction was begun in earnest. The fort we see today is a full-scale reproduction of the actual Fort Ligonier, and its artillery collection is considered the finest recreated 18th century artillery collection in North America.
The only feature remaining from the 18th century is the fort’s powder magazine. The archaeological dig uncovered the original floor, which still can be seen by descending through the entrance to the magazine itself. A hospital and the hut used by General Forbes have also been reconstructed and can be visited.
In 1960 the town of Ligonier held a festival known as Fort Ligonier Days to commemorate the Battle of Fort Ligonier. It proved so popular that it became an annual event, held every October. The festival highlight is the reenactment of the battle at the fort, including recreation of the camps utilized by the French, British, and Native Americans during the battle. The festival takes place over an entire weekend and includes artillery and battle demonstrations. For those who have never been there, it is a step back in time and well worth seeing.
Tomorrow: Alexander Ratiu
Photo credits: Battle photo – fortligonier.org, other photos – golaurelhighlands.com
It had never been done before, this tour that President Andrew Johnson planned to undertake. Traditionally, no previous president had undertaken a political campaign tour, and his action was seen as undignified and beneath the office. Knowing Johnson’s tendency to get carried away, even his advisors begged him to stick to the speeches that had been prepared for him, if he insisted on going. They would be only slightly successful.
Johnson had originally intended to support Abraham Lincoln’s approach to Reconstruction following the Civil War, but Lincoln was gone now. His assassination had catapulted Johnson into the presidency, and the new president had his own agenda. A former slave owner, Johnson resented the actions of Congress to extend rights to former slaves. Johnson’s focus leaned toward issuing vetoes on any civil rights legislation, pardoning former Confederate officials, and appointing high-ranking Confederate officials to prestigious positions. He would push this throughout the tour as he tried to gather support for his policies.
His 1866 tour would take him by train from Washington to New York, west to Chicago, south to St. Louis, and east through the Ohio River valley on its way back to Washington. He planned to stop in 22 cities in 18 days, including Johnstown. Secretary of State William Seward and Navy Secretary Gideon Welles would accompany him, as would war heroes David Farragut, George Armstrong Custer, and Ulysses Grant. The planned route led to the derogatory nickname: the Swing Around the Circle.
The tour went reasonably well at the beginning. Enthusiastic crowds greeted him in Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. His advisors breathed a sigh of relief when he stuck to the script in those cities. However, those cities were in the east. As he got into the Midwest he began to encounter more hostile crowds. His advisors had warned him that this part of the country was a Radical Republican stronghold. Johnson ignored their concerns.
The crowd in Cleveland was much the same in size as Johnson had seen in the eastern cities, but the Radical Republicans had planted hecklers in the crowd. They taunted him throughout his speech, and Johnson took the bait. He figuratively threw away his speech, choosing instead to argue with those who heckled him. When he mercifully left the balcony from which he had been speaking, his advisors immediately reminded him to maintain his dignity when he spoke. Johnson, still angry about the treatment he had received from the crowd, retorted, “I don’t care about my dignity.” Unfortunately for Johnson, several reporters overheard the remark and it became front page news across the nation.
This led to even more hostility, with the governor of Illinois and the Chicago city council boycotting his appearance there. In St. Louis he engaged once again with planted hecklers, going so far as to compare himself to Jesus when his “I don’t care … “ remark was hurled back at him. When he got to Indianapolis, the crowds became so vocal that he was unable to deliver any remarks, and fighting in the streets between his supporters and those who opposed him resulted in one man’s death after gunshots were fired. From then on, spectators drowned him out at every stop, often with calls for Grant to speak instead of the president. Grant wisely refused the requests.
As unpleasant as the tour had become, it was about to get even worse. On September 14, 1866 he arrived in Johnstown. An enthusiastic crowd of about 3,000 greeted him. A temporary wooden scaffold supported a platform that had been constructed for his visit, with an estimated 400 spectators on it. Senator Edgar Cowan made the introductions, and Grant and Farragut were greeted with loud cheers. As Johnson was being introduced, however, the platform and scaffold collapsed, sending those on it plunging about 20 feet into the old Pennsylvania Canal, which by now had been drained. A second part of the scaffold collapsed onto the first as rescuers were attempting to assist the injured from the first collapse. Men, women, and even children were among the victims. Thirteen people died, and hundreds were injured.
Because the tour was on a tight schedule, and to avoid hindering other rail traffic that was already being delayed for the tour stops, Johnson and his party left Johnstown with rescue operations still underway. The president directed several of his party to remain behind, including Deputy Marshal O’Beirne, to extend whatever aid they could. The departure of the train, however, did not make a good appearance, and Johnson was soundly berated in the press. The disaster only added to the negative impression the tour had already made.
Whether the tragedy in Johnstown had anything to do with it or not, Johnson’s reputation took a devastating hit, and his reputation was not stellar to begin with. Already known for his heavy drinking (he was said to have been drunk at his inauguration) he saw former allies turn against him. He was defeated by Grant in the 1868 election and would be remembered more for being the first president to be impeached than for anything he accomplished in office.
In 1869, the new president, Grant, made another stop in Johnstown. Remembering his earlier visit with Johnson, Grant began his remarks by saying, “This day three years ago I was one of the Executive party which stopped at this place. I trust that no catastrophe like that which occurred that day will happen to-day. I thank you, fellow citizens, for your cordial greeting.”
Tomorrow: Ft. Ligonier
Photo credits: Dickinson College
Not long ago I posted the account of Prince Demetrius Gallitzen. That post prompted Pat Petrell to suggest an article on today’s subject, John Weakland. Pat even supplied a reference source, so I am indebted to Pat for both the suggestion and the reference.
It turns out that John Weakland is a local legend, one that I must confess, I knew little of. Weakland had come to the area with a group from Maryland, before Prince Gallitzen arrived in the late 1700s to establish his mission. Born in 1758, Weakland was a big man, especially during an era when most were shorter than six feet. Weakland stood 6’-4” tall with broad shoulders. He worked a 100-acre farm near Loretto, raising seven sons along the way. He was said to have captured a wolf, put a muzzle on it, and taken it home for his sons to play with. He was also said to have been attacked by a bear at one time, killing the bear with a nearby fallen limb. Whether these stories are true or if they were embellished, he was known as a man not to be trifled with.
Despite his fearsome appearance, however, Weakland was peaceful and deeply religious. A good friend of Prince Gallitzen, he was devoted to the priest. His stature had made him a logical choice as acting justice of the peace, an unofficial yet necessary position in the frontier life that was Western Pennsylvania at the time. His decisions in some of the cases he heard had made him more than a few enemies.
Prince Gallitzen was of like manner, a no-nonsense authoritarian whose haughty personality did not sit well with some of the more rough-and-tumble members of his parish. The priest ruffled even more feathers when he hired a young woman named Rachel White to teach at his school, allowing her to live in his house for a while. Some of his more pious parishioners were outraged at even this innocent hint of scandal.
Rumbles of a rebellion in the church began, reaching a point so severe that Gallitzen began to carry a pistol for his protection. One of Gallitzen’s political enemies, Edward James, immediately reported Gallitzen’s actions to the bishop. Things reached a fever pitch in July, 1807, when the priest was confronted outside his chapel at McGuire’s Settlement. When they demanded that he leave the area, Gallitzen rushed back inside the chapel.
As the mob prepared to rush into the chapel, buckskin-clad John Weakland made his appearance. He picked up an oaken fence rail and spoke to the crowd, telling them that he admitted fighting with wild animals, but he had never harmed a human being. Until now. The crowd shifted uneasily from foot to foot, unsure of what Weakland would do. Then, uncharacteristically, Weakland raised his voice and threatened to crush the skull of any man who acted improperly around the House of God or who dared to lay hands on the priest. That was enough for the crowd, which quickly disbanded. Weakland watched them leave, then went back to his farm.
In 1816 Weakland relocated to Hart’s Sleeping Place near Carrolltown. There he bought 637 acres of farmland and lived out his days, passing away at the age of 96 in 1854. He was buried at the St. Augustine Church, a few miles from his farm. Several years later, however, his body was exhumed for reburial at the St. Joseph’s Mission Church at Hart’s Sleeping Place. When his grave was opened, his right arm and hand, the limb that had brandished the fence rail in defense of Prince Gallitzen, was said to remain as it looked when he was alive, while the rest of the body had decomposed.
Coincidence or miracle? I’ll let each of you decide for yourself. The St. Joseph’s Mission Church thought it was the latter and installed a stained glass window showing Weakland defending Prince Gallitzen. The window also depicts the wolf, the bear, and Weakland’s arm. A photo of that stained glass window, also furnished by Pat Petrell, accompanies this post.
Tomorrow: President Andrew Johnson’s disastrous visit to Johnstown
Photo credit: Pat Petrell and St. Joseph’s Mission Church
Along Shade Creek in Somerset County, not far from Central City, sits a pile of rocks that look like some sort of foundation. In reality, they are the remains of the old Shade Creek Furnace, part of a countryside plantation style ironmaking operation that existed from 1808 to 1858. Associated with the furnace are a forge site, ore pit site, farmstead site, and a late 19th century coal mine. Together the group makes up what is known as the Shade Furnace Archaeological District.
Construction of Shade Creek Furnace began in 1808 on the property of Thomas Vickroy, a frontiersman, farmer, land speculator, and surveyor. Vickroy did not live on the property, however, maintaining a farm and home in Alum Bank, Bedford County. Vickroy sold the iron works in 1818, along with more than 4,000 acres of surrounding land, to iron merchant Mark Richards for $23,500. It was Richards who developed the small iron works into a major iron production facility. In 1846 Richards sold the facility to the Johnstown firm of Shyrock, Bingham, and Company, which developed the property further.
The furnace itself is the central structure in the grouping. A stone cased blast furnace, the forerunner of the modern blast furnaces where some readers may have worked, it stands about 30 feet tall and resembles a pyramid. It was the first iron furnace in Somerset County, and was built beside a hill the way most furnaces were at that time. The charge of iron ore, charcoal, and limestone flux was introduced through the top of the furnace, and the hill provided the access needed to get the charge to the top. A bench area was leveled off at an elevation on the hill that was equal to the height of the furnace’s top, and a small bridge was built from the bench to the charging port. The bench was also used to stockpile the raw materials.
It is believed that a water wheel was used to pump a bellows that would have been as large as 12 feet in length and four feet in width. The need for the water wheel is the reason the furnace was built along the stream, although eventually the water wheel was replaced by a steam engine. The bellows provided a blast of air into the burning iron and charcoal, raising the temperature above the melting point of the iron. A small hole at the base led to a narrow chamber called a crucible, from where the molten iron was tapped. Twice each day the molten iron was taken to an adjoining structure called a casting shed. There, the liquid was placed into sand molds and allowed to cool.
The iron that was produced, called pig iron, was then processed into malleable wrought iron at the nearby finery forge. The end product then was shipped to market in Pittsburgh, using barges that were constructed in Johnstown by a man named Garett Ream. Called arcs, these barges had problems navigating the rapids of the Conemaugh River and eventually became too costly and inefficient. Competition from larger, more efficient furnaces in Johnstown added to the Shade Creek facility woes, spelling the end for the furnace operation in 1858.
Work at the furnace took place around the clock, with 15-20 men needed to operate the furnace and another 40-60 to do other associated work. Workers stayed in small cabins, with a large house for the ironmaster. Draft animals were housed in barns. With the furnace’s isolated location, there was little opportunity for recreation, and the workers developed a reputation for passing the time by consuming huge amounts of hard liquor. This practice most likely was also a contributor to the operation’s inefficiency.
From 1998 to 2006 an archaeological survey was conducted at the site by the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Artifacts found on the surface were noted and mapped, and items located by metal detector were left in place while also being recorded on maps.
The survey noted that the blast furnace itself had largely collapsed into rubble, with only the north face and an arch remaining intact. The pit for the water wheel was still clearly visible, as was the race that transported the water some 500 feet from Shade Creek to the wheel. There is also evidence of the presence of a sawmill near the race. The bench that was used to provide access to the charging port is still intact. Its size of 14,000 square feet gives a good indication of the size of the operation. Four small foundations were also discovered, although their purpose is not known for certain. It is thought that they may have been some of the cabins used to house the workers.
A farmstead on the property is in ruins. The foundation measures 40 feet by 25 feet, and a dug cellar remains in place. This is believed to have been the ironmaster’s residence. The last ironmaster was Daniel Weyand. The ruins of a fireplace and chimney are now only a pile of rubble. A small depression nearby appears to be the site of a cistern or well. The ruins of a bank barn nearby are identified by the stone walls and stone post supports.
The complex also shows evidence of other cabins, the forge site, ore pit site, and a mine complex known as the Weyand Mine. The entire complex contributed to the growing river trade in Johnstown in the early 1800s. In 2008 the furnace and its associated sites were added to the National Register of Historic Places.
Tomorrow: John Weakland
Photo credits: Wikipedia
Tom Yewcic was born May 9, 1932 in Conemaugh, one of 11 children in George and Julia Yewcic’s family. An outstanding athlete, he played football, basketball, and baseball at East Conemaugh High School, being selected to the All-State team in both football and basketball. During the summer months he played baseball in the Johnstown Junior League.
Following graduation from high school Yewcic was awarded a scholarship to Michigan State University. In 1952 he led MSU to an undefeated season and the national championship. In the process he set the school’s single-season record for passing yards and punting average. While the Spartans didn’t win the national championship the next year, they did win the Big 10 championship, with Yewcic again starring. He also led them to a win over UCLA in the Rose Bowl on January 1, 1954.
In 1954 he also earned All-American honors playing catcher for the MSU team that reached the College World Series. There, he was named World Series MVP. He is believed to be the only person to play in both the Rose Bowl and the College World Series in the same year.
He earned his bachelor’s degree in Physical Education from Michigan State University and a master’s degree in Psychology from Boston State University. Wishing to serve his country, Tom served as a 1st Lieutenant in the United States Army from 1955-1957.
Yewcic was one of those athletes that was good enough in two sports to play professionally in both. Following his graduation from Michigan State in 1954 he signed a baseball contract with the Detroit Tigers. Assigned to the Single A team in Wilkes-Barre, he hit a home run in his first at bat. When he got to AAA-level Buffalo, he did even better, hitting a grand slam home run in his first at bat there. In 1957 he made it to the major leagues with the Detroit Tigers. He only appeared in one game, with one time at bat against the Washington Senators. He didn’t get a hit, but he was always able to say he played in a major league uniform.
He fared much better as a professional football player, playing six years for the Boston Patriots. As the backup quarterback for Babe Parilli, he filled in during the 1962 season when Parilli was injured in a game against Houston. Yewcic sparked the team to three straight wins, beating Houston, Denver, and the New York Titans. He showed his versatility when he also played as an end.
Yewcic’s main role with the Patriots was as the team’s punter. He played the role well, punting 377 times in his six-year career, with only eight of those kicks blocked. His instructions were to kick the ball high to allow his teammates to get downfield before the opponent could get an effective blocking wall set up for the kick returner. As a result, he only averaged 38.6 yards per kick for his career. Still, for fie of his six years he finished in the top 10 statistically, indicating his effectiveness at preventing long runbacks of his punts.
When the need called for it, Yewcic showed his leg strength, setting a team record with a 70-yard punt against the New York Jets in 1965. He was known for his ability to kick the ball into the ‘coffin corner,’ kicking it at such an angle that it would go out of bounds inside the 10-yard line, pinning the opponent deep in their own territory and limiting their options on offense. He also set a league record for most yards kicked in a game. He and Tom Brady share the distinction of being the only players to have ever punted, thrown a touchdown pass, caught a pass, and run for a touchdown in a Patriots uniform. He is also the only player in Patriot’s history to have played in Fenway Park as both a major league baseball player and an NFL football player.
After he ended his playing days, Yewcic became an assistant coach for the Patriots and head coach for the New England Colonials. He loved coaching and continued to mentor players both on and off the field, throughout his life.
When he left football as a coach, he took a job in Medical sales at Allmed Surgical Supplies, eventually becoming Vice President in Charge of Sales. He remained in contact with the NFL however, also serving as president of the New England Patriots Alumni Association. One of his favorite activities was getting involved in fundraising for many charitable organizations, including the Easter Seals, The Arthritis Foundation, Brain Tumor Society, American Liver Foundation and the Jimmy Fund. He also served as President of the Arlington Touchdown Club and was a Trustee for the Sports Museum of New England.
In his family life he married his wife Jane, a marriage that lasted 54 years. It ended with Jane’s death in 2014. Their marriage produced a son and a daughter, as well as three grandchildren. Tom Yewcic died on October 20, 2020 in Arlington, Massachusetts.
Tom’s name and number are imprinted on the outfield wall at the Michigan State Baseball Stadium and he is enshrined into the Michigan State University Athletics Hall of Fame for both Football and Baseball. In August 2020 he was named as the catcher on the All-Time Michigan State baseball team by NCAA.com. The football stadium at Conemaugh Valley High School is named for him, and in 1965 he was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
Tomorrow: Shade Creek Furnace
Photo credits: Baseball head shot – Detroit Tigers; Catcher pose – Michigan state University; Football action photo – New England Patriots
On May 12, 1927 a ceremony took place in Johnstown to commemorate the establishment of the first junior college to be affiliated with a university in the Eastern United States. That junior college was known as Johnstown Junior College of the University of Pittsburgh. It quickly became known as Junior Pitt, with students attending for two years before transferring to the main campus of the University of Pittsburgh. Today it is one of the top ranked universities in the east: the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown, or UPJ.
The junior college’s first class was conducted in the old Johnstown Central High School on September 24, 1927 using portions of the school especially tailored for college students living at home. There were 40 female and 110 male students that first year, and tuition was $20/credit, or $300/year.
At the end of World War II the college, like most others, was inundated with former GIs seeking an education under the GI Bill, officially known as the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944. This Act was established by Congress to assist returning servicemen and women with low-interest mortgages and stipends to cover tuition and expenses to attend a college or trade school. To accommodate the student growth, a former grade school in Moxham, the old Cypress Avenue School, was set up as the college’s new location. The school was outfitted with 11 classrooms, seven laboratories, a combination gymnasium/auditorium, and student lounges. All parking was on-street, and it was first come, first served. That included local residents who lived on the streets in the immediate area surrounding the new college. Surprisingly, there were few protests among local residents, and the college took on a new nickname: the Asphalt Campus. It was appropriate; the ‘campus’ did not have one blade of grass.
In 1958 the junior college took on another name, this one more official: the Johnstown College of the University of Pittsburgh. Dr. Theodore W. Biddle was named as the first president. He would serve in that post until 1971, and Biddle Hall on todays campus is named in his honor. Roy ‘Jigger’ Johns was named Dean of Students. On a personal note, Jigger was a former minor league baseball player who also was my summer baseball coach. It was his influence that took me to the Asphalt Campus as a student near the end of the Cypress Avenue location.
In the early 1960s land was acquired from the Berwind-White Coal Company in Richland, which was to be the site of a new, larger campus. That campus opened in 1967 with two academic buildings: North Hall and South Hall. There were also three new dormitories known as Laurel Hall, Oak Hall, and Maple Hall. The campus also housed a Student Union Building, which also contained a gymnasium and dining facility. The honored guest at the opening ceremony was former president Dwight D. Eisenhower.
The campus continued to grow, and in 1971 Jack E. freeman succeeded Dr .Biddle as president. Under his guidance, the college’s philosophy changed from “building buildings to building programs.” The college became a four-year college in 1973 with degree programs of its own in Humanities, Education, Engineering Technology, Social Sciences, and Natural Sciences. The next year UPJ’s athletics teams officially became known as the Mountain Cats.
Dr. Frank H. Blackington III took over as president in 1974. That same year the athletics programs added women’s sports. The next year, UPJ added another ‘first’ to its resume when it became the first regional campus of a major university to be accepted into the NCAA, the National Collegiate Athletic Association. In 1977 the campus took on a more somber role when its dormitories were used to house more than 400 local residents who had been displaced by the city’s third major flood.
In sports, the women’s basketball team went 26-2 in 1981, making it to the Final Four in the NCAA women’s Division II basketball tournament. In 1989 Carlton Haselrig became the only person in collegiate history to win six NCAA wrestling championships, three in Division II and three in Division I. The early 1990s saw the construction of the Zamias Aquatic Center, the Pasquerilla Performing Arts Center, and the J. Irving Whalley Memorial Chapel.
In 1994 a new president, Dr. Albert L. Etheridge, took over. He would serve in that capacity until 2007, and in his time in office more buildings were added to the campus, and the wrestling team won NCAA Division II Dual Meet national championships in 1996 and 1999. Coach Pat Pecora also became the first NCAA Division II wrestling coach to reach 500 wins. Coach Pecora was the featured subject of a post just a few days ago. On a lighter note, Physics instructor David Willey set a world record by walking 165 feet across burning coals in his bare feet. His on-campus achievement made him a television celebrity by appearing on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno 19 times.
In 2007, Dr. Jem Spectar became university president, launching a number of innovations. The UPJ Athletics Hall of Fame opened in 2007 with the induction of five former student-athletes. The Alumni Association made its first Distinguished Alumni Award presentation in 2008, with the award presented to Congressman John P. Murtha. The Mountain Cat Veterans’ Program was created in 2009 to recognize the services performed by our veterans, leading to UPJ’s recognition as a Military Friendly School. Other milestones under President Spectar include the launching of a community service initiative known as Pitt-Johnstown @ Your Service (2009); introduction of a Bachelor of Science degree in Nursing (2009); the advance of the Concrete Canoe team to the national championships (2010); dedication of renovations to the Wellness Center and Biddle Hall (2011); development of the Heroes Memorial (2011); dedication of newly renovated Krebs Hall (2012), a new Nursing and Health Sciences Building (2013), and the Cook Family Idea Lab (2015; the joining of the university’s 15 athletic teams into the Pennsylvania State Athletic Conference (2103); launch of the new Division of Business Enterprise (2015); transition of the Engineering Technology program to a Bachelor of Science Degree in Engineering (2015); site of a campaign visit by former President Bill Clinton on behalf of his wife, presidential candidate Hillary Clinton (2016); induction of wrestling coach Pat Pecora into the Pennsylvania Chapter of the National Wrestling Hall of Fame (2017); opening of the John P. Murtha Center for Public Service and National Competiveness (2017); and the 617th victory for wrestling coach Pat Pecora to make him the national leader in wins.
Today the campus sits on 655 lush acres and contains 36 buildings. Committed not only to academics, the campus has 15 miles of hiking and biking trails that are open to the public.
Thanks to UPJ for providing the information to put this post together.
Tomorrow: Tom Yewcic
Photo credits: UPJ
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John Stofa was born here in Johnstown on May 29, 1942 and lived in Brownstown with his parents, John and Ann Stofa, and his two brothers and two sisters. He attended Bishop McCort High School, where he was an outstanding football and baseball player. After graduating from high school he attended the University of Buffalo, where he became the starting quarterback. He would go on to set passing and total yardage records at Buffalo.
In 1964 and 1965 Stofa played on a minor league football team in Daytona Beach. John signed a free-agent contract to play for the American Football League’s expansion team in Miami in 1966 and 1967. With the Dolphins he played eight games, starting two of them. He completed 31 passes in 59 attempts for the Dolphins, gaining 476 yards and four touchdowns. He finished up with the Dolphins in fine style, completing a 14-yard touchdown pass to Joe Auer in a 29-28 win over the Houston Oilers.
Stofa made history the next season after the Dolphins traded his contract to another expansion team, the Cincinnati Bengals. The Bengals made him their first selection, making him the very first player ever signed by the Bengals. His license plate showed his pride in being selected first. It read: 1ATBNGL. As most expansion teams do, the Bengals only went 3-11 that season, but John completed 85 passes in 177 attempts, for 896 yards and five touchdowns. He accomplished this while splitting playing time with two other quarterbacks: Dewey Warren and Sam Wyche. Among those five touchdowns was a 58-yard pass to tight end Bob Trumpy in the team’s second game, a 24-10 win over the Denver Broncos. Not only was it the first win in team history, Stofa’s pass was the first touchdown pass in team history, as well.
The next season, 1969, saw John placed on waivers in training camp, although the Bengals resigned him to their taxi squad. His old team, the Dolphins, decided they wanted him back and signed him off the waiver wire. Back in Miami, her served as backup quarterback for Bob Griese and Rick Norton in 1969 and completing 14 passes in 23 attempts. The next year, 1970, saw the Dolphins in the NFL after the NFL-AFL merger. Again playing behind Griese but with Norton gone, John threw for 240 yards and three touchdowns.
Stofa was traded to the Denver Broncos in 1971 but suffered a shoulder injury that prevented him from playing, and he was out of football during the 1972 and 1973 seasons. He got one last opportunity to play when the World Football League was organized in 1974. Signing with the Jacksonville Sharks, he served as backup quarterback to Reggie Oliver and Kay Stephenson and completed two passes in five attempts, for 24 yards and a touchdown. Unfortunately, the league folded after one season and John was out of football for the final time.
After football, John retired to private life with his wife Katie, daughter of Frank Oceak, the third base coach for the Pirates during their 1960 World Series-winning season. John joined Medical Mutual of Ohio, where he worked for several years. He also served on the board of directors for the University of Buffalo Blue and White Club, an organization that annually raised funds to provide scholarships.
In 1973 John was inducted into the University of Buffalo Athletic Hall of Fame. Two years later he received similar local honors, being inducted in 1975 into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
Thanks to my classmate and good friend, Joe Havrilla, for providing most of the information on his cousin, John Stofa’s, personal life.
Tomorrow: UPJ
Photo credits: Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
The year 1940 was not a good one for mine safety. An explosion in Pond Creek Pocahontas Company’s Number 1 mine in Bartley, West Virginia had claimed the lives of 91 miners only 10 days into the new year. Just three months later another explosion killed 72 men in Neffs, Ohio at the Willow Grove Number 10 mine. On July 15, the mine disasters hit closer to home, when a methane explosion at the Sonman ‘E’ mine in Portage took the lives of 63 miners.
An estimated 350 men were working in the mine that day. In late morning, the explosion closed off the north slope heading and entrapped 91 workers in the mine owned by the Sonman Shaft Coal Company. Calls went out to the Portage Volunteer Fire Company and mine rescue squads from Johnstown, Windber, and other areas of Cambria County. The first rescuers to arrive were frustrated by a rock fall, triggered by the explosion, that had blocked the slope entrance. State Police were summoned to control the crowd of family members of the miners that quickly gathered, and Red Cross officials sent trained first-aid responders to the scene. Bureau of Mines representatives were also summoned from Pittsburgh.
About three hours after the explosion, rescuers were elated to find 18 men, all alive. The finding raised hope of those on the surface and spurred other rescue teams to continue pushing deeper into the mine, where the blast was thought to have originated. One of those rescued said that rock was falling all around them as they ran for safety, and that they eventually had to drop to their knees, and then flat onto the ground, so they could breathe. None of the men suffered more than some minor burns.
Rescuers were hampered by the potential for additional explosions and had to proceed slowly. When the remaining 63 men were finally located it was apparent that none had survived. Thirty-four men had desperately sought shelter behind a makeshift barricade, and most appeared to have died of suffocation from afterdamp, a toxic mixture of gases which contain a high proportion of carbon monoxide. Seven more were found nearby. One of the victims had written a note, indicating that at least a few of them had still been alive as late as 6:00 pm. The rest of the victims were found in groups ranging in size from two to eight, indicating that all had survived the blast but died as they attempted to get out of the area. Many of the victims were found when rescue crews followed footprints in the dust. The last victim was discovered at about 8:30 the next morning.
Cambria County Sheriff C. W. Davis and 100 special deputies set up a temporary morgue at the Portage Municipal Building. To prevent potential outbursts of hysteria, the bodies were identified by mine officials and co-workers inside the mine prior to bringing them out. The last body removed from the mine was that of Thomas Shaw, a wireman.
An investigation headed by the Pennsylvania Department of Mines found that an arc or spark from a trolley locomotive working in the area had ignited explosive gas, with the flame rapidly following the remaining gas and dust that had been suspended in the air. The explosion had only affected a relatively small area of the mine but was made more deadly by the fact that water was not used to keep the dust down, and rock dust that would have further aided in preventing dust explosions was only used sparingly. The inquiry concluded that the disaster resulted from a failure of the system that should have been anticipated.
In 1960 a memorial to those killed in the disaster was moved from the United Mine Workers Hall to Chrichton-McCormick Park in Portage. A documentary film, “63 Men Down: The Story of the Sonman Mine Explosion,” was made and is shown at the Portage Station Museum.
Tomorrow: John Stofa
Photo credits – Black and White photo: Joseph A. Holmes Safety Association
Before moving on, I want to thank all of you for the get well wishes extended to my wife, Suzanne, after her recent surgery. She is doing well and feeling better each day. The pain is less than we expected (or less than I expected, anyway), and she is starting to feel bored, so that’s a good sign. Thanks also to those who brought food in for us (apparently they know I will never be confused with Emeril Lagasse). We both appreciate all that has been done. Having said that …
We usually think of the Amish as being extremely fine craftsmen, and rightly so. In the early 1800s a group of Pennsylvania Dutch Amish and Mennonite families settled just outside Johnstown in the Conemaugh Township area of northern Somerset County, where they quickly gained a reputation for their skills at making furniture and cabinetry. They also manufactured soap, a product that soon gave a name to the area where they lived: Soap Hollow.
Most of these craftsmen were German immigrants, and when the census was taken they listed their occupations as farmers, carpenters, or undertakers. Unable to work outside, the farmers became carpenters during the winter months and honed their skills when the snow started to fall. Undertakers, on the other hand, became skilled carpenters by virtue of the need to build caskets. So, even though the census often showed someone with a specific job, by default they often were also carpenters and cabinet makers.
At first, their carpentry was mostly for personal use, or for family members and friends. Gradually, however, when others saw the quality of their work, their products became more in demand, and the style of furniture they made grew to be called Soap Hollow Furniture, for the location where it was made.
Soap Hollow furniture generally was made between 1834 and 1928 and followed a distinctive style. On chests of drawers and stands, finely turned legs framed by curved feet were characteristics, as was the use of stenciling as part of the decoration. Chests and cupboards had a slight drop in the center of the skirts. Perhaps the most unique feature was the use of a wedge in every dovetail joint, to enhance rigidity and stability.
We often think of the Pennsylvania Dutch as being plain and simple, and their furniture was a reflection of that. Colors are often black, dark green, or a deep red, and if any stenciling is done, it is usually in gold. The maker of the piece also usually incorporated the date and his name or initials somewhere on the surface of his work. Soap Hollow Furniture is also characterized by bracketed feet, with thick skirting or backboards. If the piece required locking, keyholes were almost always diamond shaped. Over time, each craftsman settled on his own specific design, such as a star, heart, or some unique shape, which he would stencil on his work to show who made it. Because carpentry and cabinet-making was largely carried on from generation to generation, patterns varied little over time, and those who studied Soap Hollow Furniture became so familiar with these patterns that they could name the person, or at least the family, who built the piece, just by seeing the pattern.
It was always handmade, and eventually it was no longer economically feasible to continue making it. Factory-made furniture could be turned out in large numbers and meet the growing demand much easier and faster than could a few craftsmen who needed several days to build one piece. Because of its rarity today, coupled with a quality that allows the piece to be used for generations with no deterioration in condition, Soap Hollow Furniture is highly prized today by collectors, who are willing to pay thousands of dollars for even the smallest of items. Authentic Soap Hollow furniture was only made in this small local community and can not be duplicated.
The Soap Hollow style was copied in Michigan, Indiana, and Canada. Even furniture made in those areas, however, recognized the quality and importance of Soap Hollow and called their furniture Soap Hollow Furniture, even though it had not actually been made in Soap Hollow.
The name Sala often is seen on Soap Hollow furniture. John Sala was the most prolific of those making Soap Hollow Furniture, and he trained his sons and neighbors. He had such a unique style that his furniture was often called Sala Furniture before it became part of the Soap Hollow movement. Other craftsmen from Soap Hollow included John’s brother Joseph Sala, Christian Blauch (Blaugh), Jeremiah Stahl, Peter K. Thomas, and Tobias Livingstone, among others.
If you should happen to be fortunate enough to stumble onto a piece of Soap Hollow Furniture for sale, buy it (if you can afford it) for two good reasons: It is a great investment, and it is a part of local history
If you’ve lived in Johnstown any length of time (say, maybe two hours or more) You may have heard about the love affair Johnstown has with hockey. If you haven’t, just mention it to someone and then stand back. There is no shortage of people here who will be happy to fill you in.
Our history with hockey goes back to the World War II era, when a team known as the Johnstown Blue Birds played in the old Shaffer Ice Palace for the 1941 and 1942 seasons of the Eastern Amateur Hockey League. The team folded and the Ice Palace was converted to a defense manufacturing facility after the 1942 season and hockey disappeared from Johnstown until 1950, when the Jets joined the Eastern Amateur Hockey League, playing in the new Cambria County War Memorial. The league proved to be a less than ideal location for the Jets, with instability seeming to be the league trademark. In the two-year period after the Johnstown Jets joined the league, Philadelphia and Washington folded due to poor attendance, with a team from Boston replacing the first Washington team in D.C. The New York team moved to Troy, New York when the team was bumped from many of its home dates in Madison Square Garden by the New York Knicks, and the Atlantic City team stopped operations when many of their games were bumped by conventions.
After the 1953 season the Jets moved to the International League and the Springfield Indians moved to the Quebec Hockey League, forcing the Eastern Amateur Hockey League to fold for lack of teams, when only three teams remained. While in the EAHL the Jets more than held their own, winning league championships in 1951-52 and 1952-53.
Johnstown remained in the International League until the 1955 season, a year after the old EAHL reorganized under its new name, the Eastern Hockey League. Transferring to the new EHL, the team remained in the league from 1955 until 1973. During that span the team won league playoff championships in 1959-60, 1960-61, and 1961-62, as well as the regular season division championship in 1963-64. It was this rough-and-tumble league that inspired the hit movie “Slapshot”, written by Nancy Dowd, whose brother Ned, played for the Jets. Most of the movie was filmed in Johnstown.
At the end of the 1972-73 season the league suspended operations, with most of the EHL teams moving to either the North American Hockey League or the Southern Hockey League. Johnstown opted for the NAHL, where it stayed through the end of the 1976-77 season. Along the way, Johnstown won the 1974-75 league championship.
In 1978 the Northeastern Hockey League was founded, and Johnstown, now a farm team of the Detroit Red Wings, was moved into this new league, taking on the nickname of the Wings. A year later the league changed its name to the Eastern Hockey League, which folded and reorganized as the Atlantic Coast Hockey League. Now playing as the Johnstown Red Wings, rather than just the Wings, the team folded after the 1979-80 season.
Johnstown was without professional hockey until the 1987 season, when it joined the All American Hockey League. The team was now known as the Chiefs, adopting the nickname of the fictional Charlestown Chiefs from the “Slapshot” movie. The league never really took hold, and Johnstown made the decision to leave the league, along with the Carolina Thunderbirds and the Virginia Lancers. These three teams added the Erie Panthers and the Knoxville Cherokees and formed the East Coast Hockey League for the 1988-89 season. The Greensboro (North Carolina) Monarchs, Hampton Roads (Virginia) Admirals, and the Nashville (Tennessee) Knights also joined in as founding members.
Johnstown played successfully in the ECHL until the team was relocated to Greenville, South Carolina at the end of the 2010 season. To satisfy the local thirst for hockey, the Wheeling Nailers of the ECHL agreed to play 10 of their games in Johnstown the next season. While it was only 10 games, it did bridge the gap until the 2012 season, when a new Johnstown team, the Tomahawks, joined the North American Hockey League. Primarily a midwestern league, the NAHL began its eastward expansion by placing a team in Johnstown. The success in Johnstown led to teams forming in six other cities in the east, and the Tomahawks remain one of the top teams in the NAHL.
Four Johnstown Jets players have had their numbers retired by the team: Reg Kent (Number 7), Galen Head (Number 8), Don Hall (Number 9), and Dick Roberge (Number 11). Johnstown’s professional teams have sent 109 players to the National Hockey League, and at least three former local players, Doug Bennet, Chris Stewart, and Dana Heinze have become NHL trainers.
In addition, most local high schools have hockey teams, as well as UPJ and IUP. Numerous leagues provide learning opportunities for even younger players and girls teams, and those who are physically unable to skate can play on a sled hockey team. So there is something for everyone who wants to play hockey in Johnstown. If you’re just a spectator, you can come to the annual Slapshot Tournament, a competition between more than 25 teams from across the United States and Canada, and occasionally a team from Europe.
In May, 2015 Johnstown was named Hockeyville USA in nationwide voting. Sponsored by Kraft Foods, the award honors the top hockey community in the country, as chosen by popular vote. With the award came $150,000 for arena upgrades and a nationally televised pre-season game between the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Tampa Bay Lightning. Johnstown showed the nation why it was named Hockeyville by selling out the arena for not only the game, but also the morning practice skates by the two teams.
Tomorrow: Francis Cunningham, another Medal of Honor recipient
Photo credits: Ice Palace Photo – Ice Hockey Wiki; Tomahawks logo – Johnstown Tomahawks
Born July 11, 1956 to parents Charles M. and Dolores J. (Gresik) Cummings, Pat Cummings always was big for his age. He would grow to be 6’-9” tall and weigh 230 pounds. And unlike a lot of big kids, he wasn’t awkward, exhibiting the kind of fluid movements that had basketball coaches drooling with envy when they realized he would be playing for someone else. At Johnstown High School he scored 1,136 career points, leading the Trojans to two District Championships. The Trojans went undefeated in the regular season of his senior year and finished 23-1 before losing to Sharon in a state playoff game at the War Memorial. Not surprisingly, Cummings earned first- team All-State honors.
He received a scholarship to play at the University of Cincinnati, where he still holds the record for a single season field goal percentage, at .642 in his 1977-78 season. He averaged .581 for his career, second in school history. Among other outstanding achievements, he is second all-time in field goals (756). Only the great Oscar Robertson had more. His career total points (1,762) was also second to Robertson, although he has since slipped to sixth place. Cummings also has the fifth highest season scoring average (24.6 points/game). He played for the Bearcats from 1975-76 and 1977-79, missing the 1976-77 season after suffering a broken leg. Cummings averaged 17.1 points and 8.3 rebounds during his four seasons with the Bearcats. He was his team’s Most Valuable Player for the 1977-78 and 1978-79 seasons and earned All-Conference first team recognition in the Metro Conference those same two years. The Metro Conference named him the 1978-79 Conference Player of the Year, and he was selected to several All-American teams. In 1990 the university inducted him into its James P. Kelly UC Athletics Hall of Fame.
While he was still a junior in college, he was drafted in the third round by the NBA’s Milwaukee Bucks. He opted to remain at Cincinnati for his senior year before joining the Bucks the next season. He saw limited action in his four years with the Bucks, although he was productive when he did get into games. He shot over 50% from the floor and over 70% from the foul line, scoring 30 points against both the Denver Nuggets and again against the Cleveland Cavaliers.
In 1982 Cummings was traded to the Dallas Mavericks, where he became the starting center. His first year here he averaged 12.5 points and 8.2 rebounds per game. He scored 20 points or more in 10 games, then topped that the next season by doing it in 12 games. He became a free-agent at the end of the 1983-84 season and signed with the New York Knicks at just about the same time he was being inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
In his first year with the Knicks he had the best scoring average of his career, scoring at a 15.8 points per game clip. He also had his best single game, scoring 32 points against the Los Angeles Clippers, only to top that two nights later by scoring 34 points against the Phoenix Suns. The next year he averaged 15.7 points and 9.0 rebounds per game, with a high of 34 points against the Washington Bullets before injuries ended his season after only 31 games. He had surgery to remove bone spurs from his right ankle and returned to the team for two more years but never seemed to regain his form during that time. In 1988 he was released.
Convinced he could still play, Cummings signed a free agent contract in 1988 with the Miami Heat expansion team, where he was the starting center in the Heat’s first-ever game. He played sparingly, however, and was waived near the end of the 1989-90 season.
Unable to get a contract with an NBA team, Cummings played professionally in Italy in the 1990-91 season, latching on with the Utah Jazz near the end of the season for four games before being released for the last time. He finished his 12-year career with a 9.6 points per game average and a .421 field goal percentage.
After retiring from the NBA Cummings settled in the Cleveland suburb of Loveland, Ohio, where he earned his real estate license. On June 26, 2012 he suffered a heart attack and passed away at age 55 while visiting a friend in New York. His remains were returned to Johnstown, where he was interred in Mausoleum 4 in Grandview Cemetery.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s hockey history
Photo credit: Head shot – University of Cincinnati; Action shot – Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame
84Tim Burns, Jeff Hammer and 82 others
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While the name Charles M. Schwab may not sound familiar today, it was his guidance that pushed Bethlehem Steel to become the second largest steel maker in the world. He was born in Williamsburg, Pennsylvania on February 18, 1862, the son of John Anthony and Pauline (Farabaugh) Schwab. All four of his grandparents were German immigrants. Schwab was raised in Loretto, and he considered Loretto his home town.
Schwab married Emma Eurana Dinkey on May 1, 1883 and began his career working for Andrew Carnegie at the Edgar Thomson Steel Works and Furnaces in Braddock. Through a series of promotions he became president of Carnegie Steel Company in 1897, at the age of only 35. Four years later he negotiated the sale of the company to a group of New York financiers led by J. P. Morgan and became the head of the company that would be formed from Carnegie’s former holdings: the United States Steel Corporation. He left U.S. Steel in 1903 to lead the Bethlehem Shipbuilding and Steel Company, growing it to become the largest independent steel producer in the world.
Schwab was ardently anti-union, and in 1910, when Bethlehem Steel employees went out on strike, Schwab brought in the Pennsylvania State Police. His move broke the strike and the employees returned to work. Bethlehem Steel would not have any union workers until several years after Schwab’s death.
In 1911, Bethlehem Steel formed a company soccer team. Schwab used his wealth to recruit “workers,” some from Scotland and England, who just happened to be outstanding soccer players. Within a few years he decided the team, Bethlehem Steel F. C. (F.C. being Football Club) was good enough to compete professionally. The team began competing in the National Association Foot Ball League in 1917 and would go on to win eight league championships, six American Cups, and five National Challenge Cups. It was considered one of the greatest teams in U.S. history. The team was disbanded when the Great Depression made it financially impractical to continue operating the team.
In 1918 Schwab became Director General of the Emergency Fleet Corporation at the personal request of President Woodrow Wilson. The corporation was a board granted by Congress to oversee all shipbuilding in the United States. After the U.S. got into World War I he was accused of profiteering, although he was eventually acquitted. Always controversial, however, he was referred to by Thomas Edison as the Master Hustler.
Over the years Schwab became very wealthy, moving to the upper west side of Manhattan, where he built an imposing 75-room mansion. The mansion, named Riverside, covered an entire city block. After his death it was offered to New York City for use as the official residence of the mayor, but the offer was turned down by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, who said the mansion was too grandiose for such a use. It was eventually torn down and replaced by apartments.
Schwab also owned a smaller 44-room summer home in Loretto called Immergrun, German for ‘Evergreen.’ The estate covered 1,000 acres and featured opulent gardens and a nine-hole golf course. It appears here in a postcard photo. When he wanted to build a larger house, he chose to slide the old one on rollers to a new location 200 feet away. It would become Mount Assisi Friary on the grounds of St. Francis University.
Schwab loved the high life, hosting lavish parties and becoming a high-stakes gambler. He attained status as an international celebrity when he literally broke the bank at Monte Carlo. He traveled in a magnificent $100,000 rail car that he named Loretto, and had numerous extramarital affairs. He loved spending money, and was famously quoted as saying, “I disagreed with Carnegie’s ideas on how to best distribute his wealth. I spent mine.” He was not boasting. It was estimated that he had spent as much as $40,000,000 (the equivalent of more than $600,000,000 in 2020) before the Great Depression hit. What was left of his fortune disappeared in the stock market crash of 1929, and he lived his last years in a small apartment. Unable to afford the taxes on Riverside, the New York mansion was seized by creditors. Schwab died on September 18, 1939 and was buried with his wife in a private mausoleum at Saint Michael’s Cemetery in Loretto (shown in an accompanying photo). He and his wife had no children, although he did have one daughter with one of his mistresses.
Despite his controversial nature, Schwab was highly respected as a businessman by both his peers and his competitors. He appeared on the covers of Time Magazine and Harper’s Weekly, and his management style was cited in Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” In 1928 he was awarded the Bessemer Gold Medal for his outstanding services to the steel industry. The British Institute of Fuel awarded him their Melchett Medal in 1932, and in 1982, some 43 years after his death, he was inducted into the Junior Achievement U.S. Business Hall of Fame. In honor of his lifelong work in the steel industry, he was inducted into the first class of the American Metal Market Steel Hall of Fame in 2011.
Tomorrow: Pat Pecora
Photo credits: Full-length photo – New York Times; magazine covers: time Magazine and Amazon; Immergrun – Amazon; mausoleum – Find-a-Grave and Albert Ledoux
Because today is Veterans’ Day it is only fitting that we have a veteran as the subject of today’s post. And the subject is not just a veteran, he is a Medal of Honor recipient. His name is John Shiel, although his last name has also appeared as Shields and Spiel.
Born in Scotland in May 1828, little is known about John Shiel until he earned his Medal. It isn’t known when he and his family came to the United States, nor is his place of residence known with any degree of certainty. Some sources say he lived in Philadelphia, while others say Cresson, here in Cambria County. Wherever he lived, his actions warrant mentioning him as one of our nation’s most heroic. He earned his Medal of Honor at the Battle of Fredericksburg, Virginia on December 13, 1862.
Shiel joined the 90th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry’s Company E on April 15, 1862 as a corporal. He would transfer to Company F of the 11th Pennsylvania on November 26, 1864. He was still a corporal when he earned his Medal of Honor, although he would eventually be promoted to sergeant. The 90th PVI was in the First Corps of Major General William B. Franklin’s Grand Division, serving in the 2nd Brigade (Colonel Peter Lyle commanding) of Brigadier General John Gibbon’s 2nd Division.
The fighting at Fredericksburg was a four-day battle, lasting from December 11 through December 15, 1862, and it proved to be a bloodbath for the Union army. Two of every three casualties were Union troops. The battle was later described as “a butchery.”
The Union army was under the command of Major General Ambrose E. Burnside and was up against Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. Burnside’s plan was to cross the Rappahannock River over portable pontoon bridges at Fredericksburg and move to Richmond before Lee could get into position to stop him. Those pontoons, however, were delayed, allowing Lee’s troops to get into a position where they could command the crossing points. By the time Burnside got his pontoon bridges into position, his troops came under heavy fire as they crossed and assaulted the Confederate troops in the town on the first two days of the battle.
On December 12, 1862 the 90th Pennsylvania crossed the river about two miles south of the town and soon were engaged with rebel skirmishers. They held their position overnight and on December 13 they moved through the morning fog to form up in the second line of attack against the right of the Confederate line, under General Stonewall Jackson. The troops on the right of the 90th PVI would assault the heavily fortified ridgeline known as Marye’s Heights.
Following a lengthy artillery duel, the fighting became heated. Soon, the 2nd Brigade, including the 90th PVI, was ordered to move forward to relieve the 3rd Brigade. When the 2nd Brigade ran out of ammunition it, in turn, was relieved by the 1st Brigade. As soon as the 2nd Brigade was able to reorganize, it was ordered forward again. The order was said to be “worse than madness.” With their ammunition already running low, the men of the 90th PVI were forced to scavenge ammunition from the cartridge boxes of the dead. Many of them made the charge with empty guns. It would be an unsuccessful assault, with the 90th Pennsylvania suffering heavy losses in killed, wounded and missing. The living were forced to use the dead as shields as they lay on the battlefield waiting until they could safely withdraw. Under the cover of darkness they were able to move to the extreme left of the Union line. They held that position all day on December 14 and 15 until they withdrew from the battlefield entirely during the night of December 15.
At some point during the assault, Shiel performed his act of heroism that would earn him the Medal of Honor. Seeing a wounded comrade, and knowing that anyone left behind would surely be captured, Shiel picked the man up and carried him to a place of safety as the bullets passed all around him. More than 34 years later he received word that he was to be awarded the Medal of Honor. His citation reads, ”The President of the United States of America, in the name of Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Corporal John Shiel (Shields), United States Army, for extraordinary heroism on 13 December 1862, while serving with Company E, 90th Pennsylvania Infantry. In action at Fredericksburg, Virginia, Corporal Shiel carried a dangerously wounded comrade into the Union lines, thereby preventing his capture by the enemy.”
Shiel died on June 11, 1908 and was buried as John Spiel in Greenmount Cemetery in Philadelphia. There is no record explaining why his name appeared in three different spellings.
Tomorrow: World Friendship Series
Photo credits: Medal of Honor photo – Congressional Medal of Honor Society; Battle scene – history.com
31Paula Tomko, Matt Stufft and 29 others
Near the end of the 19th century the Cambria Country Club was organized. In 1920, land became available in what is now the West Hills of Johnstown, and a new club was formed. The members took on the name of Sunnehanna, said to be a Native American name for a local waterway, although I haven’t been able to determine what local stream or river that may have been. Prolific golf course architect Albert Warren Tillinghast, or Tillie as he was most commonly known, was selected to design a new golf course for the club. Tillinghast worked on more than 265 courses in his lifetime, including 26 in Pennsylvania, and although it was early in his career, he was already in great demand. He would be inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame in 2015, and every year since 2003 the Sunnehanna course has been named to the Top 100 Classic Golf Courses in America.
Beginning in 1936 and continuing through 1951 (except for the war years), Sunnehanna Country Club sponsored an invitational men’s golf tournament. Its reputation grew, and in 1949 an 18-year old kid from Latrobe named Arnold Palmer won the tournament. Palmer’s 1951 win, however, was destined to be the final year for the tournament. The country club’s Board of Governors decided to cancel future events, citing the uncontrolled gambling that was so prominent.
Two years later, however, the Board granted permission to the club to sponsor what has since become known as the Sunnehanna Amateur Tournament of Champions. It was the first country club sponsored 72-hole stroke play amateur event in the country. To boost interest in the new tournament, the club invited Don Cherry, a world class golfer and a member of the United States Walker Cup Team, to participate. In addition to being a pretty fair golfer, Cherry was well known as the fiancée of Miss America. He was also a lounge singer in Las Vegas, and the club agreed to allow him to sing as part of each evening’s entertainment. He played well enough to win that year’s inaugural tournament.
He returned to play the next year under the same sing/play agreement, but with a hit record to add to his resume; his “Band of Gold” had sold over 1,000,000 copies. He played well enough to win again, but his Walker Cup teammate, Hillman Robbins from Memphis, played even better. Robbins defeated his friend by one stroke, then went on to win the United States Amateur Championship. His win in that tournament gave credibility to the local event, and amateur golfers around the country began taking notice.
The next year Bill Campbell, of Huntingdon, West Virginia, contacted the country club and suggested that the tournament consider inviting a 26-year old amateur from Columbus, Ohio. The young man passed muster and was invited as a Committee Selection. The kid from Ohio played well enough to finish fifth and go on to have a long career on the PGA tour. His name was Jack Nicklaus, and many consider him to be the greatest player in the history of the game.
Over the years such luminaries in the golf world as Tiger Woods, Davis Love, Phil Mickelson, John Cook, Allen Doyle, Ben Crenshaw, Curtis Strange, Bobby Greenwood, and many others have played in the tourney. In 1968 Greenwood shot an 11 under par 269 to set the course record. That record withstood the attempts of more than 1,000 competitors to beat his score, until 1992. That year, Allen Doyle, from LaGrange, Georgia, not only beat the record, he obliterated it with a 14 under par performance. Doyle, who had won the event three previous times, was also a member of the Walker Cup Team. By winning for the fourth time, he also set a record for most wins in tournament history.
As the name implies, not everyone who wants to play in the tournament can do so. Entrants must have won a championship that is on an approved list, or finished at a high level in any of several other tournaments. Entry is by invitation only, assuring that the field will always be high quality. Those who have played in the tournament have gone on to great things at the professional level: 20 have been named PGA Player of the Year, 14 have been selected as PGA Rookie of the Year, 33 have won U.S. Amateur titles, and 38 have won a combined 89 majors, and 23 majors just since 2000.
Each year the tournament attracts competitors from around the world and is considered one of the best amateur golf events in the country. The tournament is held in such high regard that the winner is automatically invited to the United States Amateur Championship.
Tomorrow: John Shiel, Medal of Honor recipient
Photo credits: Sunnehanna Country Club
In the 1930s James Stoughton, a farmer, artist, and lover of the theater, opened a small sandwich stand on the only road that ran between Johnstown and Somerset, Route PA-985, known better as the Somerset Pike. Times were tough and at times the shop floundered as the Great Depression caused business closures from coast to coast. But Stoughton persevered, and he somehow was able to keep his sandwich shop afloat. As the nation and the area began a painstakingly slow recovery, Stoughton explored ways to get more customers to his shop. After a lot of head-scratching and more than a little anxiety, he hit on an idea. Why not a theater? Not the kind that showed those moving pictures, but one with real live actors and actresses, like he had seen on Broadway. And the idea for the Mountain Playhouse was born. The sandwich shop would grow to become Green Gables, the popular restaurant that adjoins the theater.
To house his theater he found an old gristmill in the town of Roxbury in Somerset County that had been built around 1805 by a miller named Cronin. It had seen better days. Undaunted, Stoughton bought the gristmill, dismantled it, moved it log by log to his farm along the Somerset Pike, and rebuilt it. In 1939 it opened with the play “High Tor.”
As he was preparing for a second season, fire struck the old structure. Stoughton simply replaced the logs that were too damaged and was able to open for another season, albeit it a year later. Today, fire blackened logs can still be seen in the theater area.
When World War II broke out, Stoughton served in the army, but never stopped thinking about his theater. In 1946, following his discharge from the military, he reopened with the help of family members and never looked back. One of his early patrons was a not-yet-famous Jimmy Stewart, who attended a play with his mother.
Over the ensuing years the Mountain Playhouse has entertained theater goers by featuring well-known actors as well as those looking for their first big break. Local actors and actresses often fill important roles, and the theater attracts enthusiastic audiences for dramas, comedies, and musicals throughout each summer.
James Stoughton died in 1972 but his family carried on his legacy. His brother, Bob, constructed a mile-long lake on the property and developed the area around the scenic waterway. For many years the family operated Stoughton Lake Park on the lakefront.
Today the Mountain Playhouse is Pennsylvania’s oldest professional summer stock theater company, one of only 12 professional summer stock theaters still operating in the United States. With seating for nearly 400, it attracts not only local audiences, but also visitors from Pittsburgh, Washington, DC, New York, and other parts of the country. A snack bar provides a scenic lake-side atmosphere for pre-show and intermission relaxation, and an art gallery features the works of area artists.
To ensure that audiences are always treated to professional performances, cast members belong to the Actors’ Equity Association, and directors come from the Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers. Musicians are from the American Federation of Music.
Also on the property is Green Gables, a rustic but elegant restaurant set along lush lawns and stately trees. The restaurant is popular with pre-show dinner customers, and parts of it overlook a natural waterfall. It is often the site for weddings and receptions, class reunions, and tour groups.
The restaurant and theater have come a long way from the days of the old sandwich shop.
Tomorrow: Augustin Flanagan, another Medal of Honor recipient
Photo Credits: Gristmill – Mountain Playhouse; audience – mountainplayhouse.org; modern photo – laurelhighlands.org
St. John Gualbert, for whom the St. John Gualbert Cathedral is named, was born into a wealthy family in Florence, Italy in the year 995. When his brother was murdered, John set out on a quest to avenge his brother’s death. On Good Friday he caught up with the killer, who begged for mercy in the name of the crucified savior. Hearing the man’s pleas, John forgave him. Later, while praying in a monastery, he said he saw the figure of Christ on the crucifix bow his head, a sign that John’s sins had been forgiven. This moved him to become a monk, devoting his life to serving the poor. Once, when he had no bread to offer, an angel was said to replenish his supply. He died July 12, 1073.
The present day St. John Gualbert Cathedral replaces an earlier structure that sat a block away on Jackson Street. That church was destroyed in the 1889 flood, not by the floodwaters, but by fire when a burning house was swept into it. The church, in turn, caught fire and was destroyed. Nine Sisters of Charity in the nearby convent had taken refuge in a small chapel on the second floor when the water struck the building, tearing away about 2/3 of the structure. However, the chapel was spared and the nuns were rescued after a harrowing night.
Altoona architects Louis and M.J. Beezer were selected to design the new church, and construction began August 7, 1895. Their design featured a steel superstructure, the first of its kind. The use of so much steel (590,000 pounds) allowed the cross to be placed at the highest point of the tower even before the cornerstone was laid, and the completion of the roof before the foundation walls of the church were completed.
The cornerstone was placed October 13, 1895 at a ceremony attended by 6,000 people. The 4’ x 7’ stone is hollow in the center and contains, among other mementos, a list of the victims of the 1889 flood. The new church was completed in 1896 at a cost of $75,000.
The dominating feature of the cathedral is the main tower, which was built in imitation of the Italian Campanile in Venice. (It is interesting to note that the Venice campanile collapsed in 1902 and, although reconstruction of the tower began two years later, it wasn’t completely rebuilt until 1912. This makes the St. John Gualbert campanile 18 years older than the one it was modeled after). Soaring 180 feet high, the equivalent of an 18-story building, the tower has an angel frieze near the top that extends around the four sides. The figures represent prayer, humility, aspiration, hope, and music. The smaller, 104 feet-tall tower houses the 3,200-pound church bell. The bell is the same one that occupied the tower of the original church on Jackson Street. When that church was destroyed by the fire in 1889, the bell crashed to the street below, suffering some significant dents. It was taken to the McShane Bell Foundry in Baltimore for repairs. At that time an inscription was added saying, “Broken in Flood, May, 1889. Recast 1890.” The recasting date is a bit misleading, as the recasting was actually completed in November 1889. When the bell was repaired it was placed into storage until it could be placed in the smaller bell tower at the new church. On the dome of the bell tower are four figures symbolizing Christ, the Lion of Judah. Over a window of the tower is a terra cotta representation of the Last Supper.
On the gable facing Clinton Street, between the two towers, stands a statue of St. John Gualbert, patron of the church. On the Locust Street gable (not visible on the accompanying photo) is a statue of St. Rose of Lima, first person in the Americas to be canonized a saint. The original roof was made of earthen Spanish tile but was replaced by slate in 1915. When the roof had to be replaced again in 1994, shingles were used to reduce the roof’s weight.
The original doors were made of quarter-sawn white oak. Those doors were replaced in 1968 with four bronze doors designed and cast in Italy. They depict the four scenes from the life of St. John Gualbert that are discussed in the first paragraph of this post: his forgiveness of the killer, his own forgiveness, the replenishment of his bread supply by an angel, and his death. The doors are shown in the accompanying photos.
The church’s organ was donated to the church in 1897 by Andrew Carnegie. It contains 1,929 pipes. The choir loft contains the studio and control room for the Proclaim! Productions, the cathedral’s television ministry. In 1968 major renovations to the interior were made, in keeping with the post-Vatican II requirements.
A door at the front left of the church provides access to a large room, 32’ x 48’ in size. The original purpose of this room is not certain. Some say it was a chapel, while others say that the room was a carriage house. Today it serves as a shrine.
St. John Gualbert became a cathedral on November 11, 1957.
Johnny Weismuller
Johann Weismuller was born June 2, 1904 to ethnic Germans Peter Weismuller and Elizabeth (Kersch) Weismuller, in Freidorf, Austro-Hungarian Empire. This is part of Timisoara, Romania today. His baptism came just three days later at the St. Rochus Church in Friedorf, where his name was recorded as Janos Weissmuller. He also had a younger brother named Peter.
The family moved to the United States when Johann was only seven months old, arriving at Ellis Island on the SS Rotterdam on January 26, 1905, traveling steerage on the 12-day trip. They went to Chicago where they spent a brief amount of time with relatives, then moved to Windber. On November 5, 1905 Johnny was rebaptized as Peter Johann Weismuller at St. John Cantius Catholic Church in Windber. Five years later the family is shown in the 1910 census as living back in Chicago.
At age nine johnny contracted polio and took up swimming in an effort to strengthen his body. He became good enough to earn a spot on his YMCA swim team. He dropped out of Lane Technical College Prep High school to work at various odd jobs, including lifeguard. He was working as an elevator operator at the Illinois Athletic Club when he began training with coach William Bachrach. In 1921, at age 19, Weismuller won national championships in both the 50-yard and 220-yard distances. Now on the national radar, he applied for a passport so he could compete in the 1924 Paris Olympics. To be sure he was eligible for the USA team he showed his birthplace as Tanneryville, Cambria County, Pennsylvania.
In 1922 he set a new world record in the 100-meter freestyle, a record held by Duke Kahanamoku. He and Kahanamoku would meet again at the Paris Olympics in 1924, with Kahanamoku hoping to take back his record. Instead, Weismuller won again. In addition to winning the gold in the 100-meter freestyle, he also won gold medals in the 400-meter freestyle and as a member of the 4 x 200-meter relay team. Turning his attention to water polo, he won a bronze medal as part of the US team that same year. In the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics he won two more gold medals after setting another world record in 1927 in the 100-meter freestyle, a record that would stand for 17 years.
In his illustrious amateur career he never lost a race. Along the way he won five Olympic gold medals and one bronze, and 52 US national championships. He set 67 world records and was the first man to swim the 100-meter freestyle in less than a minute, and the 440-yard freestyle in less than five minutes. He set another world record at age 36 at the 1940 Billy Rose World’s Fair Aquacade but the record was not recognized because he was competing as a professional. He later moved to the Bel Air neighborhood in Los Angeles, where he commissioned the architect of his home to include a 300-foot serpentine poll that wrapped around the house. The home and pool still stand.
In 1929 he signed a contract with BVD to travel around the country and promote the company’s line of swimwear. He also began appearing in motion pictures, mostly in short subjects. His acting career really began when he signed a seven-year contract with MGM to play the role of Tarzan. He immediately became an international sensation. Weismuller starred as Tarzan in six movies for MGM, then for six more for RKO, earning more than $2,000,000 and becoming what movie historians consider the best Tarzan of the six actors who played the role.
After retiring as Tarzan Weismuller made 13 films as Jungle Jim for Columbia Pictures. He also played Jungle Jim in 26 television episodes for Screen Gems.
His athleticism was not limited to swimming, however. He was also an accomplished golfer and played in two official PGA Tour tournaments, missing the cut at the 1937 Canterbury Open and finishing 37th at the 1948 Hawaiian Open. missing the cut at the 1937 Canterbury Open and finishing 37th at the 1948 Hawaiian Open.
In 1950 Weismuller was selected as the greatest swimmer of the first half of the 20th century by the Associated Press. He became a businessman and retired in 1965, moving to Florida and becoming the founding chairman of the International Swimming Hall of Fame. Over the next several years he made a number of mostly forgettable films, appearing in his last one in 1976. His last public appearance came later that same year when he was inducted into the Body Building Hall of Fame.
Weismuller was married five times and had three children, as well as a stepdaughter. In 1974 Weismuller broke his hip and leg, resulting in a gradual deterioration in his health. He developed a serious heart condition, then had a series of strokes. On January 20, 1984 Johnny Weismuller passed away from pulmonary edema. He was buried in the Valley of Light Cemetery in Acapulco, where he had lived his final days. As his casket was being lowered into the ground, a recording of his famed Tarzan yell was played, at his request, followed by a 21-gun salute arranged by Senator Ted Kennedy and President Ronald Reagan.
Among his many honors was a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the George Eastman Award for distinguished contribution to the art of film. The Piscitine Molitor in Paris, an elaborate swimming complex and elegant hotel, was built in his honor.
Tomorrow: St. John Gualbert Cathedral
Photo credit: Library of Congress
Today’s subject, Prince Gallitzin, has been suggested by several of my Catholic friends. Although I had heard of Prince Gallitzin, mostly because of the local state park named for him, I have to admit that I didn’t really know much about him. After researching his life, I think he is a very worthy subject. I hope you agree.
Demetrius Augustine Gallitzin was born December 22, 1770 in The Hague into one of the wealthiest families in Russia. His father, Prince Demetrius Gallitzin, was the Russian ambassador to the Netherlands when young Demetrius was born. His mother was a countess, his grandmother was a baroness, and his grandfather was the famed cartographer and Prussian field marshal Samuel Graf von Schmettau. As a youth the young prince was a close friend of Frederick William, who would eventually become King of the Netherlands and Duke of Luxembourg.
To please his mother, Demetrius became a sincere Catholic at the age of 16, with his first Holy Communion on August 28, 1786, the day of the feast of St. Augustine. He took the name of Augustine in the saint’s honor, calling himself Augustine Smith as a sign of humility, rather than using his title of Prince. Upon finishing school he was appointed an aide-de-camp to the Austrian General Georg von Lillien, but rather than pursuing a military career he left Rotterdam on August 18, 1792 on a two-year journey around the world. He landed in Baltimore on October 28, 1792 and made the decision to stay in America. Seeing the needs of the church in this country, he vowed to devote his life to saving souls in America. He became a priest, believing that would be the best way to accomplish that, with his ordination coming on March 18, 1795.
The next year he found himself in Conewago, Pennsylvania, where he received a sick-call to attend a Mrs. John Burgoon, a Protestant living 150 miles away in McGuire’s Settlement in Cambria County. Founded by Captain Michael McGuire, a Revolutionary War officer, the settlement was surrounded by wilderness, with the nearest neighbors some 20 miles away. When Demetrius Gallitzin, now Father Gallitzin, arrived in McGuire’s Settlement, he learned that Mrs. Burgoon wished to become a Catholic before she died. He assisted Mrs. Burgoon in achieving her wish.
At that same time, Father Gallitzin conceived the idea of forming a Catholic settlement in the area. He used his personal fortune to purchase land adjacent to McGuire’s Settlement and received permission from Bishop John Carroll to settle there permanently. Using pine trees from the surrounding forest, he constructed a log home and church. He financed the building of sawmills, tanneries, and gristmills, as well as homes for many of those moving into his parish, never receiving payment for many of these. He took in orphans and personally assisted the needy with his own money, or with produce from his farm’s crops. As his congregation grew, he tore down the log church and built a larger one that would serve the congregation until 1853. In the process he became known as the Pioneer Priest of the Alleghenies, and several years later he would name his Catholic colony Loretto, after the city of Loreto in Italy.
For 14 years Prince was known as Augustine Smith, even signing his legal papers and the parish records with that name. By now he was becoming the target of many who questioned his motives and attacked his honor. On more than one occasion he had been the victim of physical assaults. Fearing legal problems from his detractors, he approached the Pennsylvania legislature, requesting that all acts and purchases made under the name Augustine Smith be validated, and that he be permitted to resume the use of his given name. On December 16, 1809, his request was granted.
He never took a salary in the 41 years he served his pastorate, and for half that time he labored alone, with no other priest to assist him. He publicly defended the principles of his faith and continued his mission as the Catholic population of Loretto grew to nearly 4,000. Gallitzin accrued $150,000 in debt in the building of Loretto, a debt he intended to pay off with his inheritance. He was unaware, however, that the Russian government had disinherited him for becoming a priest. His sister and brother-in-law squandered whatever money was left, and in 1827 Father Gallitzin was forced to appeal to the public for donations. One of those who sent a $200 donation was Cardinal Cappellari, who would later become Pope Gregory XVI.
On May 6, 1840, Demetrius Gallitzin died. He was buried according to his wishes, at a point about halfway between his home and his church, which were only 30 feet apart. In 1847 his remains were disinterred and reburied closer to town. A monument made from blocks of mountain stone was used to mark the grave. In 1891 his remains were removed from the deteriorating wood coffin and placed into a more substantial metal casket. Eight years later the earlier stone monument was topped with a granite cap. On top of that a bronze statue of Prince Gallitzin was placed. The statue was donated by steel magnate Charles M. Schwab.
Tomorrow: Johnny Weismuller
Photo credits: Portrait – Wikipedia; others – Atlas Obscura
Today’s post discusses a local event that took place in 2002 that was followed eagerly for four days by anxious audiences around the world. That event was the Quecreek Mine Rescue. Because of its length I will be posting it in two parts. Today is the first installment.
On Wednesday afternoon of July 24, 2002 18 coal miners entered the Black Wolf Coal Company’s Quecreek Mine in Lincoln Township, ready to begin their 3-11 shift. The mood was as lighthearted as anyone’s mood can be when he is going to work. None of these men knew as they entered the portal that half of them would not be coming out for several days.
