Shamokin Cemetery: The large mausoleum is visible in the background

By many, a cemetery is considered an eerie, morbid, sometimes even macabre place. It’s an overused setting in films and novels of the horror variety, and is not very often associated with anything other than death or desolation in some form. But, although a cemetery certainly marks some of the more despondent moments of history, it is also, to the people who made the Shamokin Cemetery tour on Saturday, May 23rd possible, a place to recognize and remember those who are buried there, and, for a few hours every year, to bring that past back to life.

Meeting the Past: The Reenactments

At 10 and 2 o’ clock Saturday, the Anthracite Heritage Festival’s Shamokin Cemetery tours, narrated by coordinator Frederick “Fritz” Reed, took visitors on a one-and-a-half-hour walk past the final resting places of many of Shamokin’s most significant citizens. Stops at several gravesites were made, and both the history of the individuals interred there, and the history of the town in general, were recounted during the tour. What truly made the event an unforgettable experience was the appearance of four reenactors–portraying Kimber Cleaver, J.J. John, Henry Reese and Sarah Kulp–who told their stories in the first-person to the assembled Shamokinites of the present day.

The first reenactment of the tour began when, after the introduction and a few stops at various graves and the Soldier’s Circle, the tour continued to the grave of Kimber Cleaver, where Reed slipped briefly behind the headstone and returned wearing an old brown hat. After introducing himself with some shyness as Kimber Cleaver, and remarking on his surprise at all the people gathered to listen to him, he told the crowd that sometimes “Mr. Reed comes by, and we talk.” He’d asked Reed to talk to everyone about Shamokin, but, Cleaver said, “he’s not very talkative.”

“Cleaver” went on to speak of his early days, when he first became a teacher, as his Quaker mother had been. Later, he went into surveying, and built several inventions related to mining, only “I never took a penny, because it was for the miners’ benefit.” He also told of inventing a new kind of protractor, but although he was credited for the invention, he did not receive the rights to it.

Later, he explained, “a lot of my friends decided I should be in politics.” They encouraged him to run for several different offices, which he did, but lost at each in turn, until finally “they ran me for Governor,” where he ran as a member of the Native American party.

“I got beat pretty bad,” Reed, as Cleaver, confessed.

Grave of Kimber Cleaver

Cleaver assisted in the laying out of the cemetery when it was founded, and in return the company offered him a plot in the cemetery. Gesturing toward the area surrounding the weathered tombstone, Cleaver remarked, “I just took this little one here.”

When the streets of Shamokin were being laid out, he was appointed to name several of them. He chose to name them after famous Americans and men of literature, such as Lincoln and Shakespeare. But, Cleaver explained, he was also urged to name one street after himself, and he reminded the listeners of the tiny one-way alley alongside the current Dollar General store. “That’s Cleaver Street.”

The tour presently moved on to the gravesite of J.J. John, where reenactor David Kopitsky, Sr., looking the distinguished part in a gray top hat and toting an eagle-headed cane, waited for the tour group’s approach. In the role of J.J. John, he began to narrate the story of his long and accomplished lifetime, beginning with his birth in Catawissa in 1829.

“At eighteen,” he explained, “I started to teach.” Some years later, however, he made the first of many career changes: “Then I decided, I think I’ll become a doctor.”

In subsequent years, he became the owner of a pharmacy in Shamokin. Shrewdly, he bought out other local pharmacies until his own was the only one in town, which Kopitsky as Dr. John pointed out was certainly an advantageous situation.

“Dr. John” also told of enlisting in Company K, Thirty-sixth Volunteer Militia when General Lee invaded Pennsylvania during the Civil War, and in 1874 of his election to the State Legislature. As a member of the House, he was a strong supporter of compulsory education, but despite his efforts it never became law during his lifetime.

“I lived to the ripe old age of eighty-six,” Dr. John summed up his story, “and all that time I was concerned about the poor of the community.”

Afterwards the tour group was allowed in to view the nearby large mausoleum. The massive doors, tightly shut, were unlocked and forced open with some difficulty by cemetery keeper Dave Donmoyer, who, once the lock had finally clattered inward onto the marble floor, escorted the group inside. Among those buried in the mausoleum were William McConnell, Shamokin businessman and state senator, and his wife, Ida V. Martz.

Next to speak on the tour was David Kopitsky, Jr. as Henry Reese. Dressed in an old-fashioned blue police officer’s uniform, which he explained was due to the fact that he became Shamokin’s first chief of police in 1866, he began by telling the listeners of his birth in Wales and immigration to America. In Minersville, he went on, he became a bodyguard during the era of the Molly Maguires, until he joined the army at the outbreak of the Civil War.

