Lou’s View
I’VE BEEN READING ON THE RAILROAD
By Lou Bernard
People routinely ask me where I get my information for these columns, as if I have access to some secret hiding place that provides me with all the local history. I suppose, from a certain perspective, that’s essentially true—I have a lot of files, books, and other sources that I’ve acquired over the years, all of which give me tons of stuff to write about.
Sometimes, these come from unexpected places. I have a copy of “The Central Railroad of Pennsylvania,” a 112-page book published by Milton Printing and written by I.H. Mauser in 1894, a hundred and thirty years ago. The title doesn’t really do it justice; it’s really a pretty good book about the history of the area. The book details a lot of the communities along the railroad route in the late 1800s, and it includes a lot of information I wouldn’t have expected.
The book details a lot of information on the railroad, of course. In 1889, charters were acquired for two railroad lines. One of these ran from Unionville, in Centre County, up through Mill Hall. The other started in Lamar, ran through Sugar Valley, and then out to White Deer. Both of these covered a considerable portion of several counties.
The companies were consolidated in 1891, and work began on May 17, 1893. (If you’re wondering where you can get a copy of this same book, Reese’s Print Shop has them for sale for $12.95. They make really nice Christmas gifts, if you know someone like me who is interested in this stuff.)
The ads are worth seeing. The book contains pages full of old ads for businesses that, by and large, do not exist anymore. Axe factories, general stores, flour mills. And the chapters give an amazing amount of detail on the local communities along the railroad line.
The book actually taught me a few things I didn’t know. Did you realize Mill Hall once had a clover mill in 1815? Neither did a lot of potential customers, which is why owner Saul McCormick closed it down. George Garth bought the property and turned it into a cement factory, which was in business until 1873, when an economic panic shut it down.
The place was then purchased by Robert Mann, who was in the axe business. (His ad is one of the ones in the book.) Mann and his oldest son Thomas ran the Mann Axe Factory of Mill Hall, which, it turns out, was at the time the only factory in the country dedicated exclusively to manufacturing double-bitted axes.
Salona, over in Lamar Township, was said to have had several “natural curiosities.” Two of these were springs—Big Spring and Deep Spring. Deep Spring, interestingly, seemed to have no discernable bottom. (I’ve never seen this reported in any other book or newspaper.) It was initially thought that the water from these springs, which powered a local grist mill and foundry, came from Dry Run about four miles away. But an effort to prove that, which involved dumping sawdust in the water, failed when the sawdust failed to make a reappearance. This suggested that the springs might come from a subterranean source.
“No definite depth has been sounded in Deep Spring,” the book states, before telling about a horse that fell in and drowned. Apparently, however deep the spring goes, it’s definitely enough to submerge a horse. The horse’s body was dragged out, and the book notes that it seems to have no effect on the water for the purpose of drinking.
It’s a neat book. It’s only one of the many sources that I use for writing these articles, but it’s a good one. I’ll have to pull it out and write about this stuff some more.