The shift was uneventful until about 9:00 pm, as the men toiled some 240 feet below the surface of the Dormel Farm. Suddenly, water began pouring through the coal face of the 1-Left panel at an alarming rate. But that couldn’t be. There was supposed to be several hundred feet between Quecreek Mine and the abandoned Saxman Coal’s Harrison Number 2 mine, at least on the maps where the old mine was even shown. Obviously, those maps were wrong. The nine men in 1-Left began to evacuate, with Dennis Hall calling their co-workers in 2-Left panel over the mine’s phone system, warning them to also evacuate immediately. The nine men in 2-Left were able to exit the mine and alert others, making a call to 9-1-1 at 9:53 pm.
Meanwhile, the 1-Left crew realized that the mine was flooding too rapidly for them to evacuate. They attempted to reach a shaft that would allow them to get out but failed on two occasions as the water rose and filled the four-feet high tunnels. Before the water stopped rising, an estimated 65 to 75 million gallons would have entered from the mine that they didn’t know was there.
Within 30 minutes rescuers were mobilized. The news media were directed to a local church, while families of the missing miners were contacted by telephone and asked to assemble at the Sipesville fire hall. A minister agreed to stay the night with the families so a spiritual leader would be immediately available if he was needed. Calls were made seeking a drill that could bore a hole large enough to pull men out. Around midnight one was located I Clarksburg, West Virginia. A 6-1/2” borehole was drilled so that air could be pumped into the mine where the nine missing men were believed to be. When the drill broke through at about 5:00 am compressed air was immediately started. Tests on the return air showed that it contained 19.3% oxygen. Normal air contains 21%, and anything below 19.5% is considered oxygen deficient. At 19.3% the men, if still alive, would be breathing faster, their heartbeats were probably accelerating, their ability to think and their coordination was probably becoming impaired. Within minutes of pumping the air into the mine, rescue workers pounded on the air pipe and were elated when they heard three answering taps. No further responses were heard again until nearly noon, when answering taps resumed.
As air continued to pump into the mine, measurements indicated that the air quality was improving. Other measurements, however, showed the water level still rising despite the ongoing effort to pump the water out. The hole around the air supply pipe was sealed to create a pressurized air pocket for the miners. Unknown to the rescuers the increased noise was painful to the trapped men but they took hope in realizing that their rescuers apparently knew where they had taken refuge.
More pumps arrived, and eventually the water level began to slowly go down. Additional holes were drilled to aid in the dewatering effort, but the water had reached a level where the nine men entrapped could no long pound on the pipe to signal the rescue crew. For a while they pounded on the ceiling of their tiny space until they were forced to move to a higher area. They were now farther from the rising water, but the move took them 300 feet from their air supply. One of the men, Randy Fogle, calculated that they had about one hour to live. Prayers were said, last notes to their families were written and placed inside lunch pails in the hope that the pails would be found someday, and the men tied themselves together with rope so none would drift away.
Eventually, one of them noticed that the water was no longer rising. Although soaking wet and in danger of lapsing into hypothermia, survival mode kicked in. They sat back to back to conserve body heat, and Fogle, who was the crew chief, did his best to keep up their spirits. Then, someone noticed that Dennis Hall’s lunch pail had begun to drift off. It was quickly retrieved, and Hall remembered that he still had a corned beef sandwich inside. When the pail was opened the sandwich was still dry, and as a bonus, Hall’s wife had placed a can of Pepsi in with the sandwich. It wasn’t much, but the sandwich and Pepsi gave them hope. Soon, Thomas Foy discovered two cans of Mountain Dew on a nearby machine, adding to the menu.
Tomorrow: Part 2 of the Quecreek Mine Rescue
Photo credits: Statue – Quecreek Mine Rescue Foundation; Historical marker – Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission
yesterday we talked about the entrapment of nine coal miners at the Quecreek Mine in Lincoln Township. Today’s post will continue the story of the amazing rescue operation.
Meanwhile, the 30-inch “Super Drill” had arrived from West Virginia with a police escort. Also arriving on the scene was Governor Mark Schweiker, who promised the families that he would update them every hour, even if there was nothing specific to report. Drilling began at 6:45 pm Thursday, July 25, some 22 hours after the water began pouring into 1-Left. At 1:00 am Friday, just six hours after beginning drilling, the bit broke, dashing hopes for a quick rescue. A call was put through to West Virginia for a new bit while the broken one was fished from the drill hole. When the broken bit was removed three hours after it had broken and shut down operations, it was discovered that a piece remained in the hole. A special tool would be needed to get it out. Under normal conditions, it would take three to four days to make the tool, but these weren’t normal conditions. A Jefferson County machine shop said they could fabricate the piece in three hours. The shop made good on its word, and a National Guard helicopter flew the tool in and the broken piece was removed from the hole at 4:00 in the afternoon on Friday, July 26, as messages of encouragement came in from around the world.
Drilling resumed on the 30-inch rescue hole at about 8:30 on Friday evening, but was halted when the cutting bits were damaged. At 3:30 am on Saturday, July 27 the decision was made to use a 26” drill, rather than wait until a new 30” bit assembly could be brought in. The smaller hole would still be adequate to accommodate a rescue capsule, and a 26” drill was available in Somerset, just seven miles away. The bit was brought in and installed and drilling resumed at 6:30 am. It had now been nearly 58 hours since the men had been entrapped.
Drilling was halted again at about 1:30 pm to install an airlock that would aid in preventing decompression sickness (the Bends) when the men were brought up. Drilling resumed three hours later but once again had to be halted shortly after 8:00 pm when the rings in the air lock failed. It would only take 45 minutes to make repairs, but every minute seemed like hours at this point. While repairs were in progress, 10 portable hyperbaric chambers arrived to aid in decompressing the men as they were brought up. At 10:15 that night, the rescue shaft drill broke through into the mine. Drilling on a second hole, to be used if the first couldn’t be completed, was halted.
Inside, the men had been taking turns walking the 250 feet to where the sounds of the drilling were heard, to check the progress. Foy and Ron Hileman reached the area at just about the same time the drill broke through. Their head lamps were almost out of power.
A small communication device was lowered into the hole and for the first time those on the surface knew for certain that the trapped men were still alive. A child’s glow stick was attached to provide the men with light. The good news was relayed to the families at the fire hall. All nine were well except for Fogle, who was experiencing chest pains.
At 12:30 am on Sunday, July 28, an 8-foot steel mesh escape capsule was lowered into the mine, complete with supplies. Because of his chest pains, Randy Fogle was extracted first, arriving on the surface to cheers and applause at about 1:00 am. The rest followed one at a time at about 15-minute intervals. First, Harry “Blaine” Mayhugh, Jr., followed in succession by Thomas “Tucker” Foy, John Unger, John Phillippi, Ron Hileman, Dennis Hall, Robert Pugh, Jr., and Mark Popernack. The men were cold, wet, and hungry, but in remarkably good condition except for Fogle. All were transported to Memorial Medical Center for decompression and treatment, and all would fully recover.
An investigation by the federal Mine Safety and Health Administration led to the conclusion that a certified map of the Harrison Number 2 mine showing the final mine workings had never been filed with the Pennsylvania mine map repository. The investigation praised the nine miners for working as a team and making good decisions throughout the ordeal.
Today, the rescue site is marked by a small memorial park on the Dornell Farm, and several books, including one by the miners themselves, were written about the event. In 2002, a television movie was aired on ABC dramatizing the incident and the subsequent rescue, followed by two documentaries in 2010, one on Bio and the other on the Discovery Channel. The phrase “Nine for Nine” could be heard on local streets for months afterward.
Three events happened related to the rescue in 2003, two happy and one sad. On the happy side, The Dropkick Murphys included a song on their album “Blackout” as a tribute to the rescue, and singer-songwriter Anais Mitchell did the same on her album “Hymns for the Exiled.” Sadly, though, rescuer Bob Long took his own life after suffering from depression and PTSD since the rescue.
Of the rescued miners, eight chose to never work inside a mine again. The only one who returned to work underground, ironically, was Randy Fogle, whose chest pains were the only negative symptoms suffered by any of the nine.
Tomorrow; Prince Gallitzen
Photo credits: Rescue photo: Tribune-Democrat; Miner statue: Somerset County Chamber of Commerce
There aren’t many cities that can boast that an entirely new church denomination was formed there. Johnstown can lay claim to that honor. But before we get to that, let’s go back more than a century and talk about the church where it happened.
In 1838 a group of about 24 people began holding meetings in the various homes represented in the group, following teachings of the United Brethren in Christ denomination. The United Brethren in Christ was a German-speaking denomination that was influenced by Methodism and Pietism. The group continued meeting in this manner for five years until they organized a full-fledged church with a membership of 10. The next year, they built a small chapel at the corner of Main and Jackson Streets. That chapel served the congregation for 24 years until it was sold and a new stone church was built at Vine and Stonycreek Streets. That church was known as First United Brethren Church.
In 1889 the church was one of the few buildings downtown to survive the Johnstown Flood, although the parsonage was swept about a mile down river, leading to a new parsonage being built next to the church. The congregation continued to grow until it had become too large for the existing building. In 1910 the Old Stone Church was razed and a new facility was built on the site, with dedication taking place on November 24, 1912.
In 1936 another major flood struck Johnstown, and again, even though it was now a different building, the First United Brethren Church stood strong, just as her predecessor had done.
Meanwhile, conversations about merging had been taking place off and on since 1813 with another German-speaking denomination, the Evangelical Church. It would take more than 100 years, but conversations became more serious and more frequent in 1924, although nothing was actually done to bring about a merger, despite the common backgrounds and beliefs the two denominations shared. Then, in 1946, the two decided that it was time to do something about it.
In November of that year, delegates from the United Brethren in Christ came to Johnstown from around the country to meet as a group at First Church. Similarly, delegates from the Evangelical Church also came to Johnstown and met at Beulah Dale Evangelical Church. Each met for three days, with the delegates from each agreeing to meet at the First United Brethren Church, a meeting that took place on November16, 1946. Formal declaration of union was read by Bishop A. R. Clippinger, followed by the new congregation singing “Blest Be The Tie That Binds,” the first hymn sung by the new denomination. The new church then celebrated its first Holy Communion together as the Evangelical United Brethren Church (EUB). A medallion above the altar in the sanctuary dome shows the hands of Bishops Clippinger and Stamm clasped in a symbolic joining of hands of the two former denominations.
Membership in the new denomination grew to 750,000, with the Johnstown District being one of the largest. The First Evangelical United Brethren Church, which really was the first, continued to make history when the Women’s Society of World Service was organized with a mission to spread the gospel throughout the world.
In 1968 the EUB Church merged again, this time with the Methodist Church. The new denominations took on the name of the United Methodist Church. A year later, with this church now bearing the name of First United Methodist Church, yet another merger took place in the historic building. At that time the former Evangelical United Brethren Conference merged with the former Methodist Conference of Western Pennsylvania, forming the Western Pennsylvania Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church.
On July 20,1977 the historic old building survived yet another flood. Although the basement filled with water up to the ceiling, the congregation banded together, cleaned out the mud and debris, and resumed services.
In 1996 the General Conference of the United Methodist Church designated the historic First Church a Heritage Landmark of the United Methodist Church. Throughout the world there are only 39 such landmarks, and First Church of Johnstown is one of the few that still houses a worshiping, working congregation.
Thanks to my Pastor, John Mize of Westmont United Methodist Church, for suggesting this topic, and to First Church for providing the historical information.
Tomorrow: Quecreek Mine Rescue, Part 1
Photo credits: First United Methodist Church
Have you ever heard of Daniel Rose? No? Well, I never did either. That is, until E. J. Oleksak tipped me off and suggested I do a post about him. When I started looking into his story I was amazed. So . . . guess who today’s post is about? Thank you, Jane, for the suggestion, and the rest of you, buckle up and enjoy the ride.
Daniel and his twin sister, Lovina, were born in Johnstown on February 25, 1871 to Samuel and Annie Eash Rose. Daniel was no different than other boys, full of energy and always up for a good time. Unlike his twin sister, he didn’t care much for school, so he was fine with the lax truancy rules of the day. To Daniel, education was for the other kids.
When he was only eight years old, however, he was stricken with rheumatism. His mother took care of him when he was younger, but she died when he was 13. His father had all he could do to earn a living and take care of all nine children in the family. But Daniel’s joy of life was not diminished. At the age of 15 he trained a team of oxen, then hitched them up and pulled his brothers and sisters around the family farm on a home-made bobsled, taking great pleasure in starting the team off with a crack of the whip so all his passengers would be thrown off the sled. He did what he could to help on the family farm in Elton until he was 18, but the disease got worse with each passing year until by the age of nineteen Daniel was crippled. His neck was so stiff he could barely hold his head up, and turning his head was impossible. He looked at the world sideways with one eye. He was now an invalid except for his forearms and one hand.
Daniel had been helping his father in the family sawmill when he was eight years old, so he had grown up loving the smell of wood and the opportunity to work with his hands. It was only natural that, to occupy his time, he took up whittling. But he didn’t just whittle away at sticks; he made things. He trained himself to make wooden chains from a single piece of wood. Then he began making small replicas of tools, then folding fans. Then one night he had a dream that he could carve the same kinds of things but carve them in a bottle. He had seen ships in bottles, so how was that any different? Soon, he was carving a small chair and maneuvering it into a bottle. It was long, slow work, and it required an enormous amount of patience, but so what? What else did he have to do?
After the chair he began other carvings, all more intricate than anything he had ever done. Skeptics doubted that he could get the pieces through the small neck of the bottle, saying he must have a false bottom on the bottles. All they had to do to be convinced, however, was to watch him work, carving each piece in great detail, then slipping them into the bottle where he assembled them. They left his shop, shaking their heads in amazement.
As he got better at his craft the carvings became more elaborate. First, Noah’s ark, complete with two of every animal, just like Noah. Then, miniature replicas of all the world’s great musical instruments, followed by a bottle containing replicas of all the tools a carpenter used. He carved an entire miniature village in action form, using hidden springs to make the figures move. His village had women hanging out clothes, men pumping water from wells or sawing wood, and bicycles on the streets. One memorable scene in the display showed a woman chasing a mouse, attempting to hit it with her broom. When the mouse runs into a hole, the woman waits for it to come out the other side, whereupon she strikes the rodent with the broom. He sold his work at prices ranging from fifty cents to $100. Today, collectors pay thousands of dollars for his carvings in bottles.
He studied the Bible, claiming that he read it in its entirety seven times, and the New Testament 31 times. In 1900 he was baptized into the Mennonite faith. Many of his carvings took on religious themes. He became known as the Champion Whittler of the United States.
On Sunday, June 26, 1921 friends took Daniel and his sister to church. On the way home the car collided with another vehicle, throwing Daniel out onto the street with both legs broken and severe internal injuries. He would live only for about three more hours. He was buried in the Weaver Cemetery, off Eisenhower Boulevard in Richland.
Tomorrow: First United Methodist Church
Photo Credits: Folk Art in a Bottle
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We all learned in school about slavery, and the efforts of many slaves to escape and make their ways northward to freedom. In 1850 the U.S. Congress passed the Fugitive Slave Act that required that escaped slaves be returned to their owners, even if they had reached the safety of a free state. The act also placed the responsibility on the government for finding and returning slaves to their owners. Provisions were included in the act for harsh punishment for anyone who assisted the slaves or interfered with authorities attempting to recapture them.
In response to what many felt was unfair legislation, the clandestine network of people willing to assist escaped slaves reach freedom quickly expanded. That network, started in the 1820s, had become known as the Underground Railroad, with Quakers leading the effort. The network was not really a railroad system, nor did it operate underground. The word “underground” took hold because of its secretive nature, while “railroad” simply referred to moving runaways to safe areas in the northern states or Canada.
Continuing the underground railroad theme, people known as conductors were used to guide the runaways. Private homes, churches, and even schools became hiding places, known as stations. Those who operated the stations were called stationmasters. Johnstown became an important part of the overall network.
One of the main entry points into Pennsylvania was Bedford County, with Fishertown becoming a central location for redirecting the runaways either through Somerset or Cambria Counties toward Clearfield, the next relay point. From Fishertown the route went through either Hollidaysburg or Pleasantville. The Pleasantville route directed them to Elton and Geistown, most often to the farm of William Slick, the local station. The Slick farm was located where the Geistown Cloverleaf is today, and Slick was the stationmaster. Slick would utilize the services of local conductors such as Abraham Barker, William Barnett, John Cushon, James Heslop, Charlotte Heslop, Henry Wills, John Myers, Wallace Fortune, Isaac Weatherington, Frederick Kaylor, Benjamin Slick, George Atcheson and John Manion.
From Geistown, a conductor moved the runaway slaves the four miles into Johnstown, a significant distance in those days, particularly for those not wanting to be seen. There, a network of free blacks and abolitionists took over, moving them either to Indiana County or to Ebensburg. Those going to Ebensburg often stopped in Wilmore, a town founded by free black Godfrey Wilmore. Once in Ebensburg, the route took them to Clearfield. Some runaways pushed on toward Canada while others opted to stay and take their chances in any one of the northern “free” states.
No record has been found to indicate how many runaway slaves made their way through Johnstown, but one particular dramatic escape has been documented that gives us some idea of what the journey must have been like. On February 12, 1837, two slaves named Abraham and Patrick escaped from Col. John Sherrod’s Fruit Hill Farm in Bath, Virginia. Slave hunters John Compston and Edward Maxwell, hoping to collect the bounty for catching them, quickly began pursuit.
The first night after reaching Pennsylvania, Abraham and Patrick made it to Bloody Run, known today as Everett, where they spent the night in a safe house. The next day, possibly near evening to take advantage of the darkness, they followed an Indian Trail known as Warrior’s Path, to Bucks Town (today’s St. Clairsville), where they spent some time at the home of a free black before moving on. At the George Heltzel (Helsel) home, near Paint Township, Heltzel shot Abraham in the knee and Patrick in the back. Unknown to the runaways, Heltzel was working with Compston and Maxwell. It was Heltzel who took Abraham and Patrick to the next farm, William Slick’s, for treatment.
Slick treated their wounds, fed them, and took them to Constable Sam J. Smith’s office in Smith’s tavern on Clinton Street. Smith locked them up, and it is not known whether he did that to hold them for the slave catchers, or to protect them. Smith’s name does not appear on any list of underground railroad conductors, but it is unlikely that Slick would have trusted the runaways to Smith’s care if he thought Smith would turn them over to their pursuers.
For whatever reason, Smith held the two for several days. While in Smith’s custody, the two complained about their injuries to anyone who was near. They made it sound as if they were dying, and nobody was the wiser. Then, one morning, the two were missing. Speculation was that the two had been smuggled out of the city, hidden in a hay wagon and taken over Hinkston Run Road to Ebensburg. Smith claimed no knowledge of how they escaped his custody, but they would not be seen in the area again.
On June 14, 2014 a Pennsylvania historical marker was placed at the site of the Slick farm near the Geistown Cloverleaf to commemorate the escape.
Tomorrow: Daniel Rose (you’ll love his story)
Photo credits: Pennsylvania Historic Marker Database, Sandyvale historical marker
Following his overthrow by extremists under the Ayatollah Khomeini in the fall of 1979, the shah of Iran came to the United States for cancer treatment. Furious that the shah was now out of the reach of the new rulers, on November 4, 1979 a mob of Iranians stormed the United States embassy in Tehran, destroying property and seizing 66 American hostages. The hostages were held for several days without the release of any information on their conditions or whereabouts. Finally, the extremists released all the female and African-American hostages, followed later by a man who was released because of a medical condition, leaving 52 in the hands of the Iranians. One of those was 38-year old Master Sergeant Regis Ragan, from Johnstown.
The hostages were blindfolded and paraded in front of television cameras in an effort to humiliate and intimidate them. Off camera they were tortured. Some were lined up against a wall for mock executions by firing squad. Others were forced to play Russian roulette. One was told that his mother had died, even though she hadn’t. At least one was placed in solitary confinement for nine months. Mail from home was denied, and Christmas packages were placed in a pile and burned. Anyone who tried to escape was beaten with a rubber hose.
The Iranian version of WWII’s Tokyo Rose, a young woman who had lived in the Philadelphia area as a child and therefore had a command of the English language, was particularly irritating to the hostages. They referred to her as “Screaming Mary” and “Mother Mary.” She loved to saunter through the captured embassy, a propaganda camera crew following, and say to the hostages with the cameras running, “You have been treated well, haven’t you.” Near the end of their captivity Ragan had reached his limit with Screaming Mary and began shouting expletives and insults back at her. As soon as the cameras were turned off, Ragan was dragged out of the room by the guards and badly beaten.
On April 25, 1980, a secret military mission, to be known as Operation Eagle Claw, was sent to rescue the hostages. Delta Force commandos were flown by helicopter to a location outside Tehran, which was to serve as the launching point for the rescue mission. At the same time, C-130 transport planes were dispatched to the rendezvous point, Desert One, where the refueling was to be done. Two helicopters were forced to drop out when a sandstorm caused mechanical problems. A third chopper developed a hydraulic leak and was dropped from the mission. The loss of these three helicopters made the chance for success very unlikely, and the mission was scrubbed, but shortly after the decision to abort the mission was made, a fourth helicopter collided with a C-130 transport plane loaded with fuel, killing eight men.
The rest escaped the explosion and fire, but the mission’s failure meant the hostages would remain in the hands of their captors until January 20, 1981, 444 days after they had been captured. When they were finally released they were taken to Weisbaden Hospital in Germany to receive physical exams and to undergo debriefing. While there, Sgt. Ragan was photographed as he stood on a hospital balcony with other hostages as they watched a concert presented by the German Childrens’ Chorus on the street below. Ragan is on the extreme left of the photo, which is a part of this post. On January 25, 1981 they were flown home to the United States.
Upon arriving in New York, Sgt. Ragan immediately split off from the group and flew home to Johnstown to be with his ill mother, Anna. He would later rejoin the group at a White House reception hosted by President Reagan. In one of the accompanying photos, the group photo after their release, Sgt. Ragan can be seen near the middle of the second row, just left of the man in the white shirt.
Sgt. Ragan was honored by a parade in Johnstown that was attended by thousands who wanted to see the local hero. One of those cheering was his mother, who watched from the window of her hospital room in Lee Hospital’s coronary care unit. The parade was routed in such a way that it passed the hospital twice so she could get a second look at her son.
Later, Congress authorized payment of $4,400,000 to each former hostage, representing $10,000 for each day they were held. The money was to come from a fund established from fines assessed against banks and other organizations that did business illegally or defied sanctions against Sudan, Iran, and Cuba. However, that amount was reduced when victims of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks were added to the list of those to receive funds.
Sgt. Ragan would be awarded the Prisoner of War Medal and the Legion of Merit for, as his Legion of Merit citation stated, “. . . his exceptionally meritorious conduct.” He was promoted to sergeant-major and assigned to the protocol office at the Army War College in Carlisle. When interviewed, he was reluctant to discuss his ordeal, as most of the hostages were. He said, “I’m in the Army. Other than that I would prefer not to say anything.”
Tomorrow: Underground Railroad
Photo credits: Ragan on balcony – National Archives; Group photo – KGOU.org
The American elm, also known as the white elm or water elm, is one of America’s favorite trees. At one time, nearly every main street in the country had a stand of them. In fact, most towns also had an Elm Street, named for the popular tree that often lined both sides of the street. Extremely hardy, the American elm can withstand temperatures as low as -40o Farenheit. It is native to North America and is comfortable growing in most soil types, but it grows best in rich bottomlands, stream banks, or other well drained soils. It commonly grows to be 100 feet tall or more and can live for several hundred years under the right conditions. One such tree grew along the Sauble River in Ontario, Canada to a height of 140 feet. When it was felled in 1968 a count of its tree-rings indicated that it had germinated in 1701.
Sounds like the ideal tree, right? Well, it was until 1930, when the first case of Dutch elm disease in the United States was found in Cleveland. The disease was believed to have entered the country in a shipment of logs from France. Within two years it had spread across Pennsylvania and was killing trees in New Jersey.
Dutch elm disease is a wilt fungus that thrives in the sapwood of the American elm. Its name comes from the fact that it was discovered in the Netherlands in 1921. Within just a few years, elms across central and southern Europe were dying from the fungus. In the United States, an estimated 77,000,000 trees had fallen victim by 1970.
Research has shown that the fungus spreads underground from the roots of a diseased tree to any other trees in the immediate area. When planted along the side of a street in a continuous row, as many towns had done, one diseased tree could start a chain reaction that spread from tree to tree until the entire row was decimated. It was also found to be transmitted by two different kinds of beetles that tunnel under the bark. Places that thought they were combating the disease by spraying fungicides soon learned that that was only half the battle. It killed the fungus but the tree still died from the beetles. It wasn’t long until the American elm was nearly a thing of the past.
We are extremely fortunate here in Johnstown to have a large stand of American elms still living on Luzerne street in Westmont. A survey has shown that Westmont has 3,285 shade trees in the borough, representing 42 different species, including the American elm. With the borough’s size marked at 2.4 square miles, it isn’t hard to see that the concentration of shade trees is much higher than in most municipalities.
Of those 3,285 shade trees, there are 195 American elm trees planted on either side of Luzerne Street, plus another 15 on other local streets. The Luzerne Street stand runs for nearly 3200 feet, or 6/10 of a mile, and represents the longest municipally owned continuous stand of American elms in the country. Luzerne street is also considered the last cathedral-arched boulevard in the United States. It is considered the borough’s standout feature, bigger than the Inclined Plane, Stackhouse Park, or any other feature, natural or manmade.
Understandably, Westmont is extremely protective of the elms, with those who live along Luzerne Street especially so. Where many people take a pie or cake to introduce a newcomer to their neighborhood, it has been said that those on Luzerne Street greet those moving in with a list of symptoms of Dutch elm disease to watch for. While this is probably an exaggeration, the elms may be the most closely monitored group of trees in the country. Because of the precarious status of the elms, the borough has an active program for checking and treating the trees at the first sign of disease.
Westmont also has a plan for replacing trees that may fall victim. Private citizens or organizations may purchase an elm to be planted in memory of a deceased loved one or to commemorate some special personal milestone. Donations cover all costs associated with the planting and care of the tree, along with the choice of location site, where possible. Donors also receive a memento of their donation and an engraved leaf will be placed on a permanent plaque in the Westmont Municipal Building.
Yes, Westmont takes the health of their American elms seriously.
Tomorrow: Sgt. Regis Ragan, Iran hostage
As Johnstown grew in the 1800s, local citizens saw a need for a for some sort of public transportation system. On April 12, 1882 a group formed the Johnstown Street Railway Company, and within three months the group had agreements with the city and surrounding boroughs to place tracks from Coopersdale to Woodvale, with others being laid on Broad Street in Cambria City, Franklin Street, and to Hornerstown via Bedford and Baumer Streets.
On April 10, 1883 six two-horse passenger cars made the first trial run on the new rails, covering an eight mile route in 90 minutes. With a five cent fare, the line carried 500,000 passengers by the end of the year. The company prospered until 1889 when the flood tore out the rails and destroyed the horse-drawn system.
Immediately another group, headed by Tom Johnson, acquired the franchise for the Johnstown Passenger Railway Company and began building a modern electric trolley system. Johnson was president and part owner of the Johnson Company, a manufacturer of trolley rails and switching equipment. Johnson and his company were highlighted in a post a short time ago about the Moxham National Historic District.
On November 1, 1890 the first electric trolly car began operation. The service caught on, and in 1901 routes were opened that serviced Franklin, Woodvale, Cambia City, Hornerstown, Moxham, Ferndale, Dale, Walnut Grove, and Roxbury Park. Downtown, trolleys operated on Main, Washington, Walnut, and Market streets. The company reorganized on February 23, 1910, calling itself the Johnstown Traction Company (JTC).
Meanwhile, a smaller company, the Johnstown and Somerset Traction Company, saw an opportunity. Recognizing that areas that had trolley service prospered while those with no service struggled, the company prepared to provide service between Scalp Level, Paint Creek Valley, and downtown Johnstown. To do that, however, permission would be needed to use part of the Johnstown Traction Company system. Perhaps fearing the competition, the request was turned down.
The Johnstown Traction Company apparently recognized the potential for the routes they had turned down, however, and purchased the Johnstown and Somerset Traction Company and began operating the routes they had rejected, adding a route to Windber as well. By 1918 JTC was operating 108 cars over nearly 36 miles of track. Two years late the company adopted the familiar Omaha Orange and Panama Tan color combination.
In 1922 JTC formed a subsidiary company, the Traction Bus Company. This subsidiary operated buses that connected with existing streetcar routes, beginning with a route from the Dale trolley loop through Geistown to Windber.
With operations affected by the 1936 flood, the Windber line was abandoned. Determining that buses were the wave of the future, the company merged its bus subsidiary into the parent company and began converting trolley routes to bus routes. The Inclined Plane was rebuilt to carry heavier loads, and hourly bus service was added to Westmont. The company then converted the entire Dale route to bus operation on August 2, 1940.
World War II caused the Office of Defense Transportation to order a 20% reduction in bus service to save gasoline and tires, just as the company was experiencing an increase in ridership. Still, in 1943, at the peak of the war, JTC carried an all-time high of 17,047,406 passengers. The war also created a shortage of bus drivers, and women began to train to drive the buses. While Rosie the Riveter got the publicity, Betty the Bus Driver took Rosie the Riveter to work.
At war’s end JTC purchased new trolleys and added more buses. It also added loops for the Ferndale and Roxbury iines and two miles of new track for the Franklin route. The new trolleys were a new style, all-electric “PCC” cars (for Presidents’ Conference Committee) made by the St. Louis Car Company, and Johnstown was the smallest city in the country to utilize the larger, more streamlined cars.
Trackless trolleys were introduced on the Hornerstown line on November 20, 1951, and they proved to be so successful that a gradual phase-out of electric trolleys was begun. In 1957 a Benscreek shuttle that operated between Ferndale and Benscreek during peak traffic hours was abandoned, with the last car to run the route, Trolley Number 350, taken to the Arden Trolley Museum in Washington County. All rail operations were ended on June 11, 1960, replaced by bus service.
The Johnstown Traction Company continued operating buses until December 1, 1976. On that date, all services were leased to a newly formed Cambria County Transit Authority. The next year CCTA purchased all JTC assets and the Johnstown Traction Company was dissolved.
Over the next several years the CCTA, whose name was shortened unofficially to CamTran, introduced several innovations, including renovating the Inclined Plane, adding a visitors’ center at the top, building a downtown transit center, introducing a county-wide paratransit service, adding park and ride services, introduced Reserve-A-Ride, constructed a pedestrian overpass across Rte. 56 at the base of the Inclined Plane, installed bike racks on all urban buses, built a new facility in Woodvale, and added the Persons With Disabilities Program. The most recent innovation has been the opening of a public/private compressed natural gas (CNG) furling station, the first of PennDOT’s P3 projects (Public-Private Partnership) to do so.
Tomorrow: Luzerne Street elms
Photo credits: streetcars – patrolley.org, other photos courtesy of CamTran
If you’ve been following my posts over the past few months you may recall hearing about the Cambria Iron Company in many of them. It is difficult to post anything about Johnstown’s industrial history without including Cambria Iron because it played such an important role in the city’s early years. The topic for today’s post also begins with Cambria Iron.
Cambria Iron Company began in 1852 and, as was discussed in one of the earliest posts, the company grew rapidly. As it grew, the company’s water needs increased to the point where, in the early 1800s, the company planned to move from Johnstown to somewhere in the vicinity of Lake Erie, where there obviously was an almost unending supply of water. However, many of the company’s executives argued against the move, saying the huge coal reserves, so important in the steel making process, as well as the availability of both the Pennsylvania Railroad and the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad for shipping, offset the advantage of the abundance of water in Lake Erie.
With the need for water being the driving force behind a contemplated move, the company made the decision to try to locate more water locally first. If none was available, then the move would be advantageous. In 1888, Border Dam was constructed in Paint Township to supply that water, first by way of a pipeline to Millcreek Reservoir Number 1 in Ferndale, and from there to Cambria Iron’s Lower Works and Gautier Mill through a 7.6 mile long, 36” diameter pipeline.
With the need for water only partially resolved, plans began for still another dam, this one on the Quemahoning Creek in Somerset County. That decision met with considerable resistance a year later, with the failure of the South Fork Dam and the subsequent disastrous flood. To allay the public’s fears, Cambria Iron hired one of America’s top reservoir designers, John Birkinbine.
Birkinbine’s design called for a construction method known as the Hydraulic Fill method of construction, also known as the Sluicing Method. This system used pressurized water to blast away at the hillsides where the reservoir was to be built, with the mud produced used to build up the dam. Using workers who had helped build the Panama Canal, construction began in 1908 and lasted until 1911. The result was the Quemahoning Dam.
The Quemahoning Dam, or simply the Que, was the largest man-made lake in Pennsylvania, holding 11,000,000,000 gallons of water. It fed water to Cambria Iron’s Franklin Works at a rate as high as 90,000,000 gallons a day through a 5’-6” diameter pipe.
The building of the Que was not without controversy, as several businesses, homes, and possibly even the Kickenapawling Old town Indian village were displaced. It is believed that the remains of the village, as well as dozens of foundations, including those of the old Pine Grove Church and the gristmill and hardware known as Stanton’s Mill, remain on the floor of the dam under millions of gallons of water.
The dam became the property of Bethlehem Steel Corporation when it took over steelmaking in Johnstown. Recognizing the potential the Que had for recreation, Bethlehem created Bethco Pines, a recreation park for its employees. Over the years thousands of employees and their families enjoyed the gun club and shooting range, swimming pool, and boating at the dam. When Bethlehem Steel folded, the Que was sold to the Cambria-Somerset Authority, the present owner.
Today the Que serves a dual purpose, supplying industrial water while providing a number of excellent recreational opportunities. Camping, swimming, boating, hiking and biking trails, and fishing make the Que a popular local recreation spot for area citizens, and regular water releases provide some of the best whitewater rafting, tubing, and kayaking in the east. These releases led to the creation of Greenhouse Park, the first man-made whitewater course in Pennsylvania.
Tomorrow: Basketball legend Maurice Stokes
Photo credits: My daughter, Cheryl Gindlesperger
The highest honor the United States can confer on a member of our armed services is the Medal of Honor. It is so difficult to earn this honor for gallantry that, out of the millions who have served, only 3,526 have been presented. One has been awarded to a woman, Dr. Mary Walker, for her efforts in treating the wounded during the Civil War. Nineteen service members have been accorded the honor twice. Two father-son combinations have received the Medal: Theodore Roosevelt, Sr. and Theodore Roosevelt, Jr; and Douglas MacArthur and his father Arthur MacArthur. There have been only seven pairs of brothers to receive this honor, with only four pairs of brothers honored for their actions in the Civil War.
Two of those brothers, Henry and Charles E. Capehart, were born in Johnstown. Henry’s heroism in saving a drowning man while under fire was discussed just a few days ago. Today Charles Ellsworth Capehart will be featured.
Charles was born in 1833 in Johnstown, the younger of the two Capehart brothers. After their mother died when the brothers were young, Charles, his father, and his brother moved to Pittsburgh. Both brothers attended schools in that city.
When the Civil War began Charles was living in Duquoin, Illinois. On April 18, 1861 he enlisted in the Union army, officially mustering in on May 2. He served for three months in Company G of the 12th Illinois Infantry before having to muster out due to illness. Six weeks later he reenlisted, this time as the adjutant for the 31st Illinois Infantry, serving until May 16, 1862, when he was commissioned as a captain and assigned to the 1st Virginia Cavalry (Union). His regiment would change its name to the 1st West Virginia Cavalry when West Virginia became a state in 1863. On June 6, 1863 he was promoted to major, less than a month before the Battle of Gettysburg.
At Gettysburg, on July 3, 1863 Charles helped lead a charge against firmly entrenched Confederate troops. The charge resulted in severe casualties for the West Virginians, as well as brigade commander General Elon Farnsworth, who was killed. With Farnsworth’s death, Colonel Nathaniel P. Richmond, who had been commanding the 1st West Virginia Cavalry, was moved into Farnsworth’s position as commander of the brigade. Charles Capehart moved into Richmond’s old position and took command of the regiment.
The next day Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s army was in retreat, with the Union army in pursuit. In a driving rain, the Southerners 17-mile long wagon train made it to Monterey Pass, south of Gettysburg. At midnight, Capehart lead his men in a daring charge down the side of the mountain, where they smashed into the wagon train. In fierce fighting the West Virginians destroyed several wagons and captured several others, along with a large number of prisoners.
On August 1, 1864 Charles was promoted to lieutenant-colonel. Following Lee’s surrender at Appomattox in 1865, Capehart mustered out of the Union army.
On April 7, 1898, just three years after his brother Henry was awarded the Medal of Honor, Charles was awarded one of his own. In addition to the Capehart brothers, 12 members of the 1st West Virginia Cavalry would receive Medals of Honor for their actions during the Civil War.
Charles’s citation reads: For the President of the United States of America, in the name of Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Major Charles E. Capehart, United States Army, for extraordinary heroism on 4 July 1863, while serving with 1st West Virginia Cavalry, in action at Monterey Mountain, Pennsylvania. While commanding the regiment, Major Capehart charged down the mountain side at midnight, in a heavy rain, upon the enemy’s fleeing wagon train. Many wagons were captured and destroyed and many prisoners taken.
Charles died on July 11, 1911 in Washington, DC and is buried in Section 3 of Arlington National Cemetery.
Tomorrow: Quemahoning Dam
Photo credits: Portrait: Congressional Medal of Honor Society
In 1851 the mainline of the Pennsylvania Railroad was extended from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, taking it right through Johnstown. Almost immediately Johnstown became a busy freight and passenger station. By 1914 the old station at the corner of Iron and Station Streets was outdated and was being called a disgrace by at least one Johnstown official. Architect Kenneth R. Murchison of New York was contracted to design a new station. Murchison studied at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris and was noted for his railroad station designs.
The design of the new station was meant to symbolize Johnstown’s industrial strength and material success, but it was also to be a sign of the city’s high standing in the eyes of the world as a cultural haven.
With the construction of the new station, three dangerous street level crossings were eliminated, replaced by subways. An existing pedestrian subway was also extended and a new pedestrian subway and footbridge were added. On October 12, 1916 the new station was dedicated. Construction cost, including the subways and elimination of the dangerous crossing, was $3,000,000.
One of the highlights of the new facility is the three-story high vaulted waiting room. The vault’s architectural style is called a Guastavino vault, characterized by self-supporting arches made of interlocking terracotta tiles and thin layers of mortar to form a thin skin. Marble Doric pilasters line the walls, with marble wainscoting giving the waiting area a rich, attractive appearance. The oak benches in the waiting area are original to the building. Administrative and service areas are housed in a two-story adjoining structure, and a one-story baggage handling station completes the complex.
In the 1960s the PRR merged with the New York Central and eventually was reorganized into Conrail. PRR was no more, and they had to get rid of the station. Amtrak took over and the passenger platforms were redesigned to accommodate Amtrak trains in 1976. In 1985-86 Walnut Street Properties acquired the station. Not long after that SFB Partnership took it over and in 2010 the Johnstown Area Heritage Association (JAHA) became the new owner. JAHA has since replaced the roof and rehabilitated the ceiling and concourse walls, installed new lighting, moved the ticket office, and installed an exhibit on the concourse walls to provide a welcoming atmosphere for visitors.
In 2010 JAHA announced plans to make the station a part of the Johnstown Discovery Network, and continuing efforts are underway to proceed with ongoing work on renovating the station and make the waiting area an events space and visitor center.
The current railroad station has survived two major floods, welcomed back war heroes, and served as the staging area for presidential hopefuls as well as other national leaders. It had a role in a major motion picture, introducing the world to the Hanson Brothers in the hit movie “Slapshot.” Earlier in 2020 the Artist-Blacksmith’s Association of North America announced plans to place its headquarters in the station as part of JAHA’s plans for a large transportation and education center. The blacksmith group will include, as part of their new headquarters, a gallery, retail shop, library and wall of fame, all to tie in with JAHA’s plans to make the station a tourism and transportation hub.
In addition to all this activity the Johnstown station remains an active and very busy facility. It was recently announced that the local station is sixth busiest in the state out of 18 Amtrak stations.
Tomorrow: Charles Capehart, Civil War Medal of Honor recipient
Photo credits: Exterior – trainweb.org, Interior – Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
Henry Capehart was a war hero, but ask anyone if they’ve ever heard of him or if they know what he did, and a blank stare will probably be your answer. More than 2,000,000 fought for the North in the Civil War. Of those, only 1,525 were awarded the Medal of Honor, and of those, only 10 were awarded to medical personnel. Henry Capehart was one of the 10.
Henry was born in Johnstown on March 18, 1825, the first of two brothers in the family. When his mother died at a young age, Henry helped raise his younger brother, Charles. When his father took the family to live in Pittsburgh, Henry attended schools there, then attended Jefferson College (today’s Washington and Jefferson). He then moved to Waynesburg to continue his medical education, and in 1849 he opened his practice in Bridgeport, West Virginia.
When the Civil War broke out he joined the Union army and was appointed regimental surgeon for the 1st Virginia Cavalry (Union). When West Virginia broke away from Virginia and became its own state in 1863, the regiment name changed to the 1st West Virginia Cavalry. He was present for the fighting at Gettysburg, Bristoe Station, and Mine Run. Capehart’s brother Charles took over temporary command of the regiment at Gettysburg when other officers were reassigned to fill key roles after the death of Brigadier General Elon Farnsworth.
At Mine Run, Capehart was credited with providing invaluable assistance for helping navigate the area, as well as assisting General Henry Eugene Davies in developing strategies for the fight. Davies was so impressed that he recommended Henry for permanent commander of the regiment. With the added responsibility came a promotion to colonel.
In May, 1864 the 1st West Virginia Cavalry took part in the Valley campaigns in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. On May 22 the regiment came under fire from Confederate troops while fording the rapidly flowing Greenbrier River. While still in the middle of the river, Private Watson Karr was swept off his panicked horse, the current immediately sweeping Karr downstream. Capehart attempted to catch the man as he swept by, but the current was so fast that the action pulled Capehart off his horse as well. Karr and Capehart were rushed downriver, where they passed over a waterfall. Coming to the surface, Capehart grabbed Karr and pulled him ashore, saving his life. It would take 31 years, but Capehart received the Medal of Honor on February 12, 1895. His citation is a simple one: “Saved, under fire, the life of a drowning soldier.”
On March 13, 1865 Capehart was placed in command of a cavalry brigade and, on the recommendation of General George Armstrong Custer, was promoted to Brevet Brigadier General. He would participate in the Appomattox Campaign as part of Custer’s division. Following the surrender of Lee at Appomattox, Capehart was promoted once again, this time to Brevet Major General. On July 8, 1865, with the war over, Capehart mustered out of the Union army and returned to medical practice.
Three years after Henry Capehart received his Medal of Honor, his brother Charles was also awarded the Medal of Honor. He will be the subject of a future post.
Henry Capehart died in Fargo, North Dakota at the age of 70, on April 12, 1895, just two months after receiving his Medal of Honor. He is buried with his wife Elizabeth (Kingsley) Capehart in Section 1 of Arlington National Cemetery.
Tomorrow: The Railroad Station
Photo credit: Portrait – Arlington National Cemetery
As with many buildings in Johnstown, the Penn Traffic building had its origins with the Cambria Iron Company. In the first part of 1854 two merchants, Augustus Stiles and George D. Allen, opened a small general store they called Stiles, Allen, and Company. Their building was a small two-story frame building with a side-gabled roof, and it looked more like someone’s home than a business. Just a few months after opening, the two sold the store on June 7, 1854 to George S. King, one of the Cambria Iron Company founders. King hired John S. Buchanan to manage the store, naming the business King, Buchanan, and Company. In a classic case of having a captive audience, Cambria Iron issued scrip to its employees, to be used the same as cash at King’s store. In effect, King’s endeavor became the company store for Cambria Iron Company.
In 1854 Cambria Iron found itself in financial difficulties. A Philadelphia creditor, Martin, Morrell, and Company, sent Daniel Morrell to Johnstown with orders to comeback with ideas on how the company could be saved. Daniel was the subject of an earlier post. One of Morrell’s suggestions was the investment of more capital. When the company suspended operations in 1855, Morrell himself stepped in and formed a new company, which leased the Cambria Iron facilities for five years. The new company was named Wood, Morrell, and Company, and the store became the new company’s store. It would be replaced 13 years later with an elaborate three-story facility and transitioned from a small general store to a full-scale department store.
The new store was L-shaped, with a north and south wing, with the wings connected by a one-story first floor. The new store sold groceries, hardware, clothing, shoes, and dry goods, and it also contained administrative offices and manufacturing rooms In a move that is unheard of today, it included sleeping rooms for the clerks, as well as private rooms for the manager and superintendent. The cost of the new building was $100,000.
In 1891 a new company, the Penn Traffic Limited partnership, purchased the store from Wood, Morrell, and Company and remodeled and expanded the building to 120’ deep x 160’ in length. While the style of the exterior remained the same, the interior was much more luxurious than the former store, containing carpeted floors, beveled glass mirrors, solid oak paneling, Italian marble, and a “…handsome open lattice elevator.” Stock in the new company was sold to Johnstown residents at a cost of $2.50 per share.
In 1903 the Pennsylvania incorporation laws changed and the company name was officially changed to the Penn Traffic Comppany. At the same time the store was expanded again by adding an addition on the eastern side of the existing structure. Then, on August 28, 1905, disaster in the form of a major fire struck, destroying the entire building. The fire was considered the worst in city history at that time. The debris was removed and immediately construction began on a new store. In 1908 the new facility, a five-story building that covered the entire block, was dedicated. That is the building we see today.
And it was quite the building. The 1907 issue of the New York Industrial Recorder noted that it had no counterpart in any city in the country with a population of less than 150,000 people, and an article in the March 5, 1908 Johnstown Tribune said it was the largest and most attractive department store between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia.
Penn Traffic was more than just a department store, however. On November 23, 1922 Johnstown’s first limited commercial Class A radio station license was granted to … yep, Penn Traffic.
The fire was not the only negative story associated with the store. In 1924 the store was robbed. But if you are thinking it was the usual case of a desperate gunman coming into the store and forcing a clerk to empty the cash register, you would be wrong. While the robbery wasn’t on the level of a John Dillinger caper, it was definitely large scale. An organized gang of burglars broke into the store at night, and when they were surprised by the night watchman, they struck him hard enough to render him unconscious. They then proceeded to steal $40,000 in cash and jewelry.
But what about that name? What does Penn Traffic mean? There are a couple of theories, so take your pick. The most common one, the one that was told in company brochures, was that the Penn part came from the old Pennsylvania Canal and the Pennsylvania Railroad. The traffic part was from one definition of traffic, which meant to deal in trade or business. Another theory, probably less believable, was that Penn Traffic was originally supposed to be called Penn Trading Company, and when they completed the 1891 expansion the initials PT were inscribed on the new building. The initials PT were supposedly on all the company’s paper goods, as well. The theory was that when the Penn Trading Company went broke, the initials were just kept because it would have been too costly to reprint paper goods and reinscribe the stonework.
By the 1970s the downtown Penn Traffic store was the flagship of a seven store chain. Then, as so often happens in Johnstown, a flood changed the store’s destiny. The 1977 disaster caused so much damage that the company decided not to re-open. Today the building is the home of a federal court, the U.S. Marshall’s office, and the Internal Revenue Service, as well as several private offices.
Tomorrow: Henry Capehart, Civil War Medal of Honor Recipient
Photo Credit: JAHA
David Joshua Beale was born in Juniata County on July 1, 1835 to Joshua and Emilia Beale, the first of five children in the family. At the same time he was attending schools in that area he was also attending Tuscarora Academy and Airy View Academy. As an over-achiever, he also taught at both academies while only a student himself. The Tuscarora Academy was a highly rated school and existed from 1816 to 1912. Today it serves as the home of the Juniata County Historical Society. Airy View Academy was also a highly respected school for both boys and girls that was founded in 1852. Being able to teach at both institutions while only a student himself is a testimony to his academic prowess and discipline.
Following graduation Beale attended Jefferson College, today known as Washington and Jefferson, graduating in 1861. He was ordained officially in 1863 and married Mary Moore two years later, with whom he had six children. Not long after getting married he earned a Doctor of Divinity degree from Princeton Theological Seminary.
In 1883 he moved to Johnstown to serve the First Presbyterian Church, located at what is now 416 Main Street, the modern-day Lincoln Center. The church’s façade remains and can be seen inside Lincoln Center. The Beales lived in the parsonage behind the church.
On May 31, 1889, with the rain pounding and the water rising, Mrs. Beale asked her husband to help her roll up the carpets and move them to the second floor. Before they could do that, however, they heard what Dr. Beale later described as a noise like that of a freight train. Looking out the window, he saw the wave of water coming toward their home. Beale immediately yelled for everyone to get to the attic. Once there, he shouted prayers over the noise, read scripture, and had the family sing hymns to keep the children calm. Both the church and the parsonage were spared, although the church suffered significant interior damage.
When the cacophony died down, Beale cautiously peered outside and witnessed unspeakable devastation. Unsure of what may happen next, the Beales slowly picked their way across the wreckage until they reached the nearby Alma Hall, which was featured in an earlier post. There, the family spent what Beale said was “…a night of indescribable horror.”
When the recovery work began, Beale was appointed superintendent of the six temporary morgues that were established. Reverend Henry Chapman was appointed along with Beale, but when Rev. Chapman said he was not up to the task, Beale took sole responsibility. The task of identifying bodies was most difficult because many of the victims had been badly disfigured in the pounding they had taken. Others had been burned beyond recognition in the fire that took place at the stone Bridge (also an earlier post), or had no one left to identify them.
The problems of identification were compounded by the lack of paper on which to record information, forcing Beale and his volunteers to use the scraps of paper they had in their pockets or could find among the debris. Using whatever they could find, Beale began documenting information about each body, whether identified or not. No information was considerated insignificant; articles found in pockets, color of hair, description of clothing … everything that could be used in the future to make an identification. The descriptions were heart-rending, but necessary. “Two year old, beautiful in death,” was one.
The church itself became one of the morgues, something which caused Beale untold stress later when he was challenged by one of the church elders, John Fulton. Fulton was angered by the fact that Beale had not gone through the church’s governing body to get permission to use the church as a morgue, which Beale said he could not do at the time because of the dire conditions. Fulton’s word carried a great deal of weight with the congregation, however, as he was general manager of the Cambria Iron works, making him one of the wealthiest and most influential citizens of the town. He called for a vote by the congregation to remove Beale as minister.
When the vote was taken on December 19, 1889 Fulton was angered further when the numbers were in Beale’s favor, and for the next several months he badgered Beale by accusing Beale of neglecting the congregation, charging people money to view the morgue books, and of stealing jewelry from the dead.
In 1890 Beale wrote his first-hand account of his experiences in a book titled “Through the Johnstown Flood: By a Survivor.” Fulton immediately took Beale to task for making money from the flood. Finally having enough, Beale told Fulton that he would resign as minister at First Presbyterian if Fulton would apologize to him in front of the congregation. Fulton agreed and did so. On November 1, 1890, Beale and his family said their goodbyes and left the city.
He would serve as a minister for eight more years, both in Frederick, Maryland and Philadelphia, retiring from the ministry in September 1898. He died on October 19, 1900 at his home in Philadelphia following an illness of three days. He was buried in the Westminster Presbyterian Cemetery in Philadelphia.
The First Presbyterian Church later moved to a new building at the corner of Walnut and Lincoln Streets. The old church would become the Nemo Theater, then the Embassy Theater.
Tomorrow: The Penn Traffic Building
Photo credit: National Park Service and JAHA
At first glance Old Conemaugh Borough appears to be just an extension of the downtown area, but such is not the case. Old Conemaugh is, in fact, its own neighborhood. Actually, It’s Johnstown’s oldest neighborhood commercial area, dating back to 1831.
Old Conemaugh owes its origin to the Pennsylvania Mainline Canal and the Allegheny Portage Railroad. At that time John Levergood donated a portion of his property to the state for the purpose of constructing a canal basin. It would be built where the canal and railroad met to unload and load canal boats and railroad cars. At the same time, Levergood sold lots to developers, who constructed warehouses along the docks.
By 1849 Old Conemaugh was formed from Conemaugh Township, and the new neighborhood grew quickly. New residents moved in, pushing the population to 800 within four years, along with many business, including the Johnstown Mechanical Works and several hotels, a state weighlock and repair yard, and a new steam grist mill. Two Catholic churches and four public schools soon followed.
Railroad Street began to take form as the unofficial commercial district for the neighborhood, with hotels, saloons, and restaurants serving both the locals and passengers on the canal. In 1832 a canal boat captain, Thomas Young, built a new hotel, the American House, that still stands today.
Residential streets were laid out, using Railroad Street as their starting point, and they were soon lined with newly constructed small working class homes. While there were many Irish and East European residents, Germans made up the largest immigrant group that settled near the canal, and they eventually split from the Irish St. John’s Catholic Church and formed their own church on Singer Street, St. Joseph’s. The original St. Joseph’s no longer stands, having been replaced in 1868 by a new St. Joseph’s on Railroad Street. The current church is said to be one of the oldest church’s in Johnstown that was constructed in the Gothic Revival style. A photo accompanies this post.
When the canal closed in 1863 there were natural fears of economic loss. Those fears were quickly laid to rest with the rapid expansion of the Cambria Iron Company and the growth of the Pennsylvania Railroad. When Cambria Iron purchased the Johnstown Mechanical Works in 1878and established their Gautier Division to manufacture farm implements and wire, more than 1,000 new employees moved into the neighborhood in less than four months. With housing now in short supply, the company laid out Chapin and Gautier Streets and placed 24 new tenement houses on them to alleviate the crisis. Nineteen of these houses remain today, nine on Gautier Street and 10 on Chapin.
Seeing an opportunity, private home builders expanded into the area. A construction supervisor for Cambria Iron, W. H. Smith, became an entrepreneur, building houses throughout the neighborhood. His business must have done well, because he built an impressive mansion at 125 Singer Street for himself in 1870. That home still stands.
By 1886 the commercial district was booming, with five grocery stores, a confection shop and cobbler, two hotels, five saloons, and a local fire department. Three years later the flood hit, sparing parts of the Old Conemaugh neighborhood but washing away much of the area north of Railroad Street. The only neighborhood building remaining that is a flood survivor is the St. Joseph church. Rebuilding costs were so high that the borough united with several other boroughs to form a bigger Johnstown.
Cambria Iron not only rebuilt their Gautier Mill, they also expanded it. The Pennsylvania Railroad purchased the old canal rights of way, expanded their rail service, and bult a new fright station on the old canal basin site. New housing was constructed to replace the homes destroyed by the flood waters, and merchants rebuilt their stores and shops along Railroad Street. German residents organized the German-Austrian Music and Benefit Society in 1890 and constructed a hall on Hudson street that still stands.
When Bethlehem Steel purchased the Cambria Iron properties, by then owned by Midvale Steel, in 1920 things looked promising. By the late 1920s the neighborhood boasted of six grocery stores, two tailors, two shoe stores, three meat markets, five restaurants, four barbers, five confectionery stores, and numerous smaller shops. However, the Depression a few years later, coupled with a new city-wide streetcar system that enabled more personal mobility, put a halt to Old Conemaugh’s growth. The commercial district is now smaller and more compact, but remains viable and still is proud that it is the oldest neighborhood commercial district in Johnstown by several decades.
Tomorrow – the Reverend David Beale
In 1883 a new manufacturer of steel rails, the Johnson Company, was organized in Woodvale by brothers Thomas L. and Albert L Johnson. Learning that the Cambria Iron Company was going to discontinue rolling rails, the Johnsons immediately contracted with Cambria Iron to roll its complex rail design. To do that, however, the company needed a larger facility. There was no room to expand where they were in Woodvale, and they began searching for land on the outskirts of the city that would be large enough for a new rolling mill, with additional property available for housing for company employees. They found what they were looking for on the opposite side of the city.
Although it may be difficult to visualize now, until 1887 the land that we know today as Moxham was all farmland, and all the farms on the property belonged to various members of the Von Lunen family. In 1887, Louis Von Lunen sold 95 acres of his farm to the Johnson Company, who moved their headquarters from Woodvale and constructed their new rolling mill on the property. Albert L. Johnson purchased another 94 acres and divided the tract into housing lots. The lots were available for purchase by anyone, not just employees of the Johnson Company. One of those lots contained the home belonging to Louis, which he had built around 1870. It is the yellow house with white shutters in the photos accompanying this post.
Many companies at that time believed that employees should live near their place of employment. The Johnson Company was no different. In 1887 the company paid for a land survey and established a grid form of tree-lined streets and alleys. At that time the old north-south route named Von Lunen Road was reoriented and renamed Linden Avenue. Not long after, Louis Von Lunen’s farmhouse was moved a short distance to its present location. The company also bought the Somerset and Johnstown Plank Road and renamed it Valley Pike Road, and issued bonds to build the first bridges over the Stonycreek Creek River at the north and south ends of Moxham. Modernized versions of those bridges are the bridges leading to Hornerstown and Ferndale today.
The company then built the Johnstown and Stoney Creek Railroad and linked it with the Somerset and Cambria line, providing passenger rail service from the new neighborhood to Johnstown. By then Arthur J. Moxham had assumed the presidency of the company, and he pushed for additional community services. Moxham, for whom this new community would be named, incorporated the Somerset Water Company in 1888 to develop a neighborhood water supply, chartered the Moxham Steam Fire Engine and Hose Company in 1890 and arranged for natural gas service for private use and street lighting. Mr. Moxham had his own estate built across Ohio Street from a new park he also envisioned, named Von Lunen Grove.
The company-financed Von Lunen Grove, taking up four square blocks, quickly became the jewel of Moxham. A road system for carriages meandered through a mature stand of trees, and a combined dance and dining hall and a bowling alley were built. The Grove became a magnet for the managerial and professional classes. Moxham’s large houses were built north of the park, usually on two or three standard 40′ by 120′ lots. Working class homes were constructed south of the Grove, on single lots. Company Manager E. B. Entwistle built his home at 401 Park Avenue around 1888. It is shown as the house with the red maple tree in the photos. Managers from other area companies followed his lead.
The main north-south thoroughfare, Central Avenue, became the neighborhood commercial district, and several dozen homes and businesses were built on Coleman and Park Avenues, just one block east of Central Avenue and the newly constructed mill.
In 1898, the Johnson Company was sold to the Loraine Steel Company, a subsidiary of the Federal Steel Company. A year later, the flood hit, although most of Moxham was spared. Many citizens who had been left homeless in other parts of the city relocated and built homes in Moxham. Several one and one-half story pre-fabricated “Oklahoma houses,” diverted from the Oklahoma land rush, were brought to Johnstown by rail and were built in the hundreds throughout greater Johnstown as temporary housing. Many were placed in Moxham. The last intact example of this house type known to exist today sat at the rear of 558 Highland Avenue. It now sits on the property of the Johnstown Flood Museum and was featured in an earlier post. A year after the flood, recognizing that one larger city had a better chance to recover than one city and several independent boroughs, Moxham joined with a number of other small boroughs and merged to form the City of Johnstown.
Von Lunen Grove was purchased by real estate developers in 1899 and was sold off in parcels to prospective home builders. Many of those homes were located on Grove and Park Avenues and were designed by well-known local architect Walter Myton, who also build a home in Moxham. Many of those homes contained carriage houses and stables, most of which have since been converted to apartments or garages. Von Lunen Grove is shown on the accompanying map, with its upper left corner sitting at the corner of Ohio Street and Park Avenue.
In 1900 Cypress Avenue School was built, and for some 20 to 30 years after that, Moxham saw a church-building boom, mostly along the Ohio Street corridor. Most are still there. During that period, A.J. Moxham’s estate burned to the ground and the property was soon the home of another church, Christ United Methodist. A photo of the church is part of this post. At the far north end of Park Avenue, between Dupont and Linden Streets, a new type of development took place when a private developer built what became known as Bungalow Row. Many of those bungalows remain today.
Beginning in 1927 junior college classes had been held at Johnstown Central High School as the first junior college in the eastern part of the country to have an affiliation with a major university, in this case the University of Pittsburgh. With the Gi Bill of Rights enabling large numbers of ex-servicemen to obtain a college education the need for a larger facility soon became apparent. The Cypress Avenue School, now closed, proved to be an ideal location. For the next 20 years the old Cypress Avenue School served as what was destined to become known as the Asphalt Campus.
Today Moxham remains a mixed neighborhood of small businesses, apartments, and private homes, with many of those old homes architecturally historical. Placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1999, Moxham is considered a typical 19thcentury industrial community, primarily owing its growth to the Johnson Steel Company.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s Historic Districts, Part 4 – Old Conemaugh Borough
The part of Westmont that is often referred to as Old Westmont is the area bounded approximately by Clarion Street, Edgehill Drive, Blair and Wayne Streets, Diamond Boulevard, and Stackhouse Park, according to the National Register of Historic Places. As with many of Johnstown’s older neighborhoods, the early Westmont was created by the Cambria Iron Company.
However, the area actually goes back much further than that. In 1793 John Yoder, from Mifflin County, purchased the land. It is his name that led to the area being referred to as Yoder Hill on some maps, even today. Yoder used the property for farming, growing crops on part of it and using the rest as pastureland. In 1817 John Miller purchased 424 acres from Yoder for the price of $1,200. The property would change hands several more times before it was purchased by the Cambria Iron Company in the 1850s. The company needed it to use as pastureland for the mules and horses they used in the mills and mines.
After the 1889 flood the company purchased land on Yoder Hill from a farmer named Mulvehill. The price was $20,178.75. The plan was for a new town to be built on to of the hill which would be advertised as a model suburb. Out of deference to the new town’s location at the top of the hill, it was to be named “Tip-Top.” The Philadelphia architectural firm of Miller and Yates was hired to design the new town.
The architects came up with a street plan that resembled a grid, with smaller alleys between each street. With a town named Tip-Top, it was only fitting that the street that ran along the top of the hill be named Edgehill Drive. Using Edgehill Drive as a starting point, streets running parallel to Edgehill were called avenues and were named numerically. Those running perpendicular were named after Pennsylvania Counties and were called streets. Eventually the numbered streets had their names renamed after colleges.
A few weeks ago I posted the history of Luna Park, now Roxbury Park. At that time I mentioned that the manager of the race track there resigned and went to a track in Westmont. At the time I didn’t know where that track was located in Westmont, but in researching this post about Westmont, I learned that Luzerne Street formed one straightaway of the track, with the rest encompassed by present day Tioga and Wayne Streets and Dartmouth and Hood Avenues. The track, known as the Johnstown Driving Park, was founded in 1893 at a meeting at Master’s Livery Stable, located somewhere in the downtown area. The track covered 28 acres and the land was rented from Cambria Iron for a 10-year period. The horses were housed in a stable that held “50 first-quality” stalls. Between races, the track conducted a number of activities to keep the fans entertained, including hot air balloon launches, chariot races, and parachute jumping.
By 1907 the track was disbanded to meet the demand for more homesites, but picnicking became a favorite diversion. It was so popular in this new leafy suburb that a group of Cambria City residents pooled their money and purchased a site in Old Westmont to build picnic grounds. They called their new facility the Landgrabbers Club.
Other recreational sites that were utilized by early residents were the Cambria Iron-sponsored Westmont Tennis Club (obviously the name of Tip-Top had been changed somewhere along the way), and the Johnstown Country Club, a small golf course laid out by the residents themselves. In 1903 Cambria Iron donated 120 acres for a nine-hole golf course, which only lasted four years before the demand for development caused its closure. A replacement course was constructed south of the old one along what is now the Westmont-Southmont border. The clubhouse for that course still stands along Menoher Boulevard and was known for many years as the Ye Olde Country Club.
The neighborhood also features two small parks that are nearly identically named: The Indian Mound, and the Mound. The former was originally named Reservoir Park and, because of its hilly terrain that makes it unsuitable for recreation, now houses a microwave tower. It is reputed to be an old Native American burial mound, although historical sources do not confirm that. The latter park includes athletic fields, tennis courts, and play areas. It was originally intended to be the site of a hotel that would be served by the new Inclined Plane, whose upper station sits across Edgehill Drive from the park.
As the neighborhood grew in both size and popularity, Cambria Iron decided to implement a ban on alcohol sales, as well as prohibiting the operation of tanneries, distilleries, public houses, or any business that may cause a public nuisance. The company’s reason was that “…it was proposed to make this a place of homes …”. Several of the historic homes, many of which still have carriage houses or stables on the premises, are specifically listed in the National Register. As a possible forerunner to today’s Homeowners Associations, the company also placed restrictions on storing building material on the streets, and introduced an ordinance that “Any person who shall willingly suffer his cow, horse, mare, gelding, mule, hog, or goat to run at large within the Borough” was subject to a fine or impoundment of the animal.
An interesting sidelight to the history and architecture is the original plan for diversity, to include executives and blue collar workers. This gave rise to what was referred to in the 1800s as the “dinner side” (white collar) and the “supper side” (blue collar). The dinner side, with homes owned by the occupants, was on the northern end, toward today’s Menoher Boulevard. The supper side, with housing rented to Cambria Iron workers, was at the southern end of the borough.
Westmont is said to be the nation’s first planned suburban development.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s Historic Districts Part 4, Moxham
In 1852 the Cambria Iron Company began production. Just a year later, brothers David and James P. McConaughy founded Cambria Borough, the forerunner to Cambria City. They laid out lots and sold them to the workers of Cambria Iron Company, who quickly built homes. Most of those living there were German immigrants, who pooled their resources and built St. Mary’s German Catholic Church and a parochial school. German immigrants also built a Swedish Catholic Church at the corner of Fourth Avenue and Power Street. Social and civic organizations soon followed, when a men’s choir, the Cambria City Mannechor, was founded. Their building would be destroyed in the 1889 flood, but the industrious immigrants wasted no time in rebuilding it at 210 Chestnut Street. The property is now a vacant lot. All told, Cambria City lost 148 homes from the flood waters. Countless others were so badly damaged that they were uninhabitable, and at least 372 people from the neighborhood died. However, at least 11 pre-flood houses remain today.
Germans also organized Cambria City’s first fire department in 1887, a volunteer group known as the Cambria Fire Hook and Ladder Company. Their building, sitting at 624 Broad Street, is still there and the name of the fire department remains engraved above the windows, which were once the fire house doors.
Gradually, other ethnic groups moved into the neighborhood. Irish, Welsh, Poles, Croatians, Slovenes, Magyars (Hungarians), Slovaks, Serbs, Russians, Ukranians, and others, attracted by the lure of jobs in the steel mills and coal mines, filtered in. All built their own churches, giving the Cambria City and Minersville neighborhoods a melting pot atmosphere. Due to decreased attendance in recent years, however, several have been consolidated, with the closed churches being repurposed into galleries, lecture halls, recording studios, performance theaters, concert halls, and special events facilities, with others still in the planning stages for restaurants and performance centers. Cambria City hosts an annual Ethnic Festival that attracts large crowds, and it is the home of the Wagner-Ritter House, Heritage Discovery Center, Johnstown Children’s Museum, and the Iron and Steel Gallery. With restaurants, art galleries, museums, ethnic clubs, and performing arts facilities, Cambria City is being transformed into Johnstown’s premiere cultural district.
Across the river from Cambria City sits Minersville, with a bridge built in 1914 linking the two neighborhoods. The bridge originally was a toll bridge. Minersville dates as far back as 1765, when the land on which it sits was purchased by Thomas Afflick. Residential development did not take place, however, for nearly a century when Millville Borough was incorporated in 1858. Minersville was the Second Ward of Millville. Like Cambria City, most of those who would live there were Cambria Iron workers.
The neighborhood’s historical significance arises from its association with industry (primarily the old Cambria Iron Works), ethnic heritage (in the late 1800s there were more foreign-born residents than native-born), and late 1800-early 1900 architecture. The original southern border was formed by the Pennsylvania Canal, which was eventually replaced by the Pennsylvania Railroad.
For the first several decades, Irish and Welsh made up the bulk of the population. Then, just as happened in Cambria City, other ethnic groups, mostly eastern and central European, moved in and the neighborhood resounded with the sounds of dozens of dialects. Facing discrimination, ironically often from other immigrants who had arrived earlier, the newcomers banded together with others of the same nationality, leading to a diversified neighborhood that was divided into smaller pockets of like nationalities, many of which had their own social clubs, banks, and even insurance companies. In 1891 the First Catholic Slovak Band was formed, said to be the first such band in the United States.
