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You Are Splendid...Lehighton's 2016 National Honor Society Induction Ceremony

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On Thursday, November 17th, the Daniel I. Farren Chapter of the National Honor Society inducted its newest members.

Congratulations to these new members:  Aubrey Blasiak, Caine Carpenter, Piper DeMatte, Jennifer Dobrowski, Julia Frey, Patrick Lawler, Matthew Pettit-Clair, Maura Phelan, Brandon Schnell, Ty Sharrow, Nolan Wentz, Grant Wetzel, and Mary Wilhelm.

They join Julia Banning, Tia Brownmiller, Tyler Dietz, Andrew Ebbert, Matthew Eckhart, Bethany Evans, Kaitlin Higgins, Elise Johnston (President), Brianna Keiser, McKEnna Knappenberger, and Morgan Yurasits.

Many members are former students of mine and some of them asked if I would deliver a few words at the ceremony.



Here are those remarks:


Aced my calculus test – Check!


Homecoming weekend – danced like a freak!- Check!


Induction into the National Honor Society – Check!


Congratulations!...You are now 'honorable.'

You now have more pieces of your Puzzle.

Things are now 'Over.' Time to get onto what's 'Next'…


~~~~

 What I have to say to you tonight might not make sense…


This won't be so much of a good speech, as it will be more like a bad poem...
~~~

You have entered into a society of scholars…honor…


Honor is a heavy responsibility, though it does not have to be difficult…




You are vibrant.  You are splendid. 



And yet you will be forgotten.  And you will forget. 

  
One by one, your brain will filter and prioritize these memories.


One by one, days like these come together and form the jigsaw puzzle of your life…


These random days, these random pieces…


Once strewn about and separate, are now coming together to form the image of what your life is….


Today is one of those days when all your puzzle pieces seem to fit.

It's been a long time since you were in my 5th grade class.  Can you remember those days?  You've assembled many new pieces since then.

And like those days have faded to you, so too will the memory of this day.

Oddly, it seems like just as you begin to lose the memory of your individual pieces…is the time when your life begins to make sense. 


Here's some good advice, simple advice: 'Over'& 'Next.'

Learn to know when things are over.  Learn to know when to deal with what comes next. 

  
When one part of your life is over, it’s over.  Time to move on to the next thing. 


Among my best hopes for you, is for you to have a place to rest somewhere between what’s ‘Over’ and what’s ‘Next’. 

  
Maybe you could string up a hammock, and lay there in the sweet in-between time of what's ‘Over’ and what comes ‘Next.’


However, "Life is very long." (T.S. Eliot)  

It is too long to simply lie in a hammock. 


After all, you have a puzzle to finish!


You want to move, you want to connect things. 


You have dreams to fulfill. 


You are made of positive light...it's time to shine!


And yet…


Sometimes in life, we do some pretty foolish things, things we hope will be forgotten, will be forgiven…


Sometimes running is useless, sometimes fighting is foolish, sometimes we spend too much time thinking of ways not to lose…


All can be forgotten.  All can be forgiven.


One by one, your dreams will fade to twilight,

One by one …flowers fade in your garden,

One by one…the leaves fall from the trees,


And so too, one by one, the hair of your head will fall, it will fade, and it will turn gray...


One by one, your sweetest days will slip behind you…


One by one, stars will brighten, and stars will fade…


And even though this day, this day of ceremony,

...will most likely fade and be forgotten,


It remains part of the whole, the ‘Over’ and ‘Next’…


There is much to come, in this day, in future days…


There is a premonition that lurks inside you like a match of hidden potential,


A match that can spark, it can flame, it can ignite, it can engulf, it can consume…


In all of it, lays life’s goal: to shine, to be incandescent.




Can we possibly ask for anything more?


~~~~

You the new inductees and current members of our National Honor Society chapter certainly possess nothing less…


May your hands always be busy, may your heart always be joyful,


May you always see the truth…


May you live to see the virtue of your own actions…


May you never seek the virtue of your own actions.


May you make dust and not eat it...

May you treat others, not as you wish to be treated, but rather how they need to be treated...

May you sparkle, may you pulse, may you shine...

May you be like the match and burn on, and burn on, burn on...

May your potential shine down like the stars up in the sky…

  
And no matter how bumpy your road becomes...

...No matter how twisty your life’s roads turn, …


Learn to rest between what is ‘Over’ and what is ‘Next’…


You may forget a lot of things, but always remember...

How honorable you were this day…


~~~~


You are vibrant…


You are splendid…


Now Go Forth! (Whitman)...Go Forth and Shine!...


...thank you.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sources:
~Arthur Sze's poem "The Ginkgo Light"
~Bob Dylan's "Forever Young"
~Woody Guthrie/Billy Bragg's "One by One"


Here is Nick Hoster, Piper DeMatte, and Maura Phelan in June of 2011.  They do grow so fast, don't they?  A little story behind the shot: The girls, unbeknownst to me, had referred to me in this shirt as "Forrest Gump." Sometime before the last day of school that year, they asked me to wear it, it was their favorite shirt I wore.


Kline

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Franz Kline: A Study in Conflict

We are fortunate to have his mural ‘Lehighton’, as tangible 
evidence of his energy and talent.


Painting all day...1950s: Kline was known for his storytelling to all hours of the
night at the home base of many 'New York School' artists in the 1950s and 1960s,
Greenwich Village's Cedar Bar, of his favorite topics to discuss: his hometown.
The recent successful unveiling of 'Lehighton' in its new home is a testament to its value both by Lehightonians and those who love and respect the art of Franz Kline.

Local Kline authority and writer of ‘Carbon County’, a postcard history and contributor to Ebbert and Ripkey’s ‘Lehighton’, Rebecca Rabenold-Finsel writes this about the mural in her forthcoming book: ‘Kline in Coal Country,’ co-written with her son Joel Finsel:



Kline’s Lehighton mural is more than a painting; it is a confession, an unabashed and richly colored ode to this place he had called home. In the mural, Kline as alchemist transforms an ordinary small town to a rolling dreamscape of places seen and unseen. Among the dark hues and myriad of densely painted areas, secrets, only known to the artist, are hidden. In the center foreground of the work is a white house behind the entrance gate to the fair, a dark heart painted at the top of this house, gray-black on black, and adeptly camouflaged. His childhood home...


Here is a picture commissioned by Kline authority Rebecca Rabenold-Finsel for her forth coming book 'Kline Coal Country.' The photo by area photographer Josh Finsel was used by the Allentown Art Museum for its 2012 Kline exhibit.  It is the best
photo taken of the mural prior to its removal from the Legion Post in November 2016.


See the WFMZ special segment on the Kline restoration, including interviews with Professor Bob Mattison and Lehighton historian Ronald Rabenold.
"I paint the white as well as the black, and the white is just as important."Franz Kline
The art world was just beginning to figure him out, this new form of expression that he and the ‘New York School’ had developed
 and offered to the world in his short life-time.

Kline altogether was a living dichotomy.  Just like his famous black and white abstracts, he found constant push between opposing forces.  He packed energy into his brush strokes, often adding texture with the edge of his hand or the base of his thumb.

Kline at the Cedar Bar

“The nature of anguish is translated into different forms.” Franz Kline

Up until the age of eight, Kline had a typical life. According to Rabenold-Finsel, Kline as a young boy, first sketched trains on the sidewalks of his West River Street Wilkes-Barre home, using a stick of rhubarb from the family garden.


But his father’s suicide, tears the family apart, and begins a heart-wrenching chain of events.  And his mother Anna must now make a profession of her own and goes on to St. Luke’s Nursing school in Bethlehem.  (See “Endnotes” for more on this.)


Franz’s siblings (Frederick, Louise, and Jack) go to an Episcopalian home, while Franz was sent to the Girard College Home for Fatherless Boys, a place Kline would for the rest of his life refer to as “the orphanage.”


Girard was said to be a cold place both in environment and in its severe military-like discipline.  Boys marched everywhere in two-by-two rank and files.  Kline arrived when he was just eight years old.


The mission of the place was to prepare young men to be productive workers.  Here is where Kline took his first drawing classes, preparatory courses for industrial draftsmen. 
Franz Kline used Lehighton as his source of inspiration for his "Pennsylvania Landscape" (c 1947-49).
The houses to the left were once on Bankway and Bridge Streets, burned in the 1970s.  
The bridge is the Lehighton-Weissport overhead trestle bridge that was torn down and replaced 
in the early 1970s.  These girders uplifted and viewed in the sky are resplendent and 
tangible residual manifestations seen in Kline's work.
 Copyright Franz Kline Family Estate, Artist Rights Society [ARS].


During this time, his mother met and later married a Packerton Yard shop foreman from Lehighton.  Three years later, Ambrose Snyder, a recent widower himself, set up house with Anna Kline at the corner of Ninth and Alum Streets.
 

Anna tried her best to gather up her family and Kline’s other siblings were soon returned.  However, at the tender age of ten, Kline was caught in a confluence of opposing forces.


Girard had a limited visitation policy, so Kline seldom came home.  It also had an equally strict contract that said once enrolled, the child remained there until he was eighteen.


It took five years of letter writing and remonstrations from Anna to finally bring Franz back home to her. 

1946 Self -Portrait - Painted the same year
as his 'Lehighton' mural.  Copyright 2017
The Franz Kline Estate, Artist Rights
Society [ARS].

“If you’re a painter, you’re not alone.  There’s no way to be alone.”
 Franz Kline
Fearing her son had been academically stilted at Girard, she enrolled her fifteen year old son at LHS as a Freshman the following September. 













The High School Years: A Man Versus Boys:


Kline was born in May 1909 and entered Lehighton High as a freshman in September 1927, graduating in 1931 at the age of twenty-two.


Given his dashing good looks and his advanced age for a freshman, Franz made a quick impression on his classmates.  He was a four year starter on the varsity football team as halfback and the catcher on the varsity baseball team. 


He also loved exploring the outdoors and went hunting in the hills.  And with his step-father’s railroad pass, he had free access to all the points along the rails, taking in the rugged coal-country landscape that would seep through his consciousness and onto the canvas.


Kline acknowledged this residual imagery that entered his art:


This sketch of Kline's from the Lehighton High
yearbook of 1931 (turned upside down here for
effect) shows striking similarity to his later
abstracts that in a short word showed the conflict
Kline liked to imbue into his work.  (One of my favorite
things to do with these cropped sketches is to rotate
them around in a picture viewer, noting how the symmetry
holds together no matter the orientation.)
He said, "There are forms that are figurative to me, and if they develop into a figurative image … it's all right if they do. I don't have the feeling that something has to be completely non-associative as far as figure form is concerned."

From the Lehighton High school yearbook of
1931.  It is easy to see Kline's theme of
conflict in his early works.  A theme that
carried into his black and white abstract
days, of paining white up against black,
black up against white.


Black and White No. 1 c. 1952 - Compare the energy and emotion of his 1931 yearbook sketches to this circa 1952 painting. Copyright 2011 The Franz Kline Estate, Artists Rights Society [ARS].

A Personal Favorite -  From Kline's 1931 LHS Sketches -This one refers to his buddy, my father's cousin Harold Rabenold, and "Blank" (not wanting to self-incriminate) on one of their "nature study" days off from school to go out rabbit hunting.  The PA Dutch dialect is another good example of Kline's playful humor.
He had many friends in the neighborhood, Henry and Frank Bretney, and Ralph Beisel to name a few.  He was good friends with his Rabenold neighbors too: my Aunt Gladys, and my father’s cousins Harold “Spunt” and Donald.


Many young ladies of Kline’s day were known to boast of a date with him being the highlight of their high school years.


Kline Re-Awakened – Fall 2012


The Allentown Art Museum, through the efforts of guest curator and Lafayette College Marshall R. Metzgar Professor of Art History, Dr. Robert S. Mattison arranged for a three month exhibit, ‘Kline: Coal and Steel.’ 


This, in conjunction with the museum’s acquisition of Kline’s 1938 Lower East Side Market Scene, set the wheels in motion for the museum to acquire the mural of Lehighton from the American Legion Post #314 in Lehighton.


‘Kline: Coal and Steel’ left Allentown in January of 2013 and moved for a well-received run in New York City.

Marshall R. Metzgar Professor of Art History at Lafayette College, Dr.
Robert S. Mattison presents his life and art of Franz Kline lecture
to the intimate Saturday 28 January 2017 gathering
at the Allentown Art Museum.

Mattison, who authored the 2012 book entitled “Kline: Coal and Steel” made several distinctions on the artist.

Mattison dispelled the belief by some in the art world, both during Kline’s time as well as today, that a parcel of his inspiration came from the Japanese art of calligraphy.  


Kline wanted his viewers to be “unhindered by suggestions” and refused to give meanings to his work.  He avoided comment of the meanings of his works, conveying only emotional, non-symbolic discussions of his painting experience.


Prior to his explosion into the field of Abstract Expressionism, Kline’s scenes "depicting the intersection of nature and industry (Such as ‘Palmerton’) were not the bucolic representations some have asserted," said Mattison.  But rather most of his art is a gesture of conflict, of the pushing back and forth, the ebb and flow, the rise and decline of various forces.

Kline's 'Palmerton' is as equally compressed and geometrically contorted
as 'Lehighton.' Note the Palmerton train station that still stands today as
well as the two Orthodox churches in the background.  A few of the piers
from the "high bridge" still remain in the Lehigh Gap.  Copyright 2017
The Frantz Kline Family Estate, Artists Rights Society [ARS].

He was said to have admired and perhaps identified with Jim Thorpe the athlete, and after Mauch Chunk changed their name, Kline would have renewed reason to regale his fellow artists of stories of his hometown.










Excerpt from Rebecca Rabenold-Finsel and Joel Finsel’s forthcoming book ‘Franz Kline in Coal Country’:

From the titles of many of his abstract works such as Mahoning; Harleman; Diamond and others––we believe that some of what went into producing his most significant works of the late 1950's, early 1960's included conjured memories of this home town.


It is easy to see the intersection between Kline’s early work and the influences from the anthracite and railroad region of Wilkes-Barre and Lehighton.  One cannot look at the overhead trestle of the Jersey Central trestle at the top left of the 'Lehighton' mural and not see forms from his later black and white murals.

This close up crop from 'Lehighton'of the overhead Jersey Central trestle
(torn down in the early 1980s to make wayfor the Lehighton Route 209 By-pass)
is another example of residual area images that seem to reappear in Kline's later works.
Copyright 2013 Franz Kline Family Estate, Artist Rights Society [ARS].

“You paint the way you have to in order to give.  That’s life itself, and someone will look and say it is the product of knowing, but it has nothing to do with knowing, it has to do with giving.” Franz Kline

Mattison mentioned Kline’s jovial and giving personality and his relentless story telling (to all hours of the evening in the Village’s Cedar Bar).  To his friends, he was always most generous in his time.  Kline’s favorite topic was discussing the love for the area he came from.


Examples of his generosity live on in the anecdotes of his local friends.  Other testaments to this are his design of posters for Adlai Stevenson presidential run as well as donating one of his paintings to support his friend Andrew Weinstein's off-Broadway production of 'Red Eye of Love' in 1961.

Kline's friend Andrew Weinstein's
off-Broadway show was sponsored, in part,  by
a painting donated by Kline.  From the Jefferson
City Post Tribune 23 Aug 1961.

(One story, Pollack known for his intemperance, once unhinged the bathroom door and threw it at the easy-going Kline.  The act earned Pollack what amounted to a lifetime ban from the bar.)


The Mural Comes to Be – 1938 to 1946:


Kline’s affinity for Great Britain begins with his mother, Anna Rowe Kline who was born in England in 1880.  She emigrated here around 1908 and shortly after married Anthony Kline who was fourteen years older than her.  He was a hotel keeper in Wilkes-Barre.


Kline’s English roots certainly played a part in his decision to study abroad in London’s Heatherley School of Fine Art.  Here, Kline met the ballet dancer Elizabeth Vincent Parsons, who sometimes sat in to model at the school. 


Elizabeth arrived in New York in the fall of 1938, a year and a half before Hitler’s lightning war over Britain began. Soon after, America entered the war.



As they fought along the muddy roads of battle, many of our fighting men sought refuge within the churches and cathedrals of Europe.  The last thing they saw each night, as they released their dream mind toward thoughts of home, were the vaulted ceilings of these churches.


With Hitler defeated and with the return of her son’s, the Lehighton’s Shoemaker-Haydt Legion post expanded the old Lewis Graver Homestead into a cavernous banquet hall, in the style of those open-beamed ceilings they saw in Europe.

The American Legion Post #314 banquet hall as it
appears today, it's large open beams were designed
to resemble the churches of Europe where many of
Lehighton's sons slept during WWII.  The beams were
said to have been cut by Herman Ahner's small sawmill
in Franklin Township.  Note the vacated space below the
American flag where the Kline mural hung for 70 years:
from1946 until November of 2016.  The dark beams against
the white spaces of the ceiling could have had a visual impact on
Kline as he worked on his mural.  (The space seemed
to loom there, still glowing with the pride of 'Lehighton'.)

This large hall also had some wall space to fill.  Through a stroke of good fortune, the Legion leadership decided to fill the large space behind the bar with art.  

Lehighton’s native sons fresh from battle would get to view their home town in mural-form, a view they dreamed of during those long nights away.


The Legion was lucky to land their native son, the struggling artist who was just beginning to gain a good reputation in the informal ‘New York School’ of artists.  This commission was made in late 1945.


Kline was too poor to afford quality paints in his everyday work.  In fact, much of his preliminary stretches were done on paper from the New York phone books. 

Many of his early and famous black and white canvas abstracts were done with relatively cheap hardware store house paints.  Holders of these pieces today refrain from loaning them out due to their fragile nature.


Fortunately, the Legion paid Kline a fair $600 for his mural.  This afforded him to use what has been deemed high-quality acrylic paints.  A fortunate circumstance indeed for without it, the removal and relocation would have greatly compromised the work’s integrity.


Many who first viewed it, perhaps expecting a more literally representation, failed to distinguish between their ideal of how Lehighton appeared versus Kline’s burgeoning abstract contortion of Lehighton’s reality. 


Some chided him for its departure from reality at the unveiling in December 1945. 

Little did they know Kline was entering a prolific period in his career, eventually placing his stamp on a global scale, for he would be an instrumental force in America’s first major contribution to a world-wide art movement, a founder in Abstract Expressionism.

'Elizabeth at Table' -
Elizabeth Parsons Kline, like her mother-in-law Anna,
was born in England.  She died of complications
due to her schizophrenia in a New Jersey mental
hospital in 1960, certainly weighed on Kline in his last
few remaining years.  Franz Kline died in 1962.
Copyright 2017 The Franz Kline Family Estate,
Artist Rights Society [ARS].

The timing of the mural commission was fortuitous for Elizabeth’s health. 


With Kline’s struggle to provide and with Elizabeth’s struggles with schizophrenia, their time together in Lehighton while he painted the mural allowed them to have a stable home life with regular meals under the nurturing care of Kline’s nurse mother Anna.


The Mural: A New Life – October 2016 to January 2017

This past January 29th, the public was re-introduced to the piece at its new home in Allentown.  Lines formed outside the museum at noon in anticipation. 


Dr. Mattison’s one-hour life and influences on Kline’s life in the auditorium was packed, leaving many standing in the aisles, along the walls and out the door.


Mattison guided the audience through Kline’s life as seen through his work.  Early examples of Kline illustrating conflict and the pressure between two opposing forces is keenly captured in his 1931 Lehighton High year book illustrations. 


The football player comically portrayed in a severely impossible pose, one forced upon it from an overpowering external force.


The same whimsy can be seen in his big band vignettes he painted at Graver’s Roller Skating rink, for his good high school friend Reuben Graver, whose family owned the rink and swimming pool in town.



These three vignettes represent the five big band theme paintings Kline did directly onto the yellow-pine,
tongue and groove paneling at Graver's Skating Rink in Lehighton, probably in the 1920s or early 1930s. These were among the paintings exhibited as The Jazz Murals at Bucknell University in 1986, then Baruch College Gallery in New York and onward to other locations as well.  This and more information will be published from Rebecca Rabenold-Finsel's Kline in Coal Country available soon.

Crisis:


The collision of two events led ‘Lehighton’ to be transferred to the Allentown Art Museum.  The first, sadly, came as a result of the steep decline in living WWII Veterans.  As a result the Legion Post had to make some tough financial decisions to ensure a future.


Likewise, though the Legion still maintains a beautiful and functional banquet hall available for receptions and reunions, they knew they could not provide the museum quality climate control the mural needed, a mural already showing steady signs of degradation. 


A painful confrontation with reality led the trustees of the Legion to decide to sell it to the Allentown Art Museum.
Luca Bonetti and Beth Nunan, art conservators on the Kline project
field questions at a small reception on Saturday 28 January 2017.


“Keeping art around as long as possible and allowing other people to be inspired by it is essential and valuable to the world,” Beth Nunan, Kline mural conservator, Luca Bonetti group.







On November 3, 2016, members of the Manhattan-based Luca Bonetti art conservation team began to roll the mural off the wall and onto the painstaking task of scraping away plaster and glue off the back of the canvas. 



Bonetti and Nunan continued their restorations efforts into and beyond the unveiling date of 29 January 2017.
(Photo courtesy of Amber Breiner of JFAB Photography of Jim Thorpe, taken on iPhone.)

The first step was to cover the entire face in a protective layer of Japanese tissue paper.  Next the team loosened the edges of the canvas enough to work small amounts of water behind the canvas to release the glue holing it to the wall.


A nylon border was added to the backside edge of the canvas to be able to stretch the work over a wooden frame so it could be attached to the museum wall.


The Allentown Art Museum unveiled the mural in a reception for invited guests, including Lehighton town officials, donors, Legion members, and others who provided in kind support on Saturday January 28th, 2017.


Beside’s Mattison’s Kline presentation, the museum also showed the video they produced on the restoration which showed clips of the town along with people sharing Kline anecdotes. 

Here Dr. Mattison looks on as benefactor Dr. James Kintzel talks with
Amber Breiner.  Dr. Kintzel was a pleasure to talk to at the reception
and had plenty of  Lehighton anecdotes to share. 

A full-length video including more interviews of people who knew Kline will be made available by the museum soon.


There was also special recognition given to those who donated toward the restoration:

James H. Armbruster Sr. and family, Attorney William G. Schwab, Paula J. Wilson, the Allentown Art Museum Auxiliary, David and Barbara DeAngelo, Dr. James E. and Kay Kintzel, Kline family and friends, Jamie Musselman and Jim Edwards, Phyllis Brown, Sylvia Betz Gardner, Gordon and Joan Ripkey, and A. Cynthia Weber. 


Of those listed benefactors, I noticed Mr. Schwab, Mr. and Mrs. Ripkey, Dr. and Mrs. Kintzel and members of the Auxillary present.


As mentioned before, there was a standing room only crowd that gathered on Sunday January 29 in the museum’s auditorium for Mattison’s presentation, which numbered around 350 people. 
Lehighton historian Ron Rabenold and art conservator Beth Nunan
were on hand to speak to the crowd during the first hour of the mural
unveiling on 29 January 2017.  By all accounts of those involved,
the event was a well-staged success.  The enthusiasm and excitement
 was evident by the myriad of  comments and questions fielded by Rabenold
and Nunan.  See the article by Jarrad Hedes by clicking here.  Photo
courtesy of Jarrad Hedes and the Times News.

By show of hands, about one in four people were from Lehighton, providing testament of those who attended out of hometown pride and interest.  But non-Lehighton attendants proves the excitement and interest in a man who last painted more than half a century ago.


Many with connections to Kline were on hand: a Mr. Arner from Allentown who was a God-son of Anna Kline Snyder, the daughter of Bill and Jan Peters, who owned the Keystone Restaurant on First St, Michael Hopstock who could see his home and his father’s Army Navy Store in the mural, and Mrs. Janey Snyder Graver, Kline’s step-niece, who was raised by her grandfather Ambrose Snyder in their home, who spoke of Kline’s mother insisting on being called “Mumsy.” 


Many have felt varying degrees of affinity to this piece over its seventy-year life span. 

And even though it isn’t the truest of representations, it includes all the icons of a town that many will always call home.  Things and place that mean so much to us, also meant so much to Kline.


With Elizabeth’s mental state deteriorating, she required a full commitment to a mental hospital in northern New Jersey by the late 1950s.  She died there in the early 1960s. 


Franz Died on May 13th, 1962.

The Kansas City Times ran this Kline quote posthumously in November of 1962
“Half the world wants to be like Thoreau at Walden worrying about noise of the traffic on the way to Boston; the other half use up their lives being part of that noise.  I like the second half.”
New York School artists Joan Mitchell and Franz Kline
at the Cedar Bar, late 1950s/early 1960s.

From small town Pennsylvania, to the art scene of Greenwich Village, Kline lived at the confluence of many opposing forces. 


Despite his own awareness of his declining health, Kline continued a life of cigarettes, alcohol, and late-night painting sessions.  

He had a portrait of Jim Thorpe, the one who had his own troubles and fame, that Kline so identified with, setting among his things.







Excerpt from Rebecca Rabenold-Finsel and Joel Finsel’s forthcoming book ‘Franz Kline in Coal Country’:

It is ironic, as Franz Kline’s health began to decline in 1961 and the final chapter of his life was coming to a close, abstract expressionism, too, was slowing. His sister Louise recalled:

          “The day he died I was talking to mother on the pay phone down the hall at the hospital and then to Elizabeth (his wife) and then I went back to his room. And I said, ‘Here, let me boost you a little.’ So I opened the oxygen tent and put my arms underneath him and he said to me, ‘Hold me tight.’ I said, ‘I can’t give you the boost you need.’ And then Franz was gone.”






ENDNOTES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anna and Ambrose -

Although it is somewhat unclear how and when Anna Kline met Ambrose Snyder, it most certainly had something to do with the Lehigh Valley Railroad.


With railroading the dangerous industry that it was, the Lehigh Valley Railroad started St. Luke’s hospital for the service of its workers.  The LVRR had a special train and doctors on call in Lehighton ready to whisk men for emergency help.  Many of these injuries were of the most life-threatening kind, with amputations of limbs a common accident on a near daily occurrence in the Packerton Yard alone.


Almost daily, the special train car pulled out of Lehighton and dispatched to St. Luke’s in Bethlehem with a yard worker who in some form was mangled by a train on the job.  Also, the LVRR had one of its main headquarters located a few blocks from the hospital where Anna Kline was studying. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Bretney Brothers and Franz’s Dead Dog- 

This undated anecdote is one I’ve heard repeated since I was a young boy who enjoyed people watching at Henry Bretney’s gas station at Seventh and Mahoning Sts in Lehighton. 


Though Henry was the same age as Kline, Henry’s younger brother by five years, Frank, was a 1931 classmate of Kline.  As the story goes, the two Bretney brothers paid a visit with Kline in his Greenwich Village apartment.


The visit left such an impression with Henry that upon arriving back home in Lehighton, he mailed Franz $5 to buy some food.


Kline, not being one to let a gift pass without a proper return, mailed a small landscape painting back to Henry as a thank you.  It hung in the Bretney’s home at the corner of Seventh and Coal Sts into the 1990s.


Henry died in 1992 and sometime before his wife Dorothy’s death in 1999, Dorothy donated the painting to the Lehighton Library.


Kline was known to have lived in real squalor most of his adult life.  He moved often, mostly for failing to pay the rent, and often lived without heat.


One story related by Professor Mattison talks of the time when Kline agreed to care for a friend’s dog for a time and the subsequent death of that dog while in Kline’s apartment.


When on the subject of the lifestyle of himself and his fellow Village artist friends, Kline would comment that “they live in places unfit for dogs.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anthony Kline’s Suicide - 

Those months in the late winter and spring of 1917 up to Anthony’s suicide in August, must have been heart wrenching for Anna and her children.


Anthony Kline, fourteen years older than his wife Anna, had come to the point in his life that he was ready to sell the family hotel business and retire on the $40,000 sale.  However, he seemed to have immediately regretted the decision.


Over the course of weeks, during negotiations to buy back the property from the real estate developer, Anna went to the office of Hyman Stakulsky.  During her discussion, Stakulsky assaulted her with a phone.  As a result the Klines filed suit against Stakulsky.


Eventually Anthony agreed to a price of $67,000 to buy back his former property.  On August 21, 1917, out of grief for this new financial burden, it is said that Anthony Kline took his life by the use of a pistol to his head.  He was fifty-one.

Wilkes-Barre news account
of Anna Kline's assault
May 1917.
Wilkes-Barre news account of Anthony Kline's suicide - August 1917.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Legend of the Beer and the Paints -


An often repeated apocryphal story of the work contends that Kline dabbed his paint bush into a glass of beer while working with the acrylic paints of his palette.  A fact deemed chemically improbable, unless of course Kline used a mixture of beer to paint a clear glaze over, an idea debunked recently by Luca Bonetti’s group.  However, it is highly likely that Kline availed himself to such libations while he worked.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kline's c. 1960 'Harleman' certainly named after his Lehighton friends, the Harlemans.
2017 The Franz Kline Family Estate, Artist Rights Society [ARS].
Treasures Lost –


Besides the paintings from Graver’s Roller Skating rink, others pieces of his art have been lost over the years.


Donna Koch Gower, formerly of Lehighton, remembers her father and her Harleman uncles being acquaintances of Kline.  She still remembers the New Year’s card Kline hand drew and sent to her dad and how it disappeared from their kitchen one day.  Other people in town share similar memories of personal Kline works that have since been lost.  

Luckily, she still has the 1950s era Christmas card sent to her father (below).  Kline was a friend and customer of Johnny Koch's Third St barber shop on his frequent visits home.


Shelly Stamm Genther remembers her father telling her how he remembered watching Kline make his initial studies in charcoal in the Legion, and how he would ball up and cast them aside as he worked at the wall, regretting years later for not picking any of them up.

These wood or lino cut prints were sent to
Lehighton barber and Kline friend Johnny Koch
whose shop was near Third and Iron Sts.
 (Appear here courtesy of Donna
Koch Gower of Norristown.)














~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kline in the 1931 Gatchin Bambil LHS yearbook - 










These last three pictures here are pages 126-128 in the LHS 1931 yearbook.


See Kline art analysis "Then and Now" from Jim Lane at his blog here.

Some key concepts of Kline's work were described from The Art Story website here on this link.

Hunting in Carbon County - Scarce and Curious

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Post #1 of 3: Scarce and Curious


                    Post #2: Resurgence & The Mountain Economy
                    Post #3: Laws, Tall Tales, & Accidents
                    The Fire and the Fury - Albrightsville and the Great Fire of Hickory Run
                   The Fire and the Fury 2 - Albrightsville - the Wilkinson-Henning Affair
                  Life on the Mountain: The Distilleries of the Pine Swamp


Hunting is Carbon’s second skin.  Though we’re not unique in this regard, life here is inextricably tied to it.


For hunting reaches beyond basic sustenance, it pulls us onto the proving ground, and connects us to this land.


The comradery and the day in the woods is enough for some.  But for many, a day without something to drag out and brag about is devastating.

John Deppe shot his first deer in December 1873.  Young John was the son of Henry Deppe, a well-known Pine Swamp saw-miller.  His Hickory Run area deer dressed out at 115 pounds.  And John was just one month shy of his seventh birthday.




Escaped from Mr. Ash's Game preserve on the Mahoning Mountain: Lewis Steigerwalt, reclined front left was the owner of the hotel, post office, and farm implement business at the crossroads of Andreas.  This 1923 picture of 16 buck hunters proudly displaying this fine 8 or 9-point buck is a testament to the scarcity of deer in our area at this time.  The back of the photo says "first deer shot in Andreas," certainly deer were so scarce that shooting one was a cause to take multiple poses with it.  More about this story and the men in the picture can be found in the end notes of this post.  


And this is Lehigh.  Once again…
And still the timid deer come down
To drink, at eve and morning;
And still the laurel blooms as bright
As in my life's glad dawning....

~Augusta Moore, from Poems of Places Anthology 31, 1876-79
(The complete poem is reprinted in the End Notes section #3.)


This is a young Snyder boy of Kresgeville
with his first buck in the early 1950s.


Today, Pennsylvanian’s expect to harvest a minimum 300,000+ deer per year.  Many youth have good reason to have high hopes of filling their scopes with that magical chestnut-brown hair.

But John Deppe’s first deer in 1873 was rather significant.  The harvests in those days were exceedingly slimmer than those in our modern age. 



This is the first of three installments that will examine the record of big game hunting in our area over the last 140 years.









The Rabenold-Finsel gang of Spring Hill Mountain
 29 November 2004.
   Even a button-buck is cause for celebration, especially
when it's the only deer shot that year in camp.
A son's first deer is a special type of pride for fathers.  That buck
season was one of the many exceptionally warm ones in recent years.





















In the Beginning



You have to begin at the start of it all, when man first evolved into tribes to see the evolution of this special rite of passage.



From Colonial times up into our nationhood, many area farmers were known as “long hunters.”  The most famous one in this area was perhaps Philip Ginter who discovered coal in Summit Hill in 1791 while out hunting deer.



Hunters like Ginter were farmers first.  And once all of their crops were turned in for the fall, they turned their attention to hunting. 



Not just for a few days mind you.  A “long” time entailed, two and three weeks.  They’d start in late November or early December and would promise to be home for Christmas.  Thus our modern day season was set.


Long Days in Camp - Even into the "modern" era of hunting
did men hunt "long." This hunter, a patron of John Snyder's
"Jonas Hotel" speaks of his glum life back at work after
17 days hunting in Jonas, just over the Carbon County line.


Ginter, like many small farmers of the Mahoning Valley, and valleys just like it, looked for the “buck season” to help expand their land holdings.



Their goal wasn’t only to salt away venison for the winter, but also to gather as many deer skins as possible.  Each skin garnered a price of $1.  Hence the term “buck skin” came to be applied and the male deer forever known as a “buck.”



In those days 100-acres of farm land could be had for $100.  Some hunters were known to expand their farms at 100-acre clips every few years mainly from money for buck skins.



One of the most famous of all area hunters, an almost mythical man, was Jeremiah “Old Jerry” Greening of “Rattlesnake,” a hamlet of Blooming Grove, Pike County. 

His farm was just northeast over Monroe County from Carbon and he was known to have killed “upward of 500 deer” at a time when deer were much more scarce than they are today.



Jerry farmed and had many sons who also hunted.  Many of his exploits were told and retold all over the country in syndicated newspaper stories in the 1870s and into the 1890s.  More will be told of this man in the “Tall Tales” section of Post #3 in this series.

With an old set of elk horns, this
hunter keeping his venison high
and dry.  A Kresgeville area deer.

























Game Preserves:



It could be said that modern deer conservation started in Carbon with Josiah White.  He was no doubt the first to start a game preserve here in Carbon though he wasn’t the last.



White took up residence here in the winter of 1817/18 to build the “Stone Turnpike,” the origin of the Switchback Railroad.  He was the progenitor of the “the Old Company,” the Lehigh Coal and Navigation Company.



By 1828, he built the first of the grand homes in what is today Jim Thorpe.  He called it “Parkhurst” where Kemmerer Park is today. 



Even before he retrieved his family from his home outside Philadelphia, White brought his eighty-year old mother here.  And before he called for his children and wife, he built Carbon’s first game preserve for deer, elk, and peacocks to entertain his soon to arrive children.



He was not the last to do so.  Asa Packer had one too.  And so did T. A. Snyder, the builder of Flagstaff Park, the inter-urban trolley line, and the incomparable Colonial Court Mansion in Lehighton. 


Descendants of Henry Melber still do two things as all
the successive Mauch Chunk Melbers did: Work as undertakers
and hunt, and not necessarily in that order.  Those who know Tom
and his son Nate Melber will attest there are no truer sportsmen
than they are.  For more on this story and how the Melbers
were fully exonerated, see the End Notes of this post.

One upstanding hunting family in Carbon was once wrongly accused of hunting a deer from Snyder’s preserve.



The first evening of Doe Camp at Little Acres
Farm, Kresgeville, 15 December 1959.

The men and boys of Little Acres Farm - Doe Season December 1959 - Dreaming of sugar plums and venison.
There were many efforts by the state in these days that we take for granted today, such as the game lands. 



In July of 1914 Dr. Joseph Kalbfus and Dr. Penrose of the State Game Commission visited Penn Forest township to select and declare a site for a game preserve, to be stocked with deer from Michigan. 


Dr. Kalbfus not only visited Penn Forest to set up
a deer preserve area, but also implemented the re-stocking
of deer from Trexler's Preserve to counties
in need of deer: Lehigh, Potter, Elk, Berks,
Wyoming, and others in Jan 1917.































The men concluded that “few places in the state afford such an excellent place for raising deer than in Penn Forest Township.”

People went to great effort to stock deer in this area.  In the fall of 1890, Henry O. Hughes of Carbon Hill, Alabama, helped to restock deer here by shipping two first-year fawns to his father-in-law William Evans in Slatington.



The article said the deer still had their spots, which the newspaper account compared to the spots of a leopard.  This evidence suggests that the average citizen did not have first-hand knowledge of what a young deer looked like, evidence of their rarity at that time.



In 1891, the “famous Alligator Club of Emmaus” sold their three “handsome” deer to Jacob Reichard of Haymaker’s Island on the Lehigh, near Allentown.  

“Two of the deer were bred in captivity, and all of them are very fine, and as thoroughly domesticated as house cats.  That they will prove a great attraction to visitors to the island cannot be doubted.”



These two articles provide a curious glimpse of life around white-tail deer here and provides ample evidence that deer were considered a rare animal indeed.



Colonel Harry Trexler
This hearty buck was shot between Trachsville
and Little Gap, where Russell Bollinger was known
to hunt.  Shown here is Russell's first wife
Marian (George) who died of cancer
in 1938 at the age of 28.  



No one embodies the era more than Colonel Harry Trexler.  A self-made millionaire of the Lehigh Valley, Trexler made a fortune in the Portland cement business.  But he was also a logger, purchasing thousands of acres of timbering land.



The present day boundaries of Hickory Run State Park were purchased by Trexler.  He remodeled the former Samuel Gould homestead and entertained guests with apple-jack punch and fishing jaunts to nearby Sandy Spring.



The Gould property is adjacent to the Hickory Run cemetery where members of the Gould family are buried along with other logging and sawmill families of the area.  Among them, those who drown in the flash flood caused by the breach of a 70-acre sawmill dam in October of 1849.



Trexler planned on donating the land for public recreation.  He said, “We live only a short distance from the anthracite coal region where there is scarcely a blade of grass growing…”  The area lacked deer habitat and Trexler was fixed on improving it.



He wanted men and their families to have a place for outdoor recreation, “rather than have them loafing around pool rooms and saloons fomenting anarchism, I would like to see Hickory Run developed into a state park.”



Several state agencies (the Game Commission, Fish Commission and the Department of Forest to name a few) commenced campaigns to receive the park from Trexler’s will and trust.



Trexler passed away in a car accident in 1935, and oddly, had taken the lands out of his will due to the bureaucratic wrangling.  Eventually, trustees of his estate oversaw the land transfer into the park and hunting lands we have today.



One recipient of Trexler’s will was Joseph Heimbach.  The Heimbach farm is the last large farmstead, on both sides of Route 534, after Hawk Falls and before the camping area.



Heimbach or his surviving wife, would receive an annual salary from the estate to the amount of $500 per year.  Heimbach may have been some sort of caretaker or overseer of Trexler’s land or perhaps payment for the right of way through his farm.


The smallest 6-pointer ever?  Another deer shot by Russell Bollinger
of Trachsville sometime in the 1930s.  



















The Bizarre and the Curious



Colonel Trexler also endowed a large game preserve just south of Carbon in Lehigh County.   In March 1911, a trainload of wild game (forty does, ten bucks, and three buffaloes) were unloaded at Colonel Trexler’s game preserve. 



The three rail cars delivered the animals from a preserve in New Hampshire as well as ones captured from the “Blue Mountain Forest.”
January 1917 - How rare was wild game at
this time?  This Allentown Democrat article
discusses released 8 deer, rabbits, and one
wild turkey from the Philadelphia Zoo.  One.



The train arrived in Coplay at 8:00 PM March 2nd.  Two and sometimes three crated deer fit into one wagon.  However, each buffalo, weighing about 1,500 pounds, would each take up their own wagon en route to the preserve.



A total of forty wagons were used to haul them the three miles from the station, the “menagerie of wagons resembling a circus procession never seen in this county.”



Lehighton also had a game preserve, created by William Ash in 1910.  Many are familiar with the section of land west of Baer Memorial Park known as “Ashtown.”  Ash’s home still stands there, a grand example of the Sears & Roebuck catalog homes of that time.



Ash’s preserve was located on the Mahoning Mountain near what is today known as “Graverville.”


Wild Turkey:
A rare 1950s sight on the Barlieb Farm
in Kunkletown. 

The first deer shot in the Andreas area in a generation was actually a buck that escaped from Ash’s preserve.  (Note the picture above.)



 “Scarce and Scattered” - 1880-1930



In this time period, lumber was king in Pennsylvania and Trexler was only one of many Pennsylvanians who started their fortunes in lumber. 



Williamsport was at one time the lumber capital of the world.  In 1899 Pennsylvania reached its peak of annual lumber production with 2.3 billion board feet of lumber harvested. 



It made many in the state into “millionaires,” the moniker for Williamsport High School today.  Today, Pennsylvania boasts of 59% or 16.7 million acres of forested land.



By 1900 there were only nine to 9-13 million acres of forest in the state.  Compare this number to the estimated 28 million acres back to William Penn’s time in the 1680s. 

The squeeze on big game was on.



The Great Pine Swamp of northern Carbon County was filled with lumber operations.  The plentiful old growth hemlock trees were cleared, feeding the stave mills for barrel making and the slab bark sent to the many leather tanneries, Lehigh Tannery being one of the largest in the world.



Indeed the area economy revolved around timber and hunting.  Carbon’s place at the hub of the world-wide distribution of anthracite coal placed its own pressures on the woodlands. 



Canal boat captains would work the waterways all summer long.  And once December brought the first freeze-over to the slack water, the men would commence hauling logs out of the Pine Swamp to be used in boat repair and boat building at the Weissport boat yard.



There is some conflicting evidence over just how rare deer had become in the state.  There is no question that the number of deer and big game was extremely small compared to today, through loss of habitat alone.



Six deer in Weissport - Most likely shot in Potter County, Reuben Small's favored spot in the 1930s.  Reuben, from Massachusetts, met and married Lehighton's Esther Koch at business school, forming Lehighton's
"Small and Koch Dairy" in the 1920s.  

(Click here from more on this dairy and other early Lehighton businesses.
The Small and Koch segment is near the end of this hyperlink.)

This Weissport scene is sometime in the early 1940s, as the McCall Bridge in the background was completed around 1938.
Scarce and Curious



Scarce they were indeed, making folks curious about wild game in those days.

Hotels owners used wild game as prizes and to grab attention at this time with “old-fashioned hustling matches” that attracted crowds and brought in money.



Fred Horlacher (before he brewed his famous Allentown beer) was a tavern owner in “Bowmansville” (Bowmanstown).  On February 1879 he held a match and social hop.  There were a variety of prizes, but the one sure to draw a crowd was the top prize: a “tame bear.”



Similarly, Moses Rabenold’s Hotel (near Emmaus) held a “splendid year old buck deer, just now getting his first set of antlers” as a prize at his hotel.  Surely, wild animals were of such scarcity and yet held in high esteem by the public to make such offerings an attraction to the average citizen. 



Perhaps the fact that a four-point buck found in Albrightsville in 1892 best attests to just how rare deer were at this time.  An article in the local paper stated how Mr. Dench discovered this buck skull and rack and how it was the talk of the area. 



Again, this was only a four-point deer.  He didn’t shoot it.  He found it.  Would this make news today?



Evidence that deer were curious to people and therefore somewhat rare, can be found in Lehighton’s druggist T. D. Thomas.


Four Buck at Lehighton Park - Reuben Small of "Small and Koch Dairy stands at the right. Known to hunt
in Potter County, more pictures from Small's Potter hunting camps will be posted in Post #2 of this Carbon Hunting Series.

Thomas mounted a deer head in his shop’s First Street window that he purchased from a Towamensing hunter named Edward Graver (February 1893).



However some Carbon residents were successful hunters despite historically low numbers of deer, as evidenced in two stories from Lehighton’s Carbon Advocate in December 1877:



“Two Lehighton residents furnished the publisher of the Carbon Advocate with fine venison roasts.”  Simon Walck and Alex Solt each furnished Editor Morthimer with deer meat.



The second story told of William Boyer of Big Creek “capturing” “a very large deer one day last week.”  It went on to say, “He started out again early the next morning confident in capturing another, but always returning home with an empty sack.”



(“Capture” was a word used in those times for slaying a deer.  However, there were also men in those days who trapped deer to be sold to various preserves and sportsmen’s groups who were eager to purchase white-tails.)



So how thin was the herd?  John M. Philips, a noted conservationist and highly esteemed Pennsylvania hunter, shot a deer in December of 1883.  About which he reportedly wrote to a friend:

“I have killed the last deer in Pennsylvania.” 



