Part One
Okay, in fairness there aren’t really all that many castles or palaces in West Virginia. But on my trip through the upper panhandle of West Virginia, I managed to find one of each—along with many other scenic places and a host of interesting roads.
I got an early start on August 26 and quickly reeled off the 200 miles to Morgantown. Along the way, I enjoyed looking down from Sideling Hill on the low-lying clouds that I’d driven through near Hagerstown, Maryland. (They quickly dissipated, leaving a largely cloudless sky and very high temperatures, even well up in the mountains.)
I lived in Morgantown from ages 1½ to 5½, while my father taught at the University of West Virginia. Decades earlier, an Italian stonemason named Thoney Pietro had come to the U.S. in 1896 and built himself a proper “castle” for his family starting in 1928. He didn’t bother with plans or drawings, building the stately mansion from the ideas in his head. Thoney donated the place to the Franciscan Friars in 1949, who added to the property but allowed it to deteriorate and become virtually a ruin inside by 2008. After being on the market for years at $2.8 million, the castle was recently acquired by The Cavalry Chapel.
Not far from the castle, I found the 1867 Easton Roller Mill. It started life as a typical grist mill but was upgraded in 1894 to use roller grinding wheels, which produced a much finer grade of flour. The mill prospered through the 1920s before ceasing operations in about 1940. It was willed to the local historical society in 1978 and fully renovated in 2012-2013.
Although the mill was closed on the day of my visit, a longtime member of the historical society happened to be there and gave me a brief tour. I was especially impressed by this beautifully preserved steam engine in the basement, which had powered all of the mill’s operations since the 1890s. It is still operational.
Longtime readers are well-acquainted with my staunch Baptist friends Cathy and Kim. I detoured over to the Forks of Cheat Baptist Church, just for them. The church was built in 1775 and named for the headwaters of the Cheat River (which, uh, are not even remotely nearby).
Like most historic churches in rural areas, this one has a pleasantly scenic cemetery.
Unlike most historic church cemeteries, however, this one led a secret life. The Weltner Family tombstone looks normal enough from its east side. On the opposite side, however, George M. Weltner’s panel can be moved, revealing a mysteriously hollow interior…
This part of West Virginia was well known for its “Monongahela Rye” whiskey in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Its unique flavor made the brew world famous, and it is even mentioned in Moby Dick. Then along came Prohibition. A few of the numerous stills in the area survived, and their products could be discreetly purchased. All you had to do was to place your money inside the tombstone, wait a few hours, and then return and retrieve your Monongahela Rye from within! History does not record how many of the ostensibly tea-totaling Baptists were among the customers.
After meandering for 78 miles, the Cheat River empties into the Monongahela, forming Point Marion, Pennsylvania in the process. Although the Cheat looks pretty tame here (on the left in the photo), kayakers and canoeists know it as one of the most challenging whitewater rivers in the country. In his prime, my Venerable Dad tackled the Cheat’s Class IV rapids in his 15-foot Grumman aluminum canoe—but only with a full canvas deck.
As long as I was on the east side of the Monongahela, I detoured a ways to find the home of Alfred Gallatin. This fellow is little-known today but was an extraordinary businessman and public servant in the late 1700s and early 1800s after emigrating from his native Switzerland to the U.S. He eloped with Sophia Allegre in 1789 and built “Friendship Hill” as their family home.
Their original home was just a small 2-story stone section in the middle of this photo. (I debated asking the workmen to move their equipment and scaffolding so I could get a better photo…) The other parts of the house were added over the years. Sadly, Sophia passed away after only a few months; she asked to be buried in an unmarked grave near the cliffs overlooking the Monongahela River. She is still there, somewhere; her gravesite has never been identified.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the house was open for tours on the day of my visit. The National Park Service has rescued and restored the mansion from its previous, near-ruinous condition.
As for Albert Gallatin, he was elected to the U.S. Senate in 1793—and became the first member ever to be ejected from the Senate when his political opponents realized that he failed to meet the 9-year citizenship test (by 6 months). He was later elected to the House of Representatives and helped to found what became the powerful Ways and Means Committee. Subsequently, he became the longest-serving Secretary of the Treasury in history, working for Presidents Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. Among many other accomplishments, he was instrumental in negotiating the Treaty of Ghent, which ended the War of 1812, and cofounding New York University. For decades, I walked right by his statue outside of the Treasury Building, never realizing whom the statue represented.
