One of the joys of living in Pennsylvania is a trip to "Little Switzerland," sometimes called the "Switzerland of America." The town is now named Jim Thorpe, but during its growing-up years was known to the world as Mauch Chunk. The Benton News frequently looks back at events of interest, so today we'll journey to the year 1874--a year selected at random, since I knew about railroad schedules for that year. The president at the time was Grant.
Mauch Chunk was a distance from Benton and few Bentonians ever vacationed in that city, but let’s imagine that someone did. It was August 1886 before ground was broken North of Orangeville for the Bloomsburg and Sullivan Railroad and the laying of tracks up the rocky valley began. Getting from Benton to Bloomsburg was an all-day effort. From that point, the trip would primarily have been made by train.
For people West of Benton, they probably took the train from Williamsport (on a train that came from Lockhaven) to Sunbury, then by the Danville and Hazelton Railroad to Catawissa, then by the Catawissa and Lehigh Valley Railroad bound for Bethlehem, stopping in Mauch Chunk. What a number of connections to be missed on a trip! Today the trip from Benton to Jim Thorpe is 55 miles, via Route 93. It takes about an hour and a half. The trip to Mauch Chunk was a two-day trip back then, assuming that all connections were made.
The scenery from Catawissa to Mauch Chuck must have been beautiful. In places, two or three railroad tracks crowded into what seemed like the width of an ordinary street. Long freight trains, both ends out of sight, steam whistles blowing, wove through the mountain valleys from Catawissa to Mauch Chuck. The tops of the mountains seemed to touch the clouds. As the train approached its destination, it rounded a sharp turn in the track at the base of Great Bear Mountain and Mauch Chunk lay out before the excited passengers. The foot of the town seemed to rest on the banks of the Lehigh with its body stretching up the narrow span between Mauch Chunk Creek (a narrow stream of 8 or 10 feet wide that falls 600 feet in 6 miles) and Mount Pisgah. The town seemed to be completely circled by high mountains, reminiscent to some of Switzerland.
In those days of early railroad travel, the smoke and vapor coming off Mount Pisgah probably resembled a volcano in eruption (or modern Benton in cold weather when cloud cover is low and the wood burners along Main Street are busily belching smoke.)
The train arrived on one of three tracks at the bottom of the mountain, adjacent to the Lehigh and a canal, both of which were crossed by a bridge. There were rows of buildings, including fine hotels, but what must have impressed the arriving passenger was the hustle and bustle and the panorama of people, the moving of boats and freight, the narrow streets, the sounds of bands of musicians, whistles blowing from arriving and departing trains on the tracks of the New Jersey Central Railroad.
The scene must have been somewhat like the impression the first time I went to the Ozark Mountains and stopped at Branson. My immediate thought was that building a city in those mountains was somewhat akin to building a city in as unlikely a spot as Nordmont!
Mauch Chuck (now Jim Thorpe) was the county seat of Carbon County, located on the east bank of the Lehigh River where the river bobbed through the Mahoning Mountain, built on both sides of the mouth of Mauch Chuck Creek, 89 miles north by west from Philadelphia. Mauch Chuck became important for a number of reasons, but primarily by the mining of anthracite coal and secondly by the iron ore found in the Sharpe Mountain. The mines of Summit Hill on Sharpe Mountain, nine miles west of Mauch Chunk, up the valley of Mauch Chunk Creek, were among the best known and most productive coal mines of the state. What was extracted from the earth was brought down to Mauch Chuck to be shipped.
It is easy to lean back and think to the time when the area was a wilderness, uninhabited by human beings, surrounded on every side by high mountains, washed frequently by a raging Lehigh, overhung by large rocks ready to quit their hold. A journey through the "Narrows" would have been a scary thing.
But as the years passed, industry and perseverance resulted in the transformation of the town into what resembled a seaport complete with wharves, dams and docks. The coal mine was situated in a valley so high that many considered it on the top of a mountain. The terrain was virtually identical to some valleys in West Virginia. For many years, the depth of the coal vein was not determined.
The name "Mauch Chuck" came from memory of the pronunciation by the Lenape Indians of what they called "bear mountain," a rolling series of hills which somewhat looked like a sleeping bear. The roots of the town were laid down at its founding in 1818 by the man who started the Lehigh Coal & Navigation Company. The town was a railroad center and the shipping of coal from the town was at one time its major industry. The Mauch Chuck Switchback Gravity Railroad was its favorite tourist attraction.
