USA > Pennsylvania > Erie County > A twentieth century history of Erie County, Pennsylvania : a narrative account of its historic progress, its people, and its principal interests, Volume I > Part 23
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There still remains on Seventh street west of Cascade, a three-story frame dwelling house that was the home of the superintendent, and it is still sound and in service for residence purposes. At the time the Scott Block was built in 1874-5 the walnut lumber used for the casings and fine finishing of the interior was obtained from the timbers of the old mill by the builders, Constable & Ramsey.
The importance of an industry to the community in which it is placed is not always measured by its size. This fact would seem to be established by what is recorded of the Blancon mill. The Erie of that time boasted a population of 3,500 or thereabouts, but it had no perceptible influence upon the town to have the mill that included a most unusual number of industries suddenly removed. There were no failures of business re- corded, nor was the growth of the place retarded. Business in the city proper continued much as it had previously done. And yet it is a matter of note that in every particular branch covered by the French enterprise it easily led all others. Old citizens declare that the product of its dis- tillery more than doubled that on Eleventh street, near German, in which the Reeds were interested. It was also true that in its other branches it was a leader. Its business, however, was with the world outside of Erie. Its raw material, save the timber cut in the adjacent forests, was brought from a distance, and its finished products found markets elsewhere. There- fore, save the wages paid to its operatives, little of the money the mill earned was distributed in Erie. For that reason the discontinuance of the business of the mill of many industries caused only a temporary and not very noticeable shock to the community.
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Perhaps this was due to the fact that, doubtlessly stimulated by the example of the Frenchmen, new industries along much the same line, were started here. For this, credit might be due to M. Blancon. This is true, however, of the new industries: They had more intimate relation with the place than the other had. There was the Reed flouring mill, for ex- ample, that about this time was in its most flourishing condition. That, built in 1815, stood near Fifth and Parade streets, and obtained its power from the water of Mill creek. It was one of the oldest, and, for a num- ber of years, was one of the most productive of the many mills that bor- dered that stream. That mill stood until the early seventies, though it had been abandoned for some years before it finally yielded place for the march of progress.
The success of the steam saw-mill on Cascade street prompted a simi- lar enterprise on the part of the Reeds. That mill, however, was located beyond the city limits, out to the east, at or about the Downing farm. In those days there existed a beaver dam a short distance north of the Buffalo road. The water was furnished by the little stream that flows be- tween the Downing property and Schaal's, and, long after the animals that had constructed it were extinct the pond impounded by the dam re- mained and was a familiar feature of the landscape. It was alongside this beaver dam, or pond, that the new steam saw-mill was built, and for many years it did a prosperous business. That, of course, was before the time of the railroad, but evidences of the existence of that mill remained until recently in the heaps of sawdust, that, though nearly covered by vegetation, were still plainly to be seen. It is doubtful whether, at this late day, any traces of the ancient beaver dam and pond can be found, but there are people still living who remember it very well. It was an ad- mirable site for a saw-mill, as there was water enough to meet all the requirements, and a splendid forest, rich in valuable timber trees. A little of this forest remains to this day, though it is greatly altered in its original character.
These industries, while of great benefit to the growing town of Erie, were. nevertheless, hardly entitled to the distinction of being rated as city- builders, though of course they contributed their mite.
It is early in the morning, the beginning of June, thirty-five years ago, and the sun has just looked over the tops of the somewhat lofty hills upon the left of the roadway over which we are passing. To the right there is a thicket of young beeches clad in soft foliage of delicate green, choicest of ali the spring tints. Just beyond a stream glides smoothly down, for its mur- muring is only of the gentlest sort as the melodious sound of its plashing among the pebbles, where the little rapid is formed by the narrowing channel, comes modulated through the fringe of blue beech and alders that stand guard over the laughing water; and just beyond rises. almost
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perpendicular, a scaur of slaty soapstone rock that bears upon its summit a crown of sombre hemlock spruce.
Overhead, upon the wide-stretching limb of a giant liriodendron that seems as though extending a hand of benediction over the passing way- farer, a wood thrush has take his position and is pouring forth the ecsta- sies of his matin hymn, a melody that finds in every heart responsive to nature, an answering echo.
