Franklin and Fulton Counties in Pennsylvania, Part 1: Chambersburg

Franklin County does not look promising when one drives in on Interstate 81 from Maryland. There are acres of beige boxes off the interstate, each with a giant truck in front. The highway is two lanes in each direction and jammed with trucks. 

I had in my head that it was 132 miles from Morgantown to Chambersburg, but I had written down 162. I thought I would be in Chambersburg by twelve, but it was after one when I finally got there, hungry and with a full bladder. I wanted to park in the middle of downtown, but I neglected to stuff my pockets with quarters before I left home, so I couldn't park at the meters. I knew there was a shopping center a few blocks from the center of town, and I found free parking and a Chinese restaurant. The sign on the door said "Sorry. We will be closed on Mondays." It was Monday. I retraced my drive on US 30, Lincoln Way East (you know you're not in Virginia when the street is named "Lincoln") to Hardee's, a place I don't typically eat because of a homophobic owner thirty or forty years ago. They had free parking, the bathrooms were in a vestibule just inside the door, and clean, and a real person took my order. I had the breaded chicken sandwich, no fries, thanks. I felt like Anthony Bourdain, of blessed memory. I bit into the too-yellow roll and the fried, crusty piece of chicken finished with a mayonnaisey dressing and dill pickles. I had to look at the sandwich after biting into it, and try to think of something complimentary to say about this exotic cuisine. 

I got four quarters from the nice young man at the counter and tried again downtown. Chambersburg has a pretty downtown, with a traffic circle at the junction of US 11 and US 30, the center of town. I found ten places on the National Register of Historic Places , and a synagogue that says it's been there a hundred years. I took a pic of the synagogue, in a narrow building at least a hundred years old, but it didn't show up on my phone/camera. Many of the stores were vacant. I found a bookstore (closed Monday), and there were a few stores with booths where people sell their old dishes, toys, books, records, CDs, clothes and general junk. I looked for the six CDs from my list, but couldn't find any of them. Many of the storefront windows had model trains set up with miniature snowy little towns. I found Wilson College at the north end of town. It's a pretty campus and I took a few pictures there. The nearby neighborhood has big old houses on wooded lots. 

The motel at "The Usual Chain" was two exits up from downtown, not walking distance to anything. There was a farm behind it. Chambersburg Mall was a short distance down the road. Like so many malls, it was almost empty. There was a movie theater and a J.C. Penney store open, and a mammoth store selling "stuff" in booths, like in town. Many of the booths looked like rooms in my house. I spent close to an hour there looking for the CDs on my list.  It doesn't help that I'm only looking for six titles. 

I looked for restaurants for dinner after my nap. All I could find were chains, all grouped around the exit off I-81 between downtown and my motel. I thought I would go to Panera, but I couldn't find it in the maze of parking lots. I found a Giant Food supermarket, which had some options, but nothing appealing. I ended up at Subway down the row from Giant, and, contrary to my usual custom, got carry-out, because I had hardly seen anyone in a mask, and listening to the radio, all I heard was that Covid infections were multiplying and hospitals in Pennsylvania were jam-packed. I listened to the television news, on cable from Washington. Wikipedia says Franklin County is part of the Washington-Baltimore SMSA. Washington is one hundred miles from Chambersburg. I planned out a complicated day ahead, along Route 16 from James Buchanan's Birthplace to Blue Ridge Summit and the Appalachian Trail. Part Two will be that, and part three will be Fulton County, twenty miles west of Chambersburg, where I spent most of Wednesday morning.

Memorial Fountain and Statue, 1878, Junction of US 30 and US 11 in downtown Chambersburg

Franklin County Courthouse, 1865. The prior courthouse was burned by Confederate  troops in 1864.

Coyle Free Library, 1891

Franklin County Jail, 1818. Cell block behind it is from 1880

Ritner Boarding House, also known as John Brown House, because he roomed there in 1859 prior to his raid on Harper's Ferry.

Masonic Temple, originally 1823-24

Storefront, Chambersburg Historic District. This is the office of a radio station now.

Townhouse Row, North Main St.

Shop window before Christmas on North Main St.

