The "The Building Of Our Nation's 1st Highway" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading about the birth of America's first highway known as the Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike and later renamed the Lincoln Highway.  

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shares in the highway.

Ground was first broken in 1792 for a roadway that was touted as the first "engineered" road in the nation.  Engineered meant that it was surveyed, graded and paved with packed gravel stones for its entire length which was from the town of Columbia, Pennsylvania, which is located at the western most terminus, to Girard Avenue in the Parkside neighborhood of Philadelphia.  Its total length was 73.33 miles, but was 62 miles from Lancaster to Philadelphia.  The new road was too expensive for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to build so it was built by a private company known as The Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike Road Company.  The cost was $465,000 or about $9.5 million today.  Shares of the "Company of the Lancaster and Turnpike Road" were first issued on March 16, 1795.

A toll stop leading to the Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike.

 I found a listing for shares in the Phila- delphia & Lancaster Turnpike Company dated May 24th, 1796 that were listed for $100 and could be paid in three monthly installments.  The new turnpike had "Toll Gates" that were placed approximately every 10 miles, but many driving on the road took side roads to circumvent the gates.  People who did so were at the time known as "shunpikes."  

This photograph shows the highway looking west in 1929.

There were those that were exempt from paying tolls such as anyone who live along the turnpike, anyone passing from one part of a farm to another, anyone on their way to a funeral, anyone on their way to church, anyone engaged in military service or on their way to vote in an election.  Eventually the turnpike was absorbed into the transcontinental route known as the Lincoln Highway or in Lancaster County as Route 30.  

The tourist attraction known as the Amish Farm and House.

The highway was formal- ly dedi- cated to President Abraham Lincoln with several statues of Lincoln placed along its eventual total 3,389 mile length.  Along the highway in Lancaster County sat the SkyVue Drive-in Theater which opened on Tuesday, May 23, 1950.  It was one of my favorite places to allegedly watch an outdoor movie.  It eventually was torn down to make room for  Lancaster's first Outlet Mall in 1985.  

The Highway today.

The mall became competition for the tourist dollars with the Amish Farm & House along what by this time was known as Route 30 instead of the Lancaster to Philadelphia Highway.  Today Tanger Outlet Center sits in the spot once occupied by the Outlet Mall.  If you have ever driven the once gravel stone turnpike, now paved Lincoln Highway, or Route 30, you probably have no idea what it must have looked like when it first traversed Lancaster County.  Hard to think it was the very first turnpike or highway in our nation.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "A Snake In A Fish Body" Story

My dad and I are fishing along the Elk River, Maryland.

It was an ordinary day.  August of 1958 and I'm sitting on the dock of my Aunt Doris' Elk River cottage in Maryland with my dad.  I'm fishing while my dad is enjoying the view up and down the Elk River.  Then, something grabbed the worm and took off.  About five minutes later I pulled an ugly, slimey, snakelike American eel onto the dock.  Fish are tough enough to get off the hook, but an eel is almost impossible since they are hard to grab hold of to remove the hook.  

I'm removing a catfish from my line.

Add about twenty years to that and I am once again fishing on the Elk River with my friend Gary and our children.  One of us hooks a Channel Catfish which is about two feet in length and perhaps eight to ten pounds.  This time I remove the ugly looking fish with a deeply-forked caudal fin and remove it from the hook.  Place it in the water tank we have in the boat to take back to our cottage for Gary's wife to skin and eat.  Stories like this have been happening to many while fishing along the Chesapeake and Delaware Rivers for years.  But, today there is one additional fish that is causing quite a stir in rivers on Maryland's Eastern Shore.  Seems the fish known as the Snakehead, or to many as  "Frankenfish", has infiltrated the waters of the rivers and they are killing many other species or eating the food of other fish, forcing them to move to other locations.  

The Snakehead fish or "Frankenfish"

I have never caught a Snakehead, but they look really ugly with a mouthful of crooked teeth and a snarly look on their face.  There used to be plenty of perch, crappie and catfish in the rivers, but their population has declined since the snakehead, which grows to 3 feet long, either eats them, eats their food or muscles them out of their preferred habitat.  And, to top that, they are eating the eels as well as shad.  Disturbing studies have been done that is worrying fish management groups.  The river that flows along the western border of Lancaster County, the Susquehanna, does not have a problem with the snakefish...yet!  But, it may be only a matter of time.  So, how did these fish find their way into the waters of the rivers and streams that I have enjoyed since childhood?  

Another view of the Snakehead fish.

Originally the fish was brought into the country from Africa and Asia for sale in live fish  markets.  Some evidently escaped the markets and found their way into the waters of many rivers in the country.  And, they are prolific breeders with a female fish releasing up to 15,000 eggs in two years.  It can grow to about 3 feet in length and up to 18 pounds.  They can move over land for short distances by wriggling motions and live outside of water for several days.  It is a freshwater fish that cannot tolerate salinity in excess of 10 parts per million.  On the Susquehanna River, it is hoped the four hydroelectric dams will keep snakeheads from moving too far north.  Last year in Maryland there was a snakehead "derby" to try and lower the snakefish population.  And, just in case you may want to have one for your home aquarium,  they are illegal to own!  My fishing days are more than likely over so I am not affected by the fish that has plenty of teeth.  Can't imagine how hard it must be to get one of them off a hook.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Return Of The Flipboard To It's Rightful Place!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Visiting with a former high school student of mine who volunteers at The Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania in Strasburg, PA.  Hadn’t seen George for close to  50 years and the reunion was…well fantastic.  Tough to catch up with 50 years of life, but we had a great time talking as well as viewing the displays at the museum. 