Backtracking to Point Marion, I found this gigantic dam and lock on the Monongahela. It was built in 1926 by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers for flood control and navigational purposes only; no electricity is generated here.
Southwest Pennsylvania, like most of the rest of the state, was famous for its coal mines, railroads, and steel mills. Most of these industries are gone, although many signs remain including this tipple for transporting coal from the nearby mines to the railroad tracks.
The town of Greensboro, PA is located inside a bend of the Monongahela River. The Greensboro School was built in 1904, replacing an earlier structure that dated back to at least 1816. Three teachers taught about 100 first- through eighth-grade students here until the school closed in 1960. The building now serves as the Monon Center, encouraging “interest in the arts, history, and culture.” In the background of the photo is Baltzer Kramer’s log cabin, which was moved here in 1976. Ironically, tax records from 1816 indicate that Mr. Kramer was “unable to pay for his children’s schooling.”
John Crawford built this brick Italianate house in 1878, about a quarter mile north of Greensboro. At that time, the village was known as “Glassworks,” so named for the glass factory established there in 1797 by our old friend Albert Gallatin and six German glassblowers. The factory made windows, goblets, glasses, whiskey bottles, and other glass products through the mid-1800s. Our other old friend, Baltzer Kramer, bought the facility in 1860 and ran it for another few years before it went bust altogether. Today there is nothing left of the glass factory other than some surviving glassware and a large vacant lot next to John Crawford’s abandoned house.
Speaking of abandoned houses… I happened across Chip, Evan, and Danielle’s wonderful Southwest Pennsylvania Rural Exploration blog and learned of a number of scenic old spots in this area. One of them is a once-stately farmhouse, which is about 5 miles farther north from the Crawford home. It was much larger than I first realized, since much of it is covered by ivy.
The interior of the house was quite dramatic, since almost all of the flooring had been removed! This old mansion now offers a continuous basement-to-upstairs view. It was fascinating to see the doors, bookshelves, staircase, and other remaining parts of the house, in contrast to the missing floors. Not the sort of place you’d want to run blindly into for shelter from a storm…
According to the SWPARE website, the interior of this house was used in filming part of Brynn Marie’s country music video I’m Sorry. It’s a little hard to tell, because the floors were still there when she made the video, but I’ll take their word on it.
The nearby town of Carmichaels, PA offered a handsome old covered bridge from 1889…
…an ivy-covered old brick house…
…and the Greene Academy. This latter structure started life as a stone church in 1790, with the brick section added in 1810. The school taught poor children in the community through 1893, including Albert B. Cummins who went on to become governor of Iowa and a two-time Presidential candidate. Did I mention that the talented Ms. Brynn Marie grew up in Carmichaels? (She is unlikely to have attended the Greene Academy, however—but I think she deserves another photo all the same! Both pictures courtesy of Brynn Marie’s PinInterest page.)
Rice’s Landing is situated directly alongside the Monongahela River and up its very steep western bank. The town was first settled in 1780 and by 1830 had become a prominent port on the river. Prosperity continued into the 1900s with the development of the original Dilworth Coal Mine. This concrete wall served as the steamship landing in the late 1800s. (Photo of steamship ferry at Rice’s Landing courtesy of Ten Mile Creek Country.)
As it happens… in 1908 the legendary Carry Nation (1846-1911) was standing on this very wall, after having given an impassioned speech against the evils of drinking in nearby Carmichaels. At nearly 6 feet tall and about 175 pounds, she was infamous for using a hatchet to smash the facilities and liquor stocks of saloons across America. Her “hatchetations” repeatedly landed her in jail, but she paid the fines and continued smashing bars—sometimes as many as a dozen in one day. This following account of one such exploit in Topeka, Kansas is from her autobiography, The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation:
• I passed on down to the “Senate” saloon and went in. … The bar-tender ran towards me with a yell, wrenched my hatchet out of my hand and shot off his pistol toward the ceiling: he then ran out of the back door, and I got another hatchet… I ran behind the bar, smashed the mirror and all the bottles under it; picked up the cash register, threw it down; then broke the faucets of the refrigerator, opened the door and cut the rubber tubes that conducted the beer. … I threw over the slot machine, breaking it up and got from it a sharp piece of iron with which I opened the bungs of the beer kegs, and opened the faucets of the barrels, and then the beer flew in every direction and I was completely saturated. A policeman came in and very good-naturedly arrested me. For this I was fined $100 and put in jail.