For Philips to have shot a deer and at the same time believe he shot the last one is a startlingly admission, especially for a “conservationist.”



A contradiction to the deer’s scarcity can be found in this Carbon Advocate article from two years prior:



A man named Uncle Joe Jones, at 65-years of age, claimed to have shot 33 deer and five bear in the 1881 season hunting in McKean and Potter Counties.  Game laws be damned!



His lifetime tallies: 3,527 deer, 321 bear, and 50 panthers.  He allegedly didn’t keep record for catamounts (lynx), wolves, or foxes.  These numbers are exceedingly high, even by “tall tale” standards. 



Every picture has a story.  Every bloody 4-wheeler picture
with a buck at night is an even better story.
This story has been re-told several times since.
Ryan's White Haven deer - 2011.

Apparently hunting and fishing have always lent themselves to such exaggeration.  More on men like “Uncle Joe Jones” and “Uncle Jerry Greening” will be examined in Post #3.



High Demand  and Limited Supply: Pressure to Boiling Points



Pressure and boiling points were met between “necessity” and the law.  One old Pennsylvania law forbade hunting on Sundays, “unless in cases of necessity.”



The mountain folk of northern Carbon County, the Great Pine Swamp, relied plenty upon the herd to provide meals for their families.  The fact that the Game Commission was working so diligently to guard the deer herd was on a collision course with the needs of the many.



The first game warden shot in Pennsylvania was in 1903.  In 1904 three more wardens were shot but 1905 had none. 



Then 1907 made up for it, with seven officers shot in performance of their duties (only three were fatal). 



This entanglement between law and outlaws surfaced in the Pine Swamp on Thanksgiving Day 1932.  The confrontation between Harry Wilksinson, a one-armed game warden and his brother versus the family of Aquilla “Quilly” Henning in Albrightsville led to murder.



The Hennings were bent on revenge after Wilkinson had arrested one of them over a game regulation and lured the Wilkinson’s into the woods by killing one of Wilkinson’s hunting dogs.  For more on the Wilkinson-Henning affair, click here.



At the same time tensions were boiling over, the state began its aggressive deer stocking program.  The first shipment of fifty deer arrived from Michigan in 1906.  A total of 1,192 were stocked in the state during the twenty years of the program.



But it was the lack of browse that was the main problem.



This fact was ignored, and the commission went on a new direction: holding doe as sacred.  1907 was the first year for a total ban on antlerless deer hunting.



Like so many of Pennsylvania’s hunting traditions, this “buck only” sentiment still lingers heavily in the minds of many traditionalists today.



The 1907 “buck only” season may have been a low point, with only 200 buck taken state-wide.  (Along with 35 illegally shot does.)



April 1917 article describes the forest growth
as "slim and un-nutritive" causing "boldness"
in the deer now grazing on Stroudsburg-area
wheat and grains.  The article implies that this was
a new phenomenon.

And yet, in 1923, farmers were pleading for relief from deer crop damage.  The Game Commission began providing deer-proof fencing and giving them authority to kill deer for crop damage. 



There are places where my family hunts in White Haven where this wire fence, affixed directly to beech and cherry trees, is embedded into trees today.



So the herd was scarce in some places and problematic in others, and this renewed the debate over hunting does.  A $10 per doe license was proposed in the spring meeting of 1923 but was hotly protested. 



Another solution at that time was to trap the doe in the plentiful areas of the state and ship them to parts where they were scarce.  So a $25 per deer trapping program was initiated by the Game Commission in Perry County in October 1923.



Land owners would be paid the sum for each trapped and crated deer, shipped by rail freight (pre-paid freight also paid by the state) throughout the state.  The law also provided return pre-paid freight shipping of those crates back to their owners for future use.



The 1923 season was a bust due to a lack of tracking snow and that food was “scarce and scattered.”  In reporting on the season on January 16, 1925, the Harrisburg Telegraph reported just two buck shot in the Harrisburg area.



But 1924 was a “banner year” with 7,778 shot (1,300 more than the previous year), a paltry sum compared to 1950s.  However, in comparison to today’s 300,000+ seasonal deer harvest, one can realize the impact this loss of habitat had on deer at this time.


Deer weren't the only animal jauntily displayed as our heroes return home from the mountains.  Shown here is Jonas Snyder's Hotel and Post Office around 1915.  Jonas was the original post master and like most post offices at that time, the area was named for the post master, thus we have the hamlet of "Jonas" today.  Eventually the hotel went to his son John and through various hands over the years, including to the family of Tom Held in the 1960s.  Though open as a restaurant until recent times, it has since closed and now serves as a shelter for homeless veterans.  More will be written about this and other Pocono Mountain hotels in Post #2.

The State Game Commission won the right to have the sole right to fix season bag limits and seasons for game in 1925, relieving the state legislation from enacting laws in this regard.  The additional power given to the Commission allowed for decisions to be made based on science rather than on politics.



The forests were judged to have only a 250,000 deer capacity. The woods had been kept at “brush stage” for longer than usual due to fires, such as those set by huckleberry pickers.



Pennsylvania’s decimated forests were incapable of supporting the current herd, estimated at the time at 800,000.  Game Commission Director Joseph Kalbfus tried to convince the public of this. 



It was a hard sell.  The public’s mind could not understand this.  For them, deer were still a rare sight.  How could the state be “over populated” when places like Andreas hadn’t shot a buck in over a generation? 


Hunters' intuition at odds with Game Commission
science - a never ending saga - March 1923.

Director Kalbfus, instrumental in setting up preserves, had been trying to crusade for antlerless hunting in the state since 1917.  He saw how the land simply could not sustain the current numbers and that regular yearly doe and buck seasons were a necessity.  Regional doe regulations had yielded little in thinning out the overpopulation.



But his proposed regulations were at odds with hunter conventional wisdom.  They saw the killing of doe, at a time when they were carrying their young, was the root cause.  To their hunting intuition, science had it all wrong.



The first state-wide antlerless season was proposed in 1928 and was greeted with strong protests, letters to editors, and petition signing.  The legislators promised to stop it and de-authorize the Commission’s newly granted powers.



But Kalbfus said there would be “hell to pay” if it wasn’t controlled by open hunting on both genders. 



That winter, Clearfield County reported 1,000 dead fawn.  The deer were starving.  The 1928 antlerless season netted 25,097 state-wide.  Kalbfus was right, the population needed an doe season and the herd started to become manageable.



Deer food was still scarce.  By 1931, the forest was nearing “pole stage.”  The mature trees were now too large to provide food as well as providing too much shade.  The shade of course inhibiting the growth of the browse the herd depended on.



The 1950s saw a convergence of a healthy balance of habitat and game population along with permanent changes to antlerless hunting regulations.  Finally, by the late 1950s, the annual doe season took hold. 


Keen Ahner was ever proud of his Jeeps, perhaps their
most loyal customer anywhere.  Here he is with the family
on the old concrete roadway through Big Creek
 in 1971 as work on the Beltzville Dam was finalized.

Yet many hunters who bridged those years continued to believe in the “sacred doe” philosophy.  A concept that still holds sway today.  


Keen Ahner and young Larry Solt on the front porch of the old
Ahner homestead in Franklin Township with carp they caught
in the Delaware around 1950.

Brothers Keen and Grover Ahner of Franklin Township, both gone and sorely missed, were men who started their hunting life in the early 1940s.  Both men still preached the importance of only shooting buck. 



Though both men certainly shot their share of doe to fill their own freezers, I can still hear the “buck only” logic that pervaded the thoughts of most hunters from that era.  They’d say “if you shoot one, you shoot three.”



For those growing up in the 1930s and 1940s, deer were still a rare sight.



Chester Mertz, recently deceased of the Mahoning Valley was the last person alive who had a living memory of the high, wooden planked fence in the woods near Henry Graver’s property.  (Click here for more on that.)



“We’d climb around Henry Graver’s property and William Ash’s deer preserve, an all wooden fence…it seemed too high, much higher than any cow pen or horse corral we’d ever seen, and we’d sit and wonder what those deer were like.”



“I remember the day I saw my first deer.  It was a big deal…I was about seven or eight (1927)…and my father Amby and me were driving over the Mahoning Mountain…a farmer was standing in the road and made us stop…he said, “Hirsch, hirsch” pointing to one standing along the edge of the wood line.
Son Jon's 2016 West Virginia buck.

























~Much of the data cited here comes from PA Game Commission Website and articles written by PGC Wildlife Biologist J. T. Fleegle


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

END NOTES: 

1. Andreas First Buck Shot Picture - 1923

The above picture of Andreas from the 1940s is courtesy of the Bill Schwab collection.  The deer and men picture with the scale in it would have been just out of frame left of this picture.  The hotel on the right is the backdrop of the other two pictures, note the columns.  The Steigerwalt farm implements yard would be out of frame right, to the rear of the hotel.  The Steigerwalt homestead is catty-corner from the present day and as seen here Andreas Post Office.  Descendants of Steigerwalt still own the home today.  Andreas started out as "Sittlers" when Civil War Sargent Tilghman Sittler was named postmaster in June 1883.  But the Republican was ousted by his Democratic rival Wellington Weaver in 1885.  Both men also competed against each other for customers, as they each owned a grocery store across the street from each other. Weaver renamed the post office "Andreas" after his wife Fianna's maiden name.  But Sittler was won back in 1890 until 1892.  Then switched back to Andreas from 1893 to 1897.  It remained Sittlers until 1916 and then changed permanently back to Andreas there after.
The Andreas Hotel, the backdrop of two of the pictures.  Steigerwalt implements is in the
background and the Steigerwalt home is out of frame right.
The photographer of this picture would be standing near the L. W. Steigerwalt scale that is in the one picture.
Those scales were quite near the roadway (Route 895) and were said to have been there up until the last 30 years.
This is a picture of the Andreas Hotel on the north west side of the intersection at Andreas.  Steigerwalt's implement yard was to the rear of this building.  The picture here above and one directly below were made into 8x10 pictures and it has been said that many if not all of the men pictured here received a copy of each from Bretney Studios in Lehighton.  Surely these triumphant victory shots were taken to celebrate the first deer shot in Andreas in a lifetime.  However, it was widely believed at the time the this buck was an escapee from Ash's Game Preserve from the other side of Mahoning Mountain.


Lewis Steigerwalt Jr. sold farm implements
in Andreas and ran the hotel and post office
there as well.
The List - This list was scribbled down sometime ago
by the Steigerwalt family in Andreas.  This is one
sample of evidence that has both helped and
confounded the efforts to identify the men pictured.
Using the positively identified men as anchors, this
list does not seem to have a particular pattern.
Additionally, some men listed here differ from
other sources of identification,
but it has been particularly useful.
The above list was written on the back of this 1923 picture but it is believed to have some mistakes.  After interviewing a few of the descendants of some of these men, the following is known with some degree of certainty, but should certainly be viewed as a work in progress.   ON THE GROUND: Lewis Steigerwalt Jr lies at deer's head.  Over his right shoulder, Henry DeLong (kneeling), LeRoy Everett (behind Lewis' head), and Charles Nothstein (behind the antlers).  Middle is James DeLong (head at the beginning of "Andreas), Russ Sinyard (to DeLong's left).  Lying down at tail is Oliver Wertman and kneeling behind him is Stanley Arner.  STANDING: L-R: Osville Ruch, Moses Steigerwalt, and Charles Gerber.  Tailor Frank Rebrecht (all tailors wore ties when hunting), Lewis Steigerwalt Sr., Cal Ginder (tallest), and Pierce Kerscher.

Were these men cursed for shooting this deer?

(Ages given are age at time of the picture unless otherwise noted:)

Sadly, a few of the men pictured here had only lived a short time.  Lewis Steigerwalt Sr. died just three years after this eventful day at the age of 73.  His son, Lewis Jr., died of a stroke fifteen years later at the age of 56.

Osville Ruch was a widower who worked in the coal yards, Moses Steigerwalt was a clerk for Lewis, he died in 1936 at the age of 70.  Charles Gerber was a 28-year-old farm hand and implement salesman for Lewis.

Calvin Ginder was killed on his way to work at the Palmerton Zinc in December 1963 when his sedan station wagon collided with a tractor-trailer in 1963.  He was 29 when the picture was taken.  The tailor of Andreas, Frank Rubrecht was 56 in the picture, he died in 1934.

Stanley Arner was 29 in the picture and was a farmer from East Penn.  He died in 1961 at the age of 68.  Charles Nothstein was 32 and Lewis Jr's borther-in-law.  Also an East Penn farmer, he died one year after the picture was taken after developing a tetanus infection from a foot injury on the farm.

Russ Sinyard was 23 in the picture.  He hauled timber in the 1930s and delivered stone and coal in the 1940s.  In 1944 he slipped from his truck and fractured his skull on the concrete roadway, he was just 43.  Pierce Kerscher killed himself with a 12-gauge shotgun, likely the one pictured here, in 1942 at the age of 48.

This is a picture of the Lewis Steigerwalt farm implement yard behind the north west corner at Andreas, to the rear of where the deer pictures were taken above.
2. Melbers are Exonerated 1907
The "Outlaw Melbers" - (L to R) - Shown here are Henry Melber (born 1857) was the original undertaker of the Melber clan.  Seated next to him is son Edward (born 1888), with Harry (knealing, born 1879) along with his son Nathan (born 1907).  There is no finer tradition to pass down along family lines than hunting.  Tom and his wife Mary, along with their son Nate continue their family's legacy.  Note all the pups eating from the dish.  The article describing their questioned day of hunting that December 1907 referred to the Melbers using dogs.  Of course the Melbers were found innocent of all charges (see article below) and the Game Warden from Slatington had to bare the burden of all court costs.  For more on hunting in the Pine Swamps click here.



























3. Augusta Moore's complete "Lehigh" Poem from 1876-79

AND this is Lehigh. Once again

My wearied feet are taking

The well-known path along thy brink,

And memory is waking,—

Sad harp of mine, awake, awake,

And sing the pensive story,

That sighs and murmurs through my head

Beneath this forest hoary.


Oh! thou bright river, dost thou know

The pilgrim late returning

To view once more the autumn fires

Along thy valley burning?

To view her father’s heritage,

That father lowly sleeping,

Far from the green and lonely grave

In the old hemlock’s keeping.


Thy mountain still is standing firm,

Its shadows o’er thee bending,

Its lofty pines, its laurel blooms,

Their sweet enchantment lending.

Along thy banks the wandering vine,

Its purple fruit untasted,

Still casts upon thy careless tide

Its clustered treasures, wasted.


And still the timid deer come down

To drink, at eve and morning;

And still the laurel blooms as bright

As in my life’s glad dawning.

Thy gray rocks seem no older grown,

Thy beauties fresh and tender

As when we came, a frolic band,

Our childhood’s praise to render.


For Lehigh was our joy and pride,

Our glad, beloved river;

And all around was charmed ground,

Our home! delightful ever.

Our nightingale the whippoorwill,

The water-elves our cronies,

Their camp-fire smoke of mist we knew;

Our game the trout and conies.


Lehigh, I dream that in thy voice

I catch a tone of gladness,

That yearning love is in thy touch,

That thou wouldst soothe my sadness.

Only in dreams for thirty years

Have I beheld thee flowing,—

Whither away so fast, dear stream?

Why dost thou moan in going?


I see the unforgotten grave!

Moan on, O faithful river!

Where all the lights of home went out,

To shine no more forever.

But stay, and tell me where are they

That, in the years long vanished,

Beside thy waters played with me,—

Hast thou their memory banished?



Hunting in Carbon County - Dying Breeds

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Post #2 of 5-
                   

A set jaw, a dog, and a belt full of ammo -
Long Run's Harvey Ahner lost his father in a
 railroad accident the same year he was born in 1908.
This picture was taken around 1924.
Dying Breeds:


John Bitterling’s mountain ash tree was in full blown the first spring after the city of Allentown planted it.


Two months later Bitterling encountered his untimely death at his favorite home hotel, Dotter’s Inn, just east of White Haven.


And two months after Bitterling died, his tree died too…


From his late winter trout scouting hikes through Leslie Run, Hickory Run and Mud Run that lasted days at a time, to catching live bears to sell, to his marksmen’s precision, stories of John Bitterling approached tall tale status.


His 1917 death may have signaled the end of his kind.


Huckleberry pickers are another extinct breed.




Hunting in Carbon County Posts:
                     Post #1: Scarcity to Resurgence

                    Post #3: Laws, Tall Tales, & Accidents (Not yet Published)
                    Post #4: Hotel Jonas and other watering holes (Not yet Published)

                    The Fire and the Fury - Albrightsville and the Great Fire of Hickory Run
                   The Fire and the Fury 2 - Albrightsville - the Wilkinson-Henning Affair
                  Life on the Mountain: The Distilleries of the Pine Swamp
                  Ode to Spring: Moonshine and Horseradish


Each year, about early July, Great Uncle Henry (1902-1985) would appear in Lehighton, to stay at his sister, my grandmother. 

Charles Snyder, son of Jonas Snyder of "Snyders Hotel" in Jonas Pa, just
over the Carbon County line from Meckesville in Monroe County.  Built
around 1850, Jonas was postmaster there at his hotel in the late 1800s.
The village, originally known as "Sterners", was renamed after Jonas
sometime around his death in 1905.  Charles and his older brother
John ran the hotel from around 1900 to 1950 when Paul and Lucille Held
purchased the property.  John died in 1948, Charles in 1958. 

Even though he drove his car from Allentown to Lehighton, he would always hitchhike and walk back to the little hamlet where he was born, to pick huckleberries.  


When I was small, men and women still picked berries.  They’d scour Hacklebernie, the Broad Mountain, Tank Hollow, the Pine Swamp, and the “Halfway Fields” of Spring Mountain.


Keen Ahner (1932-2009) of Franklin Township was the last berry picker of that generation I knew.  He’d wait until late summer to pick his favorite for pies: dogberries.


Every few years, when the pickers found the berries too small in size or number, they instinctually set their favorite picking spots ablaze in order to take away the shade and encourage growth of the underbrush.


It wasn’t just a hobby or a way to escape the summer heat of the city.  Men like Bitterling, Uncle Henry and Uncle Keen were not only attached to the land, they belonged to it.


From the late 1700s up until now, man’s connection and disconnection from the land has impacted many species who shared the woods around us.

November 1953 - A young Tommy Held by the stop sign with Maurice
"Mox" Getz's bear in front of the Hotel Jonas.  Mox is in dark clothes
over the bear's right shoulder, his brother Lawrence Getz is near the tree.
Young Donald Zacharias is at left.  At the bear's left is Clinton Bruch and 
holding the right paw is Charles Smith.  
Tom Held's parents bought the hotel in 1950.

Bears, Wildcats, & Catamounts:












Through a series of articles written by Altoona-area writer Henry W. Shoemaker around 1915 known as "Stories of Pennsylvania Animals" we in the 21st Century can take a peek back at the state of the forest from one hundred years ago. 

Of bear, Shoemaker stated there once was a “hog” bear with a short nose and long ears and a long “glossy coat.”  Compare this to the “dog” bear, a long nose, short ears, a “meagre coat and tasteless flesh.” 

A letter from Dr. Berlin, 1/4 part owner of a
tract of land near Snyder Hotel.  Snyder owned
the other 3/4 part. 

In the late 1800s, there was for a time a “freak” bear that had a white face.  Shoemaker also said there were once brown bears here that were related to the Grizzlies.  Certainly the occasional “cinnamon” bear today could be descended from those.


(See the paragraph on “last kills” in Post #1 ofHunting in Carbon County.  Also, see end notes for more on Shoemaker’s animal stories.)


Big cats were still being reported as “numerous” in the state in an April 1895 Harrisburg Telegraph news story.  The article provided a county by county rundown, citing each county’s own special “peculiarity” with the wild cat.


In Lackawanna they kill the pheasants, in Monroe, they kill sheep and young lambs. 


In Carbon, the “wild cat can be found at any time in the Pine Swamp after he has enjoyed his meal of poultry and game.”


After the last panther had gone extinct from the state in the late 1800s, Pennsylvania was known to be home to two varieties of what we call “bobcats” today. 


The “wildcat” (Lynx Rufus) is the cat that survives in numbers today, but in the early 1900s, there was also the “catamount” (Lynx Canadensis).

A letter from William H. Bilting in February 1910 paying $6 for a fox
and asking for a catamount.

The story ended with the tale of a Dr. Warren from the southwestern corner of the state claiming a “catamount attacked me one night as I walked home from courting a girl.”  

Dr. Warren went on to claim that the cat “treed me on a fence and I had to stay there until daybreak.”


The author, poking some fun, wondered what it would be like if all the young, love-struck men of Harrisburg suddenly found themselves “treed on posts and awnings until dawn, soiling their Sunday clothes.”


The whitetail was extremely rare at that time, and the number of cats were partly to blame.  The bigger culprit was the loss of habitat (see Post #1-Scarcity to Resurgence).


It’s hard to imagine the deer-rich, agrarian Mahoning Valley being devoid of white-tail.  People of the low, farmland regions of Carbon had to seek out the big woods of the Pine Swamp for their hunting adventures.
Before the days of Cabelas and other sport retailers, hotels like Jonas' Sndyers provided everything the modern sportsman of 1904 needed, including DuPont Smokeless gunpowder.  The hamlet of Jonas was originally known as Sterners.


You can take the man out of the woods….
An early 1900s deer and propped rifle at Snyder's Hotel in Jonas.


At 84, Mahoning Valley’s Solomon Kemmerer was still a hearty soul in 1890.  The Allentown Democrat said this about the old hunter and the state of the herd:


“He is one of the pioneers who pitched his tent in the wilderness when deer, bear, and other wild game were as plentiful as domestic animals now are, and he has been a hunter and a gunner all his life and is still a good one.”


The paper went on to disclose the details of Solomon’s upcoming hunt to the Pine Swamp and how he had three stops in mind: Charles Wernet’s “Wernet Hotel,” then Freeman Getz’s place in Albrightsville, ending in western Monroe, at Jonas Snyder’s Hotel. 

Rough and Tumble Days - Jonas Snyder with dog on his lap and the rest of his family as they looked around the 1890.  Looks like son Charlie's head is near the star in the flag.  This is the original hotel first built in the 1850s by a Mr. Singmaster.  Jonas took over in the late 1850s.  The structure that stands today would be to the left of this frame.  Jonas was postmaster and the eventual namesake of the hamlet first known as Sterners.  In 1880 he also had George (27 years old) and Emma Bullinger living with his family as a laborer.  The Bullinger children were Nathan and Irvin.  So this picture is most likely a mix of the Snyder clan and Joans's farm and timbering help and their families.

The fact that an 84-year old was still hunting in those days is a testament to much.  The fact that a hunter in 1890 had to travel so far in the hopes of bagging one is a testament to just how thin the herd was.

The Internal Revenue puts the touch on Jonas Snyder in 1864 for $5
for his hotel license.

Travel in those days was hazardous.  The fact that Solomon Kemmerer, at his advanced age, braved the traveling up and over the mountains between the Mahoning Valley and the north woods, is worth noting.


In March of 1915, Mrs. Charles Huseman of Albrightsville was traveling by team to catch a train in Mauch Chunk when the harness broke and her team of two horses ran off. 


Helplessly coasting down a steep grade, the tongue caught the ground, and the sudden stop sent both her and her young passenger Lillian Danner hurtling through the air. 


The young Danner girl struggled with her injuries to find help at a nearby home.  But it didn’t matter.  Huseman’s life was gone from a break in her neck.


This type of travel did not stop those wishing to return to nature or to find relief from the hot summers of city life.  Hotel life in northern Carbon County added money to the mountain economy.


Dogs, Birds and Rabbits - Small game hunting at Jonas Snyder's 1920s
Jonas Snyder's Hotel, Sterners (Jonas) - Late 1890s, early 1900s
Someone once asked one of the Snyders "What's that bell for?" To which the matter of fact answer was, "For ringing."
Since John Sndyer was a Forest Fire Warden, besides calling folks in for dinner, it may have been used as a fire alarm.  Given the property was around 460 acres, a high bell for ringing was probably needed.  To the left, was the stream and water wheel.  A drive shaft went under the road, into the wash house front left, through the hotel, and into the next barn.  One story relates how one of the Snyder women, walking near the road, found her dress entangled in a part of the driveshaft that was exposed and it ripped her dress off. 

Mountain Economy: Outfitters and Hotels


Those of the Pine Swamp were resourceful.  Making a living there was tough (see "Moonshine and Horseradish" article)and many made ends meet as they could: from timbering to sawmill and stave mills, to railroading, to trading in moonshine and apple jack, to selling Canadian Christmas trees and distilling wintergreen (Carbon County provided over 80% of the world supply- See "Lost Stills of the Pine Swamp.")  


Some mountain men were hired guns and trappers who could secure a bear or a catamount or deer for a price.  On a stroll through Albrightsville a hundred years ago, one could find any number of bears and deer, hanging from front porch rafters. 
 

At $25 per bear, those folk could salt money away to get through the harsh mountain winter.


While many like Franz Wernet, Jonas Snyder, and Freeman “Harry” Berger ran hotels that catered to sportsman of the day, many also found a source of “pin-money” by taking in hunters to their homes. 


This tradition still continued up until recently.


Hotels catered to bringing their clients in from the train stations as far away as White Haven or even Mauch Chunk.  In the early days, this of course would be by horse team (see the 1912 American letterhead below compared to the 1920 shown here).  And this 1920 American Hotel letterhead promotes their automobile service. 
A letter from Harry Berger to John Snyder
asking him to loan five bags of the Snyder brothers
"good pig feed." Of course Harry will gladly pay them
tomorrow for pig feed today.  Note the letterhead changing
with the times: Prior letterheads said a "team" could be
furnished, but by 1920 auto service was offered to
travelers coming by rail to Mauch Chunk and White Haven.


Northern Carbon Hunting Hotels- Getz, Wernet, Berger, and Snyder


The Getz Farm:


The Freeman Getz’s farm, catty corner from Berger’s American Hotel in Albrightsville, took in up to eighteen hunters each season.  In the 1950s, the rate was $7 per day, room and board included. 


Hunters received a hot breakfast and dinner after dark as well as a cold lunch and coffee to carry into the woods for the day. 


Freeman’s son Claude carried on this tradition into the 1960s.  Claude’s son Charlie remembers sleeping on the floor each deer season.


The mountain families relied on this money.  Charlie said his parents only brought in about $2,000 in yearly income at that time.  The deer season money provided about one-fourth of their yearly income.


The Wernet House - A favorite with fishermen and huckleberry pickers:

Francis "Franz" Wernet's August 1911 obituary from the
Altoona-Tribune.

Franz Wernet (1829-1911) received the title “Huckleberry King” because of his 4,000 acres of prime timber and huckleberry lands.  His holdings bridge the land between Albrightsville and Meckesville today.


Wernet’s youngest two boys, Frank (1860-1921) and Charles (1862-1907) had substantial hotels of their own.  Frank ran the grand Effort Hotel and Charles had the Jamestown Hotel in Lehighton, a favored spot for the men of the Packerton Yard.
 
The Jamestown Hotel in the 1960s - Wernet Family
 It burned to the ground in the 1980s.  
(North First St Lehighton - looking north)

Charles had two sons, Fred (1898-1963) and Charles Jr (1901-1970).  

They robbed the well-known White Haven peddlers on the road between White Haven and Meckesville in 1919.  They tried to blame their deed on the Van Horn boys of Mecksville.  Fred and Charles were found guilty. 


Franz died in 1911 leaving the original Wernet hotel unattended.  And since his son Charles had died in 1907 and Frank busy with his hotel, a young Allentown man came on to take over the Wernet House.
The Wernet House in 1912, run then by
Fred Treichler, asking for a loan of beer
and soft drinks.  Treichler was low on funds
due to his payment of a $121.75 lien.  Notice it
says they can furnish a "team" (horse and wagon)
to pick up patrons at White Haven or Mauch
Chunk Stations.


Fred Treichler (1885-1942) was a stable hand at an inn or hotel and came to Albrightsville for only a short time.  By 1918, he was living in Allentown working at Bethlehem Steel. 


His lease or a loan from the Wernet boys to run the hotel must have kept him in a constant money-pinch.


In 1912, Treichler wrote John Snyder of the Jonas Hotel asking for a loan of some soft drinks and beer, stating his funds were low from recently paying his $121.74 lien. 


However, he did enclose $5 for a gallon of whiskey and a gallon of gin the Snyder’s also sent him previous.


When Treichler left the Wernet House, he didn’t leave empty handed.  He married the farmer’s daughter Mollie, of Charles and Malinda Dotter. 


Charles Jr. took over the Wernet House until he died in June 1944.  His sons, Xavier and Fred, ran it until October 1948 when a fire reduced the hotel to its foundations.

(Interestingly, the Wernet Hotel in Effort had a similar but less damaging fire in May 1951.)


Like many hotels of that time and place, it had a tap room, dining hall, and dance floor. 

The Effort Village Inn from 1915 - Frank Wernet
Follows a similar construction as the Jamestown Hotel with
the same Mansard roof-line and turret

Berger’s American Hotel:


On the other corner from the Getz farm still stands Freeman “Harry” Berger’s “American Hotel.”  Like many of these hotel owners at that time, Harry Berger (1885-1946) was also a farmer.  The fall hunting and spring trout seasons were keen contributors to their yearly income. 


The hotel passed to Harry’s oldest son Thomas (1909-1959) until the 1950s.  Then Thomas’s youngest brother Howard “Chubby” (1928-2004) ran it up to the 1970s.  Chubby’s son Mark (1974-2016) still lived at the hotel as his home.  His wife Jill and children continue on there.


The hotel may have been started by the “J. Christman” who owned the property in 1876.  At that time, maps show two wintergreen distilleries and several sawmills nearby.  (See article on "Lost Stills of the Pine Swamp" on wintergreen distilling.)


By 1898, the “American” was run by a Henry L. Huseman (1866-1945). 


(It is unclear if this Henry was related to the Huseman’s mentioned earlier.  Neither is he none to be related to those Huseman’s buried in the Old Albrightsville Cemetery.  There is a Henry “C.” Huseman (1882-1914) buried there.  Henry “L.” was buried in Berks County.) 


Henry L. Huseman emigrated from Germany as a child, first settling in Berks County.  By January 1898 he was appointed post master and ran the property until around 1910 when he moved back to Berks.
Back when hunters paraded their trophies
home - Jonas Snyder's 1920s















Jonas Snyder- Jonas Hotel:


Another émigré from the Lynn Township area was Jonas Snyder (1830-1905).  He left West Penn Township, not too far from Lynn, in the late 1850s.


He started a hotel and wielded significant power in the area, becoming a Monroe County Commissioner (said to have given the impetus for the building of the 1890 courthouse by hosting the other two commissioners at his hotel for a weekend.)

Jonas Snyder built a solid and steady empire.  (Many Democratic judges would ask Jonas to hold political rallies at his tavern.)


He took over from a Mr. Singmaster for about $400.  Besides the hotel there was an established apple orchard and saw mill.  After running the hotel for about 50 years, he slowly turned the enterprise over to his oldest and youngest sons: John (1867-1948) and Charles (1878-1958). 


John Snyder (1867-1948)
 on porch of the hotel.
Besides the two boys, Jonas and Susanna Adams (1842-1919) also had five girls: Emeline Bollinger (1863-1906) (she married George Bollinger, parents to Jonas Bollinger, the great grandparents of my Haas cousins), Ellen (1865-1869), Amanda (1870-1940), and Mary (1883-1958).  

Charles Snyder (1878-1958)
The first picture ever of all ten children of John and Anna (Christman) Snyder - 1916:
From left: Arlington (1916), Ralph (1910), Rolland (1908), Jonas (1904), William (1901), Susanna (1899), Lillian (1896), Mabel (1892), Emma (1891), and Beulah (1890).

1940 - The 50th Anniversary of John and Anna Snyder at Snyder's Grove behind the hotel.
The last picture of all ten John and Anna Snyder children on hotel porch 1967:
Arlington, Ralph, Rolland, Jonas, William (l-r, back).
Susan, Lillian, Mabel, Emma, & Beulah on the occasion of James and Emma Lobach's 50th anniversary.
Within a few years, the first of the children would pass on, this being their last group picture.
The Snyder brothers ran several enterprises from the hotel: Timbering and wood products from the water-powered sawmill to slate shingles, grist-mill for horse and other livestock feeds, to hunting guides and to farm implement sales to beer, liquor and soft drink brokers, to having one of the finest vineyards and wineries around. 



Many people relied on the Snyders as their "bank" of choice when needing a loan.  Notes have been found among their papers with simple terms: "I promise to pay Jonas Snyder..." A testament to their business skill and respect in the area, few failed to repay them.  

Additionally, this is how the Snyders expanded their land holdings as well, picking up notes and taking over properties of those in need or want of selling.  This is how Jonas was able to add onto his original 120-acre tract.

(The grape vines grew over the numerous lengths of stone rows of their 460-plus acre farm.  When the Held's owned it, the grounds were down to 60 acres.)


Older brother John mostly handled the business end of things while the younger Charles did more of the physical work of the business, running the mills and serving as guide to the hunters and fishers.

John Hooke's 1920 letter seeking a respite
for his wife and daughter away from the
city heat of Philadelphia.  Given Hooke's title
and the fact his secretary typed his letter,
John Snyder's week rate quoted at the bottom was
most likely skewed to the high side of their rates.

The going weekly rate wasn’t consistent, the chief factor determined by the size of your bank account.  John quoted a young executive from Philadelphia $11.00 for the week.  To remember this, he referenced the quoted price on the bottom of the letter he saved.


John Hooke, new to the Philadelphia area from Ohio was on business in Wilkes-Barre in the spring of 1920.  He was looking for a place for his wife and daughter to “escape the city heat.” 


Local bands would play concerts in Snyder’s Grove, just behind the hotel, along the cool waters of Sand Creek. 


Other fairly local people reserved the grounds for picnics, like the one set up in by Mauch Chunk’s William E. Bevan for the Carbon Court House gang. 


Local photographer Philip Kishpaugh set up a dinner at the hotel in exchange for his Pineforest Concert Band playing a concert at the grove.




The Brothers Snyder - Charles in white and
John with cigar around 1900.  The two men
ran the hotel as long as their father did.
100 years of Snyder ownership:
Jonas c. 1850-1900 & Boys 1900-1950.


Comically wreckless - Successful and happy rabbit hunters at Snyder's Jonas Hotel around 1910.  Notice a slightly
glum Charlie Snyder far right.

The letter from Pineforest Concert Band
treasurer Philip Kishpaugh setting up
a concert date and dinner at Jonas.

Philip Kishpaugh (1874-1948) with his
camera equipment.




















Both picnics were in the spring of 1920.


Jonas could be a stubborn sort.  Even though he lived to see his sons expand their trade and by building a larger hotel next to his original, he quietly refused to set foot into the new confines.  He died in 1905.

  
Not opposed to the outdoors and a beer - This 1920s
Jonas Hotel customer looks at ease in an era when
women like Amelia Earhart were carving new
boundaries for women and women's rights.
For a good, thought provoking look at the struggle
women had to over come to wear pants is worth a 
look click here.



More Mountain Money:


Carbon County’s current status as a leading national tree farm grower has its roots with the men of northern part of the county. 


Men like Harry and his son Thomas Berger, along with Roger Meckes and others, traveled to Canada and Maine each year in October to oversee the cutting of wild pines.  The trees were then freighted back home to Carbon via railroad. 


(Canadian law prohibited non-citizens from cutting Canadian trees.  Men like Meckes and Berger were relegated to simply “overseeing” the enterprise by hiring Canadians.)


One article implied that these hucksters could make over $1,000 on four freight cars of trees.

Another story sometimes told talks of Meckes, flush with his winter earnings and looking for a place to flaunt it, stopped in at the Jonas Hotel, now under the ownership of brothers John and Charlie Snyder. 


Meckes laid out seven, one-thousand dollar bills, proclaiming them to be the “Seven Books of Moses.”  (Thousand dollar bills were only printed in 1928 and 1934.  They had Grover Cleveland on them.)


Charlie Snyder turned from what was laid out before him, mechanically rolled the  dial of John’s floor safe by his desk, and retrieved what looked like two giant balls of twine. 


A closer inspection revealed that these small cantaloupe-sized orbs were actually balls of money.  Of which, Charlie Snyder, in a thick Dutch accent, presented as the “Old Testament” and the “New.” 


Many transactions passed through the physical bounds of the Hotel Jonas.  John Snyder’s clout and business savvy were often called upon, either to mediate a property transfer or because folks knew he could help them in a financial pinch. 


Many letters and notes saved from his record attest to the loans and deals he held and made.  This is thanks to the foresight of Tom and Ellen Held.  Tom’s parents owned the hotel from 1950 to 1960.


Even by 1904, Jonas’s son John was known to take on real estate holdings for people in need.  In October of that year, Pierce Meckes solicits John Snyder, to buy his farm and every “sing” (I always knew the Dutch to say the word ‘sing’ for ‘thing’ but never saw it actually written before.)


Meckes asked for $450 for the whole works.  He most likely had given up of farming, as he had already moved off to the city, Bethlehem, working at a lumber works there.



“Going Dry” Prohibition & Revenuer Troubles
John Snyder sits at his desk while Charles sees to the bar in this 1905 shot.  Notice the Moxie signs.  Moxie was outselling Coca-Cola at this time.  Also note what the patron of the hotel wrote home on this postcard: "This is where you get good applejack." Tom Held still owns the clock today.


Among their many hats, the Snyder family timbered and cut lumber for various purposes from plaster lathe to house planking.  Charles is shown here sporting their forest fire equipment.
The Snyder brothers were known to have one of the best wine cellars in Monroe and Carbon Counties, as evidenced by this letter on the eve of prohibition taking effect. 


Snyder’s cousin, Atty. Edward Sitler of Mauch Chunk, requested a few bottles or a quarter barrel of some of their premise made wines, such as wild cherry, blackberry or grape.


Another customer at Jonas hotel wrote them to ask if Charlie wouldn’t mind doing some “jacking” for him.  From an earlier visit and conversation with Charlie, the patron was hoping they would let a barrel of cider out to ferment in the winter elements and then “draw off” that which didn’t freeze. 


By repetition of this process the resulting liquid was a high-proof alcohol.  This freeze distillation is how early colonials produced their “apple jack.”


With the repeal of Prohibition at the end of 1933, federal and state regulators buzzed local taverns like angry hornets.


The Bergers ran into some trouble with the revenue men when it was discovered that his wife Darlene had signed for the hotel liquor license renewal. 


Harry was up in the north woods securing Christmas trees when the application to renew arrived.  Agents served them notice in February 1935.


Later, federal agents arrived and seized several barrels of apple jack.


Then in July 1935, state agents once again raided Harry Berger’s “considerable supply” of applejack and placed him into custody.


Unusual Requests:


Many of the patrons of Snyder’s Hotel made various requests.
This 1900 fur price list was found
among the papers of John Snyder.
It was important for John to know
the value of furs and skins as he was
often times asked to provide them
for his customers.
 

One man from Red Hill wrote a letter thanking John for mailing him the fox.  See the 1900 fur prices (this list, found among Snyder’s things, was important for him to know, helping them to set prices for the animals they “caught” for their customers.)  A fox fur was paid $1.25 in those days.


The customer sent John $6.  Obviously, John was a good businessman.  But it appears from his general free nature of these transactions, he sent the fox but it never seems like he demands a price. 


The man volunteered the amount of $6 to him and asked if that was sufficient for the animal plus shipping.  The man ends the letter stating how much he’d like a “catamount” (bob cat) “if John ever catches one.”


Amby Mertz shot a gray fox on his Mahoning Valley farm in 1924.  His taxidermy bill was $10.

Ambrose Mertz's 1910 full mounted grey fox taxidermy
bill from Tamaqua's C. W. Hoffman.














Dr. E. Stanton Muir, whom his veterinary doctoral students at the University of Penn affectionately referred to as “Eddy” was another loyal customer of the Snyders, though he also fished and hunted at a few other Pocono mountain hotels and fisheries. 


Those students were entertained by his stories of his hunts in the “wild woods,” but seemed to call into question who actually shot his bear.

The bottom of Dr. E. Stanton Muir's 1910 letter to John
Snyder asking for "a pair of birds" for up to $1.50,
"and no one will have to know about it."

Certainly his line “and no one will have to know about it” deeply implies that Dr. Muir might claim as his own, the things shot by others. 


Muir used that line when he wrote John Snyder asking for “2 birds” to be sent to him, saying he was willing to pay “up to $1.50” for the pair.  And surely if Snyder didn’t find that price appealing, he wouldn’t reply. 





Near Tall Tales - Tough Going in the Snow:

These are the third generation Snyder men of Jonas Snyder Hotel in the 1930s.

Many city-folk came to northern Carbon to hunt and lived to tell of it.  Allentown citizens, James Ettinger and Ralph Butz had a tough time bringing in their 135-pound buck shot in Albrightsville in early December 1912. 


After stalking for two and a half days, they shot and then tracked a deer in six to eight inches of snow, ten miles from their camp in Albrightsville.


They carried the deer out on their backs for a mile through snow drifts into the darkness, lucky to have found a road and even luckier to have found a team of passing horses by.  But the team got stuck in the snow, requiring the men to dig for two hours to get going again.


They also shot five pheasants, a “big” jack rabbit, and four cottontails.  They mounted the deer to remember their harrowing time.


Getting Back to the Garden


Men like Carlos Baer, son of Eugene Baer the silk mill owner of Lehighton, (he was uncle and namesake of Carlos Teets, current Lehighton resident) found both solace and camaraderie with his college friends in 1934.

Getting Back to God's Country -14 Days
"No women, no razor, no cares"
Carlos Baer and friends 1934.

The cover of the booklet sent to Baer read:
“Believe it or not- This is an Invitation for your 1934 vacation.”  

Then more pages of various inspirational poems and prose about the benefits of getting away.  

The last page said: “14 days in God’s Country: no women, no razor, no cares- Will you be with us?…Sign on the dotted line!!”


The space was signed by Curtis Clark, Red Sondheim, John Lauler, and Alvin Goethe.  Each person had the job of mailing it to the next person on the list (no chain letter threats needed to be made, it was all implied).


John Bitterling and Other Near Tall Tales:


Post #3 will present among other things some of the “tall tales” of area hunting.  However, there are some accounts of mountain life in Carbon County that edge up to qualifying as a tall tale.

Cover of Carlos Baer's 14 day trip in 1934.

Certainly shooting a large buck in the north woods of Carbon is a possibility.  But even the largest deer taken around the valley farmlands rarely exceed 200 pounds.


Berks County brothers, dentist Clarence DeLong and his sixteen-year-old brother David took to the swamps of Albrightsville and each came home with a deer. 


Dr. Clarence bagged a 150-pound Y-buck while David landed a deer topping 250-pounds (December of 1915.)  The elder DeLong said he saw five others.


John Bitterling:


As mentioned at the start, John Bitterling was one who relied on the hotels of the Hickory Run area, partial to the Dotter Inn.  He was one Allentown “city-slicker” who felt more at home in Carbon’s north woods. 


In early April of 1910, amid the early spring thaw and runoff, John Bitterling took his dog for a three day trek through the dense thickets of Hickory Run, Mud Run, and Leslie Run on a 40-mile circuitous walk from White Haven to Meckesville (the headwaters of Mud Run). 


One doesn’t set out on this type of journey just to scout trout, they do it because the land calls them.


          “It would seem from this fact, that man is naturally a wild animal, and that when taken from the woods, he is never happy in his natural state, ‘till he returns to them again.”

                   ~Dr. Benjamin Rush, signer of the Declaration of Independence and one                        who trained Merriwether Lewis on medicine and science at the American                      Philosophical Society in Philadelphia prior to his famous 1803 expedition.                   Rush's Society was the first think tank for science in the United States.  He                    formed it with Ben Franklin and others.


In August of 1897 (at the age of 40) Bitterling found a 200-pound black bear in a trap along the Mud Run.  Taking the bear alive in shackles and chains, he walked the bear back to Albrightsville to be sold. 
Catching a live bear when it's trapped and tanquilized today had to be easier
than it was in the Bitterling days.  Here Lawrence Getz (son of
Meckesville's "Potato King" Robert Getz) with his four sons
with a bear the Game Commission was trapping and studying near their
property in Jonas in the early 1990s.  L-R: Sons: Barry, Glenn, Larry,
and Bobby.  Lawrence is behind the bear.


(Game was often sold to hotels and inns for “hustle matches,” the shooting contests of that time–See Post #1).

November 1901 - Allentown Leader:
Bittlering and the Desch brothers

In the fall of 1901, Bitterling along with Wilson and Morris Desch, brought home 18 pheasants, 2 quail, and 4 rabbits in late October 1901.
 









Wilson and Morris had two other brothers and all four were avid marksmen and members of the Allentown Rod and Gun Club.  They were born on a Lehigh County farm of their minister father Henry. 




One October morning in 1909, Morris Desch challenged his friends to a squirrel shoot.  They met that at the Lynnport Hotel and made a gentleman’s wager as to who could fill their gunnysack with the daily limit of six. 