It was at this time that Reese gained his most enduring fame. In Petersburg, Virginia, a strategic Confederate stronghold, a number of Union soldiers from Pennsylvania mining backgrounds came up with the plan of excavating a tunnel beneath the Confederate fortifications and setting off a charge of explosives in the “mine” that would destroy the enemy defenses.

This plan, “Reese” told the audience, was accepted.

“So we began to dig…and we began to dig…and we began to dig.”

But, when the digging was completed and the explosives put in place, the Union soldiers waited several hours for the blast that never occurred. Finally it was decided that two men–with Reese as one of them–should venture into the mine to find out and repair whatever was delaying the proper work of the explosives. Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, Reese discovered the problem–a break in the fuse–and repaired it. Then, before quickly making his way back to the open air, he carefully lit the famous fuse that would give his name a place of honor in the history books.

This time, said Reese, the charge exploded, creating a great chasm that would soon be known as “the Crater.” At first, it served its purpose, destroying the Confederate fortifications and a number of men.

“We blew approximately 125 of them to smithereens,” Reese recalled.

Ultimately, however, the ensuing “Battle of the Crater” was one of the largest debacles suffered by the Union Army in the Civil War. In five hours, there were approximately five thousand casualties.

It was primarily because of this defeat that although Reese was nominated several years later to receive the Medal of Honor, it was never awarded to him.

Before the tour group moved on, guide Frederick Reed asked Reese to explain his nickname, “Snapper.” In response, the “Hero of the Crater” admitted: “I had a very, very short temper.”

When Reese had taken leave of the group, Reed led the way along the path to the foot of the steps leading deeper into the cemetery. Indicating a charming Victorian lady in pink walking before the Monroe H. Kulp mausoleum, he announced to the crowd: “I’d like you to meet Sarah Kulp.”

During the next few minutes, reenactor Suzanne Kopitsky as Mrs. Kulp recounted to the audience the story of her husband’s career in business and politics. On the subject of his early life in Shamokin, she told the tale behind his nickname, “Farmer,” which according to popular anecdote was bestowed upon him by Shamokin schoolchildren because he lived out of town.

In the middle years of his life, “Sarah” went on, he was urged by friends to run for Congress. Thus, she said, “he got involved in politics–Republican politics–in a very Democratic area.”

Despite all the odds against him, however, he won the election and became the first man from Shamokin to be elected to Congress.

“When he was there,” said Kopitsky, “that’s when we met.”

Their wedding, Sarah recounted, was described as “the prettiest and most prominent wedding in the history of the community.”

“Which was not a bad description,” remarked Sarah with a fond smile.

She went on to describe Kulp’s Edgewood Park project– “a family park, there was no alcohol allowed” –and another of his most well-known accomplishments, Kulpmont: “My husband, who was never bored, decided he wanted to build a town.”

But in 1911, Sarah confided with melancholy to the listeners, Monroe H. Kulp’s life of success and achievement was cut short when he succumbed to an illness of nearly a year’s duration.

“We tried everything,” she said, “but the rheumatism won.”

Sarah concluded by telling the group with sincerity, in words that surely reflect the hope of everyone who brought the past alive on May 23, “We wanted to make sure no one would forget all the things we did.”

Bringing the Past to Life: An Interview With the Reenactors

Before one of the Anthracite Heritage Festival cemetery tours, I had the opportunity of meeting and speaking with the participants about their work, the planning and preparations that go with it, as well as their personal views on the task of a reenactor.

Frederick “Fritz” Reed, who acted both as event coordinator, tour guide and reenactor, has had the responsibility of choosing whom to portray in a cemetery with over 17,000 burials since the tour’s beginnings during the first Anthracite Heritage Festival in 2006. Initially, he said, Kimber Cleaver was selected as one of the historical Shamokinites to be portrayed because his grave’s location fit on the tour route. Reed, a former mayor of Shamokin, added however that Cleaver’s involvement in politics made him a figure he could relate to. Cleaver, he said, was “my kind of person,” and “a great believer in his community.”

The reenactors, who are all volunteers, did not rehearse for the tour, but were given excerpts from county biographies and other history articles which provided them with information on the historical figures they portrayed. The primary source for the portrayals of Monroe and Sarah Kulp was the late Paul T. MacElwee’s definitive 1986 article, “Monroe H. Kulp: Shamokin’s Most Outstanding Citizen,” and Bell’s History of Northumberland County was consulted for the portrayal of J.J. John.

David Kopitsky, Sr., who portrayed Dr. John, said he believed John was “a Renaissance man,” because “he did so many things;” citing John’s numerous careers, from teaching to medicine to politics and insurance.