The clipboard at the 30th Street Station in Philadelphia.

The main reason I had planned a trip to Strasburg was to take a photograph of the recently moved flipboard that had been delivered from Philadelphia’s 30th Street Railroad Station a few months ago. Meeting George happened to be an unexpected surprise.  Noticed his name a few weeks ago in the newspaper for winning the “Volunteer of the Year” award at the museum and found he would be at the museum when I planned to visit for my photograph. 

Preparing to move the clipboard to Strasburg, PA.

George showed me the flipboard and explained what they had done to it over the past few weeks.  Did a total cleaning of the board, which removed about 50 years of scum and haze from the numbers and letters and brought it back to life once again.  Each individual number or letter has multiple faces that could be shown, so the work was very tedious.  He said he believes the cleaning is just about complete and it will be ready for the public soon and a metal railing will be put in front of it. 

Click on this image and you will see how each letter and
number is split in half which allows them to be changed.
The new proposed board would be electronic and not
in need of letters such as these.  As they change they
creating a clacking noise that is familiar to customers.

I just assumed it would be working again, but did not ask.  The iconic, clacking 70’s era board has been viewed by millions over it’s lifetime.  And, it was supposed to be retired and replaced by a blinding blue-light digital monstrosity when renovations are complete at the Philadelphia railroad station.  Well, that didn’t sit well with many who visit the station on a daily basis.  Seems U.S. Representative Brendan Boyle was asked to help keep the board as it always was so he telephoned railroad CEO Richard Anderson and urged him to keep the popular display board at the center of the station’s gigantic waiting room. 

This will be the new home of the clipboard for a few years.
Fencing will be placed in front to prevent people from touching it. 

Rep. Boyle was pleasantly surprised by Mr Anderson’s response that they will try to retain the sign in some form, if not make it the main flipboard once again.  The board provided travelers with details about track locations and delays since shortly after Amtrak was formed in 1971.  Some times new technology may be for the best, but in this case keeping a renovated board will be a sentimental favorite for many who travel daily through the station.  The main reason they had planned to change the flipboard is because Italy’s Solari Company, maker of the board years ago, no longer makes replacement parts.  New electromechanical displays are run by computers.  But, the clacking noise of the changing flipboard numbers and letters would be missed.  Perhaps the board I just photographed will someday be returned to its proper location in the train station and make most everyone happy again.  And, my visit with George was an added pleasure for me during my visit.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Former Student Wins Volunteer Of The Year!" Story

The Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania

It was an ordinary day.  Standing inside the front door of The Railroad Museum of Pennsyl- vania in Strasburg, Pennsyl- vania waiting to see George Swartz.  My story began December 13 of this past year when I read an article in the Lancaster newspaper titled "Railroad Museum of Pa. honors its top volunteer.  Story about George Swartz who is a Lancaster native who currently lives in Lititz and was recently selected by the Friends of the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania board of directors as the volunteer of the year.  He was picked from more than 150 active volunteers.  Quite an honor!  George spent 35 years as a corporate pilot for Armstrong World Industries and is now a regular volunteer at the museum, spending much of his time installing a model train layout located in the museum's second floor gallery.  The more I read, the more I wondered if I might have had George as a student years ago.  I remembered a George Swartz who I had in my Graphic Arts class who one day asked if I would like to a ride in an airplane with him.  He was trying to get his pilot's license and needed so many hours in the air.  All I had to do was pay for the gas.  Mike, the fellow whom I work with during the summer doing the in-house printing for the Manheim Township School District, where we both taught years ago, has a daughter who works at the Museum so Mike asked her to ask George if he recognized my name.  

The museum as seen from a catwalk over the tracks.

You bet!  So, I'm standing inside the door of the train museum, getting directions to the second floor to meet with George.  The elevator door opened and there was George, slightly older than I remember, but with the same smile I remembered from 1970 when he graduated from Manheim Township High School.  We spent the next hour reminiscing and catching up on each others lives and then he showed me some of the HO miniature railroad train yard that he is working on at present.  It had been moved from the first floor to the second floor and placed in a much smaller space, so he is in the process of making changes so most everything can fit once again.  He asked me about teachers he had during his high school career and I questioned him if he had a sister named Sharon.  Seems two of my traveling friends as well as classmates in the same high school where I ended up teaching, Jere and Sue Herr, asked me a few days before my visit with George, to ask George if he had a sister by the name of Sharon who ran around with them in high school.  I, too, knew Sharon, but mainly as a classmate.  George smiled and looked at me and said he also remembered Jere and Sue from years before when they visited his sister.  He told me he graduated from the Piedmont Aerospace Institute after high school with degrees in Airframe and Powerplant Technician.  During his career as a corporate pilot he achieved more than 74,000 hours of flight safety.  The knowledge learned in his professional life is now serving him well in his life as a volunteer.  He told me his interest in model trains began at the age of 4 when he received an American Flyer miniature train.  

