Forgotten Tales of Pennsylvania (3 page)

C
IRCUS
T
ENT
C
OLLAPSED
IN
U
NIONTOWN

A woman was killed and hundreds of others were injured when a fierce windstorm struck the circus grounds of the Barnum & Bailey Circus on June 2, 1917. The circus was set up in Uniontown and attracted people from throughout Fayette and surrounding counties. At about 5:30 p.m., just before the late afternoon show began, a tremendous gust of wind that was described as a miniature tornado collapsed the main tent. The crowd panicked. Several people were struck by tent poles and flying debris. Others were crushed under the collapsing seats. Elephants in a nearby tent heard the screaming and began to stampede. A thirty-two-year-old woman died of shock. Thirty of the wounded needed to be taken to the Uniontown hospital immediately, and six were in critical condition. The circus suffered $35,000 worth of damage to its property.

P
OWWOW AND
H
EX

The practice of powwowing, also known as
brauche
, has a long history among German immigrants and their descendants in Pennsylvania. It is not known how the word
powwow
, which is usually applied to American Indian rituals, came to be associated with the magical-religious practices of the Pennsylvania Dutch. The practice is a combination of ritual healing and folk magic, with Christian overtones. The powwower is not usually viewed as a menacing sorcerer or witch, but rather as a conduit for God's healing power. The primary purpose of powwowing has traditionally been to provide cures, healing and protection from curses (hexes) and other forms of evil; to locate lost objects, animals and people; and to provide good luck or blessings. This occurs through the use of amulets, incantations, prayers, charms and other rituals. Though anyone can learn the practice of powwowing, certain practitioners are considered more adept and begin learning the art at a very young age. Powwowers usually pass down their craft through their descendants, alternating between males and females in each generation.

Powwowers have used several different grimoires over the years, but none has been as popular as the book compiled by John George Hohman in 1819 titled
Der Lang Verborgene Schatz und Haus Freund
. It is more commonly known by its English title,
The Long-Lost Friend
. The book is a collection of rituals, spells and charms for the powwower to utilize. The volume also promises to protect the bearer from harm, both spiritual and physical.

While most powwowers were perceived (and still are by some today) as benevolent healers, there were those who practiced a darker form of
brauche
known as
hexerei
. Whether as a result of payment or out of spite, the “hex doctors,” or witches, would place hexes on people and animals. They would use their abilities to malevolently influence people and events. The grimoire that was most associated with this form of black magic was
The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses
. Allegedly authored by Moses himself, the central part of the text contains prints of woodcuts of amulets, conjurations and talismans that were said to have been copied from ancient sources. Other sources were supposedly added to the text from the Kabala and the infamous Dr. Faust himself. The book acquired its dark reputation because of its section on conjuring spirits.

Though powwowing was once commonplace and practiced in the open, since the late 1920s, it has moved underground. A combination of sensational newspaper accounts, the hex murder trial (covered later in this book) and new laws regarding the practice of medicine drove powwowing from the public eye.

M
AN
D
ENIED THAT
H
E
W
AS
D
EAD

Hamilton Disston had a small problem at the end of March 1887. Apparently, everyone believed that he was dead. Rumors had circulated in Philadelphia that he had been hit by a train along the Pennsylvania Railroad at the Germantown Junction. The story had spread so quickly that family and friends were shocked when they saw him walking around. Hamilton convinced local newspapers that he was still alive, and they assured the public in print that he was, in fact, still living. He had no idea how the rumors got started.

T
HE
O
GUA

The ogua was said to be an amphibious or alligator-like creature that inhabited the banks of the Monongahela River in the 1700s and early 1800s. According to the folklore of local Indians and some early settlers, the ogua reached up to twenty feet in length and weighed as much as five hundred pounds. The creatures supposedly spent most of their time in the water but would occasionally venture onto land at night to catch deer that would come to the river to drink. The ogua would grapple the deer with its tail and drag it into the water to drown before devouring it. There were several unverified reports of settlers killing some of the creatures. It is now believed that the story may have been a cautionary tale, much like an urban legend, to prevent young children from playing too close to the river.

F
IRE AT THE
C
ANDY
F
ACTORY

A fire destroyed one of Philadelphia's largest candy factories on January 25, 1880. Stephen F. Whitman & Sons confectionary at Twelfth and Market Streets caught fire sometime in the afternoon. The cause could not be determined. The third and fourth floors were completely burned out, and the roof collapsed through the building. The water used to extinguish the fire destroyed the candy-making machinery in the basement. The building itself suffered $5,000 worth of damage, and the company lost $65,000 worth of stock. That is a lot of melted chocolate.

Another candy factory fire occurred in Saxton on December 6, 1924. It started in the afternoon on the second floor of the factory owned by James and John Morritz. Firemen said that the vats of sugar and molasses helped to feed the fire. In less than an hour, the entire building was in ruins. Approximately $8,000 worth of holiday orders were destroyed.

