Forgotten Tales of Pennsylvania

by Thomas White

  RATTLESNAKE PETE

  In the summer of 1880, a strange man was discovered living in the hills above Erwinna, near the Delaware River. Known as Rattlesnake Pete, the sixty-year-old man had been living in the woods with his dog and pet rattlesnakes for decades. He roamed the wilderness gathering the snakes, of which he had no fear. He claimed that as a child, he and his siblings had a lot of experience dealing with the reptiles, and he learned how to train them and kill them if necessary. The snakes roamed free in the small shack where he lived and never attacked him or his dog.

  BATTLE AT THE CIRCUS

  The Wallace Circus was in Mahony City, Schuylkill County, on May 28, 1891, for one of its usual performances. The circus employees did not anticipate that they would never finish their show that night. Around the time the performance started, a group of boys, whose ages ranged from fourteen to eighteen, tried to force their way into the circus tent. The doormen pushed them back, but the boys stuck around outside and shouted insults. Some of them screamed so loud that they disrupted the performance inside.

  Slowly, more people gathered outside and joined in. By ten o’clock that evening, there was a large crowd. The crowd surged forward to get into the tent, and this time the doormen could not stop them. Soon, a full-scale riot had broken out. Some of the performers were dragged and assaulted. The other circus employees and canvasmen grabbed clubs and began to beat back the crowd. Even that was not enough to hold back the throngs of people, so some of the performers got hold of revolvers and rifles and fired over fifty shots into the crowd. This bought them enough time to flee back to the circus train and load what they could carry. The engineer quickly pulled the train away from the station, and the circus proceeded to the next town. It was unclear exactly how many circus personnel were injured, but seven men who were in the rioting mob were badly injured, two of them critically.

  The town constable attempted to arrest the circus employees before they pulled away. When he and his men attempted to board the train, they found themselves face to face with the barrels of several rifles. They let the train go.

  A BAN ON DANCING

  When the Reverend John Marquis came to the Pigeon Creek Presbyterian Church in the early 1880s, he decided to crack down on one particularly evil vice that had crept into the community. Apparently, some members of the small congregation near Monongahela City were engaged in the sin of dancing. Several stern lectures to the congregation had failed to produce the intended results. The problem was widespread among the young people and even a few married couples. Reverend Marquis decided that it was time to refuse communion to the dancers, and during the service on December 31, 1882, he told anyone who had danced that year to stay in their seats. Seventy-four members of the congregation remained seated. Twelve later repented. The remaining sixty-two were suspended until they recognized the severity of their sin. They had until March 1883 to repent. If they did not, they faced possible expulsion from the congregation. Reverend Marquis’ campaign against dancing even made it into California newspapers. It is not clear how many members returned after March.

  DON’T EAT THE YELLOW SNOW

  In March 1879, a blanket of yellow snow fell on South Bethlehem. (Note that the snow was yellow before it hit the ground.) Samples of the snow were examined by the surgeon general of the U.S. Army. He concluded that the snow was saturated with pollen that had blown north into Pennsylvania.

  SAM SCOTT—PHILADELPHIA’S FAMOUS JUMPER

  Samuel Scott of Philadelphia became famous for his amazing jumping and diving abilities. He performed a variety of daredevil feats in front of audiences in the late 1830s and early 1840s. Scott first began jumping in the navy, where he was known to dive from the masts of ships. He always jumped into water, often from bridges or cliffs. Onlookers would put money in his hat after his performances. Soon, he began traveling up and down the East Coast and even made a dangerous jump from Niagara Falls. As time went on, he added more tricks to his act, performing acrobatics with a noose around his neck. By 1840, he had raised enough money to take his show to England. Unfortunately, neither he nor his act lasted very long in Europe. In early January 1841, he was performing at the Waterloo Bridge when he accidentally hanged himself with the noose with which he was performing. All attempts to revive him failed.

