Tales from the Whiskey Rebellion

By Scott Beveridge

Some of the better stories are hidden between the lines of David Froman’s eyewitness account of the infamous Whiskey Rebellion in the late 18th century in southwestern Pennsylvania.

Told in his memoirs, “Sim Greene and Tom the Tinker’s Men,” they reveal wonderful tidbits about the pioneers who settled the Monongahela River valley.

Froman had no idea steel would someday become king there when he first laid his eyes upon the lush forests in his new home. Later, some of his companions would encounter killer pirates downriver on the Ohio River while they traded their goods. Meanwhile, the faithful in these backwoods gathered for endless hours at tent revivals to worship the Lord, while others set about to exploit the natural resources they were discovering.

This author penned the book in a flowery prose, beginning with his following a group over the Allegheny Mountains in 1788 so he could establish the first schoolhouse in Elizabeth, the only town between Brownsville and Pittsburgh that had an established a system of streets at the time.

“Away it stretched until in the misty distance it seemed to merge with some clouds lying low along the western horizon,” he wrote about his first glimpses of the rolling green hills of America’s early wild west. “Long we stood on this farthest rampart of the great Appalachian chain feasting our eyes and feeling the thrilling power of the landscape.”

His party reached its destination from Philadelphia, having witnessed the migration of pack squirrels, averted a mountain lion attack and survived a fast-sweeping forest fire by hugging close to a small stream. He obviously had a fascination for the main character, Sim Greene, a colorful hunter, trapper and Revolutionary War hero who seemed to play a minor role in the tax revolt that became the first major uprising against the United States.

While Froman admitted that rebellion of President George Washington’s tax on Monongahela rye whiskey to pay down debt from the American Revolutionary War was dead wrong, his book leads one to believe he kept his opinions to himself while it took place because he was a good friend of the rebels. Had he been brave enough to speak out against the movement when it was in full force, the anarchists would have surely tarred and feathered him rather than permit him to tag along to their meetings and demonstrations. They had drawn a bitter line between their ranks and those who supported the new government.

While historians have long argued over whether the notorious Tom the Tinker was an individual or the character represented a group of protestors, Froman identified him with certainty as John Hollcroft of the Finleyville area. The farmer sneaked under the cover of night to destroy the whiskey stills of those who submitted to the tax, or posted warnings about how he planned to retaliate against the tax collectors.

After the tax fight was quelled, the men of Elizabeth built from a wood a marvelous schooner capable of carrying 250 tons of local goods down the Mon to New Orleans. Of course the ship, the Monongahela Farmer, was christened with a bottle of local rye whiskey and it completed its maiden voyage.

Froman wrote the book on his deathbed, and requested it to be published 50 years after his death so not to embarrass the farmers who fought the tax or any of their immediate heirs.

In the end, he resurrected the legacy of a friend – Harold Harden - who fled Elizabeth under the threat of arrest by U.S. marshals for his alleged participation in a tax riot. A rumor followed Harden’s escape that he had joined up with the pirates who hid out in a place called Cave-in-Rock that contained the many skulls of their victims. But, Froman eventually reported that the pirate under suspicion back home was actually the man's long-lost twin brother. The good brother, alas, had become a devout minister.

That tale left me wondering if this book, while it was hard to put down after all these years, should have been classified in bold print as a piece of nonfiction.

Morgantown afternoon

Happy 170th birthday obscure little bridge

Folks in a badly-decaying town in the upper reaches of the Monongahela River are planning a party for an historic bridge that has an identity crisis. This story, below, about its noble importance appeared last week in the Observer-Reporter, Washington, Pa.

Shucks, I feel the need to be there.

By Scott Beveridge

BROWNSVILLE, Pa. – An outsider driving through downtown Brownsville would never know that under the pavement rests one of the most important engineering accomplishments in America.

The 170-year-old Dunlap’s Creek Bridge, the nation’s first cast iron span, is there – hidden below deteriorating building foundations and behind tall weeds hugging the National Road in southwestern Pennsylvania.

“It has the same designation as the Eiffel Tower and you wouldn’t even know it was there,” said Marc Henshaw, a Brownsville archaeologist who admires the old bridge.