Wilson College Campus

Zion Reformed Church, 1811-1813

Elk County, Pennsylvania

Maybe it was a mistake to do this. Last week, June 25 and 26, I did an overnight trip to Elk County, Pennsylvania, about a four-hour drive from Morgantown. Ridgway, the county seat, is roughly halfway between Pittsburgh and Buffalo. This was supposed to be my ninety-sixth county visit, but I missed Delaware, Ohio, Delaware, Pennsylvania, The District of Columbia and Dorchester, Maryland, so it is only the ninety-second. I visited Dauphin County, Pennsylvania, in February, two months behind schedule, because of a funeral in December, and because I was sick most of January. After that, the pandemic hit, and travel was pretty much over.

I visited my regular doctor at WVU Medicine on the twenty-second, and I asked for an antigen test, because what I had in January seemed a lot like a relatively mild case of COVID-19. Relatively, because I was sick enough to not leave the house for ten days, and for not more than an hour the next ten. The test came back negative, meaning I probably had something else, but people in the field told me that many of the tests are unreliable and that the antigens clear out quickly. All that means is that I could get sick all over again.

Pennsylvania has red, yellow and green classifications for reopening of Counties. Elk is green, meaning just masks and distancing. All counties are out of the red category, which was stay-at-home orders. There have been only nine confirmed cases in Elk County, and three probable cases. There are fewer than 32,000 people in the county. In Pennsylvania, new cases are down, as opposed. to West Virginia, where they are going up, mostly in prisons, and among high school seniors this year who visited Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and came back sick.

So Thursday, after our 7 A.M. trip to "senior hour" at Kroger, where many of the staff thought wearing a mask was a joke, we made breakfast, and I packed up. I may never go back to that Kroger. I made a reservation at a non-chain motel just outside of Ridgway, and bagged a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a banana for lunch on the road. Google took me up I-79 to Pittsburgh, through downtown and up PA-28, then on some scary back roads to Ridgway. I stopped half-way in a far northern township of Allegheny County, bought a bottle of iced tea and a bag of baked potato chips at a convenience store and found a park to sit in and eat.

Once in Elk County, I saw there were hunting lodges and resorts for hunters along the road. Pennsylvania has forest land set aside specifically for hunters. I visited Main Street and found the courthouse and the chamber of commerce tourist bureau, where a nice woman loaded me up with pamphlets and maps. I checked into the hotel, where I had to wait for a surly young man, not cute, to greet me. He had me fill out a form and gave me the carbon copy and a key. I thought I was in the last century. The motel was mostly empty, and the room was clean, but unadorned. There was a c.1960 room air conditioner on. I napped for an hour and woke up freezing. Thursday night, I turned off the air conditioner and put on the heat.

I headed back to Main Street to look for dinner. I thought there might be something at the downtown grocery store, but nothing I wanted, and I needed to sit somewhere. There was an Italian place "under new management" down the street. They had moved out half the tables, and the staff all wore masks. Masks are rare in West Virginia. Since I'm not eating meat, I ordered cheese manicotti, which came with a salad and an enormous piece of good bread, of which I only consumed half.

I walked to the edge of downtown, just two blocks, to find a historic house. The owner, O.B. Grant, owned a tannery along the Clarion River in the 1800s, and apparently cut down most of the native hemlock in the area to supply tannin for tanning hides. Near there, along the river, is a rail-to-trails. I walked down about twenty minutes each way. It's like our trail, along a former railroad line by a river, but not paved, even in town. There is lush vegetation, somewhat different from in Morgantown. I was just amazed at how in their short, cool, summer all kinds of plants cover every available inch of territory, intermixed with yellow and purple flowers. There was a sign on the trail to wear orange to protect oneself from hunters. I saw a few other people on the trail, including a woman and her dog, both clad in orange, with the dog illegally off-leash. The dog came over to me and said "Hi," as friendly dogs will do.

Sunset Thursday was at 8:52, one minute later than Morgantown. I headed back to the room by eight, skipping the ice cream parlor on Main. Unfortunately, there was an ice cream place just before the motel, an old-fashioned drive-in. I got some soft ice cream for $2.35. I handed the high-school-age woman a twenty and she rang it up, with the cash register showing $17.65 in change. I fished in my pocket. "Here, I have the thirty-five cents," I said. She was totally flustered. Trying to be helpful, I added "You can just give me back eighteen dollars." She had to go check that with an older woman, maybe her mother, who put. it all into her calculator, and verified that the register would be correct anyway, if she took my thirty-five cents and gave me eighteen dollars back.