  AIRCRAFT ENGINEER SAW UFO OVER ERIE

  As a research engineer specializing in aircraft instrumentation and magnetism, Victor Didelot was familiar with the way traditional aircraft moved. What he saw above the city of Erie in the summer of 1958, however, was beyond his ability to explain. Didelot saw a silvery white, oval-shaped object perform an incredible maneuver. He said that the object moved horizontally, parallel to the ground, in a 120-degree arc that followed the shoreline of Lake Erie. When it was over the city, it abruptly shot directly up into the sky at what he estimated was three times the speed than that at which it had been traveling previously. Didelot also noted that the object made no sound.

  A STRANGE VISION

  In 1878, an engineer named Bill Sandusky worked for the Philadelphia and Erie Railway. He was known as one of its most skilled and reliable employees. Bill’s friend and fireman on the train Jimmy Green had been killed that year after falling underneath the train while saving the life of a young child. Sandusky was assigned a new fireman—a strange young man named George Watkins.

  None of the other engineers knew where Watkins was from. He had only been working for the railroad for a few months. Watkins was about twenty-two years old but looked much older. Sandusky described him as tall and lean, with a dark complexion and dark, sunken eyes. Most of the railroad men felt uneasy under Watkins’s gaze and did not look him in the eyes.

  After about a month, Watkins was making Sandusky so uneasy that the engineer asked the superintendent for a new fireman. His request was refused because Watkins had been doing his job well, and there was no reason to transfer him. Then something strange happened one day while the train was passing through a wooded area of McKean County. Sandusky happened to look back at Watkins, who seemed to be staring at him intently. As the young man turned toward the outside scenery, so did Sandusky. Suddenly, the trees were gone, and there was a vision of a small town on a large flat area. He saw an old man riding toward the town on a horse. A young man stepped out from behind a tree and shot the man on the horse. The old man fell to the ground, clutching his chest. The murderer shot him two more times while he was down. Then the vision ended and the trees reappeared.

  Sandusky turned back toward Watkins in shock. Watkins had apparently not seen the vision, so Sandusky described it in detail. As he did, Watkins grew pale and blurted out, “My God! There is no escape!” He jumped from the train and disappeared into the woods. Sandusky stopped the train to find him but had no success. Watkins never returned to work.

  A few months later, Sandusky was on vacation in Cincinnati when he picked up the morning paper. He read about a man named Walters who was going to be executed across the Ohio River in Kentucky for shooting and robbing his uncle six years earlier. For some reason, the story made Sandusky think about the vision he had on the train, so he went over to Kentucky to see if he could get a look at the killer. He was allowed to look into the murderer’s cell. It was the man he had known as George Watkins. Sandusky had seen a vision of him committing the crime. After Watkins/Walters jumped off the train, he had returned to Kentucky to confess. He was executed three days after Sandusky’s visit.

  THE HEADLESS FRENCHMAN

  Twin Sisters Hollow in Potters County is allegedly haunted by the ghost of a headless Frenchman. According to the legend, the unfortunate man was part of the expedition led by Etienne Brule that explored parts of North America in the early 1600s. The Frenchman was ambushed by hostile Indians (possibly while looking for silver), and his head was cut off. His ghost can be seen walking under the full moon in October, with his severed head held under his arm.

  THE WORLD WILL END ON APRIL 1, 1940

  That is what a press release from
the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia said on March 31, 1940. The release claimed that the astronomers at the institute guaranteed that it was no April Fools’ joke and the world would come to an end at 3:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time the very next day. The message went on to say that confirmation of the announcement could be obtained from the director of the Fels Planetarium. The press release might have gone relatively unnoticed, but it was broadcast over the air by radio stations. The station and the Franklin Institute were bombarded with panicked inquiries. The institute announced that it had made no such prediction and sent out no official press release. It was soon discovered that William Castellini, who was involved with public relations at the institute, sent out the fake press release to publicize an upcoming lecture that was going to discuss ways in which the world might end. The institute did not find his prank amusing and fired him.