The 80-foot-long span even rates up there with the Statue of Liberty, according to the American Society of Materials International, which designated all three structures landmarks because each represents a breakthrough in technology.

Brownsville was selected for the bridge experiment because the area had been located on a rich iron seam, which fed two local foundries that produced quality work, Henshaw said.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers contracted with the Herbertson Foundry in Brownsville to cast the bridge from 140 tons of pig iron purchased in Portsmouth, Ohio.

Vulcan Iron and Machine Works, owned by John Snowden, produced the wrought iron railings, according to the Historic American Engineering Record on file at the Brownsville Heritage Center.

Corps Capt. Richard Delafield opted to use cast iron because the local sandstone was not strong enough to “resist the thrust of the arch” needed to span the creek.

He didn’t want to use wood, either, because of the threat of fire and timber decay, the record shows.

It amazes Henshaw that the bridge has survived so many years of heavy automobile traffic because its engineers never imaged such vehicles would exist when they designed the structure.

The bridge probably survived because it was built with high-quality iron that remained as pure in 1921 as what could be purchased new at the time, the HAER report indicates.

By all indications, the iron is still in good condition, said Don Herbert, a bridge engineer at the state Department of Transportation, which will build new sidewalks on the span this summer.

Henshaw said the bridge is important because it “represents an achievement of the fledgling industrialization and technological innovation” in the 1830s.

The span also is important to Brownsville because it was designed, patterned and built by local residents, he said.

If only people could see it, said Norma Ryan, a volunteer director for the Brownsville Area Revitalization Corp., which hopes to demolish the foundations beside the bridge and create a park there.

“To this day, most people think it’s the Inter-county Bridge that joins Fayette and Washington counties,” Ryan said, referring to the nearby gray steel arched bridge crossing the Monongahela River.

BARC will hold the celebration from noon to 3 p.m. July 4. Space is available for vendors. For information, call 724-785-9331 or 412-969-6779, or e-mail info@barcpa.org

Periodic postcard

The old John McKean mansion at Third Street and Lincoln Avenue in Charleroi, Pa. (Courtesy of Charleroi Area Historical Society)

A great place to shoot the bull, then buy a pig

Art Gatts of Washington, left, sells tack and saddles from his pickup truck at the flea market outside a Greene County, Pa., auction parking lot. Friends like Albert Statler of Core, W.Va., stop by to swap stories. (Jack Graham/O-R)

By Colleen Nelson

WEST WAYNESBURG, Pa. – Trucks loaded with bawling livestock pull through to the weighing station, leaving deep tire tracks in the gravel and grass of the parking lot.

Vendors display their wares while standing beside their vehicles as shoppers pore over tools, toys, plants and odds and ends. Tables are loaded with boxes of fresh produce, and saddles and tack decorate tailgates at this rural flea market in West Waynesburg, Pa.

The area in front of the old wooden building with the silver roof and its name painted in big block letters on the side is filled.

And never mind the gathering clouds. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, it's also auction day at the Pennsylvania Livestock Auction.

Every Thursday, this piece of rural history on the hoof comes alive as it has since the 1930s. That's when the narrow-gauge railroad stopped running between Waynesburg and Washington and trucks and auctions became the way to do business. Rich in tradition and touched with the color of a carnival, the auction continues to draw farmers, livestock buyers, impulse shoppers and those who just stop by for a good home-cooked meal.

"A lot of people come here to eat – businessmen, lawyers, office workers from uptown. We get plenty of take outs, too," waitress Alicia Harry said, pausing by the stout wooden steps that lead to the cozy upstairs restaurant where diners can look down on the auction ring.

A generous half moon tier of wooden benches is where the bidders sit, eyes intent on the action in the ring. The bidding moves to the staccato of the auctioneer's voice. Nodding heads and nearly invisible gestures bring the bidding to an end in record time as animal after animal moves through one gate and out the other. Still, there's always
time to take a break, go upstairs for coffee or lunch and still not miss the animal you've been waiting for.