Needless to say, Carry Nation was incredibly unpopular with much of the population, and she was routinely assaulted with eggs, mud, and even fists and rocks, and there were many efforts to kidnap her or have her committed to an insane asylum. On the steamship wharf at Rice’s Landing that night in 1908, a young man rushed up and blew cigar smoke directly into her face. Carry grappled with the man, trying to get his cigar, and he threatened to throw her off the wall into the Monongahela. Eventually the scuffle subsided—probably because Carry was winning—and ultimately she declined to press charges. She continued her campaign for another 3 years before dying in a Leavenworth, Kansas asylum.
I swear: no matter where you happen to be, something interesting has happened right there!
Rice’s Landing had many prosperous businesses, including its own foundry and machine shop. The W.A. Young & Sons building still houses most of its original machinery and equipment. The fate of any bars in town during Carry Nation’s visit is not known.
This little building was the Rice’s Landing jail. The tunnel in the background runs under the railroad and leads into Pumpkin Run Park. Due in great part to the steep hillside that prevents broader development, Rice’s Landing represents one of the most original river ports in Pennsylvania.
Chip, Evan, and Danielle’s website also acquainted me with the town of Mather, PA and its nearby abandoned railroad bridge. I parked the patient 335i as close to the bridge as possible (which wasn’t very) and set off on foot, Montana 600 GPS in hand. The first part of the journey was pretty easy, walking along a paved right-of-way. Then it deteriorated to an unpaved path, and shortly thereafter I had to climb up and over a small rise and continue through tall weeds. Eventually an ATV trail reappeared, but there had been a lot of rain recently, and I began sinking deeper and deeper into the muck.
I persevered, of course, since I knew there were thousands of readers waiting to see a photo of the old bridge. But when I got to where the bridge should have been, there was absolutely no sign of it. None! As I dejectedly turned around, I spotted what looked vaguely like a couple of old railroad ties in some dense underbrush. Then, by scrabbling partway down a steep dirt bank, hanging onto small trees for dear life, I managed to get this wholly unacceptable photo of one end of the bridge. Sheesh…
If I’d had a rope, ladder, and/or more courage, I could have gotten to the bottom of the hillside for a proper photo that would have looked like this one (courtesy of the Southwest PA Rural Exploration blog). Dang! Of course, if I had gotten to the bottom, I’d probably still be down there. I chalked this up to another of those Near Misses o’ Photography. The bridge, incidentally, was abandoned in the 1920s. In 1972, an impromptu high school graduation party was held nearby, and somehow the wooden support structure at the northern end (as shown in my photo) was torched. The resulting fire led to the partial collapse of the bridge.
Interestingly, while I was trying to find this ghost bridge, I twice heard the distinct sounds of a train passing nearby, even though I couldn’t see one anywhere. I was willing to accept that it actually was a ghost train, but I later learned that the old Chartiers Southern Railroad tracks are right across Ten Mile Creek, and the line is still used by Conrail. My ghost bridge was a spur across the creek, leading to the Mather Coal Mine, once one of the largest in this part of Pennsylvania—and the scene of one of the nation’s worst mining disasters.
After finding the bridge, I retraced my steps while thinking about the events of May 19, 1928. Mather was a typical coal mining “company town,” with rows and rows of company housing for the workers, a general store, drug store, theatre, recreation center, and post office. The mine was considered a model of modern operations and safety practices, and it had an unblemished safety record from its beginnings in 1917. On this day, however, the evening shift workers had just descended into the mine when a horrific explosion occurred. Methane gas had collected in the mine, which was 350 feet below ground, and an electrical arc from a small, battery-powered coal trolley apparently triggered the explosion. Fourteen of the miners in the affected area managed to escape, but 195 of their colleagues perished, leaving almost 100 widows and 500 orphaned children. The Mather facility continued operations until 1964.
These somber thoughts were juxtaposed against the pleasant view of the former mine’s reservoir.