Let's go back again to 1874. To do that, we will quote from an article in the Cincinnati Times-Star in its edition of October 1, 1894, in which a father who was taking his son to enroll in Lehigh University made a stop in order to ride the switchback gravity railroad then known as The Mauch Chunk and Summit Hill Railway, from Mauch Chunk to the top of Summit Hill. This railroad had been converted from a nine-mile dirt road in 1827 to move coal cars downhill by gravity and uphill by mules.
A loaded train heading to Mauch Chunk on the "Down Track" varied in size, but often had seven cars, each with as much as four tons of coal. After 42 "coal wagons" went down, a separate train took down seven mule wagons, each with four mules chomping away on hay. When the train arrived at Mauch Chunk, teams of eight mules were attached to 14 now empty coal wagons. A total of 24 mules then shuttled the 42 empty coal wagons to the top.
Stationary steam engines were placed on top of the peaks of Mt. Pisgah and Mt. Jefferson in 1845, and inclined planes were graded up the eastern slopes. Trains of empty wagons could then be staged for return to the bottom of Mt. Pisgah and drawn to the peak by steam power. From the top, they return westward by gravity to the foot of Mt. Jefferson. The cars were drawn to that peak again by stationary steam power. The cars then coasted to loading points near Summit Hill. Traffic began flowing in a continuous loop with loaded cars running down the original "Down Track" and empty "lights" returning on the track called the Back Track.
Additional mining operations eventually opened in the Panther Valley and a series of "switchbacks" brought these cars down the mountainside. The railroad become known as the "Mauch Chunk, Summit Hill and Switchback Railroad."
As mining declined, the use of the railroad for hauling tourists increased. Central Railroad of New Jersey bought the railroad in 1898. When we return tomorrow, we'll go on a train ride on this line and tell you why we even brought the subject up in the first place.
The railroad was known in 1874 as The Mauch Chunk and Summit Hill Railway, and ran from Mauch Chunk to the top of Summit Hill. This railroad had been converted from a nine-mile dirt road in 1827 to move coal cars downhill by gravity and uphill by mules. The road, built by the Lehigh Company, went 9 miles up the mountain to the coal mine. The road made its journey up the mountain "by a small and gradual ascent." The road was smooth, "cost a large amount," and was in its day considered one of the best roads in America. It was narrow, and passing was done very carefully. The road "rises by a small and gradual ascent, and is very smooth, cost a large amount, and is considered one of the best roads in America," stated an advertisement for the road. It was narrow. Passing was possible in only a limited number of places.
The author of the journal told about his ride to the place where the railroad began. The road looked down on the roofs "of the houses on the lower side, looking as if the slightest slip "might have implaled us on the lightning rods or thrown us down a chimney."
The writer described the two engines of "120 horse-power each" which powered "bands" attached to safety cars. The "bands" reached from the engine house to the bottom of the mountain.
When the railroad was built, it began at an elevation of about 200 feet above the Lehigh, then began a rise of more than 3,000 feet at an angle of nearly 30 degrees. Passenger cars began moving shortly after the conductor cried "All aboard." The writer described the humming sound of the iron bands, the sound of rollers revolving, the "click, click, click" as the arm of the safety cars fell into the notch of the ratchet. Riders must have felt an extreme thrill as the ever widening horizon and the deepening valley spread out in front of them.
The railroad came to a stop a few hundred feet from the top of Mount Pisgah. Riders were then encouraged to leave the train and climb a few hundred more feet. The writer described a "rude building" at the top of the mountain which he called the "Observatory," on which was a tower.
From this observation point, the writer was able to look out over "Great Bear Mountains" to the East, "Broad Mountain" to the North, Mauch Chunk Mountain to the South. Southeast was the Lehigh Water Gap and still further were the Blue Mountains. From this point, mountains sixty miles away in New Jersey were visible. The top of the mountain was covered with immense rocks which the writer described as being covered with "coral animals of marine origin," many of which were in the shape of "blossoms, intermingled with fossilize plants." With no knowledge of geology, I can only marvel at the existence of marine life on top of Mount Pisgah.
A number of people have driven through (the present town of) Jim Thorpe and didn't realize what was available to see in the mountains surrounding the area. This is not a town to quickly drive though. Stop and take in the wonderful vacation spot, one on the best in the Commonwealth.A passenger on the train in 1894 would stop for two hours on top of the mountain and wait for a second train to arrive before proceeding on his trip. Passengers were not permitted to go down the inclined plane of Mount Pisgah. The cars moved forward in a large circle until they arrive at the foot of the mountain where they started. Many trains had two cars full of passengers somewhat akin to the modern version of the ancient cog railroad on Mount Washington.