"You can get a four-course meal for $5.50 and it's all homemade. Every week there's a different special. This week it's creamed turkey over biscuits. When we have fried chicken you can't get in the door," Harry said.

Under the steps, stacks of boxes of farm-fresh eggs and other miscellaneous items wait to be the first lot of products to get the auction day started at noon.

Beyond the steps, long rows of stalls hold the day's assortment of stock to be sold – heifer calves and steers, cows and bulls, ponies, mules, goats, sheep and horses. Highland cattle, llamas, emus, even potbellied pigs make the occasional appearance, but in Greene County, well-proportioned beef cattle, especially black angus, and Hereford crosses are what attract farmers and buyers to the sale ring.

Outside, there are cages of chickens, ducks and rabbits. Horse traders saddle up to put on a show for those who will be bidding later.

"Horses go anywhere from $5 to $500 depending on their age and how well broke they are," owner and veteran auctioneer Joe Friend said, catching an early helping of cornbread and beans and all the fixings before the noon rush.

A big man with an easy smile, Friend also owns auctions in Grantsville and Accident, Md. He bought the Waynesburg business in 1971 and runs them all with the help of his family and an extended family of loyal employees who make the food, balance the books and manage all those animals for sale.

"I've been selling since 1958. My son, Joe Junior, was born and raised in the business. He does the auctioning now, but I can still sell cattle when they need me to. It's a specialty business and it takes awhile to hear what the auctioneer is saying. You learn from being around and listening," Friend said.

His advice to would-be buyers: "Your eyes are your marketplace, your pocketbook is your guide."

The long wooden building started life as the Waynesburg Sheet, Tin and Forge Mills in 1900. A group of local investors, led by Belgium horse breeder and auctioneer Charles Orndorf, bought the site and turned it into a livestock auction in 1936.

Old timers remember "Charley" as a dapper man who used a cane to gesture at the auction podium.

"I hung out with my granddad a lot when I was a kid. He gave up auctioning in 1980 when I was 12. There used to be auctions in Morgantown, Moundsville, Uniontown and West Alexander, and I remember going with him to Scenery Hill. Now only Waynesburg and Eighty Four are left," grandson Corbly Orndorf said. "Buyers come in and buy calves and ship them to feed lots in the Midwest. It's cheaper to ship the cattle than haul the grain. There used to be a wool house in Waynesburg, too, but that's gone now. When there were more dairies, there were always a lot of calves in the spring. But times have changed and auctions change with the times."

Beef cattle now outnumber sheep dotting the hillsides, and the numbers of farmers are declining. But coming to town for auction day is still a powerful draw, even for those who can no longer climb the stairs to dine with friends.

"This pie is good!" retired auction secretary Mildred Phillips declared, sampling the apple pie brought fresh from the auction restaurant to her kitchen table just outside town and just in time for lunch. "When I worked there in the 1950s I baked 25 pies on Wednesday, filled my cream pies on Thursday morning and was at work by 9 a.m. I used to make an apricot pie for George Conners every week. Those were long days and we stayed until the books balanced, even if it took all night!"

Computers have made keeping track of every sale a little easier, but the auction office, upstairs and next door to the restaurant, bustles with activity from the time Joe's sister, Patty Friend, arrives at 6:30 a.m. to greet the milkman until the last animal is loaded and on its way and the last slip is tallied.

Out-of-towners should keep a sharp eye out for the turnoff when on Route 21 in West Waynesburg. Just past Wayne Lumber is the entrance to a bustling, colorful past that will be there as long as there are animals to be sold to the highest bidder.

(Colleen Nelson is freelance writer and artist in Holbrook, Pa. She teachers creative writing at Bowlby Library in Waynesburg, Pa. Reprinted from Living in Greene County magazine, a publication of the Observer-Reporter)

HOBY kids for literacy

Pennsylvania high school students attending the Hugh O'Brian Youth Leadership summer program at Washington & Jefferson College perform their community service today by painting the Washington County Literacy Council office in Citizens Library.

Some of the 25 polite, over-achieving kids who reached out to help this nonprofit also stuffed book bags it gives to each new mother at Washington Hospital.