Lou’s View – Jan. 9, 2014

The Annivwesary of Slatington

By Lou Bernard

What with all the excitement about Clinton County turning 175 years old, I almost missed the fact that my hometown is turning 150. Slatington, Pennsylvania, the small slate-mining community where I grew up, was founded in 1864. I came along in 1969, and grew up on a small Christmas tree farm outside of town until 1990, when I moved to Lock Haven.

Recently, I did a piece on Clinton County’s biggest moments. I should do something like that for Slatington, too, except I don’t feel like doing the research. So, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to write about the biggest moment I remember personally—The biggest things that happened during my lifetime. I’m going from memory here, so cut me some slack. And, while the local readers in Clinton County get nothing from this, some of my old friends back in Slatington are likely to say,”Oh, yeah, I remember that!”

1979: Fireman statue knocked down. Slatington’s most prominent landmark is a tall statue of a fireman, standing at the bend in Main Street. (Technically, it’s the corner of Main and Third, but nobody refers to it that way.) It was built in 1909, and knocked down by a car crash in 1979. As far as I can remember, they never got the guy who did it, though a reward was offered. I recall a spray-painted plywood sign offering five hundred dollars for information leading to an arrest, with the final few words clearly crammed in before they ran out of space.

The borough rebuilt the statue, bigger and better than before, and included a drinking fountain. I remember them holding a huge festival to celebrate the rebuilding—It was the first time I remember seeing my mom drink a beer. Another historic event.

1986: Crane crash kills two. It was July 24, 1986 when a crane lost its brakes at the top of the hill. I don’t specifically remember this happening the day after my birthday, but I’m not about to argue with the Morning Call. A crane had a malfunction as it entered the community, and rolled downhill, crashing into elderly housing on Main Street and killing two people.

This one made national news; I remember my English teacher being on vacation in Florida and commenting that she’d heard it on the radio. I remember someone spray-painting a street sign to say “No Cranes.” I also remember an adult woman (I’ll call her Patricia; she knows who she is) coming to the playground after hearing a few vague rumors, not fact-checking, and telling the children that there were men shooting people in town. She scared my brother very badly. So, twenty-eight years later, I’m calling you out, Patricia. You are an awful human being who frightens children.

1986: Slatington Library moves a block. I’ve written about this one before—It was only a couple of months after the crane incident. When I was seventeen, my friends and I joined in an effort to move the Slatington Library. It had previously been on the corner, right where Main Street takes a bend. It was moved into a new building up the street, and I joined with the rest of the town in coming out to help. My Boy Scout troop, some classmates, a few friends, and two hundred other Slatington citizens came out and passed books, one at a time, up the street to be reshelved in the new building.

1989: Slatington turns 125 years old. As I sit here and write about the anniversary, I can’t help but think about the last time this happened. In 1989, Slatington turned a hundred and twenty-five, and they held a huge celebration for that, too. I remember parades on Main Street, various sidewalk sales and festivals, and all sorts of good stuff—Though mostly I just hung around with my friend Jaime and laughed at the drunks. I was nineteen, and in community college at the time, and I began to get a sense of local history from watching this event.

Slatington always seemed small to me, though I suspect that most teenagers feel that way about their hometowns. To be fair, if you were paying close attention when you read this one, you may have noticed that all of these events happened on the same corner.

But I did want to write, and bid a happy anniversary to Slatington, Lehigh County, where I grew up. And you never know—I’d like to make a few trips home this year, maybe see some of the events. Last I checked, the “No Cranes” sign was still there—Maybe I’ll stop by and see it again.