On the October 1894 train ride that we have been describing, the train descended from the top of Mount Pisgah to the foot of Mount Jefferson six and a half miles away--down a gravity descent of forty-six feet to the mile. When the brakes on the train were released, the train moved downward through dense foliage, beside steep cliffs.
When the passengers arrived at the bottom of Mount Jefferson, they begin another climb of 2,070 feet, almost exactly like the one at Mount Pisgah. The train then descended to Summit Hill about a mile away on a descent of 45 feet where there was a settlement of about 7,000, mostly coal miners. The churches, schools, stores, banks and newspapers of a town of this size were also there. The train stopped so that passengers could get off and see the "Burning Mine," a couple of hundred yards away. The history of the area says that this fire began in 1832 and, Centralia style, continued to burn through the visit of the writer in 1874.
When the train began again, the next stop was at the bottom of Mount Pisgah where the circle, much as a train would circle a Christmas tree, began. The length of the trip was nine miles with a grade of 96 feet to the mile. The brochure for the trip said that "any desired rate of speed" for the trip was possible--but I would suspect that a loosening of the brakes would result in a very "undesired" rate of speed. Passengers were permitted to stand on the steps of the train, something that would never be permitted if the train were running today.
Early advertisements for the road where preceded the railroad compared it with Napoleon's road over the Alps. In places, the ground was uncovered to a depth of 5 or 6 feet, which exposed pure coal which seemed to be under the entire hill. Early writers described the sounds of gunpowder going off with the blasting of the coal. The coal was then separated using wedges and crowbars. Writers talked about the coal excavation to be about 25 feet deep and removed in sections "of the dimensions of one of our city squares."
The coal was brought down the mountain in wagons, two of which were attached together by chains. The two wagons weighed about two tons and carried six tons of coal. This enormous weight was drawn by four horses which constantly passed and repassed other horses. During the era of the road up the mountain, the men lived in huts near the mine, while some with families lined in Mauch Chunk.
There were plenty of engineering marvels on the mountain. Within two miles of the town and half a mile North of the road was a ridge 650 feet high where coal was discovered on the North side. To get to the coal, it was necessary to build a tunnel entering on the South side about 400 feet above the road. The tunnel was 12 feet high and 20 feet wide and was 640 feet long. The tunnel was 250 feet below the top of the mountain. Fourteen men worked in the tunnel for eight hours, then rested, while another group of men immediately took their planes for 8 hours, followed by another set of men for 8 hours. The work proceeded day and night. Light inside the tunnel was supplied by candles. The sound of hammers was always deafening, although workers could not be seen in the dim light and constant dust until they were a few feet away. The ability of human beings, assisted by the use of some gunpowder, is astonishing. Every inch of that tunnel was constructed in that fashion.
When blasting, the men didn't leave the tunnel but only retreated a couple hundred feet. The smoke from the blasting sprayed over the workers. The smoke was expelled by machinery placed near the mouth of the tunnel which blew air into the tunnel, then struck the back wall and rebounded and hopefully expelled the smoke from the tunnel. The tunnel was excavated at the rate of five feet a week.Coal was drawn up an inclined plane to the top of Summit Hill, then letting the cars descend to Mauch Chuck, about nine miles away, powered only by the force of gravity over the Switchback Gravity Railroad. When a tunnel was eventually driven through the mountain toward the Lehigh river, coal was then brought out over the Tamaqua Branch of the New Jersey Central railroad and the switchback railroad was used for passengers only from that point.
When we think of a gravity railroad, we usually think of a car that coasts down a track by the force of gravity alone. An amusement park roller coaster comes to mind. The first American roller coaster was not built at an amusement park. It was in the mountains of Pennsylvania. The gravity switchback railroad in Mauch Chunk, which was actually more like a runaway train than a modern coaster, is the forefather of today's roller coaster.
In addition to Mauch Chuck, there was a 47-mile gravity railroad between Hawley and Pittston for the Pennsylvania Coal Company to ship anthracite from its mines to the Hudson Canal and Delaware.
The boroughs of Mauch Chunk and East Mauch Chunk eventually merged and adopted the name of Jim Thorpe. Jim Thorpe was an Olympic medal winner. The town bought the athlete's remains from his third wife and erected a monument in the new town to honor their new-found friend.