Interestingly, as I first approached this fallen tree while going to the bridge, I peripherally saw two animals slip from the tree trunk into the water, each with a big splash. I made a mental note to look for them on my return—and forgot, naturally. On the way back, I went through the whole experience again, still without seeing what they were. Based on their size and speed, I’m guessing either beavers or otters. I stood perfectly still for at least 5 minutes, hoping they would return, but they were too smart for me.
The little Chartiers Southern Railroad had its own station just outside of Mather. Although it’s now 90 years old and has been abandoned for a long time, it’s not in bad shape. (Historical photo courtesy of the Greene County, PA Photo Archive Project.)
Marianna was another coal company town in Pennsylvania, having been established in 1903 by the Pittsburg & Buffalo Company to provide housing for the workers and their families. The town was designed to substantially improve the standard of living for miners compared to the norm at that time, with modern brick, three-story houses that included indoor plumbing. The houses were arrayed along the 240-foot-high hillside behind the mine, which itself was on the banks of Ten Mile Creek. Although most of the mining facilities were demolished in 2004, the town of Marianna lives on, as seen in the Bing satellite photo below.
The quality of the housing at Marianna was the result of mine owner John H. Jones’ desire to build a state-of-the-art facility, complete with the world’s largest, most modern, and safest coal mine. In November 1908, Jones helped convene a conference of state governors and others to plan legislation for improving mine safety and providing disability insurance for mine workers. Only a few days later, and despite Jones’ best intentions, the Marianna mine suffered a disastrous explosion, claiming the lives of 154 men and injuring many others.
Mining operations continued for 80 more years at Marianna, with another fatal explosion in 1957. In 1988, the mine’s main conveyor caught fire, and the blaze could not be extinguished. Closing the mine’s openings was the only way to counter the fire, and the facility never reopened. After the dismantling, only the coke ovens are left—but I couldn’t find a way to them that didn’t involve either barbed wire or steep cliffs. I settled for a tour of Marianna, which is still a functioning town although a growing number of its iconic yellow-brick houses are now vacant.
Further along Ten Mile Creek, I happened across the Pleasant Hill Presbyterian Church. The congregation was formed in 1833, although the brick church may have been built at a later date. As indicated in the photo, it was a nice sunny day, and the 335i’s top had been down for quite a while.
Pennsylvania has looked after its covered bridges much more thoroughly than other states, and a significant portion of them have survived. Without even trying, I found the Hughes and Bailey covered bridges, which are among the nine survivors of the original 35 such bridges in Greene County. Both cross Ten Mile Creek, and both were built in 1889; the Hughes bridge is completely original, while the Bailey was rebuilt in 1994 following a fire.
One of my favorite discoveries during this trip was the handsome Archer No. 1 Schoolhouse, in Morris Township, PA. It has been beautifully preserved, but I couldn’t learn much about it, other than it was built in about 1900. Among its many other contents, I particularly liked the old McGuffey’s reading charts.
Albert Gallatin was a big proponent of improving the infrastructure of the fledgling United States. Although many of his ideas never came to pass, he was able to help arrange financing for what became the National Road. That road, now Old Route 40, used to run right across Buffalo Creek on this S-shaped stone bridge. An S-shape was used so that the most structurally weak section, across the stream, could be as short as possible. Covered wagons, stagecoaches, carriages, and pedestrians—and eventually cars, buses, and motorcycles—used this bridge for roughly 100 years, starting in 1818. (Historical bridge photo courtesy of Route40.net. Young woman and carriage courtesy of WV Pics.)
As stagecoaches were driven along the National Road, they needed to stop for fresh horses every 10 to 15 miles. Moreover, the passengers needed refreshments and a place to stay overnight. Levi Wilson’s tavern was one of many “stage landings” that supported travel on the National Road. Levi built his west of Washington, PA in 1818 and operated it for about 20 years before selling to John Miller. Levi’s son married John’s daughter, and the couple made the tavern their residence following John’s death. Although the tavern appears to have been abandoned for many years, a nearby resident told me that a family had lived there as recently as 9 months ago. I hope this historic old property survives.