Between the steep wooded hill upon the left, and the beechen thicket upon the right, under the station of the singing thrush, we pass as through a massive portal, and, crossing a rustic bridge, have entered the Happy Valley. Do not search for it upon the map, for you will not find it; as well look for the giant tulip-tree, in which the thrush is singing, upon the charted record. It is not there. And yet the Happy Valley is reality-a delightful reality ; for it is a joy to visit its seclusion, to note its multitud- inous charms, its quiet industry and abundant content on this early summer morning.
As we cross the bridge we note the beginnings of the charming little community, for directly before us there rises the steep slope of a some- what lofty hill-side, covered to its summit with apple trees in bloom, a cloud of blush-white blossoms. Upon the left hand can be seen the waters of the creek flowing down past the high clay bluff, gleaming in the sun, its left bank bordered with a row of soldierly Lombardy poplars, and close hy, a little old mill. Just opposite there is a cottage painted white and nearly buried in the foliage of the prune trees and the ornamental shrub- bery.
We pass along, and observe just beyond the cottage, a road that leads up out of the valley. It is the Shunpike, romantically located and rurally rough, but its leafy canopy has ever been a favorite haunt of the thrush. The road we are pursuing bends to the left where the Shunpike joins it, and part way up the hill, embowered in the blooming apple trees there is another white cottage from the chimney of which ascends the light blue smoke indicating preparations for the early morning meal. Now the road winds easterly and then southerly ; modest, but substantial homes upon our left, the orchard-planted hill upon the right, for perhaps a furlong; then the hillside changes its aspect, forest trees taking the place of those laden with the pink-white promises of fruitage. Opposite there is now a long row of stately Lombardy poplars that stand guard between the road side and the stretch of placid water- the slack-water above the mill-dam. Across, clothed with oaks and chestnut, beech and hemlock spruce, with undergrowth of dogwood and hornbeam and bramble, the steep hillside rises up from the water. The margin of the pond is decorated with clumps of blue violets and through the openings in the shrubbery on the hill may be seen, here and there, a patch of trilliums or cardamines ; a bell flower or an anemone. The kingfisher shoots across the surface of the water crying his rattle-
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like call; from the orchard we hear the song of the robin and the oriole ; borne over from the meadows on the hilltop by the morning breeze comes the liquid melody of the bobolink.
Now we have reached the end of the column of stately poplars and are about to cross another bridge, but liere the road forks. To the right it passes a large structure set into the side-hill, (a brewery it is), and proceeds in a winding course up the side of the hill until it leads out along a branch of the main streanı.
To the left the road passes over the creek and upon either side there are habitations and industries. On the right there stands a large grist mill, and at a short distance up stream a saw mill. Opposite on the east side of the road and at the base of another orchard-covered hill-side, is located a spacious tavern, shaded by two large pine trees, and, on either flank there are dwellings of more modest proportions. Near by on the other side side of the road are to be seen the large stables and the horse- sheds that are part of the establishment of the wayside caravansary. Beyond, the road proceeds across another bridge and then passes up out of the valley on its way toward the ancient town of Waterford.
This was the Happy Valley of the end of the sixties. It was a place of industry and thrift. Its population numbered forty souls ; its indus- tries the manufacture of woolen cloth, the grinding of corn and wheat ; the brewing of beer and the manufacture of lumber and shingles. Its name, bestowed in a spirit of facetiousness, was, nevertheless, apt enough to have been taken seriously. Peace and plenty and contentment reigned there and thrift and industry characterized its people ; its name was not a misnomer.
But things are changed now in the Happy Valley. After forty years the aspect of the place is vastly different. You will not find the grist mill there-its only relic is the deep pool below the old water-wheel, grown up in summer with cat-tail flags and bordered with elders and osier willows. The sawmill long ago disappeared, become a ruin through neg- lect. The brewer's business failed and after a time the disused building was destroyed by fire. Even the mill pond is no longer to be seen. In its stead there is a deep cut made by the spring and fall freshets, and even the guardian poplars have been ruthlessly attacked. The trim and tidy appearance of the hamlet ; the pretty old-fashioned gardens of roses and lilies, hollyhocks and sweet williams, June pinks and larkspurs, are un- cared-for now. No longer are there flocks of doves to be seen circling about ; the grist mill and the brewery that fed them are now gone. Even the dwellings are not all occupied.