LDub with former student George Swartz.

George will be formally recognized as the Museum volunteer of the year in Harrisburg, PA in April.  A well deserved award!  He ushered me around the museum and answered all my questions about the display which is immense.  I ended my visit with George when he showed me the large Flipboard that used to be in the Amtrak 30th Street Train Station in Philadelphia.  It was removed and brought to Strasburg.  It looked beautiful, but will be returned to the station after they have finished renovations.  Said my thank you and goodbye with the promise of returning once again to visit with him.  I cherish all my friendships, but friendships with former students seem to be special, especially when they thank you for what you did for them as a high school teacher.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

PS - George later sent me an email telling me he pulled out an old logbook and reported we went flying August 7, 1969 right after receiving his Private Pilot Certificate in a Cesena 150 n8337J.  I was one of his first passengers.  A great honor for me!

The "Coffee With A Bit Of A Twist: Part II" Story

Newspaper advertisement from
Thursday, July 25, 1912.

It was an ordinary day.  Staring back at me from my computer screen is an advertisement from "The Daily New Era" (Lancaster Pennsylvania) that appeared on Thursday, July 25, 1912.  It declared "Have you tried Mack's Pennsylvania Special" and featured a steaming cup of coffee.  So, just who is this Mack and how good is his coffee.  "Mack, the Coffee Man" was founded by Horace Mack in 1895 when he opened a coffee firm with a roasting and blending operation on N. Mary Street in downtown Lancaster.  The original business sold coffee and tea from horse-drawn wagons distributed from its 617-619 N. Jefferson Street warehouse.  In 1904 the company moved to larger quarters at 617-619 N. Jefferson Street on the other side of town.  It is the same warehouse I had a chance to visit a few days ago and talk to David and his wife who now live in the stable part of the old "Mack, the Coffee Man" warehouse.  

An old newspaper photograph showing "Mack's, the
Coffee Man" business at 617-619 N. Jefferson Street. 

In 1929 Horace's son J. Edward Mack took over the business and turned it into a larger enterprise that supplied coffee, teak, spices and hot chocolate to restaurants and hotels along the East Coast.  The business remained in that location until 1950 when it moved it's headquarters to 42 N. Water Street.  In 1967 the company was sold to the Brooke Bond Tea Co. of London, England, but Mack continued to serve as the general manager of the new firm.  

Recent photo I took of the location on North Water Street.

That location finally closed on June 1, 1972.  The large painted sign on the building still tells the story of where the business was located at one time on Water Street.  The property was donated to Lancaster's Fulton Opera House and is used to construct and store stage equipment and sets.  It is hard to find information about the now defunct business unless you access Lancaster Newspaper's Archives pages.  To do so you must subscribe to either the online edition or print edition of LNP.  

One of the "Penn Dutch Girl" menu
signs.  My host David owns this sign.

Well, it was about 20 years ago that a cache of advertising placards were discovered which were known as the "Penn Dutch Girl" menu signs.  These signs were from the early 1930's and were framed and hung in some of Lancaster County's restaurants.  My recent visit with David gave me a chance to see one of the signs.  The art-deco sign features a waitress in the center of the sign which lists offerings from the restaurant or diner.  "Mack, the Coffee Man" reached its peak during WWII when the company processed as much as a million pounds of coffee a year such as the Commonwealth, the Old State Capitol, Mack's Hit the Spot and the Pennsylvania Special.  Most sold for 25 to 35 cents a pound.  The blend known as The Pennsylvania Special was served on the Pennsylvania Railroad.  Big signs on the back of the train declared "Pennsylvania coffee by Mack, the Coffee Man."  

The sign telling of the J. Edward Mack Scout Reservation.

J. Edward Mack was also the co-owner and secretary-treasurer of the Lancaster Stockyard Inn which still exists today, serving some of the finest steaks in South-eastern Pennsylvania.  Edward had been a Boy Scout since 1910 and was the first Eagle Scout in Lancaster County.  

This is what the site at 617-619 N. Jefferson Street
looks like today.  The stable I visited is to the left.

In later life he purchased a 1,040 acre plot of woodland to the north of Lititz, PA in Brickerville which he donated to the Boy Scouts.  Today it is known as the J. Edward Mack Scout Reservation.  The "Mack, the Coffee Man" may not be a part of life today in Lancaster, but a piece of it lives on in the ephemera that remains.  The Lancaster Intelligencer Journal published the obituary of J. Edward Mack on August 26, 1985.  He died at the age of 84.  You can read part of the obituary from the newspaper below.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The founder of the "Mack, the Coffee Man" coffee business in Lancaster, PA on left.

Another neat sign owned by David.

Newspaper clippings from the collection of David.

Hope you can read this obituary from J. Edward Mack.