Claysville was one of a number of towns that sprang up along the National Road. In 1879, local businessman Robert Porter built this mansion as a wedding gift for his fiancé. Sadly, she passed away before they were married. The next bride was more fortunate: Grace Clarke married new owner John Montgomery, Jr. in 1906 and lived here until her death in 1979 at age 97. She left the mansion to the Catholic church next door—which soon wanted to tear it down! Fortunately, the house was already on the National Registry of Historic Places, and the church had to expand southward instead of westward. This Victorian beauty is now the Montgomery Mansion Bed & Breakfast.
I left Claysville and soon crossed into the upper panhandle of West Virginia on Route 67, near Bethany. The road curved, rose, and fell over and around the hills in an entertaining manner. It was considerably better paved than in its stagecoach days (photo courtesy of Bethany College: A Liberal Arts Odyssey).
Alexander Campbell built this home starting in 1793, in what became the town of Bethany. He started the Buffalo Seminary here in 1819. The guest wing shown on the left in the photo was called “The Strangers’ Hall” and was added in 1840. Visitors to this house included future President James A. Garfield, Daniel Webster, Jefferson Davis, and Henry Clay among others. Next to the house was Campbell’s tiny hexagonal brick study.
Alexander Campbell was instrumental in the Restoration Movement, which advocated for a simpler, nondenominational approach to Christianity. He started the Disciples of Christ, which, together with its Church of Christ and other offshoots, is the largest Christian denomination to have been founded in the U.S. Campbell built what is now called the Old Bethany Meeting House in 1829 (it was rebuilt in its current form in 1852) and served as its pastor for many years. Other than the addition of electricity, the church is essentially unchanged since its 1852 rebuilding. The church was renovated in 1986 and is used for special occasions.
The Campbell family, together with many Disciples’ ministers and former Bethany College presidents and faculty, are buried nearby in “God’s Acre” cemetery. The site is surrounded by a 7-foot-tall stone wall (3 feet of which are below ground), which can be crossed via a steep set of steps. (The handrail is a later addition, undoubtedly in response to our litigious society.)
Rev. Campbell founded Bethany College in 1840 and served as its first president. Hibernia Hall is its oldest surviving building and has been a dormitory, sorority, guesthouse, president’s residence, and printshop (for Campbell’s periodicals) at one time or another.
The main entrance to the college is through the Oglebay Gates, a gift from former student Colonel Earl Williams Oglebay of Wheeling in 1910. School tradition has each entering class walk through these gates together upon their arrival—and again when they graduate. (By 1985, the gates were deemed in danger of collapsing on graduating seniors, and a major renovation was completed the next year.)
Bethany’s “Old Main” building is a Gothic architectural masterpiece. It was built in 1858 following a catastrophic fire that destroyed the entire college. By the way, don’t you just hate it when some pesky student wanders into your carefully composed photo? Well okay… I actually didn’t mind at all! Female students were first admitted to Bethany in 1877, with the college advertising “Bethany College, Open to Male and Female on Equal Terms.” (Historical Bethany drawings and photos courtesy of the Historic Campus Architecture Project (HCAP).)
The far side of Old Main was equally handsome (if a little less eye-catching).
Cramblet Hall began life in 1906 as the Carnegie Library, a gift of industrialist and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie. Fifty years later, due to poor construction, termites, and an overload of books, the library was in danger of collapse. A new one was built, and the Carnegie building was repurposed for administrative offices.
I was expecting to find a gas station in Bethany, and the 335i’s warning light had been glowing balefully for the last 35 miles. Despite a large population of students’ cars, there are no stations in town. I resolved to short-shift until I reached Wheeling the next morning. Leaving Bethany at an economical pace, I still had to detour to find the old Point Breeze Mansion. It started out as a family residence and was later acquired by the college, serving as student housing, the Zeta Thau Alpha women’s sorority, and ultimately the Alpha Sigma Pi fraternity house. The mansion apparently did not survive this last use, and it has been sitting boarded up and vacant since 2001. Unless my eyes deceive me, that appears to be a black BMW 335i parked under the port couchère…
With my gas gauge threatening to move even further into uncharted, negative territory, I negotiated winding Route 88 south to my destination for the night: the Oglebay Resort outside of Wheeling. I had been on the road for nearly 12 hours and was very happy to check in, clean up, and get a late dinner at the resort’s excellent Ihlenfeld Dining Room.