The Happy Valley-happy valley still-though not set down on any map or chart of Erie county by any distinctive name or title, is not difficult to find. It is located just beyond Glenwood Park, on the old Waterford plank road (which is the extension of State street), and extends from the old woolen mill property up to the old Warden tavern,
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a distance of a scant half mile. It is one of the most charming valley spots in Erie county, and, contiguous to Glenwood Park, ought to be bought and added to it, for its possibilities in the hands of a landscape engineer are great.
Nearly everyone who drives out into the country for pleasure ; many who have gone out awheel, know this hamlet, though much reduced from its best estate, yet charming still.
But some details about it in the days of its prosperity and the statement of some of the causes that brought about its decay are in place. Perhaps they will be found entertaining-possibly instructive.
The last one of the original industries of the Happy Valley to dis- appear was the old woolen factory, owned for forty years by Jacob Albrecht. It occupied its place by the portals of the Happy Valley for half a century, having been built by John Jewett in 1853. Mr. Jewett operated it for ten years, but only on a small scale, having but a single loom.
In 1863 Jacob Albrecht took the mill. He was a practiced hand at the business of spinning and weaving; he was young, industrious and thrifty. Moreover he was ambitious. There seemed to be here a good opening for the practiced weaver. The place was upon a main road from the country and was near the city. Though he possessed but little capital he had unbounded faith in his abilities, and possessed a splendid stock of energy. So he contracted to purchase the mill and the acres and priv- ileges that went with it. When he began business the mill contained but a single loom. In a short time more machinery was needed. At Yankee- town, which was about three miles up the stream, near Belle Valley, there was another woolen mill, and Mr. Albrecht, learning that the Gun- nisons, who owned it, had decided to engage in the manufacture of wooden pumps, bought the looms and other machinery, so that in time the mill at Happy Valley was operating four looms, one a power machine, the others operated by hand. There was other machinery as well: his spinning jacks and jennies, that numbered many spindles, and a complete outfit of all that was necessary. He gave steady employment to seven hands, and turned out a considerable variety of goods, flannels, blankets, tweeds and such.
But he was not making swift progress financially, because untoward circumstances came upon him. More than once his dam was washed out, and the interest to pay made a hole in his profits. Then in 1873 came the great panic, and the bottom fell completely out of his business. For a time there was nothing doing. However, he kept up his courage and renewed his industry, eking out a meagre living in the struggle that the conditions of business brought about. And so he continued for twenty years longer, until the fateful year of 1893 came and visited him with dire disaster.
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At this time his was the only surviving industry of all that had made the Happy Valley a busy hive. One after another those farther up stream had withdrawn from the field. He was alone, and his factory, though the worse for wear, and his machinery of ancient pattern, was yet serviceable. But there came a visitation in the night that all but ruined the last of the Happy Valley's industries. It was in May, 1893, and Mr. Albrecht relates his experience in a manner that has something of the dramatic in the method of its telling :
"I could hear the rain," he said, "and the roar of the rushing water ; but it was dark. There was no moon, so I could see nothing. When the morning came we hurriedly dressed and as soon as the light broke we were eagerly looking for the creek. We saw with surprise and some fear that the water filled all the valley above and, running across the road, extended up to within a few feet of our door-step"-his home is the white cottage that stood opposite the mill.
"Soon it became light enough so we could see that there was a heap of timber of all kinds jammed against the bridge, and the culvert of the tail race from the mill was clogged. The water was running in a swift torrent across the road and cutting deep gullies in it. At length with a noise of awful rending the bridge let go and went away down stream with all the mass of timbers following; the stone abutments went with the bridge; and the road itself seemed to be going with it, and through the yawning chasm a torrent nineteen feet in depth swept re- sistless."
It covered all the lower ground. It poured through the lower story of his mill, pushing one side in and the other side out, and swept it clean. The spinning jenny, the mill wheel, everything fixed or movable that the lower story contained was gone in a moment's time. Even the floor went when the other contents were carried away, and Mr. Albrecht expected at any time to see the old factory that had stood in that spot for forty years, yield to the pressure and go sailing down stream. But it did not ; it stood fast.