Morris Desch with a long barrel six-shooter.

Desch was back by 1:00, while the last man returned at 4:00.  Landlord Brobst made the men a fine squirrel stew, the losers bought the drinks I’m sure.


At the same time, Desch’s friend John Bitterling was hunting in the Poconos with other Allentown friends, the newspaper account told.


Bitterling’s adventures seem to border on the verge of tall tales, though nothing in his stories indicate any alternative truth telling. 


Bitterling was actually born in Jim Thorpe.  His family apparently happy and intact prior to his father’s service as 1st Lieutenant for Company F of the First Pennsylvania Rifles, the famous “Bucktail Regiment” (the men wore bucktails on their hats). 




The Bucktails were a well-known and respected sharpshooting regiment.    

Certainly a fact not lost here is that John Bitterling competed far and wide in trapshooting competitions across the state, as far away as Altoona.


See the end notes for more of the John Bitterling and 1st Lieutenant J. Charles Bitterling’s story.

Close-up of the fly-fisher from the letterhead of Brook
Trout Company hatchery of Penn Forest from 1917.
This is the picture I have of John Bitterling in
his days of stalking Mud and Leslie Runs.

Maybe you could say John Bitterling never had a master, a confirmed bachelor (and so were the Desch men). 


And maybe his true grit, his hearty and hale lifestyle, was borne from a “bitter” angst, of his loss, of growing up in the shadow of the hero’s battlefield death of his father when he was just a few years old.


But it was Bitterling’s mother who braved a journey into the war zone to retrieve her husband’s remains from the battlefield just eight days later.


Maybe the determination of such a mother is what instilled this truth into Bitterling’s soul. 


The Bitterlings, the Wernets, the Snyders, the Bergers, the Getzs, the Dotters…the Uncle Keen's and Henry's…they are all gone to us.  And like the last cries of the wolves, wolverines, and panthers that once bounced off the hills of Carbon County, their voices can still resonate within us, by taking the time to hear their stories.


History freely offers us these dream-like characters.  There is an unquestionable loss that burns in the living since the time of the Garden, from the days when the wilderness was our primal home.


And nothing can fulfill that need except the next journey to the wild.


~~~~~~~~


Here is the lawyer going over the paperwork with John's son Ralph Snyder (1910-1991) and Paul Held in 1950 with Paul's wife Lucille looking on.  Notice the empty chair.  It belonged to Charlie Snyder who probably couldn't bring himself to be around to watch his family homestead about to be sold out.  Charlie lived in a room of the hotel until his death in 1958.  Post #5 will offer more information about the Sndyer's Jonas Hotel.

Postscript: This post is dedicated to Tom and Ellen Held, for their patience and gracious help in writing this piece.  Most of the images appear courtesy of their collection.  All rights reserved, Tom and Ellen Held.


A perhaps glum or pensive Charles Snyder in his favorite
sitting spot at the hotel sometime after the Snyder's sold
the place to the Held family in 1950.
Charlie lived there another eight years.


 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

END NOTES POST #2:

1.     John Bitterling


John Bitterling died at 2:00 AM in Kidder Township on June 6, 1917.  He was sixty.
 

He was staying at his favorite inn, the home hotel of Ella Dotter.  Her husband Melchoir died the previous fall of Brights disease.  (His father Heinrich originally came from Dotter’s Eck, near Hotel Jonas.)

August 1, 1917 - Allentown Leader

Of dying breeds, Dotter was a cattle herder (probably running cattle from the rails to White Haven butchers), winter green distiller, and a small time inn operator.  (Wintergreen distilling post.)

Bitterling’s obituary said he was up for fishing (an avid fly fisher) and to provide an estimate to run some pipes in the clubhouse of Colonel Trexler’s Hickory Run game preserve, then the size of about 2,000 acres.  This land of course became Hickory Run State Park.  (See Post #1 for more on that.)


It seems like Bitterling circle of friends were a coterie of bachelors.  With him at Dotter’s Inn, was James Nonnemacher, a self-described “capitalist” and Allentown coal dealer.  (He lived with his unmarried sister and brother, outliving them both as well as outliving two house keepers.)

 From Allentown to the White Haven's north woods -
A Bitterling was either on a trip there or if not, certainly
always planning his next one - Fall 1908. 

Also with them was Allentown’s Harry Scheldon, a wooden stave barrel maker living at Barndt’s hotel.


About six months before his death, Bitterling presented a mountain ash tree to the city of Allentown.  Said to have bloomed “profusely” that spring, the tree seemed to be as hale and hearty as John himself.


But two months after his death, the tree too was dead and removed, as noted in the Allentown newspaper.
Pennsylvania Bucktail Regiment reenactors at Gettysburg - July 3, 2000:
This was the day the infamous 360 foot tower was imploded and removed
from the sacred ground.  Note the authentic bucktails on the hats of the men. 


John Bittlering grew up without a father.  J. Charles was second in command, First Lieutenant of the First Pennsylvania Rifles, also known as the Pennsylvania Bucktails.


The Bucktails were drawn out of a defensive posture around Washington DC in September 1862 as the Confederates were striking north into Maryland in what would become the bloodiest two-day battle of the war, Antietam. 


But as the men, under general command of Lancaster’s John Reynolds, hero and martyr of Gettysburg, Company F was part of 300 men asked to advance as skirmishers to force the Confederates left.  The Bucktails came under enfilading artillery and sharpshooter fire at South Mountain.


According to the regiment history, Bitterling cheered on the men of his command with his last breath.  He was buried on the battle field as the army quickly advanced toward Antietam Maryland.


Given this an almost rare foray into the north, meant that thankfully Bitterling was buried on friendly ground.  This allowed his young wife Celinda and her father the ability to track down his body and return it to Mauch Chunk (Jim Thorpe) to be buried with military honors. 


Celinda’s father was Daniel Keiper originally from Bowmanstown and a verteran of the War of 1812.  At the time of J. Charles’ death in September 1862, Daniel was 68 years old. 


Celinda’s mother was Salome Bowman or Bauman, the original family of “Bowman’s Station,” Carbon County.


Celinda and her young family moved to Allentown to be with her family.  Harriet would grow to become an Allentown Public School teacher and John became a plumber of his own shop.  He also had two other sisters Ella and Eva.


Celinda died in January 1917 and John unexpectedly followed her in July. 


J. Charles Bittlering was 34 and had four children who lived to adulthood.  Charles Henry was born in 1856 and died a year later as well as Gustavus Adolphus born in 1857 died in 1858.  John had three sisters. 

Portrait of 1st Lieutenant
J. Charles Bitterling of the
Pennsylvania Bucktails
before he was killed at
South Mountain, Sept 1862.

As the son of a veteran killed in action, Bitterling entered a trade school for fatherless sons of veterans in Texas.  He then set up his successful plumbing business with a partner.


He was director of the Pennsylvania State Sportsmans’ Association, member of the Elks, treasurer for the Master Plumber’s Association, Chamber of Commerce, director of the Hunter’s Range Association, Schwanewert Recreation Association, North End Gun Club, Little Lehigh Strollers, and the local Red Cross.


The Master Plumber Association held a surprise meal in Bitterling’s honor in January 1907, presenting him with a gold watch fob and gold seal.  They said though he was surprised, he was able to make comments suitable for the occasion.


His remains were received the next day at his home he shared with his sister, school teacher Miss Hattie Bitterling.  He also had two other sisters, Mrs Ella Jones, and Mrs. Eva Wenner, her husband John was the vice-president of the Allentown National Bank.

Another 1905 gun supply letter to Jonas Snyder from a Philadelphia Company selling Winchester products.


2.     Shoemaker’s “Stories of Pennsylvania Animals” circa 1915

Today’s deer harvests are much higher thanks to all of the conservation and applied science to Pennsylvania’s wilderness.


The habitat has stabilized from the impact of the wild ravages man inflicted here.  It could be said that Carbon gave its first born son to America’s growth, its world dominance today is rooted in the fuel our area gave, the subsidence of anthracite coal mining and the deforestation of our old growth forest.  So during Shoemaker’s time, our woods were still reeling from the impact.


Concerning fur bearing animals: the fisher, otter, beaver, and wolverine, Shoemaker said all four were once here in plentiful numbers.  And despite a healthy resurgence of river otters today, the wolverine are all long gone. 


Of fox, Shoemaker claimed the grey fox as the native one to the state.  The now more common red fox was imported in the late 1700s from Europe by hunters who claimed it gave better chase to the hounds.


Of big game, buffalo and elk were once native here.  Now elk are back on the rise. 

Of “stags,” it was said that the central part of the state once had a larger variety deer than exists today.  The northern Pennsylvania Mountains had a breed larger than the current herd. 


Our current herd descends from those stocked here from Michigan by Dr. Kalbfus from around 1900-1920 and from a smaller Southern Virginia deer. 



3.     Meckesville:


The Meckesville school house as it looked in 1954 - Photo by Roy Getz.


Meckesville still exists in the minds of many today, though a large tract of it has become Mt. Pocahontas development.  In fact, the current club house was the former home of Roger Meckes (1880-1958). (His father was Samuel Meckes (1834-1908), the youngest brother to Adam Meckes (1815-1897), brother to near oldest brother of fourteen Philip Meckes (1819-1900.)


It is little wonder the area was named this in light of so many.  One of Roger’s first cousins was Adam’s son Pierce (1860-1916).  By 1904, Pierce had given up on the farm life with his young family, having seen too little reward for the effort he applied.

Roger was a well-known potato farmer as well as Christmas tree dealer (see “Fire and the Fury” Post #1 for more on him).  Roger Meckes was land rich, but money poor toward the end of his life.


And that is how Robert Getz, “the Potato King” came to own his land.  The many farms of that area, Getz, Meckes, and Kibler, mainly grew potatoes there up until recent years.



4.     The Strauchs of Allentown

Their parents, Heinrich Strauch and Anna Foesche, came to America separately, both settling in Tamaqua’s “Dutch Hill” in the 1870s.  Heinrich was a butcher, later settling in Hacklebernie.


They lived in Lehighton for a time, but then moved to Allentown.


Only three of the eleven Strauch siblings ever owned a car.  The Strauchs simply walked.  Besides Henry, Edwin and Carl also owned cars, but that didn’t stop Carl, a Lehigh Professor of Literature, from taking “grand walks” of 12 or 15 miles or more.

Uncle Carl, a professor of the Romantics and especially Thoreau and his "social disobedience," had one daughter named Helen who grew to look out for her fellow man by adopting many children with special needs through a Roman Catholic agency. 

Carl's wife Helen was the daughter of D.G. Dery of Catasauqua, who controlled more silk mills than anyone else in the world. 

She appears to have been swept up by the winds of disenchantment, enfranchising herself with a Native American and Catholic Priest involved in a smaller group of the Plowshares Movement called the Silo Pruning Hooks. They took a jackhammer to a missile silo.  She served the longest prison sentence for peace activism of anyone in U.S. history.
 

All the other Strauch siblings worked in silk mills, except Anna Margaret, who was a telephone operator supervisor.  Anna Margaret, Leonard, and Lizzy never married. Kate’s husband was blacklisted for starting a union and “ran-off” to Canada.   


Uncle Henry’s huckleberry jaunts would begin at Hacklebernie and then cross the Switchback Railroad to end on the other side of the mountain in Nesquehoning.  It was always easier for him to hitchhike than to retrace back to his car.


Armed with two, one-quart lard pales tied around his neck with butcher twine, Henry was gone from morning to supper, always coming home to his sister with two full pales.  She’d make pie, always with lard in her homemade crusts. 

Well maybe not dying breed after all - Childhood friends since birth 30 years ago, Nate Melber and Nate Rabenold hunt at a farm family's hunting ranch.  The Melber family has been hunting with the same family, much like many did with the Getzs, Bergers, and Dotters of White Haven, for over thirty years.  And like those local families of long ago, the West Virginia family relies on the hunting season trade to make ends meet.  (November 2016)




We Are Fortunate, We Are Blessed - Memorial Day 2017

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We are fortunate.
We are blessed.

But still, we lose our finest to war.
A soldier's work is never done.

SPC Michael Wargo, right, with some of his buddies in Afghanistan.  
(With a name like "War Go," it seems like it was Michael's destiny
to go and serve his country.)


There will always be evil in the world.
War will always be necessary.

But we are not gathered here because of war.
We have come here, instead, to honor and remember those who served, who sacrificed their freedom for ours.

(The following is a transcript of my speech delivered at the Lehighton Memorial Day Ceremony on Monday May 29th, 10:30 Lehighton Amphitheater, concluding at the Lehighton Cemetery.)

Robert Frost's poem, "November," sums up the waste of war:
"We saw leaves go to glory,
Then, almost migratory,
Go part way down the lane,
And then to end the story,
Get beaten down and pasted
In one wild day of rain.

We heard "Tis over" roaring.
A year of leaves was wasted.
Oh, we make a boast of storing,
Of saving and of keeping.
But only by ignoring
The waste of moments sleeping,
The waste of pleasure weeping,
By denying and ignoring
The waste of nations warring."

Since 9/11, America has been in a constant state of war, our longest in our history.

It has been a necessary, but constant state of waste.
Many green leaves have been wasted.

From the Revolution through today, war has scarred millions of Americans.
Moses Rehrig's family plot in the Lehighton
Cemetery.  There is no visible marker for
Moses other than his GAR placard and flag.
Moses served nearly for the entire war,
including the last two months as a POW
at Andersonville, Georgia.  He served from
June 1861 to February 1863 with the 28th
PA Volunteers.  And then from March 1864
to June 1865 with the 116th.

Lehighton once had a fine gentleman named Moses Rehrig. 

He was a school teacher.  He served nearly the entire Civil War.

Before the war, he was a strapping 200-pounds on a 6' 4" frame.  

He returned home as a walking skeleton, enduring two months in the God-forsaken Andersonville POW Camp in Georgia where thousands of Union troops died.

He was one of Lehighton's favorite sons.  He served on town council, he marched in parades, he went to Sunday School.

But beneath his calm veneer, roiled the horrors that haunted his memory.

At the age of 71, Moses took his own life, hung himself from the rafters of his barn.  (He is buried at his family plot, but there is no marker there.  Either his family didn't provide a lasting marker or perhaps they were embarrassed by the stigma of his suicide.)

Another man, Marcus Maier, served in the 4th PA Cavalry.
This is Marcus Maier's grave at the Ss Peter and Paul Cemetery in Lehighton.
The fact that he "run off" twenty years after the war, spending his time
wandering from one old soldier's home to another, mostly in the South, is
most likely a testament to his struggles with PTSD.  What could he have been
looking for?  Was there some resolution he was seeking?  Was there someone
he was trying to find?  Or was he simply finding solace with the only people
who could understand what he was going through.

One day, twenty-years past his service, he up and wandered off.

Though he left a wife and son in Weissport, he wandered from old soldier home to soldier home, mostly in the South.  Most times registering as a "widower."

What ever could he have been looking for?  What was going on in his mind?  We will never know.

The first word his wife and son heard of him was fifteen years later, when a wire arrived informing them he had died in a Dayton Ohio soldiers home.  (His body was shipped home by rail.  He is buried in Ss. Peter and Paul Cemetery in Lehighton.)

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is nothing new.
But even today, it is little understood.

Lehighton new "Veteran's Park" along the Sgt. Stanley Hoffman Blvd will have a new soldier's monument dedicated to Specialist Michael Wargo, a 1994 graduate of Lehighton High.
Michael Wargo - 1976~2013
He was a 1994 graduate of Lehighton Area High School.

Like Moses, Michael was a teacher.  But after 9/11, Michael answered his nation's call to fight in Afghanistan.   

Like Moses and Marcus, Michael suffered from PTSD and didn't tell anyone.  

They survived the war, but brought the battle home with them.

And like Moses, Michael survived the war, but took his own life.  He died four years ago.

The Army recognizes his death as "service related" due to Michael's ordeal of seeing ten of his war buddies killed in action.  He came home with what is known as "survivor's guilt."

The monument, depicting Michael's silhouette, is a "War at Home" Memorial.  It will be dedicated at a ceremony on Saturday June 17th at 1:00 pm.
This larger than life, "War At Home," memorial of
Michael Wargo will soon be installed along the
Lehighton by-pass.  On May 23, 2017 it was on display
at the capitol in Harrisburg to highlight the struggles of
our veterans returning from modern warfare.  It will be
dedicated at a ceremony in Lehihgton on Saturday
June 17th at 1:00 pm.

Michael's parents, Michael and Sally, are here with us today.

These are tough months for them.
Sally last hugged her son on Mother's Day.  He died near Memorial Day.  He was buried on his birthday in June.

Men like Moses, Marcus, and Michael, and countless more, once walked here like you and me. 

They felt the dew on their feet and the sunshine on their faces.



They once loved and were loved.


Michael Wargo with his daughter Brianna
from 2010.




They once hugged and laughed, they once cried.
They once told us "I love you."


War is hell.

We owe an immeasurable debt to each man and woman who ever wore our nation's uniform.

Thank you for coming here today to honor them.


We should all know this freedom is not free...

We have seen these leaves go to glory.  It is our freedom but it is their story.

We cannot live by ignoring, rather we must remember this waste of warring.

We lose our finest to war.
A soldier's work is never done.
We are fortunate.
We are blessed.
May God continue to bless us all.






A once happy family - Michael married his college sweet-
heart Jill.  They had one daughter Brianna.








Christmas in Afghanistan: With a care-package from home.

Lehighton's 1936 Borough Hall Cornerstone Time-Capsule

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Lehighton was a thriving town.  Though it was at the height of the Great Depression, people in town had reason to be optimistic.  Lehighton was innovating itself: Dr. Lentz got his first X-ray machine installed in his office.

Contents of the 1936 time-capsule were first frozen for
eight months.  The freeze-dried process worked
exceedingly well.  However the items were still saturated
and needed drying.  Here the author hangs the documents
on June 16, 2017.

The Police Department modernized with a teletype machine, a .45-caliber machine gun, and bullet-proof glass windshield on its patrol-car.  This is in addition to the motor-cycle it purchased.

One newspaper article boasted that "Cupid laughed at the depression in Carbon County..." with 463 marriage licences issued in 1935.  1934 was equally a high year for weddings.  Both 1934 and 1935 beat out 1933 by 77.

Lehighton High's gymnastic team was on a streak as seven-time gymnastic champions.

(THIS POST IS A WORK IN PROGRESS - Please check back later in August for complete time-capsule contents and updated story content.  Thank you for your patience.)
Two seventy-year-plus traditions were in their infancy: The Senior Class attended the Mountain Lake House for its outing and 221 members of Lehigh Fire Co #1 held their annual August clambake at he Fair Grounds.

And with Lehighton new and modern Borough Hall, it seemed like nothing could hold our town down.

It all started when the building that housed the former Borough Chambers and Lehigh Fire Company #1 was deemed unsafe.  Built in 1893 and already showing signs of bulging walls by 1910, it was demolished by 1935 by a Works Progress Administration labor crew at a cost of $4,286.


By application to the Public Works Administration, another Depression-era recovery program, furnished 45% of the capital needed to build a new hall.  Ground was broken on March 4 and quickly ready for a dedication ceremony on Sunday May 10, 1936.


The program was extensive.  There was a concert by the Lehighton Band as well as the Boys’ Band followed by a prayer by Rev F. Theodore Miner.


Speakers were Chairman and Borough Solicitor George E. Gray, Historian and Superintendent of Schools Bert David, and Dr. Clarence Weiss, a direct descendent of Lehighton’s benefactor Jacob Weiss.  Chief Burgess (Mayor) William Zahn laid the cornerstone.

Which brings us back to today.








A few weeks after the dedication however things went sour for Mayor Zahn.  A farmer from Mahoning Valley, Wallace Drumheller, pinned Zahn's leg against a parked car and his as Drumheller swung his car into a parking spot in front of the new Borough Hall.  Many were said to gap as they drove by the modern new building.

Mayor Zahn's condition was serious.  He spent over two-weeks in the Palmerton Hospital.  An ambulance had to deliver Zahn home when he continued weeks of bed-rest.  Zahn was the owner of the Lehighton News Agency.
The American Legion announces Carbon County
Beauty Queens at festivities at Graver's Pool in the Summer of 1936.

After Lehighton's Sesquicentennial festivities had ended in July 2016, members of the committee sought to find the time-capsule apparently left behind by the Centennial Committee in 1966.

As a result of searching for it, Sesquicentennial Committee member Autumn Abelovsky and others accidentally discovered damage was occurring to the contents of the time-capsule in the Borough Hall cornerstone of 1936.  

(State Police from Hazleton were called in to use an ultra-sound and fiber-optic camera to determine if there indeed was a time-capsule in 1936 cornerstone.  Click here for times news story).  (Click here for a video of Lehighton Borough Manager Nicole Beckett removing the wet materials on YouTube.)


Due to the porous nature of the Foxchase marble and stone used to build the Borough Hall, the lead sealed tin box had corroded causing the contents to become saturated in water.


Preservation experts were consulted.  It was determined that the best course of action was to freeze the paper materials for eight months, thereby “freeze drying” the sopping wet documents and pictures.


On June 16, 2017 the contents were removed by Ron Rabenold and Autumn Abelovsky from the freezer and though substantially less saturated, were still dripping wet.  Paper items were placed on drying lines over the weekend and carefully inventoried and digitally scanned and photographed.


Among the treasures found: 1936 coins donated by various council members, a copy of the Lehighton Evening Leader and Lehighton Press, a Leni Lenapian from 1934, list of Lehighton’s Board of Health, a hand card of Lehighton Borough Council members, archives clarifying the spelling of Mahoning Valley famer Philip Ginder’s name.


There was also a nine-page document chronicling the efforts to construct the new building and a list of the Lehighton School faculty and staff.  There was an eight-page, hand-written list of all the members of the Lehigh Fire Co #1 and a synopsis of Lehighton’s post office by Postmaster Wilbur Warner which included a list of all Lehighton’s postmasters.


There was also a King James Bible and a 1936 State of Pennsylvania Borough Code book.  Neither of these books had any inscriptions or notes indicating any special significance.  


As a result, all the historical information was preserved.  The pictures were still intact while frozen.  But immediately deteriorated at room temperature.  Effort was given to scan them, but the damage was too quick and severe. 


But as luck would have it, an exact copy of the picture of the former hall was available through the Barry and Brad Haupt photo collection.  As for a photograph of the 1936 Councilman Edward Teets’ children, a digital copy was secured by a family member, although it is not the exact same photo, it shows the Teets children at roughly the same age.


The sheet of 1936 stamps are in perfect shape.  Water soaked the contents from the bottom up.  Luckily these were placed on the top.

Picture taken at the Lehighton Fair Grounds of the Lehigh Fire Co #1's Annual August Clambake with 221 firemen in
attendance.  Men in the center with aprons looked like they had a long day.  Ticket prices for the all you can eat and drink event were $3.00 in those days.  This annual event continues today at the Orioles Club and is still Lehigh Fire Co members only.  Though there is plenty of a variety of other foods and is still all you can eat, you are guaranteed only two dozen clams.
Today's ticket will cost you $30.


This picture from the Brad and Barry Haupt Photo Collection is near identical to the one placed in the cornerstone time-capsule of 1936.  See further below for the original.  Originally built in 1893 for Borough Chambers on the 2nd floor (and Knights of Malta on the 3rd floor) it had to be demolished in 1935.   


These are the temporary quarters of the Lehigh Fire Co #1's social quarters around 1936 while they awaited their new (and current) building.  The first building at this location was built in 1893.  By 1910 the walls were bulging and support beams deteriorated.  It is believed this location was in a garage to the rear of the current Fire House.
 23August 1938 Morning Call

~~~~~~~~

(THIS POST IS A WORK IN PROGRESS - Please check back later in August for complete time-capsule contents and updated story content.  Thank you for your patience.)

~~~~~~~~



Listed below are the scans and pictures of the 
rest of the 1936 time capsule:

Water-damaged photo of the 1893-1935 Lehighton Borough Hall and Lehigh Fire Co #1
on Third St, Lehighton.

Edward Teet's children sitting outside on a lawn - MaryAnn and William appear as ghosts.













Grasping at Atonement - Lehighton's Viet Nam Last Man's Club 49th Banquet

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Divisions still remain.  Some old.  Some renewed.


My speech was meant as a peace offering from my generation back to theirs.  That our generation, the one that grew up in the shadow of their shaming, was here to try to understand them, that 

at we wish nothing less for them than their full atonement.
Ed Hoats was a founding leader of the club with his brother-in-law
Bruce Geary.  Ronald Christman worked for PP&L after his service
time.  He died of a heart attack at a fairly young age.  He should not be
confused with the other Vietnam-era of the same name, Marine Lance Cpl
Ronald S. H. Christman who was killed in February 1968.


(There will be more pictures posted to this page soon.  Please check back soon.)

But it was not our battle.  We were not the ones who turned their back to their struggle.  We could not atone for that.  Best we can offer is to not forsake them now.  

To promise them that we will remember, who they were and what they gave.


Vietnam.  We were involved there before Korea.  And still, we weren’t ready.


While they were chasing ghosts in the jungle, our country was tearing itself apart.


Sitting down at the 49th Annual Viet Nam Last Man’s Club dinner last night I was struck by how things change and how they stay the same.

Ronald Stewart Henry Christman -
1 June 1948 to 28 February 1968
Landed in southern Vietnam on January 3rd
with the Marine Medium Helicopter Squadren
262.  In his last letter home dated 21 February,
Christman stated how his was the only unit
flying in and out of Khe Sanh with an estimated
40,000 communist ranks of soldiers below.
Perhaps unknowable is the strain on the parents
in burying their children.  Ronald's mother
Lousie died five years later at the age of 47.

Obviously these men that served fifty years ago have changed (aged) a good deal.  But what was plainly abundant was their commitment to the country they served and especially their commitment to each other.


I had the pleasure of sitting with VNLMC President Dale Nansteel and Sgt.-At-Arms Mitchell Nace and his wife Linda.  Also joining us was former Lehighton teacher and Kutztown University professor Dr. Dale Titus. 


Titus was a navy veteran who served in Viet Nam from 1967 to 1968. He shared several keen observations, including how welcomed he felt in the streets of South Vietnam upon a return visit there. 

Dr. Dale Titus, served in the navy
in Vietnam and former Lehighton
area teacher and professor emeritus
at Kutztown University.

He found citizens of his era walking up to him thanking him for his service and how they too fought on the side of the South.


Which brings me to the point of my message that evening: To measure what we have lost and what we have gained and to gather a sense of atonement from it all.


(This remainder of this article is both a paraphrase of my words as well as a record of this 49th banquet.  

The pictures of this post were presented to those in attendance via a PowerPoint presentation.  My attempt to bridge my understanding of them to their service.)

I can only imagine that it hasn’t been easy for you.


Conflict was a euphemism for the war.


  


Specifically, what your generation has lost and what it has given could easily be overlooked.


Recently, the Legion sold the Franz Kline mural 'Lehighton.'  This has been a cause that has divided opinion among some.  And Franz Kline too, in his short life, experience conflict as well.


Your generation and Kline both share a common distinction: you both suffered through loss and conflict.  


But we cannot go back.  We should try not to live in regret.  It is easy to allow nostalgia linger and feed those feelings.
The Lehighton Legion Menu from the early
1950s.

 
The seafood platter served at the 49th annual club dinner was nearly
identical to the platter routinely served at the Legion in the 1950s.
But it is also where the roots of your generation’s war were, the beginnings of Vietnam.


The Vietnam ‘Conflict.’  We all know those who were in the thick of it knew it as war,

And you gathered here know more than most, how war certainly is hell.


Bill Kirkendall was a B-52 tail-gunner
with 50 missions over Europe.
Sons like David grew up in the shadow
of their fahters' glories of WWII.
For them, Vietnam was a bitter pill
to swallow.

Petty Officer David
Kirkendall served
September 1967 to
November 1971.  He was killed
in a car accident back home in
August 1972.
His Japanese wife Sumi and son
Frank were in Japan at the time.
Frank grew up to join the navy.
He died in 2007 at the age of
46.

To add insult to injury, you couldn’t even talk about it.


Fellow veterans didn’t even dare mention their prior service to strangers, and in some cases, those strangers were veterans themselves, afraid to mention the war to new acquaintances.






Your father’s fought a glorious war, you hung around in the shadows of their popular service.


Gene Semanoff - Served in the Air
Force during Vietnam.
Gene's father, Joe Semanoff served in the
101st Airborne in Europe.
















You have gathered here to honor the memory of those fallen from us and to celebrate those who are still here.


All of us are the sum of all our parts.  And sometimes we can realize how we can be greater than the sum of our parts.  This is true for this group.  This is true for you as an individual.   All of you have been molded by the Vietnam era.


You are gallant.


You are gentle men and you are gentle ladies.

Glen "Smokey" Troutman (VNLMC VP), Randy Rabenold (Korean Last Man's Club), Henry Long, Captain Pete Semanoff, and father Gene Semanoff at a 2014 Memorial Day Service at the Lehighton Area Middle School.

Glenn "Smokey" Troutman from his Lehighton yearbook along with fellow Vietnam veteran classmate Gary Vanage.  Gary's name was added to the list of the dead honored at each year's banquet in 2005.
You are heroes.


You have served us well, and we the community of Lehighton are better for having fine men and women like you who she can call her sons and her daughters.


As a historian and fellow son of Lehighton, a son of a Korean War soldier, I want you to know, how grateful I am to you.  I am proud to have grown up under the shadow of your great and self-less serving and sacrifice.



I hope you will accept my deepest gratitude.


Near the end of our conversation, Dr. Titus made one last observation.


Our modern fleet ships are built differently: Gone are the side-decks, staffing is down, and with everything so dependent on sonar, control is made from a windowless room.   He believed these were the conditions that have lead to the current spate of collisions.


In other words, the new navy is so stealthy that command and control is left with a limited view.  

Clearly the WWII veterans vanquished an evil and were
victorious.  The Korean Vets, though far from a complete
victory, has had been granted many shows of gratitude
from the South Korean government over the years.
Though relations between Vietnam and the West
have recently improved, our Vietnam veterans
have not received the same regard as their fathers
received.

Perhaps that is where atonement can begin, in seeing the whole picture.


It was suggested by Titus to find a Vietnamese refugee that found a new home here in America to speak at next year's banquet.


Surely these veterans could find some solace in hearing a survivor's story, someone who has benefited from their toil and sacrifice.


After the toast to the dead with the red wine and the toast to the living with the white, names of VNLMC members who died in the previous year were named: Al Buchignani, Stewart Alboucq, Robert Emmert, and Gary Neifert.





VNLMC Chaplain Sue Snyder offered both the opening and closing prayer.  And Sec/Treas David Bryfolge wished for prayers to all in attendance that they will once again be with them in 2018.

Multiple generations of Lehighton soldiers could celebrate
their service with pride.  Here Marines from WWI to Korea join in celebrating
the Marine Corps' 193rd birthday in 1968.  Absent is a representative
of that current war.  Vietnam vets found it tougher to receive
public recognition for their service.  Shown here are (l-r): WWII Walter Metzger, Frank Wehr of Summit Hill, Korea Don Blauch, and WWI Charles Shutt (who was best known for firing the cannon at Lehighton home football games.  Don Blauch's daughter was a member of the VNLMC.


~~~~~
End Notes:
The following names are recorded by the club as those who were killed in action and those members who have since died of other causes.
The former high school/junior high in Lehighton was recently named
after Pfc Clyde Houser who was lived just down the street
on South St before moving to Held St on Union Hill.













KIA: Ronald S.H. Christman (Not to be confused with the Ronald Christman pictured earlier.)
Clyde R. Houser Jr.
Leon D. Eckhart
Charles R. Jones
Merlin Hollenbach
Twenty-one year old Merlin Hollenbach had visited
back home to Lehighton between boot camp and
landing in Vietnam.  His good-byes are still
remembered as prophetic to his friends who look
back at that time.










Newly married, arrived in Vietnam
on his 21st birthday.  He died 3 days
before Christmas, 1968.

Subsequent Deaths:
Charles Ahner, Douglas Beck, Henry Beck, William Beck, Douglas Beers, Robert Beers, Wilmer Berger, Donna Blauch, Kenneth Bretz, Ronald Christman, William Crowley, Bert David, Richard Dean, Warren Dresher, Ernest Eidem, Dennis Exner, Dean Gilbert, William Graver, Kermit Heiland, Robert Q. Koch, Robert Horvath, Raymond Heiland, David Kirkendall, Edward Korastinsky, Robert Lewis, Albert Lichenwalter, David Mertz, Harold Long, Harr D. Miller, Walter S. Metzger, Charles Moser, Robert G. Mowery, Donald Niehoff, Donald Reichard, Richard J. Richter, Carl Schoenberger, Joe J. Slanina, Terry Snyder, Kenneth Snyder, Gary G. Solt, Philip I. Stiegerwalt, Dennis Sullivan, Gary Vanage, Lee F. Wentz, Neal E. Yehl, Jim Young, Charles Yenser, Edward Zellner, Thomas V. Smith, Fred Young, William M. Graver Sr., Robert Yanero, Charles Solt III, Warren E. Long Sr., Ronald E. Taschler, Donald E. Ziegenfus, Dennis Sander, Thomas A. Meehan, Leroy A. Hefflefinger, Thomas C. Geshel, John S. Kobal, Thomas A. Polk, William C. Newton Jr., Leonard K. Zellner, John Kriel, Paul Hancharik, James Holland, Larry E. Smith, Robert C. Stien, Robert G. Moser, Warren R. Remaley, Dennis C. Dotter, Roger L. Kocher, Conrad A. Stahre, Martin L. Rex, George N. Kraftician, Dana Beisel, Richard Beltz, Lamont Hunsicker, Carl Everett.  
From the 1971 Lehighton yearbook.
Holland was a member of the Lehighton
Fire Company, served on the school board,
and a member of the VNLMC.











Daughter of Korean war Veteran Donald Blauch, Donna Blauch
enlisted out of Lehighton High in the early 1970s.  She rose in the
naval ranks and served President Carter's family as their personal
dental hygienist working on them at Camp David.  She died due to
complications of M.S. at the Wilkes-Barre V.A. Hospital in 2007.
  








Within the past year:
Al Buchignani, Stewart A. Alboucq, Robert N. Emmert, and Gary Neifert.

The Morning Call - February 1966

Strauch

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Stones and Seeds Sown on the Lea – 
The Life and Letters of Lehighton’s Carl F. Strauch


“But as one passes the Cairn, one compulsively drops                                    his own little stones.”
                                                         ~Carl Strauch

This striking picture of Carl F. Strauch, with his trademark
pipe, was taken by then Lehigh student Lou Stoumen in
1939.  Stoumen would earn two Academy Awards in
documentary film making.  This photo won several
Lehigh Valley area awards.
Born to impoverished German immigrants in Jamestown, Carbon County, Carl F. Strauch may have lacked the pedigree of some in his field, but the depth and breadth of his literary acumen was undeniable.  His life’s work of research and analysis earned him the respect of most everyone who ever met him.


He published his book, Twenty-Nine Poems in 1932, at the wide-eyed age of twenty-four.  Frequently cited in masters’ theses and doctoral dissertations, he wrote dozens of scholarly articles published by the Emerson Society Quarterly and elsewhere.  

He was a nationally recognized authority on Ralph Waldo Emerson and wrote widely influential pieces on him as well as Whitman, J.D. Salinger, and Melville, especially on Moby Dick


He was the ever popular English professor at Lehigh University for forty years, he was stirring and dramatic professor, with a self-professed Socratic bent.  His hiring from instructor to professor was tragically marked with the on-campus murder of English professor C. Wesley Phy.  Strauch subsequently filled Phy’s chair.

The Lehigh University English Department as it look in 1935 before C. Welsey Phy's murder.  Back row second from the left is Carl F. Struach, to his left is Phy, the man whose chair Strauch
would occupy after the June 4, 1936 campus murder-suicide.

Among his many accolades and accomplishments, Strauch was among the few people entrusted with the key to Harvard’s Widener Houghton Library, the first repository of its kind in the nation devoted to the preservation and study of the original manuscripts and rare books from among America’s literary heritage, including Emerson and Thoreau. 


The inside flyleaf of Strauch's 1932 Twenty-Nine Poems.
He spent the summer of 1942 at the Fogg Memorial Library in Boston by special permission of the Emerson family to investigate the personal correspondence of Emerson.  The unfettered access and intimate interaction to Emerson’s own papers and letters placed Strauch among the top three researchers of Emerson in the world.


Perhaps the capstone to his storied career was the posthumous resolution by the Emerson Society of Cambridge, Massachusetts.  The Society called Strauch “one of the few who met Henry David Thoreau’s high criterion, to serve with conscience as well as with body and mind.”


With a biting, and at times a withering wit, the ever apodictic Strauch, knew no limits in his ever upward-spiral toward complete mastery of the Romantics and Transcendentalists. 










The titles of just a few of Strauch’s essays and critiques themselves are thought-provoking: Kings in the Back Row: Meaning through Structure- A Reading of Salinger’s ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ (1961), The Year of Emerson’s Poetic Maturity: 1834 (Oct 1955), Emerson’s Unwilling Senator (1966), Romantic Harmony and the Organic Metaphor (handwritten copy), The Problem of Time and the Romantic Mode in Hawthorne, Melville, and Emerson, and Style in the American Renaissance (1970).

A 1940s picture of Professor Strauch.

He was transformative.  He transcended himself. 


He was ever and simply Strauch.


Carl F. Strauch was the youngest of eleven children who grew to adulthood.  His father Heinrich was a butcher and emigrated to Tamaqua, Pennsylvania with his parents and his brother John in 1879 when he was twenty-one.  Strauch’s mother, Anna-Margaret Foesch, arrived with her brother Michael in 1887.  Heinrich and AnnaMargaret married on September 24th, 1888 at the Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church, on Tamaqua’s “Dutch Hill.”

Their first child, Strauch’s oldest sibling Maria (pronounced Mariah), my dear grandmother ‘Mary,’ was born there on October 3, 1889. 


The Strauchs struggled among the Sharp Mountain area miners.  Frequent strikes put a strain on everyone.  When Heinrich’s father John died in April 1898, the Strauch’s moved to Hacklebernie, a small mining village west of Mauch Chunk.  

The remote village rested between the Mammoth-vein coal quarry operations of Summit Hill and the coal transport hub town of Mauch Chunk.  Hacklebernie nestled along the hillside on the downhill run of the Switchback Railroad.  
The mighty Allentown Strauchs in 1917 - The beautiful Caroline 'Lena' sits at the right hand of her father Heinrich. 
The portrait was said to be taken in prepartion for Lena's eventual demise from consumption in October 1917.  Carl, the youngest sits between his parents with his favorite sister Margaret behind him.  His mother Anna-Margaret and sister Elizabeth finish out the front row.  Back row: Henry, Leonard, Kate, Louie, Willy, Mary, and Edwin.  Heinrich and Anna-Margaret met in Tamaqua after each had emigrated from Germany.  The lived for about two years in Hacklebernie and then about twelve years in Lehighton.  After 1911, they moved to downtown Allentown where Heinrich opened his own butcher shop.

The famed Switchback’s eighteen-mile gravity railroad was a leading national tourist attraction of the time.  It was among the many topics discussed between Strauch and Weird Tales author H. P. Lovecraft. 


Carl Ferdinand Strauch was the last child born to Heinrich and Anna Margaret on September 25, 1908 while the family still resided in the Jamestown section of Lehighton.  By then, Heinrich worked in a “slaughter house” most likely Obert’s Packing House on First Street Lehighton.

Strauch's Father: Impassive as ever even
in his later years, Heinrich Strauch
was said tobe a brooding, temperamental man.

As a young boy with a small stature, he grew to a giant from his books.


Strauch remembered the moment he knew books would be his life.  “I stood only four feet in a family of tall, lean giants.”  His immersive into books was the result of a memorable pummeling he received in the neighborhood sand lot. 


Though only reaching to five foot nine as an adult, reading made him feel as though he were “seven feet, ten inches tall.” 


The other Strauchs were exceedingly tall.  The older men were over six feet.  Sisters Mary and Margaret were each over five feet eight. 


He was a man of high ideals.  His exacting standards were rooted deeply in the Lutheran faith, yet Strauch trembled not before any god.  To some, Strauch was god.  Former student and later longtime friend of Strauch, Professor Alex Liddie once said, “I was always in awe of him.”


If I was a Carpenter, and you were a Lady…”


Romance entered his life when he met Helen Dery on blind-date, doubles tennis match in 1935.  She was the daughter of Austrian-born D. G. (Desiderius George) Dery.  Dery came to America in 1887 as a foreman to a New Jersey silk manufacturer.

 
A young and still prospering D. G. Dery
from the 1890s.
By 1919 Dery owned forty-two mills employing around 10,000 workers.  Eight of those mills were in the Lehigh Valley.  He was the largest single silk producer in the world.  He built a lavish Fifth and Pine Street home in Catasauqua with a ballroom, solarium, indoor pool, and a wing to house his art collection.  The 56-room mansion also had a basement lounge known as the Dery Room with leaded glass foundation windows with stained glass scenes of Native Americans in various pursuits of big Pennsylvania game animals. 

  
A man of many interests, D. G. had an observatory and a scientific research laboratory installed in 1917 as well as a false-paneled wall to conceal his writing room where he penned articles and novels. 


D. G. wrote at least two novels.  Under the Big Dipper was praised by H. L. Mencken as an “impressive first work of an unknown writer.” Another was entitled Jean Kressley.  Strauch became the perfect fit son-in-law for Dery.

This Februrary 1924 article claimed Dery owned
"nearly sixty mills."  Dery's fortunes were in full
reversal by the end of 1922.

Strauch once said his father-in-law’s father was part of the landed gentry of Baja, Hungary.  “Not part of the nobility, but one step below it.”  The father took part in the Austrian revolution in 1848 and had to flee Russian troops sent in to quash the rebels.  From then on he had to seek refuge in a tiny corner of the empire.  But as fate would have it, it was where he met his wife. 


According to Strauch, D. G. Dery was a man of style and taste that reflected his Austrian-Hungarian upbringing.  “He was a gentleman of the old school.  I could never imagine him in blue-jeans.” 


By the 1920s, with world silk prices in drastic decline, Dery fell on hard times and had to abandon his mansion and moved to the smaller house across the street.  But his financial failure didn’t change the man.  

A modern day view of the Dery Mansion
today.  More can be viewed at the end
of this article.
The D. G. Dery Mansion in finer days with bunting.  This view appears
to predate the extensive 1917 remodeling by D. G. Dery.
Photo courtesy of
Borough of Catasauqua History Page - can be accessed by clicking here
.
He continued his astronomical observations, writings, and speaking engagements.  In his last days he moved into the Bethlehem home of Strauch and Helen, dying there in 1942.  With the property in receivership since the 1930s, the observatory was used by air raid wardens during the war.  Wiring was installed to sirens at the Phoenix Fire House from the mansion.
The disrepair and vandalism of the Dery mansion at Fifth and Pine Streets in Catasauqua in July 1942.  In the 1950s it was converted into luxury apartments, the downstairs lounge and bar were available for wedding receptions.  In the 1980s, the Albert Moffa family attempted to restore it to its former grace and lived there for a short time.  However it has once again fell into disuse as it is a far too expensive property for a single owner to maintain.  See the After Notes section for some modern photos of the mansion as it appears today.


A 1985 article in the Morning Call about Albert Moffa and his renovations of the Dery Mansion.  Shown here the subterranean "Dery Lounge" basement bar of Dery.  Note the curved wall with the leaded glass.  That end of the room was at the base of his observatory tower.
Dery’s wealth afforded him opportunities in art.  Of mutual interest to him and his wife and in-laws was their shared interests in the arts. D. G. Dery had an extensive collection, of which Strauch referred to as “sentimental.”  Dery had a 17th century reliquary of Christ on the Cross, a Carrara marble state, the “Blind Girl,” modeled on a character in Bulwer-Lytton’s 19th century novel, “The Last Days of Pompeii.”  
D. G. Dery's art purchases made the news in
February 1912.

Dery’s taste reflected his upbringing in middle class 19th century Vienna.  “If he had put himself in the hands of an art expert, he would have been able to acquire Impressionists for almost nothing,” Strauch was once quoted in a 1984 article of Dery in the Morning Call.


And so began the life of the son of a several-times-over-broke German butcher and the daughter of a wealthy and soon to be broke silk industry magnate.  Helen majored in art at the Harcum College in Bryn Mawr and was active in the Civic Little theatre and spent considerable time engaged in extensive travel and study of Europe.  
One of Helen Dery's charcoal sketches from her
Harcum College yearbook.  It was at about this time
that she studying the art of Europe.  She met Strauch
shortly after her return. 

Both Helen and Strauch presented their work at a spring 1937 Muhlenberg College art show.  She, pencil portraits and water colors, while he showed surrealistic charcoal and pen and ink masks.


Strauch was known in circles from H. P. Lovecraft to H. L. Mencken and from W.H. Auden to Robinson Jeffers.  