The "Coffee With A Bit Of A Twist: Part I" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Just left the home of David and his wife who live in the 600 block of Jefferson Street in the city of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  Spent close to half-an-hour with them, kinda by mistake.  But, before I tell you more about my visit with David, I should tell you what led up to the unexpected visit.  All began January 1st when I opened my morning newspaper to read "The Scribbler" column.  "The Scribbler" happens to be a retired newspaper columnist named Jack Brubaker.  Even thought he is retired, he still composes a weekly column of folklore and Lancaster County history while answering letters written to him about happenings and events in the Lancaster area.  

Turned onto N. Jefferson from E. Frederick in Lancaster.

I love his column of quirky information and when he retired a few years ago I feared he would stop writing the column.  Never happened, luckily.  He recently answered a question from a reader about the "Mack, the Coffee Man" who ran a business in Lancaster beginning in the late 1890s.  After a few years the company needed a larger building and moved to the 600 block of North Jefferson Street in Lancaster city.  

The "Mack, the Coffee Man" building next door to the
garage where I parked and where David and his wife live.

Just so happens that is where I met David today.  I found the building that held the "Mack, the Coffee Man" Company and pulled in front of a nearby garage to take a few photos to share.  As I pulled my camera to my face I saw another car that wanted to get into the garage I had just parked in front of a minute before.  Lowered my camera, waved to him and got back into my car to move it.  

Behind David's fireplace are rings which keep the
horses, that lived here at one time, at bay.

When I had moved the car I walked back and met David who happened to live in what at one time was the stable  where "Mack, the Coffee Man" kept their horses which pulled their coffee wagons.  What a lucky turn of events it was for me.  He offered to show me through his beautiful home and the rings on the wall where the horses were hitched at one time as well as the pulley that was used to retrieve hay from the upper floor to feed the horses.  

On the second floor, in a space that is
now his office, was a winch that at one
time was used to transport hay from
the upper floor to the horses below.

Also had many souvenirs from the "Mack, the Coffee Man" era which he shared with me.  A few I had seen in the Lancaster newspaper's archives files, but he also had a few I had not seen before.  During my search for information on "Mack, the Coffee Man", I  Googled "Mack, the Coffee Man" and found very little except the recent column written by Jack for the newspaper.  In the newspaper story, Jack suggested using the newspaper's archives.  I did just that and found quite a few stories, one dated August 18, 1910.  The story told about Wall Street paying tribute to the owner of "Mack, the Coffee Man" as being a pioneer in the coffee business in Lancaster County.  It told of the variety of brands of coffee that he had created and being an outstanding businessman.  

Hanging from a first-floor wall is this original neat sign.

Well, my visit today with David and his wife was both lucky as well as very interesting.  His house is amazing with working antique plumbing fixtures as well as a variety of fabulous guitars that he had on his wall.  Oh, yeah!  Forgot to tell you that David is a musician who still entertains in Lancaster city.  May have to take in show or two in the future to thank him once again for his hospitality.  The second half of my story will follow tomorrow, so check in to see how coffee filled the cups of Lancasterains for ages.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

Large, framed sign hangs from a wall in his home.

Another sign that may have been found in an restaurant in Lancaster, PA.

Three more items from David's collection.  A small type-high engraving that may have
been used at the newspaper office for ads for the business, a large circle that is metal, but
he nor I know what it may have been used for and a 12" ruler from Mack The Coffee Man.

The "Perspectives On The Afterlife" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Hanging some lighted icicles along the front of our garage to brighten the place in anticipation of the Christmas holiday.  When I finished I needed a few large staples or clips to hold the electric cord against the side of our garage door opening.  

A memory from my dad.

Found the bottle of staples that I brought home with me when my father died eight years ago and I had to clean up his basement work area.  The bottle is one of the few items that I still have that are a reminder of my dad.  Another vivid memory is of my dad as he lay in his bed at the retirement community known as Moravian Manor with a young man by his side talking with him.  That young man, who was about 50 years my dad's junior, was Rev. Tom Purdy who was a member at St. James Episcopal church where we all were members.  Tom was summoned to dad's bedside and as I listened from the hallway, I heard my dad ask Tom what he could expect to happen when he died.  My dad, as well as all of his family, were Christians and he was anxious as to what he could expect in the very near future. Tom talked to dad about the Bible verse, John 3:16.  The verse from the New Testament tells you that "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believed in him shall not perish, but have eternal life."  The "eternal life" to which the verse refers is the Christian version of heaven, a good place populated by God, his angels and the souls of the faithful.  Those that believe that Jesus is the one, true God, ascent to heaven after they die; the souls of those who do not believe are cast into the Christian version of hell; a fiery pit of despair.  Dad wanted to know if his brother, who died in an automobile accident when dad was only six, would be there waiting for him.  Some of what Rev. Purdy was telling dad was hard to hear from a distance, but I'm sure dad was happy with the response for after Tom left, I went back in his room and he had this peaceful look about him.  Wasn't long after that he died with mom, who was also a resident at Moravian Manor in Lititz, Pennsylvania, by his side.  Shortly after, I received a call and before long I was with her as we sat next to dad.   So, what do you think happens to you when you die?  I recently read an article that tries to explain what the four main religions: Christianity, Judaism, Islam and Buddhism believe happens to you when you die.   A few other items that some Christians believe is that you have to be baptized  before you can reach heaven and that after death a soul must wait in an intermediary space, known as purgatory, for purification before traveling on to heaven. Some Christians also believe in the reincarnation of your soul in another body.  As far as Judaism, one local rabbi in Lancaster, says that many are content with the knowledge that they are not going to know until they get there, if there's a "there" (heaven) to which they ascend.  Some Jews contend that a Messiah is coming, and that the dead will be resurrected and stand in judgement before the Messiah in Jerusalem.  Islam conceives of life as a proving ground for the afterlife and anyone who has done an atom's weight of ill will also face its consequences.  Upon death the soul leaves the body and experiences an intermediary processional of reward and punishment before a final judgment day.  Buddhism focuses on compassion and composure in life.  With respect to death, the standard terminology doesn't really apply to Buddhism.  Instead, Buddhists believe in the immortality of the mind.  Instead of an afterlife, the belief is in the perpetual refinement of the mind across time in a continuous series of lives.  Will any of us ever be immortal?  Will we ever know until it happens?  No matter what religion we believe in or if we may be an athiest, death is inevitable.  And, will we all spend it the same way?  Are these questions for another lifetime?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Story Of The 'We Are...Penn State' Motto: Part II" Story