After a time the worst of the flood was over and there was possible a tour of inspection. The extent of the damage to Mr. Albrecht was appalling. Not only had he lost the most important part of his power supply in the destruction of the water wheel and its connections, but his dam was wiped out of existence. Not even a vestige of it remained. It is one of the last, possibly the very last, of the woolen factories of Erie county.
There was a time when the woolen industries of this country were of great importance, and included some mills of almost mammoth propor- tions-they were, at least, so for the period of their existence. This was true of the Grimshaw mill at North East. and the Flynt and Brewster mills in Erie : the Cass mill on Six-Mile creek in South Harborcreek, and
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the Thornton mills were all sizeable plants, much larger than that out in the Happy Valley.
At the time Mr. Albrecht's mill was in the hey-day of its existence there were thirteen mills manufacturing cloth in Erie county. There were two in North East township, one besides the Grimshaw mill; one at Waterford, one at Wattsburg, one at Mckean, two in Fairview, one at Girard, one at Albion, two in Harborcreek, one or probably two, in Springfield, and the Albrecht mill in Millcreek-all these without taking account of the mill at Yankeetown. Of all these mills there is not today a single one in operation. The Grimshaw mill was destroyed by fire many years ago, and never rebuilt. When Mr. Grimshaw collected his insurance of $20,000 he decided not to invest in what his judgment taught him to be a waning industry as it is conducted here. He invested in a farm and his production of wool was confined to the fleeces stripped from his flocks of sheep.
The most persistent of the weavers were the Thorntons at Albion and Fairview. They made excellent goods, their flannels and blankets being among the finest and most substantial obtainable anywhere. But this branch of textile industry no longer thrives in Erie county.
But we must return to the Happy Valley. There were other features of it worthy of note that have not been touched upon. That grist mill that stood at the upper end of the hamlet was built in 1802, and was one of the first mills erected in Erie county. It was built by a man named Butt, and the saw-mill that stood a short distance farther up stream was part of the same enterprise. Later it was owned by Mr. Hershey and later yet by H. Scheloski. It was known as the Erie County mill and was still standing in the early eighties. Now all that marks its former location is the deep circular pool into which the water poured from its driving wheel.
Standing against the western hillside-indeed, built into it-for many years there stood a brewery. That particular site was chosen because of two strong springs of pure water that poured out of the hill. The brewery was built in 1864 by the Knolls, of Erie. It was a well planned establishment, extensive cellars having been excavated into the hill, and Mr. Knoll, who built it, had been connected with the Erie County mill for some time. The real cause of the failure of that brewery's business is not known, but it came into straightened circum- stances. In its distress old John Gelchesheimer, who used to keep a little beer hall on Peach Street, near Twentieth, and his son-in-law, Mr. Haas, became interested in it, but it went out of business about 1880, and some time afterwards was burned. It is probable that, like the grist mill on the other side of the creek, it was found that the state of competition without the transportation facilities enjoyed by the mills near the rail- road operated to its disadvantage. It is also hinted that rumors of a rail-
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road to pass up Mill Creek valley and right through the property of one of these helped to decide the question in favor of abandoning business. At the present time the Glenwood Wine Co. uses the cellars of the old brewery for the wine business.
There now remains the old tavern. It is the best preserved of the old landmarks of the once prosperous hamlet in the Happy Valley. The date of its erection is not obtainable. It was undoubtedly in the fifties, if not earlier. It was an admirable location for a wayside inn, being about four miles out of the Erie of its prosperous days, and close by a grist mill. When Mr. Albrecht moved into the valley, it was kept by a Mr. Warden, and afterwards S. Gloth kept it. As it stands today it has a really inviting aspect and a promise in its fine old- fashioned homeliness of old-fashioned hospitality. Beautifully, even picturesquely, situated, it is a pleasant spot at which to rest, and in the days of its business prosperity was deservedly popular.
CHAPTER XXI .- HOW COMMERCE GREW.
THE FIRST VESSELS AND THE EARLIEST CAPTAINS .- STEPS TAKEN TO OPEN THE BAY .- A CENTURY OF PROTECTION.