Minersville is said to contain the best concentration of company-built houses in Johnstown, with most built in the 1890s by Cambria Iron Company, and it remains a working-class neighborhood. Because of its somewhat hilly location, Minersville was able to avoid much of the damage that other areas received from the 1889 flood and several pre-flood houses remain, although two bridges were swept away and 115 citizens were lost.
The two communities, although bordering one another, are strikingly different. Cambria City is mostly flat, while Minersville’s topography is hillier. The differences, however extend beyond terrain. Minersville is much smaller but the buildings are more spread out as opposed to those in Cambria City, particularly along Chestnut Street, which are so close together that often they share a common wall between them. Street patterns are also much different, and many of the houses in Minersville are identical, as would be expected from company houses. In contrast, Cambria City, with no remaining company housing, has many different styles.
Tomorrow: Part 3 of Johnstown’s National Historic Districts, Westmont
Photo credit: Ethnic Festival- Suzanne Gindlesperger, Minersville company houses – Google Earth
It’s been said that you can’t turn around in Johnstown without seeing something historical, so it would stand to reason that Johnstown would have six neighborhoods registered as National Historic Districts: Downtown, Cambria City, Moxham, Minersville, Old Westmont, and Old Conemaugh Borough. Several other towns around Johnstown are also listed, including Windber, Ebensburg, Colver, Revloc, Portage, and Patton. Today we’ll be looking at the Downtown National Historic District. The other five Johnstown districts will be covered over the next few days.
Although Johnstown was founded in 1800, most of the buildings in the Downtown Historic District have been built since 1889, when the flood destroyed most of the downtown area. At the center of the district sits Central Park, with small scale shops mingling with large commercial office buildings and retail stores branching out from there. The original mansions in the Central Park area that housed the well-to-do were all destroyed in the flood. Originally, Central Park was used for public meetings, circus performances, and as a playground. (See my August 26 post for more information on Central Park). The city’s first fire house was built there in 1832, and the Main Street square, as it was known then, contained a market house and a jail. City founder Joseph Johns designated four lots in the downtown area to be used as the county courthouse and other government buildings. As we know today, those lots eventually found other uses after the county placed the county seat in Ebensburg.
The four corner lots at Main and Market Streets were originally designed to remain undeveloped, instead housing the city market. They remained that way until 1872, when a municipal building was erected. Over the years the original plan was scrapped, and the city market disappeared entirely. Today, those lots are occupied by three small parklets and city hall.
What we know as downtown today was actually the entire city in the early 1800s, but when the Pennsylvania Canal and the Allegheny Portage Railroad were completed in 1830, the population exploded. The arrival of the Pennsylvania Railroad also contributed to the growth. Ten transportation offices opened, with hotels, saloons, commercial shops, and professional offices soon following. When Cambria Iron Company opened in 1851, it perpetuated the growth, turning Johnstown into a bustling steel and transportation center. The first bank (Smith, Bell and Company) opened, as well as the Stiles, Allen and Company Department Store. That department store would later become known as Penn Traffic. Before long the city had 30 grocery stores, 15 dry goods stores, 12 butchers, 245 mercantile businesses, and a hardware store.
Social life centered around theaters. There were two originally, called nickelodeons, which projected the images onto white walls. These were the Bijou (Clinton Street) and the Stadium (521 Main Street). That number would grow to 11, with nine on Main Street alone. Motion pictures could be seen at the Globe, Grand, Nemo, (416 Main Street, which became the Embassy), Park View (434-436 Main Street), Park (corner of Main Street and Park Place), State (now part of the Lee Campus of Memorial Medical Center on Main Street), and Grand Theaters. If Broadway shows were more to your taste, you went to the Cambria Theater, and for those with a preference for vaudeville, the Majestic was the place to go to see such stars as Al Jolson, Houdini, Eddie Cantor, or even stripper Sally Rand. Competing for attention were 110 saloons and 26 churches.
Then came the 1889 flood, and much of the city was no more. A major part of the recovery effort was the establishment of a “business block.” This business block, consisting of four 20’ x 40’ buildings, was opened up for merchants to re-establish their businesses. Those renting space had to agree to move out after 18 months. Three more similar buildings were constructed on Market Square, at the corner of Main and Market Streets. Just seeing those buildings opening was said to buoy the spirits of Johnstown’s citizens, with the renewed energy felt throughout the city resulting in dozens of new buildings opening, including libraries, hotels, an opera house, pool halls, midwives, boarding houses, bowling alleys, and large office buildings.
As the growth continued, Johnstown expanded geographically until it was no longer just the downtown area. However, downtown remained the heart of the city. More department stores were needed, and places like Nathan’s, Dibert’s, Kline’s, Schwartz’s, and Glosser Brothers filled that void.
The outer edges of the downtown historic district still contain some of the original Cambria Iron Works facilities, all of which are registered National Landmarks. The basic grid network of streets laid out by Joseph Johns remains pretty close to the way he envisioned it. Downtown today contains the county’s central library, Select Specialty Hospital and the Lee Campus of Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center, several churches, City Hall, the Public Safety Building, and the local newspaper. It also houses PNG Park, a performing arts and special events venue; Sargent’s Field at the Point Stadium; and First Summit/Cambria County War Memorial Arena.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s National Historic Districts Part 2 – Cambria City/Minersville
The 54th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry was still licking its wounds from the Battle of New Market four weeks earlier. The regiment had been either marching or fighting with little rest since New Market, with a skirmish at New Hope Church, a much larger engagement at Piedmont, followed by more skirmishing at Middlebrook, Brownsburg, Waynesborough, Lexington, Piney River, Buchanan, New Glasgow, Otter Creek, and New London. Just yesterday morning they’d had a brush with some rebels at Diamond Hill in the morning, then began fighting on this new battlefield later in the day, just outside the town of Lynchburg, Virginia. Most of the earlier skirmishes had been minor, with little bloodshed, but they were draining, both physically and mentally. This fight looked like it could be a big one, and the men were exhausted.
Lynchburg was a major supply center and served as a railroad connection for the Virginia Central Railroad that made up a significant part of the Confederate army’s supply chain. It was for those reasons that Major General David Hunter, commander of the Union’s Army of the Shenandoah, of which the 54th PVI was a part, planned to capture it.
It was June 18, 1864, and 21-year old John W. Mostoller of the regiment’s Company B was anxious, as most soldiers are before a battle. He was also hungry, the regiment having run out of rations. Although he didn’t know it, it would be two more days before he would eat. Mostoller had been born on January 14, 1843 in Stoystown, the son of Joseph and Sarah (Mowry) Mostoller, and had enlisted in the Union army in September 1861, not long after the first shot was fired at Fort Sumter.
The fighting the previous day had seen both armies gain a bit of ground, then give it back. The battle had come to a standstill at dusk, with nothing really accomplished by either side. Throughout the night Mostoller had heard trains moving in and out, bringing Confederate reinforcements. Bugles and drums had added to the din, and even the townspeople of Lynchburg had joined in, making enough noise to make the men of the 54th wonder just how big was the army they would be facing at daybreak.
Under division commander Brigadier General George Crook, the regiment started their day by marching two miles to a position where they could flank the Confederates on their left. Once there, the idea was abandoned as being impractical. The men of the 54th then retraced their steps, ending up where they had started after their 4-mile round trip jaunt. They then moved forward, testing the Confederate strength as they were raked by deadly cannon fire. They were soon pinned down, unable to do much more than squeeze as close to the earth as they could to avoid the enemy onslaught.
With all the regiment’s officers either killed or wounded, the situation became desperate. At that point, Mostoller took things into his own hands. Jumping up, he shouted above the noise of battle, “Charge!” He didn’t know if the others would follow a lowly private on a death defying charge at the enemy, but out of the corners of his eyes he saw all his comrades joining him. The regiment raced uphill into the teeth of the Confederate artillery, Mostoller in the lead. Those that survived, a group that included Mostoller, overran a Confederate battery and captured it. Today, the site of Mostoller’s heroics is part of the campus of the University of Lynchburg, just behind a building known as Hopwood Hall, an administration building now on the National Register of Historic Places.
Although the Union troops were eventually driven back that day, Mostoller’s actions were credited with saving his entire brigade. On December 27, 1894 his effort was rewarded when he was presented with the Medal of Honor. His citation reads: “Voluntarily led a charge on a Confederate Battery (the officers of the company being disabled) and compelled its hasty removal.”
On June 10, 1916 Mostoller’s name was added to the Army and Navy Medal of Honor Roll, and on November 11, 1921 he was a guest of honor at Arlington National Cemetery, where he participated in the entombment of the Unknown Soldier with other Civil War veterans. In 2014 he was posthumously honored by the Pennsylvania General Assembly, which passed Act 97 naming a bridge on State Route 1008 in Somerset County the Private John W. Mostoller Memorial Bridge.
On December 5, 1925 John William Mostoller, Civil War hero, breathed his last at the age of 82. He was buried in the IOOF Cemetery in Stoystown, not far from where he had been born. As one of only two Civil War Medal of Honor recipients from Somerset County (the other is Francis M. Cunningham, who served with the 1st West Virginia Cavalry), his Medal of Honor is displayed in the Somerset County Courthouse Annex.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s historic districts, part 1
Photo credit: Portrait -Hall of Valor Project (Military Times)
If you remember my post about the Allegheny Portage Railroad you may recall that the railroad was constructed to connect canals in Johnstown and Hollidaysburg. The railroad was necessary because the canal boats were unable to get across the mountain otherwise. Part of that railroad included a tunnel, located at what was known as the Staple Bend on the Little Conemaugh River.
The contract for the construction of the tunnel was awarded to J. and E. Appleton, who began working on November 21, 1831. The Principal Engineer for the Allegheny Portage Railroad, Sylvester Welch, supervised the project. Workers, who earned $13/month plus room and board for their 6-day weeks of 12-hour days, began at either end and worked toward the middle. Progress was slow, about 18” a day, with construction achieved through a combination of hand drilling and explosives, using black powder to remove nearly 15,000 cubic yards of material.
The blasting was done by hand-drilling three feet long holes and packing them with powder. Ten holes were drilled, each one about three feet in length and one inch in diameter. To drill one hole required a three-man crew working continuously for three hours. When the last of the ten holes was completed, about one pound of explosive powder wrapped in paper was pushed into each hole. The powder was then tamped down, punctured with a sharp needle, and a fuse added. Blasting was scheduled to take place just before mealtime. Doing it this way allowed the workers to eat their meal while the dust settled.
On December 21, 1832 the workmen broke through the final barrier and connected the two ends of the tunnel, touching off a celebration that included speeches and toasts. The workers and foremen actually celebrated their Christmas there. The ends of the tunnel were then lined with local Allegheny sandstone for safety, to prevent rock and dirt from falling due to inclement weather or from vibration caused by the trains passing through the tunnel. With the completion of entrance facades in June, 1833, mostly to impress travelers, the tunnel was ready for use.
The 901-foot long tunnel cost $37,498.85 to construct. Nearly half of that cost was attributed to the fancy entrances. It was only the third tunnel built in the United States. The other two were for actual canal use, making the Staple Bend Tunnel the first railroad tunnel constructed in the country.
The Portage Railroad opened in April 1834 and operated until Staple Bend Tunnel was abandoned in December 1852. The tunnel was sold to the Pennsylvania Railroad in June, 1857, who removed the rails in 1858 and abandoned the tunnel.
With the abandonment of the tunnel by the railroad, it became a popular carriage route until the Flood of 1889. Flood damage made the tunnel a less desirable driving spot, although local residents continued to visit. It was said to be a popular courting spot until the 1940s.
In the 1940s a concrete liner was added to the east portal of the tunnel and large water lines and a water vault structure were built by the Manufacturer’s Water Company, which was now the tunnel’s owner. At that time the tunnel was closed to the public and Bethlehem Steel began using the water lines.
In 2001 the tunnel became its own area of the Allegheny Portage Railroad National Historic Site. Located near Mineral Point, a visit to the tunnel requires a hike or bike ride of about two miles over a limestone dust surfaced trail. No motorized vehicles of any kind are permitted on the trail.
Tomorrow: John Mostoller, Civil War Medal of Honor recipient
Photo credit: National Park Service
Adjacent to the parking area at the base of the Inclined Plane sits a small grassy strip that is adorned with the flags of 32 separate nations. It is known as the International Flag Plaza, and while it is an impressive array of colors, it actually serves a purpose.
The origins of the display go back to 1976, when our nation was celebrating our 200th birthday. Special commemorative coins were minted, and the American Freedom Train traveled cross-country, going through every state in the continental United States. Operation Sail, an international gathering of tall masted sailing ships, anchored in New York and Boston and were visited by millions. Even Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip showed there were no hard feelings about our revolution and came to celebrate with us. Cities and states across the country were encouraged to do something to commemorate the occasion, and parades, fireworks, concerts, and celebrations were the order of the day throughout the year in large cities and small villages.
Johnstown was no different, but city officials wanted to do something that other cities weren’t doing, something that would remain after the celebrating was finished. Mayor Herbert Pfuhl is credited with coming up with the idea of connecting the celebration of the birth of our nation with Johnstown’s contribution, and what better contribution than to feature the impact of immigrants to the growth of both Johnstown and the United States?
Immigration made both stronger, and the idea was presented, and quickly accepted, to feature the national origins of the immigrants that contributed to Johnstown’s success, as well as the nation’s. A display of flags of those national origins was selected as the way to present a lasting tribute to both the National Bicentennial and the city’s early contributions to the growth and strength of the country.
Research showed that immigrants came to Johnstown primarily from 31 different nations. There were probably a few more that also contributed, but the bulk came from these parts of the world: Australia, Belgium, Bulgaria, Canada, China, Czechoslavakia, Denmark, West Germany, Finland, France, Ghana, Greece, Hungary, India, Indonesia, Iceland, Israel, Italy, Japan, Korea, Mexico, Poland, Romania, Serbia, Sweden, Switzerland, Syria, Turkey, United Kingdom, Ukraine, South Vietnam, and Yugoslavia.
On July 4, 1976, the actual national birthday, a dedication ceremony was conducted to commemorate the date. A special program involved a roll call of each of the 31 nations, with the flag of each raised in recognition. Of course, our national flag was raised as well, bringing the total of flags to 32. The assembled crowd sang “This Land Is Your Land,” and the mayor gave a speech. In that speech, Mayor Pfuhl said “We do not stand at the cradle of liberty, but we are part of its foundation.” He went on to say, “We represent what made America grow. The flags represent the countries, and they represent us.”
A nameplate for each country’s flag was affixed to the appropriate flag poles, and a plaque was dedicated that said, “Dedicated to generations before us of every nationality, race, and creed; who made this bicentennial possible. 1776 – 1976.” The plaza was rededicated on July 4, 1979.
The flags proved popular immediately, with traffic reported stopped along the adjoining roadway the next day to take in the sight. The flags are still flown daily when weather permits.
The Heritage Discovery Center, featured in an earlier post, documents the experiences of the immigrants in a permanent display titled “America: Through Immigrant Eyes.” That exhibit describes the reasons immigrants came to Johnstown and what they experienced when they got here.
Tomorrow: Augie Donatelli, Major League Umpire
If you will pardon just a bit of shameless self-promotion, I must explain why I have a special affinity for today’s subject, Major James Gageby. One summer evening in the early 1990s I accompanied my daughter, Cheryl, to Grandview Cemetery so she could work on a college project, recording information from the gravestones of Civil War veterans. As she was doing that, I wandered around looking at the various monuments in the area. One that caught my eye was the Gageby family plot. I vaguely remembered reading something about Gageby but couldn’t remember what, so over the next few weeks I went to the library and did some research. It turns out that he was a participant in the famous tunnel escape out of the Confederacy’s notorious Libby Prison in Richmond, Virginia. The 109 Union officers, including Gageby, made up what is still the largest mass escape of American prisoners of war in U.S. History.
After dozens of trips to the National Archives to do further research, I hit a wall. I contacted the National Park Service asking if they could add anything to what I had found. I was surprised when they got back to me and said “We don’t have anything like this. Can we use your information?” They also suggested I get my work published. This all led to my first book, “Escape From Libby Prison,” which won some awards and was featured in a Discovery Channel documentary. The highlight came when Warner-Brothers offered me a contract, hoping to make a feature movie starring Tom Hanks that would be based on the book. (Spoiler Alert: W-B dropped the movie from their production schedule four years later after spending several hundred thousand dollars, but it started a sequence of events that led me to write eight more books). Anyway, that’s why I have a special place in my heart for James Gageby, and I want to tell his story here.
Gageby was born in Johnstown September 5, 1835, the son of Robert B. and Rebecca (Scott) Gageby. His grandfather had emigrated to America from Scotland in 1744 and was said to have been in Independence Hall in Philadelphia when the Declaration of Independence was first read. Not to be outdone, Gageby’s father assisted in the construction of the Portage Railroad and the Pennsylvania Canal (discussed in an earlier post). Gageby also was a direct descendent of William the Conqueror.
He entered military service April 19, 1861 as a sergeant in Company K of the 3rd Pennsylvania Volunteers, also known as the Johnstown Zouaves. When his three-month term of enlistment was up, he assisted in the recruitment of a company for the 76th Pennsylvania Volunteers, but before the regiment was officially organized, he joined the 19th United States Infantry, where he was appointed 1st sergeant in Company G. The regiment would serve as guard for General George McClellan, and subsequently, Gageby took part in the battles of South Mountain, Antietam, and Fredericksburg. He would receive an appointment as brevet 1st lieutenant as a reward for his “gallant and meritorious service” in the Battle of Hoover’s Gap. As a member of Company A after reassignment, he was wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga on September 20, 1863, when he was captured and placed in Libby Prison.
While in Libby Prison he became a close friend of Colonel Thomas Rose of the 77th Pennsylvania, who was planning an escape. Rose and Captain Andrew Hamilton of the 12th Kentucky Cavalry had actually been plotting an escape before Gageby and Rose became friends, and when the final tunnel was begun, Rose wanted Gageby to help with the digging. Unfortunately, some of the more senior officers were against having junior officers in the digging crew, so Gageby and Lieutenant M. C. Causten were assigned the task of maintaining security to prevent the Confederates from discovering the tunnel.
All told, Rose and Hamilton, as well as those on their crew, made eight unsuccessful and harrowing attempts at getting out of the prison, narrowly escaping apprehension each time when either the Confederates or circumstances thwarted the attempt. Finally, the successful tunnel was completed and, on February 9, 1864, the escape was made when 109 officers, including Gageby, crawled out through the 18” diameter tunnel after navigating their way through the part of the prison basement known as Rat Hell, for the thousands of rats that inhabited that part of the prison.
Unfortunately for Gageby, he was recaptured two days later at Charles City Crossroads with two other escapees and returned to Libby, where he was placed in the prison’s moldy and rat-infested dungeon with only minimal amounts of bread and water to eat and drink. He was eventually transferred to nine different Confederate prisons before being released on parole on March 1, 1865. He returned to duty in time to fight at the Battle of Lookout Mountain in Tennessee.
He was promoted to captain and reassigned to the 37th Infantry, taking part in several minor expeditions and a few engagements against the Apaches and Comanches before being assigned to Company D of the 3rd Infantry, which was ordered to provide protection for railroad construction crews against attacks by the Arapahoes and Cheyennes.
He then assisted with reconstruction duties in the South before becoming a recruiter for the 3rd Infantry.
In 1873 he married Matilda Fend of Johnstown, and the two had one daughter, Emma, who was born at Fort Missoula, Montana where Gageby was stationed at the time. He was at home on leave in 1889 when the flood hit, and his home was destroyed and his mother and two sisters drowned. He was placed on temporary assignment with the National Guard, to allow him to assist with the recovery effort. Returning to duty he was promoted to major of the 12th Infantry and placed in command of Fort Sully, South Dakota and Fort Niobrara, Nebraska.
James Gageby died on July 13, 1896 and was laid to rest in the family plot in Grandview. Gageby Creek, Colorado and Gageby Creek, Texas are named in his honor.
Tomorrow: International Flag Plaza
Photo credits: Gageby photo – Find-a-Grave; Libby Prison – New Market Historical Society
Around 8:00 pm the evening of August 30, 1923 an argument broke out between Robert A. Young and the woman he lived with on Hinkston Avenue in Rosedale, which at that time was a mostly black and Mexican neighborhood. Young and his girlfriend were black. Johnstown city police officer Joseph Grachan went to the house, where the woman told him that everything was fine. Grachan left with no arrests made. Young had come to Johnstown the previous January from Carlisle, Kentucky to work in the Cambria Steel Works. The 32-year old had lived in Rosedale since May, where neighbors said he occasionally caused trouble. Police said he had been convicted of murder in Alabama but was out on parole.
After Grachan left, Young went to see a friend, Levi Samuels, who lived just a few doors up Hinkston Avenue. The two went to Franklin in Samuels’s car, police said to purchase drugs and moonshine. They had just returned to Rosedale around 11:15 pm when Young yelled for Samuels to stop, then asked Samuels to take him back to Franklin. On the ride back to Franklin, Samuels struck a pole. Ironically, it was Officer Grachan who responded to the accident. As he was talking to Samuels, Young pulled out a gun and pointed it at Grachan, shouting “You’re the _____ that was going to arrest me!
As Grachan and Young struggled for the gun, Young fired three shots, one striking Grachan in his right lung. The surprised Samuels was so close that he received powder burns on his face. He immediately dropped to the ground and crawled to his nearby house, entering the back door. There, he told his father what had happened, and the elder Samuel called the police, the first of two such calls he would make in an effort to get help. In turn, Grachan was able to pull his own gun and shoot at Young, emptying the cylinder. The wounded Grachan was able to break free and run to a nearby bunkhouse, where a man named Myers called for an ambulance, which rushed Grachan, a widower with two teenage children, to Mercy Hospital, where he was listed in critical condition.
At the Central Police Station, county detective John A. James, special officer Joseph Abrahams, and city detective Otto Nukem piled into Abraham’s car, the latter two in the rear seat. Immediately behind them in a police car were Captain Otto Fink, Lieutenant William H. Bender, and city detective John Yoder, who was carrying a riot gun. Before also rushing to the scene, Acting Chief George Patterson called Chief Charles Briney in Pittsburgh, where he was attending a police convention, to apprise him of the situation.
As the Police rushed to the scene, Young ran to Levi Samuels’s house, where the father and son had piled furniture against the door as a barricade. Young forced his way in and demanded to see the woman he was living with, refusing to believe Samuels when he insisted that she wasn’t there. Young searched through the house before leaving for his own home. A woman boarder there screamed as he entered, alerting the arriving police. Young ran out the back door and went into some tall grass nearby, just about the time Abrahams drove past. Young fired a shot, striking Abrahams in the chest. With Abrahams slumped over the steering wheel, the car slowly drifted to a stop. As he exited the car, Nukem was shot in the left arm. Abrahams, who was a naturalized citizen from Rumania, died on the way to the hospital of internal hemorrhaging.
James, Fink, Yoder,and Bender rushed to Young’s house, believing he was inside. As James was attempting to enter, he was shot and mortally wounded. The detective lived in the 1stWard and was the father of seven children. He would die shortly after being admitted to Memorial Hospital.
Young then sneaked around the side of the house, where he spotted Captain Fink, shooting him in the back and fracturing his spine. Fink, who lived on Sherman Street with his wife and four sons, was instantly paralyzed from the waist down, his upper body falling through the doorway, with his legs and feet on the porch. Detective Yoder and Lieutenant Bender pulled Fink to a safer location, then gave chase to Young. Bender encountered the suspect in a passageway between two houses, where Young shot him in the abdomen. Bender lived on Cypress Avenue and was the father of five. He would survive his wounds. Yoder, seeing Bender fall, pursued Young until he cornered him. Several shots were exchanged between the two until Young clutched his abdomen and disappeared around the corner of the house. He was found dead a few minters later in the back yard. In addition to his abdominal wound, Yoder’s shots had struck Young in the left thigh and shattered his left arm above the elbow.
Police patrolled the area and arrested 22 people as possible accomplices, although all were soon released. Several weapons were confiscated. Unbelievably, while this was all going on, two Mexican immigrants were arguing with an Officer Hynicka in the 16th Ward, where one of the men pulled a gun on the officer. Hynick was able to strike the man on the head with his mace and arrest the two, but the incident, coupled with the shootings in Rosedale, caused feelings to rise to a fever pitch. Crowds gathered around City Hall, threatening to burn Rosedale to the ground. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and there was no further violence, although the next night the Ku Klux Klan burned more than a dozen crosses on the hills around the city as an intimidation tactic.
Mayor Joseph Cauffiel, who was said to be racist and who was up for reelection, saw an opportunity to gain some ground with the voters. Within a few days he issued an order prohibiting blacks from holding any public gatherings or assembling in groups except to go to church. He further ordered that all black and Mexican residents who hadn’t been living in the city for the past seven years had to leave.
The incident and its aftermath, especially Caufflel’s order, brought unwanted national attention to Johnstown, and protests came from the NAACP and the Mexican Embassy. Eventually Governor Gifford Pinchot stepped in and overruled Cauffiel’s order. Cauffiel would lose his election but served another term a few years later. His political fortunes ended when he was imprisoned for extortion and perjury.
Tomorrow: James Gageby
Photo credits: Cauffiel photo – Pittsburgh Quarterly, Cartoon – Dallas News
In 1924 Lilly Borough was a small town with a population of about 2300, 90% of whom were Catholic. Feelings ran deep between the Catholics of the town and the few Protestants. Children were told to play only with kids from their own religion, and more than one family was split because a child married outside his or her church.
But the people of the town had one common enemy: the Ku Klux Klan, which was fairly active in Cambria County at that time, not to mention its national strength. As many as 250,000 Pennsylvanians were estimated to be Klan members, and 65 of the state’s 67 counties had at least one chapter. But why would the KKK care about Lilly, despite its heavy Catholic concentration? The answer is simple. In addition to being anti-black and anti-semitic, the Klan was vehemently anti-Catholic and anti-immigrant. As in most small coal mining towns in Pennsylvania, many of the miners were Irish and Italian immigrants, making Lilly a natural target for the Klan. Further, the United Mine Workers Union had decided to expel union members who also belonged to the KKK. The Klan wanted revenge, and Lilly was a UMW stronghold.
The Klan had attempted to hold rallies in Lilly in the past but the people of the town put their religious differences aside and joined forces to resist, going so far as to knock down the Klan’s crosses before they could be burned. On April 5, 1924, things came to a head. That night more than 300 Klansmen reserved and boarded a train in Johnstown, calling it the KKK Special. Another 100 boarded a second train when it stopped in Johnstown as part of its regularly scheduled route. All 400 got off the train in Lilly, each carrying a small package in the proverbial plain brown wrapper. The packages served a dual purpose. First, they identified them as Klansmen to other Klansmen, and second, the packages carried their hoods and robes, which they all put on as soon as the got off the train.
Not everyone in Lilly was against the Klan, however. The Klan newspaper, the “Keystone American,” was routinely sold in town, right beside the Johnstown Tribune, and a Klan-friendly citizen had already erected two crosses on a hill at the far edge of town known as Piper’s Field, named for the nearby Piper Mine.
The Klan wasted little time in forming a march from the train to Piper’s Field, and as they marched, the town went dark when another citizen, also sympathetic to the Klan, cut the power line. In the darkness, the Klan held a two-hour ceremony, complete with a burning of both crosses, as well as dynamite explosions. As the ceremony unfolded, citizens of the town came up with a plan to defy the Klan on their return to the train.
Their initial idea, to release loaded mine cars from the Piper Mine that would careen down the tracks and smash into the KKK Special., was voted down, but what happened next was not. As the Klan marched back to the train, they were met by hundreds of jeering citizens lining their route. One Klansmen was dragged from the march and severely beaten, which was not part of the plan but nobody seemed to mind. Then, the plan was put into action.
As the Klan made its way through the throng, a fire hose was turned on them, its force knocking several of the hooded marchers off their feet. Even those who maintained their footing couldn’t avoid being drenched by the powerful force of the water. Several Klansmen drew guns and fired into the crowd. Some in the crowd returned fire.
The first to die was the man holding the nozzle of the fire hose, 22-year old Frank Miesko. Someone else took over for Miesko, continuing the town’s fight against the visitors. More shots rang out and 24-year old Phil Conrad, an innocent bystander who was standing away from the crowd, was hit. He had just stepped out of the local gymnasium where he was scheduled to keep the score for a playoff basketball game. Conrad would have turned 25 the next day. The third death was that of 26-year old Cloyd Paul, a South Fork resident who was said to have cut the wood that was used to make the crosses.
The Klan eventually fought their way to the train and started back toward Johnstown, many throwing their guns out the train’s windows along the way. In their wake they left 20 wounded, in addition to the three men killed. When they arrived in Johnstown, policed locked the train’s doors and searched every car before allowing anyone to exit. Weapons were confiscated, and 25 who still possessed guns were arrested. For the next several days, state policemen on horseback patrolled the town of Lilly.
One Klansman and one Lilly citizen were charged with murder. The charges were dropped when nobody was willing to testify against either one. Forty-four more, 28 Klansmen and 16 town citizens, were charged with rioting, affray, and unlawful assembly. All Cambria County judges recused themselves from trying the cases, and Judge Thomas E. Finletter was brought in from Philadelphia to preside. All 44 people charged were found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison. Before dismissing the court, Finletter, who apparently was a no-nonsense sort, vowed that anyone caught out on the streets that night would be arrested and charged with rioting. Nobody chose to see if he was serious.
For years the people of Lilly refused to discuss what happened that night, either with news reporters or anyone else. The fear that the Klan would retaliate was palpable, but the actions of the town were heard around the country. Many credit that night in April, 1924 in a small Cambria County town, with being the beginning of the end for the Klan. Their membership began to dwindle, and it never again reached the peak it had seen before they met the people of Lilly.
A monument, showing two joined hands holding back a group of Klansmen, has been erected in Lilly to honor those who stood up to hatred. Shown in the accompanying photo, it depicts two linked arms holding back a crowd of Klansmen.
Tomorrow: Frank Kush
Photo credit: Stephen Rzonca and Roadside America
As would be expected, the years following the 1889 flood saw many citizens moving to higher areas in town. Beginning in 1890 and for the next 30 years, a new neighborhood, Roxbury, took shape. Johnstown’s population doubled, and much of that growth took place in Roxbury. In 1896 the Johnstown Passenger Railway Company extended their service to the neighborhood, with the line ending at the new Roxbury Park. In 1901 the borough of Roxbury and its park were annexed into the city.
In the ensuing years Roxbury Park became arguably Johnstown’s busiest park, especially on summer evenings. With athletic fields and courts, a walking trail, roller hockey rink, picnic pavilions, playground, and the Roxbury Bandshell (discussed in an earlier post), it’s easy to see why. This has been the case since 1895, although those who visited in 1895 saw a completely different atmosphere.
The park was created that year by a group known as the Tri-County Agricultural and Driving Association, and one of the biggest attractions at the park was horse racing. The next year the park hosted the Pennsylvania State Fair, attracting visitors from across the state.
When the association defaulted on a loan in 1904, the park was purchased by local stockbroker Frank Cresswell, who promptly quadrupled the harness track’s rent. Incensed by what he interpreted as a money grab, track manager John Pender moved on to a track in Westmont, which was “out in the country” at that time.
Part of the park was then subdivided into residential lots by the new owner. The rest of the park he leased to the Roxbury Park Amusement Association, a group of about 100 business and professional men who wanted to develop a modern pleasure resort. A map shown on an informational wayside marker at the park (see one of the attached photos) shows that, in addition to the race track with a lake in the middle, the park had a 2,000 seat grandstand with a skating rink beneath, merry-go-round, roller coaster, dancing pavilion, laughing gallery, crystal maze, vaudeville theater, upside down house, horticulture hall, enhanced lake attractions, and a boardwalk that stretched from the entrance to the dancing pavilion, a distance the equivalent of nearly three football fields.
By the time the park held a Grand Opening on Memorial Day, 1905 the name had been changed to Luna Park, after a facility in Pittsburgh. The new resort/park hosted regular gatherings of African Americans and Civil War veterans who celebrated the Emancipation Proclamation. Boxing matches and races involving those new motorized horseless carriages were regular events on the track, and the first motion pictures to be seen in Johnstown were shown in the park’s theater.
The park proved to be extremely popular, as can be seen in another of the accompanying photos, until a national recession hit in 1907. Attendance dropped dramatically, and a new owner, Luna Park Amusement Company, took over in 1910. Despite an influx of new money and fresh ideas, attendance never rebounded to the levels seen when the park was new. In 1921 a devastating fire ended any hope of Luna Park’s success, and it was closed. With no park to attract passengers, trolley service to the Roxbury area was halted a short time later.
In 1922 the city purchased the property, changed the name back to Roxbury Park, and proceeded with plans to convert the site into a municipal park. The lake was drained for safety reasons and the horticulture hall was demolished. In 1933 the Civilian Conservation Corps began working at the site, and in 1940 the Works Progress Administration constructed the Bandshell.
Today the park serves as the focal point for the city’s recreation programs. It is the home to more than 15 city-sponsored sports leagues and is used for high school football and soccer practices and games. Throughout the year, numerous fund raising and charity events are conducted here.
Tomorrow: Thomas Evans, Medal of Honor Recipient
Photo credits: Informational marker at Roxbury Park
Stephen Ditko was born on November 2, 1927, in Johnstown. His father, also named Stephen, worked for Bethlehem Steel as a master carpenter; his mother, Anna, was a homemaker. Both were immigrants from the former Czechoslavakia. The older Stephen was a talented amateur artist, as well as a fan of newspaper comic strips. Both characteristics rubbed off on Stephen, the son.
In junior high school young Stephen belonged to a group of students who built models of German airplanes. Themodels were so good that they were used by World War II civilian aircraft spotters. Graduating from high school in 1945, Stephen enlisted in the army on October 26, 1945 and used his artistic talents to draw comics for an army newspaper.
After the war Stephen enrolled in the Cartoonists and Illustrators School in New York. The school is known today as the School of Visual Arts. On of the instructors there was Batman artist Jerry Robinson, who had been Ditko’s boyhood idol. Robinson helped Ditko to get a scholarship in his second year, and he inadvertently shaped Ditko’s life by bringing in a guest lecturer named Stan Lee. Lee and Ditko would later collaborate to co-create Marvel Comics’s superheroes Spider-Man and Doctor Strange.
Ditko’s professional career began in 1953, illustrating comic books for Key Publications. He next found work with the creators of Captain America, inking the backgrounds. He also began writing story lines, but when he contracted tuberculosis in 1954 he left Key Publications and returned to Johnstown to recover.
In late 1955 he felt well enough to return to New York, where he began drawing for Atlas Comics, which would later become Marvel Comics. He contributed a number of stories to Atlas’s “Strange Tales”, often co-written with Stan Lee, the guest lecturer he had met at the Cartoonists and Illustrators School. The two became so popular that Atlas decided to do a spinoff, using stories created by Ditko and Lee exclusively. The publication was named “Amazing Adult Fantasy” and the Ditko-Lee combination would later be known as the Marvel Method of writer-artist collaboration.
When Lee became editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics he sought permission form publisher Martin Goodman to create a teenage superhero. Once approved, Lee asked his leading artist, Jack Kirby, to assist. Kirby has dreamed up a character several years earlier that he alternately called Silver Spider or Spiderman. When Kirby showed Lee some sample pages, Lee felt the character was too over the top. He turned to Ditko, providing him with the Spiderman name and assigning Ditko to come up with a costume design for the main character. The concept would eventually become Spider-Man. Despite the similarity in names, Lee insisted that Ditko’s creation not be anything like Kirby’s.
Spider-Man debuted in Amazing Fantasy’s August 1962 issue and became an instant hit. Beginning ten issues later, Ditko received plot credit for the stories in the magazine. Ditko’s illustrations in the story “If This Be My Destiny,” featured in the February 1966 issue, were considered among the most iconic in the Spider-Man history, and the story was named Number 15 in the 100 Greatest Marvels of All Time.
In July 1963 Ditko introduced supernatural hero Doctor Strange. Lee gave Doctor Strange the first name of Stephen, in honor of Ditko. The Doctor Strange character was overshadowed by Spider-Man, but Ditko’s artwork was highly acclaimed, and the character became a favorite of college students. Ditko’s surrealistic style was compared by historians to Slvadore Dali’s paintings.
In addition to Doctor Strange, Ditko also drew comics starring the Hulk and Iron Man, and designed the Hulk’s main antagonist, the Leader. His off-beat artistic style was a favorite of readers, but after four years of drawing Spider-Man, Ditko left Marvel. The reason for his departure was never determined with certainty, but observers all agreed that Ditko and Lee always seemed to be at odds over the characters.
He would go on to draw for Charleton Comics, DC Comics, Eclipse Comics, Valiant Comics, and Defiant Comics, working on such characters as Captain Atom, Blue Beetle, the Creeper, and countless others. He would finally retire in 1998.
Never one to grant interviews or interact with fans, Ditko was found unresponsive in his New York apartment on June 29, 2018. He was believed to have died within the previous two days of a myocardial infarction. Over his career he received more awards than will fit into this post. He hated them all, and chastised a publisher who accepted one on his behalf when Ditko didn’t bother showing up at one award ceremony. Under Ditko’s orders, the publisher returned the award.
Thanks to reader Heidi Jung, who suggested the topic for today’s post.
Tomorrow: Luna Park
Photo credits: Marvel Comics
As we drive around Johnstown we can’t help but notice the concrete river walls that have become so much a part of our daily lives. We see them so often that most of us never give them a second thought. I alluded to them in my earlier posts on the floods that have plagued Johnstown, but today we’ll look at them in more detail.
After the 1936 flood Johnstown was given a promise by Secretary of War George H. Dern and Major General Edward M. Markham that the federal government was going to see to it that flood control steps would be taken to guarantee that floods would no longer be a part of our routine. That promise was bolstered in a speech by President Franklin D. Roosevelt given at Roxbury Park in August 1936. That speech and a small marker commemorating the event were the subjects of an earlier post.
That same year, independent of any federal action, the Pennsylvania legislature implemented a statewide 10% tax on the sale of alcohol, the proceeds of which were to come to Johnstown to assist in the recovery effort. That tax became known as the Johnstown Flood Tax, and by 1942 it had generated $42 million for Johnstown’s flood relief. Seeing a good thing, the state made the tax permanent in 1951, but removed Johnstown as the sole recipient. The state’s general treasury now became the beneficiary. Since then the tax has ben increased twice, to 18%.
Then, before the federal government could do anything, floods struck again, this time on April 26, 1937. By now, city officials had heard enough talk, and demanded action. Mayor Daniel Shields led a group of local movers and shakers to Washington, where they met with congressmen and senators. Their meetings must have done some good, because the Flood Control Act of 1936, designed to construct dams and provide flood control along the rivers of Pennsylvania, was quickly (for congress) passed. The first payment of $1,000,000 was authorized in September, 1937, to be applied to a $7,600,000 flood control project for the city.
The project specifically called for enlargement and deepening of the city’s river channels to facilitate water flow during periods of heavy rains or other high water events. The Little Conemaugh River channel was restored to its original 125 feet width. Similarly, the Stonycreek Rive channel’s width was restored to 225 feet and that of the Conemaugh River increased to 260 feet. Concrete river walls were also constructed and can be seen in the accompanying photos. (The color photo is what the walls look like today.) At the time, the Johnstown project was the largest flood control system in the nation.
The entire project was completed in 1943 and, with the exception of the 500-year storm of 1977, Johnstown has been spared from the major flooding that was so common in years past. After the 1977 flood the Army Corps of Engineers assessed the effects of the flood control project and determined that, despite the damage and loss of life, the project did its job, reducing the potential flood level in the city by 11 feet. The study also determined that many more lives would have been lost without the flood control, and that damage would have been twice as extensive.
While we can’t really say we are the Flood Free City, we can definitely breathe a bit easier than our ancestors did when heavy rain was predicted.
Tomorrow: Steve Ditko
Photo credits: black and white photos courtesy of the Library of Congress
Yesterday’s post discussed the floods that Johnstown experienced between 1808 and 1889. Today we will cover the period since the infamous 1889 flood.
Even with the 1889 flood behind us, Mother Nature was still not finished. On February 17, 1891 flooding once again dislodged a house from its foundation and damaged others. For the first time, steps were taken to minimize future flooding, when the Conemaugh River was widened to 200 feet to increase the flow of water.
On May 20, 1894 heavy storms and winter thaw runoff caused local rivers to rise six feet in one hour. Lower areas flooded and six railroad cars derailed when the train inadvertently passed over a section of track that had ben washed out. Two lives were lost (13 year old Thomas McFeeters and a 13 year old girl named Gates).
On February 28, 1902 snow melt and ice thaw caused rivers to rise again. Horses were said to be belly deep on Napoleon Street. Business lost significant stock and 6,000 found themselves out of work when Cambria Iron Lower Works flooded. The waters deposited several thousand tons of sand on Iron Street, most of which was used by contractors in the rebuilding effort.
The rivers overflowed yet again in early June, 1906, causing the depth on streets to rise four feet in one hour. Sewers backed up and basements flooded along Valley Pike and the 1st, 2nd, 5th, 7th, and 8th wards. Water levels were measured at 17 feet at the Franklin Street Bridge, and the B&O Railroad shut down for several days. In a tragic incident, water levels rose to eight feet deep inside buildings at Island Park in Benscreek, drowning most of the animals.
What was reported to be the worst flooding since the 1889 flood took place on March 14, 1907 when heavy rains and melting snow swept houses, small buildings, and fences away. When rising water threatened a livery stable on Vine Street (where the First Lutheran Church now stands) the stable attendants forced the horses to swim to a safe location on Lincoln Street. When the water went down, citizens were shocked to see hundreds of catfish and suckers strewn along streets. The smell was said to be overpowering within a few days. Ironically, the flood proved to be a boon to local merhants, who reported sales of $5000 worth of boots in one afternoon. Sadly, this flood produced one fatality, the son of the pastor of First United Brethren church, who was pulled into the current as he was attempting to lasso some drifting logs and got tangled in the rope.
The winter of 1935-36 was the worst in years. On March 15-16, 1936, heavy rains and snow melt combined with rapidly rising temperatures to produce what became known as the St. Patrick’s Day Flood. Appliances, pianos, and debris was said to be floating through the streets. Bridges cracked and crumbled. Houses were forced off their foundations. Overturned cars were crushed against buildings. A high water mark at Locust Street and Lee Place was measured at 12.37 feet, five feet lower than in 1889, but water in Cambria City rose 1-1/2 feet higher than in 1889 because water wasn’t backed up at the Stone Bridge. Damages totaled millions of dollars. Then, panic ensued when a rumor was spread that the Quemahoning Dam had broken, a rumor that proved to be false. Once again the Red Cross came in to assist the 9,000 homeless. Fatalities were listed at 25. A curfew was established, sightseers were banned, and alcohol sales suspended. The National Guard arrived, including 1,724 men from the 112th Infantry, part of the 110th infantry, a squadron of cavalry, and a hospital company. Also arriving were 80 state troopers. Some 7,000 men and 350 trucks from the Works Progress Administration projects in neighboring counties were brought in to clean up, and the WPA promised that all damaged or destroyed property would be repaired or rebuilt at no cost to the city. Most importantly, though, was the assurance from Secretary of War George H. Dern and Major-General Edward M. Markham, Chief of Army Engineers, that flood control measures would be taken to prevent future recurrence. To reinforce that promise, on August 13 President Franklin D. Roosevelt came to see the damage and promised in a speech a Roxbury Park (featured in a previous post) that the federal govt. would cooperate with city and state officials to prevent future floods.
Before anything could be done regarding flood control, however, Johnstown fell victim to flooding once again. On April 26, 1937 heavy rainfall produced water depths as high as five feet on some city streets. Official measurements of the Stonycreek River showed a depth of 17.53 feet. Merchants moved their inventories, plate glass windows were barricaded, street car service was stopped, and vehicle traffic was suspended. The temporary Franklin Street Bridge, newly erected by the WPA, was swept away, and the new Ferndale Bridge, still under construction, was damaged. The Red Cross set up yet another refugee center to help those who had left their homes. Now out of patience, a delegation headed by Mayor Daniel Shields went to Washington to demand action on food control, and five months later the first phase of funding was authorized by Congress. When completed in 1943, the city proclaimed itself as the “Flood Free City,” a claim that would prove more promotional than factual.
Hurricane Hazel in 1954 and Hurricane Agnes in 1972 both dumped huge amounts of rain on the city and the river channels had contained the water, perhaps leading to a feeling of complacency. On July 19, 1977 Johnstown learned that it really wasn’t flood free. That night multiple thunderstorms passed over the city, one after another, dropping nearly 12 inches of rain by morning. The National Weather Bureau described the phenomenon as “training,” much like one car of a train following the one in front. Lightning flashed constantly, and six dams in the area failed. River channels designed to handle 81,500 cubic feet of water per minute were given the impossible task of handling 115,000 cubic feet per minute. Six dams in the area failed, releasing another estimated 128,000,000 gallons of water on the already drenched city. The flooding took 85 lives in the area and did an estimated $300 million in damage. The names of the flood victims are engraved on a memorial that was erected in Central Park (photo attached).
The 1977 flood also took a tremendous economic toll on the area. Many businesses never reopened, infrastructure was destroyed, but the biggest blow was brought by the decision by Bethlehem Steel Corporation to only open a fraction of its mills, and eventually would close even those. Where once 18,000 people had worked, now the lights were turned off. Thousands of supplemental jobs were also lost, adding to the disaster. Just five years earlier Johnstown had been named an All-American City. The 1977 flood brought it to its knees. But just as quickly, under the banner “We Will Rebuild together,” the recovery began, and Johnstown showed the world the real meaning of the word “resiliency.”
Tomorrow: Flood Control
Photo credits: JAHA
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If I were to ask you how many floods Johnstown has had, what would be your answer? Three? Two? Only one? As it turns out, floods are nothing new to Johnstown. We think of 1889, 1936, and 1977 when we think of floods. However, history says otherwise: since flooding was recorded, Johnstown has experienced 19 measurable floods. In fact, there have been so many that they can’t all be included in one post, so this will have to be a two-part posting.
The first recorded flood took place in Spring, 1808, when rain and runoff from snow melt caused rivers to rise and flood the streets. Citizens fled to higher ground but there were no casualties and only minimal damage. Three years later, in 1811, the Stonycreek Dam gave way, washing away the Cambria Forge at the head of Vine Street and flooding local streets again. In 1816 torrential rains caused a sudden rise in the rivers and street flooding. Once again, local citizens headed for higher ground to escape the rising water.
1820 was the year of the famous Pumpkin Flood. Rivers rose again, and water was reported to reach to the tops of fences. The waters swept cattle, barns, fences, houses, and the large crop of pumpkins as far as the Ohio and Mississippi Valleys. Most of this was from farms in the 15th and 16 Wards, what is now Cambria City. Of all the livestock swept away, only one cow survived. She was rescued near Coopersdale.
In 1847 the South Fork Dam (Yes, that one!) broke. Newly constructed, it damaged the canal and basin and carried canal boats from the basin that had been kept there for loading and unloading. Water ran four to six feet deep in the area now occupied by Gautier Works at the edge of downtown.
Heavy rains caused flooding once again in 1859, forcing the rivers over the banks. Areas below Walnut Street downtown were impassable from the flooding, but local citizens were becoming jaded to the high waters that were happening every few years. This time, the flooding hardly raised any excitement.
After the Pennsylvania Railroad purchased the South Fork Dam (discussed in my post about the Allegheny Portage National Historic Site a few days ago) the railroad determined that they really had no use for the dam and stopped maintaining it. As would be expected, the dam deteriorated, and in July 1862 two leaks released sufficient water to flood the entire valley. The entire lower portions of the city were under water. By the time the water level at the dam dropped below the leaks, the dam was half empty.
The weather was relatively subdued for six years, until March 13, 1868 when a sudden Spring thaw and breaking river ice caused the rivers to overflow. The Kernville bridge was swept from its moorings and two houses on what was then known as Goose Island were destroyed. Otherwise, most of the damage occurred to farm land. Fields had to be retilled and sowed, but property damage was minimal aside from that mentioned. The flooding did spawn a new custom for Johnstowners, though. After this, livestock was moved to higher ground any time floods threatened.
Then, once again the city got a respite, with no flooding until June 7, 1887. Then a storm front hit the ridges and stalled once again, with the heavy rainfall flooding all streets below Jackson Street. The water ran six to eight feet deep at the Point, causing people to move their furniture to higher floors. Two bridges were carried away, and overall damage was estimated at $75,000 to $100,000 damage (between $2,000,000 and $3,000,000 today).
On Monday, August 20, 1888, steady rain fell for 24 hours. Local citizens breathed a sigh of relief when the rain stopped, but after a short lull came the deluge. The Stonycreek River rose seven feet in 2-1/2 hours. Water at the Point ran four feet deep, and driftwood piled up and stuck at the Point Bridge, hindered drainage and flooding houses up to the second floor. Those in low areas moved to the hills. In reference to the city’s location, surrounded by hills, a frustrated Tribune editorial lamented that “. . .a two inch stream can’t be forced through a one inch pipe.”
Then came that fateful day: May 31, 1889. Heavy rainfall and poor maintenance caused the dam at the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club to break, sending more than 4,000,000,000 gallons of water into Johnstown. Many tried to move to high ground, but flooded streets hindered their progress. After the waters receded, 2209 were dead, about 80 of them dying when caught in debris that backed up and caught fire at the Stone Bridge. Water backed up to the 8th Ward (then known as Grubtown), then released again, catching many that thought they were now safe. Johnstown became the site of the worst natural disaster in American history, a dubious title we would hold until 1906, when the San Francisco earthquake an estimated 3,000 lives, and again in 1909, when the Galveston hurricane took some 8,000 lives. Even today, the History Channel considers the Johnstown Flood as third worst.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s floods, Part 2
Photo credits: JAHA
In 1874 a new Episcopal church was dedicated at 335 Locust Street downtown. The new church took on the name of St. Mark’s. Thirty-four years later, on May 31, 1889, that church was destroyed by floodwaters.
Not only did the congregation lose their building, they also lost their pastor, the Reverend Alonzo Potter, along with his wife and two children, plus 43 members of the congregation. All were lost in the flood waters.
Within days, Clara Barton and a delegation of 50 doctors, nurses, and other relief workers arrived in Johnstown to assist in the recovery effort. While at the site of what used to be the church, she spoke to authorities about the possibility of building one of her temporary “hotels” on the site. Once permission was received, she supervised the construction of a two-story hospital, using lumber brought in for the recovery effort. Before she was done, five such shelters were constructed. The one on the site of St. Mark’s was known as the Locust Street Hotel. Rent was free, and meals could be had for 25 cents or less. The hotels all had the same amenities. The St. Mark’s facility opened on July 27, 1889 and remained in operation until April 1890.
The hotel had 34 rooms and all the temporary hotels had the same basic amenities: hot and cold running water, kitchens, and laundries. However, the Locust Street Hotel was a cut above the other hotels built by the Red Cross. The reason? Barton wanted it to cater exclusively to the wealthy and the town fathers. Her explanation was that these were the men who would be leading the recovery effort, and that they were already working in the mud and rain and ” … it was vitally necessary that their lives should be preserved …”
When the hotel was closed it was dismantled by the Red Cross, along with one of two outbuildings on the site. The other outbuilding was left in place at the request of the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Pittsburgh. It would serve as a temporary church until May 31, 1891. On that date, a new church was dedicated on the two-year anniversary of the flood. In the two years the temporary church was in service, it was known as The Ark. One item, the church bell, had been salvaged from the floodwaters and was installed in the temporary church, to provide at least a semblance of normalcy for the congregation.
Although she expected nothing in return for her efforts, several members of the congregation helped at the shelter despite many of them having lost their own homes. The Pittsburgh bishop also sent representatives to Johnstown to minister to residents of the shelter.
During preparations for the church’s 100th anniversary in 1991, two time capsules were discovered. One was from the original church, the other from the current church’s dedication 100 years earlier.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s Floods
Photo credit: Red Cross Hospital – JAHA
If you’ve ever driven on Menoher Boulevard, at some point you may have wondered why it is pronounced Ma-nock-er, or how did it get its name in the first place. I can’t help you much with the pronunciation of the name, but I can tell you where the name came from. The road is named for Major General Charles Thomas Menoher, a Johnstown native who was born March 20, 1862 to Civil War veteran Samuel and Sarah Jane Menoher. He was the fifth of eight children in the family and attained great heights in the United States Army.
Menoher graduated from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point as a classmate of General John J. Pershing. Five years after graduating, he married Nannie Pearson, with whom he had four sons. Three of those sons would follow in his footsteps and graduate from West Point, one of them a classmate of General Dwight D. Eisenhower.
Commissioned as an artillery officer, Menoher served in Cuba and the Philippines during the Spanish-American War. After the war he graduated from the Army War College and was selected for the first General Staff Corps, serving from 1903 to 1907. From 1916 to 1917 he held the rank of colonel and commanded the 5thField Artillery Regiment. He then saw a series of rapid promotions.
In August 1917 he was promoted to Brigadier General as commander of the American Expeditionary Force’s Artillery School in France. He was succeeded as commander of the 5thArtillery Regiment by Douglass MacArthur. Three months later he became Assistant Division Commander of the famed Rainbow Division (42nd Division), became commander in December, and led the Division through WW I. He participated in the Champagne-Marne offensive and in the successful Allied offensives of Saint Mihiel and Meuse-Argonne. As the war wound down, Menoher assumed command of the VI Corps and was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal, along with awards from France, Belgium, and Italy.
In 1918 the United States Army Air Service was organized, and Menoher was selected to serve as its first Chief. He held that position for three years. There he found himself constantly clashing with Brigadier General Billy Mitchell over the organization of military air resources, and he requested an assignment with troops. He was promoted to Major General in March, 1921 and placed in command of the army’s Hawaiian Division, moving up to take command of the entire Hawaiian Department from 1924 to 1925.
In 1925 Menoher took command of the IX Corps Area in San Francisco, a position he held until his mandatory retirement on March 20, 1926. His military career over, he returned to Johnstown where he lived until his death on August 11, 1930. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery in Section 3.
Tomorrow: St. Mark’s Episcopal Church
Photo credit: Arlington National Cemetery (Menoher portrait)
Philip E. Chapin was born December 1, 1838 in Connecticut, the son of Hermon and Catherine (Merrill) Chapin. He was one of nine children in the family. His father, Hermon, opened a factory in New Hartford, Connecticut in 1828 that produced wooden planes. A few years later, rulers were added to the product line. In 1860 Philip and two of his brothers, Edward and George W., reorganized the company, renaming it H. Chapin & Sons, but in less than a year, Civil War broke out and Philip signed on with Company F of the 15th Connecticut Infantry in 1862 and served until the end of the war in 1865.
Returning to Connecticut after the war, he married Amelia Bushnell in 1866, moving into an ornate mansion purchased as a wedding gift for the couple by Amelia’s father. That same year, Philip’s father died, prompting Philip to leave H. Chapin and Sons and form his own company, Chapin Machine Company, which made sewing machines. When Amelia died in 1878, leaving Philip with three young children, Philip moved to Ohio, then to Johnstown, where he went to work at the Cambria Iron Company. While working there, he met the daughter of General Manager Daniel Morrell, Anna, and the two were married in 1880. When Morrell retired as General Manager of the Cambria Iron Company in September 1877, Philip succeeded him.
In 1887, as was noted here in a previous post, Grandview cemetery was opened. To reach the cemetery from the valley below, a switchback road was constructed to enable horse-drawn carriages to navigate the elevation difference that was particularly pronounced in winter. That same year Daniel Morrell, Chapin’s father-in-law, died and was ultimately buried in what would become the family plot in Grandview. Morrell was also the subject of an earlier post.
On March 2, 1909, while on a trip to Europe, Anna died unexpectedly in Paris at age 57. The grief-stricken Philip was a widower for the second time. Looking for a way to honor Anna, he settled on an arch, through which the entry road to the cemetery would pass. In 1910, a year after Anna’s death. Chapin’s arch was complete. The road passed through the arch, then worked its way back and forth to come through a second arch that had been constructed six years earlier to honor Daniel Morrell.
The Chapin Arch served as the entrance to the cemetery until the 1940s, when Menoher Boulevard was constructed, providing a less winding route from downtown to the cemetery and the West Hills. The arch was abandoned, and over the next several years, out of service and neglected, it began to deteriorate.
In 1996 the cemetery association and Southmont Borough worked together to obtain a grant to repair the arch. At that time the arch was reinforced, the adjoining wall was repaired, landscaping was planted, and parking spaces were constructed. A second grant paid for an interpretive marker which included a photo showing the old road passing through the arch, as well as a short history of the structure. The photo on the interpretive marker at the arch is reproduced here to show the road. In 1999 the Southern Allegheny Conservancy took over the arch and surrounding park and will continue to maintain it as part of the Heritage Route overlooking the Conemaugh Gap.
Philip would marry a third time, this time to Harriett A. Darling in 1912. The marriage would last for three years, ending with Philip’s death on October 30, 1915. He was buried with Anna in the Morrell Circle at Grandview Cemetery.
Tomorrow: General Charles Menoher
On February 1, 1870 the Cambria Library Association was organized. Each member pledged $3, which was matched by the Cambria Iron Company. Within six months there were 206 members, and 770 books had been purchased. In 1877 Cambria Iron donated a plot of land across the street from the company’s offices on Washington Street, and paid for a new building. On March 5, 1881 that building was opened as the Cambria Library.
By 1889 the library, now known as the Cambria Free Library, had grown to 6,000 volumes and was operating as a U.S. government depository. It had become free and public, with no charge for borrowing books. Classes were offered at no cost in geology, mining, metallurgy, mechanical drawing, free-hand drawing, mathematics, physical geography, and political economy. In May of that same year the library was swept away in the flood, crushing to death the librarian when the building collapsed. A photo of the original library accompanies this post.
After the flood, Andrew Carnegie, one of the members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, came from Pittsburgh to witness the damage done to the city. It was the collapse of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club’s dam that caused the flood, and Carnegie was one of the few members to return to the area after the disaster. On learning that the library had been destroyed, Carnegie donated money to build a new one. In a letter to the Cambria Library Association dated November 28, 1889, Carnegie wrote, “If the Association will allow me to pay the cost of this restoration, I shall be very grateful to it indeed.” The building that now houses the flood museum was the new library that Carnegie paid for.
The library, today the Flood Museum, was built on the same property as the old library. The new library was stocked with 8,000 books and its first floor contained lecture rooms and a huge auditorium that became the town meeting hall. The library itself was on the second floor, while the third floor contained a gymnasium that included a padded leather exercise track. It became one of the very first of more than 2,500 Carnegie libraries in the world today and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It appears as one of the photos accompanying this post.
The building functioned as a library until 1971, when a new library was built just a few blocks away. At that time, the old library was closed. It sat empty until it eventually was refurbished and reopened two years later as the Johnstown Flood Museum, dedicated to the 1889 disaster. (In the interest of full disclosure, I was on the Board of Directors in the early years of the museum, so forgive me if I show some personal affection for the old building.)
The first floor of the museum, for those who haven’t been there, contains educational displays explaining what happened in 1889. Numerous artifacts are on display, including a listing of those known to have perished in the flood. A visitor favorite on this floor is the large relief map that uses small colored lights, complete with narration and sound effects, that dramatically show the path of the flood as it moved through the small towns and villages between the dam and downtown.
The second floor contains more photos and displays, but the undisputed feature on this floor is the Academy Award winning documentary on the flood produced by internationally acclaimed filmmaker Charles Guggenheim. The film won the award in 1990 for Best Documentary Short Subject.
The third floor houses the building’s original gymnasium, complete with the basketball court and running track. The craftsmanship that is still visible from the original construction is worth the time it takes to go to the third floor, even though there are no flood-related displays housed there. An impressive pipe organ, not original to the building is also on display.
Outside sits an authentic Oklahoma House, discussed here a few weeks ago. Oklahoma Houses, so named for the fact that they were built originally to be shipped to Oklahoma for use by homesteaders, were diverted to Johnstown in 1889 to provide emergency housing for flood survivors.
Thanks to JAHA and the Johnstown Flood National Memorial for providing the information for this post.
Tomorrow: Major League umpire Tony Venzon
Photo credit: Original library – JAHA
Paris has the Eiffel Tower, New York the Statue of Liberty. London claims Big Ben, and Rome has the Coliseum. But none of these has what Johnstown has: the world’s steepest vehicular inclined plane!
When seeing it for the first time, visitors often ask, “Why wasn’t this used to haul people to safety during the 1889 flood?” It’s a fair and logical question, but the answer is simple: It didn’t exist in 1889.
The inclined plane wasn’t built until a year after the 1889 flood, and didn’t carry its first passengers until 1891. The Cambria Iron Company constructed the railway with a dual purpose. Its primary use was to provide transportation to the new community on top of the hill, Westmont, where many Iron Company executives were living, but its secondary function was to be used in the event of future flooding, as remote a possibility as that seemed at the time. However, it was used exactly for that purpose in 1936, when it hauled nearly 4,000 people to safety, and again in 1977 when a third devastating flood hit the city. In that flood it didn’t return to the downtown station empty. After taking passengers up the hill to safety, it brought down emergency personnel and boats on the return trip.
Inclined planes were popular in Europe in the 1800s and many of the city’s immigrants remembered riding them before coming to America. And weren’t there 10 inclined planes already operating in the area on the Allegheny Portage Railroad? Samuel Diescher, an internationally known designer from Pittsburgh, was commissioned to come up with a system that would function on the hillside’s 70.9% grade, which would be no easy feat. Of course, Cambria Iron Company would construct the rails and cables.
Dieschler had designed inclines in the past, including those in Pittsburgh. He also was designing the operating machinery for the first Ferris Wheel, which was slated to make its debut at the Chicago World’s Colombian Exposition in 1893. He came up with a remarkably simple design, using a two-track system with a car on each track. The cars counterbalanced one another, meaning when one car descended, its weight helped pull the second car up. Originally, a steam engine was utilized to power the ascension. It was later replaced with a more modern electric motor.
The cars, which today weigh 22 tons each, originally were double decker types, although they were redesigned to single deckers in 1921. The double deckers hauled horses and wagons on the upper decks and passengers on the lower decks. The cars each have a capacity of 65 passengers, six motorcycles, or one car, or any combination of those. At one time, when buses were smaller, they also used the incline to travel between downtown and Westmont.
The travel route is nearly 900 feet, with a vertical lift of slightly more than 500 feet. Its 70.9% grade makes the Incline the steepest vehicular inclined plane in the world. It is also considered one of the longest and steepest hoists of any kind in the world. On the opposite side from the Visitor Center is an observation deck providing birds-eye views of the Incline’s cars and the downtown area.
The system has been unusually safe, with only one fatality in its history, although on two occasions a horse did get spooked and jump from the car. The fatality was found to be unrelated to the incline itself.
Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, the Incline is credited with making Westmont one of America’s first residential suburbs. Today the Inclined Plane is used mostly by commuters and tourists, who enjoy one of the most unique means of travel anywhere in the world.
Tomorrow: Hugh “Duffy” Daugherty
Actor Charles Bronson was born in nearby Ehrenfeld on November 3, 1921, the 11th of 15 children, to Lithuanian father Valeris Bucinskis and Pennsylvania-born Mary (Valinsky). His father eventually changed the name to Buchinsky, to sound more American. His father spoke no English, so none was spoken by any of the family at home. Even when he learned English, Bronson said his accent was so thick that friends thought he came from another country. Bronson ultimately became multi-lingual, speaking English, Lithuanian, Greek, and Russian.
The family was extremely poor during the Great Depression, and Bronson (still known then as Charles Dennis Buchinsky) said the family went hungry many times. He also recalled having to wear a sister’s dress to school because he had no boy’s clothes. His father died when Charles was 10, forcing Charles to work in local coal mines to feed the family, but despite the hardships, Bronson became the first in his family to graduate from high school. Following graduation he enlisted in the Army Air Force and flew 25 combat missions in WW II, receiving a Purple Heart for wounds received in battle in the Pacific Theater.
After leaving military service Bronson worked at odd jobs until he joined a Philadelphia theatrical group. Moving to New York because of better theatrical opportunities, he shared an apartment with another struggling actor, Jack Klugman. In 1950 he moved to Hollywood, enrolled in acting school, and began working in small roles. His first role was as a sailor in “You’re in the Navy Now,” a role so small that he wasn’t even credited. He would go on to appear in dozens of movies and television shows. Because of his rugged looks most of his roles were destined to be villains, tough guys, cowboys, or soldiers.
In 1954 he officially changed his name from Buchinsky to Bronson, not only because he thought it would help his acting career, but also because the McCarthy hearings were in full swing and he feared having a foreign name may be enough to raise suspicion.
At about the same time, he branched off into television, appearing mostly as a cowboy or a detective. In 1958 he scored his first leading role, playing a former combat photographer who was working as a detective in an ABC series called “Man With a Camera.” The series lasted three seasons. Never one to sit still, Bronson worked in both movies and television after the series ended. Some were low budget, low paying support roles, while others became hits. “The Magnificent Seven” brought him to the attention of the viewing public, and he even became a star in Russian movie houses.
In 1961 he received an Emmy nomination for a supporting actor in a CBS episode of General Electric Theater, a series hosted by future president Ronald Reagan. His career began to soar, and he was rarely without work. Producers came calling, and he soon found himself in such hit movies as “The Great Escape,” “The Dirty Dozen,” and “The Sandpiper.” He began starring in European movies, and by 1973 he was considered to be the top box office attraction in the world, commanding $1,000,000 per film. In 1980 he was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He had come a long way from the nights he cried himself to sleep as a hungry child.
In August 1998 he had hip-replacement surgery and his health seemed to deteriorate from that point on. On August 31, 2003 he took his last breath in Los Angeles. His poor health in his final days is reflected in his death certificate, which lists his causes of death as respiratory failure and metastatic lung cancer, with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and congestive cardiomyopathy. He was buried in West Windsor, Vermont, where he had owned a horse farm with his second wife, Jill Ireland.
Tomorrow: The Inclined Plane
Photo credit: Wikipedia
To ship goods or travel from one end of the state to the other in the early 1800s took nearly a month by horse and wagon, assuming the trails were in decent condition. In muddy or snowy weather, it took longer. When New York addressed a similar problem by building a series of canals, Pennsylvania saw a way to shorten the travel time and began building canals of its own. It seemed as if the problem was solved. That is, until it quickly became apparent that canals wouldn’t work in the Allegheny Mountains.
A system of combining canals with a railroad system had been used in England. Engineers in the U.S. decided it may also work here, and a railroad combined with 10 inclined planes, five on each side of the mountain, was designed. Under this plan, using an east to west shipment as an example, canal boats shipped goods from Philadelphia to Hollidaysburg. At the Hollidaysburg Canal Basin, the boats would be placed on flatbed railroad cars. Stationary steam engines at each incline pulled the cars up or down, as shown in one of the accompanying photos. At the Johnstown Canal Basin the boats were placed back in operation and followed a canal from Johnstown to Pittsburgh.
Charles Dickens wrote extensively on his fascination with the system on his travels. Considered a marvel of technology, the passage over the mountain became known as the Wonder of America. It is credited with playing a major role in opening the interior of the country for commerce. Features along the line were the Samuel Lemon House (a tavern at the Cresson summit that was popular with travelers and is now a museum operated as part of the Allegheny Portage Railroad National Historic Site), the Staple Bend Tunnel (the first railroad tunnel in the United States, located near Mineral Point and operating as a separate portion of the National Historic Site), and a skew arch bridge ( a bridge that bent in the middle and carried a road over the tracks). Photos of the Lemon House, the skew arch bridge, and an engine house also appear with this post.
Because it was used primarily as a portage over the mountain, it was known as the Portage Railroad. Part of that system was the Staple Bend Tunnel, which will be a future post. The railroad was 36 miles in length, and the canal/railroad system cut travel time from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh from nearly a month to only four days. The Allegheny Portage Railroad operated successfully from 1834 until 1854.