It was an ordinary day. My story yesterday told the story of Wally Triplett who was one of two Negro (I use Negro rather than African American or black, since that is what he preferred to be called) players who played for the Penn State Nittany Lions in the late 1940s.  Their team had been invited to play in the 1948 Cotton Bowl, but the Cotton Bowl, which is played in Dallas, Texas, didn't allow Negroes to participate since they were a segregated state at the time.  They asked Penn State to come to Dallas without Wally and his teammate Dennie Hoggard.  The players took a vote and voted unanimously that the entire team would go or they would stay home.  They declared that "We are Penn State" and wouldn't go without their teammates.  The Cotton Bowl relented, with the approval of Southern Methodist University, their opponent in the game, but the two Negro players weren't allowed to sleep in the same hotel as their white teammates, so the entire team stayed at the nearby Dallas Air Naval Training Base.  The 1948 Cotton Bowl was the first interracial football game at the Cotton Bowl in Texas.  During their stay in Dallas, the team found a nearby nightclub and decided to make a visit...with Wally.  The owner said, "We ain't never had no n---- in here, but you come on."  The game ended in a 13-13 tie.  This all happened 17 years before Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech.  Wally's last visit to Beaver Stadium was in 2018 when he visited with current coach James Franklin and made a documentary called "We Are".  He died November 8, 2018. An historical marker is outside Beaver Stadium near the museum entrance telling about Triplett and his accomplishments and the team chant..."We Are" was alleged to have been born during that time.  The student publication, "Onward State" ran a "Penn State History Lesson" claiming that the origin of the iconic "We Are Penn State" phrase and cheer was from the actions of the 1947-48 football team, who admirably stood up to racial prejudice.  The same story has been published in The Daily Collegian, Penn Stater alumni magazine and the local newspaper, the Centre Daily times.  But, it that true?  Penn State historian, Lou Prato, in the publication Town and Gown, said that isn't true.  He agrees that it is an inspirational story and proud moment in Penn State history, but it's not true!  The real source of the phrase and cheer was told first in 1999 by Lou in Town and Gown.  In that article, which has been reposted several times since, Prato details how the Penn State cheerleaders in the mid 1970s and early 1980s created the cheer.  Now it has grown into an iconic statement for students, alumni and others, even in airport lounges, connecting everyone to Penn State.  Lou says he even has evidence.  First: Between 1948 and the early 1980s there was no mention of "We Are Penn State."  Second: Lou's 1999 article in Town and Gown, says that there were no cheerleaders who mentioned the events of the Cotton Bowl in '48 and the use of "We Are Penn State".  Third: Penn State athletics marketing created a video in 2008-09 where they mentioned the use of "We Are Penn State" for the first time.  Fourth: 2 years before that video, Mr. Triplett did another video for Penn State in Motion and never once mentioned the phrase "We Are Penn State."  So, Lou Prato claims that the cheerleaders created the phrase and cheer exactly as they described it to him in 1999.   Even Mr. Triplett emphasized many times that the important phrase to him was "We play all or none," rather than "We're Penn State."  Mr. Prato says what the team did in 1947-48 is a great an honorable part of Penn State history and never received the attention it should have, but the effort is dishonored by an effort to make a mythical link to the phrase and cheer where none exists.  Furthermore, to make that link steals the legacy of the cheerleaders who actually created the phrase and cheer.  I guess each and ever person will have to make their own conclusions, but for me...well, I will still yell "Penn State" when I hear someone else yell out "We Are!"  What else would you yell?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Story Of The 'We Are...Penn State' Motto: Part I" Story