Mencken, who believed that every community produced a few people with clear superiority who distinguish themselves by their will and personal achievement, had a penchant for seeking out and affiliating himself with like-minded thinkers. Strauch expressed an almost familial bond with Mencken, to whom he described as his “friend, guide, and mentor.”


“A subtle chain of countless rings

The next unto the farthest brings;

The eye reads omens where it goes,

And speaks all languages the rose;

And, striving to be man, the worm

Mounts through all spires of form.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson from ‘Nature’

From the 1932 Muhlenberg yearbook the five students and their advisers who started the inaugural Phi Sigma Iota national
honor Romance language society.  Centered and bow-tied, the indefatigable Edward Fluck along with an equally smiling Carl F. Strauch to his left.

While a student at Muhlenberg in 1928, he along with five other students started the Lambda chapter of the Phi Sigma Iota, national honor Romance language society.  The fraternity was the first of its kind at Muhlenberg. 


Strauch received his B.A. from Muhlenberg in 1930 and immediately took his first job there as Assistant Librarian.  It was during this time that he developed a friendship with H. P. Lovecraft through their mutual friend, Dr. Harry K. Brobst.  Strauch earned his M.A. from Lehigh in 1934 and joined the Lehigh English department the same year.  On at least one occasion Strauch was welcomed into Lovecraft’s Providence Rhode Island home.

Before Email, Twitter, and Texting - Lovecraft sent
sketches of his new abode to Strauch.  And when Strauch
too moved to his new home in Bethlehem, he returned
sketches of his own to Lovecraft, including a schematic layout.

He attended Penn for graduate work in German, “But when the depression deepened for me I came home and enrolled at Lehigh…I was not following a Tennysonian Gleam.”  For me, “There was no Gleam.”


Though Lehigh didn’t have the prestige of “Swarthmore, Haverford, Amherst, or Williams,” he said his exposure to “high standards and good teaching began in 1933 at Lehigh.”


In 1934 Professor Robert M. Smith offered him a job.  To which Strauch commented, “Happenstance was beginning to provide some footing.”  The June of 1936 murder-suicide by Clow was a bizarre twist to Strauch’s gleam.

Lovecraft's layout sketch - Appears courtesy of S. T. Joshi
 and David E. Schultz’s H. P. Lovecraft: Letters
to J. Vernon Shea, Carl F. Strauch, and Lee McBride White
,
Hippocampus Press (2016).

“It was a cruel quirk that led me to American Literature.”


This bizarre and tragic ‘cruel quirk’ happenstance launched his Lehigh career.  The killing took place at Lehigh’s Christmas-Saucon Hall on the morning of June 4th, 1936. 


Strauch heard what he thought at first was the popping of fireworks.  Realizing it was a full month before Independence Day and sensing something was amiss, he dashed into the hallway outside his office.  There he found the body of stand-out Lehigh wrestler Welsey Clow with a gunshot wound to his head. 

News of Phy's murder
and Clow's suicide swept
the country.  This article
came from Santa Cruz to
Detroit to Altoona.  This
article from the June 6, 1936
 Indiana's
Journal and Courier paper.

Clow was a senior mining engineering major who was failing at least two classes.  One was metal-mining, the other was in Professor Phy’s English class.  On the night before the murder, Clow phoned Phy’s home and warned Phy’s wife with an ominous tone that his grade better be changed by 7:00 pm that night.


The next morning, he first went into the office of the mining professor but he wasn’t there.  So Clow proceeded to the office of Phy. 


A fraternity brother of Clow’s happened to be in Phy’s office taking an exam and witnessed the murder.  He heard them exchange words about re-examination but Phy stated he needed written permission from the dean to proceed. 


Then Clow said “Well” while he pulled the 38 revolver from his pocket.  Phy jumped up and shouted “No, you don’t!” while Clow fired two shots into his chest. 


Despite one of the shots hitting his heart, Phy was able to run down a flight of stairs to the infirmary and died at the feet of campus physician Dr. Raymond C. Bull.


On the floor above, Strauch opened his office door, which faced Phy’s, to find the body of Wesley Clow.  After seeing the gun and realizing Clow’s life had ceased by his own hand, Strauch phoned the police.

As their picture appeared in the Call-Chronicle, Allentown's
Morning Call.


















It was the first campus murder-suicide in U.S. history.


The Man of Letters:

Helen Dery's 1937 engagement picture.

Carl F. Strauch married Helen Dery in New York City on September 1, 1937, just as he launched into his doctoral studies at Yale.  He completed his Ph.D. there during summers and breaks from 1937 and to 1946.  On July 2, 1953, he was promoted from “associate” to “full professor” at Lehigh.  Their only child, Helen ‘Dery’ Strauch was born in 1944.


Dr. Alex Liddie, the former student, colleague and friend, said “His courses were an extension of the man…he had an academic aura that imparted equal parts expertise and personal philosophy.”


Your sense of humility overtakes you.  Noiselessly, the little stones you’ve collected drop to the ground.  Why look down?  Alas you stand in the presence of greatness.  A nod of the head and it is bestowed upon you.  Little traces left behind for those who may follow.  Let them ferment and take root, the radical searching onward and upward, the pathway is clear.  Follow now onto greatness.

Liddie heard of him while he was still in high school.  His older brother had taken Strauch as an elective and was mesmerized.  He told Alex he had to take him even though he was a business major.  This bit of happenstance would forever change the course of his life. 


Though Liddie finished his B.A. in business at Lehigh, he went onto his M.A. and Ph.D. at Rutgers in literature, becoming a teacher of English specializing in American Literature at Trenton State College.  He also served as chair of the English department.  Thus the lives of countless and successive students were transformed, fueled by the power of Strauch’s persona.


According to Liddie, Strauch wasn’t only “a serious and authoritative scholar” but was also “a showman, a commander of the classroom, a raconteur, and the life of a party.” 

Yet, Strauch could also be acerbic and vituperative.  Strauch was a rock, his eminence could be both imposing and impassable.  He could be both an obstacle and a blessing to both his colleagues and his family alike. 


He held the unfettered devotion from his daughter, a daughter who took the principles of his teachings to the extreme, following her own blind faith and determination beyond the pale of passive disobedience.  

Her unflinching devotion to the cause of peace and life made history.  Helen Dery Strauch Woodson became the longest incarcerated peace activist in U.S. history.
 

Professor Liddie had this to say:

“Carl and I stayed in touch until just before his death…He was my frequent overnight house guest and he attended my second wedding in '77…He was a colorful character, worthy of a mini-biography, and perhaps a mystery to his family…I had such utter and complete respect for him, we all were in awe of him.”

Professor Alex Liddie along with his wife Patricia at home. 
Liddie was a long-time and loyal friend of Strauch who graciously
gave his time to the publication of this article. 
Though they grew quite close in Strauch's declining years,
Liddie said he was always "in awe" of Strauch.

Perhaps his discipline of the mind sourced back to a severe childhood.


Strauch’s nephew, Randy Rabenold of Lehighton, described his grandfather Heinrich Strauch as a “gloomy” and tyrannically “stern” man, who “never smiled and rarely spoke.”  There is no mention in family lore of any of the siblings ever working in Heinrich’s meat shop.


The Strauch siblings rarely spoke of their physically powerful father.   It wasn’t until some thirty years after Heinrich’s death that Carl Strauch began to discuss the corporal abuse and fear he harbored of his father with his favorite sister.  It was in the 1970s after the death of his wife that Carl renewed his close bond with his sister Anna-Margaret (“Margaret”).    


Their second oldest brother Lewis, fifteen years older than Carl, seemed to inherit their father’s mean streak.  Carl remembered one blow he received from this brother as particularly devastating and memorable.  Lewis was a loom fixer in a silk mill.

This is the faded hex sign from the author's Great Uncle
Raymond Haas's Weissport barn from the 1960s.

Strauch considered himself fairly athletic.  He loved baseball and met his wife on the tennis court.  He savored his walks into nature, taking in country scenes.  He had a proclivity for “great walks” of fifteen or twenty miles, often times logging fifty or sixty miles in a week.  Descriptions of crooked farmhouse chimneys, weathered hex signs, and meadows of gnarled apple orchards framed by tangles of wild grapevines were often relayed by letter to his likeminded “epistolary friends.”

Distinguish and still in command:
Strauch from the prime of his career.

It is little wonder that he identified with John Stuart Mill, whom Strauch spoke of as “a child prodigy disciplined by his harsh and unfeeling father in a regimen of the narrowest intellectuality, without any concession to emotional life.  The result was that the young Mill, in his late adolescence and early manhood, had a severe case of depression, the cure for which he sought in Wordsworth’s nature poetry.”  Strauch’s own words here could later be applied to his own life.


Strauch indeed had a warm affection for Liddie.  He once was quoted in Lehigh’s alumni magazine, “One of my most brilliant graduate students (Liddie), years ago, advocated poetry as psychotherapy.”  Strauch’s own battles with insomnia and depression began as he watched the eventual demise of his wife.  He sought medical help for it in the early 1970s.


True to his underdog roots, he was known for professing his love for baseball and the hapless Chicago Cubs.  Among his favorites was the pitcher “Three Finger” Brown (1876-1948). 


Mordecai Peter Centennial Brown’s deformed and injured hand allowed for a grip that gave him an exceptional curveball.  “Three Finger” was the stuff of Strauch legend: a person who outperformed despite his past. His daughter Dery recounted playing catch and hitting baseball from the age of eight.  She remembers how special it was when she got her first “Louisville Slugger” and outfielder’s mitt from her father. 


Strauch’s second oldest sister, Kate, was married to Floyd Harrier. 


The story goes that Kate fell into various escapes to avoid her duty to her husband and her children.  It was said she had an insatiable infatuation for Rudy Valentino, often escaping to the movies.   Floyd was often left alone to minding after their kids during afternoon matinees, even though he needed his rest from working the second and third shifts at the mill.  During one of those afternoons, their eldest child Floyd Junior, was hit by a car and killed. 


Their already strained relationship only got worse.  Strauch’s nephew, Dr. Richard Harrier became a Shakespearian professor of note at New York University.  Dr. Harrier had little good to speak of his father who he sensed deserted the family.  When this author asked Harrier whatever happened to his father, he stated that he “probably ran-off with his socialist pals.” 

Richard Harrier, Strauch's nephew through his sister
Kate became of man of letters at NYU.  He credited
his high school principal for pushing him to take the
competitive exams that helped launch his career.
Even in his late years, Dr. Harrier held animosity toward
his father whom he felt had abandoned the family.

Floyd Harrier was an early silk mill worker organizer before the unions were legally recognized.  He was active in the Lehigh Valley “Keystone Athletic League.”  There are several photos of holiday philanthropy with Floyd Harrier and others of the club.  In 1933 he ran for Allentown city council as the Social Party candidate.  Harrier had a big heart and was fondly remembered by both Strauch and his sister Mary.


Strauch spoke fondly of another socialist union leader Eugene V. Deb’s (1855-1926) in his 1932 poem entitled ‘In Memoriam: Eugene V. Debs.’  His words illustrated the powerlessness of the worker who lacked “vital fire” and who had “rootless tongues” and “blind eyes.” 
Page 1 of 4: Strauch's tribute to Debs could have its origins of
Strauch's socialist brother-in-law Floyd Harrier. 
Debs had died in October of 1926, in a time before
socialism received such distaste and distrust in America.  Reading just a few
of Debs' quotes could further impute Strauch's rationale for writing these
words to such a man. 
Debs: "While there is a lower class, I am in it,
while there is a criminal element, I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison,
I am not free."  These words certainly could have been written by Strauch of his
daughter Dery.


The poem ends with a wishful, yet perhaps spiteful thought “hast thou found in that dim world the rose without thorn?”  (This last line bears a strikingly similar tone to T.S. Eliot’s “Hollow Men” poem published in 1925: “Sightless, unless the eyes reappear, as the perpetual star, multi-foliate rose, of death's twilight kingdom, the hope only of empty men.”)

Strauch was ambitious.  The trajectory of his life of letters was just beginning to ascend.  He published his Twenty-Nine Poems in April of 1932 while working as Muhlenberg’s assistant librarian.  He presented many books to his family, friends, and colleagues. 


To his professor Simpson, he wrote “With respect and admiration.”  To his Phi Sigma Iota brother, the future Dr. Edward J. Fluck, he wrote, “For Edward Fluck, whose taste is as impeccable as his friendship is sincere.” 

Carl F. Strauch's inscription in his Twenty-Nine Poems book
 to his good Muhlenberg fraternity brother Edward Fluck.

To his bother Edwin he was rather terse. Edwin’s inscription simply read, “For Edwin, From the author, Carl F.S., April 26, 1932.”


Another inscription of his Emerson’s Unwilling Senator, to Rosemary Mundlear, he wrote: “To her, Apr 2 ’84.”  The back of the 1970’s era photo in his office has “To Mildred with Love.” 


He presented the book to Fluck on the day it was announced that he was appointed as a Fellow of the Archaeological Institute of America, at the American School of Classical Studies in Athens, Greece.  Fluck’s copy of Strauch’s poems looks well worn, a lasting tribute to his friend’s words.  (See “End Notes” for more on Fluck’s distinguished career.)


Strauch’s poems received congratulatory local notice, earning him literary respect across the Lehigh Valley.  He was also known as a resource in Pennsylvania dialect and hex lore, which drew him into the gaze of H. P. Lovecraft.  Lovecraft achieving lasting cult fame for his stories in Weird Tales.


The friendship between Lovecraft (1890-1937) was sewn together by their mutual friend, Allentown’s friend Dr. Harry K. Brobst (1909-2010).  Strauch and Lovecraft corresponded from September 1931 to July 1933, as recorded in S. T. Joshi and David E. Schultz’s H. P. Lovecraft: Letters to J. Vernon Shea, Carl F. Strauch, and Lee McBride White, Hippocampus Press (2016).


Both Lovecraft and Strauch had a common interest in the macabre and a penchant for deriding organized religion.  In contrast to Brobst, who would eventually earn his doctor of divinity degree in the 1970s.  The friendship between Brobst and Lovecraft developed while Brobst was a psychiatric nursing student at Brown. 


Brobst later earned a Ph.D. in psychiatry and professor at Oklahoma State.  Born the same year as Strauch, he outlived his compatriot by twenty years, living to within one month of his 101st birthday. 


Joshi and Schutlz’s book features a two year conversation between Lovecraft and Strauch which included one visit to Lovecraft in Providence in September 1932.


In a letter to Robert Bloch in the summer of 1933, Lovecraft said that Strauch was “…delightful and affable-he visited Providence last summer and will probably come again this September.  Enthusiast in Germanic literature.  Rather anti-scientific by temperament-affording material for heated and interesting arguments with Brobst.”  This attests to Strauch’s long held agnostic beliefs.

Ever the journalist, some of the most endear-
ing of Strauch's quotes come from the
copious note-taking by
Professor Robert "Bob" Cole (1937-2015)
back in his grad assistant
days beneath Carl F. Strauch.  

Liddie and in particular another mutual friend, Dr. Robert Cole, were both so enamored by Strauch that they kept notes on the things he spoke about. At times dark, at times jovial, and perhaps bombastic, Strauch never ceased to entertain those taken in by his lectures.


For those who loved him, his lectures were a thing to behold.


He’d enter the room with the ceremony of setting his pipe on the chalk tray.  Then as expected, would launch into what seemed like a torrent of information and debate fodder, heavily steeped in transcendental discourse.  And as Strauch admits, with a pinch of “piffle.” 


Alex Liddie noted that Strauch’s teaching style had “elegant sentence structures, dramatic pauses and repetitions, and shifts from high seriousness to comic interludes.”  Strauch admitted that he “was particularly interested in teaching literature, not being a showman…but I did want drama in the classroom.”


Banter was a Strauch forte. 


Liddie describes a Strauch-student encounter this way:


Strauch: Will you tell us about The Red Badge of Courage?

Student: [Busily writing, no response.]

Strauch: In the front row, in the red shirt, will you recite?

Student: [looking up] Me?

Strauch: Yes.  What were you writing?

Student: I was taking notes.

Strauch: That’s rather difficult isn’t it, considering nothing has been said yet?

Student: [frowning, angry] Well, I had to write down the title of the book, for God’s sake.

Strauch: Oh, it was for God’s sake was it?  You had no ulterior motive?  Very well, recite.

Student: [summarizes the first chapter]

Strauch: Very well, go on.

Student: [retells the second chapter]

Strauch: There, you see?  You did rather well, considering you began by hating me.


Several years after his retirement, in a moment of reflection, Strauch once said, “I do regret that occasionally I permitted my love of showmanship to get out of hand.  I belatedly became aware that I was offending some students (I hope not hundreds), and so I now, again belatedly, offer my sincerest apologies.”


Strauch had an anti-war, pro-life tone in much of what he wrote.  He once explained the difference between the nature-worshiping Romantics to the serious modern writers of the twentieth century.  Modern writers “shared the Romantics’ awe but not their optimism…Like earlier Deism, Romanticism derived support from science.  Deism drew upon astronomy, and Romanticism upon biology and geology.  The affirmations of Romanticism could not survive in this murderous century.  And so, between the two great wars, sophisticated and ironic minds turned to Eliot, Pound, Auden, and Wallace Stevens as well as others for cathartic effect.”


Strauch was said to be friends, if only perhaps epistolary friends, with W. H. Auden as well.


Strauch said of Eiseley: “His books have given me immense satisfaction.  For me, Eiseley was an ideal man-scientist, nature lover, poet, and humanist.”  He continued by quoting one of his favorite 19th century minds, Matthew Arnold. “And as Arnold said of Emerson, “the friend and aider of those who would live in the spirit.”


Loren Eiseley and Auden were friends.  When Auden asked Eiseley what his earliest public memory was, Eiseley referred to a 1912 prison escape where the men died in the Nebraska snow.  But Eiseley replied with the pronoun ‘we.’  This took Auden back.


In his biography, Eiseley delved into his use of ‘we’ in the context of world affairs: “Wegathered like descending birds in spite of all obstacles.  Like birds, some of us died because we were old…Cheap liquor killed us; occasionally we died by gun…” 


Then Eiseley gets more universal: “We would be here when the city had fallen…sitting among our hatreds and superstitions…We would throw stones and break what we could not understand.”  This was written within the context as the first governments were making the first moves toward World War I.


These sentiments were collected and underscored by Strauch.  Certainly he was of mind and spirit with these words.


As a former librarian, he always had cause to keep the record straight.


One time in October 1941, Lehigh’s Brown and White gave Strauch credit for a display of rare Emerson letters and papers.  The following day Strauch submitted: “Allow me to congratulate the Brown and White, Mr. Jesse Beers, and you on the excellent report of the Emerson display in our Library.  I must, however, in all fairness, disclaim having arranged the display.  Credit must go to Miss Mary E. Wheatley.  The greatest share I have had in the display has been the satisfaction of noting that our library has a considerable number of first editions of the most influential figure in American letters.”


In January 1945 Strauch gave a lecture on the use of literature as an escape as a worthwhile pursuit. He said lately Edmund Wilson of the New Yorker decried it as “a kind of cheat, blasting the detective novel while others defended it.”  (Another of Strauch’s books this author owns, Edmund Wilson’s Apologies to the Iroquois read by Strauch on October 4, 1971.) 


In his retirement, Strauch admitted to finding great pleasure in reading the modern detective novels.


Strauch had a unique penchant for both self-promotion and self-deprecation.  As Bob Cole noted from a first day lecture in September 1965 that he pointed out his graciousness in allowing student access to his own papers and books he placed on reserve in the library. 


“I am the only faculty member I think who performs this service.”  Further along, as he addressed the rigors and requirements of his syllabus, Strauch gave a “You see?...” with a signature dramatic pause as he gave a sweep of his arm in a calm over-arching gesture, “Please withhold your applause until I have shown the last text.”


In preparing for his own passing, Strauch made legal arrangements for the sum total of his life’s literary work to be placed into the special collections archive at the Linderman Library.  His papers and files were found from the basement to his bedroom.  Along with many published and unpublished manuscripts were collections of his letters with his friend Kenneth Cameron of the Emerson Society and Orson Welles and many others to name a few.  All the boxes take up twenty-lineal feet of the special collections archive.


Among the categories for some of his folders was one he self-entitled as “Fan Mail.”  Some of the letters display warm collegial affection.  Another discussed a bitter disagreement over an Emerson anthology, which was rather tragic given the energy and perfectionism that Strauch applied to his research and analysis. 


A letter from a former student, living in the Philadelphia area, now a stay at home mom, wrote to him upon feeling the solace of being snowed in and seeing a cardinal feeding outside her window.  It reminded her of Loren Eiseley’s poem, which Strauch shared in class, “The Sunflower Song” and how the cardinal’s eaten seed transforms into song.



































There is also a 1943 letter from Orson Welles.  With typical Strauch panache, he took to his pen to prod Welles to make a movie production of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.  He even suggested that Welles take the lead role.  The idea was graciously rejected.   


Strauch too transformed over the years.  At his last regular lecture at Lehigh (which was preserved on audio tape, somewhere…) he expressed doubt over his career devotion to the Romantics.  He went on to suggest that he’d been happier studying Henry James and his complex characters than Emerson.


“I have now reached a place where I can say that my courses are on a strong foundation of incompleteness.  Striving for completeness in this life is vanity…possibly blasphemous…It may be the unpardonable sin.”  A student then pointed out to the syllabus where it states the instructor “no incompletes” would be given.  To this Strauch wryly assented.


Further evidence of the reverence of Strauch and his humor comes from Lehigh’s Brown and Whitenewspaper.  Cold-war tensions in April 1950 led the editors to publish a tongue-in-cheek story about the end of the world.  Various faculty and students were lampooned into their fictional reactions to such a time.  The article contained the following: “Professor Strauch, campus pedagogue located in “English Hall” has invited all interested persons both university and town, to attend a recital of Jonathan Edward’s “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” said recital to be performed by Strauch in person.”


Creation is soul-searching.  Nothing is ever finished.

~Carl Ruggles (1876-1971)


In an analysis of Melville’s Moby Dick, Strauch expounds on the themes of time and suicide.  Whether it be Ishmael’s reason for taking to the sea (“as a substitute for pistol and ball”) or Ahab’s whole self-destructed march toward the end.  Strauch said through this “the thematic development” we are to “understand what suicide is.  It is the desire to divest oneself of personality, to escape the oppression of time, and to merge with the nihilism at the heart of the universe.”


Strauch, despondent over Helen’s death and his own battles with depression from at least the 1950s, also wrote his own thoughts for ending his life.  In a letter to his doctor, he spoke of his insatiable need for sleep.

He spoke of three big slumps of “Discord and malaise…Of the symptoms I have listed, only the desire to sleep, and not consistently, remained.  (Not entirely true – I have thought of suicide).”
He even disputed and analyzed himself.  He could count only a few days in the period of months following his wife Helen’s death in January 1971 that he felt fit.  Five months following her death he saw a part in the clouds of his despair.  He wrote, “Today I hope heralds my liberation-a day of feeling good and getting some work done, household and academic.” 

  
Strauch could give into the temptation of showmanship over tact.  He once darkly chided about the suicide of Cornell professor and Emerson scholar Dr. Stephen E. Whicher (1915-1961), attributing it to the professional jealousy Whicher felt toward Dr. Kenneth W. Cameron (1908-2006).


Whicher was born to two college literature professors.  His middle name was figuratively and literally Emerson.  Though Whicher was a seasoned WWII veteran, he took his own life saying he could not handle the growing tensions of world affairs.  He died November 13, 1961.  (Strauch himself would die on the same date, twenty-eight years later).

Dr. Stephen E. Whicher's suicide came 28 years
to the day before Strauch's own death.  It occured
just months after receiving 

Strauch said Whicher’s suicide was actually over his jealously for Dr. Kenneth W. Cameron’s scholarly upstaging of Whicher’s work.  Cameron was another cordial ally of Strauch’s.


In his first lecture of the 1965 term Strauch however described his friendship with Whicher with trademark audacity.  “Professor Whicher and I had a glowing relationship before he committed suicide.  He had done everything – He had edited the best anthology of Emerson and written the best book on him.”


Kenneth W. Cameron of Trinity College in Hartford “gave me help and advice in my earlier years of research and remained my friend and collaborator.”  Strauch went on to describe Cameron as “indefatigable and trustworthy” and “as for me the greatest research scholar in 19th Century American literature.”


Cameron was another ever stalwart ally of Strauch’s and president of the Emerson Society Quarterly.  One of the studies by Strauch within the volume titled “Initial Love,” examines Emerson’s interpretation of Cupid, “not as a god of love, but as a dynamic life force in man’s evolution.”  (Ownership of Cameron’s personal copy of Strauch’s book, “Characteristics of Emerson Transcendental Poet” of 1974 has been transferred to this author.)


Maurice Gonnaud (1925-2017), an internationally known French scholar, wrote an intellectual biography of Ralph Waldo Emerson, a lifelong concern of his.  He defended it in 1964 but republished it in 1987 and only came into great acclaim in 2014 titled An Uneasy Solitude: Individual and Society in the Work of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Princeton Legacy Library.  In it he cites “Kenneth Cameron, Carl F. Strauch, and the late Stephen Whicher- to cite only three names among many worthy of mention- have contributed to a decisive transformation of our knowledge about and our understanding of Emerson.”
Whicher received an honorary degree from Amhearst
College in June 1961, just five months before his death.


Strauch’s analysis of J.D. Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye” is still considered a defining critique.  Strauch is cited in Sarah Graham’s book on Salinger’s novel, where she uses Strauch’s own words of “neurotic deterioration” and “psychological self-cure” in his “long, demanding” essay. 


Strauch’s energy emerged and was defined from a life set by his surroundings. The Strauch family came to be amid the miners who lived through the fervor of the Molly Macguires.  In at least one of his letters to Lovecraft, he mentions a family connection to those upheavals.  In later years, his sisters would be interviewed for various Molly Maguire projects of researchers and documentarians.


Lovecraft tapped Strauch for the gritty details of the so-called “Hex Murders” that fascinated the nation in the late 1920s and early 1930s.

This January 1932 hex
murder is perhaps the one
that triggered all the
hysteria.  This Mennonite
brother and church
accountant was found
dead with the crescent
hex symbol carved into
his temples.  His
naked body thrown from
car. 

A book written by John George Hohman, from 1818 in Reading, Pennsylvania, known as the “Long Lost Friend,” prescribed and bestowed powers of Pennsylvania Dutch pow-wow or hex (witch) doctors to anyone who possessed it.


The most sensational occurred in York when friends tried to subdue a man who was casting spells upon, and holding power over, his neighbor.  They wanted to take his book and a lock of his hair to bury them to take away his hex doctor’s power.  Instead, the recluse doctor was killed during the struggle.


Another murder of a Mennonite accountant for the church was done in cold blood, the victim left with crescent shapes carved out of the skin of his temples.  An Allentown man was arrested on suspicion of foul deeds.  The scraps of paper in his pockets with known hex symbols on them were enough to book him.


And still another Pennsylvania court case was won by a neighbor who accused the neighboring farmer for hexing his crops by planting things around his fence.  The man responsible for this hex was placed on $1,000 bail for criminal mischief. 


Liddie and Cole tried to capture the enigmatic and fascination of Strauch by collecting notes on his lectures, including unfiltered quips and examples of his “showmanship.”

The temperamental Strauch at times could be hurt and annoyed.


He scoffed at the lack of talent of the “modern” poets. 


A feud over content of the Harvard University Press’ ‘Collection of Works of Emerson: A Definitive, Clear Text Edition,’ a project Strauch worked on for fourteen years ended badly. 


In 1977 the Board drafted a new set of editorial principles which, at least in part, contradicted Strauch’s aims.  A flurry of impatient and perhaps impetuous letters were exchanged leading to Strauch’s bitter resignation in 1978. 


In this letter, Strauch forbade the Board to include his name in this “now repugnant” edition on Emerson.  He discouraged any further correspondence or phone calls from anyone connected to the publication.


It was written: “The Harvard Poems will have far surpassed Strauch’s work when it finally appears, but his presence will be felt there.”


Letters to Germany:

Strauch could also be warm, as in his letters to his distant German cousins.

As far as can be determined, the letter writing was established between Strauch’s mother Anna-Margaret (Foesch) and the mother of Else (Adolph) Muller of Freidberg, Germany.  The mantle carried forward by Lizzie and Margaret to Carl, and then from 2009 to 2010 it was once again picked up again by this author. 


It was shortly after the war when the Strauch family (notably Strauch’s unmarried sister Elizabeth) sent care packages to their German family who were in want of basic necessities like clothes pins and baking flour.  This act of kindness was never forgotten by the Adolph family, as subsequent letters to this day attest.  Hanna, daughter of Else Adolph Muller, and this author continue the correspondence that began with the Strauchs over a century ago.  (Three letters were exchanged before I received the untimely letter from Else’s daughter Hanna informing us that Else had passed away.)
 

It appears that it wasn’t just the American cousins who had a taste for literature.  In a letter from December 1977, Else wrote “I just wrote your sister Margaret and now it’s your turn…Tomorrow night Otto (her husband) and I are going to hear a lecture on Goethe in Hessen.  One never knows too much of the history of one’s home country.”

Anna-Margaret (Foesch) Strauch near the end of her life.  She was still connected
to her family back in Freidberg Germany.

The bloodline lost, but the allegiance continued.  When Anna-Margaret died in March 1945, just two months before VE Day, her obituary stated she still had a sibling living in her home country. 


Their bonds strengthened by the act of humanity and kindness, Elizabeth Strauch’s love and kinship was not forgotten even some sixty years later.  Else Adolph Muller’s granddaughter, born in 1994, was bestowed with the name “Elizabeth” to enshrine the name back to Germany where it all started.

 
Though it was unclear just how the Adolph's and Strauch's were related,it is clear that Else (Adolph) Muller held up her end in Germany in keeping the family connected across the ocean via parcel post.  This author only discovered her address amid Strauch's papers in January 2010 and had eight months of correspondence with her.  Her daughter Hanna informed
me of her passing in July 2010.  She included the following poem from Gertrud von le Fort that Else selected a few months before her passing.  It appears here translated by Hanna: "Do not welcome me when I am arriving.  Do not bid me
farewell when I am leaving.  For I am coming and I am leaving whenever I am  leaving."  Else Muller, like her Strauch family cousins,  was also a teacher.   She taught English in the Freidberg public schools. 
The Dery Family:


Helen Dery had two older brothers.  Oldest was George Dery, who earned his bachelors from Lafayette College in Easton and his law degree from Harvard.  Charles Frederick Dery, the middle child, was educated at the Hill School, a private boarding school in Pottstown.  He was a Princeton graduate.  At the Hill School, Charles served as associate editor of The Dialyearbook under editor-in-chief F. A. O. Schwarz II. 

Charles F. Dery's senior
picture from the Hill
School yearbook.

Frederick August Otto Schwarz was the grandson of the New York City toy store founder.  He later earned his law degree and briefly ran the company from 1931 to 1932 after the death of his father Henry.  George was the first to switch coasts when he headed to San Mateo California in the 1920s.  Later on his little brother joined him.  George a law writer while Charles worked as a writer and drama study at local theater groups.  He later moved to San Francisco and wrote for the San Francisco Call Bulletin.  The Dery family continued to maintain a summer home in Camden, Maine.


Charles F. Dery wrote many letters to Strauch, some from Maine (in 1982), and others from San Francisco.  “As a pantheist I must question your use of expression “bad weather” or else I shall be punished by the spirit behind the inanimate universe.  Why not call it inclement?  Quotes John Rsukin, "Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, snow exhilarating."  Charles goes on to say, "There is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."  He ends by quoting Strauch back on his own lines of his last letter: "I daresay we both have come home safely."



Strauch the Critic, the Curmudgeon:


Ever the critic, Strauch scribbled on the edges of the pages of a copy of the ‘American Scholar:’ “Horrible examples of current ‘poetry.”  The page referred to two poems: ‘Daddies’ by James L. Calderwood and “The Land of Nod” by Alice Wirth Gray.


Curmudgeon Strauch once relayed the following to Liddie about summer heat and a reticent summer-intern, grad-assistant.  In record 95-degree heat, in his second floor apartment, without air-conditioning, papers sweating to his forearms, wearing only his shorts, his back stuck to the chair, Strauch pulled together the lion-share on his article “Hatred’s Swift Repulses.”  Strauch delivered his dead-pan disdain of his fair-weather friend who said he “hadn’t much done, it was too hot.”


In another episode, Strauch was called down to Washington D.C. to take part in a roundtable, to serve yet again as contributing editor to another Emerson anthology.  His only notes of that trip was a reference to forever known in his notes and “that D.C. fiasco.”

Perhaps one of his last photographs from Lehigh,
most likely after he retired during emeritus status
days, a more weary and deserted Strauch.

Strauch complained to Lovecraft about what passes for good fiction in those days.  Lovecraft replied, “I heartily agree with you regarding the lame inadequacy of nearly everything that passes for weird fiction in the popular magazines-to say nothing of more pretentious specimens.”  Strauch also panned J.S. Fletcher (1863-1935) who was primarily a detective writer but also a writer of weird novels at turn of century.


Lovecraft often referred sympathy back on Strauch for things large and small.  “Sorry your eyes have been bothering you…” and “You have my sympathy regarding the tutoring- but it helps, at least, if the subjects are willing and earnest.”  This was a recurring theme for him.  He was often quoted as saying to his students in regard to their reluctant study of Emerson: “Oh but they flock to that which they hate/scorn.”


A recurring theme of Strauch was how, of cycles of nature, of successive generations of minds, could transcend time.  From his article and lectures of “Romanticism and the Organic Metaphor” he writes, “Our perceptions magnetize our reading as when we link writers in theme, motif, and psychological awareness, though they are separated by a hundred years, geography, nationality and class.”  He oft spoke of transcendence, and thus so became his life’s work.


Transcendental Man:

Strauch had a filial friendship with Henry Louis Mencken, the American journalist and satirist, known for his coverage of the Scopes Trial, dubbing it as the “Monkey Trial.”

Both Mencken and Strauch lost loved ones to the ‘consumption’ of tuberculosis.  The former, his wife of five years, the latter his beautiful sister, Caroline, also known as ‘Lena.’  It was plain to all that Lena was father’s favorite, the only one who could pull a gleam from a mostly gloomy persona. 


Both men lost their wives, as Strauch’s wife Helen, a heavy smoker, died from a long, struggle with brain tumors 1971.  Adding disconsolateness to a man already stuck in a “psychological swamp” of depression, Strauch implored “God and the Saints, and Helen my saint of suffering, help me.”


Strauch’s poem “One Living to One Dead,” published fifteen years after his sister Lena’s October 1917 death, speaks grandly of what aromas they could smell together, ending with: “Crowning the azure loveliness, Of an October dusk!...And in the conniving dusk, Fate led you down a dark road, Toward a grove of cypresses, And there she put up, The too brilliant sword, Of your perfection.  She murdered all the little singing birds, And all their ghosts went whistling down the wind.”
The ending of Strauch's One Living to One Dead poem from page 36 of his
1932 book of poems. 


Lovecraft complemented Strauch in an October 1931 letter “delighted” with his poems, “especially the autumn piece.  Of poetic gifts there can be no question and I am sure Allentown must be a notable abode of the Muses if it can produce many genuine rivals!  You have the true poet’s sense of symbols and images, and a highly enviable command of the right words and rhythms for their aptest conveyance.”  Apparently he must have told Lovecraft of his poetic Lehigh Valley competition.


In October, 1931, Lovecraft wrote, “I am aware that your part of Pennsylvania is rich in folklore and superstitions-but was surprised when Brobst told me of the prevalence of weird beliefs in the cities as well as the rural districts.  Such superstition as New England still retains is confined wholly to the remotest backwoods…”


(Cite or show the articles of the man picked up with hex notes in pocket and the Mennonite murder).

Allentown man arrested with "hex" notes in his pocket
that hoped to cure bleeding and stop pain.

Lovecraft also gave this spot on assessment of Pennsylvania Dutch heritage, saying “This kind of thing ought to be studied soon, I imagine, if it is to be encountered in its pristine purity; for a generation or two of modern standardized life with radios, cinema, tabloids, and cheap magazines will leave very little of the ancient folk-heritage.”


In December 1932 Lovecraft wrote: “Those “hex” circles on your barns are intensely interesting and I had never heard of them before.  I certainly must see this region someday.” 


In August, Lovecraft wrote to Derleth saying, “I find that there is still a whole region in the U.S. where witchcraft is believed as uniformly and implicitly as in the Salem of 1692.  It is the Lehigh Valley region of PA, where the ‘hex’ murders attracted attention a few years ago.  I thought that those a rather isolated vestigial case, but I now have two bright young correspondents in Allentown who (themselves as skeptical as I) indicate widespread surviving belief…some quasi-hypnotic psychological menace, a sheriff who wanted to search his garage.  The country folks paint on their barn gables great circles filled with labyrinthine lines- to entrap any ‘hexes’ who may have designs on their livestock and grain.” (From H. P. Lovecraft Letters to J. Vernon Shea, Carl F. Strauch, and Lee McBride White, by S. T. Joshi and David E. Schultz, 2016.)


Strauch had a youth’s fascination with death. 
The Luther's Catechism shared by two of Strauch's sisters from their
days of living at Hacklebernie, the words still studied in the original
German at that time.  Katie (1890-1986) married the socialist Floyd Harrier
and Carolina 'Lena' (1892-1917), perhaps the fairest of the Strauchs in
beauty, died of consumptive tuberculosis in October 1917.  


All of the Strauch siblings were raised in the Lutheran faith, the older ones in Hacklebernie and Lehighton.  He once recalled how he and his nearest sister Margaret walked in the dark and snow to Christmas matins and how enamored he was with the whole effect.  Carl was confirmed at St Luke’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Allentown, April 5, 1925.


But he had a turning away after his confirmation, “I expected great things…I looked under every table at the altar for angels’ wings…but alas, experienced nothing.”


Strauch made notes in the margins of transcendentalist George Ripley’s 1882 posthumous biography.  Ripley quoted reads, “…unless a minister is to speak out on all subjects which are uppermost in his mind, with no fear of incurring the charge of heresy.”  To which Strauch handwriting reads, “A minister should speak out.” 

Where Ripley said, “…formality and coldness which are breathed from the atmosphere of our churches,” Strauch noted “Church is dead.”

Strauch's wife's death in January
1971 created disharmony in his life.


Disobedience- Father and Daughter:


Strauch had more than a passing affection for disobedience.  In his defense of saying he “resigned from the human race in 1939,” Strauch replied with a litany of influences from literary history, from Emerson’s opinion of the avariciousness of America to his love for Thoreau’s ‘Necessity of Civil Disobedience, to Mark Twain’s reference to “the damned human race.” 


Liddie once quoted Matthew Arnold to Strauch, that literature must be a “criticism of life” to which Strauch heartily agreed. 


He wrote to Liddie: “Of course, some of the alienation I encountered rubbed off on me.  I made the remark about resigning from the human race in the early 1950s, and you must have caught it on the wing.  1939 was not really a good year to hand in a resignation; I would have better advised to choose 1914, when I was six and the wholesale murder began.” 


He said his friend Mencken would have called resignation absurd because he so enjoyed witnessing the spectacle of man’s folly and political carnival.


Strauch also counted Robinson Jeffers to be a “great and good friend.”  Jeffer’s quip “I’d sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk,” resonated with Strauch who added “Ditto for polar bears.”  


 “We are all of us too late to have experienced an unmolested, unexploited American nature as the Indian knew it.  Is the magnificent wildlife of central Africa to go the way of our American wildlife?”  Strauch quoted Bernhard Grzimek, director of the Frankfort Zoo in the 1950s and 60s, “From the Rockies to Siberia it’s been the same sad story – slaughter and extermination.” 

All the living Strauch siblings among their books in
the family homestead in Allentown in the early 1970s.
L-R: Carl, Margaret, Leonard, unknown, Henry, and
Elizabeth "Lizzie."  Neither Margaret, Leonard, nor
Lizzie ever married nor didany of them ever own their
own car.  Lizzie, the family 'matriarch' after
her mother died continued the care packages and letters
to Germany.  She was a Christian-Scientist.  All
were avid readers.

Cold War threats were made very real to him from letters from his cousin in Friedberg Germany in April 1960. Else Adolph Muller wrote: “Will you please remember us to your sister, we have to thank her for a letter in winter and her Easter greetings…So you understand the great fear in our lives, that of Russia whose border is not far away from us, and we are in great concern for our people in Eastern Germany.”


In the shadow of Vietnam, the recent Roe v. Wade decision, the Yom Kippur War in Israel, and the federal response to the occupation at Wounded Knee, forty-five members of the Lehigh University teaching staff took out a full-page ad in the March 9, 1974 edition of the Brown and White.  It pictured Albert Schweitzer along with the quote: “When we lose respect for any form of life, we diminish all life.”  Certainly the same sentiment expressed by Strauch’s daughter.


It is unclear if he anointed Helen “Dery” Strauch with his sense of man’s inhumanity via transcendent holy waters or if it were merely through the grace of the Holy Spirit, but “Dery” took on the mantle not just in words.  (She was named after her mother, her middle name used in their home.)

Helen Dery Strauch Woodson served on Liberty High School's 'Life'
newspaper staff.  This photo from the 1960 yearbook.

From the books on his shelves, the telling phrases in his works, and the friends he admired, it is easy to see Strauch’s affinity for spotlighting man’s inherent inhumanity against himself and his dissatisfaction with religion.  He seemed to stir with disobedience and he sought to correct it through his words. 


His “Lone Wolf” status and temperament was both a blessing for his studiousness and scholarly analysis and dramatic teaching style; While alienated those with differences of style and tact.  To Strauch, people were either acceptable or not.  With him, there was little middle ground.


H. P. Lovecraft’s influence on the young Strauch should not be overlooked.  To have Lovecraft who was an unflinching force, an influential, persistent and faithful letter-writer, and above all one wholly interested in the support and mentoring of young writers, one cannot discount the effect this had on our burgeoning writer.


 However, it is possible that Strauch’s solitary attempt at a novel and Lovecraft’s subsequent and fair critique of it may have hastened the end of both their friendship and any further pursuits toward fiction.


Lovecraft’s editor and collaborator was August Derleth (1909-1971).  Lovecraft said this to him of Strauch: “I reached home just in time to welcome young Strauch, who had come from Allentown to visit Brobst and me.  He is a delightful youth-slim, dark, handsome, and extremely brilliant- and I believe he will go far in the poetic field.”

In late June 1933, Lovecraft wrote another member of his inner circle, Robert Bloch (1917-1994).  He sent Bloch Strauch’s address and the following: “Poet with one published book to his credit…Delightful and affable-he visited Providence last summer and will probably come again this September.  Enthusiast in Germanic literature.  Rather anti-scientific by temperament-affording material for heated and interesting arguments with Brobst.”


It appears that Strauch and Derleth did indeed have their own friendship.    In a May 1933 letter to Strauch, Lovecraft gently chided Strauch about upon hearing about Strauch’s plans to visit Derleth in Sauk City.  Incidentally, Strauch’s only daughter would later move to Madison, a mere twenty-four miles away.  Derleth died in Sauk City in on July 4th, 1971 at the age of 62.  Helen Dery Strauch Woodson moved there in the middle 1960s. 

 
This book list appeared in the July 1932 Hartford Courant featured
Strauch's book of poems.
The 1932 publication by Humphries Press, Boston.
The Lost Manuscript:


After his 1932 Twenty-Nine Poems, he set his sights on the American novel.  Though the manuscript has been lost to time, a fortunate peak into the characters and tenor of his story can be found in the Joshi and Schultz “Lovecraft” book. 


Strauch sent the 280-page typed manuscript to Lovecraft in July 1933.  Lovecraft assembled a “near-convention,” a “spirited triangular session” with E. Hoffman Price, Brobst, and himself.  They covered ten pages with Price reading the piece aloud while Lovecraft took kind-hearted notes. 


Lovecraft reminded Strauch, more than once, that they realized this to be his first attempt at story.  Hence Price’s “pointers” shouldn’t “be taken as actual derogation.”  He seems to try to soften any perceived blows on his work in many ways, at one point stating that Price “is quite the carper” and he “brought up all sorts of minute matters…which would never have occurred to me at all.”


Lovecraft also said “there is damned good stuff in this story” and with a few changes “it ought to have a chance with Wright.”  Farnsworth Wright was a key editor for Weird Tales and no doubt another good friend of Lovecraft that he tried to connect to Strauch.  He also suggested that he send it to Derleth, but that he could be “savage in his candor” either as is or after he revises it.  But he prepped Strauch for disappointment judging by the way Derleth “lit on J. Vernon Shea’s work.”


Clues to the tone and tenor of the story can be found in several telling comments.  He compared it to Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray.  He mentions it should be shorted by cutting out excessive descriptions and “whimsical character-touches” and “suggestions of scholarship.”  And although he felt it didn’t have enough “dark tenseness for a macabre theme,” he does tell Strauch to “soft-peddle” on any references to bestiality or “anything suggesting abnormal eroticism.”  They all agreed it should have less “smartness” as well as “paradox and other incongruous elements suggesting the Wilde tradition…Be more direct and simple.”