It was doomed, however, when the Pennsylvania Railroad completed its rail line across the state. With more powerful locomotives, rail traffic could now navigate the mountains without the need for the inclines. Travel time was reduced once again, this time from the typical four days to only 13 hours. The state put the Pennsylvania Mainline Canal system up for sale, and for 10 years there was no buyer. In 1857, the PRR negotiated a price that it found to be satisfactory, and a sale was consummated. The PRR abandoned most of the line, except for a few places where the tracks were used for local traffic.
On August 31, 1964 the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives jointly approved Public Law 88-546, authorizing the Secretary of the interior to designate up to 950 acres of land near Gallitzen to establish the Allegheny Portage National Historic Site and another 55 acres that would create the Johnstown Flood National Memorial. The Johnstown Flood National Memorial has been discussed in a previous post.
Tomorrow: Charles Bronson
Photo credits: all photos courtesy of the National Park Service
After the end of the Civil War veterans around the country expressed a desire to commemorate their actions by placing monuments at battlefields where they fought, or in their hometowns. The best known local regiment, the 54th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, was no different, and they placed a statue in Central Park. Over the years the ravages of flood waters, accidents (a car actually knocked the statue off its pedestal in one memorable incident), and vandalism took their toll, and after the 1936 flood the statue was removed. The space it had occupied for decades stood empty until 2000, when local chapters of the Sons of Union Veterans, the SUV Ladies Auxiliary, and the Sons of Veterans Reserve raised funds to replace it.
The statue was sculpted by renowned sculptor and artist Gary Casteel and is based on a likeness of Private John Hissong of the regiment’s Company A. The statue is intended to honor all Civil War veterans from the area, but especially the 54th PVI.
The 54thPennsylvania Volunteer Infantry was organized in 1862 by Jacob M. Campbell, who had also served with the 3rd Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. Campbell was appointed as colonel of the 54thPVI for his role in its organization. At the end of the war he would be brevetted a brigadier general, an honorary rank, for his outstanding service. Campbell returned to Johnstown and serve as surveyor general (later secretary of internal affairs) for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Later, he would be elected to Congress, where he served four terms. In Johnstown, he lived at the corner of Lincoln and Walnut Streets, a site now occupied by the First Presbyterian Church. His photo accompanies this post.
The regiment was almost exclusively from the Johnstown area, with Companies E and I containing only men from Cambria County. Companies B, C, D and G were made up of Somerset Countians. Cambria and Somerset Counties were also represented in Companies A and H, meaning most of the regiment was made up of men from around here. They fought in many engagements throughout the Civil War, including the Battle of New Market, where they gained legendary status.
At New Market they were part of a charge by the Union army that was met by stiff resistance. When other Union troops retreated unexpectedly, the 54th PVI found itself unsupported and in danger of being surrounded. Colonel Campbell ordered a fighting retreat, with the regiment stopping twice to make defensive stands. Their actions were credited with allowing other Union troops to make a safe withdrawal. The 54th suffered heavy casualties in the process. The part of the battlefield where they made their stand is now known as The Bloody Cedars, for the many cedar trees that dot the area. I was proud to feature the 54thPVI’s heroism in my book “Seed Corn of the Confederacy.”
In 1905, veterans of the regiment gathered where they had fought, where they dedicated a battlefield monument. A photo of the monument appears with this post. It is the only statue in Virginia that memorializes Pennsylvania troops in the Civil War. Virginia Civil War Trails admired the regiment’s actions so much that it erected a large marker adjacent to the statue telling what the regiment did at New Market. Following the ceremony, veterans returned to Johnstown with seedlings from the many cedars on the farm where they fought. Some of those seedlings were planted in Grandview Cemetery, where they continue to grow.
Near war’s end the 54th took part in the Union army’s attempt to cut off Confederate escape routes to North Carolina. At Rice’s Station in Virginia they encountered Confederate forces under the command of General James Longstreet. In that engagement, near the High Bridge Trestle, the men of the 54th were captured. They were released a few days later after the surrender of Robert E. Lee’s army at Appomattox.
The regiment produced three Medal of Honor recipients, John Mostoller, James Snedden, and Thomas Evans. I wrote about Snedden a few days ago. The other two will be discussed in future posts.
Tomorrow: Allegheny Portage Railroad National Historic Site
A few weeks ago I posted about the founder of Johnstown, Joseph Johns. It would be logical to think that if Joseph Johns was the founder of Johnstown he must have been the first person to settle here. That thinking would be incorrect. While there weren’t many white men living here when our founder arrived, there were some, and one was a man named Abram Stutzman, a local circuit-riding Dunkard minister. A CVS drug store now sits at the corner of Menoher Boulevard and Goucher Street, on the site of a school once named for Stutzman. Other familiar names are going to pop up throughout this post.
In the early 1800s western Pennsylvania was frontier territory, wild and untamed. The closest real settlement to Johnstown was Fort Ligonier, just a half-hour’s drive today but then it was an adventurous and dangerous all-day trek across the mountain. Stutzman, who had already built four log cabins in and around what is now Johnstown, built a fifth one along the wagon trail at the foot of the mountain on the Johnstown side.
The setting was ideal. A freshwater spring provided a year-round source of water, making it the only reliable watering source for travelers along the trail. There were no other spots along the trail for travelers, and the cabin became a natural rest stop for the weary and “saddle sore.” The open and welcoming nature of both Rev. Stutzman and his wife Sarah soon became well known, and it wasn’t long before not only travelers were stopping, but also people who just wanted a break in their daily life. “Let’s go see the Stutzmans,” became the refrain, and the Stutzmans were only too happy for the visits. Their kitchen never closed, and apparently Sarah knew how to use it. And, of course, there was always that fresh water spring and the pond it created. It was a welcome refresher on a hot day, for man and horse alike.
As a minister, Rev. Stutzman soon saw another use for his pond. Baptisms became a regular event, followed by weddings. The Stutzman daughters would be married inside the cabin, in their own spacious parlor. And the good pastor wasn’t finished. He knew how to read and write, a luxury few of the citizens of the area enjoyed. So, Stutzman took it upon himself to become a teacher, and his home became a school of sorts. For those who couldn’t spare the time to learn, or who didn’t have the desire, they knew who to come to if they needed a letter written or a document explained. And Rev. Stutzman always obliged.
Sometime in the early 1900s a man named Christopher Palliser purchased the property and stocked the pond with fish. What seemed like a good idea quickly went sour when the fish disappeared. Wild animals enjoyed the feast, along with a local poacher who was only too happy to see the fish all gathered into one place for him to catch. Two local streets surrounding the property today are a reminder of this well-intended man, Christopher Street and Palliser Street.
The Pallisers renovated the old cabin extensively over the years they lived there, covering the outside of the structure with stucco to modernize it. It now looked like the other homes springing up in the area. As the older Pallisers passed away, eventually the family willed the property to Westmont Borough. In 1968 the borough donated the home and surrounding grounds to the Johnstown Arts Associates, a group of artists who used the property for exhibits, classes, and art studios. It became the first permanent home for the Johnstown Allied Artists.
However, for the building to be open to the public, it had to be upgraded to current safety standards. In the process of installing fire safety improvements, the stucco was removed to reveal the original log structure.
The log cabin remains today, along with the pond, on the property of what is now known as the Cambria County Community Arts Center on Menoher Boulevard. It is easily seen while traveling on the upgraded and more modern wagon trail, and provides an outstanding link to our area’s past. The cabin is now the host of the popular Log Cabin Arts Festival, attended by thousands every year from around the country and, according to the folks at CCCAC, from around the world.
Many thanks to the Arts Center for providing the background information for this post.
Tomorrow: 54thPennsylvania Volunteers monument
Anyone who has been downtown in the vicinity of Central Park has seen it – that big church across Locust Street from the Post Office Building. It’s the Franklin Street United Methodist Church, one of Johnstown’s oldest. Its history, or at least the history of the congregation, goes back more than 200 years.
In 1809 Methodist Episcopals in Johnstown shared a building with local Presbyterians and Lutherans. The church, in a building called “Old Blackie,” was located at the corner of Napoleon and Market Streets, where Joseph Johns Junior High School would eventually be built.
In 1838 local Methodists chose the corner of what is now the corner of Franklin and Locust streets to build their church. As the congregation grew, the church underwent expansions in 1853 and 1869. Its 80-foot tall steeple is easily seen by anyone in the vicinity of Central Park. It is the only downtown church that predates the 1889 flood. It was also destined to play a major role in that disaster. In 1889 it was the largest church building in town, and the congregation was second in size only to St. Joseph’s, a nearby German Catholic church.
On that fateful day, May 31, 1889, the Reverend Henry L. Chapman was preparing his sermon for Sunday morning when something caught his eye outside the parsonage window. It was a railroad car, floating past the house! It had been raining all day, but it had not been raining hard enough to float a railroad car. He decided his sermon could wait. He gathered his family and rushed them to the attic. They spent the next several hours watching nearby houses being swept away when the South Fork Dam broke, while hoping their own home would not be next. After all, the parsonage had been their home for only a month and they had already grown to love it.
But the house stood firm, nestled next to the church, and their lives were spared. In fact, many lives would be spared because of the massive structure. When the flood waters hit the building, the church stood strong, causing the waters to split and go around. One reason for the building’s strength came from the material used in its construction: solid sandstone recycled from the Allegheny Portage Railroad and the canal that flowed through Johnstown at one time.
Those buildings, many of them anyway, that stood in the downstream side of the church remained standing because the church took the brunt of the force. One of those buildings spared from destruction was the Alma Hall, which was the subject of an earlier post. Many sermons would be preached in the coming weeks and months based on the church’s parting of the waters.
When the flood waters subsided it appeared that the church had survived with no damage. The exterior looked just as it did before the rains came and the dam burst. But the inside of the church was a different matter. Water stains inside the sanctuary showed that the water had reached a depth of 18 feet. The weight of that water, in turn, caused the floor to collapse. Plaster walls were ruined, and the choir loft and pews were unusable.
A committee charged with evaluating surviving structures inspected the church and decided it could not be salvaged. It was ordered to be dynamited and hauled away, until the commander of the relief troops learned the structure’s importance in saving many other buildings. He ordered that guards be placed around the church so that nobody could do any demolition until the committee reevaluated their decision. Fortunately for us, and for history, the committee reversed their position and the structure was saved.
Additional expansions took place in 1912 and 1958. The church would go on to survive two more major floods, in 1936 and 1977, making it one of the few churches in the country to endure three major disasters. It would also survive a major fire in 1950.
Reverend Chapman was one of three local clergymen (the other two were Reverend David J. Beale of the Presbyterian Church and Father Tahaney of St. John’s Catholic Church) who supervised disbursal of money from a large fund set up by New York newspapers to aid flood victims. Additional funding came from other Methodist churches, as well as a variety of other organizations around the world. What wasn’t needed to repair the church was re-donated by the church to individual flood victims.
Tomorrow: Community Arts Center of Cambria County’s log cabin
Alan Freed was born in Windber on December 15, 1921. His family moved to Ohio when Freed was 12, and following high school graduation he attended Ohio State University. While there he took an interest in radio, and during WW II he served in the Army working as a DJ on Armed Forces Radio. After the war he returned to civilian life and took a series of jobs at small radio stations, where he played hot jazz and pop recordings. He said he played those because he liked the rhythms.
In 1945 he took a job at an Akron, Ohio radio station, where he quickly became a local favorite. Six years later he moved to a Cleveland station, even though he had a non-compete clause in his Akron contract. Until he was able to convince his former station to release him from that restriction, he did a night show. He coined a new phrase for the type of music he played, calling it “Rock and Roll,” the first person ever to do that.
Once the non-compete clause was settled, Freed eventually moved to daytime radio at the same station in Cleveland, WJW. He adapted a rhythm and blues song called Moondog as his theme song, leading to calling his show the Moondog House and referring to himself as King of the Moondoggers. Regular listeners loved his energetic style in an era when most disc jockeys were more subdued, and began working hipster phrases into his on-air patter.
In 1952 he organized a show at the Cleveland Arena, featuring five Rock and Roll bands, that he billed as the Moondog Coronation Ball. It is considered the worlds first rock concert. The concert was so popular that the police shut it down early because the size of the crowd exceeded the legal capacity of the arena. The shortening of the show caused a near riot but increased Freed’s reputation, leading to increased airtime at WJW.
Two years later his popularity led to a job offer from station WINS in New York City. It would be called “Alan Freed’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Dance Party.” The added exposure made him even more popular, leading to appearances in several motion pictures. That popularity launched a new career in television, where he hosted a primetime series called The Big Beat. The show had high ratings but was cancelled the next season after black singer Frankie Lymon was shown dancing with a white girl.
In 1958, at a show in Boston, he told his audience that it looked like the Boston Police didn’t want them to have a good time after the police attempted to control some unruly members of the crowd. Freed’s comments got him arrested for inciting to riot and resulted in his being fired from WINS.
A year later, now working at WABC in New York, Freed was fired again, this time for accepting payments from record companies to play their records. The practice, although technically legal., was highly controversial. Referred to as “Payola”, it ensnared many DJs and was declared illegal in 1960. Unable to now find work at any big station, he moved to the west coast, working at smaller stations.
Alan Freed, the boy from Windber who coined the phrase “Rock and Roll”, died in 1965 in Palm Springs, California. He was only 43. He was initially buried in Hartsdale, New York, but his family later had his ashes buried in Lake View Cemetery in Cleveland. His headstone was made in the form of a jukebox.
In 1986, Freed was part of the first class to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He was inducted into the National Radio Hall of Fame a year later and received a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame three years after that. In 2002 he was posthumously presented with a Trustees Award at the Grammy Awards. The honors continued in 2017 when he was inducted into the National Rhythm and Blues Hall of Fame. Oh, yeah, … there was one more honor. The National Basketball Association’s Cleveland Cavaliers mascot was named Moondog, in honor of Alan Freed.
Tomorrow: Franklin Street Methodist Church
Photo credits: Grave – clevelandpeople.com, Disk Jockey – Alanfreed.co
In 1889 Johnstown had three newspapers, the Tribune, the Democrat, and the Freie Press, a paper written in German for the German immigrants who made up a large portion of the local immigrant community. The Tribune and the Democrat, as we know, merged in 1952 to become the Tribune-Democrat, the current local newspaper. Housed in the building shown in the photo, the Tribune was the largest of the three in terms of circulation, and many claimed it was the best in terms of quality.
On May 31, 1889 George T. Swank, proprietor and editor of the Tribune, watched the continuous rain pummel his second-floor office window. Swank was considered one of the best journalists in the business. He had worked for a while under the man many consider the greatest journalist of all time, Horace Greeley, and he had learned his lessons well. Badly wounded at Gettysburg, Swank was a perfectionist at his craft, despite the constant pain from his wound that would be a part of his life until the day he died. The pain was most intense on rainy days like this.
Swank had thought keeping a journal of the storm might make a good story, and he wrote of his growing concerns about the rate at which the rivers were rising. In fact, the water running down Franklin Street could no longer be distinguished from the river itself, both blending into one large body of water. He had begun the journal earlier in the day and planned to print it in the next edition of his weekly newspaper, but his employees had shut down the presses and were waiting out the storm. There would be no paper this week. To be unable to print was, in Swank’s mind, unforgiveable, but he was also a realist. The situation was getting bad. Downstairs, the post office had already closed, the postmaster having gone home in hopes of being able to beat the rapidly rising water.
Shortly after 3:00 pm Swank received a call reporting the deteriorating condition of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club’s dam. He had heard this before, and had often reported it in his paper. It had always held, but today seemed different somehow. His instinct was correct. Within an hour the contents of the dam would slam into his building with a fury he had never seen.
Swank watched in horror as buildings disappeared before his eyes. His employees rushed into the building next to the Tribune, moments before the wall of the Tribune’s print shop collapsed. They would spend the night on the building’s roof with no protection from the driving rain. Somehow, the Tribune building withstood the rush of water. Built in 1883, it was strong and sturdy, or so Swank hoped.
Soon, fires broke out on the few buildings that remained in place. As dusk came, Swank’s gaze wandered to the orange glow he saw coming from the Stone Bridge area. The debris was now burning so brightly that it still seemed like mid-afternoon. He recorded it in his journal.
The Tribunewould not publish again for two full weeks. As anger swelled against the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, a furious Swank wrote in one of his first issues after the flood, “We think we know what struck us, and it was not the hand of Providence. Our misery is the work of man.” Swank’s articles in the Tribune loosened the tongues of others in town who had been afraid to speak up against the rich and powerful, although they were not quite brave enough yet to give their names to the reporters from Pittsburgh who interviewed them. The Tribune, though, well, that was different. Swank had a bit of power of his own, and he felt an obligation to speak out against the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. His editorials gained him no friends in Pittsburgh.
Over the next weeks and months, the Tribune became a major source of information to not only the local readers, but also to the rest of the world, and Swank would become a major player in the recovery effort.
Tomorrow: Alan Freed
Michael Strank was born in Jarabena, Czechoslovakia on November 10, 1919. Strank and his family came to the United States in 1922, settling in Franklin, a suburb of Johnstown. He became a citizen when his father was naturalized in 1935 but never received a certificate of his own naturalization. Still, he enlisted in the Marine Corps following graduation from high school in 1937 and short stints with the Civilian Conservation Corps and with the state highway department.
He served on various bases in the United States and in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, before sailing for combat in the Pacific in 1942. On February 19, 1945 Strank was leading his men in the battle for Iwo Jima. The Japanese troops on the island had dug in with a labyrinth of fortified bunkers, artillery, and underground tunnels, all protected by mine fields.
On the fourth day of fighting, a patrol of Marines reached the summit of Mount Suribachi, an extinct volcano that overlooked the landing beaches. Shortly after, a small American flag appeared as the Marines below cheered. When it was determined that the flag was too small to be seen by the troops on the eastern end of the island, a larger flag was sent up. Meanwhile, Strank and three of his men were in the process of running communication wire up the mountain when they were joined by the marine carrying the flag to the top. When the five reached the summit they were joined by a sixth man.
The six men raised the second flag as Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal took the iconic photo that would win the Pulitzer Prize that year. Strank is difficult to see on the photo, but is easily seen on the Marine Corps War Memorial that depicts the photo and sits just outside the north end of the cemetery.
A week after the famous flag raising, their outfit, Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 28th Marines, 5th Marine Division, joined an assault on another heavily fortified part of the island. Coming under heavy sniper fire, Strank, said by his men to be the ultimate “Marine’s Marine,” led them to cover under a rocky outcropping. There, Strank was killed by what is believed to be a shell that came from an American ship moored offshore.
Strank was buried in the 5th Marine Division Cemetery, the first person in the famous flag-raising photograph to be killed. Soon, two others would join him. By battle’s end, nearly 7,000 U.S. military personnel, mostly Marines, lay dead, and nearly 20,000 were wounded, making it one of the war’s bloodiest fights.
On January 13, 1949 Strank’s remains were reinterred in Arlington National Cemetery’s Section 12. It was only after his funeral that his family learned that he had been one of the famous six flag raisers. They recalled seeing the photo in the local newspaper but had no idea that Strank was in the photo.
With his remains placed in Arlington, Strank’s story seemingly ended. But until 2008 the Marine Corps had been unaware of Strank’s immigrant background, believing that he had been born in Johnstown. A Marine security guard at the U.S. Embassy in the Slovak Republic who was researching Strank’s background found no record of Strank being an American citizen. Surprised, he filed an application for posthumous naturalization for Strank said. It was only then that the subsequent investigation revealed that Strank had been a citizen but never received his certificate of naturalization. That oversight was corrected when Strank’s sister was presented with his certificate in a ceremony in front of the Marine Corps War Memorial in July 2008.
Sergeant Strank earned the following decorations and medals in his time in service: Bronze Star, Purple Heart (awarded posthumously), Presidential Unit Citation with one star (for Iwo Jima), American Defense Service Medal with base clasp (for his service in Cuba before the war), American Campaign Medal, Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal with four stars (for Pavuvu, Bougainville, Consolidation of the Northern Solomons, and Iwo Jima), and the World War II Victory Medal.
A small park in Franklin now contains a memorial to Strank, and a bridge on Route 271 connecting Conemaugh and Franklin bears his name.
Tomorrow: AAABA Tournament
Photo credit – Strank photo, Tribune-Democrat
On May 31, 1889 the Day Express, a passenger train from Chicago via Pittsburgh, arrived at the Johnstown railroad station in two separate sections. There, both were held up because the eastbound tracks had washed out. While waiting, passengers got off the train to look at the debris that was piling up at the Stone Bridge, or to wave at local citizens hanging out of upper story windows. Finally, when a mail train came through, the Day Express was given clearance to follow it to East Conemaugh, using a westbound track to travel east. At East Conemaugh, the main yard for Johnstown, the trains were all held up once more. “Trouble up at Lilly”, they were told.
They weren’t there long until a telegraph message came to the yardmaster saying that the South Fork Dam was about to break, and those downstream should prepare for the worst. The yardmaster told those in the East Conemaugh station the news, bringing a chuckle from most of them. Those messages came in with regularity, and despite all those alarms, the dam was still there. Nobody showed concern. The yardmaster decided not to bother sending the message through.
Meanwhile, a work train sat along the tracks a short distance upstream. Warned that the track ahead was under water, the engineer and conductor walked ahead to see if they could safely go through. When it waw obvious that they couldn’t, they returned to the East Conemaugh yard and ate lunch. As they ate, another message came through, reporting a landslide at the nearby Buttermilk Falls. The work crew immediately went there to clear the slide, and had been there only a few minutes when they heard it. Just a low rumble at first. Then, as it got louder, the crew could see trees bending over. The engineer, John Hess, knew immediately what was happening. He jumped into his engine, tied down the whistle, and began a hair-raising dash to warn those downstream. Only when the floodwaters overtook the train did he and his crew jump out and make their way to safety as the locomotive and cars disappeared beneath the raging torrent.
His heroism would become legendary and would be talked about and written about and for years to come.
Back on the Day Express, passengers passed the time sleeping, reading, and keeping their children occupied. Of course, there was also the usual grumbling about the delay. The yardmaster had the engineer move the train to another track to get it away from the rising water, and those who looked back saw other tracks fall into the water, but few appeared to be overly uneasy about the situation.
Then, those with the best hearing heard it. It was a low-pitched hum at first, barely discernible over the pounding rain. Then, a bit louder, loud enough for all to hear. If it was another train it may mean the tracks were now open. Hopes were raised until someone said that no train ever made a sound like that. Soon a conductor was seen running between the trains, yelling “Run for the hill. Run for the high ground.”
Most rushed for the doors. Women pinned up their skirts and stepped into the rising water, but several refused to step out into the driving rain and mud. Those who left the train encountered another train on the adjoining rack, blocking their way. Some crawled between cars, others ran to the rear of the train to go around. Panic began to set in. There was no mistaking what the noise was now. A ditch presented a new obstacle. The more agile were able to jump over it. One man didn’t jump far enough. As his wife watched in horror, he was quickly swept away by the shoulder-deep water. His body would not be found for nearly two weeks.
It wasn’t long before railroad cars broke loose, then the heavier locomotives, all swirling in the rushing current. Some had people on top, trying to get as far above the water as they could. Floating houses joined in the chaos, slamming into one another and tossing their occupants into the surging tidal wave. Some of those who weren’t fast enough were crushed when the railroad cars toppled onto them. The stereoscope view of the Day Express (attached with this post) immediately after the flood gives a graphic idea of the force of the water.
The fortunate ones who made it to the hillside looked back in disbelief. Nothing that they had just left was recognizable now. Nearby Maple Avenue was gone, now a mudflat. Some insisted it was the end of the world. For many, it was.
An exact number of dead would never be known, nor would anyone know exactly how many were from the Day Express. An official listing showed 21 Day Express passengers confirmed dead, including three children. However, hundreds of victims would remain missing forever, never accounted for. One of every three that were found would never be identified. How many of those were from the Day Express will never be known.
The inevitable lawsuits against the Pennsylvania Railroad followed. Lawsuits for negligence, lawsuits for lost luggage, lawsuits for injuries suffered. Only one lawsuit would be won. It was that of a Philadelphia company who sued for the loss of 10 barrels of whiskey that had been stolen from one of the freight cars while a conductor watched the looters.
Tomorrow: Sgt. Michael Strank, Iwo Jima flag raiser
Photo credit: Library of Congress
Most of us who grew up in Johnstown, or who have lived here for any amount of time, are familiar with the story of the tragic events of May 31, 1889. Considering space limitations, I won’t go into a rehash of that disaster, other than to summarize it briefly by saying the failure of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club members to properly maintain their dam resulted in a failure of the breastworks that led to the deaths of 2,209 people in Johnstown and wiped out much of the city. Damages were estimated at $17,000,000 in 1889 values. That would be nearly $500.000.000 today. The Johnstown Flood National Memorial sits on the site of the dam and provides a tangible reminder of that infamous event.
The South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club was organized in 1879 by prominent Pittsburghers. The 16 original members paid $100 each to join. Soon, cottages (some would call them mansions) and the club house were built along the lake, giving the members a place to retreat to during the summer to get away from the dirt and smoke of Pittsburgh. Here they could sail, hunt, or fish. The setting was idyllic.
The original home of Colonel Elias Unger, the second president of the club, remains, and the area around the house was originally referred to as the Unger Farm. When the club was established, it overlooked Lake Conemaugh, and club members began referring to the area as the Lake View Farm, with Unger’s house being called the Lake View House. The dam would fail twice before the fateful breach in 1889, once in 1847 and again in 1862. Water levels in Johnstown reached a depth of about two feet and damage was minimal in those breaks. It is only fair to point out that the two earlier failures occurred before the club owned the property.
After the flood, club members rarely returned, and the cottages became inhabited by homeless flood survivors, often referred to as the Johnstown Colony. In 1904 all club buildings and their contents were auctioned off.
On August 31, 1964 the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives jointly passed Public Law 88-546, authorizing the Secretary of the Interior to designate up to 950 acres of land for the establishment of the Allegheny Portage Railroad National Historic Site and another 55 acres to establish the Johnstown Flood National Memorial. The Johnstown Flood National Memorial of today is triple that size.
The 1964 law would have a far-reaching impact on preserving the history of Johnstown and Cambria County. Today we’ll be looking at the Johnstown Flood National Memorial, with a post about the Allegheny Portage Railroad being held for a later date. My late grandfather was a survivor of the 1889 flood, as well as those in 1936 and 1977, and I am a member of the Friends of the Johnstown Flood National Memorial and a former member of the Board of Directors of the Flood Museum, so I have always had a vested interest in the memorial.
Administered by the National Park Service (NPS), the memorial is located on the site of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club and preserves the remains of the dam, as well as the historic structures associated with the club, including the clubhouse and cottages. (A future post will also discuss those structures). The north and south abutments are still visible, providing visitors with a view of the breach that culminated in the disaster.
Tomorrow: The Day Express Tragedy
Those of us who have been around awhile may remember going with our mom to McCrory’s, a downtown ‘five-and-dime’ store. Eating at their lunch counter was always a special treat. Little did we know, or care, that that store and hundreds like it around the country was started by local entrepreneur John G. McCrory.
John Graham McCrory was born in 1860 in East Wheatfield Township, moved to Mechanicsburg as a child, and returned to Johnstown at age 18, taking jobs in local retail stores. His last name was originally spelled McCrorey but he got rid of the ‘E’ when he founded his own store chain. It is said that he did it when he realized that his signs would be cheaper if his name had one less letter. The original spelling can be seen on the entrance to the family mausoleum in Grandview Cemetery.
He opened his first McCrory store in Indiana County in 1882. He opened the Johnstown store shortly after the 1889 flood, placing it on Main Street, where the current Bulldog Boxing Arena is located. By the company’s 100th anniversary it had more than 1,000 stores, having bought out such other retail chains as G.C. Murphy and J.J. Newberry.
In 1897, McCrory joined with one of the salesmen who called on the McCrory stores, Sebastian S. Kresge, to open five-and-ten-cent stores in Memphis and Detroit. Kresge would buy McCrory’s share of the company two years later and begin his own chain of stores under the name S.S. Kresge’s. That chain would eventually become K-Mart.
McCrory would focus on his own chain until his retirement in 1933. By 1990, however, without McCrory’s leadership, the company found itself in financial trouble and filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, allowing the company to restructure. The reorganization was unsuccessful, however, and by 1997 John McCrory’s once-proud chain of 1,000 stores was down to 161 stores. Those remaining stores were sold to a former chairman of McCrory’s, who promised to keep the Johnstown store open.
He kept his word as store after store within the chain closed. By late 2001, however, it was apparent that the chain was about to fail completely. The Johnstown store was one of the last to go. In September 2001 the store was down to only six employees, and it finally closed its doors. Less than six months later the entire company went out of business.
John McCrory did not live to see his namesake company fail, however. He died in 1943 at age 83 and is buried in the family mausoleum in Grandview Cemetery’s Highland 5 section.
Tomorrow: Johnstown Flood National Memorial
Black and White photo credits: Downtown store – Historic Pittsburgh; McCrory portrait – Find-a-Grave
The Sandyvale Cemetery dates back to the 1800s, and over the years it contained as many as 6,000 graves. Buried here were people who had fought in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, abolitionists, industrialists, and some of the city’s earliest settlers. However, the cemetery’s location along the river left it vulnerable to flooding, and Johnstown’s three major floods took their toll. Headstones were swept away and with all burial records prior to 1936 also lost, many of the graves could not be identified as to exact location or occupant. The condition of the cemetery led many families to disinter their loved ones and move them to other cemeteries on higher ground.
Approximately 20 years ago a group of concerned citizens formed the Sandyvale Memorial Association Inc., dedicated to preserving the cemetery and making improvements to the appearance of the grounds while maintaining the history of the old burial ground. This once forgotten property has been revitalized and is now a flourishing 11-acre expanse of green space with flower beds, a greenhouse, hiking trail, dog park, and memorials to those who remain buried there. Within the past few days an additional seven acres was donated by the Glosser family, which will being the park up to 18 acres when the new area is developed.
The centerpiece of the memorial park is the Veterans’ Cannon Circle near the garden’s center. The citizen’s group left the circle where it had stood for more than 100 years, serving as a memorial to the many lives lost in our nation’s conflicts. Nearby, the Veterans’ Memorial Event Lawn contains eight symbolic trees, each one serving as a living memorial to those who served in each of eight wars, beginning with the French and Indian War and Revolutionary War. Each tree was selected because the type of tree has some connection to the war that it represents. A small plaque at the base of each tree explains that connection.
The garden’s combination greenhouse/conservatory produces flowers that are planted throughout the park and is the site of lectures and seminars throughout the year in both indoor and outdoor classrooms.
The headstones that had been displaced by the floods but which remained on the property were gathered by the Sandyvale Memorial Association and respectfully placed in a small group along the walking trail, where they are looked over by a nearly 10-foot tall silhouette sculpture of an angel, crafted by Lei Hennessey-Owen.
A familiar sculpture, long used as a watering trough for horses, now sits in the gardens. Those who grew up in Johnstown may remember it from its various homes in the downtown area, most recently along Lincoln Street before moving to its new home in Sandyvale a few years ago. Created by artist Charles Oscar Haag and dedicated to the city in 1914, it is Haag’s only known surviving fountain. It was donated to the city as a memorial to the 1889 flood victims by Jane Maclay Tittle and Ellen Maclay Murphy in honor of their parents, William Irwin Maclay and Sarah Hamilton Stackhouse Maclay. The title of the sculpture is The American Fountain, although it also is often referred to as the “Indian Drinking at a Brook” and the “Man and Beast Fountain.”
The alternate names come from the sculpted bronze images on either side. One depicts a Native American as he kneels along a stream to get a drink. A small watering trough for dogs is built into the base. The other side shows a bison, also drinking from a stream, with a watering trough for horses at the base on that side. (I have to credit my wife, Suzanne, for her much-appreciated diligence in ferreting out the information about this fountain).
The city’s history as a stop on the Underground Railroad is recognized by a small historical marker along the walking trail. It describes the escape of Patrick and Abraham, two brothers whose story is probably the best-known tale of Johnstown’s affiliation with the Underground Railroad. A future post will go into more detail about this exciting story. Five known abolitionists were buried in the old cemetery and are likely still there: William Slick, Benjamin Slick, John Cushon, James Heslop, and Charlotte Heslop.
Tomorrow: George Reed, Civil War hero (you won’t want to miss his interesting story)
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In 1937 a fund drive was initiated to raise $70,000 for a local music pavilion. The drive did not meet its cash goal, but the difference was made up when a local company offered to provide the materials at cost and the city promised to contribute materials and construction equipment. Architect Horace Bailey donated his services as well. In late 1938 the plans for the project were sent to the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a New Deal agency that hired millions of Americans to construct public works projects. Those plans were ultimately approved and groundbreaking took place May 14, 1939.
Over the next few years the WPA would build approximately 27 such pavilions throughout the country. The local music pavilion would be called the Roxbury Bandshell, named for its location in Roxbury Park. It is the only surviving WPA-built music pavilion.
The new structure was to be 55 feet tall and built of native stone. Its arc, with an inside radius of 30 feet, would provide outstanding acoustics, and the stage was 54 feet wide by 74 feet long, large enough for ample performing space.
While the performing area is an open, roofless stage, there are rooms inside, behind the stage, to be used for practices, storage, or dressing rooms. The original structure had 96 lights mounted on the top of the pavilion, with strip lighting installed for footlights. The new pavilion was dedicated with a week-long music festival in June 1939 and for many years the pavilion provided concerts, plays, and other outdoor entertainment.
By 2005 Roxbury Park had become so popular that the city began reviewing options for increased parking. The decision was made to demolish the Bandshell and pave the area. However, a group of local citizens challenged that decision, filing a lawsuit. The city ultimately reconsidered the decision, choosing instead to join forces with the citizens, who had organized themselves into the Roxbury Bandshell Preservation Alliance. A long-term agreement was drafted and restoration work was begun.
Today the partnership between the Alliance and the city promises a healthy future for what has become a major contributor to Johnstown’s cultural landscape.
Five months after the flood waters receded in 1889, a new 20,000 square foot section of Grandview Cemetery was opened. That section would be the final resting place for each of the unidentified victims of the flood, 751 of them in all. Each grave would be marked by an identical blank marble headstone, all placed in even rows. When the 751 victims had been laid to rest, 26 more identical headstones were added to give perfect geometrical symmetry to the plot. Those 26 extra headstones occasionally cause confusion, because most stories about the plot refer to the 777 unidentified dead, not recognizing that 26 are not actually graves. It would become known as the Plot of the Unknowns, or the Unknown Plot, for short.
Three years later, on the anniversary of the deadly catastrophe, a large monument was dedicated with much fanfare. A crowd estimated at 10,000 watched in solemn silence as Governor Robert E. Pattison and Johnstown’s first mayor, Horace Rose, conducted the official ceremonies. Placed in front of the 777 grave markers, the 35-ton monument, made of Vermont granite, remains today, standing vigil. That monument houses no remains, and is known as the Monument of Tranquility. The inscription on the front panel of the monument reads “In Memory of the Unidentified Dead From the Flood, May 31,1889.”
Standing 21 feet tall, the marker is topped by three figures depicting Faith, Hope, and Charity. The figure representing Hope has her right arm raised, pointing upward. Some say it is to signify that the unknown dead have ascended into Heaven.
The Plot of the Unknowns and the Monument of Tranquility are at Stop 4 on the cemetery’s Walking/Driving Tour.
Tomorrow: Bill Hartack
Photo Credit: Monument of Tranquility, Suzanne Gindlesperger (My wife!)
Many of us grew up hearing that the statue known as Morley’s Dog was a sculpture of a real dog owned by a family named Morley that became a hero when he saved several children during the 1889 flood. It’s a great story, and tourists love it, but unfortunately it is just that. A story.
The only factual part of the story is that the statue of the dog was owned by the family of James Morley, an executive with the Cambria Iron Works. Notice that I said the Morley family owned the statue of the dog, not an actual dog. So, technically speaking, the statue was “Morley’s Dog.” However, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of identical statues had been mass produced by a New York City company in the mid to late 1800s as lawn ornaments, and that is exactly what the Morley family used it for.
When the 1889 flood hit it took the statue with it. It was eventually found during a cleanup operation, buried in the rubble at the Stone Bridge. There are no Morley’s listed on the register of the dead, so it must be assumed that the family all survived. Apparently they never got their “dog” back, though, because it was eventually put on display as a symbol of the city’s toughness and resiliency. For years it sat in the small parklet on the northwest corner of Main and Market Streets. It may actually be the second-most photographed structure in the city, with the Inclined Plane likely being Number One. It was so popular that it even got a mention in the hit cult movie “Slap Shot,” starring Paul Newman and extensively filmed in Johnstown.
As so often happens, though, Morley occasionally fell victim to vandals, the most blatant coming when a group of baseball players from Buffalo, in town for the AAABA baseball tournament, caused extensive damage several years ago. Once repaired, Morley’s Dog, or just plain Morley as many refer to him affectionately, once again assumed his quiet vigil over the park. But Morley was constructed of zinc-alloy, a material not compatible with severe weather. Eventually, the statue began to show signs of wear and tear from the weather and the manhandling from children and over-exuberant adults who felt the best photograph was the one where they sat on the dog’s back.
A series of repairs only delayed the inevitable. One of the repairs had filled the interior of the statue with concrete in a well meaning, but damaging gesture. The metal and the concrete did not expand and contract at the same rate with temperature changes, causing more problems than it fixed. Finally, in 2004, Morley was taken out of service, replaced by a replica. He was taken to Concurrent Technologies, where he was subjected to metallurgical analysis and underwent a repair and rebuild by several employees who volunteered their time. Cost estimates for the repair came to $14,000 for the statue, which cost $200 when it was purchased.
But if you ask any Johnstowner, it was worth every penny. Morley once again stands tall, but now he stays in his new home in the lobby of the Heritage Discovery Center. He is such a symbol of Johnstown that replicas can now be seen all around town in different costumes and disguises, based on how each owner wishes to show him off. And that 2004 replica? He still stands guard in the park, and he’s becoming as much a symbol as the original.
Tomorrow: Harry Cramer (wait till you hear his sad claim to fame)
Cambria Iron Works was established in 1852, and parts of the facility remain in operation today. Some of the greatest innovators of the early iron and steel industry worked here, and there were several major technological advances developed at the site. According to the National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, those advances included “…experimentation with the Kelly converter from 1857-1862; first use of the three high roll mill to produce iron railroad rails in 1857; development of the first blooming mill for breaking down ingots, the first hydraulic manipulator for turning over and moving ingots, and the first mechanical driving of rollers in the mill tables; early conversion to the Bessemer steel process in 1871; and first U. S. commercial production of steel railroad rails in 1867.”
The building in the modern photo was constructed in two phases: the first in 1881 and the second in 1885. Many among the 7,000 employees lived in company-owned houses, bought their groceries at the company store, and received medical treatment at the company hospital. The hospital, shown in the accompanying postcard photo, was the first hospital in the United States established by an iron-making company for its employees.
The company also owned several thousand acres of ore and coal bearing property, 35 miles of railroad tracks, and 1500 railroad cars. To top it off, the company owned its own theater, a club for the executives, shoe stores, and furniture stores.
The company’s initial purpose was to make steel rails for the country’s growing railroad system, and within 10 years of opening the Cambria Iron Works had become one of the largest producers of steel rails in the country. As the country grew, so did Cambria Iron Works, until it became the largest such facility in the United States. In 1878 the company opened the Gautier Works, to manufacture rods, agricultural equipment, and drawn wire. That part of the plant would be destroyed in the flood but would eventually rebuild. It remains in operation today.
In 1898 Cambria Iron Works reorganized and took on a new name: the Cambria Steel Company. Almost immediately the Franklin Plant opened, housing large rolling mills, a by-product coke plant, blast furnaces, open hearth furnaces, and a steel car manufacturing facility.
In 1916 the Midvale Steel and Ordnance Company assumed control of the plant, and a year later a Wheel Plant was opened for the manufacture of rolled freight car wheels. Seven years later, Bethlehem Steel bought the entire Johnstown facility and initiated an extensive modernization plan. Bethlehem’s facilities would eventually extend along Johnstown’s three rivers for a total of 12 miles, and employ 18,000 people at its peak.
As we know, Bethlehem Steel eventually went bankrupt and closed all its operations, including the Johnstown Plant. Many of the buildings have been repurposed, and the office in the photo is now a halfway house for prisoners nearing release.
The building shown here survived the 1889 flood, one of the few structures on Washington Street that did. It is the building in the background in the 1889 black and white photo. (Note the coffins on the right side of the photo). It would go on to survive two more devastating floods in 1936 and 1977 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Tomorrow: The Opera House
Photo credits: Black and White flood photo – Library of Congress, Postcard Photo – Johnstown Area Heritage Association
Boyd D. “Buzz” Wagner was born October 31, 1916 in Emeigh and graduated from Nanty Glo High School in 1934. Following graduation he and his family moved to Irene Street in the 8th Ward. A good student, Wagner attended the University of Pittsburgh for three years, after which he enlisted in the Army Air Corps in 1938. Initially part of the 27thP:ursuit Squadron, he eventually transferred to the 17th Squadron, where he was soon promoted to 1st Lieutenant and command of his squadron. In late 1940 his unit was sent to the Philippines.
On December 8, 1941, the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Japanese invaded the Philippines, destroying much of the United States air power there. During the attack, Wagner led a series of counterattacks against the Japanese.
Four days later he left on a solo reconnaissance mission over Aparri, a Japanese landing site. Five Japanese Mitsubishi fighter planes, known as Zeros, took off to intercept him. Wagner, flying a P-40 Warhawk, quickly shot down two of them. As he strafed the airfield, more Zeros joined the pursuit. Wagner shot down two more before his faster plane outdistanced his pursuers, allowing him to return safely to his base at Clark Field, north of Manila.
On December 17, 1941 Wagner, flying with two other planes, attacked 25 enemy planes parked on an airstrip near Vigan. Flying at low altitude, Wagner directed one of the other planes to join him in the attack while the third plane provided cover. The plane flying with Wagner on the attack was shot down by enemy fire, but Wagner continued his attack, destroying 9 parked enemy planes and damaging 7 more. He then shot down another Zero before departing the area. This confirmed kill gave him a total of 5, making him the first Ace of World War II. His actions earned him the Distinguished Service Cross, our nation’s second highest award for valor, just below the Medal of Honor.
Three days before Christmas his plane was struck by enemy fire, damaging the cockpit and causing glass splinters to strike him in the face. He managed to return to base and was evacuated to Australia a few days later. In April, flying out of Port Moresby, New Guinea, he shot down three more Zeros, giving him eight for his career.
Returning to the United States, Wagner was killed later that year when his plane crashed during a training flight in Florida. He is buried in Grandview Cemetery in the Cambria 2 section. His grave is Number 13 on the cemetery’s Walking/Driving Tour.
Wagner High School at Clark Air Base in the Philippines was named in his honor. In addition to his Distinguished Service Cross, he was also awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Purple Heart.
In 2016 a replica of Wagner’s plane was dedicated at the Johnstown airport. It is permanently mounted at the northwest corner of the airport parking area.
And that nickname “Buzz?” Supposedly he got it when someone commented that he was such a good pilot that he could buzz the camouflage off the roof of a hangar. (Tomorrow: Cambria Iron Company)
Black and white photo credit: USAF Museum
When Alma Hall was built by the Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF) in 1884 it was the tallest building in Johnstown, standing at four stories. The Odd Fellows is a fraternal organization and the building remains the headquarters of Alma Lodge 523. Alma Hall is situated on Main Street, across from Central Park.
The building became a place of refuge on the night of May 31, 1889, when flood waters eventually rose to the third floor. Those who had been swept into the vicinity of the building realized that it may be their only chance for survival, and desperately tried to reach the structure. Many clambered over debris that was already 18 feet deep, scrambling in through windows on the upper levels. Others were rescued by men already in the building, holding onto ropes for their own safety. Records show that a local attorney was floating past on a rooftop. When his “ride” slammed into the front of the building, he was tossed through a window, a window that turned out to be in his own office.
As more and more crowded into the building, the Reverend David Beale led the group in prayer. Ultimately, more than 250 squeezed into the upper two floors. Fearing a fire, strict orders were given by those in charge that nobody was permitted to turn on any of the building’s gaslights. Many would later say their biggest fear was not fire, but that the building would be crushed by the debris that constantly bombarded the building, or that they would be swept away by the fast rushing water. Miraculously, the building held, and nobody inside the building was swept away.
Throughout the night, physician William Matthews, suffering himself from cracked ribs sustained in his own harrowing journey to Alma Hall, treated injured victims. To add to the drama, two babies were born during the night.
By morning, one person in the building had died. Those who were physically able crawled out windows and gingerly made their way across the accumulated piles of debris to higher ground. Those who could not, remained in the building until they could be rescued. (Tomorrow – Gerald Horner’s Gravemarker. You won’t want to miss this one. It’s a great story that illustrates a mother’s love.)
If you’ve been to the Flood Museum, or even if you’ve just driven past, you may have noticed a small wood frame structure sitting off to the side of the building, at the corner of Washington and Walnut Streets. That structure is not a storage building. It is a building with great historical significance known as an Oklahoma House. Few remain anywhere, and Johnstown is lucky to have one.
Oklahoma houses, as the name suggests, were originally built for homesteaders in the Oklahoma Territory. They came in two sizes, 16’ x 24’ and 10’ x 20’, and they were an early example of manufactured housing. At a standard height of 1’1/2 stories, it is easy to see how cramped they would have been.
How did an Oklahoma House end up in Johnstown? Well, at one time there were as many as 400 of them here, because they became emergency temporary housing after the 1889 flood. Unfortunately, the houses were not insulated and therefore were not well suited for the winters we have in this area, but they did provide shelter for many families who had lost everything to the flood waters. It was not uncommon for families to stay in the houses for as long as two years or more.
This particular house was not just built for display. It actually stood in what is now the historic Moxham neighborhood for many years. It sat on a lot that was actually the yard of a larger residence that had been acquired by Habitat for Humanity. The tiny structure sat unobtrusively until its porch caught fire. Then, it was discovered to have historical significance, and Habitat for Humanity donated it to the Flood Museum.
Once on museum property, renovations were begun, including a new wood shingled roof, replacement of several missing or rotted clapboards, and complete scraping and painting. Much of the work was done by volunteers.
Today the house stands as mute evidence of the hardships that continued long after the flood waters receded.
Tomorrow: Alma Hall
Mention disasters and Johnstown in the same sentence and the listener will almost invariably think of floods. Unfortunately, the city has experienced more than its share of tragedies, and even more unfortunately, many of them are no longer remembered by most people.
One of those was the Rolling Mill Mine disaster. The Rolling Mill Mine was owned and operated by the Cambria Iron Works and produced coal for the steelmaking industry in Johnstown. Started in 1856, by 1902 it was producing more than 3,000 tons of metallurgical grade bituminous coal every day.
Just before noon on July 10, 1902 a mixture of methane known as firedamp erupted in a violent explosion. Almost instantly seven miners, most of them central European immigrants working in what was known as the Klondike section, were killed. As the survivors rushed to the nearest portal several miles away, they were overtaken by another deadly gaseous mixture known as afterdamp, which asphyxiated 105 more.
Despite the 112 deaths, the mine reopened four days later, as the local immigrant community called for greater safety precautions. It would continue operating for 29 more years when the mine, then known as Bethlehem Mines Corporation’s Mine 71, had been “worked out” and it was determined that the little coal that remained was not feasible to mine.
Portals were all sealed, one of which can still be seen along the James Wolfe Sculpture Trail along the hillside below the Inclined Plane. (If you go to see this portal, DO NOT ENTER. It is unsafe). The disaster remains one of the deadliest in U.S. history. (Photo credit – Pittsburgh Dispatch and the Library of Congress).
The winter of 1935-36 had been a rough one in Johnstown, with heavy snows and low temperatures. Snowpack still lay deep on the mountains surrounding the city. Temperatures rose in mid-March, and the rains came. Just a light drizzle at first, then more heavily, until it seemed as if the rain would never stop. Most of us who live here today will recognize that kind of rain.
The rivers began to rise, reaching flood stage on March 17. But they didn’t stop there and continued to rise at the rate of 18 inches per hour. Citizens scrambled to get their belongings to the higher levels of their homes. Merchants did the same at their places of business. Then, shortly after midnight on March 18, 1936, the waters began to recede, even though the rains continued at a lesser rate.
Records show that the water levels in Cambria City actually had reached more than a foot deeper than they had during the 1889 flood. The difference was that the water did not back up at the Stone Bridge (see yesterday’s post). But the city had not really been spared. The combination of heavy rain and warmer temperatures that melted the snowpack had done their deadly work.
Nearly $41,000,000 in damage had taken place. The death toll reached 25, some from drowning, others from heart attacks. The Red Cross estimated that 9,000 were now homeless. Then, a cruel rumor broke out: the Quemahoning Dam had given way. The understandably jumpy citizens made a panic-stricken rush for higher ground as sirens wailed.
Gradually, an unsteady calm began to sink in, as the rumor was slowly discounted. Over the following days news stories resulted in an outpouring of support from around the world once more. Sightseers were banned from the city, liquor stores were ordered to close, and special passes were required to be out in the streets. The military arrived, along with the State Police, and order was surprisingly well maintained.
In the aftermath, the state legislature implemented a 10% tax on alcohol, with the proceeds to be used to rebuild Johnstown. This held true for a few years, but since the 1940s none of that money has come to the city. Instead it is placed in the state’s general fund, although the tax is still on the books as the Johnstown Flood Tax.
Also eager to help, the Works Progress Administration (WPA) said that all public property damaged or destroyed by the flood would be repaired or replaced at no cost to the city. The Secretary of War, George H. Dern, surveyed the area with General Edward M. Markham, Chief of Army Engineers, after which both assured local residents that flood control measures were going to be expedited.
On August 13, President Franklin D. Roosevelt came to Johnstown. At Roxbury Park, the president made a speech that gave the citizens hope. The federal government was going to do everything necessary to make sure that Johnstown never experienced another flood. He authorized the Army Corps of Engineers to channelize the rivers, at a cost of $8.7 million, to increase the capacity of the rivers to prevent future flooding. The concrete river channels that we see today were the result.
Today a small monument marks the spot where Roosevelt stood to make his speech at Roxbury Park. It is located along the roadway midway between the tennis courts and the Bandshell. The photos show that monument. (Tomorrow: the Rolling Mill Mine Disaster).
The Stone Bridge is a favorite photo spot for locals and visitors alike, especially for the evening light shows. Unfortunately, the bridge has a deadly past, making it much more than just a pretty lighting display, although it certainly is that.
In 1889 the bridge carried the man line of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Even today the bridge serves a similar purpose, with dozens of trains passing across every day. The bridge was destined to play a major role in the 1889 flood. By the time the water reached the bridge the torrent was carrying an estimated 100,000 tons of debris, along with countless citizens floating on whatever they could grab. Some were clinging to rooftops of floating houses, others held on to trees that had been uprooted by the force of the water.
The bridge served as a collection point, with the rubble blocking all the archways and trapping those riding the debris. A witness said there were thousands of screaming victims trapped in the wreckage. While that figure is probably too high, there certainly would have been a significant number, probably in the 500-600 range. Photos of some of that debris can be seen with this article.
What happened next is not known for sure. There are several theories. A wood stove from one of the floating houses may have tipped over, or possibly a railroad lantern. Maybe even a piece of hot metal from the Cambria Iron Works became lodged in the mountain of debris. How it happened isn’t important. What is important is that the pile caught fire.
Panicked crowds along the river bank watched in horror as those trapped began a fight for survival. Some victims broke free and were able to reach safety, others received help from those on the shoreline. Miraculously, most of those who had been caught in the pile managed to get away from the burning debris, but an estimated 75-100 had escaped the raging flood waters only to be burned to death at the Stone Bridge. The fire was still burning the next day. It would take several months to clear away the deadly pile.
A few years ago the Stone Bridge Lighting Project was launched. More than $1,000,000 was raised to install programmable LED lighting, and the attraction has become a nightly drawing card for locals and visitors alike. Gathering along adjacent streets, at the Inclined Plane observation deck, or in nearby Point Park (my favorite vantage point), spectators are treated to a light show for about 30 minutes to kick off the evening’s display. That is followed by a static arrangement of color combinations, usually dedicated to a holiday (red, white, and blue on July 4, for example), or an event (black and gold for the Steelers playoff games), or in support of a cause (such as pink for breast cancer awareness). In Spring, the colors of local high schools are featured for proms and graduations. The lights can even be rented by individuals to celebrate weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, or other special occasions.
If you haven’t seen the lights yet, you may want to consider it some evening when you complain that there is nothing to watch on TV. Those who have been here will advise you to bring a camera. But while you are there enjoying the display, remember that you are looking at a place that played an important part in our city’s history. Please take a minute to remember those who perished at that very location. (Coming tomorrow – the President Roosevelt monument)
Black and white photos credit – National Archives, Light show photo credit – JAHA
Today’s Johnstown feature is not about a special place to visit, or anything historical. It isn’t even about a famous person from the area. Today I’ll be posting about a horse. A horse named Johnstown, to be more specific. And not just an ordinary horse. Johnstown (the horse, not the city) was one of the best racehorses of all time.
Foaled in 1936 at the famous Claiborne Farm in Kentucky, the bay horse was purchased by William Woodward, Sr. for Belair Stables and was trained by the legendary trainer Sunny Jim Fitzsimmons. Johnstown began his racing career as a 2-year-old and won seven of his first 12 races. This record made him a favorite for the 1939 Triple Crown.
At the first race of the Big 3 of racing, the Kentucky Derby, Johnstown was an overwhelming favorite at 3-5 odds. He got off to a slow start but gained the lead at the 1-mile mark and never looked back. Under jockey Jimmy Stout, Johnstown breezed to an 8-length win over Challedon to tie the 25-year old record set by Old Rosebud in 1914 for largest margin of victory. The record has been tied three more times but never broken, and Johnstown’s name remains on the record books at Churchill Downs.
A muddy track greeted Johnstown at the start of the second leg of the 1939 Triple Crown, the Preakness. The track proved to be too much for the favorite, and Johnstown lost his chance to become the Triple Crown winner by finishing fifth. The winner was Challedon, the horse Johnstown had defeated so easily a few weeks earlier. The stage was set for a head-to-head confrontation at the Belmont Stakes, but Challedon was not nominated for entry and racing fans were deprived of the opportunity to see the matchup. Again, Johnstown won easily, taking two of the three races that comprised the Triple Crown.
Having won 14 of his 21 races, Johnstown retired to the Claiborne Farm, where he sired 145 winning foals, including the great Nashua. Johnstown died in 1950 and was buried at Claiborne Farm. He was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1992. In 2005 a panel of experts named Johnstown as Number 73 among the 100 top race horses of the Twentieth Century.
The photo shows him at the winner’s circle at the 1939 Kentucky Derby. (Next topic: Stackhouse Park – What is the origin of the name?)
Photo credit – Churchill
Craig Downs
Many of us grew up hearing that the statue known as Morley’s Dog was a sculpture of a real dog owned by a family named Morley that became a hero when he saved several children during the 1889 flood. It’s a great story, and tourists love it, but unfortunately it is just that. A story.
The only factual part of the story is that the statue of the dog was owned by the family of James Morley, an executive with the Cambria Iron Works. Notice that I said the Morley family owned the statue of the dog, not an actual dog. So, technically speaking, the statue was “Morley’s Dog.” However, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of identical statues had been mass produced by a New York City company in the mid to late 1800s as lawn ornaments, and that is exactly what the Morley family used it for.
When the 1889 flood hit it took the statue with it. It was eventually found during a cleanup operation, buried in the rubble at the Stone Bridge. There are no Morley’s listed on the register of the dead, so it must be assumed that the family all survived. Apparently they never got their “dog” back, though, because it was eventually put on display as a symbol of the city’s toughness and resiliency. For years it sat in the small parklet on the northwest corner of Main and Market Streets. It may actually be the second-most photographed structure in the city, with the Inclined Plane likely being Number One. It was so popular that it even got a mention in the hit cult movie “Slap Shot,” starring Paul Newman and extensively filmed in Johnstown.
As so often happens, though, Morley occasionally fell victim to vandals, the most blatant coming when a group of baseball players from Buffalo, in town for the AAABA baseball tournament, caused extensive damage several years ago. Once repaired, Morley’s Dog, or just plain Morley as many refer to him affectionately, once again assumed his quiet vigil over the park. But Morley was constructed of zinc-alloy, a material not compatible with severe weather. Eventually, the statue began to show signs of wear and tear from the weather and the manhandling from children and over-exuberant adults who felt the best photograph was the one where they sat on the dog’s back.
A series of repairs only delayed the inevitable. One of the repairs had filled the interior of the statue with concrete in a well meaning, but damaging gesture. The metal and the concrete did not expand and contract at the same rate with temperature changes, causing more problems than it fixed. Finally, in 2004, Morley was taken out of service, replaced by a replica. He was taken to Concurrent Technologies, where he was subjected to metallurgical analysis and underwent a repair and rebuild by several employees who volunteered their time. Cost estimates for the repair came to $14,000 for the statue, which cost $200 when it was purchased.
But if you ask any Johnstowner, it was worth every penny. Morley once again stands tall, but now he stays in his new home in the lobby of the Heritage Discovery Center. He is such a symbol of Johnstown that replicas can now be seen all around town in different costumes and disguises, based on how each owner wishes to show him off. And that 2004 replica? He still stands guard in the park, and he’s becoming as much a symbol as the original.
It is often said that nothing is stronger than the love a mother has for a child. Today we are talking about a young man who gave his life during World War I, and the unusual gravestone his mother placed in Grandview Cemetery. Gerald Horner was born December 27, 1895 to Nathaniel and Mary Horner. The family resided in Dale, and when the United States entered World War I Gerald joined Company I of the National Guard’s 111th Infantry, part of the 7th Division. In preparation for the war, the 7th Division was redesignated the 28th Division, the famed Keystone Division, under the command of Major General Charles H. Muir.
On May 5, 1918 young Horner found himself on his way to Europe, and in early July the Keystone Division fought for the first time. That battle would become known as the Battle of Fismes and Fismette. The Keystone Division by then was part of the American Third Corps under Major General Robert Bullard. However, there was still no independent American army in France, so they fought under the general command of Major General Jean Degoutte’s French Sixth Army.
On August 4, after weeks of intense fighting, the Pennsylvanians captured the town of Fismes, a small town on the Vesle River. Not content with holding Fismes, Degoutte ordered the Keystone Division to cross the river, capture the village of Fismette, and hold it as a bridgehead. Because of enemy positions in the surrounding hills the American generals protested that the village could not be held and that it was a suicide mission, but they were forced to obey their orders.
On the night of August 6-7, the 112th Infantry, also part of the Keystone Division, attacked but were forced back. They tried again the next morning and this time held on for more than 24 hours in vicious hand-to-hand fighting. On the night of August 9 Gerald Horner and the rest of the 111th Infantry made their way across the bridge with minimal resistance. That all changed as they entered Fismette. Fighting intensified and progress was slowly made from house to house. By dawn they had reached the far end of Fismette, where they were met by heavy German machine gun fire. The fighting continued with little letup for the next three days. Then, a captured German prisoner told the Americans that German reinforcements had arrived and an attack was imminent.
The 111th Infantry was exhausted and were in no condition to fight off any attack, but they were determined. Back across the river, officers from the 28th Division had gained the impression that their troops were in command of the battle and should launch their own attack. The order was given, and the officers on the front line protested, calling it murder. But they moved forward into the teeth of the enemy. Soon the German artillery was taking a deadly toll. By daybreak, most of the Americans were dead or wounded. Still, an officer ordered another attack until he was informed that nearly all of his men had been killed.
As the officer pondered his next move, the Germans made their advance, led by flamethrowers. Somehow, the American line held. That night, relief came in the form of reinforcements from the 109th and 112th regiments. By August 22 the village was under a shaky American control, and the order was given for the 28th Division to withdraw. This order was countermanded by Degoutte, and as the Americans vainly tried to hold onto the village, they were overrun, with even heavier casualties. A furious General John “Black Jack” Pershing vowed that never again would American troops fight under anything but American commanders. While there would later be occasions when Americans fought under foreign control, Pershing’s vow generally became the rule.
At some point in the fighting, young Gerald Horner became one of the casualties. He had been struck by a 6-inch shell and had died a short time later, along with several of his comrades. His death was officially listed as August 9, 1918. He was buried in a cemetery in France.
Back home in Johnstown, Gerald’s mother had nothing to remember her son except for a photo he had sent her showing him in his uniform. In 1921, arrangements were made for American remains to be brought home, and Gerald was among them. Mrs. Horner sent a copy of her son’s photo to a sculptor in Italy, who sculpted a life-sized likeness of Gerald which his mother arranged to be placed over Gerald’s grave when he was buried in Grandview Cemetery. The unusual grave marker adorns his grave to this day and can be seen in Grandview’s Highland 1 section. It is Stop Number 14 on the cemetery’s walking/driving tour and is shown in these photos.
Those who knew Gerald Horner proclaimed that the statue is an exact likeness. (A word of caution, for those not familiar with Grandview Cemetery, it is HUGE, one of the largest in Pennsylvania. Although it is referred to as a Walking/Driving Tour, only a few hardy souls actually walk it. Most prefer to drive it. There are 23 stops scattered throughout the cemetery’s 235 acres). (Tomorrow: the G.A.R. Building)
The Stone Bridge is a favorite photo spot for locals and visitors alike, especially for the evening light shows. Unfortunately, the bridge has a deadly past, making it much more than just a pretty lighting display, although it certainly is that.
In 1889 the bridge carried the man line of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Even today the bridge serves a similar purpose, with dozens of trains passing across every day. The bridge was destined to play a major role in the 1889 flood. By the time the water reached the bridge the torrent was carrying an estimated 100,000 tons of debris, along with countless citizens floating on whatever they could grab. Some were clinging to rooftops of floating houses, others held on to trees that had been uprooted by the force of the water.
The bridge served as a collection point, with the rubble blocking all the archways and trapping those riding the debris. A witness said there were thousands of screaming victims trapped in the wreckage. While that figure is probably too high, there certainly would have been a significant number, probably in the 500-600 range. Photos of some of that debris can be seen with this article.
What happened next is not known for sure. There are several theories. A wood stove from one of the floating houses may have tipped over, or possibly a railroad lantern. Maybe even a piece of hot metal from the Cambria Iron Works became lodged in the mountain of debris. How it happened isn’t important. What is important is that the pile caught fire.
Panicked crowds along the river bank watched in horror as those trapped began a fight for survival. Some victims broke free and were able to reach safety, others received help from those on the shoreline. Miraculously, most of those who had been caught in the pile managed to get away from the burning debris, but an estimated 75-100 had escaped the raging flood waters only to be burned to death at the Stone Bridge. The fire was still burning the next day. It would take several months to clear away the deadly pile.
A few years ago the Stone Bridge Lighting Project was launched. More than $1,000,000 was raised to install programmable LED lighting, and the attraction has become a nightly drawing card for locals and visitors alike. Gathering along adjacent streets, at the Inclined Plane observation deck, or in nearby Point Park (my favorite vantage point), spectators are treated to a light show for about 30 minutes to kick off the evening’s display. That is followed by a static arrangement of color combinations, usually dedicated to a holiday (red, white, and blue on July 4, for example), or an event (black and gold for the Steelers playoff games), or in support of a cause (such as pink for breast cancer awareness). In Spring, the colors of local high schools are featured for proms and graduations. The lights can even be rented by individuals to celebrate weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, or other special occasions.
If you haven’t seen the lights yet, you may want to consider it some evening when you complain that there is nothing to watch on TV. Those who have been here will advise you to bring a camera. But while you are there enjoying the display, remember that you are looking at a place that played an important part in our city’s history. Please take a minute to remember those who perished at that very location. (Coming tomorrow – the President Roosevelt monument)
Black and white photos credit – National Archives
Cambria Iron Works was established in 1852, and parts of the facility remain in operation today. Some of the greatest innovators of the early iron and steel industry worked here, and there were several major technological advances developed at the site. According to the National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, those advances included “…experimentation with the Kelly converter from 1857-1862; first use of the three high roll mill to produce iron railroad rails in 1857; development of the first blooming mill for breaking down ingots, the first hydraulic manipulator for turning over and moving ingots, and the first mechanical driving of rollers in the mill tables; early conversion to the Bessemer steel process in 1871; and first U. S. commercial production of steel railroad rails in 1867.”
The building in the modern photo was constructed in two phases: the first in 1881 and the second in 1885. Many among the 7,000 employees lived in company-owned houses, bought their groceries at the company store, and received medical treatment at the company hospital. The hospital, shown in the accompanying postcard photo, was the first hospital in the United States established by an iron-making company for its employees.
The company also owned several thousand acres of ore and coal bearing property, 35 miles of railroad tracks, and 1500 railroad cars. To top it off, the company owned its own theater, a club for the executives, shoe stores, and furniture stores.
The company’s initial purpose was to make steel rails for the country’s growing railroad system, and within 10 years of opening the Cambria Iron Works had become one of the largest producers of steel rails in the country. As the country grew, so did Cambria Iron Works, until it became the largest such facility in the United States. In 1878 the company opened the Gautier Works, to manufacture rods, agricultural equipment, and drawn wire. That part of the plant would be destroyed in the flood but would eventually rebuild. It remains in operation today.
In 1898 Cambria Iron Works reorganized and took on a new name: the Cambria Steel Company. Almost immediately the Franklin Plant opened, housing large rolling mills, a by-product coke plant, blast furnaces, open hearth furnaces, and a steel car manufacturing facility.
In 1916 the Midvale Steel and Ordnance Company assumed control of the plant, and a year later a Wheel Plant was opened for the manufacture of rolled freight car wheels. Seven years later, Bethlehem Steel bought the entire Johnstown facility and initiated an extensive modernization plan. Bethlehem’s facilities would eventually extend along Johnstown’s three rivers for a total of 12 miles, and employ 18,000 people at its peak.
As we know, Bethlehem Steel eventually went bankrupt and closed all its operations, including the Johnstown Plant. Many of the buildings have been repurposed, and the office in the photo is now a halfway house for prisoners nearing release.
The building shown here survived the 1889 flood, one of the few structures on Washington Street that did. It is the building in the background in the 1889 black and white photo. It would go on to survive two more devastating floods in 1936 and 1977 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Tomorrow: Johnstown’s historic districts.
Photo credits: Black and White flood photo – Library of Congress, Postcard Photo – Johnstown Area Heritage Association
When Alma Hall was built by the Independent Order of Odd Fellows (IOOF) in 1884 it was the tallest building in Johnstown, standing at four stories. The Odd Fellows is a fraternal organization and the building remains the headquarters of Alma Lodge 523. Alma Hall is situated on Main Street, across from Central Park.
The building became a place of refuge on the night of May 31, 1889, when flood waters eventually rose to the third floor. Those who had been swept into the vicinity of the building realized that it may be their only chance for survival, and desperately tried to reach the structure. Many clambered over debris that was already 18 feet deep, scrambling in through windows on the upper levels. Others were rescued by men already in the building, holding onto ropes for their own safety. Records show that a local attorney was floating past on a rooftop. When his “ride” slammed into the front of the building, he was tossed through a window, a window that turned out to be in his own office.
As more and more crowded into the building, the Reverend David Beale led the group in prayer. Ultimately, more than 250 squeezed into the upper two floors. Fearing a fire, strict orders were given by those in charge that nobody was permitted to turn on any of the building’s gaslights. Many would later say their biggest fear was not fire, but that the building would be crushed by the debris that constantly bombarded the building, or that they would be swept away by the fast rushing water. Miraculously, the building held, and nobody inside the building was swept away.
Throughout the night, physician William Matthews, suffering himself from cracked ribs sustained in his own harrowing journey to Alma Hall, treated injured victims. To add to the drama, two babies were born during the night.
By morning, one person in the building had died. Those who were physically able crawled out windows and gingerly made their way across the accumulated piles of debris to higher ground. Those who could not, remained in the building until they could be rescued.
Tomorrow – Gerald Horner’s Gravemarker. You won’t want to miss this one. It’s a great story that illustrates a mother’s love.
Mention disasters and Johnstown in the same sentence and the listener will almost invariably think of floods. Unfortunately, the city has experienced more than its share of tragedies, and even more unfortunately, many of them are no longer remembered by most people.
One of those was the Rolling Mill Mine disaster. The Rolling Mill Mine was owned and operated by the Cambria Iron Works and produced coal for the steelmaking industry in Johnstown. Started in 1856, by 1902 it was producing more than 3,000 tons of metallurgical grade bituminous coal every day.