Asked what kind of image he aimed to paint of Dr. John in the reenactment, Kopitsky said he wanted to portray him as “self-assured,” “self-confident,” and “not afraid to tackle” a situation.

As a reenactor, Kopitsky said, his goal was “being able to portray the history to those who are interested in learning about it,” and to “give back to the community.”

David Kopitsky, Jr., who portrayed Henry Reese, was enthusiastic and experienced on the subject of history and said that as a history teacher he had known of Reese for some time because of his significant role in the Civil War. To Kopitsky, Reese was an immigrant to America who took advantage of the opportunities in the new country, and ultimately “made a good life for himself and his family.” Kopitsky acknowledged however that though Reese was also an accomplished police officer and Shamokin burgess in his later years, his primary claim to fame was his war record, and had the Civil War not happened, he might have “fallen into obscurity.”

When asked to sum up his overall objective as a reenactor, Kopitsky responded confidently:

“To give an accurate portrayal, and to let those who are watching make their own interpretation.”

Suzanne Kopitsky had the two-fold task of portraying Sarah Kulp, while primarily discussing the biography of Sarah’s husband.

“I tend to portray her,” Kopitsky said, “as a classy lady,” and “affectionate for her husband.”

Kopitsky described Monroe H. Kulp as a “resourceful” man who it seemed was involved in almost everything of importance in Shamokin at the time. She also mentioned the notable Shamokin couple’s reputation for philanthropy and regard for their community.

“They were very giving people,” Kopitsky remarked.

On the subject of what she hopes to achieve as a reenactor, Kopitsky said, “I feel like there’s so much history in Shamokin that has the potential to be lost. I want to make sure that this [tour] keeps going so that that history isn’t lost.”

Kopitsky concluded by saying that she hoped more volunteers would contribute to the tour, which was short this year by two reenactors.

“I would like each stop that Fritz makes to have one person there.”

Then, as the next tour group approached, “Sarah” went to join the others as they walked the graveyard paths, three long-gone personalities of Shamokin’s olden days, resting in the cool, dark window seats of the large mausoleum, or standing on the hill, watching for the arrival of another group of visitors. But as the day ended, and they left the cemetery to walk back to contemporary lives, canes swinging and skirts bustling, those same long-gone personalities became once more the silent names on the weathered gravestones, reposing for another year.

While horses made their way through the streets, and festival-goers milled about the vendors’ booths on Market Street yesterday, a red and white motorized trolley, a new one this year from Wellsboro, made stops at the corner every thirty minutes to take on new passengers for the historical tour through Shamokin and Edgewood.

I arranged to take the 12:00 tour, and as I got on as soon as it arrived, I was able to take a number of photos before many passengers came on.

The trolley, which seats about twenty people, had a beautiful oak interior with brass accents and round ceiling lamps, and in the back a speaker played quaint haywagon-style tunes. Tour booklets were laid out on the seats, featuring old and new photos for stops on the ride.

Oaklawn, in Edgewood (Coal Township), looking northwest. Built c. 1900 by M.H. Kulp

As the trolley proceeded into Coal Township, one of the stops was the former site of the Eagle Silk Mill–the original mill, built 1909–where now one of the numerous elderly housing highrises in town is located. On Lynn Street, the tour guide pointed out Oak Gardens, the small housing development that was once the site of the Kulp residence, Oaklawn.

The trolley continued down Lynn Street and Park Avenue, with the guide noting the former location of the Park (originally Kearney) Hotel, and the entrance to Edgewood Park, where now Shamokin Area public schools stand.

Stadium and parking lot on school property. Originally the site of Edgewood Lake and pool.

From the parking lot shown above, the trolley turned and headed back into Shamokin, clanging the bell in the old fashion as it returned to Market Street.

Overall, the trolley tours lent unique atmosphere and nostalgia to the Heritage Festival. A thirty-minute trip back in time on a method of transportation once common in Shamokin, it was an experience that was informative, memorable, and an irreplacable part of the festival action.

_______________________________

As I was not able to revisit the museum at the American Legion Building today, the next festival article will be on the cemetery tour, and should be posted within two or three days.

(Festi)

What an incredible day.

Certainly, this was the most fruitful, exciting, informative and simply amazing of the three annual Heritage Festivals I’ve so far attended. Starting with the 10:00 cemetery tour, moving on to a trolley tour of Edgewood at 12, interviews with the cemetery tour reenactors at 1:30, and finally a visit to the Anthracite Heritage Museum and adjoining military museum at the American Legion Building around 3, I made it a point to do and see as much as possible, and I have to say I definitely accomplished a lot!