T
HE
L
IZARD
M
AN

In February 1981, five boys playing in a railroad yard in Arnold, Pennsylvania, were being observed by a rather strange spectator. The boys stopped when they noticed that a small, green, hairless humanoid was watching them. It seemed to resemble some sort of lizard man. The boys tried to grab the creature, hoping to capture it. After emitting a loud squeal, the lizard man squirmed free. It then fled down a drainpipe and was not seen again.

H
OODOO
M
ADE
A
M
AN
S
IGN
L
EGAL
D
OCUMENTS

A rather bizarre complaint was filed with police in Scranton in August 1883. A man by the name of Hogan accused Foster Rankin, Dennis Sullivan, Edward Horan and Albert Hodge of conspiracy and necromancy. Hogan claimed that he had met the men at the Mansion House several nights before and shared several glasses of wine with them. As the evening progressed, the men introduced him to a “hoodoo” doctor, who claimed to have supernatural abilities. The hoodoo man quickly performed some type of ritual and passed his hand over Hogan's head. Hogan claimed that the magical act caused him to believe that he was a judge of Lackawanna County, and he began to sign documents in his perceived legal capacity.

One of the documents apparently relinquished all of his property to his former wife. Another was a biography of himself, in which he admitted to committing murder, arson and a variety of other crimes. Hogan claimed to have no control over his actions while the hoodoo doctor watched over him. When he was released from their control, Hogan claimed that the men demanded that he give them ten dollars or they would publish the biography.

T
HE
L
OST
C
AVE OF
S
ILVER

According to an early settler, somewhere to the west of Tionesta, in what is today the Allegheny National Forest, is a hidden cave full of veins of silver. The settler, whose last name was Hill, accidentally discovered the precious metal when he took shelter in the cave for the night. The silver was everywhere—in the walls, ceiling and floor of the cave. The next day, Hill went home, but when he attempted to find the cave again, he was unsuccessful. Another account of the silver cave came from a man who frequently traded with the Indians who lived nearby. He noticed that they had large amounts of silver and asked them where they had acquired it. The Indians blindfolded him and took him to the cave. He described it the same way as Hill. He, too, was unable to relocate the cave.

P
ENNSYLVANIA
'
S
E
ARLIEST
T
ORNADO

The first tornado ever to be recorded in Pennsylvania occurred in August 1724. It struck near Valley Forge and traveled through Chester and Bucks Counties. Along the way, it uprooted trees, damaged a mill, knocked down barns and blew the roofs off houses. Heavy objects like plows and millstones were tossed around as if they weighed nothing. The twister was reported in the Philadelphia paper the
American Mercury
.

T
HE
W
ITCH OF
F
ARRANDSVILLE

Homer Rosenberger recorded the following account of a witch in an issue of
Keystone Folklore Quarterly
in the 1960s. In the 1890s, the area around Farrandsville, Clinton County, was known for its logging industry. Along one of the many old logging roads lived a woman in her eighties named Sal Kervine. Kervine, who lived alone, was thought to be a practitioner of witchcraft. She was known for being easily offended and holding grudges. Many people in the nearby communities had accused her of bewitching them over the years.

On one side of Kervine's house was a very clean and clear spring. Many of the teamsters who transported logs from the forest to the railroad would stop at the stream for a drink or to water their horses. Sometimes the teamsters made Kervine angry, and when they would try to leave, their wagons would mysteriously not move. No matter how hard the horses pulled, it was as if the wagons were fastened to the ground. The men were then late for their deliveries. After several such encounters, many of the teamsters stopped going to the stream.

One day, a teamster named Tom Stewart was in a hurry. He needed to make three deliveries on the very hot day and was already running late. After the second trip, he was incredibly thirsty, so he decided to stop at the stream. Stewart had been in an argument with Kervine several months before but assumed that the incident had been forgotten. When he tried to move his wagon to leave, he found himself facing the same difficulty that the other teamsters had faced. After several attempts to move the wagon by brute force, he realized what was happening. Stewart grabbed his axe and got off the wagon. He walked up to the front wheel and broke one of the spokes with one swing. After that, the wagon moved freely.

Out of curiosity, Stewart stopped by the stream the next day to see Kervine. She was not out walking around as usual, so he decided to peek in the window. Stewart could plainly see that Kervine had a broken arm. After that, no wagons were detained at the stream.

A M
YSTERIOUS
L
IGHT IN THE
B
EAVER
R
IVER

Sometime during the 1920s, a mysterious light was seen shining beneath the water of the Beaver River near Newport, Lawrence County. The light could be seen just to the north of the Erie Railroad Bridge. As word of the strange light spread, it attracted a substantial amount of attention from the surrounding towns. The source of the light was unknown, and its nature could not be determined by looking at it from the railroad bridge or the riverbank.

Some spectators decided to bring rifles to attempt to shoot out the light. They were unsuccessful, but others kept trying. Eventually, the railroad police were brought in to keep spectators away from the bridge and to prevent them from accidentally shooting one another. At one point, the police had to arrest more than ten armed men who were trying to extinguish the light. After that, all of the curious were kept at a distance. It is unclear what became of the mystery light.