 It was an ordinary day.  Listening to my son-in-law Dave tell about his experience while walking through the Baltimore & Washington Airport.  He said someone yelled out, "We Are" and almost instantly others yelled back "Penn State."  I have also heard the same response, but as I was walking along one of the streets in downtown State College, Pennsylvania where Penn State University is located.  Seems that those four words are synonymous with the Penn State University football program.  And...when were those words first uttered?  Story goes way back to 1947 when a young Negro man named Wally Triplett played for the Penn State Nittany Lions football team ( I have used the word Negro rather than African American or black, since that is what Wally preferred).  Wallace Triplett was born April 18, 1926 in La Mott, Pennsylvania.  La Mott is a small community in Cheltenham Township which is north of Philadelphia.  Wally was a natural athlete who played mostly baseball as a youngster. He grew into football when he played it when it was too cold to play baseball.  As an athlete at Cheltenham High School he played football, basketball and baseball and finally caught the eye of college coaches.  At the time he was a 5-foot-ten, 170-pounder who was quicker than he was fast.  The University of Miami recruited him for football, but when they found out he was a Negro, they rescinded the offer, as the school and city were segregated at the time. Didn't matter anyway, since Triplett earned a state-funded senatorial scholarship for academics to Penn State, where he became the first Negro player ever to start for the Nittany Lions football team.  He is in the record books a few times for his football prowess.  But, he is probably best remembered for the "We Are Penn State" phrase which is often attributed to All-American Steve Suhey who was the captain on the unbeaten 1947 team.  Well, when Miami was to play Penn State in 1947, they refused to since Penn State had two Negroes in Triplett and Dennis Hoggard.  The Penn State team stood strong and didn't play the game.  At the end of the season  Penn State was to play in the Cotton Bowl.  The team was asked to consider the possibility of leaving Triplett and Hoggard at home because Dallas, were the Cotton Bowl was played, was segregated at the time.  The Penn State team united and said, "We are Penn State, there will be no meetings," in reference to the meeting they had when playing Miami.  Wally Triplett was eventually inducted into the Cotton Bowl Hall of Fame.  In 1949 he was drafted by the Detroit Lions in the 19th round.  That year he set a team record for the longest run from scrimmage with an 80-yard touchdown at Green Bay.  Then on October 29 of the following year he had 294 yards on four kickoff returns, including a 97-yard touchdown.  That total was an NFL record that stood until 1994.  The Cotton Bowl which was held this past December 28 had Penn State pitted against Memphis and the Penn State team had a special white decal on their helmets with blue lettering with the letters WT in the middle and "We Are" on the top and "1948" on the bottom in memory of Wally Triplett.

The logo on the Penn State helmets as seen this year.

 So, I guess it is safe to assume that the "We Are...Penn State" all began in the 1940s.  But, not so say others.  But, that's a story for tomorrow.  Follow along...  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  PS - Wally Triplett died Thursday, November 8, 2018...too late to see his initials on the helmets of the winning Penn State team during this year's Cotton Bowl.  
   

The "Oh, How I Wish I Had Been A One-Hit Wonder!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading an article written by Anthony Castrovoince who is a well-known writer for Major League Baseball.  I recently published a story about a gift I matted and framed for my grandson, Caden.  The entire time I spent working on the project brought back fond memories of my baseball playing days as a youngster in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.  I began my career at the age of 12 when I played for a pretty good team known as the Schick Midget-Midget team.  Played first base since the only glove I owned was a first baseman's mitt.  Played well enough that I was invited at the end of the season to play for a team known as the Young Republicans the following year.  We too were very good and were the Jr. Midget Champions of the state of Pennsylvania.  The entire season I played first base for the team.  The following year I decided to play for a team that had most of my friends on it where I went to school.  

The Grandview Heights Midgets.  I am middle row,
second from the left.  

We were the Grandview Heights Midgets with an age limit of 16 years old.  I happened to be only 14, but managed to be the second best batter on the team with an average of .374.  Since they had an older guy who was about a foot taller than me, he played first base and I was moved to third base.  I managed to play in the All-Star game 2 of those 3 years I played for Grandview.  American Legion Ball came next and I played for the Elks.  Once again, I was the third baseman.  Baseball was the love of my live...until I learned to drive!  Then I just had to have a car so baseball took a second seat on my list of things that were important.  Needed a job to have a car so that's what I did instead of baseball.  Made the high school team as a Freshman, but quit when I was offered a job at the local supermarket.  Worse mistake I ever made in my life, but no one ever tried to change my mind for me.  I think back on those day and the only thing I would have changed was giving up baseball.  Perhaps I may have had the chance to live my dream and be a professional baseball player.  Never happened for me.  Both my sons played baseball with my oldest receiving a full scholarship to Villanova to play baseball.  In his senior year at college he was told by the San Francisco Giants that they were going to draft him, but a couple of weeks before the draft he tore his rotator cuff in his pitching arm and that was the end of his professional career.  Well, today after reading an article by Mr. Castrovince about one-hit wonders, it brought back so many memories once again.  In modern Major League Baseball history, 154 position players (those that do not consider pitching their best position) had only one chance to bat in their major league career.  And, only 16 of those can claim to have had a hit.  Their batting average in their lifetime was 1.000.  Of those 16, only five are still living.  Mr. Castrovince wrote about each of them and told about their hit in the major leagues.  I found them all fun to read, but when I read about a fellow named Roe Skidmore, it made me feel as if it were me in his position.  Roe was a first baseman in the Cubs organization.  Well, his dad, a shoe salesman, happened to be working the day his son was called up to the Cubs from the minor leagues.  As he was in the back room looking for a pair of shoes for a customer, he heard his son's name on the radio that was in the back room.  He was announced as the next batter.  Roe was picked by his manager, Leo Durocher, to pinch hit, since the Cubs were getting hammered and he didn't want any of the regulars to get injured.  