Vendors on Market Street

This is where I initially arrived to pick up tickets from the corner booth. I then proceeded to the Shamokin Cemetery, where I came early to meet and talk to a few people. The tour was fascinating, and I kept my ears peeled for interesting quotes which I quickly scribbled in a notebook. Along the approximately one-and-a-half-hour tour, several stops were made, with commentary by event coordinator and guide Frederick Reed on numerous individuals of the distant and recent past interred in the cemetery, while reenactors also portrayed four prominent figures. Later on I’ll post a more detailed article about the tour, along with photos and a few comments from the participants.

Although I only traveled on the trolley this year, it was pleasant to watch the buggy and wagon traversing downtown Shamokin every now and then–what was once, in the good old days, just a common sight.

Horse and buggy, as seen from the trolley

I also stopped by the American Legion Building before calling it a day. There, I visited the Heritage Museum (see my post from March for more information on the museum), and also happened to find my way into the military museum in the next room. Elegant old furniture and paintings (one is visible in the photo below) adorned the spacious room, which held mostly photographs of local area servicemen from the Spanish-American War, WWI and WWII–and thankfully, nearly every one included an identification!–but also old books, scrapbooks and clippings. Unfortunately, one of my cameras was just about at its capacity, and the other one was home in rehab (recharging) from overuse, so I was only able to take one photo. However, the Heritage Museum, and, I’m presuming, the adjoining military museum as well, will be open tomorrow, so if possible I will visit there again for additional photos.

Military museum, American Legion Building - WWII photos

Next, I will be posting photos and information from the trolley tour, which went through Edgewood. Indeed, this was a great day, and I’m certainly glad I attended!

Well, the time certainly has passed quickly! The 2009 Anthracite Heritage Festival of the Arts officially begins late this afternoon and evening (fireworks, parade, luminaries, etc.). I, however, probably won’t attend until tomorrow–that’s when most of the action gets underway, primarily in the Market Street area. The median will be occupied by a good number of vendors, one street corner will feature the familiar booming bandstand, and around town there will be tours via carriage and motorized trolley of historic districts. Most interestingly, there will also be cemetery tours this year as well, featuring reenactors portraying prominent Shamokinites of days past.

I hope to visit and take photos of as many places as possible, and upon my return, if I have enough photos, I’ll use separate blog posts for each locale. I’ll also be presenting a detailed article about the cemetery tour reenactments, including an in-depth look at how that event is organized, with remarks from the participants themselves.

For a detailed list of the attractions at the 2009 Heritage Festival, check out this News-Item article. The News-Item also delivers a great pitch for the attractions of the festival weekend in “Heritage Festival kicks off today.” A search on the News-Item website will yield additional info.

Finally, I’d like to wish the best of luck to everyone who has made this event possible, and I’m certain the 2009 festival will be a great success!

An interesting article appeared in the News-Item today, about a “key to the city” that was presented at Shamokin’s 1939 Diamond Jubilee to a little girl, now 75, who has returned to bring the key back to the town of its origin. She tells the story of how she received the key in this article.

Well, it’s that time again–the Anthracite Heritage Festival, May 22-23. Lately I’ve been absent from this blog again, but (hopefully!) you’ll be seeing a lot more of me this month. I won’t forget my camera this time ( ) so you can expect numerous photos of the festival action, even though they may be a little blurry from my cameraphone’s sheer ineptitude. That’s another thing I should take care of this year!

This blog certainly needs a makeover, too. If you see anything out of whack for a while, that’s why. Mostly I’m changing the introduction page and adding a Profiles section with short biographies, document transcriptions and assorted information on significant individuals I’m researching. There may also be a Photos page with images of local landmarks and some old photos connected with my research.

It’s certainly going to be a busy month, but I’ve been attending the Heritage Festival for almost three years in a row now, and I’m eager to share the excitement, history and local color of this wonderful summer event here in coal region Shamokin. Yes, a busy but memorable month ahead!

It was reported some time ago in the papers that after last week’s American Legion Building flood, the Shamokin-Coal Township Heritage Museum, did not, in fact, lose any items to water damage, due to the quick response of firefighters and police. The museum also opened its doors last evening at six to the general public, an opportunity which I quickly took, needless to say. And I’m glad I did.

I’ve never actually been in this part of the American Legion Building before. Aside from the library entrance, there are two entrances at either end of the facade, and it’s the one at the left that leads to the Heritage Museum. It opens, first, into a small vestibule, which, though old, by its construction probably isn’t original. The vestibule, however, then opens onto a large, empty, high-ceilinged room with superb stone walls and a long staircase under an archway. Along the ceiling, a carved inscription dedicated to the memory of the soldiers of the World War (that would be the first, as the building was erected in 1922), follows the perimeter of the room.