The triumvirate suggested making the Hopkins character less of a “pretty-boy” unless Strauch chance his book be associated in the style of the popular Yellow Bookmagazine of the day. 


Other characters in the novel were Meininglake and von Hohenloe.  Though he suggests cutting back on describing these seven, old-time philosophers, he begs to learn more about the one named Hohenloe.  There was also a long-dead sorcerer. 

The climax occurs when Meininglake’s dead body, shot up, transforms back to the living.  He tells him to cut down on the explanations of this “violation of the basic laws of nature.”  Instead, make it seem so plausible that the reader will hesitate to question it as real.  He says as written, it has a “far-fetchedness” to it all.   


Lovecraft suggested making some thread of continuity between the old philosophers and the current scene.  And though he says it matters not where the setting takes place, he does suggest setting it in the middle of Pennsylvania Dutch folklore.  The handing down of the legend from the German to the Dutch roots would be a nice touch. 


It would seem that some of Strauch’s characterization can be traced back to Thomas Carlyle.  Carlyle spoke of the devil being the true ruler of the world.  And if man would live in eternity, stressed the need to live in the timeless present of love, religion, and art. 


Carlyle used an old German philosopher known as Teufelsdroeckh whom Strauch spoke of wrote of in his lectures and essays.  It was this character who quoted of love, religion, and art transcending time: “A discerning of the Infinite in the Finite, of the Idea made Real.”  To which Strauch said, “Similarly with religion and art, even though, in the long run, time will deface these symbols of man’s striving.”   When translated from the German, Teufelsdroeckh means ‘god-born, devil’s dung.’  

In a follow-up letter a week later, Lovecraft suggests letting “Comte d’Erlette” take a look at the manuscript.  Most likely a reference to Derlerth again.  ‘D’Erlette’ was a character in Robert Bloch novels.  The inspiration for the name comes from the ancestral form of Derleth’s name.


Lovecraft ends with more encouragement.  “I have no doubt but that after a few experiments you will produce notable results.  In the course of time-after you have applied all the finishing touches of revision that you wish-I hope to see your novel.”

How much more time Strauch devoted to this project is unclear.  Their cordial letters end a month later.  There is nothing uncovered to date of any further work on this project by him. 


With his courtship of Helen out and away on the horizon, Strauch’s job at Muhlenberg was about to evaporate, and both his and the national depression deepened. 

It was time for a change.


Passing the Cairn:

One of Strauch’s most intriguing lines, written in his own hand without the benefit of any context: “But as one passes the cairn, one compulsively drops his littlestone.” 

When in the presence of greatness, one is humbled by his own little works.  We all make our own way. 


His longings to both stride and swipe at his 19thcentury heroes are glaringly apparent.  A concept that was not lost on his daughter, Helen Dery Woodson.

From his notes Strauch quoted from Thoreau: “The soil it appears, is suited to the seed, for it has sent its radicle downward, and it may now send its shoot upward also with confidence.  Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he may rise in the same proportion into the heavens above?”  In the margins, Strauch wrote, “Man, having died, should be reborn.”


It must be pondered: how much of Strauch was Strauch, and how much of the man did he allow himself to be?  He was considered by some to be a living repository of Emerson, Melville and Salinger.  How much of that scholarly concentration stayed in his head, and how much of it was truly felt in his heart is anyone’s guess. 


The fact that he shared a life of loneliness with his invalid wife, the ‘poor suffering saint Helen’, and that at such a young age, and in a time of need, what drew his only child away. 


Dery would subsequently immerse herself into her own zealousness, dedicating her work to “her father.”  In the end, what was it he had in this world?  Did he achieve transcendence?  Or was he simply seeking the psychological self-cure in his works and letters of the Romantics?

Sober and Intent - Helen Dery Strauch Woodson's
1960 yearbook picture from Liberty High School,
Bethlehem, PA.

Perhaps he was stifled by the lack of words spoken from his stern father and severe mother, ironically, those words are now locked and persevered in the Linderman library. 


And so, after some three years removed from Helen’s death and with forty years of “distinguished teaching,” Strauch retired from Lehigh in May 1974.  His house on High Street becoming the static tomb of his declining years.  Alone.


The Disobedient Daughter:


Helen Dery Strauch Woodson adored and still admires the man.  Strauch said to her during one of her prison sentences, “You have lived out my ideals.”


“Dery” (Helen Dery Strauch was named after her mother but called Dery to avoid confusion in the house.) was the only child of Helen and Carl.  The very embodiment of the civil disobedience that Strauch taught.


Strauch once said of being a father and professor, “As I grew somewhat older and became a father, reading Winnie the Pooh and The Wind in the Willows to my offspring, I added affection to my feelings for my students.”

  
He developed serial characters at bedtime including a memorable series about two mischievous elves. 


Dery remembers her father being extremely lovable and available to her.  Besides their mutual love of baseball, she remembers attending nearly every Lehigh football game with her father.  Her parents also made an intricate doll house.  The structure built by Strauch in his woodshop.  The tiny upholstered furniture and window drapery were sewn by her mother Helen. 


Dery had one natural child of her own and adopted eleven more, living out her deep felt religious beliefs. 

A newspaper stock photo
of Helen Dery Strauch Woodson
from her Gaudete Peace Center
days in Madison, WI.

All of her foster and adopted children had some sort of mental or physical handicap, believing in taking care of all of God’s abandoned children.  She then formed the Gaudete Center for Peace in Madison.  The story goes that one day, Woodson and her young son David found a pro-life pamphlet in the street. 


It was a not only teachable moment for them both, but a life-altering one as well.  It was then and there when Dery decided to adopt as many children as possible, especially ones apparently cast away.


Dery’s mother Helen was sick most of her life.  “She was obviously sick when I was eight, very sick when I was twelve.”


Aunt Margaret’s home became a sanctuary.  “I had two weeks in summer for a wonderful vacation and several times a week during the summer of 1959 when I had a job at Adams Clothing Store in Allentown.”


Helen Strauch had good stretches and bad, her recurring meningioma made life a struggle with seizures and small strokes.  “She was in good health in July 1964 when my son David was born.  She stayed with me in Wisconsin for his birth for three weeks…She was able to meet my first adopted son Ethan in 1970,” Dery said.  In the intervening years she was very ill, almost dying in 1967.  Helen Strauch finally succumbed in January 1971.

An early 1970s picutre of Strauch in his Lehigh office suite.  His muse
Helen died in 1971 and daughter Dery living in Madison, Strauch
increasingly relied on his renewed connections to his sister and brother-
in-law to ease his living.

Her death sent Carl deeper into what he referred to as his “psychological swamp,” his varying in intensity battle with depression he claimed to have fought since the 1950s.
  

“Both my mother and father shared the same birthday, September 25th…I still adore them both.”

 

Some fifteen years after it was first published, Strauch took on a defining analysis of J. D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye.  Perhaps this coincided with his only daughter’s ascendance to her rebellious teen years.  Perhaps the timing resulted from indications of Dery’s future peace activities.


Dery was seventeen when he published Kings in the Back Row: Meaning through Structure in Wisconsin Studies in Contemporary Literature, Winter 1961.  To this day many critical discussions of Salinger begin by establishing whether you are with Strauch or not because of this definitive piece.


Strauch understands, perhaps accepts, Holden’s perniciousness through Whitman’s view of accepting evil as part of the life-process as the personality “lets go.”  And thus “such Zen riddling easily translatable into existentialist understanding.”
 

Strauch balances this internal conflict between “organic and the mechanistic, the secret and the public, reality and appearance, awakening and death.  The Catcher hits off the strongest Romantic affirmations from Goethe and Wordsworth down to Lawrence, and Joyce.  Whether at Walden Pond, at Weissnichtwo (Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus fictitious towntranslates to“I know not where”), or in New York hot spots, the problem of personality remains; one surmises that, after a century and more, as A Portrait of the Artist and Steppenwolf (Hesse) likewise indicate, the struggle has become intensified.” 


“At the close of The Catcher the gap between society and the individual has widened perceptibly, and far from repudiating Holden’s secret world, Salinger has added a secret of psychological depth.”  “Holden is another bothersome case of arrested development, albeit rather charming in a pathetic and oafish manner.”


Strauch perhaps found his own paternal solace in The Catcher’s ambiguous ending with this summation: “Whatever the dreadful odds, the human spirit, though slain, refuses to stay dead; it is forever hearing the cock crow, forever responding to the Everlasting Yea….So the odds have not become too dreadful.  If, as this reading interprets the book, the scales tip in favor of the affirmation, it is so because the history of youth is almost always hopeful.”


Perhaps his understanding of rebellious youth helped Dery “let go.”


The Widened Gap between Society and Self:

The Silo Pruning Hooks - Helen Dery Strauch Woodson, Father Carl Kabat, Father John Kabat, and Lawrence Jacob Cloud- Morgan, with jack-hammer compressor as a backdrop, pictured here just before they entered the N5 nuclear missile silo area they would all be arrested for in November 1984. 

Helen Dery Strauch Woodson was jailed several times prior to her breaking into a nuclear silo area N5 in November 1984.


It appears that the late summer 1982 was a turning point for Woodson.  In early August her and her friends in Madison Wisconsin staged a “die-in.”  Actors pretended to succumb to a nuclear blast.  Dressed as the grim reaper, Helen sprinkled imitation blood on the “victims.” 
Helen Dery Strauch Woodson portrayed
the grim-reaper in a mock "die-in" in
Madison, Wisconsin in August 1982.
This was only the beginning of
increasingly bold demonstrations
of her civil disobedient beliefs.


The sprinkling of blood would become a running thread.


A month later, she was arrested by the Secret Service for splashing a red substance somewhere in the State Floor (which contains the Blue Room, State Dining Room, and etc.) of the White House.  The substance was flung onto the floor, walls, and a set of flags.


Strauch tried to hide his daughter’s peace activism away from his family, especially from his sister Margaret who was practically Dery’s second mother.


Dery’s first jail stint occurred from a civil disobedience arrest in Washington D.C. in 1982.  According to Dery, Strauch didn’t think his sister would understand.  So he told her Dery was on a ‘religious retreat’ for several months and would be out of contact.  Margaret accepted that. 


But after the White House incident and a six-month sentence Strauch “over-reached.”  He told his sister she was on a six-month world speaking tour on nuclear disarmament. 

September 1982

Margaret wasn’t buying it, so she called Dery’s home in Madison and spoke to her friends taking care of her children.  According to Dery, to them she implored, “You know where my favorite niece is and you’re going to tell me!”  And they did.


Margaret wrote to her and visited her once in her Washington D.C. jail.  “She offered me $1,000 if I promised never to do “it” again,” Dery said.  She wrote back and said, “I needed the $1,000 so I could afford to do it again.”


Months later, Dery’s co-defendant and long-time friend Father Carl Kabat drove Dery home from D.C. back to Madison, making a foray into the Lehigh Valley to visit Strauch as well as Margaret. 


“We spent two days in Allentown and Bethlehem.  Aunt Margaret took us and my dad out to dinner.  When we took her home after the meal, Carl (Kabat) walked her to the door and was inside for a few minutes.”


As they drove away for the return leg to Madison, Dery asked Kabat how they were fixed for cash.  To this he answered, “I don’t know about you, but I have a check for $1,000 in my pocket!”

Lawrence Jacob Cloud-Morgan jackhammers silo lid for this publicity
photo taken by Father Kabat's "holy spirit."  The jackhammer broke down
after only a few minutes work.

Father Carl Kabat and his brother John were both ordained priests in the Missionanry Oblates Mary Immaculate, a French order based in Rome.  They along with Lawrence Jacob Cloud-Morgan a Native American leader of the Ojibway Nation formed a group known as the Silo Pruning Hooks.  The name they derived from Isaiah 2:4- “…they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.”


On November 12, 1984 the four rented a 90-pound jackhammer and with bolt-cutters to cut through the minimum security fencing to gain access to the open field of the government’s N5 missile silo.  They also brought bread and wine, a book of prayers, and a baby bottle filled with imitation blood, and a multi-colored quilt inscribed with the words “Violence ends where love begins.”

The Silo Pruning Hooks with their quilt shortly before
entering the missile silo area.  The apprehension on Father
John Kabat (left), and perhaps the others, is palpable.

Carl Kabat also arranged for a person known only as his “holy spirit” to tag behind the four to snap pictures and to deliver the copies of the film and their press release to the media outlets in Kansas City.  Their picture outside the fence just before their action shows the glee on Carl’s face, while his brother John’s shows the apprehension and reservation he had about the action as he later disclosed during his long incarceration.


Much has been written about their trail and their highly unusual self-defense at their federal trial.  However, instead of having the desired deterring affect, Dery’s imprisonment for the silo incident only served to harden her resolve.  Each time a parole date was set with the possibility of a commuted sentence, Woodson threatened that they were only hastening to the day when she will strike out for peace again.  And finally willing to take a chance on her, upon her release in 1993, she remained true to her words. 


Dery’s actions went beyond the approved methods of her own sanctioning national groups to which she belonged.  Even the Nuclear Resistor and other groups decried her methods.


For Strauch’s final years, Dery couldn’t have been any farther away from him.  In the late 1980s, she was incarcerated in various California Federal incarnation centers.

Three days after her release in 1993, on parole from the Whiteman AFB protest, Dery used an unloaded starter’s pistol to get $25,000 from an Illinois bank teller.  She proceeded to pile the money on the floor and set the pile on fire.

Helen Dery Strauch Woodson's
last protest: Robbing $25k from
a bank only to burn the it,
landed her back in jail from 2004
to 2011.

She told witnesses: “Money is evil.  You don’t believe in God; you only worship money.”  She was convicted of bank robbery and other violations and was sentenced to more than nine years in prison.


More about Helen Dery Strauch Woodson’s peace activism career with subsequent arrests and releases can be found in the End Notes of this story.  She was eventually released in September 2011.  She vowed to live out her life outside among her grandchildren. 


And so far, as of this date, she has been true to those words.


Coda for a Time-Traveler:


While Dery served her time in California, Strauch began to flounder at home. 

It was in those years that this author saw a different man.  The puff and the bluster remained only in thin whiffles, his mind no longer entirely attached to certainty.

He had feathered his bed with many laurels over the years. 


In 1962, Strauch received the Lindbeck Foundation Award to “honor distinguished teaching performed during the college year by a member of the Lehigh University faculty. 


In 1970 he achieved Lehigh’s distinction of “Distinguished Professor of English.” 

He was awarded the honorary doctor of humane letters degree from Muhlenberg in 1973.


He was a life member of Phi Beta Kappa, the Modern Language Association, and the Emerson Society. 


But in his last years of clarity, he enjoyed renewed correspondence, for leisure, for family.  His brother-in-law, San Francisco writer and theater performer Charles F. Dery, tried to keep Strauch’s best interests in mind.


In a November 1981 letter, Charles repeats Strauch’s own words back to him.  He quoted, “‘Oh these sleepless nights, 3-4 hours of nocturnal insomnia,’ your description of growing old distresses me: ‘Little by little, increasingly, by slow degrees, mentally and physically, somewhat disconcerting and painful.  We are not what we were.’  Speak for yourself John Alden Strauch!”   


Charles F. Dery’s last known address was 834 Leavenworth St #305, San Francisco, CA 94109.  This author has sadly tried to locate any remnants of this branch of the Dery family to no avail.


In January, a protective Charles Dery wrote the following: “I hope you had a happy Christmas dinner at your sister’s as I did here…make it a best new year ever by moving away from the Lehigh Valley…”


Dinners were only temporary interludes of familial integration for Strauch and his sister Margaret who still lived in the family rowhome at 716 N. Eleventh St, Allentown.  She ever implored the ever obstinate Strauch to adjoin with her there.

Charles Dery’s postscript was heartfelt and paints a sad picture of this socially viable man with few friends and family nearby: “P.S. I have seen you toiling up High Street hill during a terrifically hot summer’s day and my heart went out to you when I saw that look of pain on your face…Get away from Bethlehem!”


He died November 13, 1989.  It was several days before anyone discovered that his life had lapsed.  His faithful dog by his side.


He was ever the Romantic, a seeker of eternal truth.  Perhaps a man born in a different time. 


Strauch once quoted Hermann Hesse: “Human life is reduced to real suffering, to hell…only when two ages, two cultures and religions overlap.”


Strauch’s lectures and analysis are stoked with the study of time. 


He said, “In the womb of the imagination an intellectual concept is clothed in literary flesh.” 


He explained how Hawthorne and Melville struggled with the overlap in time of two ages and in how our European and American origins and conditions overlapped.  “It was the overlapping that perplexed Hawthorne to the point of exhaustion; it drove Melville nearly mad.”


Emerson said, “If there is any period one would desire to be born in, is it not the age of Revolution?  When the old and the new stand side by side and admit of being compared…when the energies of all men are searched by fear and hope…”


He quoted Hawthorne on his character Dimmesdale: “It is the unspeakable misery of a life so false as his that it steals the pith and substance out of whatever realities there are around us…To the untrue man the whole universe is false.”

So, Strauch concluded, “Time is, of course, the enemy that must be transcended, though it should be apparent from the suggestions already laid before the reader that the curse of time grows out of ourselves.”  

Strauch found metaphysical doctrines in Emerson’s private words.  He quoted that “there is one mind common to all individual men” which essentially nullifies time. 

“Ah,” reads one of Emerson’s journal entries, “we must have some gift of transcending time.” 

In poetry, Emerson tells, how man allies himself with the eternal, since “poetry was all written before time was.”  (Hesse once wrote, “We had talked about the creations of poetry being more vivid and real than the poets themselves,” The Journey to the East.)

He makes the point that all human progress goes in a circle or rather on an ascending spiral curve “While we fancy ourselves going straight forward, and attaining at every step, an entirely new positon of affairs, we do actually return to something long ago tried and abandoned, but which we now find etherealized, refined, and perfected to its ideal.”

“The past is but a course and sensual prophesy.”

Strauch’s life bridged the lives of his mother and father were from the Old Country.  Certainly Heinrich’s disposition could have been forged in the misery of the Franco-Prussian War.  Wurttemberg, Alsace-Lorraine where the Strauchs were from was the focal point of that conflict, a tossed about pawn.   

He held parchment touched and perspired upon by Emerson.  He stood with figurative shoulders to revolutionaries.  He straddle numerous epochs, transformed hundreds of students.

He felt, in the end, only man’s love will survive. 

He wrote, “In three areas may man escape and transcend time - in love, religion, and art. 

However he added a coda to this with regard to religion and art.  “Even though, in the long run, time will deface these symbols of man’s striving.”  Though a hardened and christened Lutheran, time caused religion’s luster to fade for Strauch. 


So for Strauch, only his love would survive.


He has transcended time.  Strauch loved his fate: Amor fati.


Transcendence:


In 1984, the Library of America contacted Strauch by letter to ask for his help on its collection of Emerson poetry. 


His reply was starkly Strauch: “I am long past such endeavors…I have been out of touch even with my own work.”  “I shall make no further attempt to place the book, but shall return it to the top shelf from which I took it.”


Forever the critic and scholar, Uncle Carl Strauch annotated until the end. One of the last articles he probably ever read, he underlined this quote: “The great fact of human equality before God is not one to let the heart remain cold.” 

The vivacious Margaret Strauch, the second
youngest child to Heinrich and Anna-Margaret
Strauch.  Besides my grandmother, the oldest Strauch,
Great Aunt Margaret was my favorite.  Though I
do not remember her with any color in her hair as
seen in this picture that captures her spirit, I do
remember an incredibly kind and patient woman
who guided me in my youth.  Her perfect skin was only
the surface to her beauty.  I miss her dearly.

The word ‘cold’ was circled, to which he tagged with his own words, “Be warm.”

After his May 1974 retirement, he grew in kinship with his remaining siblings.  He and his sister Margaret, the youngest two, were closest of all.  He had time to be warmly affectionate with her and together they shared many memories of their youth.


He shared this memory in a letter to Bob Cole, one of the last he sent him, surely he as he stared into his own last days, Carl was waxing nostalgic.  “Margaret and I became attracted to crepe-marked homes after the funeral of an aunt…we would go into them in mock mourning, even if they were strange to us.”


His now almost brotherly relationship with Alex Liddie grew more affectionate.  He was best man when Alex took his second wife in 1977.


Strauch was said about religion and on the changes of the mind as age sweeps past: “In my old age I am now a rationalist without at all abandoning respects, thanks, and curiosity for the forms of belief that I have passed through, or that have passed through me.  I continue to have a great devotion to the nature poets.”


Strauch concluded with, “In a long lifetime a person gradually grows out of one form of mind and character into another, and all these possibilities were lodged in his genes.  Whitman was a master in expressing this secret, this torment, this puzzle.”


Questions were now being posed from his Strauch persona to himself as CarlBe warm


He began to write of doubt, the years immersed in Emerson, was there something he missed along the way?  He enjoyed detective stories and ancient history.  He and Helen collected and read over 1,000 detective stories, mostly English whodunits: Ngaio Marsh, Josephine Tey, and of course those of Sherlock Holmes.


Carl’s life, his chosen path, of wading through the middlemen of religion and philosophy, was reaching its terminus.  Daily rapport of his colleagues, the buzz of his students, a long fifteen years of retirement, of exile.  His suffering saint Helen was long gone, her memory…was she just a Muse? 


Helen Dery was miles away in prison. 


Helen Dery said, “A couple of years before his death, he told me that I had lived out his ideals.  We remained very close throughout his life.”


Her last conversation occurred on his birthday a few weeks before his death.  Toward the end of the conversation, he asked her if she’d “received his recent letter.” 

“Concerned, I said ‘no,’ when did you mail it?”


He laughed then said, “I didn’t send you a letter…I just wanted to see if you were still on your toes.” 


Carl was living out the ravages of age and frigid metaphors. 
 

He glossed over all of it with this:

“But it’s in the winter, when the cold is encamped about my house and a blizzard is raging that I’ll take off the shelves one of my great favorites, Dorothy Sayers’ The Nine Tailors, with a Scotch or bourbon on the rocks within pleasant reach.”

Cozier words may never have been written better.



~ ~ ~ The End ~ ~ ~


~ ~ ~ End Notes: ~ ~ ~


Strauch’s  death was followed by his brother Edwin’s in 1991 and Leonard’s on Valentine’s Day 1993.  This left Margaret alone in the home that Heinrich and Anna Strauch started.  This author remembers a cold Christmas day with a few flurries.  I drove my 1987 Volkswagon Golf down to Allentown to retrieve Aunt Margaret for our Rabenold family Christmas dinner. 


It was her first Christmas alone.  Her usually pleasant demeanor was tinged with darkness and her otherwise beautiful smile, a bit empty. 


She was the last of the Strauchs.  Ruth (her niece from her sister Kate) and Carleton Amey checked in on her.  But it wasn’t long before her once clear mind became too muddled to be on her own. 
The Last of the Strauch's - My Great
Aunt Margaret Strauch.  Though she had
serious engagement, she never married.
She was a member of the charitable
Telephone Pioneers, the largest corporate
volunteer network in the world.  Her
fellow Pioneers served as attendants at
her funeral.


She spent her last few years in the Phoebe Home in Allentown. 


She was last of the great Strauchs.  She died in June 1998. 


The Strauch Family Tree:

Though Heinrich was from Württemberg and Anna Margaret Foesch was said to have come from the Badenhofen, near Alsace-Loraine, DNA testing of this author’s father, the closest bloodline available to me to the Strauchs, reveals the largest genetic ethnicity group to be forty-two percent Scandinavian Peninsula.  (This author’s DNA report is practically a carbon copy of my father’s.) 


Aunt Margaret often liked to say, “They say we were descended from Napoleon.”  But she never offered any other context except a little knowing smile.  It is unclear if she was referring to her mother’s Foesch side, or the Strauch side.  Something about her stories seemed to always favor her mother’s side. 


The Strauchs, a Great American Family:

Carl Ferdinand Strauch was born to Heinrich and Anna (Foesch) Strauch in what is today the town of Lehighton, near Beaver Run Road and Jamestown Drive.  His father was a butcher to the miners.  Originally settling in Tamaqua’s Dutch Hill, and then to the hamlet of Hacklebernie near Mauch Chunk, the family moved often due to the continuous low-pay and frequent strikes of the miners which provided fallow fields for reaping profits.


His parents both met and married in Tamaqua after their separate arrivals in the 1870s.  His father Heinrich was in his twenties and still living with his mother and father.  Anna Margaret Foesch arrived shortly after Heinrich. 


Upon the death of his father, Heinrich and Anna, along with Heinrich’s mother Katharina moved to Hacklebernie with their oldest child, my grandmother, Maria (‘Mary’).  Katharina lived only two years beyond her husband.  Heinrich arranged for her body to return to Dutch Hill next to her husband.


Being the youngest affords one distance from the early struggle.  It also gives rise to a certain degree of independence and both positive and negative examples of what can be a possibility. 


Even though none of them aspired higher than silk workers, a phone company operator supervisor (My dear Great Aunt Margaret), and a custodian at a public library (Uncle Edwin), most of them were avid and auto-didactical readers of literature. 


Of his five adult grown sisters, only the first two ever married, the younger three never did.  Of his five adult brothers all married except the second youngest Leonard.  Henry was divorced.  Prior to World War I, they used names typical of their origins, in birth order: Maria (pronounced ‘mari-ah’), Katherine (Kate), Carolina (‘Lena’), Wilhelm, Ludwig, Elizabeth (Lizzie), Heinrich, Edwin, Anna-Margaret (‘Margaret’), and Carl.  But when America entered the war against Germany, the Strauchs, like many German-American families wanted to draw less attention to their origins: Maria became Mary, Wilhelm became Willie, Ludwig became Lewis or Louie, and Heinrich became Henry.  Interestingly, the Strauch’s chose in 1908 to spell Carl with a “C” rather than the traditional German “K.”  At least one set of twins died in infancy. 

This wooden box was burned and stained by Floyd Harrier
to my grandmother Mary Strauch Rabenold.  Floyd would
marry her younger sister Kate.  One of two boxes given
to Mary in the months before she married Zach.  Though
not certain, it appears that Floyd and Kate were already
dating or married when these gifts were given.  Note Floyd's
name inscribed at the top right.

Second eldest daughter Kate was married to Floyd Harrier before the family relocated to Allentown from Lehighton in the September of 1912.  In fact, that was the month first daughter Mary married Zach Rabenold of Lehighton.  The timing of the move and this marriage seems to have some connection, as Mary remained to live in Lehighton the rest of her long life.  So by 1912, all the Strauchs but Mary were living in downtown Allentown. 


Heinrich established a butcher shop on Second Street.  At first located at 403 N. Second St, it eventually moved down to the 300 block (336) and by the 1920s to the 200 (228 N. Second).  In the first years, most worked for the silk mills: Willie a “silk worker,” Lewis a “loom fixer,” Henry a “salesman,” Edwin a “clerk,” and Margaret a “phone operator.”  By the 1930s and 40s, Henry was a coal and ice deliveryman, Lewis a foreman for United Textile Corp on North Tenth St, Margaret a Bell Telephone operator supervisor, Lizzie worked for Swiss Textile Mills on Lumber St.  Leonard held his job as a quiller at the Catasauqua Silk Mill into the 1960s.


Like her parents, Mary and Zach Rabenold never owned a car.  They walked everywhere.  Zach walked over a mile each day to his job at the Lehigh Valley Railroad repair facility known as Packerton Yard.  They frequently used his railroad pass to travel to Saturday evening dinners at the Strauch home.  The Strauch siblings of Leonard, Elizabeth, and Margaret also did not own a car.  And neither did any of them marry.


Leonard was perhaps the least sociable, perhaps better described as asocial.  At the end of WWI he served as seaman in the navy.  And then during WWII, while in his early forties, he was assigned to Lighthouse duty along the New England coast.  He served from 1943 until January 1948.  He was discharged from Fort Meade in Maryland.  He also spent time in coastal protection in Venice Florida.


Louie served overseas in WWI with Company A of the 49thEngineers from May 1918 to July 1919.  He was known to be the sullenest of the siblings, known to give beatings to the younger boys.  Carl remembered only one encounter that left lasting physical and emotional pain.  However Willie and Henry received more frequent torment.  Willie also served in WWI, in the medical corps.


Heinrich died in 1939 followed by Anna in 1945.  Lizzie, always the mother figure to the younger siblings, continued to live communally with Leonard and Margaret.  And so it was with the Strauchs.  Each contributing what they could to the good of the whole.  Curiously none of them appeared to work with their father at the family meat market.  Perhaps as a function of Heinrich’s garrulous nature or due to the need to bring in outside money.


Lena was said to be her father’s favorite and perhaps the most attractive.  She died of tuberculosis in October 1917, the family portrait was done in the months before she died.  Willie’s daughter Dorothy also died of TB in 1949.  She had been engaged during the war to an Army Pilot Arthur C. Weida.  They never married.


One of Strauch’s nephews, fourteen years younger than Strauch, also became an English professor.  Richard Harrier, son of Kate and Floyd, went on to a distinguished career at N.Y.U., specializing in Shakespeare. 

Floyd Harrier entered the Call-Chronicle photo
contest in 1922 with this picture of his
niece Gladys Rabenold (center) and his oldest
daughters Pauline and Arlene seated in the
 swings.  Floyd was married to Kate Strauch.

Lizzie, his matriarchal older sister who worked as a silk mill weaver and who spent her years with her other unmarried siblings of Leonard and Margaret, could hold her own against Strauch.  Leonard also worked in a silk mill.  Margaret worked as a Bell Telephone operator and later as a supervisor. 


Their home at 225 ½ North Second St. Allentown was directly across the street from her father Heinrich’s butcher shop.  On July 2, 1924, while Kate was at the movies.  Pauline and Arlene, ages seven and six, had their little brother, four-year-old Floyd Jr., at the corner grocery store for penny candy.  Neighbors heard the squeal of tires and the thud.  Floyd had set out home by himself.  The collision caused his head to strike the road and fractured his skull.  He was pronounced dead at 4:30 pm.  The papers said it happened “under the watch of his father.”  This incident put a new dimension onto their martial strain.

Though just a mill worker, Floyd Harrier seen here front, right in 1938, was involved as a union organizer and as part of Allentown's Keystone Athletic Association.

Another child of Strauch’s sister Kate and Floyd Harrier was Richard.  A bright young many who would become an expert on Shakespeare and a professor at N.Y.U.  He felt deserted by his father for running off with his “socialist pals.”  In a letter to the editor in 1981, he thanked his recently deceased HS Principal Dr. James W. Richardson for his guidance in forming him into the man he became.  He credited Richardson for pushing him to take the exam for the Muhlenberg College scholarship at a time when he “had no sense of direction.”

Richard Harrier had an exceedingly capable mind, shown
here his talent at chess.




















Dr. Richard Harrier's March 1981 letter
to the editors of the Morning Call.

















Dr. Edward J. Fluck:

Dr. Edward J. Fluck was a Renaissance man cut of the same cloth as Strauch.  Winner of an archaeological fellowship, a master at Western languages, Fluck was also an accomplished violinist.

Dr. Edward J. Fluck's 1930 Muhlenberg Yearbook photo.
It is unclear just who crossed out the word 'the' in Strauch's Lost Illusion poem in the edition given to Fluck.  The edition given to Strauch's brother
Edwin does not have the same mark.  (Incidentally, the copy given to
Strauch's Professor Simpson has been ordered by this author on eBay.
I'm anxiously curious as to what that page 12 will look like.)
The valedictorian of his class and briefly taught at his alma mater from 1937 to 1947.  He received top marks in his exams and was the sole person selected by the society nationally.  He had to turn down the Vogeler fellowship at Johns Hopkins in favor of the Institute fellowship.  He left in July 1932 to study at the principal museums of France, Germany, Russia, Austria, Italy, and finally Greece.  He returned home the following spring.  Eventually he would become editor at Rodale Press. 


Fluent in both Latin and Greek and most of the languages of the Western World.  Before his early death at the age of 53 to a rheumatic heart, Fluck was responsible for translating and publishing several books, including French novelist Gustave Flaubert’s book Dictionary of Platitudes.  He edited dozens more.


He never married.

Fluck and Strauch were practically
neighbors growing up in Allentown.
Morning Call - July 1932

































Helen Dery Strauch Woodson:





Resistance in Captivity:

On March 16, 1988 Helen Woodson walked through the main gate of Alderson Prison carrying a banner and statement protesting the nuclear arms race, pollution of the environment and prison conditions for women.  She was apprehended outside the prison by a patrol vehicle.  She was temporarily placed in solitary confinement and then transferred to Federal Correctional Institution (Pleasanton) in Dublin, California.  Here, Dery carried out another resistance action.  She chose the date, December 10, 1988, in honor of Gaudete (Rejoice!) Sunday.


Dery walked to the recreation field track bearing an athletic bag stuffed with sheets, towels and papers dosed with flammable nail polish, set the bad next to the fence and ignited a “lovely Advent blaze.”  Then she hung a banner reading: “There is no security in the US government, nuclear weapons, chemical contaminants, prisons and UNICOR- Military prison industries.  Fences make slaves.  Tear Them Down.”  And then, with toenail clippers, she snipped the “security” alarm wire, severing it in four places.  She was sent to the hole and charged with attempted escape, arson, destruction of government property and inciting a riot. 


In late January 1989 she was moved to Metropolitan Correctional Center in San Diego, a downtown stone-tower skyscraper that houses 1,000 federal prisoners.  Before leaving Pleasanton she learned that the evidence for her action was destroyed and she was not prosecuted.  After a short stint in San Diego, she was transferred to Marianna Prison in Florida.  As a result of federal appeals court ruling, Helen was released on parole on June 14, 1993.  During the spring of 1993 an appeals court overturned a lower court ruling and affirmed the government’s positon that it could release Helen on parole.  Helen filed a civil suit asking to be held in prison until the expiration of her sentence, and then be conditionally released. 


Three days after her release, she was involved in several controversial protests (which went outside the bounds of nonviolent protest) focusing on the idolatry of money, corporate greed and destruction of the earth.  She was arrested and convicted for these actions and was sentenced to 202 months in prison.  She is not at the Marianna Prison.

On March 9, 2004 she once again was released, at which she replied, “I will never abide by the terms of supervised release.”  Her original lawyer and sympathetic friend from her 1985 arrest, Henry Stoever, said Dery considered herself a “soldier of peace.”  Within hours of her freedom, she sent threatening letters to U.S. District Court in Kansas City.  

The next day she sends “Second Warning” letters.  Later that day she arrives at the District Courthouse in Kansas City and pours a mixture of cranberry juice and red paint onto the security desk and screening device.  She is detained by deputy U.S. marshals and placed under arrest.  According to her own testimony, Dery claimed to have phoned, “This is a warning.  There is a weapon of mass destruction in your building. Choose life.”  Upon questioning, Dery claimed to be referring to the housing of a copy of the U.S. Constituion, which she considered a weapon.  She rationalized that our government willfully carried out actions that caused the deaths of citizens throughout the world.  The Constitution enabled the government to carry out such acts.

She was sentenced to fifty-one months.  The judge had harsh words for Dery at her sentencing.  

“You have taken a whole life from the seven children you adoplted and abandoned.  You abandoned three developmentally disabled children to be cared for by other persons and public institutions.  You are a very selfish, self-centered person.  That’s a disgrace.”


Father Carl Kabat defended Helen in word at her hearing stating her children were well-cared for by her friends after she went to prison.   Chief U.S. District Judge Dean Whipple asked Dery where she considered her home to be.  Dery said, “Right now, I live in this courtroom.  I live wherever God takes me.”


She invokes her father’s name in her final sentencing.  “I was literally a child of war.  My father, the late Carl Strauch, was my mentor and he taught me reverence for life against the backdrop of WWII and the Korean War.  I came of age during the Vietnam War, and my two oldest sons were born during the years that young men of my generation were coming home maimed or in body bags.  So I stand today in spirit with courageous veterans like my friends George Vesey, Louie de Benedette, and Cal Robertson who returned from Vietnam to oppose all war.” 


Further on, she alludes to her mother when she stated, “Is there anyone who has not lost a loved one to cancer?  Our nation’s pesticides are truly weapons of mass destruction.”

Helen Dery Strauch Woodson's first
photograph as a free person after 27 years
in prison.

Helen was finally released from prison on September 10, 2011.  In her last letter to me from prison, she vowed she would dedicate herself to understanding and getting to know her grandchildren.



The 97-year-old Clara Brobst, mother of longtime Strauch and Lovecraft friend Dr. Harry K. Brobst, took her first airplane ride in 1984.  Dr Brobst would out live Lovecraft by several decades and Strauch by two decades when he passed away at the age of 100 in January of 2010.


Miscellaneous Notes from Carl F. Strauch:

From Strauch’s “Romantic Harmony & the Organic Metaphor”:

“It was increasingly assumed that Romanticism had already passed into a well-deserved oblivion and that certain degraded, sentimentalized remnants would quickly follow…D.H. Lawrence, from Goethe to Thomas Mann…that far from dying, Romanticism has survived and survived vigorously into the twentieth century…as in a rebirth, in such figures as Yeats, Joyce, Lawrence, Mann, and Herman Hesse.”


“It should become clear as I proceed that the organic metaphor is central to the entire discussion…The analogy of the growth of a plant from the seed or germ dominated every other conception that the Romantics held; and as a consequence, wherever they looked, at themselves, into their own minds, at society and the natural order, at their own compositions, everywhere they saw organic growth and relation, harmony.


“For all his interest in ideas Mathew Arnold was largely belletristic in his approach, based by his partial view of the Greeks, “who saw life steadily, and saw it whole.”  Arnold’s yearning for classic calm and serenity betrayed his profounder moods of despair, melancholy and alienation, “the dialogue of the mind with itself,” which as in his own Empedocles on Etna, he summarily dismissed.” (The plot centers on a man who can no longer feel joy)

Handwritten notes of Carl F. Strauch - In the days before word-processors and Google
it is a great wonder how men like Strauch were able to compile such thorough and concise
research.  This page marked "4b" indicates that Strauch needed to insert these key ideas
between page four and five.  His handwriting always a cross between cursive and print.

(How Strauch himself identified and lived his life like this; summarily dismissing modern poetry, his demanding, short temperedness, his attention to scholarly pursuits and basic routines, of living outside himself.)  “Arnold’s failure as a thinker lies in his effort to transcend his own psychological dilemmas by resorting to slogans of a rationalistic and moralistic generality.  In this manner he could emulate the Greek calm and serenity, persuade himself that he was coming vigorously to grips with intellectual and social problems and finally at the same time, evade “the dialogue of the mind with itself.”


In the same way Arnold’s insight into the Greeks emphasizing calm and serenity, is only half an insight, and it will not stand comparison with Nietzsche’s terrific vision of the Greeks as a profoundly suffering people in The Birth of Tragedy.  Arnold’s modern spirit, the rationalistic battle against entrenched smugness and complacency, is an important half, but only a half of the modern activity, the other half, but only a half of modern activity, the other half being the concept of the organic.  Metamorphosis, growth, pain and suffering, joy and delight are all part of the organic unfolding both in personality and in epoch, and these expressions of upward striving emerge from the dark substratum of the unconscious.  Calm and serenity cannot be imposed from without, but must be achieved as the fruition of the spirit, the harmonic expression of all human cultural resources.  This Nietzsche saw with an amazing profundity when he described Greek tragedy as maintaining a precarious balance between Apollonian calm and serenity and Dionysian ecstasy.”


“Writers and readers, all reflective persons are in this great modern period divided between mechanistic order and vitalistic striving, and occasionally we all cross over from one view to the other.   If man is a living organism who may enter into a metaphysical freedom or achieve psychological freedom, if he is not a mere thing or a dead object, if “existence precedes essence,” then Romanticism may be Existentialist.  But I am aware that such an equivalence brings its train problems, complexities of its own, and I therefore happily leave off at this point.  (However, Strauch wrote the following, then struck it out: “As I do, I become happier as I recall Maurice Friedman’s statement in The Worlds of Existentialism, ‘Existentialism is not a philosophy but a mood embracing a number of disparate philosophies…”)


Other Notes: Thoreau: “The soil it appears, is suited to the seed, for it has sent its radicle downward, and it may now send its shoot upward also with confidence.  Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he may rise in the same proportion into the heavens above?”  Strauch noted, “Man, having died, should be reborn.”


Coleridge’s poem with the albatross is similar symbol as Melville’s Moby Dick, a symbol of life; the sea journey is metaphor for death and rebirth;

In Walden as in Moby Dick the pattern of symbolic death and rebirth is used to express revolt against static mechanism in favor of dynamic organicism.  The Romantics always showing man’s strident steps toward self-actualization, a spiraling toward upward perfection.


“The soil, it appears, is suited to the seed, for it has sent its radicle downward, and it may now send its shoot upward also with confidence.  Why has man rooted himself thus firmly in the earth, but that he may rise in the same proportion into the heavens above?” – Man, having died, should be reborn.


Whitman’s “Song of Myself” uses symbolic death and rebirth as a structural pattern; Whitman is ‘fascinated diversitarian.'

“I have been a rebel against reports for the last eight years.”  “Paradox: In this course there is a subtly of mind – Our great Eastern writers have not been appreciated as a school…I think that in the next twenty years we should establish that they are more subtle than the English Romantics, but not necessarily greater…dubious.”


“The thing that you don’t want, you rush toward it – by God! As Emerson knew.


“I doubt very much if you will like Emerson.  After a lifetime devoted to Emerson research, I can say, largely because he is hard.  And of course there is the modern resistance against anything except novels and short stories.”


On the relevance of Emerson, Strauch said in his first lecture of the 1965 term: “It has got to be a habit among scholars to begin an essay about Melville or Thoreau by pointing to that guy Emerson- I have toyed with the idea of a course in Emerson, but I know that by the end of that time students would be repulsed by him….I’ve found ample proof in documents I read this summer.”


Substitute Religions: “I usually took up Emerson, and I’d point out that the Victorian period was full of “literary middlemen” who interpreted religion or science for intelligent but perplexed readers who could no longer accept the old faith or who needed a guide to advances in biology, specifically Darwinism.”

  

“Criticism of Emerson, like that of a good number of other authors, has made extraordinary progress in the past thirty years- progress that, on the whole, is along the lines I have just indicated.  We owe to Ralph L. Rusk a biography as complete and exact as we could wish and an almost exhaustive edition of the letters.  The publication of the whole journal is in progress; a volume of hitherto unpublished early lectures has appeared and two others are promised.”  -these are the cut out words of Gonnaud’s dissertation that cited Cameron, Whicher, and Strauch.

The D. G. Dery Mansion Photos:
The beginning of D. G. Dery's end - In September 1922 Dery tried to support his failed holdings by guaranteeing bonds.  The last sentence of the fine print tells it all: "We do not guarantee but believe it to be true."
By March of 1923 the paper tiger
of  Dery's finances were disclosed.

Skylights of the mansion as seen through 

Leaded glass cellar windows of Native Americans Hunting
look down into what was known as the "Dery Lounge."

The Pennsylvania Hex Murders of 1932: 






Universal Truth - Union Hill, Memorial Day

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Thank you for coming today.

It is Memorial Day.
Union Hill Cemetery, East Weissport, Pennsylvania.  Held Street runs parallel in the distance.  Named after native son
Reed Gaumer Held in 1962, son of Ethel and Marvin Held.
Thank you for coming today.


It is Memorial day



I am here to talk to you about universal truth…




Close your eyes and make a picture in your mind.


For one moment,


Picture a family member,


Who is no longer here.



Someone who loved you,


Someone who placed hopes and dreams for you and your future.



And here is the universal truth:


There is no bond stronger than the bond that holds the family together.


All of our hopes and dreams emanate from our family…



Here today, we the people, gathered here on Union Hill,


We hold these truths to be self-evident.




This was and still is, a tight-knit neighborhood.


You can see all the family homes around us. 


You can see where the Bauers’ and the Flickingers lived, and where the Getzs’ and the Millers’ lived, and where the Haydts’, and the Helds’ all lived.


You can imagine the children playing, the mothers calling their children home for dinner.  
Walter in his Union Hill backyard of his family.
Adam and Dora had seven sons: James,
Willard, Walter, Kenneth, Earl, "Kelly,"
and Raymond.  James died in 1919.  The
last of the Haydt's, Raymond, died last week
21 May 2018.  I only knew Ray, and he
was the best of men.



You can imagine all the first kisses and all the skinned knees that happened on this hill… 


These are the simple pleasures and pains of life.



But things aren’t always simple are they?


The families of Union Hill have given much to secure the freedoms of our nation.


They too, had hopes and dreams, for the children, they sent to war.



I’d like to tell you about some of the people that lived here:


 
Radioman Walter Haydt.  The Shoemaker-Haydt
Legion Post #314 is named in part for him.
Adam and Dora Haydt raised six boys on this hill. 


Ray Haydt, the youngest, died one week ago today. 


He was the longest living resident of this hill. 


He told me how hard it was on his family while 3 of his brothers served in battle during WWII.