A non-profit group known as the Switchback Gravity Railroad Foundation is now proposing to rebuild a portion of the Switchback Gravity Railroad, America’s second oldest railroad, on the Mt. Pisgah plane. The goal of the "Pisgah Project" is to "preserve, enhance, and interpret the historic site and to create access to the summit for the general public." The railroad was one of the most visited attractions in the country during the 19th century, second only to Niagara Falls as a destination. The 18-mile roundtrip ride was closed in 1933, and its equipment sold for scrap in 1937.
The current proposal has two phases...
• Phase One includes work to stabilize and interpret the historic resources that remain. It will also include improvements to the old ‘Wagon Road’ located nearby for hiking, biking, and limited vehicular access to the summit for maintenance and security.
• Phase Two includes the installation of a cable and rail system on the Mt. Pisgah plane that will transport a special passenger car up and down. Visitors would be bused between the base of the Mt. Pisgah plane and the Carbon County parking lot along the river. The engine house, trestle, and an observation tower at the summit of the plane would be reconstructed. More information on the SGRF proposal is available on this web site: www.switchbackgravityrr.org .You can read more about switchback railroads, the trail of the switchback and get a list of publications on the subject of Mauch Chuck's switchback railroad by visiting the hyperlinks.
There was a person behind the scenes for all miners--the wives of the miners, the women who washed their husband's sooted clothes, listened to their tales of life hundreds of feet underground, packed their dinner pails and who waited strong as iron when the dreaded whistle blasts sounded and a mine disaster struck. The whistle blasts also called the miners to work and to eat and to call off the labor at the end of the day, much as the whistle blew at the McHenry Distillery or at Little Lumber in earlier days in Benton. When the whistle was silent, it meant that there was no work that day and that the pay check would be a little less and that the family would have to tighten their beltstraps a little more.
The wives of the miners spent their days keeping the clothing the family wore and the house in which they lived as clean as could be expected in a mining town. She made the same meals day after day, but somehow the family ate every bite and loved every minute of the family time. She was the one who gave the children their religious training and the one who taught the children the prayer which began "Now I lay me down to sleep..." She was the one who lead the children in prayer as her husband descended into the black pit each day. She was the one who taught them reading and writing and arithmetic. She was the one who taught the children that an arched eyebrow meant there would be hell to pay if anyone misbehaved.
She was the one who could make any article of clothing that the family needed using only her treadle machine and muslin cloth from the company store or the mail-order catalog. She was the one who scrubbed her dog-tired husband in the zinc tub when he came home from his day in the mines. She was the one who milked the family cow in the backyard, who killed the chickens and wrung their necks when a special meal was called for. She was often the one who fed the family rabbit when the kids forgot their responsibilities and was the one who killed the same rabbit when its meat was needed for the table. She was the one who kept the buckwheat flour mixed for the sausage and buckwheat cakes each morning long before the roosters began announcing the day.
As elsewhere in America, the best laid plans of humans sometimes go astray. Take the story of Jacob Latchaw, foreman in a mine near Haffmansville, Lehigh County, and William Heberly, a laborer in the same mine, who created quite a rumpus according to an article in the Plain Dealer in its edition of October 18, 1899.
The newspaper said that Heberly's wife was a "rather good looking woman of 28," and for some months Foreman Latchaw had been "her ardent admirer." Heberly, on the other hand, became infatuated with the charms of Latchaw's wife who "while not as handsome as his own better half was just the kind of a woman that sizes up to Heberly's tastes."
Latchaw and Heberly were, the newspaper carefully alleged, "frequent callers upon each other's wives," but the husbands didn't catch on right away. When discovered, the men met and each accused the other of being too familiar with his wife.
The proposal was made by Latchaw. The newspaper recorded the conversation for posterity. "See here, Heberly," said Latchaw. "I'll tell you what we'll do. Let's swap wives."
"Agreed," answered Heberly, and right then and there the bargain was made.
The women were consulted and the proposition was agreed to. Latchaw was the father of seven children and Heberly, who had only one child, objected to having a whole family loaded on him. There was a hitch in the bargain, but this obstacle was finally surmounted by Heberly taking one of Latchaw's offspring. He transferred his own child to the Latchaw family. The husbands at once moved their effects to their new homes.
The newspaper noted that a band serenaded both parties. Heberly, however, objected to being honored in this fashion and fired several shots at the serenaders, who scattered.