Upon arriving, I proceeded up the stairwell to a door marked with the name of the museum. Turning right as I entered, I came upon a long narrow hallway with several tables lining one wall, containing mostly school group portraits from the 1920-1950 period, though a few from earlier dates were there as well. Some old documents and miscellaneous items, including a case of rulers with the names of local businesses, could also be found.

Here I met Mr. Carr, who had collected most of the items at the museum. He was quite helpful, and showed me into the next two rooms, which contained a bounty of old documents and photos. I spent an hour and a half going through them, and still had not time to see everything. School memorabilia, yearbooks and reviews, made up a good portion of the collection, but there were also a number of portraits (most unidentified, unfortunately), church records and booklets, and several family diplomas, baptismal and marriage certificates. Most of these last were from the Mulliner family, but there were a few Henninger, Neugard, and Fetterman names as well, among others. I saw dates as early as 1901, but most of the diplomas and certificates were from the 20s. The portraits varied in time period from the 1890s/1900s, or perhaps earlier, to the 1940s and 50s. There were also binders containing old miscellaneous paperwork such as invitations, business letters, etc. Newspaper clippings, most of them recent, from the Centennial (1964) or later, were also to be found. Just before I left I came upon quite a few old directories, most fairly recent–within the past fifty years or so–but some appeared to be a little older. It was getting late, however, and I had to leave, so I did not get a chance to go through them until this morning.

Naturally, I did turn up some interesting finds. A 1924 high school yearbook included a photograph of Dorothy Shuman, daughter of Harry W. Shuman, who was a nephew of M. H. Kulp. According to the 1920 census, Dorothy was at that time living with Kulp’s widow, Sarah, at her Edgewood residence. Apparently, she lived with her for a number of years, as the yearbook lists Dorothy’s address as 126 N. Shamokin Street, to which Sarah Kulp relocated after the sale of Oaklawn in 1923. In the yearbook, the remarks by “Dot’s” portrait read:

Just gaze upon this charming bit of feminine beauty. Really, dear readers, we just don’t know what to say about her. She is a good sport, a fine pal, and all around good fellow. If it were not for all this, perhaps, we could say something, but we know when we are beaten. We wish every success.

So beautiful and refined
I hope she doesn’t mind,
If I tell you this time,
She’s got an awful line.

A 1932 yearbook mentioned Monroe Shuman, Dorothy’s brother. Born in 1914, he was named after his great-uncle.

“Sunny”

This little boy we call the “Coach,”
He’s razzed and teased the limit.
But when his “Mamma” calls,
He’ll be there in a minute.

I also located a few photos of (I believe) Harry Shuman, Jr., brother of Monroe and Dorothy, and better known as H. Wilt Shuman. And, on one shelf in the museum, I found a fairly large, black tin lockbox, empty, with the inscription “Compliments of Kulp Lumber Co., G. Gilbert Kulp, Prop.” With Gilbert as the proprietor, this box must date from before 1929.

As I dug through the multitude of dusty treasures, a cd player in the other room played recordings of the former WISL station, on which host Tom Kutza used to discuss his memories of old Shamokin. Between commentary, Big Band tunes played, along with a rendition of “Dear Old Edgewood Park,” and the locally famous 1940s “Moke from Shamokin.”

After an hour and a half, I had to get going, but returned again this morning shortly after eleven. The oldest of the directories, it appears, was 1928-29, and though there was a gap between those years and around 1950 or so, there were several directories from post-1950. In the back of the room, I found a diary from around 1934-37, written by someone named Betty. I did not see any surname for the author in my perusal of the diary, but there were frequent references early on to a “Grandma Shott.”

In a “Labor Day Handbook” from 1916, I also came upon a portrait I had never seen before of William C. McConnell, who was running for office (State Senate) at the time. On the subject of photos again, I really must say there were more portraits at the museum than I could tell you. Some were from Thomas Photography, others Lippiatt, Swank, and more, and some were school pictures. Many more were in books. Unfortunately, the majority had no identification, but I’m sure there must be plenty of genealogists and locals out there who might be able to recognize someone. I tell you, this place can be quite the gold mine for anyone interested in Shamokin history, genealogical or otherwise. There was a lot of interesting miscellany, too, like souvenirs from local businesses. Quite honestly, I saw a little bit of everything.