It was nothing but constant worry.




Williard Haydt served in the Army Artillery. 


Earl Haydt suffered such severe frostbite he had to take the boots off a dead fellow soldier at the Battle of the Bulge.  He received a shrapnel wound there. 


Walter Haydt was a radioman on a B-24 bomber.  His plane went down in December 1942.


But Adam and Dora had to wait two long years before their son was officially deemed KIA.


The waiting made the agony so much worse.



Then there was the Miller family. 


Elwood M. Miller was the son of a railroad engineer.  Elwood was the oldest child of Jennie and Warren.  Elwood was killed at one of our bloodiest battles Americans ever fought in: Guadalcanal in the South Pacific.

 
Elwood M. Miller of Union Hill
He was killed at Guadalcanal 15 Jan 1943.
The Legion Post is named the Shoemaker-Haydt Post in honor of Walter Haydt.  The Lehighton “Elwood Miller AmVets” post is named after Miller. 


Ethel Held, with postmen Blaine Gerhard and Karl Hinkle,
look at the new Union Hill street sign for Held Street
in April 1962.  It was named for Marvin and Ethel Held's
only child Reed Gaumer Held who went missing on
a surveillance flight in the South Pacific in 1946. 


And the name of Held Street, which runs directly behind us, was officially created in 1962 honoring another Union Hill son, Reed Gaumer Held.

  
Reed was the only child of Marvin and Ethel Held. 


Ethel’s last name was Reed.  Ethel’s mother’s last name was Gaumer.   


Reed Gaumer Held, a powerful name.
Reed Gaumer Held in his 1939 Lehighton High yearbook.  The only child of Ethel and Marvin, many of their most important
hopes and dreams where in their son.  Marvin was an instrument repairman at the New Jersey Zinc Co in Palmerton and residents of Union Hill.  Their home is one of the finest in the neighborhood.

 

He was a radar specialist who trained among other places at M.I.T. 


Ethel and Marvin had hoped Reed’s name would go forward…


To not only embody the former generations of his family…


But also as the family seed going forward….



But all this died, the day Marvin and Ethel received the news.




The Marvin and Ethel Held home yesterday and today.
































He was part of a top secret intelligence gathering mission in the South Pacific. 

And then his plane went missing.

Warren Miller, leaving home  for his last run as railroad
engineer, on 28 October 1962, twenty years
after his son Elwood died in WWII, and twenty years before he
would die in 1983.  Bone of my Bone, Flesh of my Flesh.  



Bone of my bone,


Flesh of my flesh.




There is no bond stronger than the bond that holds a family together.



It is indivisible.



We hold God-given rights,


to Life,


to Liberty,


to the Pursuit of Happiness.



But in war, we sometimes forego these.


Instead, we offer up our brightest and our best. 


And we are willing to test the bounds of family.




It goes against natural law, for Mothers and Fathers


To send their sons and daughters to war.



Families carry unexpected deaths like these with them forever.
Like a stone in their shoe, 
a constant reminder of sorrow,
at every step in life.



Neither Reed Held nor Elwood Miller had any children.


Reed Gaumer Held died with his powerful name.


Walter Haydt had an ir-retractable smile.



Walter’s daughter Janice grew up without her father,


but Walter’s smile lives on in Janice’s smile.

 
Janice holding her father Walter Haydt's hat.

So please, take the flower provided to you today. 


And rest it at the head of the Held family, the Haydt family, the Miller family, and to the seemingly countless other veteran families buried on this hill.


Let everyone who comes here know that you were here, thinking of them…


And please…


Remember what these families gave.




To all you soldiers, now at rest. 


Sleep well.


Rest in the comfort of knowing..


That we were here to remember you. 




Know that you wereloved


And that you still,are loved…



Rest well, knowing that what YOU loved, so much, continues here.




There are families visiting here today.

 

There are families still living on this hill,


Families who still love one another…


Who still invest, their most important hopes and dreams,



In each other.



We hold,

These truths,

To be self-evident.


There is no bond, stronger than, the bond that holds the family together.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~





























Neither Haydt's nor Held's bodies were ever recovered.  There is a marker at at Fort McPherson National Cemetery in Nebraska for Haydt.

This is the universal grave of Walter Haydt's entire crew of the B-24 "Texas Terror" that went down with army
payroll aboard.  For complete details of Haydt's story, click here.


Some other Union Hill Stories and Graves:

Andrea Beth Miller's 1980 Lehighton High
yearbook photo.  She entered the Army after
graduation and worked with the Military Police.





















Andrea Miller was killed in her apartment in Germany on Christmas Day 1984.  There is one unconfirmed story that she was involved on a drug bust on a boat.  One of the men waited until Christmas Day to exact his revenge on her for her part in the raid.
Although she lived on Reber Street, next
to the old stone Reber homestead, she
was buried on Union Hill Cemetery.  One
of her hopes, was to one day be
a mechanic.



























Hal Hongen of Union Hill died in France
just one month before the 1918 armistice
to end WWI.
























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A Sense of Our Purpose - Clyde Houser Annex Veteran Program

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Sponsored by the Lehighton Historical Alliance

Duty and Determination

Members of the 1st Marine Brigade - Korea 1950

Happiness is having a purpose.

Some lack that in life.


We all lack that sometimes.


Our country needs a purpose.


We all need a purpose.  Heck, even dogs need a purpose otherwise they'd be bored and misbehave.


It was a summertime picnic.  It was in Weissport, at Jacob's United Church of Christ.  And despite its long traditions and its 175-year history, one of the oldest in Carbon County, the attendance at their annual picnic was surprisingly low.  Even lower than previous low years.  

The older members reminisced about the 'old days' when it was large families plus their extended families all in attendance.  The bounty of food that seemed to multiply, the homemade root beer and mint tea, the singalongs that went on and on.

Bob Getz, a sergeant with the 517th Heavy Maintenance Co. Field Army during WWII, lamented.  He said our towns, our church, even our country, were lacking purpose.  "As much as I hate to say it," he went on, "what this country needs is something to rally around, like we did in the war."

That was August 2001, one month before 9/11.

Some Commonalities: Many times, men and women who enlist do so for a sense of purpose.  Many veterans I've interviewed, including my father, all say something similar, "What else was I going to do?"  

Obviously on at least an underlying level, there was a sense of duty and of patriotism.  

During this presentation, we will look at other commonalities of service.

Buddies – 
That's what Buddies do - Gene Holland (r) and Murphy washing
Holland's car before leave.  At one point during his time at
Camp Pendleton, Randy and his buddies bought a car together.
It is unclear if this is that car.

Buddies sign up together, they buy a car together to drive home for leave, they cajole each other, they will argue with each other like siblings, but they will always, fight for each other.  (Before the Korean outbreak, my dad and some of his Camp Pendelton buddies, including Gene Holland, bought a car together and they were going to drive it cross country for leave.  

But the car kept nickel and diming them into debt, each man paying his fair share, and eventually the idea and the car ownership vanished.  One anxious letter he wrote home defending the idea to his parents:




  • Samples of Letters Home from Randy Rabenold - Before the war, from Camp Pendleton, CA: "You'd think the way you talk that we're driving thru hell on a go-cart.  DONT WORRY ABOUT ME!" and from Korea: "P.S. Don't worry about me.  I am very safe behind this thirty cal...".


Letters Home

       
Love letters, last letters, letters saying not to worry.  Letters with white lies, telling them they are safe.  Letters and now phone calls, telling their family they are safe and completely out of harm’s way and letters that warned against gossip.  (See an alternate version of "Loose Lips Sink Ships" at the bottom of the letter from Ezra Kreiss.)
Ezra Kreiss was lost in the English Channel on a training run leading up to D-Day.  For more on his story, click here.



 The letter no one wants to get - Ezzie Kreiss, KIA.




Walter Haydt, of Union Hill, was also KIA/Missing in Action.  You can read his story by clicking here.

Bobby Kipp was the one Bulldog who didn’tmake it home.  Don Blauch remembers he and Bobby were on the transport ship to Korea together.  It was a typical Pacific summer and they both found it too hot to sleep below deck.  So the two friends found a life boat they sleep in each night, out under the stars.  Don Blauch told me how the spoke through the night, talking about girls, their former glory on the football gridiron, to their hopes, dreams and fears.  George and Dorothy received one of those letters as well.  Their only child.  They received one last letter from Bobby dated the same day he died.

Duty and Determination
My grandmother was Rebecca Nothstein, the great, great granddaughter of Lt. Peter Nothstein who fought with General Sullivan and served for more than 5 years of the Revolutionary War.  

Washington was trying to hold onto New York early in the war after Bunker Hill.  Sullivan and his men were pinned down, getting decimated by the Hessians.  Many were surrendering and being taken prisoner.  Peter Nothstein had the gumption to sling his musket across his back, and to swim across the Long Island sound to the safety of Washington’s retreating army from Manhattan.

Clarence Smoyer is here with us today.  He was and still is a very humble man, but in the thick of the fight, he was a determined marksman in his new Pershing Tank.  His three quick, successive shots changed the course of a battle that changed the course of the war.  He was a true ace in destroying 5 armored vehicles.  

His stopping the German Panzer in the the Battle of Cologne is one of the most famous films of WWII.  When Cologne fell, it was Germany’s fourth largest city, and the first taken by our American forces.  (Mr. Smoyer, born in Parryville and grew up in Forest Inn,  was present at the service today.  A national book is soon to be released, "Spearhead" by Adam Makos, click here to order.  You can read about Smoyer's Cologne battle here. You can watch the film footage  featuring interviews with Smoyer here.  Clarence Smoyer interviewed on History Channel.)

Lehighton's Major Randy Fritz, Spike Long, and Clarence
Smoyer on Memorial Day at the American Legion with the
author Ron Rabenold.


Of course these were young men.  Letters from Sweethearts were important.  Don Blauch had many penpals.  Here are a few


Here is Gustav Schaffer and Clarence Smoyer reunited in Germany.  Gustav was a member of the Panzer tank crew
destroyed by Smoyer in his Pershing.  Upon meeting Gustav, Clarence said, "Well I guess we can now be friends."Click here to watch a video featuring both Smoyer and Schaffer.



These are just some of the letters Don Blauch collected during his service years.  He told me he never met any of them.
The ladies on the car above were from Texas, the lady in the dark suit was from Alabama.  The lady in top right and bottom center was Cecelia Ament from New Jersey.  Don told me he would take an extra pen-pal from the home town of his service buddies.  He had an extensive collection of these pen-pal letters in a trunk in his basement.

The Birds and the Bees – Truth and Fiction

One truth, one myth –

“It is better to fight the enemy you know than you don’t know.” - After less than a month of duty, in September 1862, at the Battle of Antietam, the war’s bloodiest 2-day battle, the green recruits of the 132nd PA were given the necessary courage to charge into the Confederate line because they were being chased by a swarm of bees.

“A bird in the hand…” - During the first day at the Battle of Gettysburg, up on Oak Ridge, PA’s 90th Regiment was being outnumbered in close fighting.  While the concussions of ordinance reverberated the air, a simple nest of young robins was dislodged from the safety of the tree.   With momma bird squawking to bring her peeps back together, a soldier from the 90thPA Regiment braved a storm of bullets to gather up the peeps into the nest and place it back onto the limb it fell from.

In researching the dedication of the 90th Regiment monument, there is no mention of the birds' nest story.  In fact, the nest is referred to as a dove's nest, a dove representing peace and the backpack hung on the tree to show that the soldier's day was over, symbolic of the peace that followed the war.  It appears that the bird story has been passed down from tour guide to tour guide at Gettysburg.  I myself heard this story from a guide on a tour of the battlefield back in the 1990s.

The Dogs of War - “Sexy” & “Sallie Ann”

Sallie Ann - Started as a pup with the 11thReg as they trained on the fairgrounds near West Chester.  She was said to have made several reviews with the men in front of Abe Lincoln.  

They said she had no fear in battle and often stayed with the wounded and dying men at Gettysburg.  During the first day, she was separated from the retreating men from Oak Ridge.  However, when the dust cleared after the third day it was discovered that she had stayed back on Oak Ridge, comforting the men from the 11th who were wounded.  

She made it to February 1865, just two months shy of the end of the war, she was killed by bullets under heavy fire.  The men buried her on the spot.
"Sexy" - The most traveled dog in the Marine Corps.

     "Sexy" was Born in China, taken to Guam in 1949, marched with the Division Band in Guam, taken to Camp Pendleton 1949-1950, "recruited" and taken to Korea by Marine Bob Neubert.  She made the Inchon Landing, protected the Kimpo Airstrip, and barked at Bob Hope during a USO show at Woson.  He was lost at the Chosin in December 1950.

Sacrifice and Deprivation - Near Total Annihilation 

Speaking of Chosin – My father missed it, but most of his outfit did not.  Dad was sent home because his father died.  After spending part of October and much November at home, they called him back and was crossing the Sea of Japan just as our men were cut off and surrounded by the Chinese at the Chosin Reservoir.  He and some loose company of others were about ready to be sent in to help break through to break the men out.  Lucky for dad, our men were able to get out themselves.  

But it came at high cost.  The 1st Marines had to break through the overwhelming numbers of Chinese just to join up with other pockets of men similarly surrounded.  Not enough people realize how desperate this battle was.  The Marine Corps places this battle inside their top 3 most desperate battles ever fought (Imagine what you know of Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, the Hue, and the second Fallujah.).  It was the closest they ever came to total annihilation.  

Dad remembers the bitter cold and the 1,000 yard stares of the men.  Some of his 1stDivision buddies didn’t make it out.  Francis Eugene "Gene" Holland was one of them.

He always says, the timing of his dad’s death saved his life.


Moses Mertz of Mahoning Valley listed  “weak heart” on his WWI Draft card.  According to Chester Mertz, a WWII veteran and nephew of Moses, Moses had such a strong sense of homesickness, that his heart gave out, just one month before the end of the war.


Deprivation and underwear - The First Marines during September and October of 1950 in Korea had been engaged with the enemy non-stop.  So much so, not only had few even had chance to bathe in two months, most didn’t even have the chance to change their underwear.  Once the men began to establish some stability at an area in Korea known as the “Bean Patch.”  The crusty uniforms literally needed to be scrapped off their bodies.  There was never any consideration of keeping and washing these clothes.  Underwear and all were burned in a large bonfire onsite, as new uniforms had arrived.

Speaking of unmentionables: Underwear and a Purpose in Life – Our servicemen fought side-by-side with some British troops in Korea.  Many atrocities were committed against these prisoners.  

Many got homesick and gave up.  The British soldiers noticed something unique about the American GI’s compared to their more austere behavior:  The Americans were far more emotional.  They had ups and downs, like when a new POW arrived whom the men knew, they hugged and cheered and laughed and cried at their reunion.  Some wistfully spoke of the fine dinner they would have once they were liberated and back home, but they’d skip their meal of cattle slop sorghum and millet.  These men were the most prone to what the Brits called Give-Up-It is”….

Randy Rabenold's band mates who survived
Chosin with British Commandos.  Francis
Eugene "Gene" Holland died there
7 December 1950.


A delegation of men would spot this and get tough with these men, saying, “If you don’t eat, you don’t shit, if you don’t shit, you die.”  One of those British officers was Lt Bill Cooper of Northumberland Fusiliers – He credits his survival under the harsh Korean camps with his frame of mind.  Each day, he woke up, and demanded this of himself, by saying to himself: “What worthwhile thing are you going to do today?”  His answer?  To wash the soiled, ghastly rags the men who were crippled with dysentery wore as underwear.  Each day, Lt Cooper washed and cared for the men who most needed it.  It was his sense of purpose in life, no matter how ghastly, that kept him going.
My Dad, Randy Rabenold is labeled #5 here.  #6 is Sandy Scaffidi pictured here and above.  Scaffidi endured Chosin while Randy was just re-crossing the Sea of Japan from bereavement leave at home.

        

 





IRA Smith from New Tripoli,Kistler Valley – I learned of Ira’s story after finding this picture in a book published in May 1945.  He was shot in the hand at the Battle of the Bulge and taken prisoner. The German surgeon taunted the bullet in his face and happily showed Ira he was hit by an American bullet.  

Then he and other POWs were taken to a warehouse for storage until they could be moved to a camp.  While on the third floor of that warehouse, American bombers came and hit the building.  The bomb hit the outside wall.  

Moments earlier, the Americans were sitting along the floor against the walls while their German captors sat at a table in the middle of the room.  Superiors came to the room, noticed the Germans were "surrounded," and were told that they should sit along the outside of the wall.  They were killed, along with some Americans.  

Ira fell through the three stories and broke his back.  But when his captors told him to march, with the help of his friends, he had to march.  Had he been unable to move, they would have killed him.


Once they arrived at Stalag 12A, the real interrogating began by the SS.  There were guys coming out of the interrogation barracks smoking cigarettes, rewards for providing good information.  Ira said, “I told them if my back wasn’t broke I’d kick all their asses for talking.”

        

 



POW-
 Nothing sums up the service, the sacrifice, determination, deprivation, and sense of duty than our POWs like Ira.  Moses Rehrig – Andersonville.  How he survived 2 months at our Civil War’s most notoriously deadly prison camp in Andersonville Georgia is anyone’s guess.  There were 1,849 men from PA alone who died there.  He came home and was a civic minded contributor to our town Lehighton.  But one day Sgt Rehrig took his own life, hanging himself from the rafters of his shed they say because he feared he was going blind.



Richard Levan, another graduate of the the old LHS, the current Clyde Houser Annex building, Class of 1960.  He once described how rats were eating chunks of his face in a VietCong POW camp.





PTSD/Buddies
It is little wonder that local men, came home still fighting the war in their minds.  Like Mike Wargo; missed the support of his buddies; Marcus Maier wandered from old soldier home to home, mostly among confederate soldiers, trying to find a sense of purpose or to rediscover the comradery he missed from war, or perhaps absolution.   And to the countless others who have come home with the war still on their minds, we should salute and honor them for giving so much.


A Sense of Purpose – Of Tradition and of Duty

Generations of Longs – Henry Lange, to Henry Long, to Spike Long – Spike’s Dad is Henry, served in the Military, his dad was also Henry, - Spike’s grandfather’s grandfather was the original Henry Long, who served in the 132nd Pa Regiment who was induced by the bees.

From Joe Semanoff, to Gene Semanoff, to Captain Pete Semanoff.  Gene Semanoff’s Uncle Willard Reabold, KIA but received a Silver Star for his actions in Luxemburg, his first day…


Your Mission in Life -

But that’s not my mission, that’s not what I was sent there to do…


Add caption
Larry was part of the Pennsylvania National Guard.  He got the call many were getting across the nation during Operation Iraqi Freedom: You will report for duty, after Christmas.

First Lieutenant Larry Ahner and his 33-man combat support military police platoon was trained for route and area security work. 

The timing of their arrival in Baghdad was a twist of fate.  It was a mission for Bravo Company. But Larry and his Charlie Company landed first.   His orders: Provide security for detainees.  In other words, prison guards. 

Larry had to follow orders, even though this wasn’t the mission he was trained to do.
He soon realized these were what’s known as “High Value Detainees.”  And not just terrorist leaders and other undesirables. 

For the next 11 months, Larry and his platoon would be guarding the Butcher of Baghdad, the Ace of Spades: Saddam Hussein himself.

Larry was in charge of Saddam from March 2004 until Feb of 2005.  He watched him garden, he made sure he got a haircut, he took him in the Rhino Bus to his arraignment, he monitored his meals, his visits from his defense lawyer, everything.  They built a cell within the belly of one of Saddam’s main palaces, built in the middle of a man-made lake on the fringe of Baghdad.

Upon meeting Saddam, with a firm handshake while looking the brutal dictator square in the eye and he said, “I am in charge here.  I will keep you safe and well.”

Saddam was a treacherous socio-path that could not be treated lightly.  He was highly engaging and charismatic.  And Larry knew it would be easy for him and his men to fall under his spell.  So occasionally, he required his platoon to watch the brutal videos and descriptions of Saddam’s barbarism to remind everyone just who they were dealing with.
        

 


On Larry’s last day, when saying good bye, Saddam said, “I knew from when I first met you, you were an honorable man.” 

Instead of just a western handshake, Saddam offered the traditional Iraqi farewell: a hug, a kiss at each cheek, and ending in a gesture of sincerity with his hand over the heart.

That was February 2005 just months before his trial for his crimes of genocide ecocide.  On 30 December 2006, Saddam was hanged by his neck until dead.

1st Lt Larry Ahner received the Bronze Star, for his “impeccable, outstanding leadership qualities, with limitless potential for further positions of responsibility.”

Not bad for a from Dutchman from Long Run.





Military service has helped many to see their purpose.  

    It becomes a defining part of their lives, a tool to shape and guide that perspective...
    

    And for some, clarity and fortitude.

The Lehighton Boys and Girls Band

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The nostalgia overwhelms me.


It’s been forty- years since I joined the band. 
Camp Blakslee - Lehighton Boys Band in 1911.  (All photos, unless otherwise noted, are property of the Lehighton
Boys and Girls Band.  Use of these photos is prohibited unless permission granted by the board.)


Mel Hill is playing the saxophone, his posture exactly matching my memory of him.  He was of the second generation of the Lehighton Boys and Girls Band.  In Mel’s time it was only for the boys however.  The name and rules changed in 1981.
Mel Hill playing the saxophone in a 1982
Big Band Ambassadors Concert in Lehighton.


(Paula Farkas, Gail Faust Rakos and Donna Ringeisen Maleski were pioneers.  By being the first females to enter the band in over 50 years, they took their share of abuse from some of the boys.)


I remember fearing Mel Hill.  Not because he was a robust veteran of the last Great War but because he ran a tight ship.  He had a long experience doing what he did, and he did it well.  It wasn’t long for this fear of mine to evolve into a deep respect.  That respect has grown stronger and more complete in my current memory.  Standing in this hall, I wish my current self could meet Mel all over again. 


The framed charcoal-sketch of the band’s chief benefactor, James I. Blakslee, the Fourth Assistant Postmaster General of the United States, appointed by President Wilson, still calls my attention.

James I. Blakslee's sketch as it hands at the band hall.
The benefactor of not only the Lehighton Boys and Girls
Band but in other Lehighton institutions as well.
After all he has done for Lehighton, perhaps it is
time that our town can set things right by
correctly spelling "Blakeslee" Blvd.

The hall is empty.  It is more or less exactly the same.  They’ve modernized the windows from the metal-frame, single-paned and glazed, drafty windows from 1957.  The walls are the same, but now painted a light blue.  The mission of the place is unchanged.


The echoes are still here.  I’m reminded of coming in for my weekly lesson. This shell has two modes.  Quiet and serene versus the punctuated echoes of notes.  The peace of the place always waiting to be filled with notes. 


Notes from beginners, a member of the preparetory “Prep Band” struggles through the weak, unintended side-toned squeaks of a clarinet during his weekly lesson.  The hesitant, clumsy beats of the drummer, unaware of his acceleration, is reined in by the director’s taps of the baton on the metal chair.




It cannot be escaped.  It was true for me then in a way that differs for me now.

The Sixth and Cypress Street location of the hall as it was being
built c. 1957.

The same scents are in the air, though less prominent.  The years of dances, spittle from the horn section, and floor wax, all mingle to form the hall’s unique scent.
This photo from c. 1960 shows then director Charles Fronheiser
giving weekly lessons to five trumpet players.  Fronheiser was a graduate
of the band and so was his son Charles Jr.







The Lehighton Boys and Girls Band’s existence is a saga.  Independent notes of effort from many, blending their talents into a sometimes cacophonous harmony. 
The hall as it looked after its completion in 1957.  See the end notes
for a picture of the dedication from that day.
Membership used to be 75 cents per week.  That bought your weekly half-hour lesson and one hour session with the whole band.  In my day, it was $2 per week.  
A c. 1976 picture by Bob Fatzinger.

Current director Alyssa Schoch was a 5th grade student of mine.  She took over the reins of the band in January of 2016. 


Blakslee was the self-made man of Asa Packer’s nephew who had an ability, energy, and foresight to start projects worth working on and seeing them through.  He became secretary of the state democrats during a factious time of restructuring, endearing him to then New Jersey Governor Woodrow Wilson.


Blakslee did the things he saw needed doing.  He was fond of the phrase, “Everyone has their own row to hoe.”


But as legend has it, before leaving town for his new duties in the Wilson administration, he asked the band hall to return $500 to him.  Not because he needed it.  The money could only have been a fraction of what he shelled out to start the band.  He asked for this because it was his way of saying “I gave you a hand up, not a hand out.”  


The band evolved out of Blakslee’s involvement with Lehigh Engine #2.  The Lehighton Boys Band was originally the Lehigh Engine #2 Company band, started in 1910.  There was also a time when there was a separate Lehighton Girls Band as well.  (See the pictures of both boys and girls in the picture at Saylor’s Lake.)

The Lehighton Boys and the separate Lehighton Girls Bands stayed for 10 days at a time at Saylor's Lake to perfect
their craft in the summertime in the style of camp as well as being the "house" band to perform for other guests at the resort.



From the Morning Call, August 1927.
Though the band’s impetus began with Blakslee, it fell to numerous others to hoe many hard rows for Lehighton’s young musicians.  Much musical fruit was borne of the efforts of the Board of Directors and the Ladies Auxiliary.   They made civic pleas for financial aid from the community.  The directors held bank notes to keep weekly dues at a minimum to ensure nearly everyone in town could afford to join.


I think fondly of A. Henry Reiss, a man I never met.  He was the band’s first musical director.  He couldn’t have been paid very much.  The papers liked to mention how he came from New York, as if that added extra value to his efforts.  To know the man’s gifts is to know the true measure of the man.


Despite what I assume was low-pay, it surprised me how content looked.  He was obviously doing something he loved.  He looks solid, as if he were composed of solid brick and mortar.  Born in New York, Reiss arrived in Lehighton in 1911 from his job in a music store in Richland County, South Carolina at the age of 35. 
This undated photo, most likely at a concert at same Pocono resort or lake is from the 1940s when the band wore
blue capes.  The director is Charles Kuebler of Jim Thorpe (Mauch Chunk).

The Lehighton Boys Band in 1914 with their first director A. Henry Reiss-
Seated (l to r): William Frantz, Harold Rex, Walter Frederick, Harold Oswald,William Heberling, Warren Thamarus, Herb Fritch, Peters, Herbert Kresge, Wesley Shaffer, Randall Brassee, Harold Hontz, Thomas Bryan, and Donald "Toots" Bryan.
Standing: Floyd Trainer, FLoyd Harleman, William Smith, Norman Ronemus, Ritter, Howard Blank, Delroy Rehrig, Reed Brower, Harold Stermer (front), Paul Radcliff, Clifford Fenstermacher, George Ashner, Earl Snyder, Warren Ronemus, Ray Moulthrop, William Hontz, Ervin "Irving" Young, Daivd Roth, and Harold Rehrig.

Board of Directors 1976
Front (l to r): Robert Fetterman, Carl Hochberg, Larry Markley, Paul Gross, Walter Hoover, and Mel Hill.
Middle: Richard Ashner, Carmen Hill, George Markley, Elliot "Sammy" Markley, Chester Kleintop, and Ed Christman.
Back: Paul Smith, Mel Everett, Franklin Fisher, Bruce Begel, and Ed Mertz.
The directors of the band had rich backgrounds.  Taking over after Reiss was Arthur Guimes, a Greek-born graduate of Boston Conservatory.  His obituary in 1922 described him as “a musician of note and one of the most widely-known bandmasters of this region.”


I remember playing in both the Prep and the Senior band at many cake walks.  Sometimes at church festivals and sometimes on the band hall grounds itself for the annual fundraising block party with games of chance, funnel cake, and bingo games inside. 

1976 Ladies Auxillary - Front: Unknown.
Middle: Unknown, Melba Gross, Mae Markley, Unknown, Florence Kresge, Unkown.
Back: Virginia Hill, Maureen Markley, Unknown, Anna (LaRose) Everett, and Unknown.
(Please help identify these ladies by contacting me through Facebook or at rabenold@ptd.net.)  

Unfortunately we do not know any of these ladies from the Ladies Auxillary. 
Please help by contacting me on Facebook or at rabenold@ptd.net.

The Prep band would play for the cake walk in the afternoon, followed by the Senior Band, and sometimes the Dance Band or pieces of Mel Hill’s Big Band Ambassadors would entertain the evening crowd.


I remember the annual bus rides to Dorney Park, chaperoned by Mel Hill and sometimes Chester Kleintop and Elliot “Sammy” Markley.  (Yes the same man who patrolled LaRoses skating rink with his whistle.) 
The 1978 Lehighton Boys Band Board of Directors - Front (l to r): Mel Hill, Jerry Reed, Mel Everett, George Markley, and
Elliot "Sammy" Markley.  Middle: Paul Smith, Paul Gross, Chester Kleintop, Carl Hochberg, and Dale Burnhauser.
Back: Larry Markley, Unknown, Ken Leffler.


Here is a list compiled by someone in the band hall listing all the
graduates of the band who have gone on to continue their life in music.
Both men were regular fixtures around the hall.  We boys were unaware of all their hard work.  At one time, the band hall held Friday night dances with live music.  The hall of course was built for this.  It had bandstand risers at one end and spacious room for dancing on its hard wood floors.


The ladies Auxiliary sold cookbooks with recipes donated from members and friends of the band hall.  These fundraisers were essential to keep the dues at such a low rate of $2 per week.  The hall still holds Sunday night bingo each week.


We members of the band were always busy each Memorial Day weekend, driving around to all the rural cemeteries, playing music at the small and intimate ceremonies around small family plots of graves and of course marching in the parade and playing for the main services that Monday.  A tradition that continues today.  

And of course there were the many other parades: Halloween, Veterans Day, and Firemen’s parades.


Looking back at the dedication and what it meant to be in the band is what strikes me now as I look back.  I delayed my own entry to the band through my own reluctance.  (Perhaps ‘reticence’ would be a better word?)


My two older brothers played the trumpet as our father did in the band.  Though I consider myself quite dependent on my love of music today, I really had little enthusiasm to join as a 10-year-old. 


After a year of putting off my mother’s urging, I finally agreed to make some noise as part of the percussion section, certainly this agreed with my sense of fulfilling my parents’ wishes and appeasing my desire to invest as little as possible (i.e. I wouldn’t even have to learn musical notes, just beats!)


My dad left the band when he entered the Marine Corps in June 1948.   After Parris Island he was accepted into the Marine Corps Divisional band.  At that time, the Marine Corps was able to send only fifteen cadets in the whole nation, into the Navy School of Music in Washington DC.  My dad and his cousin Nuny got two of those spots, mainly because they had been members of the band.  (To read more about these men, click here.)


Many former Lehighton Boys Band members went on to careers in music and particularly in the service bands.  When my dad arrived at the school, the director greeted him and his cousin Raymond “Nuny” Rabenold with enthusiasm, as the band’s reputation had preceded their arrival.  Nuny’s father Raymond was the longtime secretary of the Board of Directors with his mother Edith on the Ladies Auxiliary Board.


“Back in the day,” in the early days of the band, music was everywhere.  There was no large gathering of public gathering of people without it.  The fair, church festivals, parades, private parties, building dedications, ad infinitum: people danced and cake walked to live music.  Musicians have been supplanted by digitized sound.


Lehighton’s first generation of band hall musicians begins with A. Henry Reiss and Hontz’s Pirates.  Reiss was the first director.  Passing onto the second generation, under the direction of Charles Kuebler, we have the “Lehighton Boys Band March,” written by Kuebler in the 1930s.  

Within those first generations of musicians under Reiss and a Greek-born director Arthur Guimes were Charles Fronheiser.  First as musicians themselves and later to conduct the band.  Fronheiser and Hill combined to lead the band from 1946 up to 1980. 

Not only did the Lehighton Boys and Girls Band stay and play at Saylor Lake, but so did former band hall student Ervin "Irving" Young.  (See the circle above.)

One of Ervin "Irving" Young's first bands, here at the stage of the Lehighton High stage in 1920s - L-R: Frank Drumheller, Robert Montz, Ervin Young, Floyd Harleman, Harold Oswald, and Frank Whitman. 
Ervin "Irving" Young's "Peerless Sextet" in Lehighton in the 1920s.  (This photo courtesy of the Young Family.)
Busy Summer- Ervin Young's band had plenty of
work in the summer of 1921.  This ad from July,
the next one lower right from August.

The national music scene was reflected within our own bands.  Ervin “Irving” Young’s first band in the 1920s was the “Peerless Sextet.”  The men plainly doubled on more than one instrument, but it featured Irving on drums, a trumpet, trombone, saxophone, piano, and two xylophones. 


The piano, drums and guitars were considered part of the rhythm section.  In the Big Bands, there were these same essential pieces, with the addition of an expanded brass section of 3 to 6 saxophones, trumpets, and trombones.  Tubas were in fashion early, supplanted later by the stand-up double bass. 


This was reflected in Ervin’s later band, “Irving Young and his Californians.  From 1925 through 1926, Young’s band toured extensively with vaudeville and film star Frank Farnum, who was known as an “eccentric” dancer of the Charleston.  


Ervin was also known to play for cruise ship bands.  One ship, known as the “Evangeline” was based in New York City.  The Irving Young and his Californians played extensively on this ship in the 1940s.  He also played around Lake Hopatcong in New Jersey.


However, in the era of my family it was the Hill family that meant so much to Lehighton music.  Melvin Hill directed the band from 1962 to 1980.  Brothers Carmen and Maynard were also part of Mel’s various musical endeavors.  Claude and Esther Hill were a five star family during the war. 

The 16 Masters of Music at Flagstaff, Summer 1948 - Maynard Hill (at mic), Mel Hill (center saxophone), and Carmen Hill on piano.  Mahlon Kistler Jr., of Lehighton Hardware is back row, right trumpet.

June 1947 Morning Call.
After the war, the Hill brothers started a big band after the war known as the “16 Masters of Music” (the number was sometimes 15).  It featured Maynard Hill on vocals, Carmen on piano (part of the rhythm section) and Mel on saxophone.  They played regularly at Flagstaff Moonlight Ballroom in the summer of 1948.


Maynard had gone to Penn State during the war for training and became involved in music there.  He had Mrs. Frances Andrews as his instructor.  Mrs. Andrews also worked with the high school chorus in State College at the time.  She had a request from Rockview Prison to provide some music for the inmates.   

Here is Gay Hill's story:


“Maynard came to Penn State with the Navy program.  He joined the college choir, directed by the same woman who directed the High School choir, Miss Frances Andrews.  The High School choir was invited to sing at the nearby penitentiary (Rockview State Prison).  Miss Andrews arranged for Maynard to sing solo as part of the program.  I was the tenth grade accompanist for the choir.  All went well.  Four or five years later, the sailor returned to the college campus.  He wanted to make a recording of songs as a Christmas gift for his mother Esther.  Perhaps he re-contacted Miss Andrews and once again she sent him to me.  And so I played for the record, and ultimately many more performances throughout my college years, marrying Maynard in 1951.” 

In those in-between years, Maynard had formed a band with his two brothers, Mel and Carmen.  Gay (Brunner) Hill remembers driving from State College to Flagstaff, in the late 1940s, on a date with Maynard so that he could sing in his brothers’ band.


(Maynard gained fame outside of music as well.  He was the first to develop a model plane to fly a trans-Atlantic flight from Nova Scotia to Ireland.  His experimentation was critical in developing drones within our military.  His work also was able to confirm and discover science heretofore unknown.  See the footnotes for more on this.)


Another first generation band hall player was Donald “Toots” Bryan.  Toots Bryan played trumpet in Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians band in the 1930s.  It was the Fred Waring band where Les Paul first became well known.  

Les Paul had a trio within Warings Band featuring Chet Atkins’ older brother Jim.  Of course in the 1940s, Les Paul went on to perfect the solid-body electric guitar.


Waring’s band with Lehighton’s Norman Ronemus and Bryan produced wide-selling hits.  They were top-selling artists for Victor Records.  A foxtrot called “Dancing in the Dark” and “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” are among their best.  Ronemus played with Waring for about 30 years, from the 1930s up to the late 1950s.




In what might be known as the 3rdgeneration Lehighton Boys and Girls Band Hall player is Denny Seiwell.  He went on to become a renowned drummer on his own with Paul McCartney’s Wings.  He is featured on Wings’ signature piece, “Live and Let Die.”  

Seiwell’s brother Darrell was a long-time music and band director at Jim Thorpe High School and plays in a few popular local bands.  Denny has visited with Lehighton Boys and Girls Band members in 2010. 



The Seiwells happen to be great nephews of “Irving Young.”  Both Denny and Erwin happened to be drummers.  Denny is the grandson of Clara Young, who was a sister to Ervin.  

(Denny Seiwell remembers visiting his great uncle Ervin in Brooklyn as a kid.  One of Ervin's sons played AAA baseball as a pitcher in the Dodger's organization.  That son later worked for the FBI.)


Director Fronheiser guided the band until his unexpected death in 1962.  His own son Charles was a musician in the band and went onto musician third class in the U.S. navy.


Of course Blakslee wasn’t the only benefactor of the band.  A man from New York City, George Brandenstein was given the distinction of lifetime honorary director.  

Brandenstein became acquaintances with the Merluzzi family in town through by way of the garment industry.  Brandenstein’s family made infant-ware “Fancy Knit” clothing in Manhattan.  

Richard and Gordon Merluzzi of Lehighton were just getting involved in the garment business in the 1950s and Brandenstein became a mentor and friend to the Merluzzi family.


Upon Brandenstein’s death in 1973, his will stipulated bequeathing $1,000 to both the Gndaden Hutten Hospital and the Lehighton Boys Band.  The rest of the money was given in $1,000 increments to about 8 New York City area charities, and $10,000 went to his family.   He also gave $1,000 to his dear friend Richard Merluzzi.

In my time at the band in the late 1970s (3rdor 4th generation perhaps?), a few people stand out to me as being extremely talented and dedicated.  There was Duane Reichard, a natural on drums, still serves the community with the Lehighton Band, formerly the Lehighton Mens’ Band. 


And of course there is Bradley Cressley.  Whose early love of music was first honed at Sixth and Cypress Streets.  He went onto the Lehighton Band too, married the conductor of that band’s daughter, Paul Smith’s daughter Beth and has now become the conductor of that other of Lehighton’s veritable music traditions.  

Cressley is also active with Zion’s U.C.C. and directs the Zion Opera Workshop, the yearly theatrical production still set to live music.


Then there was another musical person I always admired from the band hall: Dave Mantz.  Dave on trumpet to me was always the best.  Up until recently he was the go to trumpet for “Taps” at memorial services for the Lehighton Band.  In our youth as well, often the one to retreat behind the main mausoleum at Lehighton Cemetery to play the “echo” repeat of the song.


His own father was a founding member of Mel Hill’s Big Band Ambassadors.  He was also a member of the Lehighton Band and Perseverance Jazz band.  He died at the age of 46 in 1988.  A skilled clarinetist, Don was playing at a band performance at the Kreidersville Church when his heart gave out.


The Big Band Ambassadors started out in 1978 as the Carbon-Lehigh Big Band.  Two of the men were from Lehigh County (Eric Schlosser and Don Trainer were from Slatington) along with Lehighton’s Mel Hill and Mantz.


A 1981 article from the Morning Call stated that Schlosser had “traveled throughout the world and has performed with numerous area bands.” 


Mel Hill was the oldest of six children from Claude and Esther (Berger) Hill.  At first a molder for Lehigh Stoves in Lehighton, Claude supported his family by painting and paperhanging.  They were a Five Star Family during the war.  Mel served in the army and play in the divisional band. 


Carmen trained in desert warfare for the army. Gerald was in the combat engineers in the army while his twin sister Geraldine trained as a Navy nurse.  And second youngest brother Maynard who turned 18 in February of 1943 joined the naval reserve and received V-12 training at Penn State.  Born in 1932, the youngest Hill sibling, Lamont, was not old enough to serve.


More than Music –


Bob “George” Ronemus was in the Senior Band in the mid-1970s.  He recalled a time when the band was asked to perform at Lehighton’s Legion Post #314.  The audience was largely WWII veteran couples out to enjoy a night of big band style music.  

Ronemus said:

“I was a drummer in the jazz/dance band…We named ourselves ‘Mel’s Marauders,’ after our leader Mel Hill (I thought it was cool because my dad, Dr. Roy Ronemus, was a field medic in Merrill’s Marauders during the war.)  I remember playing that night…we were punks playing big band music from their time.  The audience was thrilled and we got several standing ovations.  After 40 years I still remember that night like it was yesterday.  Mel was a great leader and a great man.”
I can remember when Mel’s persona first began to soften for me.  His mother Esther lived across the alley from my grandmother who lived at Ninth and Mahoning.  Mamie was widowed in 1950 and Esther lost Claude in 1970.  The widows had become close friends. 


It was around 1978 or 79.  I was cutting Mamie’s yard when Mel asked me if I’d cut his mother’s grass. 


I remember how grateful he was for me to do it for $7 per week and how careful he was to teach me lessons I hadn’t yet realized, namely how not to fill the gas when the engine was hot.  His instructions were less about the quality of the work than they were about watching out for me.  My fear of Mel began to fade.


All of us who have been associated at the Hall have had their lives enriched in some way by it.  For me it was less about building musical talent as it was in lessons in life.  I do have an amplified appreciation for music today.  We almost never know where the positive influences flow from in our time.


Lehighton was lucky to have Blakslee in its life just as I am grateful to my parents, my aunts and uncles at Haas’ Store, and people like Mel Hill.


Blakslee had a vision of how he could positively impact his adopted hometown of Lehighton, determined to make an impact on each voting ward, Blakslee oversaw the construction of All Saints Episcopal Church in the Third Ward and he was a benefactor in construction of Lehighton’s Engine Company #2, building a new building there in 1917 for the Second Ward.  


He purchased the former Lewis Graver homestead with a mind’s eye into turning it into Lehighton’s first hospital for First Ward.  However his unexpected death in 1926 brought an end to that dream.  His widow instead donated the home to become the current American Legion Home.


As my years begin to flow by, I think of that first generation of the band, and I feel a measure of their existence on my life today.  I think of Henry Reiss and his life in music.  Though he began to sustain himself working as a barber, his love for music never faded.  By the 1950s, both he and Addie were living in the Tampa Bay area. 


There is nothing more true than music and there is no joy more pure than what it brings to our lives.  Those are undeniable facts.

Hontz's Pirates at Saylor Lake 1913 - Sitting(l to r): Harold "Pat" Oswald, Donald "Toots" Bryan, U.S. Hontz, David Roth, and Floyd "Tarp" Trainer.  Standing: Delroy Rehrig, Herbert Fritch, Wm. Hontz, Floyd Harleman (great uncle to one time director Dale Harleman), Warren Ronemus, Earl Snyder, Thomas Bryan, Harold Hontz, and Ervin "Iving" young.  Ervin Young was a brother to Lehighton's legendary "Young's Bakery."  To read more about their story and how they arrived in Lehighton click here.

With my return to this hall, I have found my band hall memories now encapsulated in resin and amber.  The toil and the dread I once felt here is now tempered with joy.

Uylsses Hontz of Lehighton, among others,
 was a dedicated person for the band.

I think of U. S. Hontz and how he took more than ten days off to cook for the band at Saylor’s Lake.  It fascinates me that so much effort was undertaken to get the band out to Monroe County in the 1910s and 1920s.  

Surely it was mostly dirt roads between here and there at that time.   (1911 was the year the U.S. postal service ended a stage coach run between Lehighton and Kresgeville.  A private firm re-established the run three days a week.)

I think of all the times Mel Hill and all the others could have found perhaps something less aggravating than teaching reluctant students like myself.  They all gave much of themselves.  And in that time, those of us lucky to have been part of this band hall, had moments when we lived in truth, in something pure. 


Music is always about something bigger than ourselves.  I am personally and forever grateful to them for how my experience within the band hall has enriched my life.  I feel so fortunate that I am able to have this experience of reflection on what this hall has meant to me.


In combing for information on Reiss, I discovered a letter he wrote to the Tampa Tribune in October 1954.    Read Reiss’s own words here 

(Read the article below from Reiss starting at "Attention, Music Students.":)





It would be wonderful to think that Reiss found at least one student to devote his talent to in his latter years.

For Reiss, the music never stopped.  And he never stopped sharing his gift.

And that is the universal gift of music.


Thank you Lehighton Boys and Girls Band.


Footnotes:

1957 Building Dedication







Knight Clarence Smoyer

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Lehighton native and subject of Spearhead, Clarence Smoyer, received one of France’s highest honors: the Medaille de la Legion d’Honneur on Saturday, May 11, 2019 at the French Consular Agency of France in Philadelphia.  The medal was presented by Michael Scullin, Honorary Consul of France.


Medal ceremony at French Consulate of Philadelphia - May 11, 2019 - Clarence Smoyer with Sam Semanoff and his daughter Cynthia Beurvenich. Jack Semanoff, Evelyn Semanoff and Gene Willard Semanoff are behind Kenneth Wong in yellow tie.  Michael Scullin, Staff Sgt Kesterman of 1st Armored, and Ron Rabenold.  Wong, the Civilian Aide to the Secretary of the Army of Pennsylvania and former President George W. Bush's Commission on Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders, along with Peter Semanoff, were instrumental in working with France to secure this honor for Smoyer.