  THE FIRST CREMATORY IN THE UNITED STATES

  Dr. Francis J. LeMoyne was a prominent physician in the city of Washington, Washington County, throughout the mid-1800s. LeMoyne became convinced that local burial practices were causing some of the illnesses that he was treating. He believed that the decomposing bodies and the illnesses that they contained were leeching into the soil and contaminating local water supplies. He offered the local cemetery money to construct a crematory on its property, but the offer was rejected outright because of the unpopularity of cremation. Not to be deterred, he constructed his own crematory in 1876 on Gallow’s Hill for a cost of $1,500. He designed the “oven” himself so that the bodies would not be exposed directly to the flames. LeMoyne was not just the owner—he was also a client. His body was the third to be cremated in the building in 1879. The building still exists and is maintained by the Washington County Historical Society.

  A DYNAMITE EXPLOSION

  In March 1883, four workers attempted to thaw frozen dynamite in Dead Man’s Hollow along the Youghiogheny River in Allegheny County. The men were working at a stone quarry run by George Fleming. The four men were to continue the blasting that had been carried out by the previous shift. The foreman was David Henninger, and he was helped by his brother George, Noble Gilkey and an unidentified black man. As they were preparing to work, they discovered that the dynamite cartridges had frozen, so they built a small fire and placed the explosives a few feet away to thaw. This was not the best idea. The men also took the opportunity to warm their hands near the fire.

  After a few minutes, the dynamite exploded. The Henningers, who were standing closest to the dynamite, were torn to pieces, and David died instantly. George lingered for a short time before dying. The unidentified black man sustained severe wounds and burns and was not expected to recover. Gilkey was severely burned on parts of his body, but it was thought that he stood the best chance of recovery. Luckily, Gilkey’s house was within sight of the accident, so help was summoned immediately.

  A GANG ATTACKS A CHURCH

  In March 1887, the Clarion County Jail released Sam Schnell after he served a six-month sentence for various crimes. He returned to Turkey City and celebrated with his fellow ruffians, including several members of the McCleary family. The group became extremely intoxicated and decided to settle some old scores. They staggered off to the local Methodist church. The Reverend J.H. Laverty was hosting a revival meeting, and he was in the middle of the service when the gang forced its way in and caused a disturbance. D.H. McLaughlin, one of the trustees of the church and a critic of the McClearys, got up and attempted to force the men out. They responded by knocking him to the ground and repeatedly kicking and beating him. The rest of the congregation fled out the windows.

  When McLaughlin was almost unconscious, the gang proceeded to smash the pews and windows. Then it went outside and destroyed a carriage parked nearby. When McLaughlin recovered, he went to the police, and arrest warrants were issued for the gang. The only member of the gang who was caught right away was a man named Lincoln Giger. The McClearys escaped to wreak havoc another day.

  A PIG-STEALING BEAR

  The St. Louis Globe-Democrat ran a story in 1886 about a pig-stealing bear in Clinton Township, Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, it failed to mention which Clinton Township. The story is interesting nonetheless. Hiram Cole and his helper, Silas Olmstead, were clearing and burning brush on Cole’s farm one day when Cole’s twelve-year-old son came running over excitedly. He told them that a bear had broken into the pig pen and was leaving with one of the young pigs. The men ran quickly to the yard, but they saw no pigs there. They did, however, hear squeals and noises coming from the orchard. When they reached the orchard, the men saw that the sow and her litter were chasing after the bear squealing. One of the young pigs was still clutched in its mouth.

  The men grabbed some clubs and a wooden fence rail and pursued the bear. In the meantime, it had climbed another fence, so the sow and the other young pigs could no longer follow it. The farmer and his helper ran a little ahead of the fleeing bear. The men then stuck the rail in front of its legs and tripped it. The bear tumbled to the ground and struggled to get up while holding the now dead pig in its mouth. Cole and Olmstead then proceeded to trip the bear several more times. It became enraged, but the men continued to knock it down every few steps. When it charged them, the men were quick enough to move the rail and trip it again. Cole finally thrust a knife into its throat after it fell the final time. The men backed up quickly, and the bear stumbled around and roared. Cole had struck an artery, and the bear was dead in a few minutes. Cole paid Olmstead an extra twenty dollars for battling the bear with him. The bear’s skin was made into a sleigh robe for Cole’s daughter.