Just before noon on July 10, 1902 a mixture of methane known as firedamp erupted in a violent explosion. Almost instantly seven miners, most of them central European immigrants working in what was known as the Klondike section, were killed. As the survivors rushed to the nearest portal several miles away, they were overtaken by another deadly gaseous mixture known as afterdamp, which asphyxiated 105 more.
Despite the 112 deaths, the mine reopened four days later, as the local immigrant community called for greater safety precautions. It would continue operating for 29 more years when the mine, then known as Bethlehem Mines Corporation’s Mine 71, had been “worked out” and it was determined that the little coal that remained was not feasible to mine.
Portals were all sealed, one of which can still be seen along the James Wolfe Sculpture Trail along the hillside below the Inclined Plane. (If you go to see this portal, DO NOT ENTER. It is unsafe). The disaster remains one of the deadliest in U.S. history. (Photo credit – Pittsburgh Dispatch and the Library of Congress).
Tomorrow’s topic: The Oklahoma House
oday’s Johnstown feature is not about a special place to visit, or anything historical. It isn’t even about a famous person from the area. Today I’ll be posting about a horse. A horse named Johnstown, to be more specific. And not just an ordinary horse. Johnstown (the horse, not the city) was one of the best racehorses of all time.
Foaled in 1936 at the famous Claiborne Farm in Kentucky, the bay horse was purchased by William Woodward, Sr. for Belair Stables and was trained by the legendary trainer Sunny Jim Fitzsimmons. Johnstown began his racing career as a 2-year-old and won seven of his first 12 races. This record made him a favorite for the 1939 Triple Crown.
At the first race of the Big 3 of racing, the Kentucky Derby, Johnstown was an overwhelming favorite at 3-5 odds. He got off to a slow start but gained the lead at the 1-mile mark and never looked back. Under jockey Jimmy Stout, Johnstown breezed to an 8-length win over Challedon to tie the 25-year old record set by Old Rosebud in 1914 for largest margin of victory. The record has been tied three more times but never broken, and Johnstown’s name remains on the record books at Churchill Downs.
A muddy track greeted Johnstown at the start of the second leg of the 1939 Triple Crown, the Preakness. The track proved to be too much for the favorite, and Johnstown lost his chance to become the Triple Crown winner by finishing fifth. The winner was Challedon, the horse Johnstown had defeated so easily a few weeks earlier. The stage was set for a head-to-head confrontation at the Belmont Stakes, but Challedon was not nominated for entry and racing fans were deprived of the opportunity to see the matchup. Again, Johnstown won easily, taking two of the three races that comprised the Triple Crown.
Having won 14 of his 21 races, Johnstown retired to the Claiborne Farm, where he sired 145 winning foals, including the great Nashua. Johnstown died in 1950 and was buried at Claiborne Farm. He was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1992. In 2005 a panel of experts named Johnstown as Number 73 among the 100 top race horses of the Twentieth Century.
The photo shows him at the winner’s circle at the 1939 Kentucky Derby. (Next topic: Stackhouse Park – What is the origin of the name?)
When city founder Joseph Johns laid out the original plan for Johnstown he included this public square. It was not used as a park then, but held a large market. Over the next 50 years it also included a firehouse, jail, and even a butcher shop. The square was also used to hold events that required large spaces, including travelling circuses. At the time, Johnstown had two baseball teams: the Iron Club and the Kickenpawlings. The Iron Club probably was sponsored by the Cambria Iron Works, while the latter team was named for Chief Kehkehnopalin, either from the Delaware or Shawnee tribe, whose village was nearby. Obviously, as was often the custom in those times, the chief’s name was spelled the way it sounded to those who named the team. Both teams used the square for their practices.
When the Civil War broke out, Johnstown was one of the first cities to respond with troops when Governor Andrew Curtin sent out a call. Those troops, as well as later regiments, used the square to learn marching and drills.
The square didn’t become an actual park until the early 1870s, when all the structures were removed and trees were planted. Paths were laid out and the area became a popular place for locals to socialize. The trees that were planted to produce shade never had a chance to reach maturity, however, when they were all ripped out by the force of the flood waters in May, 1889. Debris reached depths of 15 to 20 feet, and when the wreckage was cleared the space once again housed the military when troops from Pittsburgh set up tents and assisted with security during the flood recovery efforts.
The soldiers eventually were no longer needed for keeping the peace, and they struck their tents and returned to Pittsburgh. For the next year, temporary stores and supply houses stretched around the square’s perimeter. When some semblance of normalcy returned to the city, it was decided to return the square to its use as a park, and new trees were planted and an ornate fountain was installed. The park reopened in 1892.
Today the park bustles with activity, with concerts, farmers’ markets, displays, and gatherings taking place year-round. The original fountain has been replaced by the Pasquerilla Fountain, donated by the Pasquerilla family. It is said to very closely resemble the original fountain. During the Christmas season Central Park becomes a winter wonderland, with thousands of lights, a Christmas village, sleigh rides, and the centerpiece: the computerized musical Christmas tree, with 70,000 lights that change colors and designs in time with Christmas songs in a dazzling display that attracts visitors from as far away as Pittsburgh.
Perhaps more than anything, Central Park provides a tangible connection to founder Joseph Johns, while at the same time symbolizing the resurgence of the downtown area.
Tomorrow: Unknown Plot and the Monument of Tranquility
Photo Credit: Animated Christmas Tree – Tribune-Democrat
1910 Image – Tripadvisor
If you’ve crossed the Stonycreek River by way of Napoleon Street on your way to the War Memorial you may have noticed a small sign on the Kernville side of the bridge stating that you were crossing the Edward A. Silk Memorial Bridge. Who was Edward A. Silk?
Edward A. Silk was born June 8, 1916 in Johnstown to Michael and Mary Silk. He married his wife Dorothy before enlisting in the Army on April 16, 1941. Together they would have two children. He was serving as a 1st lieutenant in Company E of the 398th Infantry, 100th Infantry Division on November 23, 1944. On that day, near St. Pravel, France, he was in command of the weapons platoon.
Prior to the assault on St. Pravel, Company E was ordered to seize the high ground overlooking the town of Moyenmoutier. By noon, Silk and his men had reached a small woodlot, when scouts spotted a German sentry standing guard at a farmhouse. At about the same time, intense machine gun and small weapons fire erupted from the farmhouse, pinning down several of the scouts. After a 15-minute firefight failed to silence the enemy guns, Silk launched a one-man attack, racing 100 yards across an open field to the shelter of a low stone wall directly in front of the farmhouse. From that position he fired into the door and windows with his carbine, vaulted the wall and dashed another 50 yards through a hail of bullets to the side of the house. Once there, he hurled a grenade through a window, silencing a machine gun and killing 2 gunners.
When he attempted to change his position he was met with heavy machine gun fire from a nearby woodshed. Disregarding his own safety, he dashed toward the shed while bullets struck all around him. At the woodshed, he threw his remaining grenades into the shed, killing the gunners. With no grenades left, he ran back to the farmhouse and tossed rocks through a window, ordering those inside to surrender. Twelve confused Germans immediately ceased their fire and came outside, only to see that they had surrendered to a solitary American soldier.
With the farmhouse now neutralized, Silk and his men resumed their advance and accomplished their mission.
A year later, on November 1, 1945, Silk received the Medal of Honor from President Harry S. Truman. That presentation is shown in the accompanying photo. His accompanying citation reads:
1st Lt. Edward A. Silk commanded the weapons platoon of Company E, 398th Infantry, on 23 November 1944, when the end battalion was assigned the mission of seizing high ground overlooking Moyenmoutier France, prior to an attack on the city itself. His company jumped off in the lead at dawn and by noon had reached the edge of a woods in the vicinity of St. Pravel where scouts saw an enemy sentry standing guard before a farmhouse in a valley below. One squad, engaged in reconnoitering the area, was immediately pinned down by intense machinegun and automatic-weapons fire from within the house. Skillfully deploying his light machinegun section, 1st Lt. Silk answered enemy fire, but when 15 minutes had elapsed with no slackening of resistance, he decided to eliminate the strong point by a l-man attack. Running 100 yards across an open field to the shelter of a low stone wall directly in front of the farmhouse, he fired into the door and windows with his carbine; then, in full view of the enemy, vaulted the wall and dashed 50 yards through a hail of bullets to the left side of the house, where he hurled a grenade through a window, silencing a machinegun and killing 2 gunners. In attempting to move to the right side of the house he drew fire from a second machinegun emplaced in the woodshed. With magnificent courage he rushed this position in the face of direct fire and succeeded in neutralizing the weapon and killing the 2 gunners by throwing grenades into the structure. His supply of grenades was by now exhausted, but undaunted, he dashed back to the side of the farmhouse and began to throw rocks through a window, demanding the surrender of the remaining enemy. Twelve Germans, overcome by his relentless assault and confused by his unorthodox methods, gave up to the lone American. By his gallant willingness to assume the full burden of the attack and the intrepidity with which he carried out his extremely hazardous mission, 1st Lt. Silk enabled his battalion to continue its advance and seize its objective.
In addition to his Medal of Honor he was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Star with Oak Leaf Cluster. Silk rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel before leaving the service. Edward Silk died on November 18, 1955 at the age of 39 from complications from a peptic ulcer and is buried in Section 30 of Arlington National Cemetery.
Five months after the flood waters receded in 1889, a new 20,000 square foot section of Grandview Cemetery was opened. That section would be the final resting place for each of the unidentified victims of the flood, 751 of them in all. Each grave would be marked by an identical blank marble headstone, all placed in even rows. When the 751 victims had been laid to rest, 26 more identical headstones were added to give perfect geometrical symmetry to the plot. Those 26 extra headstones occasionally cause confusion, because most stories about the plot refer to the 777 unidentified dead, not recognizing that 26 are not actually graves. It would become known as the Plot of the Unknowns, or the Unknown Plot, for short.
Three years later, on the anniversary of the deadly catastrophe, a large monument was dedicated with much fanfare. A crowd estimated at 10,000 watched in solemn silence as Governor Robert E. Pattison and Johnstown’s first mayor, Horace Rose, conducted the official ceremonies. Placed in front of the 777 grave markers, the 35-ton monument, made of Vermont granite, remains today, standing vigil. That monument houses no remains, and is known as the Monument of Tranquility. The inscription on the front panel of the monument reads “In Memory of the Unidentified Dead From the Flood, May 31,1889.”
Standing 21 feet tall, the marker is topped by three figures depicting Faith, Hope, and Charity. The figure representing Hope has her right arm raised, pointing upward. Some say it is to signify that the unknown dead have ascended into Heaven.
The Plot of the Unknowns and the Monument of Tranquility are at Stop 4 on the cemetery’s Walking/Driving Tour.
Tomorrow: Bill Hartack
Photo Credit: Monument of Tranquility, Suzanne Gindlesperger (My wife!)
In 1924 the World War Adjusted Compensation Act awarded bonuses to World War I veterans, to be payable in 1945. President Calvin Coolidge vetoed the Act on the grounds that patriotism should not have to be bought, only to see Congress override his veto. Veterans nationwide applauded the Act and were willing to wait the 20 years to get their money, which was to have interest compounded each year.
However, when the Great Depression hit, many veterans found themselves out of work and unable to support their families. They organized into a group officially called the Bonus Expeditionary Force, referred to in the media as the Bonus Army. The veterans were referred to as Bonus Marchers. In the Spring of 1932 some 20,000 veterans gathered in Washington to demand early payment of their bonus, setting up a campsite across the nearby Anacostia River and naming it Hooverville after the unpopular President Herbert Hoover. In response, on June 15, 1932 the House of Representatives passed a bill to move the payment date up. Two days later, however, the Senate voted it down and the 1945 payment date was maintained.
Many angry Bonus Marchers refused to leave town after the defeat of the bill, prompting Attorney General William Mitchell to order the police to evict them from their camp. When the veterans ignored the order, a scuffle broke out that quickly escalated when the police began shooting. Two of the veterans were killed. The fatal incident was the final straw for American voters, who would vote Hoover out of office in the next election.
Later that day, General Douglas MacArthur, under orders from President Hoover and assisted by future president Major Dwight Eisenhower, led infantry and cavalry regiments into the camp. These troops were supported by six tanks commanded by Major George S. Patton. Using fixed bayonets and tear gas, MacArthur’s men entered the camp, driving out the veterans and their families, and burning their shelters and belongings. When the veterans fled across the river, Hoover ordered the assault stopped. MacArthur chose to ignore the president, however, and ordered a new attack, saying later that the Bonus Marchers were Communists who were planning to overthrow the U.S. government. Fifty-five veterans were injured and 135 arrested.
The rag-tag Bonus Marchers reluctantly left, but weren’t sure where they were going. Some remembered an invitation they had received earlier from Johnstown’s Mayor Eddie McCloskey, a former prize fighter who said they could come to Johnstown if they weren’t welcome in Washington. Many decided to take him up on the offer. When they arrived they set up camp at Ideal Park, on Glessner Road, just off the Somerset Pike. Ideal Park eventually came to be known as Fun City. Today it is an AYSO soccer complex.
But Ideal Park was not set up to handle a large group of people for an extended time, and the camp soon became littered with garbage and conditions quickly deteriorated. Local citizens wanted the camp disbanded, and public outcry soon threatened to get out of hand. When the president of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad offered transportation to the men, McCloskey saw the answer to the problem. Addressing the crowd at Ideal park, McCloskey said “God brought you to Johnstown, I’m sending you home!” When the crowd began to protest, McCloskey, who enjoyed a good scrap as much as anyone, punched one of his tormentors, breaking his jaw. The little Irishman then yelled out to the crowd, “I can lick anybody in this (expletive deleted) outfit!” By the next day, most of the veterans had boarded trains out of town and the camp was disbanded.
A year later, newly elected President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued an executive order waiving age and marital status restrictions that allowed the enrollment of 25,000 veterans into the Civilian Conservation Corps, providing them with jobs. The new Congress passed the Adjusted Compensation Payment Act in 1936, authorizing the immediate payment of $2 billion in World War I bonuses. Veterans across the country received their bonuses, but quickly realized that the government had deducted an average of $15 from each bonus check to pay for the food provided while they were in Washington.
Tomorrow: Joseph J. Moran, another war hero
Photo credits: National Archives
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On an earlier post we talked about the outstanding racehorse, Johnstown. Today we return to horseracing and discuss a native son who was one of the top jockeys of all time: Bill Hartack. How good was he? Well, he was good enough to be featured on the covers of Time Magazine in 1958 and Sports Illustrated in 1956 and 1964. He forever refused to sign his autograph on the Time cover because it referred to him as Willie, a name he hated.
According to his obituary, he was born in Colver on December 9, 1932. His mother died from injuries in an automobile accident in 1940, when Hartack was 8. Always small, he stood 5’-4” tall and weighed 111 pounds at age 17, a size that made him a perfect candidate to become a jockey. He got a job as an exercise and stable boy at Charles Town Race Course in West Virginia in 1949 and began riding at Waterford Park in 1952, winning his first race a year later. By the time he was in his third year of riding he was named the leading jockey in America. He would achieve that honor three more times in his career.
He won his first Kentucky Derby in 1957 on Iron Leige, when jockey Bill Shoemaker, riding Gallant Man, misjudged the finish line in what many consider the biggest mistake in Derby history. A photo of that race accompanies this posting. Hartack would go on to win the Derby four more times: 1960 on Venetian Way, 1962 on Decidedly, Northern Dancer in 1964, and Majestic Prince in 1969. His five wins tie him with the legendary Eddie Arcaro for the most wins in Derby history. Hartack was injured in 1958 and was unable to ride. The horse he normally rode, Tim Tam, won the Kentucky Derby with a substitute rider, costing Hartack his sixth Derby win, a win that would have placed him alone at the top of the winner’s list.
Among other big races, he also won the Preakness three times and the Belmont Stakes once. He was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1959 when he was only 26 years old and still racing.
Hartack was the leading rider in earnings twice (1956 and 1957) and the leading rider in number of wins in a year four times (1955, 1956, 1957, and 1960). In 1955 his mounts won 417 races, making him only the second rider in history, after John Adams, to win more than 400 races in a single year. That record has since been beaten. He continued riding until his retirement in 1974, finishing with 4,272 wins in 21,535 races, averaging a win every five races, an unheard of feat in racing. Following his retirement he remained in racing as a steward, and he would return to racing from 1978 to 1980 in Hong Kong.
Considered difficult to get along with, especially by sports writers who insisted on calling him Willie, Hartack was fired by Calumet Farms in 1958 when he vehemently disagreed with management and trainers over race strategy. Hartack preferred to take his mounts right to the lead, while trainers wanted him to hold back and win with a stretch run.
In 1967 he co- authored (with Whitney Tower) a three-part series in Sports Illustrated titled “A Hard Ride All The Way.” That series gave him a forum, and he used it to discuss his frequent run-ins and disputes with owners, trainers, racing officials and members of the press.
Bill Hartack died from a heart attack on November 26, 2007 in a hunting cabin in Freer, Texas while on a hunting trip with friends. He was 74.
Tomorrow: the Roxbury Park Bandshell
Photo credits: Portrait photo: America’s Best Racing; Time Magazine, Sports Illustrated and the Bill Hartack Foundation for the magazine covers; Donald Greyfield and Find-a-Grave
Daniel Johnson Morrell was born in Maine in 1821, moved to Philadelphia as a child, and came to Johnstown in the 1850s with orders from a group of wealthy backers of the Cambria Iron Company to find out why the company was bleeding money. By the time the Civil War broke out in 1861, he had turned the company around and made it the largest and most successful iron company in the country, despite knowing nothing about the business when he started.
He became the General Superintendent and later the General Manager of the Cambria Iron Company, and under his guidance Cambria Iron Company encouraged innovative thinking and became a pioneer in the Bessemer process of making steel from molten iron. That process is still recognized as one of the most important industrial advances of all time. He did all this while gaining a reputation for looking out for the welfare of those working for him.
A Quaker, Morrell became one of the top ironmasters of his era and had nothing but disdain for men like Andrew Carnegie, saying they were not real ironmen. He believed they had gotten into the business to make a quick dollar, without knowing anything about iron and steel. He and Carnegie would butt heads more than once.
It would be normal to think that running a large steel company would be more than enough to keep a man busy, but Morrell was not your average man. He also served as president of the Savings Bank, the First National Bank, the Water Company, and the Gas Company. For many years he added the presidency of the American Iron and Steel Association to his resume, and he was invited to speak before Congress on more than one occasion.
As would be fitting for a man of his position, he lived in a large house, considered by many to be the finest in Johnstown. Surrounded by lush gardens and shade trees, the house sat on a full square block in the heart of downtown, surrounded by an ornate iron (what else!) fence.
The stocky Morrell was built like a bulldog, standing less than six feet in height but weighing a solid 200 pounds, with massive shoulders. He was just as tenacious, as the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club would soon learn.
When the club was organized, the Cambria Iron Company and Daniel Morrell were deeply committed to the Johnstown area. That commitment extended to making sure no group of wealthy out-of-towners was going to come in and do anything that was detrimental to the people of the area. If the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club was planning to do anything at the South Fork Dam, it would have to be done right. So, in 1880 he sent his top assistant out to observe work being done at the dam. The assistant’s inspection report was not complimentary, and Morrell made it known at the club that he wanted changes made, including a major overhaul and the installation of a discharge system. To ensure that nothing was done illegally or unethically, he applied for membership so he could keep an eye on the work. Surprisingly, he was accepted as a member.
One of the major changes Morrell insisted on was that the dam be built up in the center, which would move the water pressure to the sides rather than at the middle. The lack of a good discharge system was also an issue. But before Morrell’s recommendations could be fully carried out, he passed away. On August 24, 1885 Morrell was laid to rest at Sandyvale Cemetery at the age of 64, with literally thousands of local citizens following the hearse to the cemetery. It arguably remains the largest funeral the city has ever seen. Four years later, the dam failed and produced one of the most tragic disasters in American history, the 1889 Johnstown Flood. Could it have been prevented if Morrell had lived? We’ll never know.
When Grandview Cemetery made public lots available for the first time in 1887, Morrell’s widow purchased this site for family burials, and Daniel’s remains were moved here. The Morrell Circle was the site of the city’s first community-wide Easter Sunrise service on April 17, 1935, an event that attracted a crowd of more than 2,000. Memorial Day services are often held there more recently.
The entire Morrell Circle comprises the Central 5 section of the cemetery and is Stop 5 on the Walking/Driving Tour.
Tomorrow: The Heritage Discovery Center
Portrait photo credit: Bill McKern and Find-A-Grave
I will not be posting for the next few days while Sue and I go to Gettysburg to celebrate our 51st anniversary. Postings will resume on Tuesday, April 20.
As kids many of us played a game called Capture the Flag. To us it was fun, but to a soldier during the Civil War capturing a flag was deadly serious. In even the smallest skirmish during the Civil War, a thick cloud of gunsmoke quickly obliterated the action on the battlefield, making it impossible to see any directives ordered by an officer. The man carrying the regimental flag, the color bearer, became vitally important. Every soldier on both sides knew the importance of always knowing where the flag was. Called “dressing on the flag” every man used the color bearer’s position as his own, moving forward or back and maintaining order, depending on what the color bearer did. Without the color bearer, chaos took over.
Both sides recognized very early in the war that if they could kill the color bearer, or at least capture his flag, the enemy would be at a tremendous disadvantage. Color guards, those immediately around the color bearer, protected the flag with their lives. It took a brave man to carry the colors, and few of them made it through the whole war unscathed. Conversely, those who tried to capture a flag often paid with their lives, but occasionally it was accomplished. One of those who captured an enemy flag was George W. Reed. Although he had proven himself in battle many times, this time he did not depend on his bravery. He did it with his brains.
Reed was born in 1831 somewhere in Cambria County. The records do not indicate specifically where, but it is known that he was living in Johnstown when the Civil War broke out. He enlisted in Company E of the 11th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, a regiment that would become known as the Bloody Eleventh. Their nickname was gained for good reason, as they fought valiantly in such battles as Gettysburg, Antietam, The Wilderness, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and many others.
On August 21, 1864 George Reed was fighting in thick woods at the Battle of Weldon Railroad, also known as Globe Tavern, when he stumbled upon a group of Rebels from the 24th North Carolina Infantry, including their color bearer. Outnumbered, George was immediately taken prisoner. Knowing the odds of surviving a Civil War prison camp were against him, he quickly pointed out that he knew the men were lost and that they were about to walk into the Union lines, where they would probably be killed. He promised to escort them safely through the line if they surrendered to him. The Confederates huddled briefly, then agreed to surrender to the man they thought they had captured just a few moments earlier. Taking their flag, George took his prisoners back to the Union side, where his actions were highly praised. A few weeks later, on September 6, 1864 he was awarded the Medal of Honor.
George Reed died on December 21, 1906 and was buried in Grandview Cemetery. However, the inscription on his headstone deprived him of the honor he so richly deserved. Not only did it not mention his Medal of Honor, it listed him as a Confederate soldier. The error went uncorrected for nearly a century until descendants were able to get it corrected. On November 11, 2006, Veterans Day, a new stone was dedicated in the presence of several spectators and Civil War Reenactors. He remains the only Medal of Honor recipient buried in Grandview. His grave is at Stop 23 on the cemetery’s Walking/Driving Tour.
Next: John Joseph Tominac, WWII hero
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On an earlier post we talked about the outstanding racehorse, Johnstown. Today we return to horseracing and discuss a native son who was one of the top jockeys of all time: Bill Hartack. How good was he? Well, he was good enough to be featured on the covers of Time Magazine in 1958 and Sports Illustrated in 1956 and 1964. He forever refused to sign his autograph on the Time cover because it referred to him as Willie, a name he hated.
According to his obituary, he was born in Colver on December 9, 1932. His mother died from injuries in an automobile accident in 1940, when Hartack was 8. Always small, he stood 5’-4” tall and weighed 111 pounds at age 17, a size that made him a perfect candidate to become a jockey. He got a job as an exercise and stable boy at Charles Town Race Course in West Virginia in 1949 and began riding at Waterford Park in 1952, winning his first race a year later. By the time he was in his third year of riding he was named the leading jockey in America. He would achieve that honor three more times in his career.
He won his first Kentucky Derby in 1957 on Iron Leige, when jockey Bill Shoemaker, riding Gallant Man, misjudged the finish line in what many consider the biggest mistake in Derby history. A photo of that race accompanies this posting. Hartack would go on to win the Derby four more times: 1960 on Venetian Way, 1962 on Decidedly, Northern Dancer in 1964, and Majestic Prince in 1969. His five wins tie him with the legendary Eddie Arcaro for the most wins in Derby history. Hartack was injured in 1958 and was unable to ride. The horse he normally rode, Tim Tam, won the Kentucky Derby with a substitute rider, costing Hartack his sixth Derby win, a win that would have placed him alone at the top of the winner’s list.
Among other big races, he also won the Preakness three times and the Belmont Stakes once. He was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1959 when he was only 26 years old and still racing.
Hartack was the leading rider in earnings twice (1956 and 1957) and the leading rider in number of wins in a year four times (1955, 1956, 1957, and 1960). In 1955 his mounts won 417 races, making him only the second rider in history, after John Adams, to win more than 400 races in a single year. That record has since been beaten. He continued riding until his retirement in 1974, finishing with 4,272 wins in 21,535 races, averaging a win every five races, an unheard of feat in racing. Following his retirement he remained in racing as a steward, and he would return to racing from 1978 to 1980 in Hong Kong.
Considered difficult to get along with, especially by sports writers who insisted on calling him Willie, Hartack was fired by Calumet Farms in 1958 when he vehemently disagreed with management and trainers over race strategy. Hartack preferred to take his mounts right to the lead, while trainers wanted him to hold back and win with a stretch run.
In 1967 he co- authored (with Whitney Tower) a three-part series in Sports Illustrated titled “A Hard Ride All The Way.” That series gave him a forum, and he used it to discuss his frequent run-ins and disputes with owners, trainers, racing officials and members of the press.
Bill Hartack died from a heart attack on November 26, 2007 in a hunting cabin in Freer, Texas while on a hunting trip with friends. He was 74.
Tomorrow: the Roxbury Park Bandshell
Photo credits: Portrait photo: America’s Best Racing; Time Magazine, Sports Illustrated and the Bill Hartack Foundation for the magazine covers; Donald Greyfield and Find-a-Grave
In 1937 a fund drive was initiated to raise $70,00 for a local music pavilion. The drive did not meet its cash goal, but the difference was made up when a local company offered to provide the materials at cost and the city promised to contribute materials and construction equipment. Architect Horace Bailey donated his services as well. In late 1938 the plans for the project were sent to the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a New Deal agency that hired millions of Americans to construct public works projects. Those plans were ultimately approved and groundbreaking took place May 14, 1939.
Over the next few years the WPA would build approximately 27 such pavilions throughout the country. The local music pavilion would be called the Roxbury Bandshell, named for its location in Roxbury Park. It is the only surviving WPA-built music pavilion.
The new structure was to be 55 feet tall and built of native stone. Its arc, with an inside radius of 30 feet, would provide outstanding acoustics, and the stage was 54 feet wide by 74 feet long, large enough for ample performing space.
While the performing area is an open, roofless stage, there are rooms inside, behind the stage, to be used for practices, storage, or dressing rooms. The original structure had 96 lights mounted on the top of the pavilion, with strip lighting installed for footlights. The new pavilion was dedicated with a week-long music festival in June 1939 and for many years the pavilion provided concerts, plays, and other outdoor entertainment.
By 2005 Roxbury Park had become so popular that the city began reviewing options for increased parking. The decision was made to demolish the Bandshell and pave the area. However, a group of local citizens challenged that decision, filing a lawsuit. The city ultimately reconsidered the decision, choosing instead to join forces with the citizens, who had organized themselves into the Roxbury Bandshell Preservation Alliance. A long-term agreement was drafted and restoration work was begun.
Today the partnership between the Alliance and the city promises a healthy future for what has become a major contributor to Johnstown’s cultural landscape.
If you’ve ever wondered what life was like for an immigrant working class family in the 19th century, a visit to the Wagner-Ritter House at 418 Broad Street is a must. For many of you who are reading this, it would tell you exactly how some of your ancestors may have lived when they came to America. The home was donated to Johnstown Area Heritage Association by two Ritter brothers, Robert and Eugene. The house was nearly lost in 1999 when a fire broke out in the house next door. The flames jumped to the Wagner-Ritter House, damaging the roof and parts of the interior. Fortunately, the house was salvageable and is now open as a museum.
George Wagner came to the United States from Bavaria, settling in Johnstown where he got a job stoking a furnace at the Cambria Iron Works. He would work there for 50 years. In Johnstown he met another immigrant, Franziska Hegele. The two would marry and build this house. The family would grow through the births of 13 children, although only seven of the children survived: Joseph, George, Jr., John, Anna, Aloysius, Adolph, and Peter. The family, including all the children, mainly spoke German, and George and Franziska read only a German newspaper named The Frei Presse (the Free Press).
One of those children, Anna, lived to the age of 102. She married a man named Ritter and she and her three children moved back into her childhood home when her husband died. In addition to her three children, all under the age of 5 when she moved back into the house, she cared for her elderly parents, George and Franziska. To make ends meet, Anna took in laundry and worked as a cleaning lady at the nearby Germania Brewery.
From the 1860s through the 1990s the home was occupied by three generations of the Wagner and Ritter families. The family survived the 1889 flood by huddling together on the second floor, hoping the house would not be carried away. Not only did the house stand its ground, but the family was also able to rescue a woman being swept past the house by the raging flood waters by dragging her through a second story window.
Furnished with items that are specific to that era, many of which were owned by the early occupants of the house, the house reveals the story of how the immigrants lived, how they gardened, and what their daily lives were like. Many of the items on display in the house were recovered in an archeological dig conducted in the back yard in the early 1990s. Nearly 70 volunteers participated in the dig, which produced an astounding 28,000 artifacts, including evidence of a soda pop bottling business that had been operated by brother George, Jr. and Peter. Peter would later open the Wagner Bottling Company in the Coopersdale neighborhood, operating it well into the 1930s.
In addition to the house itself, the property contains a small barn, a privy, and a bake oven, all of which have been recreated, to go along with an authentic German garden in the backyard. The garden supplied the family with food as well as some extra income through the sale of some of the produce. An important part of the garden was a hops bush, which enabled the Wagners to brew their own beer.
The décor changes with the seasons, and an especially interesting time of year in the house is the Christmas season, when a Christmas tree and authentic German customs are discussed by tour guides. An exhibit in the adjoining Visitor Center provides good background information on the house and how it fit into the Cambria City neighborhood.
Tomorrow: Joseph Johns
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As long as we are talking each day about something in Johnstown that local citizens should know about, it seems only proper that we discuss our city’s founder, Joseph Johns.
In 1768 a 19-year old Amish man of German and Swiss descent set sail from Europe to the colonies, landing in Philadelphia. The youth, Joseph Schantz, had been a farmer, so it was only natural that he set out on a trek westward in search of land that would make a good farm. (It is interesting to note that, although he used the name Schantz on most documents, which translates to Johns, the family Bible shows it as Schantzin, or Johnson. So . . . we could have been named Johnsontown!).
At about the same time that Schantz was sailing to America, representatives of Pennsylvania’s government were meeting with chiefs of the Iroquois Indians to negotiate what would become known as the Treaty of Fort Stanwix. Among other things, this agreement opened up the Conemaugh Valley and Stonycreek Valley to the white man, and in April 1769, when the treaty became effective, a warrant laid out 249 acres between the Conemaugh and Stonycreek Rivers, on which sat an Indian village known as Conemaugh. White settlers were now free to settle in the surrounding area.
Schantz’s journey brought him to our area, where he immediately realized that this was where he wanted to settle. The hills and rivers reminded him of his youth in Switzerland. He bought a plot of ground in what is now Berlin, in Somerset County, and began farming. By 1793, now married to his wife, Franey, he had saved enough money to purchase a tract of land known as the Campbell Tract, located within the 249-acre Fort Stanwix Treaty land parcel. He built a log cabin at what is now Vine and Levergood Streets and cleared about 30 acres.
Hearing rumors that a new county (Cambria) was to be formed, he then laid out a settlement, calling it Conemaugh Old Town, in honor of the local Indian village. His plan was that it would become the county seat. The courthouse was to be built where Central Park is now located. When the county seat was established at Ebensburg, the disappointed Schantz (Johns) sold his land and moved to a farm near Davidsville.
Joseph Johns would die in 1813 while residing on the Jacob Stover farm. He was buried in a private family cemetery on the farm, which came to be known as the Johns Cemetery. The cemetery is on private property and, out of respect for the owners, I have chosen not to divulge their exact location.
In 1834 the City Council voted to officially change Conemaugh Old Town’s name to Johns Town, eventually shortened to Johnstown, in honor of Joseph Schantz. In 1913 local citizens of German descent erected a statue to Johns in Central Park. The inscription on the front reads: In Commemoration of Joseph Johns (Joseph Schantz), the Founder of the City of Johnstown. Erected by the Citizens of German Descent of Johnstown, June 16, 1913.
The identical inscription appears on the back, but written in German.
Tomorrow: The Bonus Marchers
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Daniel Johnson Morrell was born in Maine in 1821, moved to Philadelphia as a child, and came to Johnstown in the 1850s with orders from a group of wealthy backers of the Cambria Iron Company to find out why the company was bleeding money. By the time the Civil War broke out in 1861, he had turned the company around and made it the largest and most successful iron company in the country, despite knowing nothing about the business when he started.
He became the General Superintendent and later the General Manager of the Cambria Iron Company, and under his guidance Cambria Iron Company encouraged innovative thinking and became a pioneer in the Bessemer process of making steel from molten iron. That process is still recognized as one of the most important industrial advances of all time. He did all this while gaining a reputation for looking out for the welfare of those working for him.
A Quaker, Morrell became one of the top ironmasters of his era and had nothing but disdain for men like Andrew Carnegie, saying they were not real ironmen. He believed they had gotten into the business to make a quick dollar, without knowing anything about iron and steel. He and Carnegie would butt heads more than once.
It would be normal to think that running a large steel company would be more than enough to keep a man busy, but Morrell was not your average man. He also served as president of the Savings Bank, the First National Bank, the Water Company, and the Gas Company. For many years he added the presidency of the American Iron and Steel Association to his resume, and he was invited to speak before Congress on more than one occasion.
As would be fitting for a man of his position, he lived in a large house, considered by many to be the finest in Johnstown. Surrounded by lush gardens and shade trees, the house sat on a full square block in the heart of downtown, surrounded by an ornate iron (what else!) fence.
The stocky Morrell was built like a bulldog, standing less than six feet in height but weighing a solid 200 pounds, with massive shoulders. He was just as tenacious, as the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club would soon learn.
When the club was organized, the Cambria Iron Company and Daniel Morrell were deeply committed to the Johnstown area. That commitment extended to making sure no group of wealthy out-of-towners was going to come in and do anything that was detrimental to the people of the area. If the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club was planning to do anything at the South Fork Dam, it would have to be done right. So, in 1880 he sent his top assistant out to observe work being done at the dam. The assistant’s inspection report was not complimentary, and Morrell made it known at the club that he wanted changes made, including a major overhaul and the installation of a discharge system. To ensure that nothing was done illegally or unethically, he applied for membership so he could keep an eye on the work. Surprisingly, he was accepted as a member.
One of the major changes Morrell insisted on was that the dam be built up in the center, which would move the water pressure to the sides rather than at the middle. The lack of a good discharge system was also an issue. But before Morrell’s recommendations could be fully carried out, he passed away. On August 24, 1885 Morrell was laid to rest at Sandyvale Cemetery at the age of 64, with literally thousands of local citizens following the hearse to the cemetery. It arguably remains the largest funeral the city has ever seen. Four years later, the dam failed and produced one of the most tragic disasters in American history, the 1889 Johnstown Flood. Could it have been prevented if Morrell had lived? We’ll never know.
When Grandview Cemetery made public lots available for the first time in 1887, Morrell’s widow purchased this site for family burials, and Daniel’s remains were moved here. The Morrell Circle was the site of the city’s first community-wide Easter Sunrise service on April 17, 1935, an event that attracted a crowd of more than 2,000. Memorial Day services are often held there more recently.
The entire Morrell Circle comprises the Central 5 section of the cemetery and is Stop 5 on the Walking/Driving Tour.
Tomorrow: The Heritage Discovery Center
Portrait photo credit: Bill McKern and Find-A-Grave
On September 11, 2001, al Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial jetliners in an attack on the United States. One was flown into the Pentagon, two were flown into the World Trade Center’s twin towers in New York City, and a fourth, United Airlines Flight 93, crashed into a field in nearby Shanksville when passengers fought back against their attackers. The attacks took the lives of nearly 3,000 on that fateful morning.
Flight 93 had been in the air for about 45 minutes on its flight from Newark to San Francisco, carrying 33 passengers, a crew of seven, and four terrorists. Then, the terrorists took control of the plane after storming the cockpit. Once in control, they forced the passengers to the back of the plane. The mastermind of the plot, who won’t be named here, said the plan was for the plane to be flown into the U.S. Capitol Building. The passengers had other ideas.
In calls to loved ones the passengers learned of the attacks with the other three planes. That sobering news told the passengers that they were not going to survive their flight, even though they never learned where their plane was headed. Several decided they were going to fight back. Within a short time, probably less than 30 minutes, the defiant passengers formed a plan of their own. On a pre-arranged signal (the phrase “Let’s roll!”), they attacked the surprised terrorists. Those two words quickly became a national rallying cry. A brawl ensued, and the terrorist who manned the controls began rolling the plane from left to right, then pitched the nose up and down, all in an attempt to disorient the attacking passengers. It didn’t work, and the plane went into a roll, turning upside down. At a speed of 563 miles per hour, the plane crashed into a field just outside Shanksville, killing all on board. A ball of fire erupted, fueled by the plane’s 7,000 gallons of jet fuel. But the hijackers’ deadly plan to crash into the very seat of America’s government failed, just 20 minutes from its target.
As soon as it was possible, angry visitors from around the country began arriving, leaving somber mementos at a temporary shrine. Baseballs, firemen’s helmets, signs, handmade monuments, photos, handwritten messages, carved statues … the collection grew daily. Two years later, a national commission was organized to come up with plans for a permanent national memorial, and on September 5, 2005 a winning design was selected. Titled “Crescent of Embrace,” the design became controversial almost immediately because of its crescent shape. Critics demanded that a new design be selected because of the crescent’s symbolism in the terrorists’ Muslim religion, but the decision stood.
On September 10, 2011 a white marble Wall of Names was dedicated, listing the names of every passenger and crew member on the plane. Exactly four years later the Visitors’ Center was opened. A Tower of Voices, not yet completed, was dedicated September 9, 2018. A boulder marks the location of the crash site and is only open to visitation from family members of the passengers.
United Airlines has retired the Flight 93 number to honor the actions of the passengers and crew. Their plane was the only one of the four that didn’t reach its destination.
Tomorrow: John G. McCrory grave
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Those of us who have been around awhile may remember going with our mom to McCrory’s, a downtown ‘five-and-dime’ store. Eating at their lunch counter was always a special treat. Little did we know, or care, that that store and hundreds like it around the country was started by local entrepreneur John G. McCrory.
John Graham McCrory was born in 1860 in East Wheatfield Township, moved to Mechanicsburg as a child, and returned to Johnstown at age 18, taking jobs in local retail stores. His last name was originally spelled McCrorey but he got rid of the ‘E’ when he founded his own store chain. It is said that he did it when he realized that his signs would be cheaper if his name had one less letter. The original spelling can be seen on the entrance to the family mausoleum in Grandview Cemetery.
He opened his first McCrory store in Indiana County in 1882. He opened the Johnstown store shortly after the 1889 flood, placing it on Main Street. By the company’s 100th anniversary it had more than 1,000 stores, having bought out such other retail chains as G.C. Murphy and J.J. Newberry.
In 1897, McCrory joined with one of the salesmen who called on the McCrory stores, Sebastian S. Kresge, to open five-and-ten-cent stores in Memphis and Detroit. Kresge would buy McCrory’s share of the company two years later and begin his own chain of stores under the name S.S. Kresge’s. That chain would eventually become K-Mart.
McCrory would focus on his own chain until his retirement in 1933. By 1990, however, without McCrory’s leadership, the company found itself in financial trouble and filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, allowing the company to restructure. The reorganization was unsuccessful, however, and by 1997 John McCrory’s once-proud chain of 1,000 stores was down to 161 stores. Those remaining stores were sold to a former chairman of McCrory’s, who promised to keep the Johnstown store open.
He kept his word as store after store within the chain closed. By late 2001, however, it was apparent that the chain was about to fail completely. The Johnstown store was one of the last to go. In September 2001 the store was down to only six employees, and it finally closed its doors. Less than six months later the entire company went out of business.
John McCrory did not live to see his namesake company fail, however. He died in 1943 at age 83 and is buried in the family mausoleum in Grandview Cemetery’s Highland 5 section.
Tomorrow: Johnstown Flood National Memorial
In 1945, with WW II in the rear view mirror, the All American Amateur Baseball Association made the decision to hold its first national tournament. The format was simple: 16 teams from the East, Southeast, and Midwest, would play in a double elimination tournament, meaning that a team would not be eliminated until it had lost two games. Johnstown was chosen as the host city, and the Amsterdam (NY) Rugmakers beat Schenectady for the title.
In 1946 the tournament moved to Washington, DC. Apparently, they liked what they saw in Johnstown because they moved back the next year and have played their tournament here every year except two. In 1977 a flood in Johnstown threatened to cause the cancellation of the tournament, but Altoona stepped in and offered to serve as host, and the tournament continued as usual, although on the other side of the mountain. The tournament returned to Johnstown the next year. And in 2020, the Covid-19 virus did what the 1977 flood could not. It caused the first-ever cancellation. If the virus has been controlled or eliminated, it will be back next year.
As most devout followers of the tournament would probably guess, Baltimore has won more tourneys than any other franchise, with 29 championships. They are followed by New Orleans (16 championships), Washington (10), and Detroit (7). Johnstown, represented by Martella’s Pharmacy, had its lone championship in 2018.
Nearly 500 major league players have played in the tournament, including six who are in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Those six are Rod Carew, Ken Griffey, Jr., Al Kaline, Reggie Jackson, Barry Larkin, and Joe Torre. The first to be inducted into the Hall of Fame was Kaline, who played here in 1952 for the Maryland State team that defeated Johnstown Hahn’s Packing 8-5 in front of 13,500 fans in the tourney’s opening game.
Johnstown teams have sent 10 players to the major leagues: Shawn Hillegas, Mike Holtz, Frank Kostro, Ernie Oravetz, Gene Pentz, Michael Ryan, Joe Vitko, Pete Vuckovich, Keith Williams, and Tommy Yewcic. Vuckovich won the Cy Young Award as the National League’s best pitcher in 1982 while pitching for the Milwaukee Brewers.
Although he wasn’t a local player, perhaps the most inspiring player to ever play in the tournament was a young man named Jim Abbott, who played in the 1986 tournament with the team from Detroit and quickly became a fan favorite. He was on the Gold Medal winning team at the 1988 Olympics and was the eighth player selected in the major league draft. Abbott made it to the major leagues immediately without ever playing a game in the minor leagues. He would go on to play for 10 seasons in the majors, winning 87 games as a pitcher while playing for the California Angels, New York Yankees, Chicago White Sox, and Milwaukee Brewers. The highlight of his career was throwing a no-hit game against the Cleveland Indians in 1993 while pitching for the Yankees.
That’s a pretty impressive career, but what made him such an inspiration? His statistics are no better than many players who have 10-year careers. But did those other players play with only one hand? Abbott did.
He was born with no right hand but refused to let it stop him. He played quarterback in addition to baseball while in high school and was good enough even then to be drafted in the 1985 major league draft by the Toronto Blue Jays. Instead, he chose to skip professional baseball in favor of attending the University of Michigan, where he won the James E. Sullivan Award in 1987 as the top amateur athlete in the United States, and the Big Ten Athlete of the Year in 1988. His Number 31 jersey has been retired by the university and the number will never be worn again. He was named to the College Baseball Hall of Fame in 2007. By then he had also been inducted into the AAABA Hall of Fame in 2000.
It would be fair to ask how anyone could play at that level with only one hand. Abbott would tell you that it really wasn’t all that hard once he got used to it. When preparing to pitch the ball, Abbott would place his glove on the end of his right forearm. After throwing the pitch, he immediately slipped his left hand into his glove so he could field any balls that may be hit in his direction. After fielding the batted ball, he secured the glove between his right forearm and torso, slid his hand out of the glove, removed the ball from the glove with his left hand, and threw the ball to the first baseman to get the runner out at first. Depending on where the ball was hit, he often was able to be quick enough to start a double play. If that doesn’t answer your question as to what made him an inspiration, try doing it. If you can, then ask yourself if you could do it fast enough to throw out a major league batter.
The Johnstown Oldtimers Baseball Association has long been the group that organizes, coordinates, and conducts the tournament each year in Johnstown. Their dedication has been the reason the AAABA is played each year in Johnstown.
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Robert Edwin Peary was born to Mary and Charles Peary May 6, 1856 in Cresson. After his father’s death he moved to Maine with his mother. In 1881 he enlisted in the United States Navy Civil Engineering Corps and made his first trip to the Arctic five years later, when he made an unsuccessful attempt to cross Greenland by dogsled. Peary had a burning desire to secure a place in the history of exploration by being the first man to reach the North Pole. This was no easy feat, especially in the early 1900’s, and more than 750 explorers had already died attempting the same feat by the time Peary launched his first expedition.
Peary had made four voyages to the Polar regions between 1886 and 1896. These exploratory journeys earned him great fame and convinced him that he could successfully reach the North Pole. In 1897 he undertook the journey to the North Pole for the first time, returning four years later without having reached his goal. In 1905 he set out once again, setting a new “farthest north” record but still 175 miles short of the Pole when a critical shortage of supplies forced him back.
In February 1909 Peary, his assistant Matthew Henson, and six sled teams launched their sixth and final effort to reach the North Pole. On April 6, they finally reached their goal. Peary was 52 years old at the time and, suffering from frostbite of both feet, Peary was being pulled on a sled. He instructed Henson to take the lead but stop short of the pole so Peary, as expedition leader, would get there first. Whether by accident or by his own plan, Henson did not stop, planting an American flag. Peary was said to be infuriated by Henson’s action. However, as an African-American, Henson was given no credit for his role in the discovery.
Peary’s fortunes would go from bad to worse when he returned home, only to learn that Dr. Frederick Cook, who had been the surgeon on Peary’s expedition in 1891, claimed to have reached the North Pole in 1908, a year earlier than Peary. The controversy continued until 1911, when Peary’s achievement, as expedition leader, was officially recognized by the U.S. Congress. That same year he was granted the rank of rear admiral.
Robert E. Peary died on Feb. 20, 1920, in Washington, D.C., and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery in Section 3 three days later, with President Warren G. Harding presiding over the ceremonies.
In the late 1920’s, a monument to Peary at Arlington National Cemetery was proposed and the National Commission of Fine Arts initiated a study for a suitable location. The study concluded that Peary’s original gravesite would be too difficult to develop into a larger memorial because of its location on the side of a hill, and an alternate area in Section 8 was selected as a better site. With the approval of Peary’s family and the National Geographic Society, his remains were disinterred and relocated to his current grave.
The monument, which was erected on the new lot a short time later, is a white Maine granite sphere with a carved map of the world. A three-inch bronze star representing the North Pole is positioned on the globe, with the monument oriented so this star points to the north. The design of the monument was in accord with suggestions Admiral Peary dictated to his wife shortly before his death. The monument bears the Latin inscription: “Inveniam Viam Aut Facium,” meaning “I shall find a way or make one.” In 1955 Henson was buried just a few feet from Peary.
In 1942 the SS Robert E. Peary, a Liberty ship, was commissioned and in 2008 the USNS Robert E. Peary, a cargo ship, became the fourth ship to be named for the local explorer. A local monument to Peary sits in Cresson, and Admiral Peary Vocational-Technical School in Ebensburg is named in his honor.
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Anyone who has been downtown in the vicinity of Central Park has seen it – that big church across Locust Street from the Post Office Building. It’s the Franklin Street United Methodist Church, one of Johnstown’s oldest. Its history, or at least the history of the congregation, goes back more than 200 years.
In 1809 Methodist Episcopals in Johnstown shared a building with local Presbyterians and Lutherans. The church, in a building called “Old Blackie,” was located at the corner of Napoleon and Market Streets, where Joseph Johns Junior High School would eventually be built.
In 1838 local Methodists chose the corner of what is now the corner of Franklin and Locust streets to build their church. As the congregation grew, the church underwent expansions in 1853 and 1869. Its 80-foot tall steeple is easily seen by anyone in the vicinity of Central Park. It is the only downtown church that predates the 1889 flood. It was also destined to play a major role in that disaster. In 1889 it was the largest church building in town, and the congregation was second in size only to St. Joseph’s, a nearby German Catholic church.
On that fateful day, May 31, 1889, the Reverend Henry L. Chapman was preparing his sermon for Sunday morning when something caught his eye outside the parsonage window. It was a railroad car, floating past the house! It had been raining all day, but it had not been raining hard enough to float a railroad car. He decided his sermon could wait. He gathered his family and rushed them to the attic. They spent the next several hours watching nearby houses being swept away when the South Fork Dam broke, while hoping their own home would not be next. After all, the parsonage had been their home for only a month and they had already grown to love it.
But the house stood firm, nestled next to the church, and their lives were spared. In fact, many lives would be spared because of the massive structure. When the flood waters hit the building, the church stood strong, causing the waters to split and go around. One reason for the building’s strength came from the material used in its construction: solid sandstone recycled from the Allegheny Portage Railroad and the canal that flowed through Johnstown at one time.
Those buildings, many of them anyway, that stood in the downstream side of the church remained standing because the church took the brunt of the force. One of those buildings spared from destruction was the Alma Hall, which was the subject of an earlier post. Many sermons would be preached in the coming weeks and months based on the church’s parting of the waters.
When the flood waters subsided it appeared that the church had survived with no damage. The exterior looked just as it did before the rains came and the dam burst. But the inside of the church was a different matter. Water stains inside the sanctuary showed that the water had reached a depth of 18 feet. The weight of that water, in turn, caused the floor to collapse. Plaster walls were ruined, and the choir loft and pews were unusable.
A committee charged with evaluating surviving structures inspected the church and decided it could not be salvaged. It was ordered to be dynamited and hauled away, until the commander of the relief troops learned the structure’s importance in saving many other buildings. He ordered that guards be placed around the church so that nobody could do any demolition until the committee reevaluated their decision. Fortunately for us, and for history, the committee reversed their position and the structure was saved.
Additional expansions took place in 1912 and 1958. The church would go on to survive two more major floods, in 1936 and 1977, making it one of the few churches in the country to endure three major disasters. It would also survive a major fire in 1950.
Reverend Chapman was one of three local clergymen (the other two were Reverend David J. Beale of the Presbyterian Church and Father Tahaney of St. John’s Catholic Church) who supervised disbursal of money from a large fund set up by New York newspapers to aid flood victims. Additional funding came from other Methodist churches, as well as a variety of other organizations around the world. What wasn’t needed to repair the church was re-donated by the church to individual flood victims.
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Actor Charles Bronson was born in nearby Ehrenfeld on November 3, 1921, the 11th of 15 children, to Lithuanian father Valeris Bucinskis and Pennsylvania-born Mary (Valinsky). His father eventually changed the name to Buchinsky, to sound more American. His father spoke no English, so none was spoken by any of the family at home. Even when he learned English, Bronson said his accent was so thick that friends thought he came from another country. Bronson ultimately became multi-lingual, speaking English, Lithuanian, Greek, and Russian.
The family was extremely poor during the Great Depression, and Bronson (still known then as Charles Dennis Buchinsky) said the family went hungry many times. He also recalled having to wear a sister’s dress to school because he had no boy’s clothes. His father died when Charles was 10, forcing Charles to work in local coal mines to feed the family, but despite the hardships, Bronson became the first in his family to graduate from high school. Following graduation he enlisted in the Army Air Force and flew 25 combat missions in WW II, receiving a Purple Heart for wounds received in battle in the Pacific Theater.
After leaving military service Bronson worked at odd jobs until he joined a Philadelphia theatrical group. Moving to New York because of better theatrical opportunities, he shared an apartment with another struggling actor, Jack Klugman. In 1950 he moved to Hollywood, enrolled in acting school, and began working in small roles. His first role was as a sailor in “You’re in the Navy Now,” a role so small that he wasn’t even credited. He would go on to appear in dozens of movies and television shows. Because of his rugged looks most of his roles were destined to be villains, tough guys, cowboys, or soldiers.
In 1954 he officially changed his name from Buchinsky to Bronson, not only because he thought it would help his acting career, but also because the McCarthy hearings were in full swing and he feared having a foreign name may be enough to raise suspicion.
At about the same time, he branched off into television, appearing mostly as a cowboy or a detective. In 1958 he scored his first leading role, playing a former combat photographer who was working as a detective in an ABC series called “Man With a Camera.” The series lasted three seasons. Never one to sit still, Bronson worked in both movies and television after the series ended. Some were low budget, low paying support roles, while others became hits. “The Magnificent Seven” brought him to the attention of the viewing public, and he even became a star in Russian movie houses.
In 1961 he received an Emmy nomination for a supporting actor in a CBS episode of General Electric Theater, a series hosted by future president Ronald Reagan. His career began to soar, and he was rarely without work. Producers came calling, and he soon found himself in such hit movies as “The Great Escape,” “The Dirty Dozen,” and “The Sandpiper.” He began starring in European movies, and by 1973 he was considered to be the top box office attraction in the world, commanding $1,000,000 per film. In 1980 he was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He had come a long way from the nights he cried himself to sleep as a hungry child.
In August 1998 he had hip-replacement surgery and his health seemed to deteriorate from that point on. On August 31, 2003 he took his last breath in Los Angeles. His poor health in his final days is reflected in his death certificate, which lists his causes of death as respiratory failure and metastatic lung cancer, with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and congestive cardiomyopathy. He was buried in West Windsor, Vermont, where he had owned a horse farm with his second wife, Jill Ireland.
1Laurel Highlands Historical Village Inc NP
Alan Freed was born in Windber on December 15, 1921. His family moved to Ohio when Freed was 12, and following high school graduation he attended Ohio State University. While there he took an interest in radio, and during WW II he served in the Army working as a DJ on Armed Forces Radio. After the war he returned to civilian life and took a series of jobs at small radio stations, where he played hot jazz and pop recordings. He said he played those because he liked the rhythms.
In 1945 he took a job at an Akron, Ohio radio station, where he quickly became a local favorite. Six years later he moved to a Cleveland station, even though he had a non-compete clause in his Akron contract. Until he was able to convince his former station to release him from that restriction, he did a night show. He coined a new phrase for the type of music he played, calling it “Rock and Roll,” the first person ever to do that.
Once the non-compete clause was settled, Freed eventually moved to daytime radio at the same station in Cleveland, WJW. He adapted a rhythm and blues song called Moondog as his theme song, leading to calling his show the Moondog House and referring to himself as King of the Moondoggers. Regular listeners loved his energetic style in an era when most disc jockeys were more subdued, and began working hipster phrases into his on-air patter.
In 1952 he organized a show at the Cleveland Arena, featuring five Rock and Roll bands, that he billed as the Moondog Coronation Ball. It is considered the world’s first rock concert. The concert was so popular that the police shut it down early because the size of the crowd exceeded the legal capacity of the arena. The shortening of the show caused a near riot but increased Freed’s reputation, leading to increased airtime at WJW.
Two years later his popularity led to a job offer from station WINS in New York City. It would be called “Alan Freed’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Dance Party.” The added exposure made him even more popular, leading to appearances in several motion pictures. That popularity launched a new career in television, where he hosted a primetime series called The Big Beat. The show had high ratings but was cancelled the next season after black singer Frankie Lymon was shown dancing with a white girl.
In 1958, at a show in Boston, he told his audience that it looked like the Boston Police didn’t want them to have a good time after the police attempted to control some unruly members of the crowd. Freed’s comments got him arrested for inciting to riot and resulted in his being fired from WINS.
A year later, now working at WABC in New York, Freed was fired again, this time for accepting payments from record companies to play their records. The practice, although technically legal., was highly controversial. Referred to as “Payola”, it ensnared many DJs and was declared illegal in 1960. Unable to now find work at any big station, he moved to the west coast, working at smaller stations.
Alan Freed, the boy from Windber who coined the phrase “Rock and Roll”, died in 1965 in Palm Springs, California. He was only 43. He was initially buried in Hartsdale, New York, but his family later had his ashes buried in Lake View Cemetery in Cleveland. His headstone was made in the form of a jukebox.
In 1986, Freed was part of the first class to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He was inducted into the National Radio Hall of Fame a year later and received a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame three years after that. In 2002 he was posthumously presented with a Trustees Award at the Grammy Awards. The honors continued in 2017 when he was inducted into the National Rhythm and Blues Hall of Fame. Oh, yeah, … there was one more honor. The National Basketball Association’s Cleveland Cavaliers mascot was named Moondog, in honor of Alan Freed.
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Hugh “Duffy” Daugherty was born September 8, 1915 in Emeigh, in the northern part of Cambria County. He would grow up to be short and stocky, with twinkling eyes and a smile that caused sports writers to refer to him as an Irish pixie, although his parents were both natives of Pennsylvania and his grandparents had immigrated from Scotland.
Daugherty played college football at Syracuse University, serving as the team’s co-captain his senior year. He enlisted in the army on February 7, 1941, 10 months before the United States entered World War II following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. By the time he left the army he had risen from a private to the rank of major, earning a Bronze Star along the way.
After leaving the army in 1946 he took a job as assistant coach at Syracuse under Clarence “Biggie” Munn. Daugherty was responsible for coaching the linemen. When Munn was hired to coach at Michigan State University in 1947 he asked Daugherty to go with him. There, Daugherty assisted Munn’s team to a national championship five years later, with the team’s linemen known as “Duffy’s Toughies.” When Munn moved up to become Michigan State’s athletic director in 1953, Daugherty was hired as the Spartans’ head coach.
Daugherty’s first season was hardly a success, winning only 3 games while losing 6. The next year, however, Michigan State had an 8-1 regular season record and went on to defeat UCLA 17-14 in the Rose Bowl. It was only the second bowl win in the school’s history, and Daugherty was named Coach of the Year by the largest percentage in the award’s history. His photo graced the cover of Time Magazine.
In 1965 Daugherty’s Spartans finished undefeated in 10 games but lost to UCLA in the Rose Bowl 14-12. Despite that loss, Michigan State was good enough to be named national champions again by the UPI and the National Football Foundation. The next year he went 9-0 and was ranked Number 2 going into the final game against top ranked Notre Dame. The big showdown was called the Game of the Century. Perhaps fittingly between two outstanding teams, the game ended in a 10-10 tie. The two major polls ultimately named the Fighting Irish as national champions, but the National Football Foundation declared the two as co-champions.
Daugherty resigned his position as head coach at the end of the 1972 season with 109 career wins, the most in MSU history until that record was broken in 2019. Daugherty coached 32 All-Americans and was one of the first college coaches to recruit black players and field an integrated team. His efforts to recruit black players when it wasn’t yet popular led to his recruiting being referred to as the Underground Railroad.
In his honor the university named the football team’s practice facility the Duffy Daugherty Football Building. He was named to the state of Michigan’s Sports Hall of Fame in 1975 and to the College Football Hall of Fame in 1984. Every year an award is presented to an individual for lifetime achievement and outstanding contribution to amateur football. That award is named the Duffy Daugherty Memorial Award.
After leaving Michigan State, Daugherty worked as a television color analyst for several years. At the age of 72 he was hospitalized with heart and kidney disease and never recovered. On September 25, 1987, a month after entering Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara, California, Duffy Daugherty passed away. He was buried in Calvary Cemetery in Santa Barbara.
In 1924 Lilly Borough was a small town with a population of about 2300, 90% of whom were Catholic. Feelings ran deep between the Catholics of the town and the few Protestants. Children were told to play only with kids from their own religion, and more than one family was split because a child married outside his or her church.
But the people of the town had one common enemy: the Ku Klux Klan, which was fairly active in Cambria County at that time, not to mention its national strength. As many as 250,000 Pennsylvanians were estimated to be Klan members, and 65 of the state’s 67 counties had at least one chapter. But why would the KKK care about Lilly, despite its heavy Catholic concentration? The answer is simple. In addition to being anti-black and anti-semitic, the Klan was vehemently anti-Catholic and anti-immigrant. As in most small coal mining towns in Pennsylvania, many of the miners were Irish and Italian immigrants, making Lilly a natural target for the Klan. Further, the United Mine Workers Union had decided to expel union members who also belonged to the KKK. The Klan wanted revenge, and Lilly was a UMW stronghold.
The Klan had attempted to hold rallies in Lilly in the past but the people of the town put their religious differences aside and joined forces to resist, going so far as to knock down the Klan’s crosses before they could be burned. On April 5, 1924, things came to a head. That night more than 300 Klansmen reserved and boarded a train in Johnstown, calling it the KKK Special. Another 100 boarded a second train when it stopped in Johnstown as part of its regularly scheduled route. All 400 got off the train in Lilly, each carrying a small package in the proverbial plain brown wrapper. The packages served a dual purpose. First, they identified them as Klansmen to other Klansmen, and second, the packages carried their hoods and robes, which they all put on as soon as the got off the train.
Not everyone in Lilly was against the Klan, however. The Klan newspaper, the “Keystone American,” was routinely sold in town, right beside the Johnstown Tribune, and a Klan-friendly citizen had already erected two crosses on a hill at the far edge of town known as Piper’s Field, named for the nearby Piper Mine.
The Klan wasted little time in forming a march from the train to Piper’s Field, and as they marched, the town went dark when another citizen, also sympathetic to the Klan, cut the power line. In the darkness, the Klan held a two-hour ceremony, complete with a burning of both crosses, as well as dynamite explosions. As the ceremony unfolded, citizens of the town came up with a plan to defy the Klan on their return to the train.
Their initial idea, to release loaded mine cars from the Piper Mine that would careen down the tracks and smash into the KKK Special., was voted down, but what happened next was not. As the Klan marched back to the train, they were met by hundreds of jeering citizens lining their route. One Klansmen was dragged from the march and severely beaten, which was not part of the plan but nobody seemed to mind. Then, the plan was put into action.
As the Klan made its way through the throng, a fire hose was turned on them, its force knocking several of the hooded marchers off their feet. Even those who maintained their footing couldn’t avoid being drenched by the powerful force of the water. Several Klansmen drew guns and fired into the crowd. Some in the crowd returned fire.
The first to die was the man holding the nozzle of the fire hose, 22-year old Frank Miesko. Someone else took over for Miesko, continuing the town’s fight against the visitors. More shots rang out and 24-year old Phil Conrad, an innocent bystander who was standing away from the crowd, was hit. He had just stepped out of the local gymnasium where he was scheduled to keep the score for a playoff basketball game. Conrad would have turned 25 the next day. The third death was that of 26-year old Cloyd Paul, a South Fork resident who was said to have cut the wood that was used to make the crosses.
The Klan eventually fought their way to the train and started back toward Johnstown, many throwing their guns out the train’s windows along the way. In their wake they left 20 wounded, in addition to the three men killed. When they arrived in Johnstown, policed locked the train’s doors and searched every car before allowing anyone to exit. Weapons were confiscated, and 25 who still possessed guns were arrested. For the next several days, state policemen on horseback patrolled the town of Lilly.
One Klansman and one Lilly citizen were charged with murder. The charges were dropped when nobody was willing to testify against either one. Forty-four more, 28 Klansmen and 16 town citizens, were charged with rioting, affray, and unlawful assembly. All Cambria County judges recused themselves from trying the cases, and Judge Thomas E. Finletter was brought in from Philadelphia to preside. All 44 people charged were found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison. Before dismissing the court, Finletter, who apparently was a no-nonsense sort, vowed that anyone caught out on the streets that night would be arrested and charged with rioting. Nobody chose to see if he was serious.
For years the people of Lilly refused to discuss what happened that night, either with news reporters or anyone else. The fear that the Klan would retaliate was palpable, but the actions of the town were heard around the country. Many credit that night in April, 1924 in a small Cambria County town, with being the beginning of the end for the Klan. Their membership began to dwindle, and it never again reached the peak it had seen before they met the people of Lilly.
A monument, showing two joined hands holding back a group of Klansmen, has been erected in Lilly to honor those who stood up to hatred. Shown in the accompanying photo, it depicts two linked arms holding back a crowd of Klansmen.
Frank Joseph Kush was born in Windber on January 20, 1929 and attended Windber High School, where he was good enough to earn a football scholarship to Michigan State University. There, despite playing at 5’-7” in height and weighing only 160 pounds, he played on the defensive line, earning All-American honors his senior year and helping MSU win the national championship.
Following graduation he entered the army, rising to the rank of 1st Lieutenant and getting his first experience at coaching, leading the Fort Benning football team. After leaving military service he was offered an assistant coaching job at Arizona State College, now Arizona State University. When head coach Dan Devine left to coach at the University of Missouri, Kush moved into the Arizona State head coach’s position, a job he would hold for 22 years.
He quickly gained a reputation as a stern taskmaster, and his practice sessions were often described as brutal. He had no time for players that he thought were not giving 100%, even in practice, and new player quickly learned that, some of them learning the hard way. His legendary practice sessions came to prove his undoing when a former player filed a $1.1 million dollar lawsuit against him and his staff, charging that Kush and his assistants had harassed him physically and mentally to the point where he felt compelled to transfer. The trial went in Kush’s favor, but he was ultimately fired in 1979 by the university for allegedly interfering with the investigation. He left the university having compiled a 176-54-1 record, with only one losing season. His teams finished up number two in the nation on two separate occasions. He won two Border Conference Championships and seven WAC championships, had a 6-1 bowl record, and was named Coach of the Year in 1975 by both the American Football Coaches Association and the Walter Camp Football Foundation.
Kush sat out the 1980 season before taking the head coaching job with the Hamilton Tiger-Cats in the Canadian Football League. In his only season with Hamilton his team went 11-4-1 and advanced to the Eastern Conference championship game. It would be his last successful season as a coach.
In 1981 he took over the coaching duties for the Baltimore Colts, where he met coaching adversity for the first tie. In that season, shortened by a players’ strike, he finished 0-8-1. His reputation as a no-nonsense coach followed him the next year when number one draft pick John Elway refused to sign with the Colts, saying he didn’t want to play for Kush. Despite not getting the quarterback he wanted when Elway was traded to the Denver Broncos without ever wearing a Colts uniform, Kush’s Colts improved to 7-9. The Colts would move to Indianapolis for the next season.
On December 13, 1984, with a 4-7 record and with one game remaining, Kush left the Colts, saying he wanted to spend more time with his family, who had remained in Arizona. To accommodate that desire, he accepted the head coaching position with the Arizona Outlaws of the new U.S. Football League. Unfortunately, the league never really got off the ground and folded in August 1986.
Now unemployed but still being paid by the Outlaws under terms of his contract, he offered to assist the owner of the Outlaws by coaching beginners in a local youth football league. Kush often joked that, in doing so, he became the highest paid Pop Warner coach in the country. Not surprisingly, considering his tough image, he also served as Director of the Arizona Boys Ranch, a facility for juvenile defenders.
In 1967 he was voted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. It would take 28 more years, but in 1995 he was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame. He was also named to the National Polish-American Sports Hall of Fame. In 1996, based on his work at the Arizona Boys Ranch, he was welcomed back to Arizona State University as a goodwill ambassador, and on September 21, 1996 the university proclaimed Frank Kush Day, announcing that they were renaming the playing field at Sun Devil Stadium “Frank Kush Field” in his honor. Four years later, proving there were no hard feelings, ASU made Kush their assistant athletic director.
Frank Kush died on June 22, 1917 in Phoenix at the age of 88. He was buried in that city’s Saint Francis Cemetery.
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22 As we drive around Johnstown we can’t help but notice the concrete river walls that have become so much a part of our daily lives. We see them so often that most of us never give them a second thought. I alluded to them in my earlier posts on the floods that have plagued Johnstown, but today we’ll look at them in more detail.