The museum, however, doesn’t seem to be getting a lot of attention. Last night, I was the only visitor there the whole evening, except for someone who stopped in briefly, mostly asking about the flood damage to other areas of the building. When I signed the guestbook again the next morning, there were no other names after mine. So I’d like to say that if you’re at all interested in Shamokin area history, or your ancestors from the area, be sure to visit the Heritage Museum. I think it’s an invaluable resource and a fascinating glimpse into the town’s past. According to the News-Item, the museum will be open from noon to 3 pm tomorrow.

Shamokin’s American Legion Building on Independence Street houses the Shamokin-Coal Township Public Library, the Anthracite Heritage Museum, the Lower Anthracite Model Railroad Club, and a gymnasium, among other establishments. On Monday, March 9th, however, it seems a floor sink in the gym upstairs was left clogged and the water running for several hours. Needless to say, this didn’t end well.

I first noticed something was going on Monday morning after seeing a crew of fire trucks and the works outside the building, but did not learn much more until the following day when I visited the library. The incident was also briefly mentioned at the city council meeting Monday night, which I attended, but they didn’t go into details. In any case, it appears the rear section of the public library sustained the most water damage. The stairs to the children’s section were still drying on Tuesday, and the upper floor was accessible only by the usually closed staircase in the front of the building. The fiction area was considerably affected, and the newspapers report that hundreds of books were ruined or damaged. The museum, too, lost some items, but details haven’t been published. (I only slap myself for not having visited the museum before. I mentally confused it with the model railroad club and expected to find little of use to my research there.)

When I visited the library Tuesday, the place smelled faintly of damp paper and all the tables on the main floor were covered with books standing on their edges with the pages fanned out and drying. At least, however, the damage was only in the back, and the historical materials and microfilm are nearer the front, untouched. The lights were all of course out in the fiction area, and in the semi-darkness I could see the shelves were covered with plastic sheeting. As I scrolled through the newspapers on the microfilm reader, seeking out an obituary to copy, cameramen from WBRE and–what was it? WNEP?–showed up, with the librarian escorting them around. (I swear I did not know there were going to be cameras when I came in!! Lol. ) It was all very quiet, however, and I went on with printing the obituary.

These two articles in the News-Item–Library Floods; Shamokin – C.T. Library Reopens After Flood–provide a full account of the incident and aftermath. Fortunately, the librarians say that although the damage is serious, it’s not quite as costly as expected, and many of the books are salvageable. It isn’t known yet whether the clogging of the sink was deliberate, or simply idiotic.

Speaking of quiet, I figure I will also mention the council meeting, since it’s the first I’ve attended. It took place in a large room on the second floor of the Lincoln Street City Hall, and though I won’t go into details, let’s just say it was docile. All the councilmen and councilwomen agreed unanimously on every issue brought forth, and the first order of business was to take a break. But I suppose that’s all a good thing–we don’t argue in this town! However, one important issue that came up was the Knights of Columbus Building on Independence Street. This was a place that was supposed to be erected some months ago after the original K of C building was damaged in a roof leak or something, and part of the ceiling collapsed (don’t really remember when that was). However, the new, unfinished building also collapsed quite suddenly in January when all four walls simply fell into a heap, scattering debris onto the sidewalk. To this day, the sidewalk is still inaccessible. Cleanup hasn’t even been attempted, and it seems the contracting company can’t be communicated with. K of C people say the contractors have 15 days to get moving, but if they don’t, cleanup will still definitely happen within 30 days.

I know it’s been horrendously long since I posted here, but you know how stuff comes up. Plus, WordPress updated their software recently and at first I swore I could not use it in a million years. Slow–worse than the previous version, which was deadly slow too!–looks awful on both browsers, has Flash player problems…It was a horror. But, when I logged in today to give it one…more…try…it didn’t look so bad. The Flash seems to be working okay again, at least I think so, and yes it’s slow but bearable. I have also resolved the page appearance difficulties; the new movable “boxes” had to be slowly and painfully dragged to other areas of the page, but thankfully now that they’re there they don’t move back. So, I think I can live with the new software. If not, I have a back-up option at Blogger.

I also plan to self-host this blog soon, which means you will all have to update your links (will post the new site address here once I have one). However, it won’t be right away because the free webhosting service I usually use is having issues. Long, annoying story. They said it would be resolved in January but now they admit they just don’t know when.

At this rate I probably don’t have a great deal of readers here, but for those of you who are reading, I do apologize for the long absence. I will try, try, try to post more regularly here! Thank you all for taking the time to follow this blog!

It’s only February, but I’m already starting to think now and then about the upcoming Heritage Festival, which is in three months, though it seems like only a short while ago I was posting about the 2008 event here on the blog. This year, I’ll try to get more involved in the festival. Visit more places; take more photos. I also still have plans for a trip to Harrisburg. And this spring I may be buying a new computer, so any other difficulties I may have with WordPress will hopefully be taken care of then.