The honor was established by Napolean in 1802.  Consul Scullin spoke of the 60,000 Americans who died on French soil and reminded the gathered friends and family of Smoyer of the close bond between America and France.



Clarence recieved the distinction of Chevalier (knight.)

“Our two countries standing for the universal principles of liberty, tolerance, and equal rights,” Scullin said.



"And though we fought alongside one another through many hardships starting back in our American Revolution, we have never lost that special bond between our nations."


“Mr. Smoyer, your contributions to the liberation of France are examples of what an individual can bring to the relationship between America and Europe.  Your accomplishments and sacrifices have been great,” Scullin said.




Malcolm “Buck” Marsh (36th Infantry Regiment) had this to say about Smoyer and the M26 Pershing tank crew after the battle at Paderborn:


          “We were so fortunate that the M26 was here with their 90 mm gun, manned by that veteran crew.  The Sherman would not have had any chance against the Panther.”

 “The worst thing is the German tanks would have had free access to that road, the houses, and that switching station.  We essentially were trapped there and they would have blown those buildings to pieces and killed all of us in there.”


Smoyer listens as Scullin reads from his detailed notes.
     “That tank gunner’s quick action (Smoyer) saved our whole damn company…over 100 infantry could have died there.”


Scullin went on, “In the name of France…I bestow upon you the insignia of Chevalier de la Legion d’Honneur.”



He then gave Clarence the traditional French two-cheek-kiss.




Clarence presented Scullin with an autographed copy of his book and a map of the 3rd Armored movements through France as a token of his appreciation to the government for France.
Scullin looks at the map Smoyer presented to him.
















Upon receiving the medal, when asked if he had anything to say, ever humble Clarence politely waved his hand.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The entire story and the book release has been a non-stop ride for Clarence.  Here he is in February of this year, all smiles, after a surprise Sherman tank ride around the block for a parade and ceremony at his neighborhood VFW.  Behind Clarence is another surviving member of the 3rd Armored Joe Caserta also depicted in Spearhead.


The car ride to Philadelphia brought out some new stories from Clarence. 



“For some reason “Big Mal” (James Mallet) loved to want to wrestle me.”


Mallet was the crew’s gunner from Normandy to about the battle at Mons, Belgium.  Clarence was Mal’s loader.


“The reason it was so odd to me was that I always could get him tangled up in my long legs,” Clarence went on.  “I guess Mal kept wanting another chance at me.”

Clarence Smoyer was born in Parryville, raised on
Bankway Lehighton, and went to 10th grade
before dropping out of school to work in a cabinet
shop where his two older brothers worked, to help
support their family.

But Big Mal had another strange way of handling the stress and the occasional boredom between fights. 


Big Mal and Homer "Smokey" Davis, another member of the Eagle tank, had a running competition.

They used to like to pretend to hold old fashioned duels with each other.  

Smokey used to have a German Luger tucked under his left arm in a shoulder holster along with his Government 1911 Colt .45 semi-auto on his right hip. 


Both Smokey and Mal would be sure to discharge their clips and clear the chamber of their army issued guns.  


Then they’d stand back to back and pace off the steps, turn and blank fire.  The rest of the crew would judge who they thought won.


Well for some reason, on this one particular occasion, just at the peak of the turn, instead of reaching for his hip, Smokey did a quick draw from under his arm.   

The crew stood and gapped when instead of hearing the light click of a firing pin into an empty chamber, they heard the crack of the Luger and saw Big Mal fall to the ground.  

Big Mal eventually recovered from a shot in the groin and returned to the crew. 
Clarence could not recall how they reported that one up the command.

It was around mid-August 1944 when Mallet was promoted to tank commander of another Sherman.  The crew had just finished an engagement at the Falaise Gap in France.  As Mallet left, unbeknownst to Clarence, he highly recommended Clarence the gunner’s job. 

Smoyer, Wong and Kesterman share a story after the ceremony.

As Clarence wrote back in 2010: “Being a gunner was considered a major promotion and normally would involve someone who had special training and the right temperament…In my case, I was completely unproven.”


Mallet said, “I taught Smoyer all he knows.” 


“Suddenly I was a gunner, even after I told him that I didn’t want to be,” Smoyer said.

The reason Mal had so much faith in Clarence is simple.  

Back on the English seacoast, the two shared a pup tent together.  One day they had a gunnery competition and the loaders got a chance to shoot against each other, in the event that they needed to jump in the gunner’s seat during battle.


The table-size targets were set on dunes 1,000 yards away.  “To everyone’s surprise, including my own, I hit the target all eight times and had the highest score.”





Of course Clarence proved himself again and again as an instinctual gunner.  He remembers Homer Davis telling him how little room he had under the tank that his nose scraped against the bottom while he laid on his back, trying desperately to re-enter the tank as it was pulling out under fire at Paderborn.  

The whole crew had to abandoned the tank after it was hit.  They eventually re-entered while under intense fire through the escape hatch below.  The driver began pulling out while Davis was still underneath, trying desperately to get in.



“I was from a German family and killing Germans did not appeal to me at the time.  I knew it was war and I would have to deal with that, but it was better to put off that hard reality.”


Anyone who talks to Clarence knows the man’s kind heart.  When I asked him if he ever hunted, he said he tried rabbit hunting, but never “really had the heart for it.”

Smoyer in 1938.

But he did tell me of his days playing around Heilman’s Dam on the Mahoning Creek.  He and his Bankway friends had built a hut from old wood from the ice house and the old munitions plant.  (Today this would be down the bank from the Boulevard Drive-In and the WWI munitions plant was behind Mahoning Court.)


He and his friends would shoot bullfrogs with their BB guns and cook the legs over an open fire.  Many times this was the only meat the boys had during those Depression years.


Clarence’s success as a gunner could be traced to those times.  For tankers, getting in the first shot was critical.  Seventy percent of tank duels were won by the tank getting off the first shot. 




It was instinctual for Clarence.  Not from the standpoint of killing but rather for protecting.  Clarence above all knew that the lives of the four other guys in his tank depended on him.  If he missed the first shot, the Germans would win the second.  If he didn’t see them first, they would get the first shot.  

He wanted to protect his war family and his sardine can on tracks that carried them in war.


As they penetrated into Germany, the tip of the Spear, the first American tanks to penetrate the “Fortress City” of Cologne, Clarence knew he simply could not miss, he told himself that repeatedly, “just don’t miss.”  It’s what made him so good.


Today, Clarence is only one of three men left surviving his old company.  Even his enemy and who eventually became a friend, Gustav Schaeffer, is gone.


Clarence saw too many of his close “family” from his unit die in combat.  Something he rarely likes to discuss now. 

 

Two young French interns who just joined the consulate
for the summer.  Betty Beraud in glasses set up the ceremony.
It was at Mons when his tank commander Paul Faircloth was killed.  Clarence’s Easy company was pinned down all day from mortar fire when one of their armored cars was hit.


Tank commander Faircloth instantly jumped from their tank to assist the men who were badly hurt and screaming.  

Just as Clarence stuck his head out the side of the tank, he witnessed two mortars explode beside his friend, blowing his foot and ankle off.  Two medics examined him.  They told Clarence Paul had died instantly.



Claence himself earned a Purple Heart, though he was wounded three separate times: by shrapnel, a bad burn, and a concussion that he still feels the effects from today.  In those days, the army did not recognize concussions as medal worthy injuries.

Clarence’s assistant gunner, John “Johnny Boy” Deriggi was wounded and sent home sometime after the battle of Cologne.  He passed away in October 2005. 


Although Phil Deriggi only survived his brother by a few months (January 2006 of lung cancer), he had the fortitude to create this web tribute to his brother “Johnny Boy” (http://www.phil-deriggi.com/john_1.htm).


You could say, Clarence’s story would have faded into obscurity had it not be for a number of happenstances.  We may have never known about the “Hero of Cologne” if it wasn’t for the army footage of his duel in front of the cathedral shot by Jim Bates of the signal corps.


It was after seeing that footage for the first time in the late 1980s that led Clarence to seek some resolution to a story he rarely spoke about. 


Then there was a young man, from a Lehighton family steeped in military tradition, named Pete Semanoff who sought out 30 Lehighton area WWII veterans to capture their stories for his Eagle Scout Project.  Clarence was one of those interviewed. 

At the time a Captain, Major Pete Semanoff
came back to his old school to address
the students on Memorial Day 2013.
For a story about how Pete and Clarence
met, click here.

When Semanoff went to college, he met and befriended the entire Makos family, another family steeped in military service.  It was on Pete’s prompting that led Makos to meet Clarence and write the best-selling book.


Then in 2008 Clarence found the radio operator in the German MK4 that Clarence disabled in Cologne.  He saw a German program featuring one of the two who escaped alive from the tank named Gustav Schaeffer.


The memory of his firefight with Schaeffer’s tank and the horror of perhaps firing the fatal shot that killed the civilian Katharina Esser haunted Clarence.


But when he met Gustav for the first time in person in front of the Cologne Cathedral, Clarence said, “The war is over, I guess we can be friends now.”  It was Gustav that made Clarence realize that neither of them killed Esser. 


It was the war and the war alone that did that.  The war made them enemies.  It was the war that called Gustav to defend the city and it was Clarence’s duty to take it to defeat the aggressor Germany.  Esser, a store clerk, and her boss had no reason to be there.  They should have known to continue to shelter in place, Gustav related.


But it was at Paderborn where Clarence really saved the day as previously mentioned by Buck Marsh.  For more on that, you must read Adam Makos’ Spearhead.


War takes away our nation's youth.  It took youthful Faircloth and so many others away from their families too soon.  
Eagle Tank Commander Paul Faircloth.

For Clarence, these men continue to live in his memories, forever in the youthfulness of long ago.

  

























Endnotes:


Major General Maurice Rose was the highest-ranking American officer killed in the war.  He was Clarence’s commander and was killed in an ambush on his way into Paderborn, just a mile away from Clarence who was not in position to do anything about it.  


The Semanoff’s are a military family.  Eldest Jack served in the Army after high school.  Allison is a doctor with the Army and graduated from West Point.  Major Pete Semanoff is stationed in Texas.  Their father, Gene Willard Semanoff served in minuteman missile silos in Montana during the Vietnam War for the Air Force. 


Gene Semanoff was named after his dad Joseph’s brother who was killed in WWII.  His middle name Willard came from his mother’s brother who received the Silver Star.  Willard was in the 94th Division.  He was killed following the breakout after being surrounded during the Battle of the Bulge, crossing the Siegfried Line.  He destroyed two machine gun nests with grenades and died attacking the third.


E5 Sergeant George “Gene” Semanoff died in Saipan with the 4th Marine Division.  He was killed on Saipan.  His body was brought to the Nesquehoning Orthodox Cemetery for re-interment in May 1948.


Gene’s father Joseph Semanoff was a member of 101stScreaming Eagles and was wounded in action.  Joe later became Carbon’s State Representative.


 

Willard Reabold's grave in Luxemborg.

May 1948 - George "Gene" Semanoff's body returns to Carbon
County for internment in Nesquehoning. 






Take Action - Lehighton Memorial Day 2019

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I would like to thank the UVO, both current and former, who continue to serve their country and their community (men like Charlie Uhler and Carlos Teets who are no longer with us)…to my Dad who survived Korea, now in the home, who used to help out…
USAF Major General Jay Barry holds the Navy service flag.  He accepted the Navy flag to have his fellow "flyboy" UVO member have the honors of the Air Force flag, though he would have been right to pull rank had he wanted to.

Though I never served, I grew up with a deep respect for men like these.  

I’d also like to thank the UVO’s generosity with donating funds to pay for the flowers the children will strew on the graves later.  They continued the work of the Operation Never Forget Club.  With any luck, I hope to get that club up and running once again.



Lehighton UVO salautes at Weissport Park
Services at Union Hill Cemetery - Steve Ebbert speaker
Honoring the Lost at Sea - Wreath into Lehigh River
Wreath Floats Away
"Faith of Our Fathers" - Lehighton Band + Lehighton Boys & Girls Band

 

~ Photo courtesy of Laura Foeller ~
Today is a glorious day.


We have the sun on our face, clouds to keep us cool, the wind at our backs, dew on our feet, and joy in our hearts.


We are here to remember those who paid for our freedom.

Your presence today is an action that shows your devotion.


They took action to secure our freedom. 

This is a day to refresh and renew. 

Let us take a fresh look upon a grave with renewed interest.


Let us take action to remember those who showed their love by giving their time and devotion.


Let’s make a mental picture of what devotion looks like:

Use your mind’s eye right now, remember what you see…

Mayor Ritter and the Poppy Queen enjoy the shade before the program began.

When you look at the Tomb of the Unknown,

When you look out at the rolling Hills of Arlington,

When you see the low country of Luxemburg, the sandy bluffs of Cambridge, and the beach front cemetery of Normandy,

When you cast your eye across the sea of white crosses, each one, representing its own story of devotion to our country. 


That is love.

 

Carol Kimmel Ritter shows me the aluminum
bracelet her father Bob made for members of
his family.  This one he made for his wife.  He
made a matching one for himself that he and
his wife wore.  The metal came from a
Japanese zero that crashed into Bob's destroyer
escort ship he served on during WWII.
Bob Kimmel and my Uncle Robert
Haas were the best of friends, having
coffee with each other everyday, several
times a day, like clockwork.  Carol
recently shared this story with me when I
visited with her and Mayor Ritter this week.
I was so glad she flagged me down to show
me such an important family memento.
I’d like to share a few stories about love and devotion.

I’d like to start with a few living and a few who have died securing the freedoms we love.


Let’s start with Major Pete Semanoff who is stationed in Texas.  He’s earned two bronze stars for tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.


But he took action as a young boy too.  He devoted himself to get to know Clarence Smoyer. 


And because of this, a book was written about Smoyer that is a national best-seller. 

Mayor Clark Ritter greets Clarence Smoyer, Lehighton native and subject
of Adam Makos book entitled Spearhead.

And now Smoyer’s story of love and devotion to country is known.


Pete’s Dad is Gene Willard Semanoff.


Gene is named after two uncles, both of them KIA during WWII.


Gene’s mother’s brother, Willard Reabold, of Hacklebernie, died in the Battle of the Bulge.


Gene’s father’sbrother, George “Gene,” was killed at Saipan while honoring his commitment to bring someone home.


That someone was Samuel Kutalek of Nesquehoning. 


Samuel Kutalek enlisted the very day Hitler invaded Poland, September 1st, 1939.  He was sent to the Philippines. 


He was captured. 
Sam Kutalek took action as soon
as he heard of Hitler's invasion of Poland.


And there he was marched at the point of a Japanese boynet, during the infamous Bataan Death March.  And unknown to his parents, he had survived.


But they did not know this. 


He was reported missing for over a year. 


When they learned he was alive, Sam’s brother Paul and his best friend, Gene Semanoff, vowed to join the Marines, find Kutalek, and bring him home.


Both men, Paul and Gene, died honoring their vow, while Sam Kutalek was released and lived a long and happy life.

 

18 September 1945 - The announcement of
Sam Kutalek's release and the deaths of his brother
and George "Gene" Semanoff.
Clarence Smoyer and Joseph “Yzush” Sitarchyk were friends as young boys. 


These children of the Depression had it rough. 


Sitarchyk’s father died when Joseph was just 11. 


Joe’s father died while trying to keep his family warm.  


He had a wooden cart he’d push through the scrap woods along the river and the RR tracks near North First St.  The news accounts of that week described the early November cold snap we were having.  Wood he’d gather to keep his family warm. 


And one day he was hit by a car and killed.

Joseph grew up in want. 


He’d sometimes steal a can of soup from the store just to have something to eat.  (And according to Clarence, Joseph was well acquainted with more trouble as he got older…)

18 November 1935 - The Great Depression
made many of our "Greatest Generation" tougher,
but Joe Sitarchyk had a rough start, his family losing
their father so many in the family.  The Sitrachyk name
had the family name Harvilla attached to the end of it.
Joe and his brother John Sitarchyk dropped that
part of their name, however the paper only printed
Harvilla.

Smoyer added meat to his diet by shooting bullfrogs with his BB gun and roasting their legs over a fire along the Mahoning Creek.  These tough times made tough men.


Joseph joined the Army Rangers and was dropped in at Anzio. 

In the ensuing battle at Cisterna, of the 1,200 men, only 9 escaped unwounded and uncaptured. 


Sitarchyk and five other men found refuge under a bridge and vowed to survive. 


They swore allegiance and famously signed a dollar bill together.


Many who survive such terrible ordeals live with memories that cannot be shaken.


Some take these memories into further actions to help others. 


By sharing his story, Smoyer has given us a look into the heart of a humble and devoted warrior. 

This is a picture of Joe Sitarchyk taken by Pete
Semanoff in his 30 interviews of area veterans
for his 1994 Eagle Scout Project.  We are lucky
Pete took the time to document their stories, otherwise
many of them would have been lost to time.  Joe
passed away in 2002.

Not one who wanted to kill for malice. 


But someone who killed to protect and defend his family he loved so dearly, the family who drove inside his sardine can on tracks. 


Smoyer was driven to perfection out of loyalty to them.


When Michael Wargo survived Afghanistan, he came home with many terrible memories he couldn’t shake. 


We are lucky to have men and women like these. 


They took action, they served, they fought, and too many died, securing our freedoms.


As a youth, Smoyer and his friends
had a hut near Heilman's Dam on
the Mahoning.  They'd shoot bullfrogs
with their BB guns and eat the frogs
legs over a campfire.

Nothing is free.
You have nothing that wasn’t first given to you.


We get, we give.

They gave all. 


What do you have to give?


Take action.  All of you.  You must.

Visit the Michael Wargo Memorial today and renew your sense of devotion to country and to those who are gone.


Renew your love and devotion for family, for country, for those brave men and women.


America must always have a giving heart filled with love and devotion.



Today is a Glorious Day.


We have the sun on our face, we have clouds to keep us cool, the wind at our backs, dew on our feet, and joy in our hearts.


We are here to remember those who paid for our freedom.

 

After the ceremonies, the UVO and the Lehighton Legion Post #314 host a free community lunch.  This is a vital
part of the day, where veterans can assemble and relate stories and friendship with each other.  Here WWII tank gunner Clarence Smoyer meets Larry Ahner of Lehighton who served in an Abrams tank and later, with the Guard, was assigned to high-valued prisoners in Iraq, including the supervision of our #1 prisoner there: Saddam Hussein.  Ahner had command and control of Hussein for many months in Iraq, holding him inside a prison cell we constructed in one of his palaces.  Ahner had daily contact with the despot, the "Butcher of Baghdad."

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This I found as a PowerPoint slide from a presentation someone posted on the internet.  I would really hope the person
who knows more about this story would contact me at my home email or on Facebook.  Joe Sitarchyk was from Lehighton.
I cannot determine more about this story and hope somehow someone could put us in touch with someone who does because this is an important human story that we in Lehighton would be fortunate to know more about.  Rabenold@ptd.net





Peter Sitarchyk Harvilla's death certificate from November 1935 -It was a colder than normal Great Depression November when Pete was killed pusing his firewood wagon on North First St in front of the old Jamestown Hotel that burned downed years ago.  Today it is a vacant lot.



100th Anniversary of American Legion Post #314

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19 September 1919 to 2019

Here you will find pictures that help tell American Legion Post #314's history.  Please check back again soon and the rest of the speech details and history will be uploaded.  For now, enjoy the pictures.
Miss Mary Kennedy of Mauch Chunk went
to France to find the man she'd marry
Frank Bayer of Lehighton.  Mary was among
the first 20 women in the U.S. to sign up
for the British Expeditiary Forces before
the U.S. formally entered.  She was an
operating room nurse and the only
femal member of Legion Post #314
Last Man Club.  She was Vice President
of the Club and its 10th member of 72 to die.



Frank Bayer Senior the day before
his wedding in France.  He was wounded
in the right arm and left leg at Muese-
Argonnein October 1918 after being
overseas for seven months. 
The Bayers had a well-known
paint and wallpaper business in Lehighton



























Legion Post Community Involvement - 

In August 1936 the Legion hosted a swimming carnival at Graver's Bathing Casino.  It included swimming races and a penny scramble.  They also held a "Bathing Beauty" contest.  The contest served as a qualifier for the Miss Anthracite Pageant which was a qualifier for the state pageant in Pittsburgh.  The state winner would go to Atlanitc City that September.  The local winners that year are pictured with Legion Commander Lee H. Hontz.

Nat Hyle's Orchestra played for the dance that night.  Lehighton swim winners: Ardith Ruth (1st - under 12, 30 yard), Ann Humphries (2nd - under 14, 30 yard), June Snyder (2nd - under 18, 30 yard and 2nd - open, 50 yard).  Diving was won by Minnie Hill and John VanHorn of Lehighton.  In boys diving it was Alton Kistler with 1st with a second for John Goldbach.  Russell Jones of Weissport (1st - under 12, 30 yard), Paul Miner (2nd - under 12, 30 yard), John Heller of Weissport (1st - under 14, 30 yard), Bill Humphries (2nd - under 14, 30 yard), Percy Slick (1st - under 18, 30 yard and 2nd - open, 50 yard), and Ernest Bowman (2nd - under 18, 30 yard).

The official starter was beloved Lehighton teacher Albert Dominico.  Judges were Marion Bock, Lewis Ginder (another Lehighton icon), and also Dominico. 
Evelyn Ripkey (who had a beauty shop in Lehighton for many
years) was crowned "Miss Carbon County," Hontz, Helen
Tyson "Miss Mahoning," and Betty Smith.  Not pictured
was Dorothy Beers crowned "Miss Lehighton."



Years before the Legion Home was complete, the first WWI First Man Club
Dinners were in the dining hall of Mrs. Cora Person's "New Fort Allen Hotel."
Cora was the mother of WWI veteran Wilbur Person, a well-known insurance
agent on First St Lehighton known for his framed Currier and Ives prints on
the walls.  Wilbur's son Wilbur was a veteran of the Vietnam Era and the
orignal office is still intact, run by grandson William Person today.

























The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.
Page 1 of the Last Mans Club of World War Two - 1948
D
avid Reiner of Parryville was painting a building on his
property when he fell off the ladder and broke his neck
becoming the LMC's first member to pass away in June 1948.
He was followed by Delphin Crowley (1950), Noel Gombert (1951),
Darryl Beisel (1951), James Koons (1953), and Geroge Setar (1954).
Born in 1927, Beisel was young for WWII.  After the war he graduated
from University of Maine as a Forester.  Working in the woods
of Quebec, he was crushed between a truck and a piece of logging
equipment.
Page 2 of the WWII Last Man CLub Prayer Service dating from 1948.
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.



Not surprising, the two page prayer service
above was stapled to a thin piece of color
card-stock advertizing Neuweiler's (of
Allentown) latest beer selections.



























The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.

Wounded one in Italy and twice in Germany, Charles Yenser of Mahoning
and Post #314 member was interviewed for Veterans Day 1999.
Eventually, Yenser rose to the rank of Colonel with the PA National Guard
and helped fete Major General Bert A. David at the Lehighton Elks in
1972.  The picture here is from the Morning Call article written by
DavidVenditta and can be viewed by clicking this link.

Yenser passed away three months later.  His son Denny was a
combat chopper pilot in Vietnam.
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.














Lloyd Arnold - WWI and WWII Veteran

Lloyd Arnold loved the radio.  He was a radio operator in France during the First War and in 1922 served as a radio specialist on a submarine and also during the Second War.  He was Lehighton's only member of both Last Mans Clubs and he was the third last survivor of the WWI club.  He passed away 15 November 1984 at the age of 86.  At his death, he was the oldest member out of 6,684 members of the U.S. Submarine Veterans Association.  He was the 70th of 72 members of the WWI club.
Lloyd Arnold worked the radio
in both WWI and WWII, serving
on a sub as early as 1922.















World War I - Last Mans Club 

The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.


12th Annual -World War I Last Mans Club Dinner - November 12th, 1949
One distinguishing visual between the WWI and WWII LMC was their uniforms.  The WWI club bought club uniforms early in their forming.  By the 12th annual here, many are also seen in civilian suits.  This dinner was held in Post #314's Dining Hall before the present day bar was constructed there.  You can see the current bathroom doors on the wall and distinctive support beams above.  Unfortunately George Harmon, second from right in fore ground, is the only verified person in this picture.  George was well known in town for his many civic contributions.  There were 55 members present and President Wilbur Person called the meeting to order at 6:48 PM.  The pledge of this WWI as well as the WWII meetings went as follows: "I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the country for which it stands, Our Last Man's Club to the end, With liberty and justice to all."  There are several slight differences between this and its current form.  "Under God, indivisible" were added in 1954.  It is not known why the clubs chose "and to the country" when all flag codes at that time were using "nation."  Continuing the tradition started at the New Fort Allen Hotel meals, the men ate a "delcious turkey dinner prepared by the staff of the American Legion."  This is the first LMC Dinner without its sole female member Mrs. Mary Kennedy Bayer.  The flowers were donated by the WWII LMC and the WWI club reciprocated for their December banquet.  It is certain that Lehighton's LMCs were rather rare.  The speaker this year was former state Legion Commander Charles S. Cook.  He said, "This is the first time I was ever a guest or present at a Last Man's Club meeting."   He was impressed with the meeting and in particular  the fireplace service when the glasses of the departed members are smashed.  Last Man Clarence Hahn sang "Face to Face" and "A Glad Prayer" which were "enjoyed by all."  The club made $22.31 profit from the 1948 banquet and earned $2.39 interest on their balance of $137.30.  It was noted that one person gave a $1.00 donation.  After spending $18 for the WWII LMC's flowers, the group had exactly $145 going forward. 
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.


Undated WWI LMC Dinner - Appears to be in the former dining room of Post #314 and is Pre-1948 for the fact that Bert B. David, center in civilian suit, died on 24 September 1948.  To his right is Wilbur Warner.  Standing behind Warner is Mahlon Kistler Sr.  And behind him looking off to his right is Frank Bayer Sr.  The doors behind the men look like the doors leading to the large dining room. 
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.
34th Annual Officers from 1971.  President Wilbur Person is left.  Even into 1971, with all the changes to the national pledge allegience in place as they are today, the LMCs still said the pledge as follows: "I Pledge Allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, And to the COUNTRY for which it stands, Our Last Man's Club to the end, with Liberty and Justice for all."  Last Man James G. Smith gave the Toast to the Dead, Last Man Raymond J. Rex gave the Toast to the Sick.  Last MAn Wilbur Person went to the fireplace and broke glasses for: Jay Dreisbach (7/22/70), Robert C. Semmel (7/7/70), and Mark Zellner (5/31/70).  Apparently the club recognized them from most recent to less.  LMC Chaplain was Raymond J. Rex, Secretary Arthur F. Everett, and Herman Lewis was Treasurer.  It appears Frank Bayer took over his wife's duties as Vice President.  As was the normal custom, the group closed with "God Bless America" and the members then held hands "forming a continuous chain" and sang two stanzas of Blest Be the Tie That Binds."  A list of all members present: George Acker, Leon B. Arner, Lloyd Arner, Charles Bauschpies, Frank Bayer, Al J. Evans, Charles Gerber, Arthur F. Everett, Clarence Hahn, Allen J. Fritch, Floyd Harleman, Mahlon Kistler, Floyd Kromer, Herman Lewis, Allen S. Mertz, Wilbur Person, William E. Reigel, Raymond J. Rex, James G. Smith, Raymond C. Smith, and Joseph Vanage.
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.
WWI LMC sometime in the 1950s - George Harmon is front center left facing the camera.  In  1947 he gave the toast to the living.  In the 1940s, he coached a youth baseball team for seven years.  He also helped pioneer the early days of Lehighton's famed Soap Box Derbies.  Originally from Delaware, born to a father who made a living as a "coachman," Harmon never left the states in WWI.  He served as a mechanic in the segregated 2nd Company of the 154th Development Battalionat Fort Meade, Maryland.  George was forever working on something both in his shoe repair shop or with the Fire Company or volunteering at the hospital.  He was once quoted saying, "The only time I don't work is when I'm lazy, and this isn't very often."  When it was his time to marry, the Legion Post hosted his wedding part after services were held on the second floor of Fire Co. No. 2.  His wife Sarah moved here from Philadelphia.  An active firefighter in his early years, Harmon spent the night of  the devastating fire of December 1955, directing emergency services via radio dispatch.  "It was a great experience.  The religion, color or creed of the man behind the desk didn't matter.  We all had a job and we did it."  He work around the clock and did not charge a single cent after the 1955 flood making nearly 100 pair of shoes for the victims in Weissport. In 1955, suffering from daibetes, Harmon became deathly sick and spent 30 days in the hospital he helped create.  Nearly destitute, the community came together (under the leadership of Wilbur Warner) to take care of Harmon's bills.  Sarah died in 1959 and George followed in 1960.  However, do not look for their graves.  "I'm giving my body after death for research is my way of squaring my debt."  Geroge's body went to Penn's medical school and Sarah's went to Jefferson's, both of Philadelphia.
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.
Lehighton's WWI Last Mans Club was enough of a
state-wide oddity for the Gettysburg Times to pick up
this Associated Press article describing how the bottle of
Cognac is stored in the safety deposit vault during the
year but retreived for each year's meeting.  The fact that
the club's purpose is explained in this detail shows
the club's regimen is rather rare.




How valuable was Harmon to his Fire Company?  Members paid
tribute to him in a 1950s Halloween parade to show just how many hats
he was willing to wear.  He kept the float sign as a fond reminder seen here
looking at it from an August 1958 Morning Call article on him.













































World War II - Last Mans Club - 


1st Annual Last Mans Club Dinner - December 7, 1946
At this point, no member of the club had passed away.


LAST CALL - This was the final letter urging any eligible members to join the Last Mans Club
of WWII.  Opening the membership was brought up at subsequent meetings but after the
deadline above, no new members were ever accepted as near as can be certain.

Marked "1947" which would make it the "2nd Annual - December 7, 1947"
However, the club didn't experienced its first loss until 29 June 1948.  David W. Reiner of Parryville broke his
neck from a fall from a ladder while painting a building at his home.  Therefore, this is probably either the 3rd  or 4th Annual in 1948 or 1949 by virtue of the "1" on the floral hanging on the mantle.  Since the photo below also has a "1" on it and is marked "1948," this photo could be from 1949. 

3rd Annual - December 7,1948
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.
"4th Annual - December 7, 1949" - It is marked "1949," however the is no discernable number on the wallhanging on the mantle.  If so, that could make this one 1947, the 2nd Annual.

The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.

4th Annual Dinner - December 7, 1949

George "Yix" I. LaRose, Secretary-Treasurer; Arthur Webb, First Vice President; Michael Markovitz, National Legion Rehabilitation Officer; Richard Evans, Toast to Living; Donald "Jack" Anthony, President (shaking hands with Markovitz); Edward Knappenberger, Toastmaster and Norman Benner, Toast to the Dead.  The portrait of William W. Shoemaker, the Post's WWI namesake, looks on from the back.  Markovitz urged the veterans to fight for "a fair adjusted compensation" in PA, with 4 million WWI and 18 million WWII veterans, "we have more power than we realize."  Lloyd Arnold was presented a gift from President Anthony for being the only member with dual membership in both the WWI and WWII Clubs.  By a standing vote of 67-50, a motion was defeated to open the membership up for one year.  NOTE - The #1 on the floral hanging on the wall signifies they had one departed comrade, David W. Reiner who fell off a ladder in 1948.


The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.

6th Annual - December 7, 1951 - This one appears to be marked correctly, as the club did lose four members by 1951: David Reiner (1948), Delphin Crowley (1950), Noel Gombert (1951), and Darryl Beisel (1951).


The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.

December 1949 - Markovitz, Evans, Anthony, and Benner.
7th Annual - December 7, 1952 
In a dark suit and light tie, middle of the bar, standing near the seated man with glasses
and bowtie is Atty Bill Bayer.
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.

8th Annual - December 7, 1953 - This is the last group picture of this club found in the binders assemled by
Past Commander ('82-'83) Carlos Teets around 2010. 
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.




In terms of 1953 buying power, the $2.50 would spend like $22.45 today.
Gas was 22 cents a gallon and a loaf of bread was 16 cents.  Average income
was $4,011 and the average house was $8,200.
The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.  

























The Lehighton Legion Post #314 turns 100 this 19 September.

Charles Shutt creates 'Tecumseh' + 5 Other Interesting Lehighton Legionaires

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You hear it at every home game at Lehighton for about 50 years.  It fires a 10-gauge blank shotgun shell and reverberates throughout the entire Mahoning Valley and all through town and across the river into Franklin Township.
A 1980 picture of Shutt with Tecumseh.



It was purchased by Lehighton’s Charles B. Shutt.  Shutt was a WWI veteran and former commander of Lehighton Legion Post #314.


Shutt became fatherless as a young boy of 10 years old.  His mother had to become a live-in house servant to the Begal family in Mahoning Valley. 

Less than 2 years before his death, Shutt was honored by Legion
Post #314.

Shutt first worked at the New Jersey Zinc company before he served at the end of the war.  In the 1920s he ran a confection shop on Second Street but later became an accountant for Bethlehem Steel Corporation. 


Perhaps it was his upbringing without a father, Charles Shutt did much to make sure the youth of Lehighton had help growing up. 


He was a local pioneer in developing Boy Scout Programs in the area, securing funding for the Troop 81 at All Saints Episcopal Church from James I. Blakslee.  He and his wife also ran the Lehighton Youth Center in the 1940s and 1950s.


As for Tecumseh, Shutt got the idea from attending an Army-Navy football game.  He purchased the cannon in the early 1960s for $15.  Lehighton football games wouldn’t be the same without the thunder from this gun.  Except for a short-time restriction by Principal Daniel I. Farren, the gun has not missed a game in over 50 years.


Shutt passed away in August 1985.  By then, Lehighton native “Slats” Wentz took hold of the rip cord.  In recent years the firing is conducted by former Lehighton Mayor Don Rehrig.


You can find dedicated volunteers in every town in America.  Lehighton is no different.  Recently, the following individuals were highlighted at the 100th Anniversary ceremony of Legion Post #314 in September.  These people dedicated their unique talent and energies toward making our town and country a better place.
March 1960





















Thomas Hamlet Hontz

He was a founding member of the Legion back in 1919.


Hontz married Lillian Shoemaker who was the kid sister of William W Shoemaker, the first Lehighton soldier killed in the first war (4 August 1918).

August 1936 Graver Bathing Casino -
Evelyn Ripkey (who had a beauty shop in Lehighton for many
years) was crowned "Miss Carbon County," Hontz, Helen
Tyson "Miss Mahoning," and Betty Smith.  Not pictured
was Dorothy Beers crowned "Miss Lehighton."

It was Hontz who first made the motion to rename the Legion post after Walter Haydt.  Haydt died when his B-24 Liberator was lost near Australia.


It was an altogether fitting tribute that Shoemaker’s brother-in-law would be the one to explain and encourage the name change of Post 314 to the Shoemaker-Haydt Post in memory of Walter Haydt.











Mary Kennedy Bayer


Not All Members of the Last Man’s Club Were MEN!


Mary Kennedy was from Mauch Chunk. 


She and was among the first 20 women from the States along with the first 100 from Canada to join the British Expeditionary Forces early in the war, a full year before the U.S. entered. 


Frank Bayer Sr from town was wounded in his left leg and right arm at Meuse-Argonne the last month of the war, his 7thover there.


Mary became his nurse.


They fell in love and married in France.


Mary and Frank joined the Last Mans Club (LMC) together.  She became VP of the club.  She was honored in the 1941 Armistice Day Parade.  And when she died in 1948, Frank Sr took over as VP.


Their son Frank Jr was a member of the WWII Club.  He died just a few years ago.


Frank Bayer Sr and William Shoemaker were among the first group of men sent off on 21 September 1917.



Lewis Dunbar

Lewis Dunbar started a confection store in the Lehighton Heights after WWI.  He was well known as a kind and cheery fellow and a friend to many.  He later achieved Lehighton immortality starting Dunbar Bottling, at one time where "Dance With Kim" is located at South Fourth St and currently along the bypass in Lehighton.

Lewie Dunbar's ad in the 1931 Lehighton yearbook.

But in 1935, national newspapers picked up on a story of Lewis serving in WWI while he attended the state Legion convention in Wilkes-Barre.  The headlines proclaimed him to be the “fattest WWI Legionnaire.”


At the time, Dunbar was only 63” tall, but 65" around!

Dunbar wanted to serve in WWI in the worst way.  But because of his short stature and large weight, he should have never been allowed in the military.  He stood only 5’3”...he was one inch to short to be drafted.


When WWI broke out, he was married and living in Ohio.

He wanted to join in the worst way.


But he was rejected at the recruiting station.


He didn’t give up.


He hung around DAY AFTER DAY...for WEEKS.


Finally, the commanding officer asked his staff who the fat man was hanging around the office.


When they told him, his story, he ordered them to sign him up. 

The reason?


Let me Quote: “His mirthful spirit and good humor” will do wonders for morale of the other men.


Lewie was fond of retelling how he walked around the first weeks of training camp at Fort Lee Virginia, without pants because the army had none with a big enough waist band.


But even though he was rounder than he was tall and should never have served, Dunbar did his part to serve his country.




4-Star General Bert A. David.

Founder Bert B. David also had a son named Bert.  Bert A. David became Major General Bert A. David.  Graduate of West Point, fought in Japan, fought in Korea, and 3 campaigns in Vietnam.  Silver Star. Legion of Merit with two oak clusters.  Bronze Star.  



Be sure to schedule a visit to Legion Post #314 to view the display cases in the entryway into the main hall.  David’s medals, pictures, and other information is on display.














George Harmon

If you can recall Bert B. David’s words on this Legion and his comrades being a tolerant group of men, one member of the WWI LMC was George Harmon.


George Harmon came here from Delaware and opened a shoemaker’s shop.  He instantly immersed himself in giving his time to civic duties.  Besides being an active Legionnaire, he was a firefighter, coached youth baseball for seven years, and along with Wilbur Warner, did everything he could to help get the Hospital up and running, and served in many volunteer capacities there.


When South First Street burned in December 1955, he stayed up all night working the dispatcher radio coordinating emergency services. 


And the 1955 flood of Weissport - He secured leather donations and worked around the clock making 100 pairs of shoes, for free, to help the victims.


And even though Harmon served with the segregated troops of WWI, he came to Lehighton to become one of our most integrated and selfless citizens.


His wife Sarah moved here from Philadelphia.  They married at Fire Company #2 and held their banquet at the Legion.  The entire WWI LMC was there.


And though never a rich man in money, even in death he kept giving.  Both he and his wife donated their bodies to Philadelphia Medical Colleges for research.





1950s WWI Last Man Dinner - George Hamon, front left of the picture, legs and arms crossed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wilbur Warner and Charles Shutt - January 1950


Wilbur Warner - This article does not mention one of Lehighton's greatest volunteer and civic leaders of all time.  His body of work is too large and needs his own story.  He was a WWI veteran and early leader of the Last Mans Club.  He was postmaster, spearheaded the construction of our new post office, borough hall, and Fire House #1.  He was instrumental in the creation of the Gnaden Huetten Hospital.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legion Menu from 1948:






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Lehighton's 1966 Centennial - in conjunction with Legion District Convention:

You can follow the unique parade route that the following pictures took, beginning and ending at the Legion Post #314.  You can read all the district Legion Posts and their number on the edge of the page.



























~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
National Legion Convention in Miami Florida October 1948 - My dad, Randy Rabenold, was a young Marine Corps recruit.  He was a member of the Marine Corps Band and they were called down to march in the parade.  In his letter, he wrote how they played "Hail to the Chief" for President Truman and his daughter.  He said Harry walked within 10 feet of him.



1980s UVO Color-guard - Randy Rabenold (sunglasses, left) and Porky Hunsicker, Sergeant at Arms, center.


The Genie Comes Out of the Bottle - A Brief History of our Local Pandemics

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From the report written by health professionals in Luzerne County in 1919:


“About all that could be done at the start was to adopt an attempt to enforce drastic regulations to minimize contagion...but even in view of these regulations, and when the plague had burst forth in all its widespread malignity, the country at large seemed slow to awaken to the enormity of the peril it faced.”


Tough decisions.  Sometimes in life they are tougher than they appear.  Denial often rears its ugly head in times like this.  Worse yet, false information and conspiracy theories.

Lifebuoy Soap Ad - 21 Nov 1918 -
Same advice holds true today.

Mary Rabenold was born near the “Pit” in Tamaqua.  Her parents were recent immigrants from Germany, they were butchers to the coal miners.  Her life was austere her entire life of 93 years.  She never owned a car, she made all her own clothes.

Her second daughter caught a bad cold in the early spring month of March 1917.  It was just a cold.  Then it entered a crisis stage, the cough more “croopy” for noted.  Shallow, labored breaths from an obstructed airway followed.  In a week they looked back upon this time as the “crisis.”

Sign of the Times 1917 - Quarantines were more common then.

She called Dr. W. K. Kistler to her home in the middle of the night.  He arrived and laid the three-year-old on the kitchen table, the same table I know use as my office desk.  The table I write this story to you now is that table.   


His advice was to open her airway with a tracheotomy.  But there was a strong chance of infection, she might not survive that procedure either.  It was a difficult choice.  They decided to wait one more night.


Little Helen Rabenold died.  Dr. Kistler died of pneumonia the following year during the Great Influenza Pandemic of 1918.


Like the quote my son Nate just reminded us about: “That men do not learn much from the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons that history has to teach.”  ~ Aldous Huxley


Use whatever metaphor you want, “the genie is out of the bottle,” “the horse has left the stable.”


It is spreading and we would all be better served to take a pound of cure here.  We cant make up for the time since it spread other than to socially isolate ourselves.  Here’s advice from the 1919 book on this subject: “Remember that it is easier to prevent an epidemic than it is to stop one when conditions become dangerous.”  If we are short sighted, we will experience many rebounds and outbreaks that will kill people and overwhelm our hospitals who are working as best they can.  “Let ‘Safety First’ be the motto of all people,” the book went on.


Three nurses died in the first week of October in Hazelton.  They called for all nurses in their third or fourth year of training to be released to work.  They asked for the nursing instructors to become active nurses again.


A desperate plea went out: “It is the sense of this meeting that all patriotic citizens will, in every case where possible so to do, release nurses from their private employ for the general good of the community.  It is their patriotic duty to do this during the present grave emergency.”


By October 1st, Wilkes-Barre rea had already closed public places like movie houses and bars, and made funerals private.  By October 5th there were more state health department mandates.  By Oct 8th, there were sixty new cases of it in one day in Wilkes Barre.  Miners were not reporting to work in droves, no one knowing for sure how many actually had the virus.
31 October 1918



The virus was wiping through army barracks both here in Ohio, Camp Colt in Gettysburg, and Camp Lee Virginia as well as overseas.  Newspapers were filled each day with deaths.  Yet on September 28th, on the very same page announcing the Liberty Bond Parade in Philadelphia, attended by 200,000, it listed the deaths of many of our service personal, a large number in transit in close quarters of naval ships.  Many in our area died, Hongen, Mertz, Rex...(trust me on that, I have names recorded somewhere!)
Servicemen were confined to close quarters, they had
among the highest rates of the disease - 11 Oct 1918
















Some reports said that whiskey was a good cure.  Prohibition had started.  I think it was wishful thinking.  You talk to old timers of the coal regions and they all tell you that their favorite drink ‘Boilo,’ made of Four Queens Whiskey (no cheaper whiskey known to man), orange peel, honey, cinnamon, was what staved off the illness back then.


"If sounds too good to be true..."
Wasn't mother's adivce always right?
October 1918 Minersville



Nevertheless, there were many newspapers of that time carrying the story of army barracks ordering cases of whiskey for their men.  A local doctor in Minersville disagreed with the cure.  Funny how people stake claims and believe them so easily.  Why do so many prefer to believe anecdotal information and conspiracy theories when science says otherwise?
 

The husband and wife this week took aquarium cleaner in a small dose because it contained the chemical chloroquine because people have been promoting it as an anti-coronavirus.  Our own President adds to this by over-stating these ideas in his press conferences.  The scientists and doctors try to correct this but again, back to the metaphor of the genie in the lamp or the horse and the stable, once it’s out, its hard to rein back in.  Then people die.  The wife is in critical condition.


Once these little lifeless bodies get out into hosts (us) their job is to replicate.


Viruses are an odd mix of “life.”  Unlike bacteria, a virus can only reproduce in a host.  They are really good at living in our nasal passages and upper respiratory tract, a common cold.  Some, the particularly deadly ones, like to live deep in your lungs.  This COVID-19 likes both.  It thrives on the protein of the host and can replicate itself by hijacking the cells of your airway and can multiply rapidly, waiting for you to sneeze or cough or spit out, to spray it so that it can find another host.  And so on.