After the 1936 flood Johnstown was given a promise by Secretary of War George H. Dern and Major General Edward M. Markham that the federal government was going to see to it that flood control steps would be taken to guarantee that floods would no longer be a part of our routine. That promise was bolstered in a speech by President Franklin D. Roosevelt given at Roxbury Park in august 1936. That speech and a small marker commemorating the event were the subjects of an earlier post.
That same year, independent of any federal action, the Pennsylvania legislature implemented a statewide 10% tax on the sale of alcohol, the proceeds of which were to come to Johnstown to assist in the recovery effort. That tax became known as the Johnstown Flood Tax, and by 1942 it had generated $42 million for Johnstown’s flood relief. Seeing a good thing, the state made the tax permanent in 1951, but removed Johnstown as the sole recipient. The state’s general treasury now became the beneficiary. Since then the tax has ben increased twice, to 18%.
Then, before the federal government could do anything, floods struck again, this time on April 26, 1937. By now, city officials had heard enough talk, and demanded action. Mayor Daniel Shields led a group of local movers and shakers to Washington, where they met with congressmen and senators. Their meetings must have done some good, because the Flood Control Act of 1936, designed to construct dams and provide flood control along the rivers of Pennsylvania, was quickly (for congress) passed. The first payment of $1,000,000 was authorized in September, 1937, to be applied to a $7,600,000 flood control project for the city.
The project specifically called for enlargement and deepening of the city’s river channels to facilitate water flow during periods of heavy rains or other high water events. The Little Conemaugh River channel was restored to its original 125 feet width. Similarly, the Stonycreek Rive channel’s width was restored to 225 feet and that of the Conemaugh River increased to 260 feet. Concrete river walls were also constructed and can be seen in the accompanying photos. (The color photo is what the walls look like today.) At the time, the Johnstown project was the largest flood control system in the nation.
The entire project was completed in 1943 and, with the exception of the 500-year storm of 1977, Johnstown has been spared from the major flooding that was so common in years past. After the 1977 flood the Army Corps of Engineers assessed the effects of the flood control project and determined that, despite the damage and loss of life, the project did its job, reducing the potential flood level in the city by 11 feet. The study also determined that many more lives would have been lost without the flood control, and that damage would have been twice as extensive.
While we can’t really say we are the Flood Free City, we can definitely breathe a bit easier than our ancestors did when heavy rain was predicted.
It had been a rainy night in the Virginia countryside, that night of June 4-5, 1864. Not a night for sleeping outside, not that many of the Union soldiers of Major General David Hunter had been able to sleep. It would be a safe bet to say that few of them were in a good mood as they ate a breakfast of hardtack and poor-quality coffee. Not far away the Confederate forces under Brigadier General William E. (Grumble) Jones had spent a similar night. Now cold, wet, and hungry, they were no more likely to be in a good mood than were their Federal counterparts. The rebel general’s demeanor was normally irritable, even on his good days (hence the nickname Grumble). He had little reason to feel any differently that morning.
Hunter had just taken command a few weeks earlier, replacing Franz Sigel. Sigel had been relieved of his command by Lieutenant General Ulysses Grant after his defeat at New Market. Now, Hunter, a West Point graduate, and his troops were moving toward Staunton, an important railroad center for the Confederacy. Jones, also an alum of West Point, was determined to stop him. The two would meet near the village of Piedmont.
Among the Union troops that day was Private Thomas Evans. Evans had been born in Wales in 1824. He and his family had immigrated to the United States, settling near Ebensburg. On February, 1864 he had joined the Union army as part of the 54th Pennsylvania Infantry. He had been assigned to Company D.
The two armies, with Hunter holding a decided advantage in troop numbers, clashed around noon on June 5, 1864. The fighting became heated very quickly, and the 54th Pennsylvania was ordered to fix bayonets and move to the top of a ridgeline. Once there, they fired into a group of Virginians, throwing them into chaos. Before the rebels could regroup, the 54th mounted a charge.
Suddenly, Evans confronted the Confederate flag bearer, who was desperately trying to rally his men. Evans described him as being “…the biggest rebel I ever saw, …about the size of a grizzly bear.” Evans had not yet had time to reload his rifle, and he claimed that he had never used his bayonet before except as a candle holder or to hold a piece of meat over a campfire.
Using his rifle as a club, Evans hit the Confederate’s flag staff, causing the man to lower the flag. Evans later said, “I didn’t know what else to do except grab the cloth with my left hand and pull. ‘Let go Reb,’ I shouted. ‘Let go yourself,’ says he.” The two pulled back and forth, circling one another, with the Southerner having a slight advantage due to holding on with two hands, while Evans was using only one. The other hand, however, held his gun, and in the struggle he was able to raise it enough that he could point it at his adversary. Evans goes on to say that he yelled at the man, “Drop that there flag or I will pin you to a tree.”
Surprisingly, the flag bearer gave up and surrendered to Evans. Evans sent the Virginian to the rear and turned the captured flag over to his lieutenant, then returned to the fighting. When the battle was over, the Union army had prevailed, inflicting an estimated 1,500 casualties, including 1,000 captured, on the rebels. Among the 1,000 prisoners was the Virginia flag bearer. Among the dead was General Jones.
Spying the man he had engaged in hand-to-hand combat, Evans noticed that, after the adrenalin rush of battle had worn off, the man wasn’t really as big as a grizzly bear. In fact, he and Evans were nearly the same size. Reflecting the honor code of the time, Evans showed no hard feelings and gave the man some food and a bit of money to help him in the prisoner of war camp.
A few weeks ago I posted about another local Union soldier, George Reed of the 11th Pennsylvania. In that post I described the importance attached to capturing an enemy regimental flag. On November 24, 1864 Thomas Evans was awarded the Medal of Honor for his role in capturing the flag of the 45th Virginia at Piedmont.
Evans died in 1866 and is buried in the Bethel Baptist Church Cemetery outside Ebensburg.
If someone asked you how many floods Johnstown has had, what would be your answer? Three? Two? Only one? As it turns out, floods are nothing new to Johnstown. We think of 1889, 1936, and 1977 when we think of floods. However, history says otherwise: since flooding was recorded, Johnstown has experienced 19 measurable floods. In fact, there have been so many that they can’t all be included in one post, so this will have to be a two-part posting.
The first recorded flood took place in Spring, 1808, when rain and runoff from snow melt caused rivers to rise and flood the streets. Citizens fled to higher ground but there were no casualties and only minimal damage. Three years later, in 1811, the Stonycreek Dam gave way, washing away the Cambria Forge at the head of Vine Street and flooding local streets again. In 1816 torrential rains caused a sudden rise in the rivers and street flooding. Once again, local citizens headed for higher ground to escape the rising water.
1820 was the year of the famous Pumpkin Flood. Rivers rose again, and water was reported to reach to the tops of fences. The waters swept cattle, barns, fences, houses, and the large crop of pumpkins as far as the Ohio and Mississippi Valleys. Most of this was from farms in the 15th and 16 Wards, what is now Cambria City. Of all the livestock swept away, only one cow survived. She was rescued near Coopersdale.
In 1847 the South Fork Dam (Yes, that one!) broke. Newly constructed, it damaged the canal and basin and carried canal boats from the basin that had been kept there for loading and unloading. Water ran four to six feet deep in the area now occupied by Gautier Works at the edge of downtown.
Heavy rains caused flooding once again in 1859, forcing the rivers over the banks. Areas below Walnut Street downtown were impassable from the flooding, but local citizens were becoming jaded to the high waters that were happening every few years. This time, the flooding hardly raised any excitement.
After the Pennsylvania Railroad purchased the South Fork Dam (discussed in my post about the Allegheny Portage National Historic Site a few days ago) the railroad determined that they really had no use for the dam and stopped maintaining it. As would be expected, the dam deteriorated, and in July 1862 two leaks released sufficient water to flood the entire valley. The entire lower portions of the city were under water. By the time the water level at the dam dropped below the leaks, the dam was half empty.
The weather was relatively subdued for six years, until March 13, 1868 when a sudden Spring thaw and breaking river ice caused the rivers to overflow. The Kernville bridge was swept from its moorings and two houses on what was then known as Goose Island were destroyed. Otherwise, most of the damage occurred to farm land. Fields had to be retilled and sowed, but property damage was minimal aside from that mentioned. The flooding did spawn a new custom for Johnstowners, though. After this, livestock was moved to higher ground any time floods threatened.
Then, once again the city got a respite, with no flooding until June 7, 1887. Then a storm front hit the ridges and stalled once again, with the heavy rainfall flooding all streets below Jackson Street. The water ran six to eight feet deep at the Point, causing people to move their furniture to higher floors. Two bridges were carried away, and overall damage was estimated at $75,000 to $100,000 damage (between $2,000,000 and $3,000,000 today).
On Monday, August 20, 1888, steady rain fell for 24 hours. Local citizens breathed a sigh of relief when the rain stopped, but after a short lull came the deluge. The Stonycreek River rose seven feet in 2-1/2 hours. Water at the Point ran four feet deep, and driftwood piled up and stuck at the Point Bridge, hindered drainage and flooding houses up to the second floor. Those in low areas moved to the hills. In reference to the city’s location, surrounded by hills, a frustrated Tribune editorial lamented that “. . .a two inch stream can’t be forced through a one inch pipe.”
Then came that fateful day: May 31, 1889. Heavy rainfall and poor maintenance caused the dam at the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club to break, sending more than 4,000,000,000 gallons of water into Johnstown. Many tried to move to high ground, but flooded streets hindered their progress. After the waters receded, 2209 were dead, about 80 of them dying when caught in debris that backed up and caught fire at the Stone Bridge. Water backed up to the 8th Ward (then known as Grubtown), then released again, catching many that thought they were now safe. Johnstown became the site of the worst natural disaster in American history, a dubious title we would hold until 1906, when the San Francisco earthquake an estimated 3,000 lives, and again in 1909, when the Galveston hurricane took some 8,000 lives. Even today, the History Channel considers the Johnstown Flood as third worst.
Yesterday’s post discussed the floods that Johnstown experienced between 1808 and 1889. Today we will cover the period since the infamous 1889 flood.
Even with the 1889 flood behind us, Mother Nature was still not finished. On February 17, 1891 flooding once again dislodged a house from its foundation and damaged others. For the first time, steps were taken to minimize future flooding, when the Conemaugh River was widened to 200 feet to increase the flow of water.
On May 20, 1894 heavy storms and winter thaw runoff caused local rivers to rise six feet in one hour. Lower areas flooded and six railroad cars derailed when the train inadvertently passed over a section of track that had ben washed out. Two lives were lost (13 year old Thomas McFeeters and a 13 year old girl named Gates).
On February 28, 1902 snow melt and ice thaw caused rivers to rise again. Horses were said to be belly deep on Napoleon Street. Business lost significant stock and 6,000 found themselves out of work when Cambria Iron Lower Works flooded. The waters deposited several thousand tons of sand on Iron Street, most of which was used by contractors in the rebuilding effort.
The rivers overflowed yet again in early June, 1906, causing the depth on streets to rise four feet in one hour. Sewers backed up and basements flooded along Valley Pike and the 1st, 2nd, 5th, 7th, and 8th wards. Water levels were measured at 17 feet at the Franklin Street Bridge, and the B&O Railroad shut down for several days. In a tragic incident, water levels rose to eight feet deep inside buildings at Island Park in Benscreek, drowning most of the animals.
What was reported to be the worst flooding since the 1889 flood took place on March 14, 1907 when heavy rains and melting snow swept houses, small buildings, and fences away. When rising water threatened a livery stable on Vine Street (where the First Lutheran Church now stands) the stable attendants forced the horses to swim to a safe location on Lincoln Street. When the water went down, citizens were shocked to see hundreds of catfish and suckers strewn along streets. The smell was said to be overpowering within a few days. Ironically, the flood proved to be a boon to local merhants, who reported sales of $5000 worth of boots in one afternoon. Sadly, this flood produced one fatality, the son of the pastor of First United Brethren church, who was pulled into the current as he was attempting to lasso some drifting logs and got tangled in the rope.
The winter of 1935-36 was the worst in years. On March 15-16, 1936, heavy rains and snow melt combined with rapidly rising temperatures to produce what became known as the St. Patrick’s Day Flood. Appliances, pianos, and debris was said to be floating through the streets. Bridges cracked and crumbled. Houses were forced off their foundations. Overturned cars were crushed against buildings. A high water mark at Locust Street and Lee Place was measured at 12.37 feet, five feet lower than in 1889, but water in Cambria City rose 1-1/2 feet higher than in 1889 because water wasn’t backed up at the Stone Bridge. Damages totaled millions of dollars. Then, panic ensued when a rumor was spread that the Quemahoning Dam had broken, a rumor that proved to be false. Once again the Red Cross came in to assist the 9,000 homeless. Fatalities were listed at 25. A curfew was established, sightseers were banned, and alcohol sales suspended. The National Guard arrived, including 1,724 men from the 112th Infantry, part of the 110th infantry, a squadron of cavalry, and a hospital company. Also arriving were 80 state troopers. Some 7,000 men and 350 trucks from the Works Progress Administration projects in neighboring counties were brought in to clean up, and the WPA promised that all damaged or destroyed property would be repaired or rebuilt at no cost to the city. Most importantly, though, was the assurance from Secretary of War George H. Dern and Major-General Edward M. Markham, Chief of Army Engineers, that flood control measures would be taken to prevent future recurrence. To reinforce that promise, on August 13 President Franklin D. Roosevelt came to see the damage and promised in a speech a Roxbury Park (featured in a previous post) that the federal govt. would cooperate with city and state officials to prevent future floods.
Before anything could be done regarding flood control, however, Johnstown fell victim to flooding once again. On April 26, 1937 heavy rainfall produced water depths as high as five feet on some city streets. Official measurements of the Stonycreek River showed a depth of 17.53 feet. Merchants moved their inventories, plate glass windows were barricaded, street car service was stopped, and vehicle traffic was suspended. The temporary Franklin Street Bridge, newly erected by the WPA, was swept away, and the new Ferndale Bridge, still under construction, was damaged. The Red Cross set up yet another refugee center to help those who had left their homes. Now out of patience, a delegation headed by Mayor Daniel Shields went to Washington to demand action on food control, and five months later the first phase of funding was authorized by Congress. When completed in 1943, the city proclaimed itself as the “Flood Free City,” a claim that would prove more promotional than factual.
Hurricane Hazel in 1954 and Hurricane Agnes in 1972 both dumped huge amounts of rain on the city and the river channels had contained the water, perhaps leading to a feeling of complacency. On July 19, 1977 Johnstown learned that it really wasn’t flood free. That night multiple thunderstorms passed over the city, one after another, dropping nearly 12 inches of rain by morning. The National Weather Bureau described the phenomenon as “training,” much like one car of a train following the one in front. Lightning flashed constantly, and six dams in the area failed. River channels designed to handle 81,500 cubic feet of water per minute were given the impossible task of handling 115,000 cubic feet per minute. Six dams in the area failed, releasing another estimated 128,000,000 gallons of water on the already drenched city. The flooding took 85 lives in the area and did an estimated $300 million in damage. The names of the flood victims are engraved on a memorial that was erected in Central Park.
The 1977 flood also took a tremendous economic toll on the area. Many businesses never reopened, infrastructure was destroyed, but the biggest blow was brought by the decision by Bethlehem Steel Corporation to only open a fraction of its mills, and eventually would close even those. Where once 18,000 people had worked, now the lights were turned off. Thousands of supplemental jobs were also lost, adding to the disaster. Just five years earlier Johnstown had been named an All-American City. The 1977 flood brought it to its knees. But just as quickly, under the banner “We Will Rebuild together,” the recovery began, and Johnstown showed the world the real meaning of the word “resiliency.”
If you will pardon just a bit of shameless self-promotion, I must explain why I have a special affinity for today’s subject, Major James Gageby. One summer evening in the early 1990s I accompanied my daughter, Cheryl, to Grandview Cemetery so she could work on a college project, recording information from the gravestones of Civil War veterans. As she was doing that, I wandered around looking at the various monuments in the area. One that caught my eye was the Gageby family plot. I vaguely remembered reading something about Gageby but couldn’t remember what, so over the next few weeks I went to the library and did some research. It turns out that he was a participant in the famous tunnel escape out of the Confederacy’s notorious Libby Prison in Richmond, Virginia. The 109 Union officers, including Gageby, made up what is still the largest mass escape of American prisoners of war in U.S. History.
After dozens of trips to the National Archives to do further research, I hit a wall. I contacted the National Park Service asking if they could add anything to what I had found. I was surprised when they got back to me and said “We don’t have anything like this. Can we use your information?” They also suggested I get my work published. This all led to my first book, “Escape From Libby Prison,” which won some awards and was featured in a Discovery Channel documentary. The highlight came when Warner-Brothers offered me a contract, hoping to make a feature movie starring Tom Hanks that would be based on the book. (Spoiler Alert: W-B dropped the movie from their production schedule four years later after spending several hundred thousand dollars, but it started a sequence of events that led me to write eight more books). Anyway, that’s why I have a special place in my heart for James Gageby, and I want to tell his story here.
Gageby was born in Johnstown September 5, 1835, the son of Robert B. and Rebecca (Scott) Gageby. His grandfather had emigrated to America from Scotland in 1744 and was said to have been in Independence Hall in Philadelphia when the Declaration of Independence was first read. Not to be outdone, Gageby’s father assisted in the construction of the Portage Railroad and the Pennsylvania Canal (discussed in an earlier post). Gageby also was a direct descendent of William the Conqueror.
He entered military service April 19, 1861 as a sergeant in Company K of the 3rd Pennsylvania Volunteers, also known as the Johnstown Zouaves. When his three-month term of enlistment was up, he assisted in the recruitment of a company for the 76th Pennsylvania Volunteers, but before the regiment was officially organized, he joined the 19th United States Infantry, where he was appointed 1st sergeant in Company G. The regiment would serve as guard for General George McClellan, and subsequently, Gageby took part in the battles of South Mountain, Antietam, and Fredericksburg. He would receive an appointment as brevet 1st lieutenant as a reward for his “gallant and meritorious service” in the Battle of Hoover’s Gap. As a member of Company A after reassignment, he was wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga on September 20, 1863, when he was captured and placed in Libby Prison.
While in Libby Prison he became a close friend of Colonel Thomas Rose of the 77th Pennsylvania, who was planning an escape. Rose and Captain Andrew Hamilton of the 12th Kentucky Cavalry had actually been plotting an escape before Gageby and Rose became friends, and when the final tunnel was begun, Rose wanted Gageby to help with the digging. Unfortunately, some of the more senior officers were against having junior officers in the digging crew, so Gageby and Lieutenant M. C. Causten were assigned the task of maintaining security to prevent the Confederates from discovering the tunnel.
All told, Rose and Hamilton, as well as those on their crew, made eight unsuccessful and harrowing attempts at getting out of the prison, narrowly escaping apprehension each time when either the Confederates or circumstances thwarted the attempt. Finally, the successful tunnel was completed and, on February 9, 1864, the escape was made when 109 officers, including Gageby, crawled out through the 18” diameter tunnel after navigating their way through the part of the prison basement known as Rat Hell, for the thousands of rats that inhabited that part of the prison.
Unfortunately for Gageby, he was recaptured two days later at Charles City Crossroads with two other escapees and returned to Libby, where he was placed in the prison’s moldy and rat-infested dungeon with only minimal amounts of bread and water to eat and drink. He was eventually transferred to nine different Confederate prisons before being released on parole on March 1, 1865. He returned to duty in time to fight at the Battle of Lookout Mountain in Tennessee.
He was promoted to captain and reassigned to the 37th Infantry, taking part in several minor expeditions and a few engagements against the Apaches and Comanches before being assigned to Company D of the 3rd Infantry, which was ordered to provide protection for railroad construction crews against attacks by the Arapahoes and Cheyennes. He then assisted with reconstruction duties in the South before becoming a recruiter for the 3rd Infantry.
In 1873 he married Matilda Fend of Johnstown, and the two had one daughter, Emma, who was born at Fort Missoula, Montana where Gageby was stationed at the time. He was at home on leave in 1889 when the flood hit, and his home was destroyed and his mother and two sisters drowned. He was placed on temporary assignment with the National Guard, to allow him to assist with the recovery effort. Returning to duty he was promoted to major of the 12th Infantry and placed in command of Fort Sully, South Dakota and Fort Niobrara, Nebraska.
James Gageby died on July 13, 1896 and was laid to rest in the family plot in Grandview. Gageby Creek, Colorado and Gageby Creek, Texas are named in his honor.
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Have you ever heard of Daniel Rose? No? Well, I never did either. That is, until E. J. Oleksak tipped me off and suggested I do a post about him. When I started looking into his story I was amazed. So . . . guess who today’s post is about? Thank you, Jane, for the suggestion, and the rest of you, buckle up and enjoy the ride.
Daniel and his twin sister, Lovina, were born in Johnstown on February 25, 1871 to Samuel and Annie Eash Rose. Daniel was no different than other boys, full of energy and always up for a good time. Unlike his twin sister, he didn’t care much for school, so he was fine with the lax truancy rules of the day. To Daniel, education was for the other kids.
When he was only eight years old, however, he was stricken with rheumatism. His mother took care of him when he was younger, but she died when he was 13. His father had all he could do to earn a living and take care of all nine children in the family. But Daniel’s joy of life was not diminished. At the age of 15 he trained a team of oxen, then hitched them up and pulled his brothers and sisters around the family farm on a home-made bobsled, taking great pleasure in starting the team off with a crack of the whip so all his passengers would be thrown off the sled. He did what he could to help on the family farm in Elton until he was 18, but the disease got worse with each passing year until by the age of nineteen Daniel was crippled. His neck was so stiff he could barely hold his head up, and turning his head was impossible. He looked at the world sideways with one eye. He was now an invalid except for his forearms and one hand.
Daniel had been helping his father in the family sawmill when he was eight years old, so he had grown up loving the smell of wood and the opportunity to work with his hands. It was only natural that, to occupy his time, he took up whittling. But he didn’t just whittle away at sticks; he made things. He trained himself to make wooden chains from a single piece of wood. Then he began making small replicas of tools, then folding fans. Then one night he had a dream that he could carve the same kinds of things but carve them in a bottle. He had seen ships in bottles, so how was that any different? Soon, he was carving a small chair and maneuvering it into a bottle. It was long, slow work, and it required an enormous amount of patience, but so what? What else did he have to do?
After the chair he began other carvings, all more intricate than anything he had ever done. Skeptics doubted that he could get the pieces through the small neck of the bottle, saying he must have a false bottom on the bottles. All they had to do to be convinced, however, was to watch him work, carving each piece in great detail, then slipping them into the bottle where he assembled them. They left his shop, shaking their heads in amazement.
As he got better at his craft the carvings became more elaborate. First, Noah’s ark, complete with two of every animal, just like Noah. Then, miniature replicas of all the world’s great musical instruments, followed by a bottle containing replicas of all the tools a carpenter used. He carved an entire miniature village in action form, using hidden springs to make the figures move. His village had women hanging out clothes, men pumping water from wells or sawing wood, and bicycles on the streets. One memorable scene in the display showed a woman chasing a mouse, attempting to hit it with her broom. When the mouse runs into a hole, the woman waits for it to come out the other side, whereupon she strikes the rodent with the broom. He sold his work at prices ranging from fifty cents to $100. Today, collectors pay thousands of dollars for his carvings in bottles.
He studied the Bible, claiming that he read it in its entirety seven times, and the New Testament 31 times. In 1900 he was baptized into the Mennonite faith. Many of his carvings took on religious themes. He became known as the Champion Whittler of the United States.
On Sunday, June 26, 1921 friends took Daniel and his sister to church. On the way home the car collided with another vehicle, throwing Daniel out onto the street with both legs broken and severe internal injuries. He would live only for about three more hours. He was buried in the Weaver Cemetery, off Eisenhower Boulevard in Richland.
Today’s subject, Prince Gallitzin, has been suggested by several of my Catholic friends. Although I had heard of Prince Gallitzin, mostly because of the local state park named for him, I have to admit that I didn’t really know much about him. After researching his life, I think he is a very worthy subject. I hope you agree.
Demetrius Augustine Gallitzin was born December 22, 1770 in The Hague into one of the wealthiest families in Russia. His father, Prince Demetrius Gallitzin, was the Russian ambassador to the Netherlands when young Demetrius was born. His mother was a countess, his grandmother was a baroness, and his grandfather was the famed cartographer and Prussian field marshal Samuel Graf von Schmettau. As a youth the young prince was a close friend of Frederick William, who would eventually become King of the Netherlands and Duke of Luxembourg.
To please his mother, Demetrius became a sincere Catholic at the age of 16, with his first Holy Communion on August 28, 1786, the day of the feast of St. Augustine. He took the name of Augustine in the saint’s honor, calling himself Augustine Smith as a sign of humility, rather than using his title of Prince. Upon finishing school he was appointed an aide-de-camp to the Austrian General Georg von Lillien, but rather than pursuing a military career he left Rotterdam on August 18, 1792 on a two-year journey around the world. He landed in Baltimore on October 28, 1792 and made the decision to stay in America. Seeing the needs of the church in this country, he vowed to devote his life to saving souls in America. He became a priest, believing that would be the best way to accomplish that, with his ordination coming on March 18, 1795.
The next year he found himself in Conewago, Pennsylvania, where he received a sick-call to attend a Mrs. John Burgoon, a Protestant living 150 miles away in McGuire’s Settlement in Cambria County. Founded by Captain Michael McGuire, a Revolutionary War officer, the settlement was surrounded by wilderness, with the nearest neighbors some 20 miles away. When Demetrius Gallitzin, now Father Gallitzin, arrived in McGuire’s Settlement, he learned that Mrs. Burgoon wished to become a Catholic before she died. He assisted Mrs. Burgoon in achieving her wish.
At that same time, Father Gallitzin conceived the idea of forming a Catholic settlement in the area. He used his personal fortune to purchase land adjacent to McGuire’s Settlement and received permission from Bishop John Carroll to settle there permanently. Using pine trees from the surrounding forest, he constructed a log home and church. He financed the building of sawmills, tanneries, and gristmills, as well as homes for many of those moving into his parish, never receiving payment for many of these. He took in orphans and personally assisted the needy with his own money, or with produce from his farm’s crops. As his congregation grew, he tore down the log church and built a larger one that would serve the congregation until 1853. In the process he became known as the Pioneer Priest of the Alleghenies, and several years later he would name his Catholic colony Loretto, after the city of Loreto in Italy.
For 14 years Prince was known as Augustine Smith, even signing his legal papers and the parish records with that name. By now he was becoming the target of many who questioned his motives and attacked his honor. On more than one occasion he had been the victim of physical assaults. Fearing legal problems from his detractors, he approached the Pennsylvania legislature, requesting that all acts and purchases made under the name Augustine Smith be validated, and that he be permitted to resume the use of his given name. On December 16, 1809, his request was granted.
He never took a salary in the 41 years he served his pastorate, and for half that time he labored alone, with no other priest to assist him. He publicly defended the principles of his faith and continued his mission as the Catholic population of Loretto grew to nearly 4,000. Gallitzin accrued $150,000 in debt in the building of Loretto, a debt he intended to pay off with his inheritance. He was unaware, however, that the Russian government had disinherited him for becoming a priest. His sister and brother-in-law squandered whatever money was left, and in 1827 Father Gallitzin was forced to appeal to the public for donations. One of those who sent a $200 donation was Cardinal Cappellari, who would later become Pope Gregory XVI.
On May 6, 1840, Demetrius Gallitzin died. He was buried according to his wishes, at a point about halfway between his home and his church, which were only 30 feet apart. In 1847 his remains were disinterred and reburied closer to town. A monument made from blocks of mountain stone was used to mark the grave. In 1891 his remains were removed from the deteriorating wood coffin and placed into a more substantial metal casket. Eight years later the earlier stone monument was topped with a granite cap. On top of that a bronze statue of Prince Gallitzin was placed. The statue was donated by steel magnate Charles M. Schwab.
Johann Weismuller was born June 2, 1904 to ethnic Germans Peter Weismuller and Elizabeth (Kersch) Weismuller, in Freidorf, Austro-Hungarian Empire. This is part of Timisoara, Romania today. His baptism came just three days later at the St. Rochus Church in Friedorf, where his name was recorded as Janos Weissmuller. He also had a younger brother named Peter.
The family moved to the United States when Johann was only seven months old, arriving at Ellis Island on the SS Rotterdam on January 26, 1905, traveling steerage on the 12-day trip. They went to Chicago where they spent a brief amount of time with relatives, then moved to Windber. On November 5, 1905 Johnny was rebaptized as Peter Johann Weismuller at St. John Cantius Catholic Church in Windber. Five years later the family is shown in the 1910 census as living back in Chicago.
At age nine johnny contracted polio and took up swimming in an effort to strengthen his body. He became good enough to earn a spot on his YMCA swim team. He dropped out of Lane Technical College Prep High school to work at various odd jobs, including lifeguard. He was working as an elevator operator at the Illinois Athletic Club when he began training with coach William Bachrach. In 1921, at age 19, Weismuller won national championships in both the 50-yard and 220-yard distances. Now on the national radar, he applied for a passport so he could compete in the 1924 Paris Olympics. To be sure he was eligible for the USA team he showed his birthplace as Tanneryville, Cambria County, Pennsylvania.
In 1922 he set a new world record in the 100-meter freestyle, a record held by Duke Kahanamoku. He and Kahanamoku would meet again at the Paris Olympics in 1924, with Kahanamoku hoping to take back his record. Instead, Weismuller won again. In addition to winning the gold in the 100-meter freestyle, he also won gold medals in the 400-meter freestyle and as a member of the 4 x 200-meter relay team. Turning his attention to water polo, he won a bronze medal as part of the US team that same year. In the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics he won two more gold medals after setting another world record in 1927 in the 100-meter freestyle, a record that would stand for 17 years.
In his illustrious amateur career he never lost a race. Along the way he won five Olympic gold medals and one bronze, and 52 US national championships. He set 67 world records and was the first man to swim the 100-meter freestyle in less than a minute, and the 440-yard freestyle in less than five minutes. He set another world record at age 36 at the 1940 Billy Rose World’s Fair Aquacade but the record was not recognized because he was competing as a professional. He later moved to the Bel Air neighborhood in Los Angeles, where he commissioned the architect of his home to include a 300-foot serpentine poll that wrapped around the house. The home and pool still stand.
In 1929 he signed a contract with BVD to travel around the country and promote the company’s line of swimwear. He also began appearing in motion pictures, mostly in short subjects. His acting career really began when he signed a seven-year contract with MGM to play the role of Tarzan. He immediately became an international sensation. Weismuller starred as Tarzan in six movies for MGM, then for six more for RKO, earning more than $2,000,000 and becoming what movie historians consider the best Tarzan of the six actors who played the role.
After retiring as Tarzan Weismuller made 13 films as Jungle Jim for Columbia Pictures. He also played Jungle Jim in 26 television episodes for Screen Gems.
His athleticism was not limited to swimming, however. He was also an accomplished golfer and played in two official PGA Tour tournaments, missing the cut at the 1937 Canterbury Open and finishing 37th at the 1948 Hawaiian Open. missing the cut at the 1937 Canterbury Open and finishing 37th at the 1948 Hawaiian Open.
In 1950 Weismuller was selected as the greatest swimmer of the first half of the 20th century by the Associated Press. He became a businessman and retired in 1965, moving to Florida and becoming the funding chairman of the International Swimming Hall of Fame. Over the next several years he made a number of mostly forgettable films, appearing in his last one in 1976. His last public appearance came later that same year when he was inducted into the Body Building Hall of Fame.
Weismuller was married five times and had three children, as well as a stepdaughter. In 1974 Weismuller broke his hip and leg, resulting in a gradual deterioration in his health. He developed a serious heart condition, then had a series of strokes. On January 20, 1984 Johnny Weismuller passed away from pulmonary edema. He was buried in the Valley of Light Cemetery in Acapulco, where he had lived his final days. As his casket was being lowered into the ground, a recording of his famed Tarzan yell was played, at his request, followed by a 21-gun salute arranged by Senator Ted Kennedy and President Ronald Reagan.
Among his many honors was a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the George Eastman Award for distinguished contribution to the art of film. The Piscitine Molitor in Paris, an elaborate swimming complex and elegant hotel, was built in his honor.
In the 1930s James Stoughton, a farmer, artist, and lover of the theater, opened a small sandwich stand on the only road that ran between Johnstown and Somerset, Route PA-985, known better as the Somerset Pike. Times were tough and at times the shop floundered as the Great Depression caused business closures from coast to coast. But Stoughton persevered, and he somehow was able to keep his sandwich shop afloat. As the nation and the area began a painstakingly slow recovery, Stoughton explored ways to get more customers to his shop. After a lot of head-scratching and more than a little anxiety, he hit on an idea. Why not a theater? Not the kind that showed those moving pictures, but one with real live actors and actresses, like he had seen on Broadway. And the idea for the Mountain Playhouse was born. The sandwich shop would grow to become Green Gables, the popular restaurant that adjoins the theater.
To house his theater he found an old gristmill in the town of Roxbury in Somerset County that had been built around 1805 by a miller named Cronin. It had seen better days. Undaunted, Stoughton bought the gristmill, dismantled it, moved it log by log to his farm along the Somerset Pike, and rebuilt it. In 1939 it opened with the play “High Tor.”
As he was preparing for a second season, fire struck the old structure. Stoughton simply replaced the logs that were too damaged and was able to open for another season, albeit it a year later. Today, fire blackened logs can still be seen in the theater area.
When World War II broke out, Stoughton served in the army, but never stopped thinking about his theater. In 1946, following his discharge from the military, he reopened with the help of family members and never looked back. One of his early patrons was a not-yet-famous Jimmy Stewart, who attended a play with his mother.
Over the ensuing years the Mountain Playhouse has entertained theater goers by featuring well-known actors as well as those looking for their first big break. Local actors and actresses often fill important roles, and the theater attracts enthusiastic audiences for dramas, comedies, and musicals throughout each summer.
James Stoughton died in 1972 but his family carried on his legacy. His brother, Bob, constructed a mile-long lake on the property and developed the area around the scenic waterway. For many years the family operated Stoughton Lake Park on the lakefront.
Today the Mountain Playhouse is Pennsylvania’s oldest professional summer stock theater company, one of only 12 professional summer stock theaters still operating in the United States. With seating for nearly 400, it attracts not only local audiences, but also visitors from Pittsburgh, Washington, DC, New York, and other parts of the country. A snack bar provides a scenic lake-side atmosphere for pre-show and intermission relaxation, and an art gallery features the works of area artists.
To ensure that audiences are always treated to professional performances, cast members belong to the Actors’ Equity Association, and directors come from the Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers. Musicians are from the American Federation of Music.
Also on the property is Green Gables, a rustic but elegant restaurant set along lush lawns and stately trees. The restaurant is popular with pre-show dinner customers, and parts of it overlook a natural waterfall. It is often the site for weddings and receptions, class reunions, and tour groups.
The restaurant and theater have come a long way from the days of the old sandwich shop.
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Near the end of the 19th century the Cambria Country Club was organized. In 1920, land became available in what is now the West Hills of Johnstown, and a new club was formed. The members took on the name of Sunnehanna, said to be a Native American name for a local waterway, although I haven’t been able to determine what local stream or river that may have been. Prolific golf course architect Albert Warren Tillinghast, or Tillie as he was most commonly known, was selected to design a new golf course for the club. Tillinghast worked on more than 265 courses in his lifetime, including 26 in Pennsylvania, and although it was early in his career, he was already in great demand. He would be inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame in 2015, and every year since 2003 the Sunnehanna course has been named to the Top 100 Classic Golf Courses in America.
Beginning in 1936 and continuing through 1951 (except for the war years), Sunnehanna Country Club sponsored an invitational men’s golf tournament. Its reputation grew, and in 1949 an 18-year old kid from Latrobe named Arnold Palmer won the tournament. Palmer’s 1951 win, however, was destined to be the final year for the tournament. The country club’s Board of Governors decided to cancel future events, citing the uncontrolled gambling that was so prominent.
Two years later, however, the Board granted permission to the club to sponsor what has since become known as the Sunnehanna Amateur Tournament of Champions. It was the first country club sponsored 72-hole stroke play amateur event in the country. To boost interest in the new tournament, the club invited Don Cherry, a world class golfer and a member of the United States Walker Cup Team, to participate. In addition to being a pretty fair golfer, Cherry was well known as the fiancée of Miss America. He was also a lounge singer in Las Vegas, and the club agreed to allow him to sing as part of each evening’s entertainment. He played well enough to win that year’s inaugural tournament.
He returned to play the next year under the same sing/play agreement, but with a hit record to add to his resume; his “Band of Gold” had sold over 1,000,000 copies. He played well enough to win again, but his Walker Cup teammate, Hillman Robbins from Memphis, played even better. Robbins defeated his friend by one stroke, then went on to win the United States Amateur Championship. His win in that tournament gave credibility to the local event, and amateur golfers around the country began taking notice.
The next year Bill Campbell, of Huntingdon, West Virginia, contacted the country club and suggested that the tournament consider inviting a 26-year old amateur from Columbus, Ohio. The young man passed muster and was invited as a Committee Selection. The kid from Ohio played well enough to finish fifth and go on to have a long career on the PGA tour. His name was Jack Nicklaus, and many consider him to be the greatest player in the history of the game.
Over the years such luminaries in the golf world as Tiger Woods, Davis Love, Phil Mickelson, John Cook, Allen Doyle, Ben Crenshaw, Curtis Strange, Bobby Greenwood, and many others have played in the tourney. In 1968 Greenwood shot an 11 under par 269 to set the course record. That record withstood the attempts of more than 1,000 competitors to beat his score, until 1992. That year, Allen Doyle, from LaGrange, Georgia, not only beat the record, he obliterated it with a 14 under par performance. Doyle, who had won the event three previous times, was also a member of the Walker Cup Team. By winning for the fourth time, he also set a record for most wins in tournament history.
As the name implies, not everyone who wants to play in the tournament can do so. Entrants must have won a championship that is on an approved list, or finished at a high level in any of several other tournaments. Entry is by invitation only, assuring that the field will always be high quality. Those who have played in the tournament have gone on to great things at the professional level: 20 have been named PGA Player of the Year, 14 have been selected as PGA Rookie of the Year, 33 have won U.S. Amateur titles, and 38 have won a combined 89 majors, and 23 majors just since 2000.
Each year the tournament attracts competitors from around the world and is considered one of the best amateur golf events in the country. The tournament is held in such high regard that the winner is automatically invited to the United States Amateur Championship.
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Cambria County has been blessed with numerous military heroes. Today’s subject is Medal of Honor recipient John Shiel, whose last name has also appeared as Shields and Spiel.
Born in Scotland in May 1828, little is known about John Shiel until he earned his Medal. It isn’t known when he and his family came to the United States, nor is his place of residence known with any degree of certainty. Some sources say he lived in Philadelphia, while others say Cresson, here in Cambria County. Wherever he lived, his actions warrant mentioning him as one of our nation’s most heroic. He earned his Medal of Honor at the Battle of Fredericksburg, Virginia on December 13, 1862.
Shiel joined the 90th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry’s Company E on April 15, 1862 as a corporal. He would transfer to Company F of the 11th Pennsylvania on November 26, 1864. He was still a corporal when he earned his Medal of Honor, although he would eventually be promoted to sergeant. The 90th PVI was in the First Corps of Major General William B. Franklin’s Grand Division, serving in the 2nd Brigade (Colonel Peter Lyle commanding) of Brigadier General John Gibbon’s 2nd Division.
The fighting at Fredericksburg was a four-day battle, lasting from December 11 through December 15, 1862, and it proved to be a bloodbath for the Union army. Two of every three casualties were Union troops. The battle was later described as “a butchery.”
The Union army was under the command of Major General Ambrose E. Burnside and was up against Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. Burnside’s plan was to cross the Rappahannock River over portable pontoon bridges at Fredericksburg and move to Richmond before Lee could get into position to stop him. Those pontoons, however, were delayed, allowing Lee’s troops to get into a position where they could command the crossing points. By the time Burnside got his pontoon bridges into position, his troops came under heavy fire as they crossed and assaulted the Confederate troops in the town on the first two days of the battle.
On December 12, 1862 the 90th Pennsylvania crossed the river about two miles south of the town and soon were engaged with rebel skirmishers. They held their position overnight and on December 13 they moved through the morning fog to form up in the second line of attack against the right of the Confederate line, under General Stonewall Jackson. The troops on the right of the 90th PVI would assault the heavily fortified ridgeline known as Marye’s Heights.
Following a lengthy artillery duel, the fighting became heated. Soon, the 2nd Brigade, including the 90th PVI, was ordered to move forward to relieve the 3rd Brigade. When the 2nd Brigade ran out of ammunition it, in turn, was relieved by the 1st Brigade. As soon as the 2nd Brigade was able to reorganize, it was ordered forward again. The order was said to be “worse than madness.” With their ammunition already running low, the men of the 90th PVI were forced to scavenge ammunition from the cartridge boxes of the dead. Many of them made the charge with empty guns. It would be an unsuccessful assault, with the 90th Pennsylvania suffering heavy losses in killed, wounded and missing. The living were forced to use the dead as shields as they lay on the battlefield waiting until they could safely withdraw. Under the cover of darkness they were able to move to the extreme left of the Union line. They held that position all day on December 14 and 15 until they withdrew from the battlefield entirely during the night of December 15.
At some point during the assault, Shiel performed his act of heroism that would earn him the Medal of Honor. Seeing a wounded comrade, and knowing that anyone left behind would surely be captured, Shiel picked the man up and carried him to a place of safety as the bullets passed all around him. More than 34 years later he received word that he was to be awarded the Medal of Honor. His citation reads, ”The President of the United States of America, in the name of Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Corporal John Shiel (Shields), United States Army, for extraordinary heroism on 13 December 1862, while serving with Company E, 90th Pennsylvania Infantry. In action at Fredericksburg, Virginia, Corporal Shiel carried a dangerously wounded comrade into the Union lines, thereby preventing his capture by the enemy.”
Shiel died on June 11, 1908 and was buried as John Spiel in Greenmount Cemetery in Philadelphia. There is no record explaining why his name appeared in three different spellings.
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While the name Charles M. Schwab may not sound familiar today, it was his guidance that pushed Bethlehem Steel to become the second largest steel maker in the world. He was born in Williamsburg, Pennsylvania on February 18, 1862, the son of John Anthony and Pauline (Farabaugh) Schwab. All four of his grandparents were German immigrants. Schwab was raised in Loretto, and he considered Loretto his home town.
Schwab married Emma Eurana Dinkey on May 1, 1883 and began his career working for Andrew Carnegie at the Edgar Thomson Steel Works and Furnaces in Braddock. Through a series of promotions he became president of Carnegie Steel Company in 1897, at the age of only 35. Four years later he negotiated the sale of the company to a group of New York financiers led by J. P. Morgan and became the head of the company that would be formed from Carnegie’s former holdings: the United States Steel Corporation. He left U.S. Steel in 1903 to lead the Bethlehem Shipbuilding and Steel Company, growing it to become the largest independent steel producer in the world.
Schwab was ardently anti-union, and in 1910, when Bethlehem Steel employees went out on strike, Schwab brought in the Pennsylvania State Police. His move broke the strike and the employees returned to work. Bethlehem Steel would not have any union workers until several years after Schwab’s death.
In 1911, Bethlehem Steel formed a company soccer team. Schwab used his wealth to recruit “workers,” some from Scotland and England, who just happened to be outstanding soccer players. Within a few years he decided the team, Bethlehem Steel F. C. (F.C. being Football Club) was good enough to compete professionally. The team began competing in the National Association Foot Ball League in 1917 and would go on to win eight league championships, six American Cups, and five National Challenge Cups. It was considered one of the greatest teams in U.S. history. The team was disbanded when the Great Depression made it financially impractical to continue operating the team.
In 1918 Schwab became Director General of the Emergency Fleet Corporation at the personal request of President Woodrow Wilson. The corporation was a board granted by Congress to oversee all shipbuilding in the United States. After the U.S. got into World War I he was accused of profiteering, although he was eventually acquitted. Always controversial, however, he was referred to by Thomas Edison as the Master Hustler.
Over the years Schwab became very wealthy, moving to the upper west side of Manhattan, where he built an imposing 75-room mansion. The mansion, named Riverside, covered an entire city block. After his death it was offered to New York City for use as the official residence of the mayor, but the offer was turned down by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, who said the mansion was too grandiose for such a use. It was eventually torn down and replaced by apartments.
Schwab also owned a smaller 44-room summer home in Loretto called Immergrun, German for ‘Evergreen.’ The estate covered 1,000 acres and featured opulent gardens and a nine-hole golf course. It appears here in a postcard photo. When he wanted to build a larger house, he chose to slide the old one on rollers to a new location 200 feet away. It would become Mount Assisi Friary on the grounds of St. Francis University.
Schwab loved the high life, hosting lavish parties and becoming a high-stakes gambler. He attained status as an international celebrity when he literally broke the bank at Monte Carlo. He traveled in a magnificent $100,000 rail car that he named Loretto, and had numerous extramarital affairs. He loved spending money, and was famously quoted as saying, “I disagreed with Carnegie’s ideas on how to best distribute his wealth. I spent mine.” He was not boasting. It was estimated that he had spent as much as $40,000,000 (the equivalent of more than $600,000,000 in 2020) before the Great Depression hit. What was left of his fortune disappeared in the stock market crash of 1929, and he lived his last years in a small apartment. Unable to afford the taxes on Riverside, the New York mansion was seized by creditors. Schwab died on September 18, 1939 and was buried with his wife in a private mausoleum at Saint Michael’s Cemetery in Loretto (shown in an accompanying photo). He and his wife had no children, although he did have one daughter with one of his mistresses.
Despite his controversial nature, Schwab was highly respected as a businessman by both his peers and his competitors. He appeared on the covers of Time Magazine and Harper’s Weekly, and his management style was cited in Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” In 1928 he was awarded the Bessemer Gold Medal for his outstanding services to the steel industry. The British Institute of Fuel awarded him their Melchett Medal in 1932, and in 1982, some 43 years after his death, he was inducted into the Junior Achievement U.S. Business Hall of Fame. In honor of his lifelong work in the steel industry, he was inducted into the first class of the American Metal Market Steel Hall of Fame in 2011.
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4Veronica Varner, Art Martynuska and 2 others
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The year 1940 was not a good one for mine safety. An explosion in Pond Creek Pocahontas Company’s Number 1 mine in Bartley, West Virginia had claimed the lives of 91 miners only 10 days into the new year. Just three months later another explosion killed 72 men in Neffs, Ohio at the Willow Grove Number 10 mine. On July 15, the mine disasters hit closer to home, when a methane explosion at the Sonman ‘E’ mine in Portage took the lives of 63 miners.
An estimated 350 men were working in the mine that day. In late morning, the explosion closed off the north slope heading and entrapped 91 workers in the mine owned by the Sonman Shaft Coal Company. Calls went out to the Portage Volunteer Fire Company and mine rescue squads from Johnstown, Windber, and other areas of Cambria County. The first rescuers to arrive were frustrated by a rock fall, triggered by the explosion, that had blocked the slope entrance. State Police were summoned to control the crowd of family members of the miners that quickly gathered, and Red Cross officials sent trained first-aid responders to the scene. Bureau of Mines representatives were also summoned from Pittsburgh.
About three hours after the explosion, rescuers were elated to find 18 men, all alive. The finding raised hope of those on the surface and spurred other rescue teams to continue pushing deeper into the mine, where the blast was thought to have originated. One of those rescued said that rock was falling all around them as they ran for safety, and that they eventually had to drop to their knees, and then flat onto the ground, so they could breathe. None of the men suffered more than some minor burns.
Rescuers were hampered by the potential for additional explosions and had to proceed slowly. When the remaining 63 men were finally located it was apparent that none had survived. Thirty-four men had desperately sought shelter behind a makeshift barricade, and most appeared to have died of suffocation from afterdamp, a toxic mixture of gases which contain a high proportion of carbon monoxide. Seven more were found nearby. One of the victims had written a note, indicating that at least a few of them had still been alive as late as 6:00 pm. The rest of the victims were found in groups ranging in size from two to eight, indicating that all had survived the blast but died as they attempted to get out of the area. Many of the victims were found when rescue crews followed footprints in the dust. The last victim was discovered at about 8:30 the next morning.
Cambria County Sheriff C. W. Davis and 100 special deputies set up a temporary morgue at the Portage Municipal Building. To prevent potential outbursts of hysteria, the bodies were identified by mine officials and co-workers inside the mine prior to bringing them out. The last body removed from the mine was that of Thomas Shaw, a wireman.
An investigation headed by the Pennsylvania Department of Mines found that an arc or spark from a trolley locomotive working in the area had ignited explosive gas, with the flame rapidly following the remaining gas and dust that had been suspended in the air. The explosion had only affected a relatively small area of the mine but was made more deadly by the fact that water was not used to keep the dust down, and rock dust that would have further aided in preventing dust explosions was only used sparingly. The inquiry concluded that the disaster resulted from a failure of the system that should have been anticipated.
In 1960 a memorial to those killed in the disaster was moved from the United Mine Workers Hall to Chrichton-McCormick Park in Portage. A documentary film, “63 Men Down: The Story of the Sonman Mine Explosion,” was made and is shown at the Portage Station Museum.
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1Patricia Defibaugh
We usually think of the Amish as being extremely fine craftsmen, and rightly so. In the early 1800s a group of Pennsylvania Dutch Amish and Mennonite families settled just outside Johnstown in the Conemaugh Township area of northern Somerset County, where they quickly gained a reputation for their skills at making furniture and cabinetry. They also manufactured soap, a product that soon gave a name to the area where they lived: Soap Hollow.
Most of these craftsmen were German immigrants, and when the census was taken they listed their occupations as farmers, carpenters, or undertakers. Unable to work outside, the farmers became carpenters during the winter months and honed their skills when the snow started to fall. Undertakers, on the other hand, became skilled carpenters by virtue of the need to build caskets. So, even though the census often showed someone with a specific job, by default they often were also carpenters and cabinet makers.
At first, their carpentry was mostly for personal use, or for family members and friends. Gradually, however, when others saw the quality of their work, their products became more in demand, and the style of furniture they made grew to be called Soap Hollow Furniture, for the location where it was made.
Soap Hollow furniture generally was made between 1834 and 1928 and followed a distinctive style. On chests of drawers and stands, finely turned legs framed by curved feet were characteristics, as was the use of stenciling as part of the decoration. Chests and cupboards had a slight drop in the center of the skirts. Perhaps the most unique feature was the use of a wedge in every dovetail joint, to enhance rigidity and stability.
We often think of the Pennsylvania Dutch as being plain and simple, and their furniture was a reflection of that. Colors are often black, dark green, or a deep red, and if any stenciling is done, it is usually in gold. The maker of the piece also usually incorporated the date and his name or initials somewhere on the surface of his work. Soap Hollow Furniture is also characterized by bracketed feet, with thick skirting or backboards. If the piece required locking, keyholes were almost always diamond shaped. Over time, each craftsman settled on his own specific design, such as a star, heart, or some unique shape, which he would stencil on his work to show who made it. Because carpentry and cabinet-making was largely carried on from generation to generation, patterns varied little over time, and those who studied Soap Hollow Furniture became so familiar with these patterns that they could name the person, or at least the family, who built the piece, just by seeing the pattern.
It was always handmade, and eventually it was no longer economically feasible to continue making it. Factory-made furniture could be turned out in large numbers and meet the growing demand much easier and faster than could a few craftsmen who needed several days to build one piece. Because of its rarity today, coupled with a quality that allows the piece to be used for generations with no deterioration in condition, Soap Hollow Furniture is highly prized today by collectors, who are willing to pay thousands of dollars for even the smallest of items. Authentic Soap Hollow furniture was only made in this small local community and can not be duplicated.
The Soap Hollow style was copied in Michigan, Indiana, and Canada. Even furniture made in those areas, however, recognized the quality and importance of Soap Hollow and called their furniture Soap Hollow Furniture, even though it had not actually been made in Soap Hollow.
The name Sala often is seen on Soap Hollow furniture. John Sala was the most prolific of those making Soap Hollow Furniture, and he trained his sons and neighbors. He had such a unique style that his furniture was often called Sala Furniture before it became part of the Soap Hollow movement. Other craftsmen from Soap Hollow included John’s brother Joseph Sala, Christian Blauch (Blaugh), Jeremiah Stahl, Peter K. Thomas, and Tobias Livingstone, among others.
If you should happen to be fortunate enough to stumble onto a piece of Soap Hollow Furniture for sale, buy it (if you can afford it) for two good reasons: It is a great investment, and it is a part of local history.
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2Lindy Berkebile Yutzy and 1 other
If you’ve lived in Johnstown any length of time (say, maybe two hours or more) You may have heard about the love affair Johnstown has with hockey. If you haven’t, just mention it to someone and then stand back. There is no shortage of people here who will be happy to fill you in.
Our history with hockey goes back to the World War II era, when a team known as the Johnstown Blue Birds played in the old Shaffer Ice Palace for the 1941 and 1942 seasons of the Eastern Amateur Hockey League. The team folded and the Ice Palace was converted to a defense manufacturing facility after the 1942 season and hockey disappeared from Johnstown until 1950, when the Jets joined the Eastern Amateur Hockey League, playing in the new Cambria County War Memorial. The league proved to be a less than ideal location for the Jets, with instability seeming to be the league trademark. In the two-year period after the Johnstown Jets joined the league, Philadelphia and Washington folded due to poor attendance, with a team from Boston replacing the first Washington team in D.C. The New York team moved to Troy, New York when the team was bumped from many of its home dates in Madison Square Garden by the New York Knicks, and the Atlantic City team stopped operations when many of their games were bumped by conventions.
After the 1953 season the Jets moved to the International League and the Springfield Indians moved to the Quebec Hockey League, forcing the Eastern Amateur Hockey League to fold for lack of teams, when only three teams remained. While in the EAHL the Jets more than held their own, winning league championships in 1951-52 and 1952-53.
Johnstown remained in the International League until the 1955 season, a year after the old EAHL reorganized under its new name, the Eastern Hockey League. Transferring to the new EHL, the team remained in the league from 1955 until 1973. During that span the team won league playoff championships in 1959-60, 1960-61, and 1961-62, as well as the regular season division championship in 1963-64. It was this rough-and-tumble league that inspired the hit movie “Slapshot”, written by Nancy Dowd, whose brother Ned, played for the Jets. Most of the movie was filmed in Johnstown.
At the end of the 1972-73 season the league suspended operations, with most of the EHL teams moving to either the North American Hockey League or the Southern Hockey League. Johnstown opted for the NAHL, where it stayed through the end of the 1976-77 season. Along the way, Johnstown won the 1974-75 league championship.
In 1978 the Northeastern Hockey League was founded, and Johnstown, now a farm team of the Detroit Red Wings, was moved into this new league, taking on the nickname of the Wings. A year later the league changed its name to the Eastern Hockey League, which folded and reorganized as the Atlantic Coast Hockey League. Now playing as the Johnstown Red Wings, rather than just the Wings, the team folded after the 1979-80 season.
Johnstown was without professional hockey until the 1987 season, when it joined the All American Hockey League. The team was now known as the Chiefs, adopting the nickname of the fictional Charlestown Chiefs from the “Slapshot” movie. The league never really took hold, and Johnstown made the decision to leave the league, along with the Carolina Thunderbirds and the Virginia Lancers. These three teams added the Erie Panthers and the Knoxville Cherokees and formed the East Coast Hockey League for the 1988-89 season. The Greensboro (North Carolina) Monarchs, Hampton Roads (Virginia) Admirals, and the Nashville (Tennessee) Knights also joined in as founding members.
Johnstown played successfully in the ECHL until the team was relocated to Greenville, South Carolina at the end of the 2010 season. To satisfy the local thirst for hockey, the Wheeling Nailers of the ECHL agreed to play 10 of their games in Johnstown the next season. While it was only 10 games, it did bridge the gap until the 2012 season, when a new Johnstown team, the Tomahawks, joined the North American Hockey League. Primarily a midwestern league, the NAHL began its eastward expansion by placing a team in Johnstown. The success in Johnstown led to teams forming in six other cities in the east, and the Tomahawks remain one of the top teams in the NAHL.
Four Johnstown Jets players have had their numbers retired by the team: Reg Kent (Number 7), Galen Head (Number , Don Hall (Number 9), and Dick Roberge (Number 11). To put a little icing on the cake, Johnstown’s professional teams have sent 109 players to the National Hockey League, former Chiefs defenseman Brett Peterson was named the first Black Assistant General Manager (for the Florida Panthers) in NHL history, and at least three former local players, Doug Bennet, Chris Stewart, and Dana Heinze have become NHL trainers.
In addition, most local high schools have hockey teams, as well as UPJ and IUP. Numerous leagues provide learning opportunities for even younger players and girls teams, and those who are physically unable to skate can play on a sled hockey team. So there is something for everyone who wants to play hockey in Johnstown. If you’re just a spectator, you can come to the annual Slapshot Tournament, a competition between more than 25 teams from across the United States and Canada, and occasionally a team from Europe.
In May, 2015 Johnstown was named Hockeyville USA in nationwide voting. Sponsored by Kraft Foods, the award honors the top hockey community in the country, as chosen by popular vote. With the award came $150,000 for arena upgrades and a nationally televised pre-season game between the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Tampa Bay Lightning. Johnstown showed the nation why it was named Hockeyville by selling out the arena for not only the game, but also the morning practice skates by the two teams.
The Civil War was almost over. In three days General Robert E. Lee would send a message to Union General Ulysses S. Grant that he was now willing to surrender. The actual surrender would take place just three days after that, on April 12, 1865. The fighting and killing were almost over, and soldiers on both sides were ready to go home. It had been a long and bloody four years. Francis M. Cunningham had been fighting for most of those four years.
Francis Marion Cunningham had been born December 12, 1837 in Upper Turkeyfoot Township, Somerset County, the son of Robert and Sarah (Pinkerton) Cunningham. Or maybe it was December 31 instead of December 12. Nobody really remembered for sure. It wasn’t all that important. Francis was one of 11 children in the family, with five sisters and five brothers. One of those brothers, James Lawrence, had died as a prisoner of war just a few months before in the Confederate prison camp at Danville, Virginia.
Francis had been living near Ohiopyle, in Fayette County, when the Civil War began. When President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 volunteers to put down the rebellion, Francis and 66 other young men from Fayette County purchased horses and rode to what would eventually become West Virginia to enlist in Company H of the 1st Virginia Cavalry (Union). He had married Sarah J. Skinner just a week before leaving. His regiment would see a name change to the 1st West Virginia Cavalry when the northwestern portion of Virginia broke away from Virginia in 1863. As one of the first to enlist, he had fought in 71 battles and six skirmishes so far, including Gettysburg, Cedar Creek, Lynchburg, and the one just five days earlier at Five Forks, where the Union army had inflicted 1.000 casualties and taken 4,000 prisoners. Cunningham and his friends speculated that the Confederacy couldn’t hold out much longer.
The rebels may have been beaten down, but here they were again at Sailor’s Creek, in Virginia, facing yet another battle. Cunningham had already proven his mettle, and he didn’t want to get hurt now, not when the war was soon to be over. He had been an orderly sergeant at Gettysburg when he took over command of his company after all the officers had been killed. When his three-year enlistment was finished he signed up for another three-year term on December 23, 1863. He never even left the regiment, actually, so he still held command of Company H.
Now, the rebels were out there somewhere, probably not far away. There were some fortifications dug in just across the creek, in that thick underbrush. That’s probably where they were lurking, but there was no way to guess how many of them there were. The only way to tell for sure was to charge, and charge they did.
Almost immediately Cunningham’s horse was killed, throwing Cunningham to the ground. The Confederate ranks may have been depleted but there was still plenty of fight left in those who remained. The Union charge was repulsed, and men and horses alike floundered through the brush and interwoven vines, many of them falling for the final time. As Cunningham groped his way through the thick smoke, he blundered into a mule with a Confederate saddle on. He mounted his new ride and pushed back through the woods to rally his troops.
Just as he arrived the bugle sounded, calling for another charge. Cunningham spun his mule around and joined the rest of the troops and as he did so, he gained a new respect for mules. He said the mule outran the horses, bounded across the creek, and headed directly for the enemy breastworks. Along the way, Cunningham was wounded twice. Reaching the fortifications, the mule jumped over the mounds of dirt and logs, landing directly beside the color bearer for the 12th Virginia Infantry. A fight for his flag ensued, until Cunningham slashed at the man’s arm with his saber, forcing him to drop the colors. Cunningham immediately grabbed them before they touched the ground.
One of those who witnessed the action was Brevet Major-General George Armstrong Custer, who was so impressed that he immediately placed Cunningham on his staff and would later recommend him for the Medal of Honor. As part of Custer’s staff, Cunningham was by the general’s side a few days later at Lee’s surrender.
On May 3, 1865 Cunningham was awarded the Medal of Honor. His citation reads: “Capture of battle flag of 12th Virginia Infantry (CSA) in hand-to-hand combat while wounded.” The honor carried with it a $10 monthly pension. On July 8, 1865 Cunningham mustered out of the Union army and returned to Ohiopyle and became a minister in the Baptist church.
In early May, 1919 he was working around an old building when he stepped on a rusty spike. Blood poisoning and lockjaw developed, and he died May 11, 1919. He was buried in the Sugar Grove Cemetery in Ohiopyle. The funeral was said to be one of the largest held in that area in several years, with a number of Civil War veterans in attendance.
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4Veronica Varner, Lindy Berkebile Yutzy and 2 others
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Born July 11, 1956 to parents Charles M. and Dolores J. (Gresik) Cummings, Pat Cummings always was big for his age. He would grow to be 6’-9” tall and weigh 230 pounds. And unlike a lot of big kids, he wasn’t awkward, exhibiting the kind of fluid movements that had basketball coaches drooling with envy when they realized he would be playing for someone else. At Johnstown High School he scored 1,136 career points, leading the Trojans to two District Championships. The Trojans went undefeated in the regular season of his senior year and finished 23-1 before losing to Sharon in a state playoff game at the War Memorial. Not surprisingly, Cummings earned first- team All-State honors.
He received a scholarship to play at the University of Cincinnati, where he still holds the record for a single season field goal percentage, at .642 in his 1977-78 season. He averaged .581 for his career, second in school history. Among other outstanding achievements, he is second all-time in field goals (756). Only the great Oscar Robertson had more. His career total points (1,762) was also second to Robertson, although he has since slipped to sixth place. Cummings also has the fifth highest season scoring average (24.6 points/game). He played for the Bearcats from 1975-76 and 1977-79, missing the 1976-77 season after suffering a broken leg. Cummings averaged 17.1 points and 8.3 rebounds during his four seasons with the Bearcats. He was his team’s Most Valuable Player for the 1977-78 and 1978-79 seasons and earned All-Conference first team recognition in the Metro Conference those same two years. The Metro Conference named him the 1978-79 Conference Player of the Year, and he was selected to several All-American teams. In 1990 the university inducted him into its James P. Kelly UC Athletics Hall of Fame.
While he was still a junior in college, he was drafted in the third round by the NBA’s Milwaukee Bucks. He opted to remain at Cincinnati for his senior year before joining the Bucks the next season. He saw limited action in his four years with the Bucks, although he was productive when he did get into games. He shot over 50% from the floor and over 70% from the foul line, scoring 30 points against both the Denver Nuggets and again against the Cleveland Cavaliers.
In 1982 Cummings was traded to the Dallas Mavericks, where he became the starting center. His first year here he averaged 12.5 points and 8.2 rebounds per game. He scored 20 points or more in 10 games, then topped that the next season by doing it in 12 games. He became a free-agent at the end of the 1983-84 season and signed with the New York Knicks at just about the same time he was being inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
In his first year with the Knicks he had the best scoring average of his career, scoring at a 15.8 points per game clip. He also had his best single game, scoring 32 points against the Los Angeles Clippers, only to top that two nights later by scoring 34 points against the Phoenix Suns. The next year he averaged 15.7 points and 9.0 rebounds per game, with a high of 34 points against the Washington Bullets before injuries ended his season after only 31 games. He had surgery to remove bone spurs from his right ankle and returned to the team for two more years but never seemed to regain his form during that time. In 1988 he was released.
Convinced he could still play, Cummings signed a free agent contract in 1988 with the Miami Heat expansion team, where he was the starting center in the Heat’s first-ever game. He played sparingly, however, and was waived near the end of the 1989-90 season.
Unable to get a contract with an NBA team, Cummings played professionally in Italy in the 1990-91 season, latching on with the Utah Jazz near the end of the season for four games before being released for the last time. He finished his 12-year career with a 9.6 points per game average and a .421 field goal percentage.
After retiring from the NBA Cummings settled in the Cleveland suburb of Loveland, Ohio, where he earned his real estate license. On June 26, 2012 he suffered a heart attack and passed away at age 55 while visiting a friend in New York. His remains were returned to Johnstown, where he was interred in Mausoleum 4 in Grandview Cemetery.
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3Veronica Varner, Lindy Berkebile Yutzy and 1 other
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Thousands drive past the Hiram G. Andrews Center on Goucher Street in Upper Yoder every day, probably some of you who are reading this. Most of us know it’s a rehabilitation center, often referred to simply as The Rehab, but what really happens in that big building? Today we’ll take a look.
In 1956 ground was broken for a state-of-the-art rehabilitation facility in Upper Yoder. It would be one of only nine such centers in the country and it not only focused on physically rehabilitating individuals with disabilities from accidents or birth defects, but it also offered post-secondary education to aid its students in finding employment. Initially named the Pennsylvania Rehabilitation Center, the campus would grow to cover 45 acres, with 12 acres under one roof. When it opened three years later it was the first and largest vocational rehabilitation facility in the world specially designed to provide comprehensive vocational rehabilitation services under one roof.
Almost immediately it achieved recognition around the world and attracted visitors from a large number of countries. It served both dormitory students and commuters and is the only self-supporting government facility in Pennsylvania. It receives no money from the legislature but relies on tuitions paid by the students.
In 1979 the center underwent a name change, to honor the state speaker of the house, Hiram G. Andrews. Andrews had been born in 1876 in Illinois and had moved to Johnstown in 1901. At some point he left the area, then returned in 1928, serving as the editorial director for the old Johnstown Democrat newspaper. Andrews, who went by the nickname “Hi,” then served in the Pennsylvania House of Representatives from 1933 to 1936, then again from 1939 through 1940. He was elected to a third tenure in 1945 and served until 1962, for a total of 24 years. In recognition of his service to the people of Pennsylvania, and as a show of appreciation for his efforts in establishing the center, it officially became the Hiram G. Andrews Center. Andrews died in 1968 at age 91, but his name lives on in the form of this facility.
Today the center has about 350 students and offers 17 diploma programs as well as a number of support programs. Students come to the center from around the commonwealth and are referred by any one of several state agencies, such as the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation. Students from out of the area may live in off-campus housing or in one of the seven dormitories.
The center has received significant state, national, and international recognition and has been held up as a model for other facilities that offer similar services. It offers pre-employment transition, counseling, and support services, as well as post-secondary education through the Commonwealth Technical Institute (CTI), which is housed on the property. CTI offers six specialized associate degree programs and eight diploma programs.
A unique feature of CTI is that the students do not operate strictly in the classroom learning a trade and developing job skills, although that obviously must constitute a major portion of their time. Part of the curriculum calls for career evaluations and, for those who have the need, training in independent living to provide them with life skills for living, working, and making positive contributions to the communities where they live and work. Accountability, integrity, ethics, and maintaining high personal and professional standards are also emphasized.
We’ve all seen the Hiram G. Andrews Center, but maybe this discussion will provide you with a better idea of what a gem we have operating without fanfare in our community.
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3Patricia Defibaugh, Veronica Varner and 1 other
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John Stofa was born here in Johnstown on May 29, 1942 and lived in a part of Brownstown known as Misery Hill with his parents, John and Ann Stofa, and his two brothers and two sisters. He attended Bishop McCort High School, where he was an outstanding football and baseball player. After graduating from high school he attended the University of Buffalo, where he became the starting quarterback. He would go on to set passing and total yardage records at Buffalo.
In 1964 and 1965 Stofa played on a minor league football team in Daytona Beach. John signed a free-agent contract to play for the American Football League’s expansion team in Miami in 1966 and 1967. With the Dolphins he played eight games, starting two of them. He completed 31 passes in 59 attempts for the Dolphins, gaining 476 yards and four touchdowns. He finished up with the Dolphins in fine style, completing a 14-yard touchdown pass to Joe Auer in a 29-28 win over the Houston Oilers.