I updated the genealogy database recently; the data is basically the same but the “bug” in the genealogy software has been fixed, so except for some formatting glitches it should look fairly normal now. Later, too, I’m thinking I might add a few more pages to this blog with historical information about some of the families I’m researching. Stay tuned!

I’ve had to deal with some weekday errands these past few days, but now I’m finally here in front of my computer to report on another very interesting trek I had on Wednesday through some old local landmarks. After that Washington School expedition a few weeks ago, this is really getting quite interesting. Photos ahead!

First stop: The Douty Building, Sunbury Street. Erected July 1865 by John Blundin Douty–businessman, coal baron. Original history of building: Storefronts, apartments? Current status: Apartments throughout 2nd floor, sheer disrepair on 3rd.

Upper view of the Douty Building

We arrived at the Douty Building shortly before 4 o’ clock, when the property was scheduled to be auctioned. Bidding wasn’t for me, of course, but I couldn’t resist getting a closer glimpse into another piece of Shamokin history.

So, I came in and gave myself the grand tour–the auctioneer was okay with letting me explore on my own. The first floor was rather unremarkable; inhabited by the remnants of a church organization called “The Ministry of the Water and Spirit.” They hadn’t quite cleared out yet, so most of the first floor was filled with their old stuff. (Interesting–the old Washington School, which I visited a few weeks ago, was also used by a church organization at one time.)

The second floor was all apartments; very small cubbyholes of apartments, and there were three or four. Someone mentioned that this area had been a beauty parlor some years ago. At the moment, the apartments looked fairly clean, and all very much alike, modern, and generic, with white paint and tidy gray wall-to-wall carpeting, while the narrow hallways seemed more of a throwback to the 70’s. The floors were an aged green-and-white linoleum tile, and the walls were covered in wallpaper of a drowsy, faded straw yellow–the not-so-elegant pattern resembling straw, too.

Down the hall, however, were sharp turns left and then right again, and out onto the landing of a big, old spiral staircase extending both up a floor and down one. Faded green paint was to be found in most places, and the tip of a window nestled behind the stairs was visible. Here, at least, things probably hadn’t changed all that much in a hundred-some years–precisely the way I prefer my old buildings.

2nd floor landing, rear staircase of the Douty Building

Unused to the construction of the stairs, I made my way up them slowly. I had not thought to bring a flashlight but for the very weak one in my cell phone, so I used especial caution as some sections were very dark. Finally, at the top of the stairs, I found myself on the third floor, and faced with two doorways.

The one on my left led to a fantastic old room. It was in awful shape, but still bearing wallpaper that in some sections was probably over a century old, as well as the remnants of fine woodwork and…a few other interesting articles. Such as an extremely old sink in one corner.

Yow, this thing is old.

Apparently, this area had housed a washroom at one time. There was also a rickety ladder near the door leading up to some sort of loft or crawlspace, but needless to say I didn’t venture up there.

Picking my way around the debris, I exited the room and went through the second doorway into a dim hall, where I found three doors all leading into the large, main room of the Douty Building’s third floor.

Large old lamps--now unused.

More debris, of course. But those windows were certainly something. Both side walls, as well, had been lined with large windows until they were boarded up. At one end of the room, I found the dust-shrouded pieces of a banister which resembled that of the rear staircase I had just climbed. Apparently, the now-remodeled front section of the building had had a similar staircase at one time. Also nearby were several fine old glass lamps. Another interested individual I met up with downstairs who seems to know his stuff says that this room may have been some sort of meeting area at one time; he says the green-painted doors are indicative of that.

I also followed the rear staircase down to the ground floor, but found little there except a cardboard box, an odd set of numbers stamped onto the edge of the stairs (hey, I have no idea), and a small, cramped closet under the stairs to which my first reaction was, “Fine place for a hobbit or something, eh?”

Next Stop: F&S Brewery building, Commerce Street.

Downstairs again, the auction took place some time later, but we left early along with a few friends who had also come to take a look around. While talking with them I learned that one had recently purchased a building in town on Commerce Street, the old Fuhrmann and Schmidt Brewery place just past the railroad tracks, with its grayish purple and blue paint over brick, that had recently been serving as a bar. Being that this was rather a local landmark as well, I asked my friend if he would mind letting us come and have a look around there too. It was getting a little dim outside, but we had nothing much else to do, so he agreed–although warning me that the place was not in perfect shape–and we drove the few blocks to Commerce Street.