Card for Roe Skidmore.  Click to enlarge.

The year was 1970 and the 24-year-old Roe stood in the batter's box, more than likely with knees shaking, looking for a pitch to hit.  He knew the pitcher, Jerry Reuss, since he had played against him in the minors.  The now 73-year-old Skidmore followed a breaking ball to the plate and hit a line drive to left field.  It went over Joe Torre's head and centerfielder Lou Brock fielded the ball, threw it to second to keep Roe at first.  Roe was immediately replaced in the lineup the next inning by a fellow by the name of Jim Dungeon and never got into another Major League Game.  Funny how one tends to remember EVERY detail when it only happened once in his lifetime.  So, what does it mean to go 1 for 1?  Means his name will be in the annals of  Professional baseball for ever!  Oh, if only I had been able to have been Roe for one at-bat.  Just to see my name in a Major League Baseball book would have been fabulous.  That's something that can never be taken away from him.  As for me, my name is in the little pamphlet I have been saving with the statistics from my playing years with the Grandview Heights Midgets.  Hey, I was their No. 2 batter during my stay with them.  But, I would have traded being #2 in a heartbeat to be able to say I batted just one measly time in the Majors!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Members Of The Underground Railroad: The 'Reverse Underground Railroad' " Story

Preface:  This is the final story in my Underground Railroad series, written primarily since my hometown of Lancaster, Pennsylvania was one of the stops on the Underground Railroad.  One of Lancaster's most prominent residents of that era, Thadeus Stevens, was allegedly a conductor on the Underground Railroad.  But, my story today is a bit different and tells the story of the "reverse" Underground Railroad.  Read on...

Sign warning of kidnapping and slave catchers.

It was an ordinary day.  Reading "The Scribbler" in the November 6th edition of my LNP newspaper.  It was the headline that first caught my eye.  It read "The Gap Gang's exploits on the 'reverse Underground Railroad'" and I was hooked immediately.  So what was this all about.  Seems that the "reverse Underground Railroad" is the name given to the pre-American Civil War practice of kidnapping in free states (states that didn't allow slavery) fugitive slaves that had escaped their slave owners as well as free blacks.  Those that used that term were more than likely pro-slavery and angered that an Underground Railroad was helping slaves to escape.  Lancaster County had a gang of men who were part of the reverse Underground Railroad. They got their name since most lived in the Gap hills, an area to the east of the city of Lancaster.  They frequented the Gap Tavern where they would plot their activities to catch escaped slaves as well as steal free African Americans with the intent of taking them south to sell or auction them to Southern slaveholders.  

Kidnapping of free black citizens to be sold into salvery

They were a bunch of truly bad guys.  The gang's numbers changed from time to time depending on how many might be arrested and jailed or how many new recruits they could get.  This gang was primarily active in the months before the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 which required anyone who caught a fugitive slave to return them to their rightful owner.  The key word here is required since they weren't going to get paid for their labors of snatching a runaway slave.  The bad deeds of the Gap Gang were frequently published in Lancaster's newspaper for all to read.  

Drawing showing a free black woman being kidnapped and
her papers showing she was a free black being kidnapped.

At one time the city of Philadel- phia was a particularly vulnerable area for free blacks to live since the gang known as the "black-birders'" regularly captured men, women and children, sometimes with the support and help of policemen and city officials, and sold into slavery in southern states.  Black newspapers in Philadelphia ran missing children notices due to the gangs stealing them and taking them south for sale.  One child who was stolen was the 14-year-old daughter of the newspaper's editor.  In one two-year period, about 100 black children were abducted.  

A slave market in Virgina.

From 1811 to 1829, Martha "Patty" Cannon lead a gang that kidnapped runaway and free blacks from the nearby Delmarva Peninsula of Delaware, Maryland, Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay area and transported them south where they sold them to plantation owners located further south.  "Patty" was caught and placed in prison where she died by suicide.  Free black sailors who may have been on a ship that sailed south, were at times kidnapped and sold into slavery.  South Carolina passed the Negro Seamen Act in 1822 which required black sailors to be detained on ship at ports of call, since they were afraid the sailors would inspire slave revolts or perhaps be captured by gangs and sold into slavery.  Many kidnapped were marched to the South on foot, chained together to prevent them from escaping.  When the Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery and the Fourteenth Amendment gave them full citizenship rights, kidnapping and sale of blacks into slavery began to end.  But, has it totally ended?  I'm not so sure!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "Members Of The Underground Railroad: The St. James AME Zion Church" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Searching for information on what was said to have been the oldest standing church in an upstate New York college town that happened to also be a stop of the Underground Railroad.  St. James AME Zion Church was built in 1833 and is believed to be the oldest AME Zion church structure in Ithaca, New York as well as the United States.  To top that off, it was said to have been an Underground Railroad station, since Ithaca was an important transfer point for fugitive slaves en route to Canada.  Many of the slaves, known at the time as freedom-seekers, impressed with the treatment they were given in the community, decided to stay in Ithaca and built homes in the area surrounding St. James.  The pastors of the church often preached about slavery and its abolition.  One such pastor, Rev. Thomas James, was known to have provided assistance to fugitive slaves.  At one point abolitionist Harriet Tubman played an important role in AME Zion church affairs.  Frederick Douglass also visited the church a few times in 1852 and Jermain Loguen, an active participant and likely conductor in the Underground Railroad was St. James' third minister.  After the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act in 1850, harboring freedom-seekers was illegal and keepers of safe houses were at great risk.  But, it is said that as many as 75,000 to 100,000 slaves fled the South during the early to mid-1800s and more than 100 of them found their way through the St. James AME Zion church.  Throughout the history of the church it evolved in many ways and has seen many uses, including as a job placement center for African-Americans and as a location were soldiers enlisted for the Civil War.  The church was a welcome home to many escaping slaves who found help in their quest for freedom.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  PS - Follow along tomorrow as I finish my investigation into our country's  Underground Railroad.