Stofa made history the next season after the Dolphins traded his contract to another expansion team, the Cincinnati Bengals. The Bengals made him their first selection, making him the very first player ever signed by the Bengals. His license plate showed his pride in being selected first. It read: 1ATBNGL. As most expansion teams do, the Bengals only went 3-11 that season, but John completed 85 passes in 177 attempts, for 896 yards and five touchdowns. He accomplished this while splitting playing time with two other quarterbacks: Dewey Warren and Sam Wyche. Among those five touchdowns was a 58-yard pass to tight end Bob Trumpy in the team’s second game, a 24-10 win over the Denver Broncos. Not only was it the first win in team history, Stofa’s pass was the first touchdown pass in team history, as well.
The next season, 1969, saw John placed on waivers in training camp, although the Bengals resigned him to their taxi squad. His old team, the Dolphins, decided they wanted him back and signed him off the waiver wire. Back in Miami, he served as backup quarterback for Bob Griese and Rick Norton in 1969 and completed 14 passes in 23 attempts. The next year, 1970, saw the Dolphins in the NFL after the NFL-AFL merger. Again playing behind Griese but with Norton gone, John threw for 240 yards and three touchdowns.
Stofa was traded to the Denver Broncos in 1971 but suffered a shoulder injury that prevented him from playing, and he was out of football during the 1972 and 1973 seasons. He got one last opportunity to play when the World Football League was organized in 1974. Signing with the Jacksonville Sharks, he served as backup quarterback to Reggie Oliver and Kay Stephenson and completed two passes in five attempts, for 24 yards and a touchdown. Unfortunately, the league folded after one season and John was out of football for the final time.
After football, John retired to private life with his wife Katie, daughter of Frank Oceak, the third base coach for the Pirates during their 1960 World Series-winning season. John joined Medical Mutual of Ohio, where he worked for several years. He also served on the board of directors for the University of Buffalo Blue and White Club, an organization that annually raised funds to provide scholarships.
In 1973 John was inducted into the University of Buffalo Athletic Hall of Fame. Two years later he received similar local honors, being inducted in 1975 into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame.
Thanks to my classmate and good friend, Joe Havrilla, for providing most of the information on his cousin, John Stofa’s, personal life.
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1Patricia Defibaugh
It was going to be a bleak Christmas, that one in 1889. The effects of the devastating flood that had struck the city just seven months earlier were still being felt, not to mention the anger that was now replacing the sorrow. Anger at the men who had allowed a dam at the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club to reach the condition that contributed to its failure, a failure that had taken the lives of more than 2,200 of their fellow citizens.
Those who survived were still trying to pick up the pieces, both physically and emotionally. Entire families had been wiped out, homes and businesses lost. The lucky survivors who still had their homes, those who were fortunate enough to live on the high ground, had taken in many survivors who had nothing. Other survivors found themselves cramped into an Oklahoma House, the tiny structures that were featured here in a post just a few days ago. Many found themselves living in tents, dreading the winter months that were just beginning. Of course, they weren’t really tents; they were scraps of mud stained linens and blankets – anything they could find in the rubble. Many others had cobbled together crude huts from the wood they had been able to pull from the debris that still, even seven months later, filled the city.
And so it was a welcome diversion for those who could afford to go to the Opera House on Main Street, itself a flood survivor. Standing three stories tall and only reopened a short time earlier, the hundreds in attendance were anxious to see how the theater had been cleaned up. Uncle Tom’s Cabin was the play, and it was supposed to provide some relief, even if only temporary, to those in the audience. But it wasn’t to be.
At some point during the play someone, nobody knows who or why, yelled “Fire!” Such a cry would strike fear into anyone, but it was especially scary for an audience whose nerves were still raw from what they had experienced, and in many cases were still experiencing, just a few months earlier. Terrified members of the audience screamed in panic and adopted an attitude of “Every man for himself.” Men who would be described as mild mannered under normal conditions pushed and shoved, forcing their way through the crowd to gain access to the single exit. They showed no regard for who they had to move out of the way, or of the means they had to employ to do it. Punches were thrown, women were knocked down, as the strongest of the crowd took advantage of the weak.
Those who couldn’t remain on their feet risked being trampled to death in the chaos, and a dozen were. Their bodies would not be recovered until nearly 2:00 am. By that time, 35 more found themselves badly injured, but thankful that they were still alive. Officials feared the casualty count would go even higher, since no search of the building had yet been undertaken.
A local fire engine that had been brought to the scene before it was realized that there really was no fire, was called on to use their fire hoses to force the crowds back from the doors so the dead and injured could be brought out.
The next day the names of the dead were posted. Crowds milled around the posters seeking information on the names of the unfortunate victims. Those closest to the information called out the names for those farther away: Clara Burns, Mrs. Nester, George Horner, Charles Fiant, Mrs. Lister, John Miller, A. Weiss, John Wyman, Richard Worthington, Isaac Tolar, John Carr, and an unidentified woman.
A national disaster had been followed up by a lesser, but nonetheless, just as painful, tragedy. “How much more could one city bear?” people wondered. The city eventually would recover, but it would be many years before those at the Opera House that chilly December night would forget the unidentified voice whose cry of “Fire!” had triggered the pandemonium.
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3Lindy Berkebile Yutzy and 2 others
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On May 31, 1889 the Day Express, a passenger train from Chicago via Pittsburgh, arrived at the Johnstown railroad station in two separate sections. There, both were held up because the eastbound tracks had washed out. While waiting, passengers got off the train to look at the debris that was piling up at the Stone Bridge, or to wave at local citizens hanging out of upper story windows. Finally, when a mail train came through, the Day Express was given clearance to follow it to East Conemaugh, using a westbound track to travel east. At East Conemaugh, the main yard for Johnstown, the trains were all held up once more. “Trouble up at Lilly”, they were told.
They weren’t there long until a telegraph message came to the yardmaster saying that the South Fork Dam was about to break, and those downstream should prepare for the worst. The yardmaster told those in the East Conemaugh station the news, bringing a chuckle from most of them. Those messages came in with regularity, and despite all those alarms, the dam was still there. Nobody showed concern. The yardmaster decided not to bother sending the message through.
Meanwhile, a work train sat along the tracks a short distance upstream. Warned that the track ahead was under water, the engineer and conductor walked ahead to see if they could safely go through. When it was obvious that they couldn’t, they returned to the East Conemaugh yard and ate lunch. As they ate, another message came through, reporting a landslide at the nearby Buttermilk Falls. The work crew immediately went there to clear the slide, and had been there only a few minutes when they heard it. Just a low rumble at first. Then, as it got louder, the crew could see trees bending over. The engineer, John Hess, knew immediately what was happening. He jumped into his engine, tied down the whistle, and began a hair-raising dash to warn those downstream. Only when the floodwaters overtook the train did he and his crew jump out and make their way to safety as the locomotive and cars disappeared beneath the raging torrent.
His heroism would become legendary and would be talked about and written about and for years to come.
Back on the Day Express, passengers passed the time sleeping, reading, and keeping their children occupied. Of course, there was also the usual grumbling about the delay. The yardmaster had the engineer move the train to another track to get it away from the rising water, and those who looked back saw other tracks fall into the water, but few appeared to be overly uneasy about the situation.
Then, those with the best hearing heard it. It was a low-pitched hum at first, barely discernible over the pounding rain. Then, a bit louder, loud enough for all to hear. If it was another train it may mean the tracks were now open. Hopes were raised until someone said that no train ever made a sound like that. Soon a conductor was seen running between the trains, yelling “Run for the hill. Run for the high ground.”
Most rushed for the doors. Women pinned up their skirts and stepped into the rising water, but several refused to step out into the driving rain and mud. Those who left the train encountered another train on the adjoining rack, blocking their way. Some crawled between cars, others ran to the rear of the train to go around. Panic began to set in. There was no mistaking what the noise was now. A ditch presented a new obstacle. The more agile were able to jump over it. One man didn’t jump far enough. As his wife watched in horror, he was quickly swept away by the shoulder-deep water. His body would not be found for nearly two weeks.
It wasn’t long before railroad cars broke loose, then the heavier locomotives, all swirling in the rushing current. Some had people on top, trying to get as far above the water as they could. Floating houses joined in the chaos, slamming into one another and tossing their occupants into the surging tidal wave. Some of those who weren’t fast enough were crushed when the railroad cars toppled onto them. The stereoscope view of the Day Express (attached with this post) immediately after the flood gives a graphic idea of the force of the water.
The fortunate ones who made it to the hillside looked back in disbelief. Nothing that they had just left was recognizable now. Nearby Maple Avenue was gone, now a mudflat. Some insisted it was the end of the world. For many, it was.
An exact number of dead would never be known, nor would anyone know exactly how many were from the Day Express. An official listing showed 21 Day Express passengers confirmed dead, including three children. However, hundreds of victims would remain missing forever, never accounted for. One of every three that were found would never be identified. How many of those were from the Day Express will never be known.
The inevitable lawsuits against the Pennsylvania Railroad followed. Lawsuits for negligence, lawsuits for lost luggage, lawsuits for injuries suffered. Only one lawsuit would be won. It was that of a Philadelphia company who sued for the loss of 10 barrels of whiskey that had been stolen from one of the freight cars while a conductor watched the looters.
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1Lindy Berkebile Yutzy
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Deep in the woods near the village of Pavia, in Bedford County, sits a small monument. It isn’t any place where you would just stumble across it. To see it requires a drive off Route 869 by way of a narrow dirt road, so those who see it are most likely looking for it in the first place. The monument is known as the Cox Monument, or the monument to the Lost Children of the Alleghenies. As the name suggests, the monument is accompanied by a tragic story.
It was a Spring morning in 1856, April 24, to be exact. Samuel Cox had just returned to his home in an area known as Spruce Hollow. On his arrival his wife, Susanna, told him that their sons, George (age 7) and Joseph (age 5) were missing. Cox had been hunting and Mrs. Cox feared that the boys had gone to catch up with their father and had become lost in the woods.
Samuel and his wife checked the area around their cabin and found nothing. Samuel retraced his steps to the area where he had been hunting, calling as he went, but there was no response. The day drew on until, at dusk, Samuel and his wife were becoming frantic. It was getting colder as the sun went down, and the boys didn’t have any food or water with them. Worse, the area was known to be inhabited by wolves and bears. Neighbors, hunters, and trappers who had also been searching all filtered into the cabin as they returned. Several searchers went to the surrounding ridge tops and built large fires, hoping the boys would see them and come to the fires. At one point, as many as 1,000 people were looking for the lost boys. None had seen or heard anything.
The search dragged on for several days, and soon rumors began to circulate that the Cox boys had been murdered by their parents. One man, Charlie Ross, even dug up the Cox garden and floorboards, searching for clues. His search turned up nothing.
Desperation took over. A man from Morrison’s Cove arrived with dousing rods to try to locate the missing boys. A Somerset County witch offered theories that did nothing more than cause the searchers to go on one wild goose chase after another. About 12 miles from the Cox cabin, Jacob Dibert dreamed that he had been searching in an area he didn’t recognize when he came across the remains of a deer. Passing the carcass he spotted a child’s shoe before coming to a small stream known as Bob’s Creek. Using a fallen beech tree as a bridge, in his dream he crossed the stream, where he found the bodies of the boys huddled together beneath the roots of an uprooted birch tree.
In the morning, Dibert told his wife about the dream. The two decided that it was nothing but a dream, but the dream returned several nights in a row. Finally, Mrs. Dibert suggested that Jacob go see her brother, Harrison Wysong, about it. When Dibert told Wysong his dream, Wysong said it sounded like an area that he was familiar with. On May 7, 1856, the two set out on yet another search.
Before long they came upon the remains of a deer, just as Dibert had dreamed. Then they spotted a shoe, followed by a fallen birch tree that extended across the creek, similar to the tree that Dibert had used to cross the stream in his dream. Following Dibert’s recollection from the dream, they crossed the stream. There, just as Jacob Dibert had dreamed, were the bodies of the boys. It had been two weeks since they were last seen, and they appeared to have died of exposure.
When word got out that the boys had been found, church bells tolled mournfully to alert everyone in the area. The next day, May 8, 1856, the boys were buried together in Mt. Union Cemetery. Reports indicate that, despite the short notice, several thousand people came to the funeral. It was said to be the largest funeral ever conducted in that area.
In 1906, 50 years after the boys had disappeared, the nearby community of Pavia raised funds for a marker to indicate where the boys had been found. It took four years, but they finally had enough money to complete the project. That marker stands today as mute testimony to the tragedy.
Truth or mountain lore? Obviously, nobody alive today has first-hand information that would shed light on the story. The facts that are indisputable, however, are that two young boys died and were buried in Mt. Union Cemetery. Most accounts of that era also include Dibert and Whysong. Did the dream lead them to the bodies? There is no way to support or refute that, so the choice is yours.
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7Patricia Defibaugh, Veronica Varner and 5 others
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A few days ago I posted about the Southern Alleghenies Museum of Art, recognizing it as a major contributor to the local arts scene. Today’s posting will discuss another local cultural treasure, the Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company.
The Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company, or the BOB as it is affectionately known, began in the early 1990s when husband and wife Brad and Laura Gordon were taking a casual walk through Stackhouse Park with their dogs. Taking a break in a natural amphitheater, the two relaxed and took in the scenery as they listened to the sound of the nearby rippling stream. As they sat there, it dawned on them that the setting was a perfect place to put on a play.
At approximately the same time, Laura received a grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities to study with the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford, England, as well as the famed Folger Library in Washington. On her return to Johnstown, she and Brad decided to follow through on their earlier vision, and they produced a Scottish play with the Penn Wood Players.
On the success of that endeavor, the Gordons decided to branch out on their own, and in 1991 they formed the Stackhouse Park Players. While there was an entertainment aspect to their efforts, they also wanted to educate both the performers and the audience in the nuances of classical theater. Since then, they have performed Shakespearean drama to thousands of satisfied spectators throughout western Pennsylvania. The name of the troupe became Band of Brothers Shakespeare Company in 2002.
While they center their performances in the natural beauty of the same amphitheater that spawned the Gordon’s idea, the BOB also produces performances in the months of the year when it isn’t feasible to perform in an outdoor setting. And they no longer go it alone, often collaborating with the Johnstown Concert Ballet, Out of His Mind Dance, UPJ, Penn Highlands Community College, and local high schools on various projects.
The BOB uses only local performers, and about 800 of them have graced the stage over the years. Some have gone on to perform professionally in movies and commercials. Another, who started with the BOB at the age of 12, went on to work for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. Some of the performers have been with the company almost from the very beginning.
The BOB has performed most of Shakespeare’s plays at one time or another over the years, including appropriate music to enhance the audience’s experience. The standards are high, and audiences will marvel at the abilities of the local talent. The Shakespeare Theater Association has recognized the troupe as one of the top 150 companies in the world, putting them on the same level as the world famous Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company.
The productions have been televised across the state through the Pennsylvania Cable Network, and you can take a look at previous plays on their website. Some of their productions are classic Shakespeare with a modern twist, a format that has proven very popular with local audiences.
If you’ve never been to one of the BOB’s productions of one of Shakespeare’s plays, you’re missing out. You don’t have to be a fan of the bard, or even like classical theater. Maybe you barely suffered through your high school classes, drawing on the CliffsNotes version, or even Classic Comics, to write your report. (By the way, your teacher knew you did that.) This group is nothing like you will remember from high school. Just bring a blanket or a lawn chair, your picnic basket, and an open mind to Stackhouse some pleasant summer evening and enjoy the park and the performance. The talent, the costumes, and the setting are enough to make you a believer, and who knows? You may even find that you like Shakespeare.
Peter Dennis Vuckovich was born October 27, 1952 to Serbian parents Lazo (Louie) and Bosiljka (Americanized to Betty) here in Johnstown. He was the only boy in the family of five children. At birth, Pete had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck but had no long-term effects from the potentially fatal condition. His brushes with death did not end there, however. He had appendicitis that led to peritonitis at the age of 18 months, followed by the removal of a benign tumor from his head just a year later. His childhood was relatively uneventful then, until he had to have emergency surgery for complications from his earlier appendicitis. At the age of 21, while driving at more than 100 miles per hour, he rolled his car several times over an 80-foot embankment, somehow coming out unscathed. Not long after, he cheated death once more when a 15,000-volt reactor he was working on shorted out. He later said he “would have been fried if he had been six inches closer.”
Pete attended schools in the Conemaugh Valley School District, and in high school he was an excellent athlete, playing football and baseball. He was good enough at football that he received a number of scholarship offers from major colleges, including Navy, Pitt, and Michigan State, among others. However, he turned them all down in favor of attending Clarion State College with a goal of becoming a teacher. His reason for attending Clarion? His girlfriend (and later his wife), Anna Kuzak, was going there.
Vuckovich played baseball at Clarion. A hard throwing right-handed pitcher, he also filled in at several other positions. It was as a pitcher, however, that he excelled, being named All-Conference in 1972, 1973, and 1974, playing in the Pennsylvania State Athletics Conference. He was named an NAIA All-American in 1974. He also played for Johnstown in the AAABA Tournament in four consecutive years, the first local player to achieve that status.
In 1974 he was selected in the third round of the major league draft by the Chicago White Sox, who sent him to play at Appleton, Wisconsin in the Class A Midwest League. Before the season was over, Vuckovich was promoted to Knoxville in the Class AA Southern League. The next season, 1975, he played at Denver in the AAA American Association, where he compiled an 11-4 record with a 4.34 earned run average.
In August, with less than two full seasons of minor league experience, he was called up to the major leagues to fill in for injured Terry Forster. He made his major league debut on August 3, 1975 at age 22 against the Minnesota Twins. He stuck with the major league team until the American Association’s championship series was about to begin. Vuckovich told White sox manager Chuck Tanner that he wanted to be sent back down to Denver so he could help them win the championship. The surprised Tanner agreed and sent him back to the minor leagues. When Denver lost the series in six games, Vuckovich was called back up to Chicago, appearing in two more games before the season ended.
Between the 1975 and 1976 season, Pete and Ana got married. They would have three sons, one of whom, Pete, Jr., was also drafted by the White Sox in 2004. Unfortunately, his career was cut short by injuries.
Over the winter of 1975-76 Vuckovich played winter ball for Ponce Leones in Puerto Rico. He returned to the White Sox for the 1976 season where, against his wishes, he was made a relief pitcher instead of a starter. At the end of that season the American League expanded to Seattle and Toronto, and Vuckovich was selected by Toronto in the expansion draft. He made the Toronto record book by recording the franchises first save and the first shutout two months later. In December, after only one season with Toronto, he was traded to St. Louis.
Over the next nine seasons he would play for St. Louis ans Milwaukee, having his best season with the Brewers in 1982, when he won 18 games and lost only 6, with a 3.34 earned run average. His season was capped off by winning the Cy Young Award as the American League’s best pitcher, getting 14 first place votes out of the 28 votes cast. He had come in fourth in the voting the year before.
Vuckovich gained a well-earned reputation for being a fun guy in the majors, as well as being a bit looney. He belly-flopped through puddles during rain delays and hung an “Out to Lunch” sign on his locker. He wore a Fu Manchu moustache and kept his hair unruly, and on the mound, he often crossed his eyes as he stared at his catcher for the sign for the next pitch. While holding a runner on base he would twitch his head rapidly as if fighting a violent tic, and he sometimes wore two different brands of shoes on the mound, with a Puma on one foot and an Adidas on the other. But what appeared to be eccentricity was actually all planned, knowing that the batter would be focused on his behavior rather than on what pitch was coming. He used it to his advantage.
The years of throwing 150 or more pitches in a game took a toll, however, and his last two or three years were marked by stints on injured reserve for rotator cuff surgery, shoulder bone spur surgery, and surgery to remove calcium deposits from his shoulder. Often he pitched while in pain, sometimes receiving a cortisone shot to reduce inflammation. His last game as a major league pitcher came on October 2, 1986 against the Detroit Tigers. The following season he retired at the end of spring training.
His 11-year major league record was 93-69 in 286 games pitched. He compiled a highly respectable lifetime earned run average of 3.44, with 186 saves. He appeared in four games in the 1981 and 1982 American League Championships Series, and in two more games in the 1982 World Series, where Milwaukee lost to St. Louis in seven games. Among his other accomplishments are finishing in the Top 10 twice in strikeouts, finishing seventh in 1979 and tenth in 1980; seventh in complete games in 1980, with seven; fourth in 1980 with three shutouts; sixth in the National League in 1978 with only 0.408 home runs per nine inning game and seventh in the American League with 0.563 home runs per nine innings.
In retirement he tended bar in Milwaukee for a while at a bar he owned. He did some color commentary for the Brewers, then spent several years with the Pirates in various roles, with one of those roles being pitching coach. In 2012 he took on the position of special assistant with Seattle, then became a scout for the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2015. He also became involved in community affairs, and one of his favorite jobs was as an actor in the film Major League, when he played Clu Haywood.
Vuckovich is a member of the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame, Clarion University Sports Hall of Fame, AAABA Hall of Fame, Western Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame, and the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame. In addition, Conemaugh Valley High School’s baseball field is named in his honor.
On December 15, 1943 Peter and Helen (Chupko) Duranko became the proud parents of a baby boy. That boy would join a family that included seven girls and two boys, in addition to the baby, who was named Peter Nicholas. Peter Nicholas Duranko, better known as Pete, and even better known as Diesel, was destined to become one more in a long line of professional athletes from Johnstown.
Pete attended Johnstown Catholic High School, now Bishop McCort, graduating in 1962. While in high school he was an outstanding football player. He was also a good shot putter, but it was on the gridiron that he earned his fame. That nickname, Diesel, came from his bruising running style, a style that got him named to the 1961 All-State team, a berth in the prestigious Big 33 game, and a scholarship to Notre Dame.
At Notre Dame, Duranko began as a backup fullback, gaining 93 yards on 26 attempts in 1963. He was moved to linebacker the next season, playing only one game before an injury sidelined him for the rest of the season. In 1965 he played at his third position in three years when he moved to the defensive line. There, he found his niche. In his first year as a defensive lineman Duranko registered 95 tackle, second on the team. Fourteen of those tackles came in one game, against North Carolina. The next year he added 73 more tackles to his total.
Diesel played in the famous “game of the century” in 1966, playing against Jeff Richardson from Michigan State. Richardson, who was featured not long ago on another post, was a Johnstown High School graduate and the two had already been opponents on the high school level. In that game, the Fighting Irish were ranked Number 1 in the country, with Michigan State Number 2. The game had a controversial ending when Notre Dame opted to run out the clock with the score tied at 10-10, when they only needed a field goal to win. Notre dame coach Ara Parseghian later defended the move, saying he didn’t want to risk a fumble or interception to get into field goal range because he knew a tie game would not hurt the Irish’s ranking. His strategy paid off as Notre Dame was named National Champion in several polls. Duranko was named an All-American by the Associated Press, United Press International, and the American Football Coaches Association, and played in the College All-Star Game in Chicago.
That same year he became a fourth round draft pick of the Cleveland Browns in the National Football League and a second round draft pick for the Denver Broncos in the American Football League. Cleveland was coming off an 11-3 season in 1965 while Denver had gone 4-10, and the NFL was the more prestigious league. Duranko surprised many when he decided to accept a contract with Denver. He would go on to play for Denver for nine seasons. Denver would become a member of the NFL in 1970, giving Duranko his chance to play in both leagues.
Following his playing career, Duranko attended St. Francis University, earning a Master’s Degree in Industrial Relations. He accepted a position as personnel director for ABEX and First Mississippi Steel Company in Hollsopple. He also served as an assistant coach for the old Johnstown Jackals, an indoor football team.
Over his career with the Broncos he played in 98 games on the defensive line, 76 of them as a starter. At that position he suffered countless blows to the head, in addition to those suffered in high school and college. Eventually those blows to the head took their toll, and in 2000 he was diagnosed with amyotropic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig Disease.
Choosing to fight the fatal disease the same way he went head to head with opposing linemen, Diesel became a national inspiration. News story after news story described how he was dealing with his illness, and his story became one of inspiration to others. Despite his own pain, and knowing he was dying, he made it his mission to speak to as many other terminally ill patients as possible. Those who knew him suffered with him.
On July 8, 2011, after fighting ALS for 11 years, Pete “Diesel” Duranko lost his battle, passing away while in the care of Windber Hospice. A post-mortem examination of his brain confirmed that he had Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), a progressive degenerative disease of the brain found in people with a history of repetitive brain trauma, such as professional football players. More than 100 former players in the NFL have been found to have been affected by CTE.
Duranko was laid to rest on July 13, 2011 in Mausoleum 4 at Grandview Cemetery. Before he died, however, he was honored with induction into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 1973 and the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame in 2006.
Over the past several months I’ve included posts about four major league players with roots in Johnstown: Tom Yewcic, Rip Collins, Ernie Oravetz, and Pete Vuckovich. Those posts made me wonder how many players Johnstown and the surrounding area have sent to the major leagues, and I was surprised to see that at least 30 major league players and one coach came from the Johnstown area. Some of these had impressive careers, but most played only one season, or maybe only a few games, fitting the proverbial “up for a cup of coffee” description. But they all made it, and they were officially major leaguers. How many of us can say that? Because of the number of players to make it to the major leagues, this will be presented in two separate posts. You may also enjoy some of the team nicknames.
The first one I could find was a player named Jones (first name unknown), who was born in Johnstown and played in 1884, just the 15th year for major league baseball. He played four games with the original Washington Nationals, getting five hits in 17 at bats for a .294 batting average. The next Johnstowner to make it to the majors was Ed ‘Jumbo’ Cartwright, who played in 1890 for the St. Louis Browns, then again from 1894 through 1897 with the Washington Senators. There is no record of where he was from 1891 to 1893, although he was probably in the minor leagues. He accumulated a lifetime batting average in the major leagues of .295, with 24 home runs.
Jack Darragh, of Ebensburg, played in 1891, beginning his career a year after Cartwright. Darragh only played one game with the Louisville Colonels, getting a single in two at bats. Frank West was the next Johnstown native to play, getting in one game with the Boston Beaneaters in 1894. He did not get a hit in his only at bat, but he did score a run. He was not walked or hit by a pitch, so he must have reached base on an error. Frank Gatins of Johnstown was the next to reach the big time, playing in 1894 with the Washington Senators and batting .224 in 17 games. Frank was out of the majors for the next two years, but returned in 1901 to play for the Brooklyn Superbas, raising his batting average to .228 in 50 games. The Superbas had previously been called the Bridegrooms and the Grooms before becoming the Superbas, and later became the Robins and the Trolley Dodgers. You may have guessed that this is the team known as the Dodgers today.
Alex Beam, from Johnstown, was the last local player to play in the major leagues in the 1800s, playing in two games for the Pittsburgh Alleghenys in 1889 and getting a double in six times at bat, for a .167 batting average. The Alleghenys became the Pirates in 1891. Hughie Tate was next. Born in Everett, Tate also played for the Washington Senators. He got into four games in 1905 and had four hits in 13 trips to the plate, for a .308 average. One of his hits was a triple. A neighbor of Tates, Sam Fletcher from nearby Bedford, played for the Superbas in 1909 as a pitcher. In that season he went 0-1 with an earned run average of 8.00. He also went 0 for 3 as a batter. Those numbers may explain why he didn’t stay in the major leagues, although he did return in 1912 with the Cincinnati Reds, playing two games with an 0-0 pitching record but batting 2 for 4 in those two games, for a .500 batting average. As some of you may know, the Reds were called the Redstockings until sometime in the 1890s.
In 1912 another area player, Berlin’s Frank Nicholson, pitched in two games with the Philadelphia Phillies, with no decisions and a 6.85 earned run average. He never got to bat, so he must have been a relief pitcher, with four innings to his credit. In those four innings he gave up 8 hits, including 1 home run. The tenth local player to make it to the majors was another player from Everett, Earl Howard. Howard pitched in one game with the St. Louis Cardinals, pitching 2 innings. He gave up no hits, had no strikeouts, and walked two batters. With no runs given up, he had an 0.00 earned run average. He never had a chance to show his hitting skills.
In 1921, Frank Brazill, from Spangler, played in 66 games for the Philadelphia Athletics, hitting .271. He returned the next year for 6 games, seeing his batting average drop to .077. For his 72 game career with the Athletics he accumulated 49 hits in 190 plate appearances, including 3 doubles and a triple, for a lifetime batting average of .258. John Churry was next. Born in Johnstown, Curry played in 6 games with the Chicago Cubs in 1924, 3 more in 1925, another 2 in 1926, and finally, 1 game in 1927. His lifetime batting average of .278 came from 5 hits in 18 at bats, one of those hits being a double.
James ‘Ripper Collins, aka ‘Rip’, was born in Altoona and raised in Nanty Glo. He was featured in an earlier post, so I am only going to summarize his career with the Cardinals, Cubs, and Pirates. Playing from 1931 to 1941, he compiled a lifetime batting average of .296, with 1,121 hits. Of those, 205 were doubles, 65 were triples, and 135 were home runs. He was named to the All-Star team in every league he ever played in. Windber’s Frank Trechock followed, making it to the Washington Senators in 1937. He went 2 for 4 in his only major league game, for a .500 lifetime batting average. Both hits were singles.
Bill Burgo from Johnstown and Charlie Metro from Nanty Glo both made it to the major leagues in 1943. Burgo played in a total of 44 games for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1943 and 1944, just missing the coveted .300 batting average that all players strive for. He had 47 hits in 158 at bats, for a .297 lifetime batting average. Among his 47 hits were six doubles, two triples, and two home runs. Metro played three seasons in the majors, with the Detroit Tigers (44 games in 1943 and 38 in 1944) and with the Athletics (24 games in 1944 and 65 in 1945). In his 171 games he batted 358 times, getting 69 hits, for a .193 batting average. Fifteen of his hits (ten doubles, two triples, and three home runs) were for extra bases.
Johnstown’s Mel Bosser also played in 1945, reaching the Cincinnati Reds at the age of 31. He appeared as a right handed pitcher in seven games and getting the win in two of them, with no charged loses. His 2-0 record included two starts and a respectable 3.38 earned run average in a total of 16 innings pitched. He only allowed nine hits but appeared to have some control problems, giving up 17 walks in his 16 innings. He had no hits in his four trips to the plate.
Today is the 105th anniversary of this tragic event.
The temperature was already starting to climb by mid-morning, August 12, 1916, as the Dishong-Riblett family gathered in Central Park. It was going to be a hot one, and they all looked forward to the reunion scheduled at Woodland Park, near Ebensburg. Others had gathered for the Burkhart Sunday School picnic at Mundy’s Corner. Maybe it would be cooler at those places. Every so often someone would crane his or her neck to see if the Electric Pullman car was coming. The Southern Cambria Railway officials said they would be adding an extra car today to accommodate the expected crowd, so there should be plenty of room for everyone.
Some sat on park benches, others on the picnic baskets that carried the meals they would consume later in the day. Many had never ridden on the railway line between Johnstown and Ebensburg, completed four years earlier. They looked forward to the ride as much as they anticipated the camaraderie.
Soon, Car 104 appeared, looking much like today’s trollies, resplendent in its Pullman green paint highlighted by gold lettering and brass trim. The crowd filed on, greeted by motorman Taylor Thomas and conductor George Morgart. Those who had never ridden the line gaped in astonishment. “This must be how the other half lives,” many commented. Mahogany interior, electric ceiling lights, bronze racks for the picnic baskets … all the trimmings.
After passing the Gautier wireworks on Railroad Street the car made a turn and began the uphill climb to Ebensburg. Through Woodvale, then Conemaugh, Brookdale, and the big trestle across the Conemaugh River. Here the terrain began to roll, with Car 104 chugging uphill for a while, then braking as it went downhill, but not slowing so much that the momentum for the next hill would be lost. At the Brookdale siding, where all the line’s cars came together to allow passengers to transfer to either Ebensburg, South Fork, or Johnstown, tragedy waited.
Meanwhile, Car 102, with motorman Angus Varner and conductor Andrew McDevitt, had just left the Vinco Road stop on its way south from Ebensburg to Johnstown. Between Vinco Road and Brookdale, Car 102 began to experience braking problems. McDevitt joined Varner to assist in cranking up the hand brake, but their combined effort snapped something in the ratchet mechanism. Instead of slowing, the car’s speed increased as it began to careen downhill, now out of control.
McDevitt began moving passengers to the rear of the car while Varner desperately tried to reverse the car’s motors. The move temporarily helped slow the car, but then the main fuse blew from the strain, allowing the car to resume its downhill dash. Entering the Brookdale siding, Varner tried to sound the car’s air whistle as a warning, but all the air had bled out of the brake line and no sound could be heard from the whistle. Varner frantically waved his arms as those waiting to board the next cars gazed and wondered what was happening. An employee named Nichols raced to the powerhouse to shut off the power to the overhead line, but even the fastest runner in the world would not have had time to accomplish that.
Just below the Brookdale carbarn, Car 102 slammed violently into Car 104 at an estimated speed of 35-40 miles per hour, with the impact area of each car exploding into wooden shrapnel. Picnic baskets, those fancy new seats, and passengers were thrown in all directions. Bodies were crushed, limbs were amputated, and screams punctuated the air.
Residents of the small nearby village of Echo had heard the crash and raced to the scene. Employees from the carbarn and powerhouse, as well as passengers waiting for other cars, did likewise. Calls went out through local telephone operators as rescuers feverishly tried to pull the injured from the wreckage as the smashed cars dangled above the Conemaugh River. The oppressive heat of the day made the job all that more difficult.
Already on the siding, Car 103 and express Car 301, along with horseless carriages and delivery wagons, were used to haul the injured to a triage site hastily set up at the American House, a local hotel near the Gautier mill. Doctors and nurses sent the injured to various hospitals, depending on the severity of their injuries.
Twenty-eight were killed that day, including motorman Varner from Car 102, the only fatality on that car. On Car 104, conductor Morgart survived, but motorman Thomas did not. On Car 102, Conductor McDevitt was credited with saving the lives of the passengers by moving them all to the car’s rear before the impact. About 80 from the two cars were badly injured.
For the next several weeks, newspapers around the country carried stories from the scene. Burials were conducted daily, with 10 members of the Dishong family buried at the same time at one funeral. Cars 102 and 104 were rebuilt, but horseless carriages were replacing the need for interurban railways, and manufacturing of new cars ended just a few years later.
The Southern Cambria Railway, with one of the worst safety records in the industry, became known as the “Dread of the Timid Traveler.” They continued to operate for 12 more years before closing abruptly and without notice in 1928, just weeks before a bond payment came due for reimbursement to the accident victims.
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Sailors from Johnstown were at Pearl Harbor on the day the infamous Japanese attack took place. Pilot Buzz Wagner was America’s first ace of World War II. Michael Strank was one of the flag raisers on Iwo Jima. Joseph J. Moran became a hero when he stayed at his radio to send out SOS radio messages when the USS Indianapolis was sunk. Edward Silk and John Joseph Tominac were awarded Medals of Honor. All these local men did more than was expected of them during World War II. They’ve all been featured here at one time or another over the past few months. But what about the folks who remained behind? What did Johnstowners do during WW II? Did we have Rosie the Riveters? Was Johnstown ever in danger of attack? Over the next three days we’ll be looking at these and other questions about how the Johnstown area responded after Pearl Harbor was attacked.
Johnstown has always been tough. Gritty, some might say. The fact that we’re still here after all those floods and other disasters proves that. And we may have been at our best in the four years between 1941 and 1945. When word came that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor, there were very few families in Johnstown who didn’t gather around a radio to hear President Franklin D. Roosevelt declare December 7, 1941 “ … a day that will live in infamy.” When the call went out, recruiting stations across the country were swamped with patriotic Americans wanting to enlist. Johnstown was no different. Lines built up almost immediately, and some 4,400 left their homes and families to fight for freedom. Unfortunately, 863 of those Cambria Countians would not return.
One of those heroes, as noted in the opening paragraph, was Boyd “Buzz” Wagner, a subject of an earlier post. Lt. Col. Wagner had become the first air ace of World War II after shooting down eight Japanese planes. The local boy was a national hero. On November 29, 1942 however, local citizens were shocked to hear that Wagner had been killed during a training flight in Florida. It would take six weeks to find Wagner’s remains in a farm field and, when he was buried in Grandview Cemetery in January, 1943, an estimated 20,000 people came to his funeral.
As the men enlisted, gaping holes developed in the workforce. The local fire and police departments experienced manpower shortages, and even garbage collection was affected. But work needed to be done, and someone had to do it. J. Howard Miller, an artist from Pittsburgh, created a design that became the symbol for a recruiting campaign to bring women in to fill those gaps. That symbol, Rosie the Riveter, is still highly recognized today. A poster was developed showing a fictional Rosie, wearing a bandanna and flexing her bicep as part of the recruiting campaign, and she became one of the most successful recruitment tools in American history. She was the indisputable symbol of working women during the war.
Women who had never swung a hammer signed up to work in defense plants, both locally and nationwide. They welded. They cut out metal patterns. They assembled parts. And yes, they riveted. It wasn’t something they did to fill the time. It was a necessity. Women across the country, and in Johnstown, responded in droves. Between 1940 and 1945 the percentage of women in the workforce grew from 27% to nearly 37%, and by 1945 nearly one of every four married women worked outside the home. The percentage of unmarried women was even higher. Similar percentages applied to Johnstown.
In November, 2020, Congress passed the Rosie the Riveter Congressional Gold Medal Act that awarded the Congressional Gold Medal to the women “ … who joined the workforce in World War II to provide the aircraft, vehicles, weaponry, ammunition, and other materials to win the war.” It is well deserved and long overdue.
Women here and around the country did more than work in defense plants, however. By 1945 there were more than 100,000 enlistees in the Women’s Army Corps (WACs). Building on the success of the WACs, the Navy established the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) to serve as the female version of the naval reserve and provide stateside support. A line of women was reported at the local navy recruiting office in August 1942 to join the WAVES. The Coast Guard and Marines soon followed, with more than 100 women in line when the local Marine Corps office opened. More than 1,000 women signed up to be WASPs, or Women’s Airforce Service Pilots, becoming the first women to fly American military aircraft. Johnstown women were represented in all of these units.
As would be expected in a time of war, nurses also played a vital role, and the nurses of Johnstown did their part. So many signed up for the Army Nurse Corps that it created a local shortage for a while in early 1942. Some paid the ultimate price for their patriotism. At least one local woman was on board a hospital ship when Nazi bombers sank it near Italy. She was one of the lucky ones who survived.
Tomorrow: Johnstown and WW II – Part 2: air raid drills, planting victory gardens, donating scrap, and rationing
Photo credits: Nurses – American Red Cross; Rosie the Riveter photo – Library of Congress; Nurse poster – National WW II Museum; Uncle Sam poster – US Defense Dept.
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The year was 1932. The Stock Market crash of 1929 was still being felt in the form of the Great Depression. Unemployment was up, jobs were scarce, and the country was in a tailspin. It was no different in Johnstown, where unemployment hovered around 25%.
By any measure, it was a lousy time to start a business. On the other hand, the hallmark of every entrepreneur is the lack of fear of taking a chance. Why not? What is there to lose?
That was exactly the way Eugene and Bernie George felt. There weren’t any jobs around anyway, so why not create our own, was their thought. Sure, there was some anxiety. They were human, after all. Starting a business is a risk in the best of times. Doing it in the midst of the worst depression in American history … well, they preferred not to think about that.
Both brothers, but especially Bernie, loved music. Big Band music was popular, but with the Depression, who could afford to go see them? Going to see Artie Shaw, Duke Ellington, Paul Whiteman, or Glenn Miller? Not a chance. Just a few years earlier, though, Western Electric had come up with a way to produce a smoother, more natural way to play electrically recorded discs. Records, when played on this new system, no longer sounded so scratchy and tinny. Why not sell recordings, especially those of the Big Bands? After all, the Depression wouldn’t last forever, and it would give people a chance to listen to the music they loved but couldn’t afford to go see and hear in person. They opened their business on the first floor of the Glosser Brothers Department Store. Today that business is known as George’s Song Shop, selling music and records.
And to the surprise of the naysayers, the business succeeded. No, it didn’t flourish. Not at first, anyway. And then there was the matter of the 1936 flood. Undaunted, the brothers just moved the business to Locust Street, not exactly out of the flood zone. They would move it again in 1938, this time to Franklin Street.
While at the Franklin Street location, Bernie got the urge to pursue a career in music. Not selling records, but actually performing. He sold his share of the business to Eugene and moved to New York, leaving Eugene as the sole proprietor. Eugene operated the shop until 1962, when tragedy struck. On his way into work one morning, Eugene suffered a stroke. He would not survive. It fell upon his 19-year old son, John, to keep the business going.
John relocated the business once again in 1970, moving it to Main Street. After the 1977 flood, John was determined to reopen, albeit in a different location, just a block or two away on Market Street.
John still operates the business, billed as America’s Oldest Record Store. With more than 1,000,000 vinyl records (45s), more than 70,000 LPs, and 20,000 CDs, it may also be one of the largest independent stores. George’s also has 8-track tapes and cassettes. His inventory covers nearly every musical genre, and the store caters to customers from across the country. For many, they have been searching for a specific almost-impossible-to-find record or album. More often than not, they find it at George’s Song Shop, leading to George’s slogan: If We Don’t Have It, Nobody Does.
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Some readers may recall that, in an earlier post I discussed the Shade Creek Furnace. The Shade Creek Furnace was an old ironmaking furnace that was located near Central City and was in use from 1808 to 1858. Unfortunately, the furnace is now in ruins, and can only be visualized by referring to old photos.
However, a similar furnace remains relatively intact near Vintondale, near the mid-point of the Ghost Town Trail. Known as the Eliza Furnace, it is considered one of the best preserved hot blast furnaces which still has its original heat exchanger piping. It was one of three furnaces constructed in the Blacklick Valley.
Two partners, David Ritter and George Rodgers, purchased several thousand acres of land in the Blacklick Valley during the 1830s and 1840s. Ritter and Rodgers chose to place their furnace near the forks of the North and South branches of Blacklick Creek. In 1845 construction was started, but before it was completed Rodgers sold his share to a Centre County farmer named Lot Irvin. The stonework was done by stone mason Thomas Deveraux and two Irish immigrants, John and William Gillin. The furnace was completed in 1846 and became known as Ritter’s Furnace. The stones are so intricately fitted that no mortar was used to hold the furnace together.
A water wheel drove bellows which pushed “blasts” of air across the heat exchangers, which were heated by exhaust gases from burning charcoal in the furnace. The heated air was piped down the side of the furnace stack and forced into the hearth. This process was very inefficient, heating the air by only about 10o to 15o. This inefficiency would eventually contribute to the furnace’s demise.
The Eliza Furnace shipped about 1,000 tons of crude iron every year to the steel mills in Pittsburgh. To produce this iron, a force of 90 men and boys was required, along with about 45 horses and mules. The operation covered 231 acres of the vast property owned by Ritter and Irvin, and it included a casting house, stove house, 21 log homes, a wagon shop, smoke house, stable, sawmill, boarding house, and store. To keep costs down, Ritter and Irvin often paid their employees in goods or services, rather than cash.
Product from the furnace was hauled by wagon to Ninevah (modern day Seward), near Johnstown, where it was loaded on canal boats for shipment to Pittsburgh. The furnace never really was profitable, and Ritter ran into personal financial difficulty. His problems came to a head when his former partner, George Rodgers, sued him for $350 for Ritter’s failure to pay past due debts. Unable to come up with the money, Ritter had to forfeit property in Armagh as payment.
In July 1848, the furnace operation was seized and sold at sheriff’s sale to Soloman Alter and Joseph Replier of Philadelphia, who also found it unprofitable. A combination of high shipping costs, poor ore quality, and a reduction in demand in the late 1840s spelled the end for the Eliza Furnace, and when the Pennsylvania Railroad chose to go through the Conemaugh Valley rather than through the Blacklick Valley, its fate was sealed. The Eliza Furnace ceased operation in 1849, just three years after it began.
Today the furnace, which is fairly well preserved and easy to access, is owned by the Cambria County Historical Society and leased to Indiana County Parks. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
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If you lived in Johnstown at any time prior to 1993 you shopped at Glosser Brothers or one of its Gee Bee discount stores. That isn’t an opinion. It’s a fact. I will be surprised if anyone who lived here before the company went out of business responds with “I never did.” Glosser’s was a Johnstown institution for nearly 90 years. Everyone went there for something.
The company traced its beginning to 1906 when Louis and Nathan Glosser borrowed $200 from Morris Miller, owner of Miller’s Clothing Store, and bought out Jacob Fisher, who owned a menswear shop in the Franklin Building at the corner of Franklin and Locust streets. The Glossers then opened a small one-room tailor shop. The brothers had emigrated to Johnstown as refugees from Belarus, fleeing the persecution of Jews by the Czarist regime.
In 1909 they expanded into an adjacent room, and within 10 years the little one-room store had grown to include the entire first floor of the building. It was now a full-service upscale department store, specializing in men’s and women’s clothing, housewares, and groceries. In 1926 the Glosser’s purchased the entire building and expanded further.
Glosser’s became a major competitor of Penn Traffic, and both stores flourished. A trip downtown for anything, even if shopping wasn’t the main purpose, usually included a stop in one or both stores. Those going into Glosser’s were treated with an aroma that was its own unique blend of odors of leather, popcorn, peanuts, and confections. That blend has never been duplicated locally since the store closed, and we are all the poorer for that. The popcorn and peanut machines, particularly, had to work overtime to keep up with the demands of those who just wanted to take some across Locust Street to feed the Central Park pigeons.
The company grew, and in the 1960s they added a discount store branch known as Gee Bee’s. With the success of Gee Bee’s, about 10 years later the company opened a scaled down version of Gee Bee’s called Gee Bee, Jr., selling discount clothing and accessories. Some of the larger locations also included a supermarket, although that was usually in a separate building.
The chain continued to grow, and at its peak had 24 department stores, 18 supermarkets, and 44 discount stores. It operated in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia, and Maryland. However, the proliferation of discount stores cut deeply into the company’s sales. Finally, in 1989, Glosser Brothers declared bankruptcy. The grocery division closed and was sold to other grocery chains. These drastic moves helped for a while, and in 1991 the company emerged from bankruptcy, at which time it was put up for sale.
In May, 1992 the company was purchased by Value City, which converted many of the Gee Bee stores to Value City stores. The last Gee Bee store to close was the one in the Westwood Plaza.
The main store downtown underwent renovations in the 1990s and was converted to a mix of offices, restaurants, and retail. It was included in the downtown historic district when downtown was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1992.
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Actress Carroll Baker was born in Johnstown on May 28, 1931 to parents William W. and Elizabeth G. (Duffy) Baker. The family was poor, a situation that deteriorated further when William and Elizabeth separated when Carroll was 8 years old. After the separation, Elizbeth moved to Turtle Creek with Carroll and her younger sister Virginia.
Carroll graduated from Greensburg Salem High School, where she got her first acting experience performing in high school musicals. Following graduation, she and her family moved to St. Petersburg, Florida, where she attended St. Petersburg College, which was known as St. Petersburg Junior College at that time. After one year of college, she took a job on the vaudeville circuit, working as a magician’s assistant and a dancer. In 1949, she won the Miss Florida Fruits and Vegetables competition.
In 1951 she moved to New York, renting an apartment with a dirt floor in Queens. In New York she got a job as a nightclub dancer and also had stints as a chorus girl in various traveling vaudeville shows. The next year she enrolled in the Actors Studio, studying acting under Lee Strasberg in a class that included such future stars as Mike Nichols, James Dean, Rod Steiger, Shelley Winters, and Marilyn Monroe. To make ends meet, she appeared in television commercials for Winston cigarettes and Coca-Cola. She got her first real acting job when she was featured in an episode of Monodrama Theater on the DuMont network in 1952.
It was the following year that she made her film debut, getting a small walk-on part in the musical Easy to Love. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her roles in two Broadway productions: Escapade in the fall of 1953 and All Summer Long, opposite Ed Begley, in 1954. She came close to being cast in two lead roles in 1955 that could have made her a household name sooner. She auditioned for the lead in Picnic but lost out to Kim Novak. Her friend, James Dean, recommended her for the female lead in Rebel Without a Cause, a role she eventually turned down.
For the next year she turned down all leading roles when they were offered. When asked why, she noted that she was very insecure and preferred supporting roles until she gained enough confidence. She got that supporting role when she was cast as Luz Benedict II in the hit film, Giant, opposite Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean in his final role. It was her first major film role. While filming Giant, she was cast as the title character in Elia Kazan’s Baby Doll, a role that had been originally meant for Marilyn Monroe. The role brought her immediate fame. She gained a level of notoriety when she was shown scantily dressed in a 135 foot tall billboard on Times Square to promote the movie. The advertising campaign caused a backlash from religious groups, and Cardinal Francis Spellman publicly denounced the film and advised his parish against seeing it. The National Legion of Decency also condemned it.
When the film opened it exceeded financial predictions, boosted in part by an appearance from Marilyn Monroe in support of Baker. At the film’s premiere, Monroe worked as an usherette to bolster ticket sales, which all went to the Actor’s Studio. Despite the negative publicity, Baker received excellent reviews from such prestigious sources as the New York Times and Variety. She was now considered an A-list celebrity. She won a Golden Globe Award for Most Promising Newcomer and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress, as well as a second Golden Globe, also for Best Actress. Look Magazine presented her with a Film Achievement Award, and she was named Woman of the Year by Harvard’s Hasty Pudding Club. She also appeared on the cover of Life Magazine that summer.
Following the success of Baby Doll, she was offered parts in several movies, but when she turned down a role in Too Much, Too Soon, Warner Bothers suspended her, preventing her from accepting other roles. MGM then offered her the lead role in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and 20th Century Fox wanted her for The Three Faces of Eve. Her Warner Brother contract prevented her from accepting either, and both became hits, leading to tension between her and Warner Brothers. She did not act again until the studio lifted her suspension later in 1958. She eventually bought out her contract with the company, putting her deeply into debt.
Now independent, she took roles in several movies, one of which, Bridge to the Sun, was so well received by the critics that it became America’s entry at the Venice International Film Festival. More roles followed, including the blockbuster How the West Was Won, with Gregory Peck, Debbie Reynolds, and Karl Malden. Now a full-fledged celebrity, she learned how quickly rumors become accepted as fact, when she was said to be having an affair with co-star Robert Mitchum. An even more interesting story came later, when it was rumored that a Maasai chief in Kenya offered 150 cows, 200 goats, sheep, and $750 for her hand in marriage.
Much in demand now as a leading actress, she had her choice of roles and was able to make several movies a year. She also appeared in Playboy Magazine, graced the cover of the Saturday Evening Post, became the official spokesperson for Foster Grant sunglasses, and received $1,000,000 compensation in a lawsuit she filed against producer Joe Levine. She also returned to acting in theater productions, and began acting in European movies when she was blacklisted for having sued Levine. She returned to making American films in 1976.
In 1983 she published her autobiography, titled Baby Doll: An Autobiography. In 2011 she was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award at the Hoboken Film Festival, followed by an identical award in 2012 from the Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival. Over her career she starred in scores of movies that grossed hundreds of millions of dollars. She has also appeared in some of television’s top shows, received countless awards and honors, got a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and enjoyed international fame. Along the way, the girl who grew up in poverty became a millionaire.
In or around the year 1800 Joseph Johns laid out his master plan for Conemaugh Old Town, destined to become better known as Johnstown. At the point where the Little Conemaugh and the Stonycreek Rivers met he pondered what its use should be, then decided that it should remain a place for “ … common and public amusements for the use of the said town and its future inhabitants forever.” In plain language, no development. No housing. No industry. In short, nothing but an area where those who lived here could spend leisurely time just enjoying themselves. Did he envision a stadium? I truly doubt it. But that met the stipulation, and in 1926 that’s exactly what was built there. And what else would you name a stadium built where two rivers came together at a point to form a third larger river? No, not Three Rivers, although a city to the west of us selected that name years later. Here in Johnstown the stadium was named the Point Stadium, and it has remained the Point Stadium, or simply the Point, ever since.
Johnstown had been the home of minor league baseball dating back to 1883, when they were simply called the Johnstown Baseball Club. Over the years they had also been called the Pirates (1892), the Terrors (1893), the Buckskins (1895), and the Mormans (1898), before becoming the Johnnies in 1904. The new stadium became the home of the Johnnies, who played in the old Middle Atlantic League, and one year after the stadium was built, the Johnnies played an exhibition game against the New York Yankees. Yep. Those New York Yankees. The ones with Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and the rest of what was referred to as Murderer’s Row, for their hitting prowess. The Johnnies weren’t slouches themselves, fresh off back-to-back league championships in 1925 and 1926, and they did themselves proud that day. A boxing match was presented before the game, but when the game began, the Johnnies jumped to an early lead and hung on, defeating the Yankees 7-5. The highlight of the day for the 10,000 fans in attendance, however, came when Babe Ruth hit a batting practice home run over the right field wall.
In 1930 the stadium gained a share of national attention when it became one of about 38 minor league stadiums in the United States to install permanent lights, although temporary lighting had been used occasionally before the turn of the century..
While baseball dominated the history of the stadium, the Point did serve other purposes. In 1948, more than 11,000 filed into the stadium to hear a campaign speech from President Harry S. Truman. That same year saw the Johnstown Johnnies set an attendance record for the stadium when 14,791 fans crowded in for a game. The stadium became a movie set in 1983 when All the Right Moves, a football movie starring Tom Cruise, Craig T. Nelson, and Lea Thompson filmed game action there. Boxing matches, rock concerts, fireworks displays, WW II bond drives, and high school and college sports all took place in the old stadium. Professional football made its appearance on November 5, 1936 when the Pittsburgh Pirates (nowthe steelers) defeated the Philadelphia Eagles, 6-0. Johnstown’s Cadwallader Reese was a member of the Pirates staff. The Johnstown Clippers in the Western Pennsylvania Professional Football League played at the Point from 1947 through 1949, and during the 1987 NFL players strike, the Pittsburgh Steelers used the stadium for practices and workouts.
On June 16, 1989 Bon Jovi presented a concert at the stadium in front of nearly 20,000 fans. Heavy rains had preceded his concert, which opened with a performance from Skid Row as the opening act. Fans crowded around the outfield stage, and when the concert concluded the outfield grass was, for all intent, ground into mud. Although the field was repaired, the natural grass was replaced with an all-turf surface in 2007, after the stadium was rebuilt in 2005-2006.
When originally built, the Point had a seating capacity of 17,000, bolstered by an upper deck on top of the grandstand. The upper deck was eventually removed, reducing seating to 10,000, and in 2005 the old stadium was razed and replaced by a 7,500 seat venue. The new stadium opened on August 8, 2006 with a AAABA game between Johnstown and Chicago. Having been tucked into a rectangular city block, not much could be done to extend the short left field foul line, so to prevent cheap home runs, a huge screen was installed. Patterned after the one in Boston’s famed Fenway Park called the Green Monster, the Point’s screen has become known as the Screen Monster.
When UPJ played in the West Virginia Intercollegiate Athletic Conference, the conference’s baseball championship tournaments were played at the Point in 2008, 2009, 2010, and 2012. The Pennsylvania State Athletic Conference tournament championships were also played there in 2010 and 2011. The stadium is the main field for the annual AAABA Tournament, which has been played in Johnstown every year since 1945 with only three exceptions: 1946 when it was played in Washington, 1977 when Altoona hosted the tournament after Johnstown had been hit with its third deadly flood, and 2020 when all activities were canceled due to the coronavirus. It also hosts the city’s summer baseball program, with the local representatives to the AAABA tournament selected in the season-ending playoff.
Two significant events took place involving the Point Stadium in 2018. The influential Sports Planning Guide, which produces information on sports venues across the United States for use by event planners and venue selectors, named the Point Stadium one of their Nine Great Baseball Parks and Complexes in the East. At about the same time, the city entered into an agreement with the Sargent’s Group for the naming rights. As result, the stadium’s official name now is Sargent’s Stadium at the Point.
Beginning in 2021, the stadium will host the city’s newest baseball representative, the Johnstown Mill Rats entry in the Prospect Collegiate Baseball League, an NCAA certified league for top collegiate baseball players. Although it has only been in existence since 2011, the league already has sent nearly 200 players to the major leagues.
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Anyone who has been downtown in the vicinity of Central Park has seen it – that big church across Locust Street from the Post Office Building. It’s the Franklin Street United Methodist Church, one of Johnstown’s oldest. Its history, or at least the history of the congregation, goes back more than 200 years.
In 1809 Methodist Episcopals in Johnstown shared a building with local Presbyterians and Lutherans. The church, in a building called “Old Blackie,” was located at the corner of Napoleon and Market Streets, where Joseph Johns Junior High School would eventually be built.
In 1838 local Methodists chose the corner of what is now the corner of Franklin and Locust streets to build their church. As the congregation grew, the church underwent expansions in 1853 and 1869. Its 80-foot tall steeple is easily seen by anyone in the vicinity of Central Park. It is the only downtown church that predates the 1889 flood. It was also destined to play a major role in that disaster. In 1889 it was the largest church building in town, and the congregation was second in size only to St. Joseph’s, a nearby German Catholic church.
On that fateful day, May 31, 1889, the Reverend Henry L. Chapman was preparing his sermon for Sunday morning when something caught his eye outside the parsonage window. It was a railroad car, floating past the house! It had been raining all day, but it had not been raining hard enough to float a railroad car. He decided his sermon could wait. He gathered his family and rushed them to the attic. They spent the next several hours watching nearby houses being swept away when the South Fork Dam broke, while hoping their own home would not be next. After all, the parsonage had been their home for only a month and they had already grown to love it.
But the house stood firm, nestled next to the church, and their lives were spared. In fact, many lives would be spared because of the massive structure. When the flood waters hit the building, the church stood strong, causing the waters to split and go around. One reason for the building’s strength came from the material used in its construction: solid sandstone recycled from the Allegheny Portage Railroad and the canal that flowed through Johnstown at one time.
Those buildings, many of them anyway, that stood in the downstream side of the church remained standing because the church took the brunt of the force. One of those buildings spared from destruction was the Alma Hall, which was the subject of an earlier post. Many sermons would be preached in the coming weeks and months based on the church’s parting of the waters.
When the flood waters subsided it appeared that the church had survived with no damage. The exterior looked just as it did before the rains came and the dam burst. But the inside of the church was a different matter. Water stains inside the sanctuary showed that the water had reached a depth of 18 feet. The weight of that water, in turn, caused the floor to collapse. Plaster walls were ruined, and the choir loft and pews were unusable.
A committee charged with evaluating surviving structures inspected the church and decided it could not be salvaged. It was ordered to be dynamited and hauled away, until the commander of the relief troops learned the structure’s importance in saving many other buildings. He ordered that guards be placed around the church so that nobody could do any demolition until the committee reevaluated their decision. Fortunately for us, and for history, the committee reversed their position and the structure was saved.
Additional expansions took place in 1912 and 1958. The church would go on to survive two more major floods, in 1936 and 1977, making it one of the few churches in the country to endure three major disasters. It would also survive a major fire in 1950.
Reverend Chapman was one of three local clergymen (the other two were Reverend David J. Beale of the Presbyterian Church and Father Tahaney of St. John’s Catholic Church) who supervised disbursal of money from a large fund set up by New York newspapers to aid flood victims. Additional funding came from other Methodist churches, as well as a variety of other organizations around the world. What wasn’t needed to repair the church was re-donated by the church to individual flood victims.
Tomorrow: Community Arts Center of Cambria County’s log cabin
If you were to encounter someone whose nickname was “Terrible Terry,” you probably would think twice before you’d do anything to antagonize him. In the case of the “Terrible Terry” who is the subject of today’s post, that would prove to be very prudent.
This “Terrible Terry” was born in Johnstown on March 9, 1880. His real name was John Terrence McGovern, and he was a professional boxer. He fought 80 times, with 65 wins and only 6 losses, with 8 draws and one declared no contest. Of those 65 wins, 44 were by knockouts. That’s why you wouldn’t want to antagonize this “Terrible Terry.” By the way, he was also the World Bantamweight Champion and the World Featherweight Champion. He also defeated Frank Erne, who was the World Lightweight Champion at the time, but he was not declared World Lightweight Champion because the bout was not officially sanctioned.
When McGovern was still a toddler the family moved to South Brooklyn. After his father died when McGovern was barely a teenager, McGovern peddled vegetables to help support his widowed mother. At the age of 16 he took up boxing at the Greenwood Athletic Club in Brooklyn, boxing in preliminary bouts. Several of his brothers also saw boxing as a means of earning a living.
McGovern was regarded as a puncher, rather than a finesse boxer, and his defensive style was limited. He was willing to take a punch if he could also deliver one, reasoning that he would punch harder than his opponent. The 44 knockouts supports his confidence in his ability to punch hard. On September 12, 1899, a crowd of 10,000 at the Westchester Athletic Club in New York saw McGovern facing British boxer Pedlar Palmer. McGovern was only 19 years old but had already been boxing professionally for two years. At stake was the World Bantamweight Championship. With one body blow after another, McGovern knocked Palmer out in the first round, becoming the world champion. Two months later he repeated the first round knockout against Patsy Haley in Chicago.
On July 16, 1900, McGovern fought World Lightweight Champion Frank Erne in Madison Square Garden. In the first round Erne knocked McGovern down. McGovern rose to his feet and resumed the fight. In the third round, he became even more aggressive, knocking Erne down twice. A powerful blow to Erne’s face finished the fight, as Erne’s seconds threw in the sponge, symbolic of surrendering. The immediate reaction was to declare McGovern the new World Lightweight Champion by virtue of a technical knockout, but the bout was not officially sanctioned, and McGovern was never officially recognized as the champion. After the fight was over, Erne was examined by doctors, who determined that McGovern’s punch had inflicted substantial injuries to Erne’s nose and mouth.
On January 9, 1900, McGovern moved up in weight class in a sanctioned bout against World Featherweight Champion George Dixon. McGovern’s reputation for being an aggressive puncher showed up in the early betting when he was made the favorite, despite being the challenger. The fight was later determined to be one of the most heavily bet boxing matches ever staged. Using straight, short punches, Terrible Terry wore the champion down. In the sixth round, Dixon’s manager could no longer stand to watch his fighter continue to take such a beating, and he threw in the sponge. Officials ruled McGovern the winner, and new World Featherweight Champion, by a knockout. Immediately controversy arose, not about McGovern being declared the winner, but for his being declared winner by a knockout. Advocates for Dixon insisted that the fight had been ended before the referee finished his ten-count that would have made the knockout official. The controversy was never settled to anyone’s satisfaction.
McGovern continued to defeat all challengers, knocking each one of them out, until November 28, 1901, when he was stopped in the second round by Young Corbett II. The results were the same in a rematch 16 months later. McGovern continued to box, while also becoming a vaudeville entertainer. He had an estimated lifetime earnings of $203,000, which included his vaudeville earnings. That would equate to about $6,000,000 today.
After retiring from boxing, McGovern followed the unfortunate pattern of many boxers of his day, losing large sums of money betting on the horses. He even bought a racehorse, hiring one of his brothers to be the jockey. The results were what most people would expect.
Gradually, the effect of being punched so many times in the head took its toll. His behavior became more irrational, his judgement more questionable. He would spend much of his later life in mental institutions. On February 22, 1918, he died of pneumonia and Bright’s Disease, a kidney ailment, in the charity ward of the King’s County Hospital in Brooklyn. He was buried in Brooklyn’s Holy Cross Cemetery.
McGovern was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 1965, and into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1990.
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2Patricia Defibaugh and Lindy Berkebile Yutzy
Most of us have attended some type of event at the War Memorial at some time in our lives. Maybe you went to a hockey game or basketball game, maybe a concert or political rally, or maybe you even had your graduation there. But have you ever given much thought to the name of the building? It wasn’t named the War Memorial because the name had a nice ring to it. It truly is what the name says: it is a memorial to those from Cambria County who left the comfort of home and went off to some far-off land to fight in battles in places that we sometimes couldn’t even pronounce. It is those men and women who are honored by the War Memorial, not some rock star or hockey player. We must never forget that, or what they did.
A few weeks ago I contacted Josh Hauser, Community Operations Director of the Veteran Community Initiatives, Inc. and asked if he could provide me with some information that would make a good post. Josh came through with flying colors. In the interest of full disclosure, Josh is married to our niece, Jennifer. What you are about to read is the result of the hard work that Josh has done, along with my friend Tom Cauffiel, and the staff at VCI. Thanks to all of you, but especially Josh, for putting this information together.
The War Memorial has been around for more than 75 years. I posted about it previously so I won’t go into a lot of detail about the building or how it came to be. Now known as the 1st Summit Arena at Cambria County War Memorial, the building has been around long enough that it is an institution in downtown Johnstown. It is one way the county says thank you to our veterans.
We know that the War Memorial contains plaques and photos relating to the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. But did you know that we also have a Cambria County Military Hall of Fame? It consists of 56 individuals who went above and beyond the call of duty, and they have plaques in their honor, too. There are some familiar names there, many of them written about here; men like Iwo Jima flag raiser Michael Strank; Boyd “Buzz” Wagner, America’s first WW II Flying Ace; General George B. Simler, commander of NATO Allied Forces in Southern Europe; and General Charles Menoher, commander of the famed Rainbow Division.
The Hall of Fame honors heroes from the Civil War, both World Wars, Korea, and Vietnam. There are eight Medal of Honor recipients, 15 who received the Distinguished Service Cross, and seven who were awarded the Navy Cross. There are also four Congressmen, an Ambassador, a White House photographer, an inventor, and even a coach and an actor. And while we don’t often give women in the military enough credit, there are also three women in the Hall of Fame.
But the War Memorial is not just the Hall of Fame. It also honors every Cambria Countian who made the ultimate sacrifice. There were 201 who didn’t return from World War I. You may remember that WW I was called the “War to End All Wars.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and another 863 from Cambria County lost their lives in World War II. Vietnam claimed 71 young men, including 51 who were killed in action and six more who died later of their wounds. Two have been declared Missing in Action, and another 12 died in service. One of those killed in action, Harry Cramer, was the first American killed in the Vietnam War. He was the subject of an earlier post. The list of those killed in Korea is still not completed, but it will be substantial. Those who died came from all parts of the county, from the city to some of the smallest hamlets. Their names appear on bronze plaques at the arena. None will be forgotten.
There are 49 names on a separate plaque, listing those who went through the terrifying experience of being a prisoner of war. Some of them were barely old enough to shave, and they were forced to endure the indignities, starvation, and in many cases, torture, that POWs suffer when held by the enemy. Uncertain if they would ever see their families again, or even if their families knew they were still alive, they stood strong and resisted. Fortunately, most of these men returned home eventually, but they would never be the same. There were three from the Civil War, five from Korea, one of the famed Iran hostages, and one, Robert Bliss, who was captured in Vietnam. The rest on the list are from World War II.
The War Memorial even recognizes those families who have sent their sons and daughters off to war. A list of every family would contain hundreds, maybe thousands, of families and would not be practical. The War Memorial has chosen to recognize those families who have sent at least five or more of their children to the military. There are 62 such families, with the Emmett McCabe family of Lilly having sent an astonishing 11 children to serve. The McCabes are followed closely by Mr. and Mrs. John Lehman of Johnstown, with 10, and Mr. and Mrs. Sam Miner from Beaverdale, who had 9 children serve. There were four families who sent 8, nine who sent 7, another 21 families with 6, and 26 with 5. These 62 families are honored by a plaque in the arena’s concourse, as well.
A small Veterans Memorial Museum has been set up in a special room that contains uniforms, photos, patches, medals, personal items, and even an actual discharge certificate from the Civil War. It is a place where visitors can take a moment and reflect, and thank those who are honored there.
The arena lobby and concourse contain paintings, flags, uniforms and more, in addition to the plaques already mentioned. An interactive kiosk was installed last October that enables visitors to view special commemorative videos of some of those who served from the county. There is even a plaque listing the 18 bridges in the county that bear the name of a veteran. Inside the arena itself, look on the back of your seat. You may see a small marker with a name on it. That is the name of a local veteran who has been honored by his or her family with the placement of that marker.
So next time you happen to be in the arena, before you get caught up in the action of the game or the sounds of the concert, take a moment or two to think about what the arena really represents. And when you see a veteran, tell him or her you appreciate their service.