It was away back in the spring of 1753, when the entire south shore of Lake Erie was an absolutely unbroken wilderness, the lake itself an insert in the heart of the stupendous forest expanse which stretched from the Mexican Gulf to the Arctic sea, that the commerce of Erie began-that the waters of Presque Isle Bay were first parted by the prow of a white man's vessel. Before that the waters of the lake had rolled before the breeze onward to the shore, unvexed by any device of man, save, now and then, by the paddle of the Indian, as, tak- ing advantage of their most amiable moods, he propelled his canoe of birchen bark along the coast. But in 1753 the new era began, when Sieur Marin and his expedition paddled their batteaux through the tortuous entrance into the beautiful sheet of water that Duquesne had pronounced "The finest in nature." Prophetic expression, done later less tersely, less comprehensively and less poetically in the now hack- neyed phrase, "The finest harbor on the chain of lakes." It is true the commerce of the Frenchman was not commerce in the generally ac- cepted sense. But it was commerce nevertheless; all the commerce there could then be, for there were none to be supplied with the neces- sites of life or the luxuries-if indeed luxuries were demanded-ex- cept the soldiery of the expedition sent out to accomplish an allotted task. And, luxuries having been mentioned it may be pardoned if one should hark back to what has been said of the French regime here, and recall the fact that among the stores sent into this forest wilder- ness there was a considerable quantity of silks and velvets, of no particular use to the red man of the woods or the soldier turned sap- per and miner, but of a good deal to the governor and his subordinates to whom the money for which they were sold to the King "came in handy." This then was the beginning of the commerce of Erie.
It is a far cry from the batteau of birch bark or a hollowed-out tree trunk to a 10,000-ton steel steamship, but yet this port of Erie has wit- nessed the evolution, great as it is ; and that evolution covers an inter- val of scarcely more than a hundred years. Less than a century ago, when Com. O. H. Perry had a pressing errand to Buffalo, he employed a row boat and a detail of men from the naval establishment at Erie to
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transport him thither, and it was only a few years earlier when there was not an embarkation of any kind upon the waters of Lake Erie of greater proportions than those employed by the Frenchmen who first made Erie known to the civilized world. It would not be proper to omit the statement that the enterprising Frenchmen had navigated this lake by a sailing vessel many years before, La Salle having in 1618-19 built the schooner Griffon at a point on Niagara river above the falls, a place now named La Salle, after him, and sailed one voy- age in it. But it was one of the ships that sailed and never came back. It was, moreover, a ship with which we have nothing to do, for there is nothing in any of the records of that unfortunate cruise to show that she even sighted this portion of the shore.
The beginnings of navigation that concern us-navigation by sail- ing craft that traded with, or called at, Erie, were undoubtedly at the time the permanent settlement of this county began, and the first so far as any records go, who navigated a sailing craft to Erie was James Talmadge, who brought Col. Seth Reed and family to Presque Isle in 1795. Captain Talmadge, however, ceased to be a navigator, be- coming a pioneer settler in this goodly land. Later in the same year Captain William Lee navigated a sailing vessel of small size, bring- ing to Erie Judah Colt and his party, but, unlike Talmadge, Lee had the true instincts of the sailor, and was the first settled navigator of this port, for here he took up his abode and his name entered into the early geography of the place. His vessel was engaged as regularly as business would admit between Buffalo and Erie, carrying light freight and passengers, but it is related that when headwinds became troublesome, passengers besides paying their fare, had to "work their passage" by taking their turn at the oars. The first sailing vessel built in the vicinity of Erie was the Washington, of thirty tons, constructed by the Pennsylvania Population Company at the mouth of Four-mile creek, and launched in September, 1798. She was not only the largest vessel of her time but the first to be built on the south shore of Lake Erie. For twelve years she did business on Lake Erie in the service of her owners. Next year after the building of the Washington, in 1799, Captain Lee and Rufus S. Reed built the Good Intent at the mouth of Mill creek, and she became a regular trader between Erie and Buffalo, but in 1806 sank off Point Abino with all on board. Other early Erie vessels were the Harlequin, built by Eliphalet Beebe, in 1800, but unfortunately, wrecked the same year, her entire crew being drowned; in 1801, the Wilkinson, of sixty-five tons, and in 1805 the Mary of 100 tons.
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