Built in 1836, St. James AME Zion in Ithaca served as an
Underground Railroad stop for fugitive slaves.
St. James was also one of the first AME Zion churches 
n the United States, as well as one of the oldest
churches in Ithaca. St. James AME Zion is located
on Cleveland Ave. in Ithaca, Tompkins County.

The "Members Of The Underground Railroad: John W. Jones" Story

It was an ordinary day.  The Underground Railroad in the United States was a system that existed in the Northern states before the Civil War by which escaped slaves from Southern states were secretly helped by sympathetic Northerners, in defiance of the Fugitive Slave Acts, to reach places of safety in the North or in Canada.  Lancaster County was known as a stop of that railroad as I have written about the past few days.  One of my favorite early Lancasterians, Thadeus Stevens, was not only a member of Congress, but a member of the Underground Railroad.  Another such person was John W. Jones.  But, what makes Mr. Jones so special was the fact that he was once a slave.  The story of his escape to freedom began one evening in late June of 1844 when this 26-year-old slave told his mother that he was leaving to attend a party.  

John W. Jones

He was living near Leesburg, Virginia and was part of a family of slaves.  Jones slipped outside, grabbed a pistol and met with four other enslaved men who crept through the Virginia woods, toward the north.  The men dodged slave catchers in Maryland and finally crossed into Pennsylvania.  They followed one of the major routes along the Underground Railroad and passed through Harrisburg and Williamsport, finally resting in a barn near the New York border.  The others slept while he kept guard with a shotgun.  He understood the situation and took it upon himself to protect the others.  Finally, when the barn's owner, Nathaniel Smith, found them, he invited them into his home.  His wife Sarah served the group hot biscuits and butter and cared for them until they had gained their strength back.  On July 5, 1844, Jones crossed a toll bridge into Elmira, New York with less than $2 in his pocket.  He decided to stay in Elmira where he eventually became a conductor on the Underground Railroad.  Living in the North wasn't always easy for him.  He could not vote and was denied an education at local schools.  A local judge took a liking to him and helped him study at an all-woman's seminary, exchanging janitorial work for reading and writing lessons.  He joined a church with abolitionist leanings and became its sexton, maintaining its cemetery.  In 1850 the Fugitive Slave Act was created giving financial incentives to report runaway slaves.  Jones became vocal about his part of the Underground Railroad and published a message in the newspaper about colored citizens protecting themselves against slave catchers.  The Elmira Underground Railroad was the only stop between Philadelphia and Ontario.  During the next nine years he aided in the escape of about 800 runaway slaves.  These same railroad tracks brought Confederate soldiers to Elmira's new prisoner of war camp.   Prisoners in Elmira were considered part of the camp known as "Hellmira."  

The Elmira, New York Prisoner Of War Camp

The camp had no hospital or medical staff and about 25% of the prisoners died from disease.  Supposedly 2,973 Confed- erate prisoners left Elmira in a coffin.  And, the job of burying them belonged to the town's sexton, John W. Jones.  Each person who died was buried in an individual grave, not enmasse as in other prison cemeteries.  His record keeping was also meticulous which led to Woodlawn Cemetery becoming a "National Cemetery" in 1877.  He had a crew of 12 who dug each grave and buried each body, treating it as if that person had been a member of his own church.  He also kept detailed records of each soldier and created improvised dog tags that he placed on the dead soldiers.  This was a man who had escaped slavery and took great effort to bury those who might have killed him had they had the chance.  One big plus for John was that he got $2.50 for each soldier he buried and after burying 3000 Confederate dead, he had become one of the 10 richest African-Americans in the state of New York.  So, he bought himself a 12 acre farm where he built a house using wooden scraps from the old Elmira prison camp.  That home is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  For the rest of his life he continued to work as a sexton and usher at his church.  When he died he was buried in the same cemetery he had worked in for years.  For nearly two decades after his death, fresh flowers appeared on his grave from time to time.  Finally the flowers stopped arriving and it was at that point that it was determined that the flowers were put there by a woman named Sarah Smith.  The same Sarah Smith who, 56 years earlier, had invited John W. Jones and his friend into her home for butter, biscuits and a good night's rest.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.