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General George B. Simler was born on February 16, 1921 in Johnstown. General Simler graduated from Ferndale High School, where he was a lineman on the 1937 Yellow Jackets football team that went 9-1-1. He then attended the University of Maryland, receiving his commission as a Second Lieutenant in the Army Air Corps before he graduated. He returned to the university four years later as the first professor of Air Science and Tactics and later enrolled as a student again, this time completing his courses and graduating in 1948. In his senior year he was captain of the Maryland football team that played to a 20-20 tie against Georgia in the 1948 Gator Bowl. Following graduation, he remained in the Air Force, going on to graduate from the National War College in 1961.
Before doing this, however, he served two combat tours during World War II and had been shot down on the second of those tours. For more than two months he evaded capture, returning to Allied lines safely in September, 1944. Following the war he served as commander of both the 86th Fighter-Bomber Group and the 355th Fighter Group.
In 1957 he was assigned to the United States Air Force Academy, where he served as Athletic Director from 1957 to 1960. Although he was only the Falcons’ athletic director for four years, he was instrumental in the establishment of two major milestones. In the first, he was credited with selecting the site for the Air Force Academy’s Falcon Stadium. In the second, he led the campaign to establish the Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy, awarded each year to the winner of the three-way football competition between the Air Force, Naval, and Military Academies.
After leaving the Air Force Academy he served in various roles, including commander of the 18th Tactical Fighter Wing. Under his command the 18th became the first group in the Pacific Air Forces to convert to the F-105 Thunderchief. After serving as commander of the Tactical Fighter Weapons Center at Nellis Air Force Base, he was assigned to Southeast Asia, where he was Director of Operations of the Seventh Air Force. In that position he flew combat missions in every tactical strike aircraft assigned to the Seventh.
After serving in Southeast Asia, he assumed a new position as Director of Operations at Headquarters, U. S. Air Force in 1967, Vice Commander of the United States Air Forces in Europe in 1969, and Commander of Air Training Command in September 1970.
On September 9, 1972, while piloting a T-38 Talon jet trainer at Randolph Air Force Base in Texas, he crashed on takeoff. Simler and his aide, Captain Gil Gillespie, were both killed. Simler had been scheduled for a promotion to general three days later, when he was to take command of the Military Airlift Command at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois. He was posthumously promoted to General on August 16, 1972. His remains were returned to the Air Force Academy for burial.
Simler’s military decorations include the Air Force Distinguished Service Medal with oak leaf cluster, Legion of Merit with oak leaf cluster, Distinguished Flying Cross with oak leaf cluster, Air Medal with 11 oak leaf clusters, Air Force Commendation Medal, Army Commendation Medal, Purple Heart, and the Vietnam Air Gallantry Cross.
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Clifton T. Speicher was born March 25, 1931 in the village of Gray, Somerset County. At age 20 he enlisted in Company F of the 223rd Infantry Regiment, 40th Infantry Division, and two years later was serving in Korea as a Light Weapons Infantryman.
On June 14, 1952 the young corporal was part of an assault on a hostile position near Minarigol in North Korea. His squad was under orders to take a hill that was considered to be a key terrain feature. He was wounded when his squad came under intense small-arms, mortar, and machine gun fire. Despite his wound and the intense fire, he cautiously lifted his head enough to determine where the resistance was coming from. Before ducking back down, he spotted a fortified bunker nearby that contained a machine gun crew.
Leaving his position of relative safety, he charged the machine gun emplacement that had the squad pinned down. In the charge, he got to within 10 yards of the North Korean’s position before he was wounded a second time. Ignoring his wounds he entered the bunker, shooting and killing two of the enemy. He killed a third man with his bayonet, silencing the machine gun.
The others in his squad were taken by surprise when Speicher launched his one-man attack, but when they realized what he was doing they joined in and helped complete the mission. Speicher, dazed and in pain, forced himself to walk down the hill. Reaching the bottom, he collapsed and died. His remains were brought home for burial in the Beam German Reformed Church Cemetery in Jennerstown. He was 21 years old.
A little more than a year later, on August 19, 1953, Speicher was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, our nation’s highest military award for valor. The Medal was presented to Speicher’s father in the Pentagon Auditorium by Under Secretary of the Army Earl D. Johnson.
With that award, issued under the Department of the Army’s General Orders Number 65, he became the fourth Somerset County native to achieve that honor. Francis Cunningham and John Mostoller each had received theirs for their actions in the Civil War. George Henry Ramer had received his just eight months before Speicher, for heroism at the Battle of the Punchbowl, also in Korea. Cunningham, Mostoller, and Ramer have all been remembered here in earlier posts. Corporal Speicher was one of only 136 recipients from the Korean War out of 5,700,000 Americans who fought there.
In addition to his Medal of Honor, Speicher was awarded the Purple Heart, the Combat Infantryman Badge, the Marksmanship Badge, the Korean Service Medal, the United Nations Service Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, the Republic of Korea War Service Medal, the Republic of Korea Presidential Citation, the Army Presidential Unit Citation, and the Army Good Conduct Medal.
On November 11, 2009, Veterans Day, Speicher’s family took part in a ceremony in the Somerset County Office Building on North Center Avenue in Somerset. There, they donated Speicher’s Medal of Honor and Purple Heart to the Somerset County Veterans Hall of Honor. A crowd of nearly 200 had assembled to remember the local hero.
Clifton Speicher is remembered at the Korean War Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC. His name is also inscribed on the Wall of Remembrance at the United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Korea.
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Beginning in 1960 or so, and continuing for the next 30 years, K & J Coal Company conducted a massive surface mining operation near Patton. One of the pieces of equipment they utilized was a huge drag line known as the “Appalachian Lady.” The Appalachian Lady gouged out large chunks of the landscape in the process of scooping up the coal. When the mine played out, the equipment was moved out of the area, leaving 67 acres of moonscape-looking terrain.
It appeared that those 67 acres were destined to become much like other abandoned strip mines across the country for about 10 years, until the Pennsylvania State Department of Conservation and Natural Resources saw the potential to convert the property into a recreation area. Bolstered by a $2,000,000 grant from the state’s ATV/Snowmobile Fund, the DCNR purchased the property.
Today it is owned by the Cambria County Conservation and Recreation Authority and is now known as the Rock Run Recreation Area. In 2002 the Rock Run Recreation Project began as a pilot project for the DCNR. A multi-phase development project, the first phase opened for busines in 2007, with 50 miles of ATV, dirt bike, and off-highway vehicle trails, a welcome center, parking areas, and primitive camping areas. There are now more than 350 primitive sites spread out over six camping areas. A shower house is available based on temperature conditions. Camping is available as a convenience for riders, and Rock Run emphasizes that, saying they are not a campground, per se, but are a riding facility that provides camping for those who are riding in the complex.
Today there are 6000 acres and 140 miles of color-coded trails to accommodate all skill levels. Green trails are the easiest and are recommended for those with the least experience. Blue trails are moderately hard, for those with some experience but not yet ready for the most difficult terrain. Trails marked as black are only for those with greater skill levels. The three loops are interconnected and are designed for two-way travel, with the exception of some of the steeper downhill sections where safety dictates only one-way travel.
The terrain offers a wide variety of scenery, from heavily wooded areas to deep ravines. Stream crossings are facilitated by a bridge system, and the thousands of rocks that were dumped during the coal mining operation now form a challenging boulder field that riders say is reminiscent of riding in the Rocky Mountains. Those familiar with the trail system say that the scenic vistas are unmatched. A side benefit may be the sighting of wild game, including beavers, deer, bears, wild turkeys, and even the occasional bald eagle.
Rock Run has two major special events each year. The Summer Blast is held over four days late in the summer and the entire area is closed to regular riding. Special events, which vary from year to year, may include live entertainment, vendors, factory demo rides, races, and special events for kids, and only those with event passes can take part. At the end of summer, the big event is Rally at the Rock, marking the official end of the summer riding season. Riding the trails one last time, tons of food, guided tours, and vendors make this an event that makes the end of summer just a bit more bearable.
Today the park entertains visitors from throughout the East, with some riders from deep in the Midwest. Rock Run bills itself as the “Premier ATV Recreation Park East of the Mississippi.” And you’ll hear no argument from anyone who has been there.
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Frances Hesselbein may be one of the most famous women you’ve never heard of. She was born in Johnstown on November 1, 1915 and became so accomplished that she was referred to by Peter Drucker, the father of modern management, as “America’s Greatest Leader.” Fortune Magazine went a bit further, naming her one of the World’s Greatest Leaders, along with Apple CEO Tim Cook and Elon Musk, CEO if Tesla Motors and SpaceX. If you think that is idle praise, consider this: In 1998 she was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor. I’ll tell you why she received that prestigious honor later.
Frances attended Johnstown Junior College before it became UPJ, then graduated from the University of Pittsburgh. She began her working career as most women do, and she started to get involved in volunteer work, the one thing she really loved. She became a troop leader in the Girl Scouts, and in the 1970s, the local United Way asked her to chair their annual fund drive, making her the first woman to do so anywhere in the world.
Her success in her job, coupled with the reputation she built as a leader in the Girl Scouts and other organizations, did not go unnoticed. In 1976 the position of CEO with the Girl Scouts national headquarters became vacant. She did not seek the job. Rather, the Girl Scouts sought her. A phone call came one day from the Girl Scouts, asking her to apply for the position. Her application led to her being called to New York for a series of interviews. Not long after, she was offered the job. She accepted and served in the position for 13 years. In that time she built membership to 2,250,000 and grew the workforce to 780,000, most of them volunteers.
In 1990 she left the Girl Scouts to head up the Leader to Leader Institute, formerly the Peter F. Drucker Foundation for Nonprofit Management. In 2005, following Drucker’s death, the Foundation was renamed for Hesselbein. In 2009 she helped found the Hesselbein Global Academy for Student Leadership and Civic Engagement at the University of Pittsburgh.
Among her many honors in addition to her Presidential Medal of Freedom, she has received an astounding 23 honorary doctoral degrees. The University of Pittsburgh has established the Frances Hesselbein Leadership Forum in her honor. Pitt has also named her as a Distinguished Alumna and Pitt Legacy Laureate. She also has been awarded the Distinguished Daughter of Pennsylvania Award, the Dwight D. Eisenhower National Security Award, and the Girl Scouts of the USA Lifetime Achievement Award.
She also serves on the Boards of Directors of Mutual of America Life Insurance Company, the Bright China Social Fund, the California Institute of Advanced Management, and the Teachers College, Columbia University Presidents Advisory Council. From 2009 to 2011 she served as the Class of 1951 Chair for the Study of Leadership at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, the first female and the first non-graduate of West Point to hold that position. Her latest venture was as CEO of the Frances Hesselbein Leadership Institute. Oh, yeah … somehow in her spare time she has authored or co-authored 27 books that have been published in 29 languages.
And that Presidential Medal of Freedom she was awarded? Well, she received it in 1998 for her work with the Girls Scouts. Most of that other stuff happened later. They would have probably had to invent a new award to honor her properly for all she has done. In November 2013, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, she and a few other recipients were invited to the White House by President Barack Obama.
Frances attributes her success to her opportunity to grow up in Johnstown. She has two axioms that she offers to anyone who wants to be successful in life: First, Listen. Second, Be On Time. She believes that nobody has ever been really successful who didn’t follow those simple pieces of advice.
I have not found any indication that she has passed away, but did find an article indicating she presented a speech in 2012 at the age of 99, and another in 2018 talking about the celebration of her 103rd birthday. By all indications, she is still around, and this amazing lady is probably still doing great things.
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Johnstown has long been a major player in our nation’s defense industry. Companies like Lockheed-Martin, JWF Defense Systems, Concurrent Technologies, DRS Laurel Technologies, and Navmar Applied Sciences are just a few of the better-known companies. Even foreign countries have established a major presence in Johnstown, doing business with the U.S. military. Martin-Baker (United Kingdom), Kongsburg (Norway), Kitron Technologies (Norway), Nammo Talley (Norway), and North American Hoganas (Sweden) all provide services and products vital to the U. S. Defense Industry. Local workers provide everything from aircraft ejection seats to missile system controls, and many items and systems in between that keep our country secure.
Considering this, it only seems natural that one of the nation’s premier trade shows for the defense industry is located here in Johnstown. That trade show, the Showcase for Commerce, is now in its 30th year providing networking opportunities between the government and defense contractors, not only those based locally, but also those from around the country.
Showcase is nationally renowned, bringing more than 100 national and multi-national exhibitors and more than 1000 attendees each year to meet with one another, talk with representatives of government agencies and various branches of the military, and see the latest innovations in military technology. Hundreds of millions of dollars worth of defense contracts are signed over the course of the three day exhibition. Many of those contracts benefit the local defense industry.
Showcase for Commerce was pushed aggressively by the late Congressman John Murtha, a strong proponent for a robust national defense and a major booster of the local area. His numerous personal and professional contacts paid dividends, particularly in the event’s early years when local officials were trying to get the exhibition into the national conversation. Today, the event attracts national political officials, Pentagon-level officers representing all branches of the military, and representatives of some of the largest defense contractors in the world.
Seminars are provided to acquaint companies that are new to the maze of bidding on defense contracts, including how to do it, when to do it, what is expected, quality control, and all the basic ins-and-outs of working with the government. The goal is to remove the intimidation factor while broadening the base of available providers to the defense industry. By every measure, it appears to be working.
The main exhibition area is in the 1st Summit Arena at Cambria County War Memorial, with overflow exhibits of larger military vehicles on Napoleon Street, which is closed in that area during the entire three days. The exhibition is open to the public as well as to companies seeking to visit with exhibitors. The Pasquerilla Conference Center, situated across Napoleon Street from the War Memorial, is used for the opening and closing receptions, a breakfast, meeting space, briefings, and press conferences.
While a great deal of business is conducted during the event, there are also social events. Tours, visits to local sites, and private gatherings in the evening provide an opportunity for those in attendance to relax and network. And no business conference would be complete, or even considered legitimate, without a golf outing,
Contractors and military officials alike indicate that they look forward to their Johnstown visit every year, and the city can be proud of what our local defense contractors are doing to maintain a secure nation.
In 1843 the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh was founded by Bishop Michael O’Connor. The Bishop traveled to Rome for consecration by the Pope, and rather than making a direct trip back to Pittsburgh, he went by way of his native Ireland. His goal in Ireland was to recruit priests to come to Pittsburgh to serve the new diocese. In addition to the priests, he also selected eight Sisters of Mercy to come to America from Dublin.
Under the guidance of Frances Ward, who had been serving in a home for poor and abused women in Dublin that had become known as the House of Mercy, the group boarded the Queen of the West for their journey to the United States. Once they arrived in New York, the traveled by train to Philadelphia, then to Chambersburg. Once in Chambersburg, the women took a carriage to Pittsburgh, where they found a city with many sick in need of skilled care. Few had access to formal education. Noting immediately those needs, they knew what their mission would be, and they set out to established a legacy of healthcare and education.
They quickly established two schools and an orphanage, and set about treating the destitute who otherwise would have no access to healthcare. In 1846, the Sisters established a hospital, promising that it would be “free from sectarianism, and economical in its arrangement.” That hospital became known as the Mercy Hospital of Pittsburgh, the first hospital in Western Pennsylvania and the first Mercy hospital in the world. It opened officially on January 1, 1847.
In 1910 the Sisters of Mercy expanded their mission, opening a Mercy Hospital in Johnstown. It would follow the same philosophy as its parent hospital in Pittsburgh, providing skilled care to those who needed it. The local hospital opened a School of Nursing the following year.
While nurses were not required to be nuns, the nuns who served in the hospital in healthcare-related jobs were easily identifiable. To differentiate from the more commonly seen black habits worn by nuns, those at Mercy wore white habits that featured tighter sleeves and slimmer skirts, making them more streamlined and efficient for healthcare work
In 1918, in a scene that foreshadowed the current pandemic, the Spanish Flu pandemic struck Johnstown, as it did the rest of the world. Mercy hospital provided a vital service, along with the Conemaugh Valley Memorial Hospital that was located just up Franklin Street. It would be called upon to step up again in the devastating floods of 1936 and 1977. The hospital itself suffered greatly in the 1977 flood, with no electrical power or water service, but it found a way to continue its work.
Upon entering Mercy Hospital, visitors passed a large religious statue. Another awaited them in the lobby, and numerous smaller religious icons were placed throughout the hospital. Years later, the hospital changed its name to Good Samaritan, and when it became part of the Conemaugh Health System, it would no longer be affiliated with the Catholic church. At that time, Conemaugh Medical Center donated the statues to area churches that had some connection to the individual figures depicted by the statue they received. For example, the statue of St. Theresa went to St. Theresa Church in the West End.
Today the hospital continues the work that was begun in 1910 as a satellite hospital of the Mercy Hospital of Pittsburgh. Now, however, it operates as the Good Samaritan Building of the Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center. The nine-story brick and steel structure now houses Conemaugh Memorial Medical Center’s Psychiatric Unit, Cancer Center, and various other departments, including the Palliative Care Inpatient Unit to provide relief to patients suffering from pain, symptoms, and stress associated with serious illnesses such as heart disease, lung ailments, Alzheimer’s Disease, Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (Lou Gehrig’s Disease), and multiple sclerosis.
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Ron was born January 14, 1940 in Colver. He attended schools in the Central Cambria system, graduating in 1957 from Central Cambria High school. He attended the University of Cincinnati on a football scholarship and was drafted in the second round of the 1961 NFL Draft as the 26th overall selection by the Green Bay Packers. The Packers were just in the second year of their seven-year domination of the league, during which they won five NFL championships as well as the first two Super Bowls. Kostelnik could not have chosen a better team to play for.
A defensive tackle, he played as backup to the veteran Dave Hanner for a few seasons, learning the difference between being a good college player and a professional. In 1964 he became the starter at his position, receiving few accolades on a dominant defensive line, overshadowed by 5-time All-Pro Willie Davis, 7-time All-Pro Henry Jordan, and Lionel Aldridge. Kostelnik’s contribution was recognized by his teammates, however, and offensive guard Jerry Kramer made sure others were aware. Kramer, himself a 7-time All-Pro, said that Kostelnik was a steady and dependable guy who plugged up the middle of the line and allowed others to excel and get the publicity. There ae no statistics for that.
With the 6’-4”, 260 pound Kostelnik doing just that, plugging up the middle of the line, Coach Vince Lombardi led the Packers to NFL championships in 1961, 1962, 1965, 1966, and 1967. Kostelnik was a major contributor to those championships. The Packers went on to win Super Bowl I and Super Bowl II, with Kostelnik still “plugging up the middle.”
In 1969 Kostelnik was traded to the Baltimore Colts. It was the first year for the Colts after losing to Joe Namath and the New York Jets in Super Bowl III, and they suffered from the dreaded Super Bowl let-down, where Super Bowl teams tend to have underperforming seasons the next year. The Colts went 8-5-1 in what was a disappointing season. Kostelnik retired at the end of the season.
Following his retirement from football, Kostelnik took his Master’s Degree to Mainline Industrial Distributors of Appleton, Wisconsin. He had been working for the company in the off-season for five years, which set him up nicely to take over as president of the company in 1970.
In 1993, he and his wife Peggy went on vacation to Florida. On the return trip he suffered a fatal heart attack while driving on Interstate 75 in Kentucky, causing him to lose control of the car and strike a mound of dirt. Fortunately, nobody was injured, but Ron was declared deceased on January 29, 1993 at age 53.
In 1967, while still playing for the Packers, he was inducted into the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame. The University of Cincinnati named him to the university’s athletic department Hall of Fame in 1985, and the Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame inducted him in 1989.
And that missing ring? It was his ring from Super Bowl II, which he had given to his son Mike. His ring from Super Bowl I had gone to his daughter, Laura. Mike reported that he had been wearing the ring while on a family trip from Wisconsin to Miami. He said that the ring is so heavy that it was uncomfortable to wear at times, so he removed it at some point during the trip and placed it in the center console of his car. That was the last it was seen. The family is offering a $5,000 reward for its return.
In 1989 UPJ hired a new basketball coach. Since 1969 UPJ had only had four winning seasons, so the administration wasn’t asking for much, or expecting much, for that matter. One of the leading candidates for the job was a young coach who had been his high school team’s Most Valuable Player in his senior year and who had set a single-season assist record that would not be broken for 42 years. He had never coached at the college level, but he was already on campus, having served the previous year as the university’s assistant basketball coach. After a series of interviews, that young coach got the job.
The new coach was instructed to just recruit good kids, be competitive, and have a winning season once in a while. That wasn’t good enough for the coach, Bob Rukavina. He had a competitive personality and didn’t like losing. He had no problem agreeing with the part about bringing in good kids, and being competitive was what he planned to be. But having a winning season “once in a while” was not going to cut it for him.
Rukavina knew it wasn’t going to be easy when his telephone didn’t stop ringing that first year. It was almost always a coach or athletic director from another school wanting to schedule UPJ for the easy win. Within a few years the phone calls stopped. Nobody wanted to play UPJ any more and the Mountain Cats were forced to travel as far as North Carolina to find teams willing to play his teams. Not long after that, UPJ had developed into one of the top Division II teams in the country, and they haven’t looked back.
Just three years after assuming the job as UPJ’s coach, he led he team to its first winning record since 1979, clinching it with a win over Division I Youngstown State. UPJ had never defeated a Division I opponent in basketball until that win.
Since Rukovina took the reins at UPJ, the Mountain Cats have gone to four NCAA Division II tournaments and had eight 20-win seasons. Just nine years after he became coach, the team that had only four winning seasons in 19 years finished with a 23-4 record and was ranked fifth in the country. It was the second year in a row that they finished with a 23-4 record, the school record for wins in the regular season. The 1997-98 team went on to finish 24-5 after losing by one point to eventual champion Fairmont State in the NCAA East Regional Semifinals, the second year in a row the t3am had made it into the NCAA tournament.
In 2007 UPJ became a member of the West Virginia Intercollegiate Athletic Conference, where they won the regular season championship with an overall 23-8 record and a 17-3 conference record. That earned Rukavina the conference’s Coach of the Year title. It also earned UPJ another berth in the NCAA tournament. They would win the conference title again in the 2008-09 season and once again play in the NCAA tourney.
In 2008 and 2010 UPJ led the nation in field goal percentage, and in 2013 and 2014 Rukavina’s team was the best three-point shooting team in all of college basketball, including Division I. He has had four players lead the NCAA in some category on six different occasions. Five of his players have attained either All-East or Honorable Mention All-American status, and nine former players have gone on to play professional basketball somewhere in the world.
In 2013-14 UPJ joined the Pennsylvania State Athletic Conference. Since then, Rukavina has led UPJ to six consecutive conference tournaments, including four quarterfinal games. If you are counting the years, the consecutive streak is intact because the PSAC suspended play this past season due to the Covid-19 epidemic. Assuming the 2021-22 season is played, UPJ will have the chance to extend their tournament appearances to seven years in a row. He was named the conference’s Western Division Coach of the Year in 2018-19.
On January 18, 2020 Coach Ruk won his 500th game, defeating Slippery Rock 72-69.
In the summer of 1998 Rukavina coached an all-star team that went to Madrid and Vigo, Spain. He coached the team to a 4-1 record, and in August 2004, he was chosen to join former NBA Coach of the Year Jack McKinney to go to the MedQuest Coaching Clinic in Beirut, Lebanon to teach coaches from throughout the Middle East about basketball.
With all these statistics, it is apparent that Rukavina is the UPJ coach with the most basketball wins, with a record of 507-353, for a .590 win percentage. Both his total wins and his winning percentage are good enough to place him among the national leaders in Division II. He was inducted into the Alle-Kiski Sports Hall of Fame in 2019.
While his coaching record is stellar, one of his proudest achievements is meeting that goal set by the administration in 1989: recruit good kids. Since he became basketball coach, his players have graduated at a 90% rate, one of the best graduation rates in the country for colleges with the academic rating as high as UPJ’s.
He and his wife, Sharon, live in Lower Burrell, PA, and Coach Ruk commutes the 130 miles round trip to UPJ and back several times a week. He doesn’t want to move because he loves where he lives, and he doesn’t want to change jobs (despite offers from Division I teams) because he loves UPJ and Johnstown. Few people can go through life having the best of both worlds. Coach Bob Rukavina is one of the few who actually does.
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In 1916 Mrs. Emily Lee donated funds to construct a new hospital downtown. That hospital would be named for Dr. John K. and Mrs. Lee in recognition of their contribution: the Lee Homeopathic Hospital. As the name suggests, the hospital’s main focus was in delivering homeopathic treatments, treatments that are intended to stimulate the body’s own healing capabilities by using mostly naturally occurring substances, such as plants and minerals.
Dr. Lee was a native of Pittsburgh who had come to Johnstown to practice medicine. Dr. John Kidd Lee had served in the 1st Maryland Cavalry in the Civil War and had been captured and taken to the Confederacy’s infamous Andersonville Prison in Georgia. He came to Johnstown in 1869 and had worked out of his home on the lower end of Main Street. Dr. Lee was one of the 2,209 souls who perished in the 1889 flood. He is buried in Grandview Cemetery, and his photo and the photo of his grave are included with this post.
His widow, Emily, had wanted to recognize her husband for the service he had rendered to the people of Johnstown. She didn’t care about the recognition for herself, a situation that was rectified in the 1980s when the Emily Lee Scholarship was established by Lee Initiatives to pay tribute to her vision and spirit. The scholarship program remains active and provides funding for deserving students pursuing health care careers.
In 1952 the hospital constructed a new addition, followed by another in 1970. Just seven years later the hospital survived its second major Johnstown flood, including one in 1936. Services were interrupted for several days in 1977 when flood waters filled the basement, knocking out all power.
In 1998 Lee became known as UPMC Lee Regional Hospital when it merged into the system operated by the University of Pittsburgh. In doing so, it became only the second acute care hospital in the UPMC family. In October 2003, UPMC opened a $25,000,000 addition at the corner of Market and Lincoln Streets to house UPMC’s new Patient Care Center. The addition included emergency, obstetrics-gynecology, neonatal intensive care and orthopedic-rehabilitation units.
In 2005 the Memorial Medical Center purchased Lee from the University of Pittsburgh, with Lee changing its name once again, this time to Lee Campus of Memorial Medical Center.
In 2008 a unique “hospital within a hospital” began when Select Specialty Hospital Johnstown opened in the Lee Campus main building. Select Specialty relocated to the Lee Campus from Memorial’s main campus. Select Specialty Hospital specializes in patients with chronic lung disease, neuromuscular disorders, mechanical ventilator dependence, acute respiratory ailments, pneumonia, post-surgical complications, strokes, spinal cord injuries, brain injuries, and metabolic encephalopathy. This long-term acute care hospital accepts patients from hospitals in several counties and is one of 88 such hospitals in 25 states. The Memorial Medical Center long-range plan calls for Select Specialty to move back to the main campus at some point.
A second unique situation exists with the State Theater, which closed several years ago and was incorporated into the main Lee building. Fortunately, the hospital maintained it and it has been used in recent years for its original intent. Now the theater is being refurbished, with plans to return it to public use.
Today the Lee Campus of Memorial Medical Center contains 314 beds plus another 24 for the Crichton Rehabilitation Center. It houses the Conemaugh Diabetes Institute, The Lee Ambulatory Surgery Center, the Wound Healing Center, Outpatient x-ray and laboratory services, behavioral health, a Sleep Disorders Center, and the Transitional Care Unit. The Lee Campus is also home to Select Specialty Hospital, a 39-bed critical illness recovery hospital that is listed on the U.S. News best hospitals list.
Frank Solich was born in Johnstown on September 8, 1944 and spent his youth in Robindale. While he was in seventh grade his family moved to Cleveland, where Frank would graduate from Holy Name High School in 1962. At Holy Name he played football and, despite being only 5’-7” tall and weighing 153 pounds, he was named All-State, All-American, and all-scholastic. High school football players who weigh 153 pounds rarely attract a lot of attention from big-time football schools, but when you are also a high school All-American, exceptions are made, and Frank was recruited to play at the University of Nebraska.
As a freshman recruit, Solich knew he would have to get larger if he wanted to stay at Nebraska. His first challenge came at freshman weigh-in, where he knew Coach Bob Devaney wanted him to weigh 162 pounds. Solich knew he didn’t, so somehow he convinced one of the trainers to tape some weights into his shorts. The ruse worked, Solich made it to 162 pounds, and he went on to have a standout career for the Cornhuskers, earning the nickname “Fearless Frankie.”
At Nebraska he was named team captain in 1965, when he was also named All-Conference as a fullback. Against Air Force that season, he ran for 204 yards on only 17 carries, an average of 12 yards per carry. His 204 yards set a Nebraska record, and in doing so he became the first Nebraska player to run for more than 200 yards in one game. He also was featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated, an honor no Cornhusker player had ever attained. He lettered three years at Nebraska.
On graduation he accepted a head coaching position at Holy Name High school in Omaha, where his team was state runner-up in Solich’s second year of coaching. He then moved to Lincoln, Nebraska’s Southeast High School, where he enjoyed similar success, winning back-to-back state championships in 1976 and 1977.
A proven winner as a high school coach, he moved up to the college coaching ranks in 1979, becoming an assistant under the legendary Tom Osborne at Nebraska, where he spent the next 19 years, first coaching the freshman team for four years, then the next 15 as running backs coach. As the running backs coach, he was directly responsible for the success of some of the best running backs in Nebraska history, including Tom Rathman, Calvin Jones, Ahman Green, and Lawrence Phillips. He also helped the Cornhuskers win three national championships and 11 conference championships.
When Osborne retired in 1997, Solich was promoted to head coach, where he launched a streak of six consecutive bowl games, finishing third in the national rankings in 1999 and reaching the national championship game in 2001 where his team lost to Miami. In that six-season stretch his teams won at least 9 games in five of them and finished in the Top 10 three times. In 1999 and 2001 he was named Big 12 Coach of the Year and was a finalist for the Paul “Bear” Bryant Award in 2001, recognizing the coach who makes the biggest contribution both on and off the field. He also coached Eric Couch to the Heisman Trophy.
In 2002, Solich’s team went 7-7, including a loss in the Independence Bowl. Despite winning 58 games in the six preceding years, that was considered a disastrous season at Nebraska, and Solich was fired. As a frame of reference, his predecessors, Bob Devaney and Tom Osborne, won 53 and 55 games respectively in that same span of time. Those records got both elected to the College Football Hall of Fame. The nation was stunned when a better record pushed Solich out of a job.
Solich took a year off, then was hired at Ohio University in 2005. Solich’s arrival in Athens,Ohio, coupled with a stadium and locker room upgrade, kindled fan interest in a way the university hadn’t seen in years. Solich’s name recognition got the Bobcats on national television six times in his first year, more than any time in its history. Their first home game with Solich as coach saw a record crowd file through the turnstiles.
Solich’s record that first year was only 4-7, but the next year, 2006, saw a dramatic turnaround, with the Bobcats going 9-5 to win the MAC East championship and get invited to the GMAC Bowl. Although Ohio lost to Southern Mississippi 28-7, nobody in Athens seemed to care. After all, it was their first bowl game in 38 years. That season’s performance earned him the Mid-American Conference Coach of the Year.
In 2011 Ohio won 10 games in 14 tries, topped by a 24-23 win over Utah state in the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl. It was Ohio’s first bowl victory ever, and their first 10-win season since 1968.
In 2012 the Bobcats jumped out to a 7-0 record, pushing them into the Associated Press Top 25 Poll for the first time in 44 years. In 2019 he won his 111th win as Ohio’s coach, making him the winningest coach in MAC history.
Solich has been inducted into two halls of fame; The Nebraska Football Hall of Fame in 1992, and the Cambria County Sports Hall of Fame in 2004.
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One of the earliest of my postings about the good things in Johnstown was the story of Cambria City and its evolution into a National Historic District. If you recall, a great deal of Cambria City’s history developed around the immigrants who settled there, and the ethnic churches that were so intertwined in their daily lives. Each ethnic group established its own church, with services conducted in the native language of each ethnic group. Old World customs continued here, as did native dress. Cambria City became arguably Johnstown’s most ethnic neighborhood. That ethnicity is now being built on in an effort to make Cambria City into Johnstown’s main cultural district. In addition to ethnic activities and festivals, new restaurants, art galleries, museums, and boutiques are springing up, and the neighborhood is becoming one of the city’s go-to places.
In July 2009, however, following a national trend, the Diocese of Altoona-Johnstown, opted to close three of those churches and consolidate them into one new one: Resurrection. The three churches closed were Sts. Casimir and Emerich (Polish and Hungarian), St. Columba (Irish but English speaking), and Immaculate Conception (German). The move was one of cost-saving, on the theory that operating one church would be cheaper than operating three churches, with the associated utility and maintenance costs.
Almost immediately a group was organized to raise money to promote the reuse of these buildings in some manner. Called Save our Steeples, the group raised money to support a joint effort by Johnstown Area Heritage Association (JAHA) and Partners for Sacred Places of Philadelphia to organize a workshop, called a charrette, to develop a vision for the neighborhood. That workshop resulted in a conceptual plan to start with St. Columba, developing it into a theater which would be used as the home of a historical drama telling the story of the immigrants who came to Johnstown.
Over the next year a new corporation, 1901 Church, Inc., was formed to acquire St. Columba. Before that could be done, however, Resurrection Parish informed local community leaders that its budget could not absorb the cost of maintaining the three closed parishes. Negotiations began between Resurrection and 1901 Church, Inc., and in late 2011 the corporation purchased all three churches from Resurrection for the sum of $30,000.
Upon assuming ownership, 1901 Church launched the Steeples Project with an eye toward raising funds to develop new uses for these churches while keeping the use within the architectural, historical, and cultural schemes associated with each church. The Steeples Project has raised more than $1,000,000 to achieve that.
In September 2012 the first church to be placed into a new use, Immaculate Conception, reopened under its new name, The Grande Halle of Broad Street. Taking advantage of the outstanding acoustics in the building, it began serving the public as a concert hall. Featuring a Gothic design with Munich-stained glass, it has since expanded into a more multi-functional facility, with weddings, receptions, corporate events, and private parties filling its calendar.
In 2015, a private organization known as Stella Property Development and Event Production LLC purchased Sts. Casimir and Emerich and turned it into the Casimir Cultural Center, hosting culturally diverse concerts, small theater productions, symposiums, art shows, festivals, and private events. It also maintains a permanent collection of treasured artifacts from the closed parishes.
In late fall 2020, the Steeples Project announced that the former St. Columba church would, indeed, become a theater. Once completed, it will be offered to local theater companies to rehearse, build sets, and perform, all at no cost. It is hoped that the productions will build on Johnstown’s ethnic heritage while maintaining the Celtic background of the facility. The old Rectory will be converted into an Airbnb.
Before any of this began, however, another ethnic church, St. George’s Serbian Orthodox Church, saw its congregation shrinking to the point where it only opened for funerals and holidays. Unable to maintain it any longer, the building began to deteriorate, reaching a state where neighbors feared it would have to be razed. At that point, Janet and Dennis Mical stepped in and purchased the building in 2009 with an eye toward converting it into an arts venue. It is now the hippest, most diverse place in Cambria City. Its name: Venue of Merging arts (VOMA), to reflect the diversity of entertainment found there.
An art gallery, complete with art instruction classes and art parties, is popular, and at any time a visitor may hear jazz, blues, folk, hip hop, jam sessions, rap, oldies, or punk rock. Open mic nights are extremely popular, particular the Teen Open Mic Night. Comedians, magicians, poets, psychics … all are welcome, and performing groups range from local bands to national touring groups, including former performers in Las Vegas and on Saturday Night Live. Considering the eclectic nature of the productions and the intimate size of VOMA, it is no surprise that many of the performances end up with Standing Room Only audiences.
VOMA is billed as a “community oriented gathering place,” and along with the others new venues mentioned here, is part of the Cambria City Cultural Partnership. All are contributing to the charm and revitalization of this vibrant neighborhood. If you’ve never been to any of them, you owe it to yourself to do so. No matter which one you choose, you won’t regret it, and if you can get to all of them, that’s even better.
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It was about 3:00 am on February 18, 1947, and the fog was heavy that morning. Pennsylvania Railroad Train No. 68, better known as the Red Arrow, had just passed Gallitzin and was more than an hour behind schedule on its way from Detroit to New York. Passenger rail service was typically heavy in the 1940s, and the Red Arrow was no different. The passenger load included recently discharged servicemen, performance troupes, postal workers, and of course, families. All told, there were 238 passengers; 23 porters, chefs, and waiters; 10 clerks from the United States Railway Mail Service; two enginemen; two firemen; and a flagman, brakeman, and conductor.
The Red Arrow was one of the PRR’s prestigious “Blue Ribbon Flyers,” trains that had such outstanding records for punctuality and service that they had led to the railroad’s proclaiming itself the Standard Railroad of the World.
In an effort to make up some time, the engineer had increased his speed on a straight section of track. He wasn’t concerned. He had done it many times before, as did most engineers. Soon he was traveling at an estimated 65 miles/hour, fast enough that a fireman on a freight train that had stopped on a nearby siding commented to a co-worker about it. The speed limit through the area was 35 miles/hour.
Pulling 14 cars, the Red Arrow passed through the Mainline, so called because it contained four parallel tracks. It emerged from the New Portage Tunnel at the east end and began descending a one-mile downhill slope known as The Slide.
When it reached what was known as the Bennington Curve, where the speed limit was decreased to 30 miles/hour, a car derailed. The derailed car pulled other cars with it, and 11 of the 14 cars were either derailed or partially derailed, with most of them careening over an embankment and down into the hollow below. The lead engine overturned and slid on its left side about 405 feet, a later investigation would reveal. Three of the four tracks were badly damaged. A mail car was ripped open and thousands of pieces of mail scattered down the hillside. Several of the passenger cars were crushed.
Among the 24 killed were the fireman on the first engine and the engineer and fireman on the second. The first engine’s engineer and brakeman were badly injured, as were 136 of the passengers. Ambulances were unable to reach the injured because of the mountainous terrain, and area doctors and nurses took a train along the undamaged track to reach those who needed assistance.
Eventually a report was issued that blamed equipment malfunctions and operator error, although the crew was partially given some benefit of the doubt by the report, which said the weather conditions may have played a part in the accident. The malfunction apparently referred to the fact that the throttle in the first engine had somehow unlatched accidentally, increasing the train’s speed just as it reached the curve. The final report actually held the crew blameless.
In 1950 a Cambria County jury was called upon to award damages in the inevitable lawsuits that followed the crash. Some of the survivors of the accident are still alive, and they all remember the accident vividly.
Sadly, before the wreckage could be completely removed, another tragic accident occurred in the same area. Just 10 days after the wreck of the Red Arrow, a train known as the Sunshine Special lost its rear Pullman car. The car sped backwards and uncontrolled down the tracks, smashing into a rock outcropping about ¼ mile from the Red Arrow wreckage. Watchmen who were guarding the Red Arrow wreckage were the first to reach the second wreck.
The crash involving the Sunshine Special car resulted in one fatality and 12 injuries.
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4Patricia Defibaugh, Veronica Varner and 2 others
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Although he isn’t originally from the Johnstown area (he was born in Hummelstown on June 9, 1973) Chris Villarrial played his college football at IUP, then played in the NFL, then came back to the area and began a coaching career. That makes him enough of a Johnstowner to merit this post.
When he came to IUP he redshirted his first season, then became a reserve nose guard when he began his college career. Midway through his first season he switched positions, becoming an offensive right tackle. The move proved to be a good one for him, as he was named All-Conference and All-American in each of his sophomore, junior, and senior years. He was part of the IUP team that played for the Division II National Championship in 1993, and in 1996 he was awarded the Jim Langer Award for being the best lineman in Division II. His jersey has been retired by IUP.
In 1996 he was invited to participate in the NFL Combine for prospective draftees. There, he set a new record for the Combine Bench Press. NFL coaches and general managers immediately took notice, and he was drafted in the fifth round by the Chicago Bears.
Villarrial would go on to play the next six seasons with the Bears and was named All-Pro twice. He was also named to the “All-Joe” Team, an award dreamed up by USA Today sportswriter Larry Weisman. It was named for Joe Phillips, who played in the NFL for several teams for 14 years and is meant to honor those who play in the trenches, the thankless positions that get little or no recognition. Weisman said he wanted to provide some recognition for the guys nobody notices but who make the star players look good. He even coined the All-Joe motto: “If you work hard, good things will happen … to someone else.”
Villarrial fit that role perfectly. As a blocker, he paved the way for a 1,000-yard rusher each year for the Bears. In 2001 he and his linemates allowed the fewest sacks in the NFL. Despite the anonymity that goes with being an offensive lineman in the NFL, he received the Golden Bear Award, given to the rookie who has perfect attendance in the weight room.
He became a Buffalo Bill in 2004, where he continued the streak he had started in Chicago, opening holes that allowed a 1,000-yard rusher every year he was with the Bills. He was also on the line that gave up the fewest sacks in Buffalo franchise history. He retired from the Bills in 2006, ending a professional career that lasted 11 seasons. Over those 11 seasons he started 148 games.
After retirement he came back to the Johnstown area, taking a job as the offensive coordinator for Central Cambria High School. There, he developed a successful strength and conditioning program for the Red Devils and led the team to two consecutive district title games. Perhaps more importantly, he helped 13 players continue playing at the collegiate level.
In 2009 he moved up to the collegiate coaching ranks, taking on the role of offensive coordinator at St. Francis. The next season he stepped up to the head coaching position. The Red Flash had not been especially impressive in Division I football, and Villarrial knew what he was getting into. His first season as head coach saw St. Francis struggle to a 1-10 record. Six years later he had the team in the FCS playoffs.
He remains as head football coach at St. Francis, where he now is the winningest coach in the school’s history.
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2Patricia Defibaugh and 1 other
In the early 1800s western Pennsylvania was frontier territory, wild and untamed. Abram Stutzman, a local circuit-riding Dunkard minister who had already built four log cabins in and around what is now Johnstown, built a fifth one along the wagon trail near the foot of Laurel Ridge on the Johnstown side.
The setting was ideal. A freshwater spring provided a year-round source of water, making it a reliable watering source for travelers along the trail that is now Menoher Boulevard. There were no other such places along the trail for travelers, and the cabin became a natural rest stop for the weary and “saddle sore.” The open and welcoming nature of both Rev. Stutzman and his wife Sarah soon became well known, and it wasn’t long before not only travelers were stopping, but also people who just wanted a break in their daily life. “Let’s go see the Stutzmans,” became the refrain, and the Stutzmans were only too happy for the visits. Their kitchen never closed, and apparently Sarah knew how to use it. And, of course, there was always that fresh water spring and the pond it created. It was a welcome refresher on a hot day, for human and horse alike.
As a minister, Rev. Stutzman soon saw another use for his pond, and baptisms became a regular event, followed by weddings. The Stutzman daughters would be married inside the cabin, in their own spacious parlor. And the good pastor wasn’t finished. He knew how to read and write, a luxury few of the citizens in the area enjoyed. So, Stutzman took it upon himself to become a teacher, and his home became a school of sorts. For those who couldn’t spare the time to learn, or who didn’t have the desire, they knew who to come to if they needed a letter written or a document explained. And Rev. Stutzman always obliged. Years later, when a public school was built only a half mile away, it seemed only fitting to name it for Stutzman, who was unofficially the first teacher in that area. The Stutzman School was torn down in 2015, replaced by a pharmacy chain.
Sometime in the early 1900s a man named Christopher Palliser purchased the property and stocked the pond with fish. What seemed like a good idea quickly went sour when the fish disappeared. Wild animals enjoyed the feast, along with a local poacher who was only too happy to see the fish all gathered into one place for him to catch. Two local streets surrounding the property today are a reminder of this well-intended man, Christopher Street and Palliser Street.
The Pallisers renovated the old cabin extensively over the years they lived there, covering the outside of the structure with stucco to modernize it. It now looked like the other homes springing up in the area. As the older Pallisers passed away, eventually the family willed the property to Westmont Borough. In 1968 the borough donated the home and surrounding grounds to the Johnstown Arts Associates, a group of artists who used the property for exhibits, classes, and art studios. It became the first permanent home for the Johnstown Allied Artists.
However, for the building to be open to the public, it had to be upgraded to modern safety standards. In the process of installing fire safety improvements the stucco was removed, revealing the original log structure.
The log cabin remains today, along with the pond, on the property of what is now known as the Cambria County Community Arts Center on Menoher Boulevard. It is easily seen while traveling on the upgraded and more modern wagon trail, and provides an outstanding link to our area’s past. The cabin is now the host of the popular Log Cabin Arts Festival, attended by thousands every year from around the country and, according to the folks at CCCAC, from around the world.
Many thanks to the Community Arts Center of Cambria County for providing the background information for this post.
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8Patricia Defibaugh, Sunny Marie and 6 others
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Some of you may recall that, back in June, I posted about Johnstown’s five national historic districts. I did one a day for five days. However, those are not the only national historic districts in our area. There are several more, and today’s post features one of them: the Windber National Historic District, which includes not only Windber Borough, but also the boroughs of Paint and Scalp Level.
This district lies just south of Johnstown in the three towns laid out by Berwind-White Coal Mining Company in 1897 and developed by the company over the next 33 years. The area’s name, Windber, is actually a takeoff from the name Berwind. It is significant because, despite flood damage and the inevitable remodeling, the district retains the look and feel of its original intent, the home for thousands of coal miners and the headquarters of Berwind-White’s most important mining operations. On the highest ground at the north-center portion of the district, an area known as The Hill, sit the former homes of company officials and other professionals. Several of those luxurious homes remain and look much as they did in the early 1900s. South, along Windber’s main streets, were the company headquarters, the railroad and a railroad station, a company store, and commercial and financial buildings. The lower terrainalso housed the company housing, where the miners lived.
Many of the buildings remain but serve different functions today. Berwind-White’s former headquarters, for example, now houses Windber’s municipal offices. The old company store, known to many as the Eureka Department Store, now houses discount stores and specialty shops. The store didn’t always look the way it does now. Built in 1899, it originally was red brick, with a hipped roof. The familiar stucco and English Tudor accents didn’t appear until the period between 1916 and 1924. The old Windber Trust Bank, although now under a different name, still houses a financial institution, a branch of AmeriServ.
Other company-era buildings have been similarly repurposed. The old Leister House Hotel is now the Windber Hotel, the old train station is now the town library, and a business office now occupies the old streetcar station. The Arcadia Theater, written about here just a few days ago, remains as the sole survivor among four theaters that stood along a two-block stretch of Graham Avenue. Buildings that once served as ethnic shops or grocery stores now are used as residences. The town’s largest structure, the old 45-room McNeal Mansion, built in 1909, remains at Cambia Avenue and 13th Street.
The old Windber Hospital has grown and is now the Chan Soon-Shiong Medical Center at Windber, owned by billionaire Doctor Patrick Soon-Shiong. Associated with the medical center are the renowned Joyce Murtha Breast Care Center, the Chan Soon-Shiong Institute of Molecular Medicine, and the Windber Hospice.
Windber’s development began in 1892 when the Wilmore Coal Company, a Berwind-White subsidiary, purchased 30,000 acres of coal-rich property. With the terrain being so hilly and steep, moving the mined coal out of the area was a problem until Berwind-White, with assistance from the Pennsylvania Railroad, built a rail line to St. Michael, where it linked with the PRR’s system. This enabled Berwind-White to open its first coal mine in the Windber area. By 1910 there were 12 more. To oversee this operation, Berwind-White designed the headquarters town of Windber.
Central European immigrants flocked to Windber to work in the mines, and by 1910 nearly 70% of the town’s population was either foreign born or of foreign parentage. Four ethnic groups predominated: Slovaks, Italians, Magyars, and Poles, although there were as many as 25 different ethnic derivations in the immediate Windber area. The miners lived in company houses, shopped at the company store, banked at the company bank, and … well, you get the picture.
Much like the neighborhoods in Johnstown, Windber’s immigrants mingled with their own ethnic group, and neighborhoods became segregated by national origin. A “Little Italy” developed between 21st and 23rd Streets, while the Swedes lived in an area whose official name became, and still is, Stockholm Avenue. The churches and social clubs reflected the nationalities of the neighborhoods. Traditions were maintained through fraternal organizations, which developed into de facto insurance providers. The same organizations became underground union halls, to challenge company controls.
Today, Windber and its environs are no longer a center of coal mining operations. While a few small mines exist, Windber now houses light manufacturing and health-related businesses, and it serves as a bedroom community for those working in Johnstown. The Windber area was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1991.
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3Patricia Defibaugh and 2 others
Windber got its start as a company town for the Berwind-White Coal Company, serving as the headquarters town for the company. The Wilmore Coal Company, a subsidiary of Berwind-White, purchased about 30,000 acres of land that was rich with coal in 1892. To get the coal to market, Berwind-White built a rail line to the Pennsylvania Railroad’s branch at St. Michael to facilitate the shipping of the mined product. This enabled Berwind-White to become a behemoth among area coal companies. From 1911 to 1914 some 90% of the company’s coal came from its mines in the Windber area.
The company was fiercely anti-union, and did everything in its power to maintain control over the workers. Basically, anything a worker needed or wanted would be provided by the company. You want to buy something? Sure, go to the company store and we’ll put it on your tab. And don’t try to shop somewhere else just because you don’t like our prices. We have spies that will report back where you went and what you purchased. The next morning you’ll find a duplicate order of what you just bought. It will be sitting on your porch, and it will come from the company store where you should have bought it in the first place. Don’t worry about paying for it now. We know you just spent a large chunk of your pay on what you just bought, and you can’t afford to pay twice. We’ll just charge your account and take it out of your next paycheck. Don’t even think of doing that again, either, or you won’t have a job.
Workers lived in company houses (shown in an attached photo), banked with the company bank, and got their utilities from the only ones in town: the ones owned by Berwind-White. The town newspaper belonged to the company. Politically, all the town’s important positions were held by company officials. Outside merchants wishing to take advantage of Windber’s boom times were welcomed by the company, despite being competitors with the company store. However, they had to pay a pretty high rent to the company to set up shop in one of the company-owned buildings. When an independent business association formed, it was quickly suppressed by the company.
For entertainment, workers often took their families on a picnic. Of course, it was usually in the company park. Who could afford a horseless carriage to go anyplace else? The new Arcadia Theater was nice. We discussed that here not long ago, and it had good acts. Naturally, it was built and operated by the company. A large clubhouse was also built to house and entertain visiting executives from throughout the corporation. A photo accompanies this post.
Despite all this, Berwind-White was considered one of the better places to work. It could afford modern, mechanized equipment that other companies couldn’t, taking some of the hard labor away from the workers. An immigrant who just came to America and spoke no English didn’t need a lot of experience to operate such modern machinery.
To keep the workers happy, the company also sponsored theatrical, athletic, and recreational events. We already mentioned the Arcadia Theater, and Windber Hospital took care of their medical needs. Despite this, there was friction between the workers and the company. Inevitably, it came to a head in 1906 when the workers walked out on strike. The strike was repeated a few years later. Both will be the topic of tomorrow’s post.
The second strike coincided with an end to the boom times for not only Berwind-White, but also the coal industry in general. Overproduction, competition from alternate fuels, and depletion of the coal resulted in mine closures nationwide, and Berwind-White was no different. The company began selling off its holdings in Pennsylvania and West Virginia, opting to branch out into other ventures, such as health care products, real estate, and other areas. This, of course, reduced the importance of Windber, and ultimately led to a reduction in the prosperity the town had enjoyed.
In 1950 the company began a selloff of its company houses and other properties, and by 1960 nearly all the housing had been purchased by private individuals. Berwind-White closed its last mine in the Windber area in 1962.
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1Judy Champion-Brogan
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As we discussed in earlier posts, the Berwind-White Coal Company controlled Windber, and because most of those who lived in Windber worked for Berwind-White, the company also controlled its employees. With the company being anti-union, the workers had little to say about their working conditions. Inevitably, though, the workers found ways to fight back.
Initially, most of the effort to challenge the company and its policies originated in the churches and fraternal organizations. Clandestine meetings took place in which gripes were aired, and feelings aroused. The company, while not privy to the details of what was happening, knew enough through its spy system to recognize the potential threats to its authority, and took steps to limit the independence of these organizations. Clergy who didn’t support the company from the pulpit faced dismissal. All properties, originally owned by Berwind-White, contained restrictions in the deeds when they were sold. These restrictions were designed to prevent union meetings and similar activity. Large charitable contributions led to favors being returned, and most organizations, including the churches and fraternal groups, saw their boards top heavy with company officials who saw to it that the company’s best interests were not ignored.
As would be expected, friction built up between the company and the workers, and in 1906 the workers saw their opportunity to fight back. In April of that year, the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) sponsored a national coal strike. Despite not being members of the union, 3,000 of the 5,000 miners in Windber joined in. Their grievances included the company’s refusal to recognize the union; their refusal to employ checkweighmen to verify how much tonnage was produced (which determined how much the miners were paid); pay for deadwork, such as shoring up mine roofs; and an eight-hour work day. Berwind-White’s attempts to quiet the discontent with a general wage increase failed, after which the company fought back by bringing in private detectives and extra police. Court injunctions followed, and when they did nothing but fan the flames, striking miners were evicted from their homes, which of course, were rented from the company.
On April 16, 1906 everything fell apart. A peaceful demonstration was in progress outside the jail when nervous sheriff’s deputies opened fire on the crowd, killing five and wounding anther 17. One of the dead was a five-year old boy who was watching the demonstration. Dubbed the “Windber Massacre,” the incident resulted in a mounted contingent of state police coming in to maintain the peace. Workers, likely with a great deal of spousal influence, lost their enthusiasm for the strike, and returned to work. Ringleaders, as well as some of the more vocal supporters for the strike, were fired. Others were blacklisted. Feelings were not helped when the UMWA settled its national strike without including anything for the Berwind-White workers.
For 16 years, little changed in the Berwind-White mines. Then, in 1922, the UMWA waged another national strike. Five days after the UMWA walked out, nearly every mine in Somerset County was shut down when the workers joined in. Berwind-White mines were completely shut down, and the 1906 grievances were brought out once again. This time, however, the miners added one more: a demand that a 40% wage reduction that had been imposed a year earlier be rescinded. The company agreed to rescind the wage cut, but stood their ground on everything else. The miners responded by organizing three UMWA locals, the first in Windber’s history.
Predictably, this was followed by firings and evictions, affecting thousands of people. Strikebreakers were brought in to re-open the mines, protected by extra police. Court injunctions limited the workers’ ability to picket. The company store suspended credit and demanded immediate settling of any open accounts. Workers who had been evicted were taken into homes that were owned by other workers, and tent colonies were set up outside some of the mines. The UMWA assisted the non-union workers by renting any available space that could house a worker, including chicken coops and barns. Despite all this, many workers spent the winter of 1922-23 living outside.
When the national strike was settled in August, the Windber miners found themselves excluded once again and remained on strike for another 12 months. The union would not be a factor in the Windber mines until 1933 when the National Industrial Recovery Act and the New Deal restored prosperity to the American workplace.
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1Patricia Defibaugh
Considering the ethnic diversity we have here in Johnstown, it would seem inevitable that some kind of festival built around polka music would take hold at some point. In 1997, that’s exactly what happened. While I am not particularly a fan of the genre, I am aware that many people in our area grew up listening to polkas, and the local event is a major component in preserving a type of music that traces its origins to the early 1800s in Bohemia, now the Czech Republic.
From what I’ve been able to gather, the word polka came from the Czech word ‘pulka,’ meaning ‘half’. It was applied to the dance phrase for “half-step,” referring to the dance method of lightly stepping from one foot to the other. The polka showed up in Prague ballrooms, then spread to Paris. It became so popular in Paris that critics referred to the phenomenon as ‘polkamania.’
From Paris it swept across Europe, and from Europe it reached the United States by the late 1840s. It was brought to Johnstown by immigrants who moved to the area to take advantage of employment in the coal mines that dotted the area. By the mid-20th century, Polish Americans had adopted the polka as their ‘national’ dance.
Fast forward to 1997, and the first Johnstown PolkaFest. For the first year or two it was mostly a local event. Then word got out. Billed as a family-friendly event, polka fans now come from across Pennsylvania, as well as Ohio, Michigan, and New York. And they don’t just come to listen, they come to dance. So many come, in fact, that Fifth Avenue and Power Street are closed to traffic, to accommodate the crowds.
Of course, there are polka festivals in other parts of the United States, too, so why is the Johnstown PolkaFest so highly rated? Well, for starters, it features award-winning polka groups. Grammy winner types. You won’t see that at many venues. Not without paying a hefty price, anyway. Not so at the local festival, co-hosted every year by the Convention and Visitors Bureau and St. Mary’s Byzantine Catholic Church in the Cambria City neighborhood. It’s free here.
Several of the groups that appear say the local PolkaFest is their favorite event, and that Johnstown is their favorite city to perform in. The reception these bands get when they are here probably has a lot to do with that.
While many nationally and internationally known acts are featured (organizers say PolkaFest features the best lineup of Polish and Slovenian bands in the world), local polka bands also are part of the festival. The fact that both Polish and Slovenian bands are featured is, in itself, very unusual. As a non-polka fan, I was never aware that there was a difference until that difference was explained to me. Apparently, that difference is what makes the local festival so unique. Most polka festivals usually feature one style or the other.
In addition to the bands, there are ethnic foods, craft vendors, and even a polka church service. One of the sponsors is St. Mary’s, after all, so why not? Held the weekend following Memorial Day, PolkaFest serves as the unofficial start of festival season, and few cities love their festivals more than Johnstown.
The festival is concentrated around the St. Mary’s church, utilizing the church’s pavilion and social hall, as well as a gigantic tent. Parking and admission are both free, and not many festivals of this caliber can say that. Maybe that’s because the Johnstown PolkaFest isn’t just a festival. It’s heritage.
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2Lindy Berkebile Yutzy and 1 other
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Brigadier General James Stewart became the first major American movie star to enlist in the United States Army to fight in World War II. After first being rejected for low weight in Nov, 1940, he successfully enlisted in Feb, 1941. As an experienced amateur pilot, he reported for induction as a private in the Air Corps on Mar 22, 1941. Soon to be 33 years old, he was over the age limit for Aviation Cadet training—the normal path of commissioning for pilots, navigators and bombardiers—and therefore applied for an Air Corps commission as both a college graduate and a licensed commercial pilot. Stewart received his commission as a second lieutenant on Jan 1, 1942.
He appealed to his commander and was sent to England as part of the 445th Bombardment Group to pilot a B-24 Liberator, in Nov 1943, and was based initially at RAF Tibenham before moving to RAF Old Buckenham.
He was promoted to major following a mission to Ludwigshafen, Germany, on Jan 7, 1944. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for actions as deputy commander of the 2d Bombardment Wing, and the French Croix de Guerre with palm and the Air Medal with three oak leaf clusters. Stewart was promoted to full colonel on Mar 29, 1945, becoming one of the few Americans to ever rise from private to colonel in only four years.
He would eventually transfer to the reserves of the United States Air Force after the Army Air Forces split from the Army, in 1947.
On July 23, 1959, he was promoted to brigadier general, becoming the highest-ranking actor in American military history. During the Vietnam War, he flew as a non-duty observer in a B-52 on an Arc Light bombing mission in Feb 1966. He served for 27 years, officially retiring from the Air Force on May 31, 1968, when he reached the mandatory retirement age of 60. Upon his retirement, he was awarded the United States Air Force Distinguished Service Medal.
The Giant Killer book & page honors these incredible war heroes making sure their stories of valor and sacrifice are never forgotten. God Bless our Vets!
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Today the Jennerstown Speedway is a state-of-the-art track for motorsports, with a polymer based asphalt track surface and computer-designed banked turns, but it wasn’t always so modern. It began in the 1920s as a half mile oval dirt track, like most tracks were, and was perfectly flat, with no banked turns. Known then as the Jenners Fairgrounds, it hosted ‘big car’ races (today’s sprint cars) and attracted all the top local drivers.
In 1953 a smaller, quarter mile, track was built on the infield, and the larger track was abandoned until 1967, when it was rebuilt and used only for a short time before it was closed again, blaming poor track conditions. During this time the track featured outlaw and Penn Western Racing Association sanctioned races.
In 1967 local businessmen John Frambaugh, Sam Turrillo, Bill Philson, John Philson, Doc Whitney, Harry Horne and Piney Lasky purchased the grounds and completely rebuilt the track. It was quickly recognized as one of the fastest half-mile dirt ovals in the nation, and for the next 20 years it hosted top-notch winged open wheel sprint car and dirt late model races.
Eventually, Laskey remained as sole owner. At that point the track was upgraded with paving, bringing asphalt racing to the area. By then, the old Heidelberg Raceway had been demolished, making Jennerstown the main asphalt track in Western Pennsylvania. At the same time, Laskey improved the concession areas and the grandstand, affiliated the track with NASCAR, and brought in major sanctioned events. When he died unexpectedly in 1994 his son Stanley, Jr. took over for the next five seasons. In 2000, Stanley sold the track to the speedway’s late model champion Steve Peles and Bob Brooks, founder of Hooters.
Peles and Brooks kept the track for only three years, selling it in 2003 to Dave Wheeler. Wheeler repaved the track in 2004 with a $350,000 polymer-based racing surface, and Jennerstown hosted NASCAR sanctioned races until 2008, when the track closed and remained closed until 2013.
A track Hall of Fame opened in 2005 with the induction of six members. Another class of eight was honored in 2006, with inductions suspended when the track closed in 2013. There were no inductions until 2014 after the track reopened, and today there are 40 inductees.
In early 2019 Wheeler sold the track to the partnership of John Morocco, Richard Pologruto, and Larry Hemminger. Races have been run on a regular schedule since then, and are set to begin for the coming season on April 17.
The photos show what the speedway looks like today compared to what it looked like several years ago.
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7You, Patricia Defibaugh and 5 others
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In May of 1861, 9-year-old John Lincoln “Johnny” Clem ran away from his home in Newark, Ohio, to join the Union Army, but found the Army was not interested in signing on a 9-year-old boy when the commander of the 3rd Ohio Regiment told him he “wasn’t enlisting infants,” and turned him down. Clem tried the 22nd Michigan Regiment next, and its commander told him the same. Determined, Clem tagged after the regiment, acted out the role of a drummer boy, and was allowed to remain. Though still not regularly enrolled, he performed camp duties and received a soldier’s pay of $13 a month, a sum collected and donated by the regiment’s officers.
The next April, at Shiloh, Clem’s drum was smashed by an artillery round and he became a minor news item as “Johnny Shiloh, The Smallest Drummer”. A year later, at the Battle Of Chickamauga, he rode an artillery caisson to the front and wielded a musket trimmed to his size. In one of the Union retreats a Confederate officer ran after the cannon Clem rode with, and yelled, “Surrender you damned little Yankee!” Johnny shot him dead. This pluck won for Clem national attention and the name “Drummer Boy of Chickamauga.”
Clem stayed with the Army through the war, served as a courier, and was wounded twice. Between Shiloh and Chickamauga he was regularly enrolled in the service, began receiving his own pay, and was soon-after promoted to the rank of Sergeant. He was only 12 years old. After the Civil War he tried to enter West Point but was turned down because of his slim education. A personal appeal to President Ulysses S. Grant, his commanding general at Shiloh, won him a 2nd Lieutenant’s appointment in the Regular Army on 18 December 1871, and in 1903 he attained the rank of Colonel and served as Assistant Quartermaster General. He retired from the Army as a Major General in 1916, having served an astounding 55 years.
General Clem died in San Antonio, Texas on 13 May 1937, exactly 3 months shy of his 86th birthday, and is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
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our and a half months after the Battle of Gettysburg, President Abraham Lincoln joined a large crowd to dedicate the Soldiers’ National Cemetery on the afternoon of November 19, 1863. After the delivering of prayers and the playing of songs, the crowd listened intently to a nearly two-hour speech by the orator, Edward Everett. Then, following a hymn, “The Consecration Chant,” President Lincoln stepped forward to deliver the Dedicatory Remarks. In just a matter of 271 words, Lincoln said everything that a broken nation needed to hear. He began by invoking the historical memory of the United States, addressed the conflict, then turned his focus to the present, and in many ways to us. For a speech that Lincoln predicted few would “long remember,” the Gettysburg Address should speak to us all today.
“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
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Another notable person from The Greater Johnstown Metropolitan Area: “Windber, PA Native Son” Johnny Weissmuller.
Partially from Wikipedia & Johnstown Tribune-Democrat, et al, thank you all!
Janos (Johann) Peter (Johnny) Weissmuller (June 2, 1904 – January 20, 1984)
Just to put one major fact at the top of this post: Johnny Weissmuller and his family moved to Windber, PA and the **Greater Johnstown **area when Johnny was 7 months old and the family moved to Chicago 3 years later.
Johnny was only 3.5 years old when his family left Windber.
This FB Post and one’s like it are not new to people from the Johnstown Area.
I have seen many comments on past Posts where folks have made many, many claims of swimming with Johnny Weissmuller or learning how to swim from him while he lived in Windber/Johnstown.
He was 3.5 years old when he left Windber and he DID NOT learn to swim nor was he old enough to have taught anyone anything in the short time that his family lived in Windber.
Weissmuller did not even take up swimming until he contracted Polio at the age of 9 (after moving to Chicago) and found swimming to be a good exercise to stave off the debilitating effects of that disease. It appears to have worked.
Having said that…he DID consider Windber to be his “Hometown”.
The Associated Press declared “Windber, PA Native Son” Johnny Weissmuller the greatest swimmer of the first half of the 20th Century and he was!!
Johnny Weissmuller’s family moved to Windber, PA in 1905 where they lived with family until moving to Chicago in 1909 but Johnny claimed and felt like Windber was always his hometown and stated same when he registered for the Olympics:
Maybe there was a good, serious, legal reason for his claim to be from Windber?
It has been reported and appears to be most likely true, that Johnny Weissmuller used his younger brother’s (Peter who was born in Cambria County, USA) Birth Certificate to register for the Olympics since he was not born in the U.S. which at that time was a requirement.
“I’ve never forgotten Windber,” Weissmuller said before his February 1967 induction into Cambria County War Memorial Hall of Fame.
“When I meet people from Pennsylvania, I always tell them I am from Windber. This (his induction) is the biggest thrill I have ever had in my life, and this includes the events when I won the Olympic Titles in 1924 and 1928 and was presented medals by the Queen of the Netherlands.”
Johnny Weissmuller was born in Freidorf, in the Hungarian part of Austria-Hungary (now part of Romania) and was an Austro-Hungarian-born American competition Swimmer and Actor.
He was well known for playing Edgar Rice Burroughs’ ape man Tarzan in films of the 1930s and 1940s and for having one of the best competitive swimming records of the 20th Century.
Weissmuller was one of the World’s ***fastest swimmers, ***after contracting Polio at age 9 he began swimming as an exercise to combat Polio…an incredible achievement, I know having had Polio as a youngster and guess what?
The Polio Virus never leaves your body and it can and in my case did come back. I am now in a wheelchair.
In the 1920s, Johnny won **five Olympic Gold Medals for Swimming and one Bronze Medal for Water Polo.
He was the*** first*** to break the one minute barrier for the 100-Meter Freestyle, and the first to swim the 440-yard Freestyle under five minutes.
He won fifty-two U.S. National Championships, set more than 50 World Records (Freestyle and Backstroke), and he was undefeated in Official Competition for the entirety of his competitive career!!
Let me repeat that, Johnny Weissmuller was UNDEFEATED for the ENTIRETY of HIS COMPETITIVE (Swimming) CAREER!!
After retiring from competitions, he became the sixth actor to portray Tarzan, a role he played in twelve feature films. Dozens of other actors have also played Tarzan, but Weissmuller is by far the best known. Weissmuller’s distinctive Tarzan Yell (which he came up with) is still often used in films in his legacy.
Weissmuller was married five times: Band and Club Singer Bobbe Arnst (married 1931, divorced 1933); Actress Lupe Vélez (married 1933, divorced 1939); Beryl Scott (married 1939, divorced 1948); Allene Gates (married 1948, divorced 1962); and Maria Baumann (from 1963 until his death in 1984).
With his third wife, Beryl, he had three children, Johnny Weissmuller, Jr. (1940–2006), Wendy Anne Weissmuller (born 1942), and** Heidi Elizabeth Weissmuller** (1944–1962), who was killed in a car crash. He also had a Stepdaughter with Baumann, Lisa Weissmuller-Gallagher.
If you would like more information about “Windber, PA Native Son” Johnny Weissmuller, click on the link below:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Weissmuller
57Mary Kohler, Lindy Berkebile Yutzy and 55 others
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