  THE PHANTOM BOATMAN

  In 1784, a story spread that a ghostly boatman was seen traveling at midnight on the Schuylkill River. The living skeleton was supposedly sighted near Fairmont Ferry. The story spread quickly, but it turned out to have been entirely fabricated. A young couple had decided to play a practical joke on their neighbors.

  THE COLLAPSE OF THE AUSTIN DAM

  The fifty-foot-high Austin Dam was constructed in the Freeman Run Valley in Potter County in 1910. It was built to provide water for the Bayless Pulp and Paper Mill, which had been constructed in the valley in 1900. The mill had begun to suffer water shortages because of seasonal conditions, so a dam was necessary to maintain the supply. George Bayless hired civil engineer T. Chalkey Hatton to assist with the construction. When it came time to figure out expenses, Bayless often ignored the recommendations of Hatton and opted for cheaper methods of construction. The results would be tragic.

  By January 1910, the dam was severely bulging because of an early thaw. The concrete had cracked, and dynamite had to be used to blast away part of the dam because no overflow had been installed. Needless to say, the situation made both the workers in the mill and the people in the town of Austin uneasy.

  On September 30 of the following year, tragedy struck. It was Saturday, and the town was full of shoppers and people attending political events for the upcoming elections. Some people heard the cracking and tried to alert the town. The dam finally gave way, sending water and huge pieces of debris crashing through the valley. A cattle fence was pushed along with the water, ensnaring helpless victims. Many were crushed by huge pieces of stone and trees. One woman, whose leg was crushed under a boulder, pleaded with the men nearby to cut off her leg to save her. Eventually, a Polish immigrant took an axe and freed her, carrying her to the hospital. Houses were torn to pieces. Some witnesses described the initial wall of water as being fifty feet high.

  When it was over, seventy-eight people were dead. Hundreds of others were injured. The paper mill and much of the town was destroyed. At the time, the losses were estimated at $10 million. The state did not deliver any disaster assistance. Relief work was carried out entirely by volunteers. The paper mill was eventually rebuilt with a new dam. The mill burned to the ground in 1933. The second dam collapsed in 1942, causing much less destruction than the first.

  THE FATE OF Le Griffon

  The Fren
ch explorer La Salle charted much of the interior of the United States during the late 1600s. He constructed his boat, Le Griffon, in the winter of 1678–79 so that he could explore the Great Lakes. La Salle used the boat to travel from Niagara River to Lake Michigan, making stops along the way. Later that year, when La Salle was not onboard, the ship was said to be lost in a storm on Lake Huron. La Salle suspected that some of his men had scuttled the ship and made off with his trading goods. There was no conclusive evidence as to what happened to the ship. It is called the holy grail of Great Lakes shipwrecks.

  At least a handful of people in northwestern Pennsylvania believed that they knew the location of the legendary vessel. In the swamps near Pymatuning, a story was passed down about Le Griffon until the 1930s. A few residents claimed that the remains of a very old ship could be found hidden in the swamps. Though the wood was rotting, it supposedly had some brass ornamentation. The people who recounted the tale believed that the old boat was in fact La Salle’s missing ship.

  By the time a serious investigation could occur, the remains could no longer be located. It was unlikely that Le Griffon ended up in the swamp, even if it had been stolen. The actual boat may have been discovered recently in Lake Michigan, but this has yet to be confirmed.

  THE SIREN OF LOYALSOCK CREEK

  Sometime during the mid-1800s, an Indian woman was supposedly murdered by a raftsman on Loyalsock Creek in Lycoming County. Her name was said to be Cicely Powderhorn, and she was of Mingo descent. Every evening, Cicely met her lover, William, on the large rocks near the creek. While she waited, she would sing beautiful songs that were said to make even the forest become quiet. She would watch raftsmen float past with their goods. They all enjoyed her singing, except one. One day, William was late, and an envious raftsman lodged his raft near the rock and approached her. He attempted to force himself on her, but she fought back. The enraged raftsman grabbed her around the throat and choked her to death.