I confess that, unlike most Shamokin historians, I don’t know a great deal about the F&S brewery, and I’m not sure what purpose this particular building of theirs served–although I know that the rest of the brewery was in the same area–but I have always presumed that it held the company’s offices, or something of that nature. I could be wrong about this, and after exploring the place it seems plausible that it may always have been some type of bar/saloon/watering hole/social gathering spot. (If anyone knows please feel free to enlighten!)

So, arriving at the squarish brick facade of the building, we parked nearby and proceeded up the steps, past a few classic nightclub glass block windows and beer signs still hanging on the walls. Basically, everything looked fairly recent here, including the door which was a rather cheap, vinyl, hardware store, plain-brass-knob, within-the-past-15-years variety. I didn’t expect that much of the building’s original design, if it had ever had much, was still around, but we went in anyway.

The first room was unremarkable–and in rather unpleasant condition. Apparently, the place had been empty for some time before my friend purchased it a few months ago. The bar was rather large, wood and glass block, but not very old. There was a lot of dust and debris, and a few puddles of water had collected on the concrete floor near the entrance, reflecting the street lights on Independence Street that were just beginning to turn on. There were no lights in the building, however, and we used our cell phone flashlights to get around the increasing darkness of the unlit rooms.

After a quick look around the main bar area, we proceeded across some pieces of foam and cardboard through a narrow doorway at the left, leading to the non-saloon section of the building. To my surprise, after a mere couple of feet our flashlights revealed a large staircase of heavy, intricately carved dark wood directly ahead. The hefty banister was covered in fragile veils of cobwebs over every inch, but the quality of the woodwork was undeniable. The last few steps of the stairs were curved outward in an elegant fashion, and even the walls were paneled luxuriously in deep, carved wood.

This photo only gives you a vague idea of the woodwork in this room--it was over all the walls, and much more detailed than you see here, but I was running out of memory on my camera.

Basically every section of every wall in this room was wood paneled, complete with carved floral patterns and the works. There was a small room in the back with double exterior doors, and very solid brick walls. (This place is built well, let me tell you.)

On the large landing upstairs, we found several drawers and cabinets–carved wood again–built into the wall, and more fine banister detail.

Second floor, stairs down

The main second floor room into which the stairs led was also well-designed, and directly across from the staircase was a room with solid wood beams paneling the walls in an Elizabethan style. Most of the ceilings were dropped, but above some missing panels a few pieces of old trim were still intact. There was also a small room near the stairs which you can see in the above photo, but it wasn’t much (at least compared to the rest of the building!).

At a left turn from the stairs was another doorway, and just past it were draped large, heavy pieces of gray construction canvasing under which you had to stoop to get through. The ceilings here were especially high, and at one place in the middle of the room a ladder with peeling white paint was positioned, leading up to a small, square, windowed dormer-like area. One large corner of the room was walled off, but accessible by a doorway and a long pass-through–resembling a kitchen-type setup, so I presumed we had entered a dining room of some sort. Along one wall were tall windows, with their many panes of glass glazed over from extended lack of cleaning, and scraggly branches of dead trees outside scratched against them in the gray illumination of approaching dusk.

It was getting late and time to go, so we headed back downstairs and out to the front porch. I snapped a few photos of evening Independence Street just across the railroad tracks, but couldn’t help recalling what an unusually beautiful building I’d just encountered, despite its poor condition–and all the past years woven into the gossamers of cobwebs, and the elegant floral carvings of a once-majestic hall. At the same time, too, who knows how many prominent locals of the past may once have trodden up and down that same spiraling rear staircase of the 150-year-old Douty Building; or stood before its windows; or under its high ceilings and now-broken lamps; or through its long, dusty passageways–a century before now? There’s a lot of past in these buildings–and that’s what it’s all about.

Posted in Community, Images, Land, Research Trips ]]> http://onepointintime.wordpress.com/2008/11/14/goodness-gracious-more-eerie-old-buildings/feed/ 2 onepointintime shmk-sunbury-st-douty-south-upper-floor shmk_sunbury-st_douty_int_2flr_apthallway_twd-rear-stairs shmk_sunbury-st_douty_int_2flr_stairs shmk_douty_int_3flr_washroom1 shmk_sunbury-st_douty_int_3flr_washroom_sink shmk_sunbury-st_douty_int_3flr_large-room shmk_sunbury-st_douty_int_3flr_large-room_lamps shmk_sunbury-st_douty_int_2flr_spiral-down shmk_commerce_f-s_1flr_stairs1 shmk_commerce_f-s_2flr_stairs shmk_commerce_f-s_2flr_diningroom