There have been other pandemics that were tough: The H1N1 virus in 1951 and 1957.  There was another in 1968 and up until more recent times H1N1 swine flu of 2009, and now today.


What makes today so remarkable is the longer it takes for symptoms to surface and the number of people who are asymptomatic, meaning, they aren’t showing any signs of the disease.  Dr. Deborah Birx took her temperature every day, and noticed a slight increase of Sunday.  She self-quarantined and she turned out to be fine.  Where has Dr. Tony Fauci been the last few days?  He’s been the governments lead epidemiologist since 1984.  I hope he is well.


I found a book written in the immediate aftermath of the 1918 Pandemic, “The Spanish Influenza Pandemic of 1918: An Account of its Ravages in Luzerne County, Pennsylvania, and the Efforts to Combat and Subdue it.”  It was dedicated to the brave men and women, nurses and doctors, who risked and sometimes gave their lives in their care of the suffering.


Let’s take a quick look at the history of some scary times in this country.


Look at the cholera epidemic that hit Lehighton and Mauch Chunk (Jim Thorpe) in August to October in 1854.

Mauch Chunk Gazette ~ 27 July 1854


It was the year Asa Packer was building his railroad.  It was spreading from Baltimore and Philadelphia.  Then Easton got it.  Then as was noted in the time it “followed the path of commerce.”  So the Lehigh Canal, the work being done to build Packer’s Railroad was that path. 


Much had been written that we were “above the Cholera line.”  That the fresh air and cooler climate of our mountains would protect us, an image I can relate to my youth.  People still had that idea that we were remote and removed from things, certainly that could not come here.


But it did.  It broke out in a boardinghouse where the “lower classes” stayed in Mauch Chunk.  The disease, once one person became infected could be passed in the germs from their mouths and also from their urine and stool.  So water wells suspectable to bad sanitation could become a source.  The affluent of Mauch Chunk had the luxary of their own water supplies, they did not need the public pump that became the epicenter for the spread.


It didn’t take long for the people around here to pick up on that.  Their scapegoat had arrived: It was brought here by “foreigners,” most likely those employed constructing Packer’s railroad.  I refer you once again to the quote about history and not learning from it. 

27 July 1854 - Mauch Chunk Gazette - A common
scapegoat even in today's times.  The affluent had
their own water supplies, so it spread among those
living in boarding houses, often times recent
foriegn immigrants.

There is evidence of this same type of blaming going on today.  Let’s promise to recognize it and call it what it is, racism.  And let’s not tolerate it.  It is something we can avoid, but sad how it keeps rearing its ugly head like a bad weed.


Mauch Chunk had three doctors.  Two of them died of cholera before it was over.  Two more came here, young doctors in the twenties, brothers Linderman.  Garrett ended up marrying Asa and Sarah Minerva Blaksee’s least known daughter Lucy (she died shortly after marrying in an accident odd a horse.).



So you could say, Carbon County had its own version of Love in the Time of Cholera, a great book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (though my favorite book of all-time is his One Hundred Years of Solitude, which this social distancing we are currently in seems also quite akin to.).  For a deep look at that Cholera crisis and to learn about Dr. Snow who discovered the “Broad Street Pump” as the source of it in London read this blog post I wrote in 2013. 


Dr. Snow’s work was revolutionary.  It is the basis of all epidemiologist work used today.


Typhoid.  It was also a killer.  Spread much the same as typhoid.  It could be spread person to person like today’s COVD-19 but also in their feces.  It got into wells.  It came from milk.  It was nasty.  It killed my Great Uncle Garrett Rabenold when he was just 14 in October 1905.  Rev. Kuder buried him.  Rev. Kuder’s son later became a doctor.  As part of his training he came to Lehighton in 1917 and did a sanitation study and published it in a book.  I did a post on that which included many one of a kind pictures of what Lehighton looked like just months before the Great Influenza Pandemic hit in 1918.



My great uncle Garrett was the same age as the young Dr. Kuder.  They attended the same church, perhaps the same confirmation class.  I wonder if Garrett’s death impacted Dr. Kuder to do the work he did?  Here is a link to that story on Dr. Kuder, whose son also became a doctor.  Both doctor Kuder’s served in mobile military hospitals in WWII.  I was fortunate to interview Dr. Kuder II beforehe died.  (I’m always fascinated about howmany places and people my search for the truth in history has taken me.)


In January 1907, Lehighton’s own Dr. Horn was seriously ill with typhoid fever.  People could suffer with a fever for one to two months!  In February 1907, the U.S. battleship left Puerto Rico.  By the time it hit the Bahamas, thirty-one on board were in critical condition with it.  They anchored in New York City where it was placed under quarantine.


In September 1912 a typhoid epidemic broke out in Bethlehem tied to milk.  Many were serious, some died in just a few days. 


Dr. Horn survived his ordeal.  So did many others, like Giant’s catcher Al DeVomer in July 1924.  By the 1920s, motor touring had become rather popular.  But in July 1927 motorists were advised to stay away from Montreal with 5,000 people sick and at least 300 deaths there due to typhoid.  The advise said to perhaps avoid the city for a year or more.


Of course, there was Typhoid Mary Mallon, the Irish cook in New York City.  She was an asymptomatic carrier of the disease.  In 1900, she cooked for seven different affluent families.  Within about two weeks of her arrival, the families got violently and deathly ill.


She moved on to Manhattan, 1901.  The family developed fevers and diarrhea.  The hired laundry woman died of it.  Then she moved to a lawyer family where seven of the eight became ill.  She moved on.


This went on and on until one family hired an epidemic researcher to track down where it came from and they found Mary.  They quarantined her on North Brother Island New York.  She refused to give stool or urine samples.  She refused to have her gallbladder removed because doctors believed that’s where the bacteria that caused typhoid lived, even in those days.   If she would have submitted to this treatment, she would have been freed of the contagion.  But she didn’t.


She was released in 1910 under the promise of never cooking again.  She sought work as a laundress.  But the lure of more money to cook overtook her and she was soon infecting people again.  She was quarantined again to the island in 1915 where she stayed until she died in 1938.  Again, a simple gallbladder removal would have been an easy fix.  She refused.


Nobody wants to be known as a typhoid Mary.  So let’s listen to the scientists.  What’s do what science tells us is the course we must go by.  Stay positive, stay healthy, keep the faith.


There’s much to be learned from the 1918 pandemic.  They set up many emergency hospitals in armories and school buildings.  And since churches were not supposed to be open sometimes churches were used, taking doors off hinges and laying them across the pews as beds.


They formed canteens in church kitchens to make soup and broth to be delivered to the sick.  Wilkes-Barre was a hot spot for it and so were the coal regions in general, where so many men worked in close contact with each other.


It even struck in the “Silent North” of Labrador where there’s nothing of civilization among the Inuit population there, where they said even canned milk was a luxary, where candy was hardly ever seen.  And without a doctor or nurse of any kind, these entire communities of seventeen to thirty people were wiped out by the disease, in one case where just one person survived them all.


On the Luzerne County report, by the first week of October, six deaths occured around Catawissa, near Bloomsburg.  Even though the schools were closed and they were converting them into emergency hospitals, overall, people were not heeding the advice of the health departments, they were ignoring science.  

As Dr. Arment of Catawissa said the situation is bad,"Schools are closed, yet the saloons in Centrailia were wide open, doing business as usual."  


Dr. Arment was spot on then, he's spot on now.   


No one is immune to all viruses.  No one is super human.  We are all mortal.


Let’s choice what science says.  Let’s stay focused, let’s keep our eye on the ball, our eye on the prize.  Let’s stick together, like Ben Franklin’s snake, Unite or Die never had a more apropos meaning.



~~~TO SEE MORE MANY MORE ARTICLES FROM 1918, CLICK THE ABOVE LINK~~~


Sensational Happiness - Top Down, Bottom Up

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I hope these pictures will make do for now until I can write up an article that explains them and the unique title for this post.  This is a companion post for the Lehighton Magazine Podcast from 10 August 2020 - History Night with Ron Rabenold.

Please check back here for more story as well as additional pictures soon (The only hold up is working through a process of some other writing I'm doing right now.  I hope the delay will be worth it.  "Creation is soul-searching, nothing is ever finished" (C. Ruggles) - This is my philosophical mantra for many areas in my life and I hope you can appreciate that I feel it's ok to simply start things sometimes and allow yourself the patience to dream the end.  

This post is some sort of creation.  

It could be so more, couldn't it?  

And so are the many other creative outlets of our lives.  I am comfortable with works in progress.  I know I have the tenacity to finish them.  All good things in all good time.

We must dedicate ourselves to "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness."


Weissport bridge late 1930s.

 
"Wm. Hicks" was best known for his "Last Supper" paintings he did all winter long to help make ends meet while he boarded at Harry Berger's Hotel.  It's been said that half the homes of Albrightsville had one hanging in their kitchens, however I've yet to see one myself.
Hicks also enjoyed carving and small handcrafts.  He was known for his odd common-man philosophy and adages.  Once the Getz family took him in for a few weeks one winter, and old Arsula Christman Getz, Charlie Getz's grandmother noticed Hicks walk up the stairs backward.  When he came back down, the normal way, she asked him why he walked up backward.  Hicks said, "Well that way I wont have to turn around when I get up there, of course."

One-eyed William "Hicks" Bergenstock -
Originally from Allentown, most never knew his last name. 
A loving, musical family of older sisters and their mother who performed together for birthday celebrations and the like, but also a temperamental alcoholic, father who ended his life in suicide.  Hicks lived a life of solitude, hand to mouth doing paint and wallpaper work around Albrightsville most of his adult life.





Foot Bridge over the Delaware near Tinsman Lumber and Lumberton - Once was spanned by a wooden covered bridge, destroyed in 1903 flood.

A colorful history - Even during Prohibition when up to 70 workers still did shift work there.  In 1926 Federal Dry Agent Roy Edens single-handedly conducted a night-time raid of the brewery in Easton, was allegedly offered a $3,000 bribe he refused, later became of the Federal overseer of the plant, then arrested himself for producing and selling beer from the plant.  Lost his federal job because he could not read or write to pass the newly imposed civil service test, so he went back home to Butler, PA, and was arrested again as a "rum-runner."  Then the story gets sad.



Ascension of Christ by "Wm. Hicks" - St. Paul's Church - Albrightsville.  Hicks like to toy with the congregation by painting subtle little hidden pictures in this painting as it developed from week to week.


This is an unknown man from Jonas Hotel.  This picture gives the physical inspiration for Joseph Gambler's character in my book.  Gambler actually lived in the Albrightsville area.  He was a survivor the Great Fire of 1875 (May).  The fire swept Hickory Run to Hell Hollow, Wild Creek Area.



The Harry Berger Hotel of Albrightsville, as interpreted by "Wm. Hicks" - This mural appeared behind the tap room bar.

Poet Blake Lively of New Orleans makes a cameo appearance in 
"Kinglets in the Winterberry" - Mardis Gras 2020.


 Ervin and Mamie (Strohl) Ahner - at the Weigh Lock around 1917 - 
with (l-r) Esther, Dorothy,  Mamie.  Esther lived to be 106, passing away in 2016.  The last living person who lived on the canal.  A video was produced about her life on the canal, among other things.  A featured part of the segment featured her dancing at age 104.

Mamie Strohl Ahner with gun right.  During WWI, soldiers were
stationed at the weight lock to protect our industrial might during the war.



1936 Weissport Flood





Rickert Beer Recipe - Sent from a friend, perhaps Fred Horlacher.

The Dilldown Dam - Photo by John B. Stoj of Albrightsville - The Hickory Run area had many man-made dams to power the sawmills and to store logs.  The terrible and tragic flood of October 1849 that took so many lives, including the Gould family who owned the timbering company.  Their house was knocked off its foundations and tumbled under water for 500 feet.  Enough air remained inside for some of the occupants to survive.  The blacksmith West lost his wife, two girls, and two boys.  Some of his children survived.


Schnupty of Allentown - Probably not the 1890s "Jack the Hugger" of Allentown.
Guard Lock of Lehigh Canal - Lehigh Valley RR station to right - Jersey Central (center - beyond the 
foot bridge) - Dam and Harbor supported the loading of canal boats from chutes off that once came off the mountainside above left (until 1872) - Boats could also be loaded to float upstream to Lock #1 of the Upper Grand Canal that traced the Lehigh on up to White Haven.  That canal system was ruined in the June 1862 flood of the Lehigh River.  Several hundred lives were believed to be lost.  The village of Burlington (East Packerton along the river) was wiped out.  Making way for the LVRR to take control of the land and build their Packerton Yard there.




Lehighton's Brights Department Store display window 1955.  Brights's original store started and continued to run in Lansford.

Lehighton Fireworks as seen over the Lehigh's waters from the outskirts of Rickertsville 2019.

Packerton Post Office - Along the RR tracks - Post June 1862 Flood.  This was the former village of Burlington.  The new area now aptly named for the progenitor of the LVRR, Asa Packer. 

Snowy winter view of Lehighton as seen from Fifth and Coal Streets looking SE from second floor of Haas Store - 1940s.


Charles Snyder on the day they sold his family hotel to the Held family.

A younger, Charles Snyder at Hotel Jonas.

Morris Desch, a friend of John Bitterling of Allentown, did extensive hunting in Hickory Run area.


Mauch Chunk Brook Trout Company - Penn Forest 1917.

Unknown women imbibers at Hotel Jonas - "Woman with the Clay Pipe."


A Couple Drink Sips -
Up until 1986, if you got a glass of water at Hotel Jonas,
this is where you water came from.

Charles and John Snyder, sons of Jonas Snyder - The inspiration behind the characters of Charles & Jonas Reise - Brains and Brawn.  

Jonas Snyder & family- Front Center with animal on lap - c. 1890s.

Arthur and Charlie Meckes with Eddie Holtzman Hotel Jonas 1950s.

A dentist, Randy Starr, wrote the song "Green Door" for Elvis in the 1960s with a Held family relative.

Charles Snyder with pitch pines and forest fire gear - Younger, top, older, bottom.



Abraham Ahner of Long Run 1930s.

Abraham Ahner and sons - Not only does this picture suggest they ran moonshine, but...

Long Run Ahner girl with chickens.
William "Hicks" Bergenstock's simple grave at St. Paul's in Albrightsville - He bartered the plot for
the painting of Christ's Ascension.

"An Innocent Soul Sent to Eternity"
"Quilly" Henning's grave at the Old Albrightsville Cemetery at Henning and Old Stage Coach Roads - The Wenz Monument Company of Allentown took sympathy for the Henning saga from the sensational trial that ensued from the killing of Quilly (seen here, full body left, looking right) as the central character is the villain, the one-armed school teacher and part-time game warden Wilkinson, along with a cast of characters lurking in the woods, some of the human faces look like dogs.  The fight occurred over the shooting of a Henning dog.

Wilkinson was a principal in lower Carbon
County Schools.  He lost his arm in his
youth.  He is buried at Big Creek.

Chain Bridge, Lehigh Gap -(1826-1926)

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 First built in 1826, the bridge remains we currently see are now nearly 200 years old.

The Chain Bridge as seen after the May 1926 fire.  Some at the time suspected arson, or sparks from a steam engine, or faulty wiring.  No cause was ever found.  The cement roadway was being built at the time, and neither fire department from Slatington nor Palmerton could reach it.  A bridge was proposed to replace it to connect to this new roadway at a cost of one-half a million dollars.  The new roadway became useless without the bridge.  It was rebuilt for about 4 years and then the concrete and steel bridge was built.  H. T. Craig was the last president of the toll bridge company.  At the time, the bridge was said to be only one of two of its kind in the entire world (the other in Switzerland).  Craig lived in the toll house on the eastern bank until the 1950s and was bank president.  The bridge was operated as a business and for the longest time it didn't even collect enough to pay the toll taker.  Then with the advent of the car, the bridge saw increased revenue.  The weight could support about 6 tons, but the "rating" of the bridge was determined by "head of cattle."  That number I cannot find.


Fire destroyed it in 1926.  The iron used for it was said to be a marvel in its time.  Each link weighed about 130 pounds, and showed no signs of rust.  Where the links touched, the metal was highly polished from the wear.

There were a series of iron ore furnaces in the area, including one at Harrity (in the flat plane on the northern side of Big Creek, between where the old Reber House stood, and present day "Platz's Restaurant."  Some said the Reber home was built as a home for the original managers of the furnace and the subsequent hotel that is now Platz's was built to accommodate the trade brought about originally due to the industry.  Another iron works was in the Lehigh Gap area.  These of course were forerunners to the Carbon Iron Works, which was a precursor to the Bethlehem Steel plant further down river.)  Of course the iron industry followed the river from the coal mines down through the slate belt to the limestone and cement belts.  These areas were also connected by the "Inter-Urban Trolley" that once flourished just before the advent of the car.

Folks quoted who remembered driving over the chain bridge said it was a test of faith.  If you've ever walked across a suspension bridge you will recognize the sensation.  (My wife and I were fortunate to walk a foot bridge over the Giant's Causeway in Ireland.  I watched many people lose their nerve in walking over it, with how it dipped and swayed in the wind.  The chain-bridge was said to do all these things, taking you within 20 feet of the Lehigh's waters, it was rather fluid in its movements under the rolling weight of carts, wagons, and cars.)

To see and touch this history today, venture along the river seen here and also the corner of the park in Palmerton at Delaware Avenue, at the southeastern corner, there's a monument constructed to its place in history that includes actual links from the bridge.

I do have more research to post about this story but time restraints and other projects prohibit me from writing more at this time.  I hope to give this further study soon.  But as for now, enjoy these pictures and etc. 

Opposite view as above.  Nearly 200 years later, we can still see the tollhouse from the boat launch from the western shore beneath the new bridge that replaced the chain bridge.  Note the foundations to the two mid-river piers are still intact as "islands" on the river.  (Current view, April 2021).



December 1933 article.

December 1933 article.

December 1933 article.

From Ralph Kreamer Feb 1953 article.

From Ralph Kreamer Feb 1953 article.

From Ralph Kreamer Feb 1953 article - Hector Tyndale Craig (17 Oct 1873 - 9 November 1955) - 
Craig had once sued (April 1898) the borough for injuries he received in October 1896 that caused him injuries that prevented him from "working as he once could."  At the time, there was a steam-pipe from Henry Fulmer's slate quarry ran under the road outside Slatington near Lehigh Gap and was "fastened to a prop of an overhead bridge."  It discharges steam at just four feet away at a narrow part of the road.  It spooked his team of horses, both he and his lady friend Miss Shoening were setting out for the Nazareth Fair and were thrown from the carriage.  She was not as injured at H.T.  Twenty-one witnesses were called.


This monument to the chain bridge is still intact in Palmerton, at the southeastern corner of the park on Delaware Avenue.  You can still see the rough textures of the metal where it was hand-forged and shaped nearly 200 years ago.  And this should stand as a testament to our area's contribution to the iron-steel industry world-wide.  Kreamer Feb 1953.

The John Ziegenfuss boat yard.  (These articles have been sitting in a file to be posted here for a number of years.  And due to me being away from this project as long as I have, I regret to know why I have this picture here but including it anyway.)

Amazing to me: The great work Ralph Kreamer did for local history started back into the 1950s and went all the way up to this one in 1992.  I was not a good acquaintance of him in life, but however he did leave a number of files to a friend with instructions "to put them into the hands of someone who will carry it on."  And I'm proud to say I was given several of those files.  Thanks Ralph!  Ralph had an active life and shared his numerous talents in a large variety of ways.  A good life. He passed at 92 back in October 2020.

May 1926 article.

September 1937: One of Lehighton's oldest residents at the time, she was enjoying good health at 
92 years of age.  She was born 22 September 1845 in Franklin township to James and Sarah Conner who operated a farm near what is known as "Maria Furnace."  Notice how in 1937, the mention of Maria Furnace was in quotations.  This is a small indictor of the relative obscurity of what was known of this landmark industry.  When Sheriff Reber lived at the home (now torn down), there were large fields behind the home (up to where the new St. Luke's hospital is being constructed) and down to the flat meadow where the Big Creek travels through.  There was even a tunnel that ran under the road and into the basement of the home - See YouTube video.) (Also the ancient Reber garden vines and forsythia that had taken over the entire yard).

I do hope to expand on this story in the future, but until then, I hope this information is helpful to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a quick comparison, and as a point of personal privilege, I present here some pictures from our Ireland trip in October 2019:


Originally built by fishermen back in the day, to get from the mainland out to the broken-off piece of land.  It's about 65 feet long and about 100 feet above a really rough sea.  The wind whips through nearly constantly.  It is a test of faith to walk it.

A toll-worker ensures the bridge does not excede the weight requirement and that no one fools around.




 



The Led Zep album "House of the Holy" album cover was shot here.  Giant's Causeway, Ireland.







The Lessons in Remembering - Memorial Day 2021

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The grave of Peter Nothstein at Normal Square.  The UVO has a long tradition of saluting his grave each year.  He was part of Sullivan's 200 at the Battle of Long Island who were trapped by the Hessians who were under order not to take prisoners.  Nothstein served the entire Revolutionary War.  Click the photo to watch and listen to the 21-gun salute and taps over his grave.

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INTRO & THANKS –

 

Henry and Kevin Long - What would
our town be like without them?

Thank you for being here today.

Thank you for keeping this tradition of keeping the memory of our Veterans alive.

 

I’d like to specifically thank all the veterans here among us now, including those in the color guard for their time and efforts in attending to these programs,

and from their countless tasks of serving our community,

from serving at the funerals of our departed,

for bearing the cold of December for Wreaths Across America,

for ensuring every veteran’s grave is decorated with a flag,

and all the countless other tasks you do. 

 

A cold day in December 2020- Our
UVO taking part in
Wreaths Across America.

You are ever faithful in answering our community’s every need.

 Henry Long - We miss you this year.  Godspeed in your recovery.  We look forward to hearing your trumpet again very soon.

 








Members of the Lehighton UVO Color Guard at Lehighton Area Middle School - May 2013:
Glenn "Smokey" Troutman, my Dad, the original Double R, Randy Rabenold, forever with a trumpet under his arm, Henry Long, and members of the military storied Semanoff family, Major Pete Semanoff and father Gene. 


INTRO –

Who are you thinking about this Memorial Day Weekend?  

Whose story lives within you?


 

I have several stories to share with you today. 

I encourage you to do some further reading of these veterans by finding their stories on my blog.

 

We can all agree, our AMVETS Hometown Hero Banners enhance our town.

 



Please scroll to the end of this post to find many more examples of Hometown Hero Banners.  If you would like to have one place, please contact the American Legion Home Post #314.  You may also email me and I can assist you in making the application.


Each banner contains its own compelling story.

 

These stories are filled with conflict and joy,

with sorrow and sacrifice,

with friendship and grief,  

loyalty and survival.

 

We can learn so much. 

 

 

This is a tough year for me. 

 

It is the first Memorial Day since my father’s passing.

I’m grateful for this opportunity to speak to you about some personal memories that play in a perpetual loop in my memory.

 

 

 

When we were young, my cousins and I grew up in the shadow of our Uncle Ezra Kreiss who was killed in the English Channel in the build up to D-Day

His absence created such a void in everyone’s life. 

 

Though it was the week of Memorial Day and though all these are Americans who gave their all
in WWII buried here in Cambridge England, only Kreiss's grave was marked by flowers that 
day in 2015.  His decorated grave was easy for his niece Lt. Col Kathy Haas to spot.

The Lehighton Area Middle School
Operation Never Forget Club placed 
these flowers on Ezra Kreiss's 
grave in Cambridge England,
Spring 2015.

Years ago, the Operation Never Forget Club placed flowers on Uncle Ezzie’s grave at Cambridge Cemetery in the U.K.

 

By chance, my cousin, Kathy Haas, a retired Lt Col in the Air Force, was doing Port Security work in England that same week and had the chance to stop by Uncle Ezzie’s grave. 

 

She’d never been there before. 

But when she saw that just one grave in the whole cemetery had flowers on it, she knew it was Uncle Ezzie’s grave.

Lt. Col. Kathy Haas's father Robert 
at Ezra Kreiss's grave while with
the Navy in the early 1950s.



My tough Lt Col cousin, Kathy Haas, fell to her knees, and wept.

 

Veterans understand the sacrifices given by those who came before us.

 

 



If you were lucky enough to know Chester Mertz you will understand this.

 

Chester Mertz - Tending to his parent's grave - St John's,
Mahoning Valley - June 2011.

He was helping me write his story.

Over several weeks of visits and interviews it developed into a most compelling one. 

 

Upon reading the final draft, he handed it back to me and said:

“Well done.  I’ve enjoyed it. 

But now do one more thing.  Shred it up and share it with no one.”   

 

A lesson in humility.

Veterans can be the humblest people you will ever meet.

 

 

I didn’t know Walter Haydt. 

The Shoemaker-Haydt Post #314 is named in honor of his death in his B-24 Liberator known as the“Texas Terror.”

The picture Walter sent home to his
daughter Janice.
 
Janice Haydt Gover and her father's hat.



I did know Walter’s brother Ray. 

They said those two brothers had the same laugh. 

I met Walter’s daughter Janice. 

She has her father’s hat to remember him by. 

But when you see Janice, it easy to see how she also carries her father’s exact same smile.   

 

This I know for certain: Sharing a smile, sharing a kind word, or a laugh, always goes a long way.

 

 

Ira Smith lost his family farm after his father died, because his older half-brothers wanted to cash out the farm.

Ira F. Smith grew up on the farm of 
his father Jonathan Smith in the
Kistler Valley.  By the age of 17
he was living in a neighbor's hay loft
working for room and board.


Ira fought at the Battle of the Bulge.  He was shot in the wrist.

He was taken prisoner and bombed by the Allies.

He fell three stories through a warehouse where they were keeping him, and broke his back. 

He suffered through his injuries for a year at the notorious Stalag 12A, and spent an additional year recovering from his injuries at Valley Forge after the war.

 

Ira F. Smith as pictured in the May 1945 book
"Pictures of the War."

Ira Smith (Dec 1919-May 2011)
& Rabenold at his home in 2010. 


But he did not come home a bitter man. 

When all those older brothers, who sold the family farm, needed help in their old age, it was Ira who went each day to bathe them, to give them a shave. 

 

Now there’s a lesson in humanity, in forgiveness and compassion.

 


Yesterday, the UVO saluted the grave of my grandmother’s great-great grandfather PeterNothstein

He served the entire Revolutionary War.

He was among the 200 of Sullivan’s troops who were trapped by the Hessians on Long Island early in the war. 

The Hessians were taking no prisoners alive. 

So, he swam the entire Long Island Sound with his musket strapped to his back.

 

There are some Veterans who were compelled to do superhuman things to survive.

  

A few years ago, we honored Clarence Smoyer at the Elem Center. 

The UVO Color Guard surprised him and Vietnam Vet Wayne Wentz announced Smoyer would receive his HS diploma

The long overdue awarding of the Bronze Star with Valor at a special dedication at the WWII Memorial in Washington DC.  Cpl. Smoyer receives the medal from Major Pete Semanoff.  Semanoff as a boy helped ferret out Smoyer's story that led to the book Spearhead.  Semanoff, along with Sgt. Major Dan Dailey of Palmerton, along with aide to Secretary of the Army Kenneth Wong made sure Smoyer finally got this medal, 18 Sept 2019.

(Read how Smoyer received France's highest honor, the Medaille de la Legion d'Honneur in May 2019.)

And this week, Smoyer will once again be going back to the Reading WWII Weekend. 

Once again, he will hear the sounds of that time, when the Andrews Sisters once sang and Tommy Dorsey once played.

Smoyer signing books at Reading WWII
Weekend June 2019, with lipstick marks to
prove he was reliving his days of youth.

At night, in the hanger, the reenactors will come, dressed to the nines, and they will start to swing.


A smile will come to Smoyer’s face, his foot will tap and his knee will bounce.

All of it, like a dream.

 

The war required that Cpl. Smoyer to do cruel things to our enemy. 

Smoyer watched many young soldiers die.

 


Before he ever met his wife Melba, as the war wound down, Smoyer fell in love with Annemarie Berghoff.  He parents used strong persuasion to convince Smoyer to marry their daughter but he was not ready at the time.  While researching for the book, Makos tracked down Berghoff and as it turned out, she indeed married an American GI and moved to America.  But too late.  They were only able to interview her widowed husband.  Lehighton's Clarence Smoyer's story was told by NYT best-selling author Adam Makos.  The movie is expected to be released by year's end.  To read more about how Lehighton's Major Pete Semanoff's efforts in his Eagle Scout Project resulted in this story being published, click here.

He saw the beautiful Katharina Esser die in the crossfire at Cologne.

He bears the grief of burying his Vietnam Veteran son,

of having his beloved wife Melba dying in his arms.

One or the other had to be last.

 

Lesson: We all must bear our own grief. 

But we can never fully understand the grief our veterans have been called to endure. 

Sometimes in life, we must deal with our past before we can learn to live on.

 

 

 

 

Oscar Kromer and the entire crew of Destroyer Escort #413 were sunk in the Battle off Samar in the Battle of Leyte Gulf. 

 

Joyce Kromer Heilman marked this
photo of her father with his mates
on DE413, "The Sammy B" known
at Annapolis as the "destroyer escort 
that fought like a battleship" in
the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

(Read the book “The Spirit of the Sammy B” for a full account.  See footnotes here to read a 10-page excerpt from Kromer's memoir.).

His daughter Joyce remembered her mother’s scream when she read the paper that his ship was lost.

They waited more than four days to know his fate.

 

Kromer had to climb over dead bodies to climb a ladder out the hatch of his flooded boiler room.  

He floated around on debris for two days, watching friend after friend get pulled under the murky waters by sharks. 



Then in 1983, after learning he had terminal cancer, Oscar began typing his memoir in secret. 

Rehashing the story, 38-years later, still gave Kromer nightmares.

He presented the 105-pages to his family on Christmas Day. 

I have the copy Joyce gave. 

 

My own father never talked much about his three landings under fire in Korea, at Inchon, Pusan, and Chosin

Dad was on bereavement leave when his buddies, his Cousin Nuny and the entire Marine Brigade were trapped by the Chinese who crossed the Ya-lu River.

Randy Rabenold, my Dad - June 1950 -
Camp Pendleton, California.

That’s where Frank Mertz earned the Silver Star for bravery, his action saved many lives at Chosin.

 

My Dad was making his way across the Sea of Japan.  They handed his loose company of men two bandoleers of ammo and told them they had to fight their way back in, to help break out the brigade.

 

Without question my research into my Dad’s story got me closer to my Dad. 

 

Just like Oscar Kromer’s family and all the rest: 

Many held onto their story until late in life.

 

Dad was one of six buddies who enlisted together. 

He was the last survivor of them all. 

He too, had to bury the love of his life, my mother Ruthie.

 

On Monday, June 7th of last year, with his lungs failing him and with just hours to live, Dad wrote this last note.  

“On Monday June 7th, 5 Boys Leave for USMC.  Then, “Korea broke out.” 

 

Anyone who knew my Dad knew how compulsive he was about making notes.  He never went anywhere without his notebook or stack of index cards.  He noted everything his whole life: how many loads of wash he did, what he watched on TV, a verse from the Bible, and even how many beers he had that day.  Known for his remarkable penmanship and style, these last notes of Dad's from just hours before he passed show both his decline but also his determination to remember.

(June 7thwas indeed a Monday in 1948 as was as in 2020.)

 As he held my brother's hand in his left, and mine in his right, Dad died with his last thoughts on his buddies on his 72nd anniversary of his arrival at Parris Island.


Let me leave you with the things I am absolutely certain of:

When my 17-year-old Dad joined the Marine Corps, he did not know who he was going to become.

He had no idea what he wanted.


What I know of loyalty, I'm still learning from my Dad.

 

In life there are many things we never want to forget.

For those who served, there are many things they cannot forget.

 

War is a terrible thing. 

 

The least we can do is remember.

The least we can do is continue to share their stories.

 

Everyone wants to be remembered for something.

 

No one wants to be the last. 

 

Our veterans, though they may not have been born as warriors, always understood their duty.

 

And that may be the greatest lesson of all:


To know your role in life, 

And to be willing to accept it.

 








~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oscar Kromer served on the DE#413, the "Sammy B."  He floated in shark-infested waters for two days will waiting to be rescued.  He watched one by one as sharks pulled men under, never to be seen again.

A concourse in Alumni Hall at Annapolis is dedicated to the shipments of the Sammy B for having the distinction as the "destroyer escort that fought like a battleship."

Pgs 52-61: Excerpts from the Memoir of Oscar Kromer of Lehighton, finalized January 1983:
(The entire memoir runs to 105 pages.)














~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dad was always very musical.  We are lucky to have preserved so many memories of him, from his story, to his cartoons and paintings and to the hours of recordings he made while sitting with his mother.  He attended the Lehighton Boys Band as a child and the Navy School of Music while in the Marines.  He played baritone horn, piano, trumpet, and harmonica.  He kept his trumpet mouthpiece next to his bed at the Mahoning Valley Convalescent Home to keep his pucker strength up.  And here is his last recorded performance while a resident there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frank Mertz was a good friend of my Dad's and fellow UVO Member.  I know how humble Frank was about his service.  He'd be mad at me for posting his notes here, that I found among my Dad's things.  Dad used to speak on behalf of the UVO and wanted to showcase the service of his fellow servicemen of the UVO.  I'm certain that Frank wrote these notes only at the persistent proddings by my Dad.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hometown Heroes: 

(Sorry but this is just a smattering of all the people who have meant something to me in my life...I know of several I am missing.)

Great People I've known or heard about my whole life:





Anyone who grew up in Lehighton prior to the 2000s has a story about Mr. Koons.  He was the subject of my college entry essay as the person outside my family whom I most admired.








Friends and Family:





















Former Students (Just a few, I know I'm missing many here):












Rabenold, Going Forward

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There's a metaphor here.  Somewhere. 

Randy Rabenold.  The original, ever complex, he was enigmatic until the end.  

One once said of him, "May your light forever shine."

Another said, "You can argue which was the greatest athlete and the greatest teacher, but you can never argue which athlete and which teacher was the greatest man."

I don't know.  

He was just my Dad.

~20 June 2020 Times News Biography

Kutztown State College - 1956












Dad's childhood comic book circa 1938.



Dad with his dad Zach, a
welder at the Packerton
Yard - 1934.








Always impeccable handwriting.  Always faithful to his mother.
He visited her every evening without fail to watch the evening 
news together, often taking a snooze on her chair. 
  Listen here to one of their conversations,
which often sounded like arguments
 
(1981).  


Korean War trench art - Spring 1951
For a complete look at his trench art, click here.



























Above, getting into his glider at the original Lehighton airport at the southern end of the fairgrounds between Ninth St and Gypsy Hill, and here below in his Korea War enlistment photo, is Joel Heintzelman, cousin to David, their fathers were the founders of Lehighton's Heintzelman's Meat Market from over 100 years ago (story here). 

Though Joel was the same age as my Dad, he always seemed like he belonged to some previous generation.  He'd come to my grandmother's house once a week with her meat order, almost always on a Thursday night.  Mamie, the daughter of a butcher, would take a slice of their home cured and smoked bacon and eat it raw, sucking it into her mouth like an old-fashioned piece shoe-string licorice. 

You can listen to Joel and his home-spun way here after delivering some meats and Hershey's Ice Cream to my Mamie and Dad back in 1981, when Sandra Day O'Connor had just been appointed by President Reagan at the same time that Joel's niece Holly was passing the bar.  And at the same time Cristy Lane's "One Day at a Time" was popular, a tune Dad kept whistling and singing despite Mamie's dismay.

This conversation, at times sounding a little like a real Archie Bunker, speaks of the prevalent attitudes toward women, while my Mamie, born in 1889 and who was 31 until she finally got the right to vote, sounded surprisingly forward thinking as compared to the two men. 


It's not fair judge them with the lens of the current thinking of  this day as it is now 40 years old. 

I remember Joel always wearing work denim, as if he just stepped away from the set of a Western, but his smell was more authentic, a pungent earth from the slaughter house, the sweet of the maple wood from the smoke of the smokehouse, as if those smells were forever encased within the accumulated fat stuck to him and could be seen as a smooth dull finish stuck between those cotton fibers of  his work wear, from the years of rubbing against cattle fallow in the weekly grinding of beef trimmings into bologna and in the curing of the hogback slabs into bacon. 

He once told me of tales of his work as a freelance cattle drover, working cattle from the cars of the LVRR spur that ran along the Mahoning Creek, walking them from small butcher to small butcher from here to Nesquehoning.  How he'd have to get the switch after a steer who decided to check into the open doorway along Race Street in Mauch Chunk of a housewife's kitchen who was cooking the evening supper.

I was visiting Joel, the life-long bachelor, in his final years, struggling with his with diabetes, always the sage.  He too was a gloomy optimist like my Dad.  But he for me was a part of some bygone era that somehow arrived from a back edge of time. 

This picture caption has become the blog post I always intended to write for him.  Of course there's much more that he deserves to have written here.  For now, I'll leave you with this, my other favorite unresolved memory of Joel. 

Spanning back to my childhood, there was this continuous invite to me to go up with him in his glider.  Of course I'd say yes, when could we go?  But there was no way they were going to let me go.  He'd leave and Mamie and Dad would talk of the many crash landings he survived, at least three.  Even once he was beyond his gliding days, with that grin that wrinkled his entire forehead, he'd joke about how I never went with him and that the offer still stood.  And then I'd feel the weight of that regret. 
Looking at these pictures of him, the heft of it is no less. 
(Here again is the link to the 1981 conversation between Joel, Mamie, and Dad.)


















Thursday the 25th: "Go Down for Ronald" - I was only 9. Victory Valley Church Camp ran from Sunday to Saturday. I was too young for basketball camp. So it must have been from my annual stay with either Aunt Bette in Macungie or Aunt Miriam in Center Valley.




Self portrait - 1955
Lino cut print - 1970s
Watercolor and pen - 1970s



Watercolor - 1960s




"Dog fight" Watercolor -  Early 1970s

Acrylic on canvas, 16" x 20" -Early 1970s

Acrylic on canvas, 16" x 12" - Late 1960s

Oil on canvas, 20" x 16" - Early 1970s

"Golgotha," oil on canvas, 16" x 20" - 1970s

Christmas card lino print - 1970s

Water color, 12" x 14" - 1950s

"The Astronaut" - 1969


Trinity Lutheran Church before the rebuild.
Note the mother with son in tow.
Randy was raised a devout Lutheran.




































































Poster, marker, color pencil - He often said this was his favorite piece.  When he'd visit, he'd always 
ask to see it.  He often wished he'd been a cartoonist.  Sometimes he'd also admit he'd wished he'd 
been a novelist.
Mamie was tall, about 5' 10".   All the Strauchs were too.
Zach was often embarrassed by the height difference. 
He was seldom seen walking next to her.

The "Star Ball" was used in every warm-up for Jim Thorpe 
Boys Basketball from the 1960s into the 1980s.
My Mamie - 1889-1983
Her parents were both born in Germany.  She was widowed from 1950.

Watercolor - 2018 (Perhaps his last)



Lino cut







"Yellow Bird" - Pencil sketch, 1983























Friends since elementary school, Randy Art Show 2013.


1976 & 1986 Centennial League Champs with their coach, Mr. Jim Smith at Randy's 2014 art show, 
Mauch Chunk Opera House.

Among the many notes left by fans of Randy
at the show.  Doug paid homage with his own
stencil lettered initials. 
Doug a well-respected commercial artist
and former student


County Officials of the time - Bob Crampsie, Bill O'Gurek, Randy, and Emmit McCall - Art Show 2014




Randy's grandson, sculptor Daniel Finsel

Randy's daughter-in-law Lisa with his self-portrait

Dad and Ken Kline started the JT Summer League back in the 1960s.  Dad ran it for over 50 years.
Here in 1990s with Aaron Sebelin and Mike Berger (Steelers hat)
.





"Let the mind create what it will..."












Dad's desk top with all his enigmatic doodles.  For the last several years of his life, I'd look at his index cards with him, trying to get him to explain his coding system.  Note the same symbols go down the right edge of the front of the card match the desk doodles.   
My favorite quote of his, one he certainly didn't need to write because he lived it, goes up and down in the middle of the back, "Whatever you do, do it well."
He was always so good at dodging my questions.  And in the last four days of his life, even in his most lucid moments, he wouldn't budge. 
The look on his face was of a child who knows the answer but won't tell, his eyes got big with just the smallest of knowing grins.  That was a mystery he took with him.  These same markings were doodled onto his desk top and on cardboard signs hung up in the cellar.  I believe they had a motivational meaning to him, something that kept him going, going forward.  


Kevin Binder, one of Dad's best friends.

Dad with the Ockenhouses.  Dad and Mr. Ockenhouse were lifelong friends.  Dad talks of how he was "evangelized" while in the service, and how he adopted so many chldren, giving them all names from the books of the Bible.  Leading Mamie to showcase her knowledge of some of the books. 

















~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my preaching to the choir sermon.

I do not need to tell you how great our father, grandfather Double R was.

He was the Greatest of Humble Men.

 

When we were children, we had our mother Ruth, and our father Double R to allay our worries.

 

He is gone.  And we are alone.

 

He lived a long and happy life.

The blessing of a long life is also a curse to have to bury all your friends and your wife.

He lived twelve years without Mom.

 

The many dichotomies of Dad.

 

He could be gruff.

He was known for his kind words.

He cared.

He was aloof.

He created order out of the tangles of his mind with index cards.

 

He let his mind create what it will.

 

Outside of care for his family, he had two main modes – Working and procrastinating about work.

 

He thrived on action, He thrived on doing for others – Summer League, Sports Hall of Fame, AmVets.

 

He cherished his alone time, sequestering himself from the voices of the outside world.

 

He gave us gentle pats on the head and talking mouse holes.

 

No one here needs to be reminded of his greatness because all of us carry his greatness within us, that we cherish and cultivate as a little seed of kindness in our own hearts.

He was a child of the Great Depression.  He was a difficult child at times for his mother.  Yet Dad knew the austere joys of a good onion sandwich.

As a child, Dad and his friends built a refuge from the outside world in a little club house in the woods at the edge of the Grove.

He landed in Pusan under artillery fire.  He survived, but later, clubhouse buddy Bobby Kipp was killed in action.

Then they made another landing, this time at Inchon, again under enemy fire.

Then the war became a test of wills, on which side could control the hilltops.  Many times, dad was stationed on lonely outcrops.  There was safety during the day.  But at night, they feared the blood curdling war screams and drums of the Chinese.  It terrorized the men.

Then one day his C.O. called him in to tell him his father died.  They shipped Dad home to be with his mother.

By the time they sent him back in December, the First Marine Division was completely trapped by the Chinese at the Chosin Reservoir.  It was a blood bath.  His buddies were in there, his cousin Nuny Rabenold too.

He was crossing the Sea of Japan for another landing.  It was mixed company of Cooks and Bakers as Dad like to say.  They were told to fight their way in, to save the Division.   

But a miracle happened.  

The Division fought its way out.  

Dad’s buddy Gene Holland was killed there.  Nuny came out with saucers for eyes and the thousand-yard stare, forever changed.

Dad always said his father’s death, saved his life.

 

More dichotomies –

He was the Greatest of Humble Men.

He was forever the gloomy optimist, forever finding the good in bad situations and people.

He never gave up on us.

He had many friends.  Men like Doug Rontz, Randy Smith, Aaron Sebelin, Jailhouse Artist Tracey Everett, Dennis Tredinnick, Kevin Binder, Chuck Hanna, Roger Aroyo, idolized our dad so much that they looked to him as a second father, sometimes the father they never had.

 

It was hard to grow up in the shadow of him.

It hurt to know that we shared had to share him with so many.

But that was among his gifts to the world.

Looking back, at all those that loved him like a father is a joy and blessing, a tremendous comfort now,

To know that he was so loved, by so many, so deeply.

   

Dad wrote these three quotes on the back on an index card EVERYDAY from 2014 and 2016 –

“One in a Billion”– I’d like to think it was for me, but I think it was about our mother.

“Whatever you do, do it well.”  He lived that.

And lastly, he wrote – “What more do you want?”

 


I ask all of you gathered here, what MORE do YOU want?

 

You will never get another Double R pat on the head.

He will never ever draw you another mouse hole.

He will never snarl at you like a gruff and cagy dog ever again.

 

But you do carry his seed of kindness,

the one you have been cultivating in your soul since the day he made you.

The seed has nourished us all

Like the seed that nourishes the cardinal in the dead of winter,

 

Dad sung a special kindness from his soul,

Honor him, 

Let the energy of that seed seep into your soul,

And like that song of the cardinal, 

Let it continue to flow into the world, out of you.


 

 

The moon comes up.

The moon goes down.

This is to inform you

That I didn’t die young.

Age swept past me

But I caught up. 

Spring has begun here and each day

Brings new thoughts to the tangles of my mind.

On Monday, I got a call from the outside world

But I said no in thunder.

I was a dog on a short chain

And now there is no chain.

 

(Slightly revised from Jim Harrison’s “Barking”)



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