I spent some time on the internet and went to sleep with the heat on in the room.

The motel said they had a "continental breakfast."  That wasn't true, so I feasted in the room on the half bag of potato chips and half a bottle of iced tea from lunch Thursday and a couple of prunes from a bag I had brought with me. I went out to look for. a house west of Ridgway, which I was unable to find, so I turned around and drove to St. Mary's, the largest city in Elk County, with about 13,000 people. Ridgway has just over 4,000. I found a historic chapel south of downtown, near a Wal-Mart, lots. of fast-food places and car dealerships. Back in town, I found some other historic places, and walked around a bit. It was sunny and cool, pleasant. From there, I drove north to two towns along U.S. 219, Johnsonburg and Wilcox. Johnsonburg has a beautiful downtown district, completely vacant. There is a branch library across the street. from the historic colonnade, the Brick Block, and just up the street, a smelly paper mill. Nearby is a state park with a lake, so I stopped there for a pic. People were out in boats. I took back roads to Wilcox, a town  at the north end of Elk County. I found a historic house there. I also saw a disturbing number of signs and banners with the name of the current President. A sign on a. business said "A Deplorable Lives Here." I took my picture and headed back to Ridgway down U.S. 219.

I parked on the corner of Main Street, where 219 turns east. There was a Chinese restaurant which I thought had a sign that said "Carry-Out Only" Thursday night. Friday they had a buffet set out for lunch for only $7.00. The person at the counter was a young man, maybe college-age, who spoke perfect Pennsylvania English to me, but spoke to the cook, probably his father, some form of Chinese. They had moved some tables against the wall to provide spacing. I forewent the chicken dishes I usually eat at these buffets, and filled up on noodles with vegetables, egg drop soup and mushrooms. It was enough.

I headed home via U.S. 219 to U.S. 119 just south of Dubois. In southern Pennsylvania, U.S. 119 is a back road, but the highway is a toll road, and I enjoy the scenery. Once you enter West Virginia, you are only seven miles from our house. I didn't take my "water" pill Friday morning, and only stopped once for the bathroom, at a Sheetz gas and convenience store near Indiana, Pennsylvania. While in Ridgway, almost everyone was masked, in Indiana they were not. Traffic was backed up around Greensburg when I came by. This route was shorter by fifteen miles than the way I went up, and took about ten minutes longer.

It's a little scary to be out, to sit in a restaurant, to stay in a strange motel. Pennsylvania has been better about masks and social distancing than West Virginia, and especially in a rural area, I felt as safe as I might being out in Morgantown.

Main Street, Ridgway Historic District

Elk County Courthouse

Ridgway Armory, 1904

A house on West Main Street, Ridgway, with a rainbow flag

O.B. Grant House, West Main Street, Ridgeway, 1870

wildflowers on an empty lot, Ridgway

along the rail trail, just south of downtown Ridgway

Decker's Chapel, 1856, St. Mary's

Downtown St.Mary's with an eternal flame memorial to soldiers from the area

View from downtown St. Mary's

John E. Weidenboerner House, St.Mary's 1881, built by a prominent citizen after a devastating fire in the town

Apollo Theater, downtown St. Mary's

Mural with the paper plant behind it, Johnsonburg

Anderson Brick Block, 1890s, built as stores with apartments above, now completely empty, Johnsonburg

cast iron front building, Johnsonburg Commercial Historic District

East Branch Clarion River Lake, near Johnsonburg

Swedish Lutheran Parsonage, Wilcox, 1901

mid-century modern bank building, Main St. and U.S. 219, Ridgway

Delaware County, Ohio

Delaware County is north of Columbus, twenty-seven miles downtown to downtown Delaware, the town that serves as the county seat. Parts of Columbus, Westerville and Dublin are in Delaware County, it being easier for cities to annex in Ohio than it is in West Virginia. I was set to go Wednesday to Friday, but woke up late after a grueling and annoying City Council meeting Tuesday. Then I checked the internet and read the paper.

Tuesday there were no reported cases of  covid19 in West Virginia or Ohio, so I figured I could go. I would be alone in the car and in a motel, and not in crowds. By Wednesday morning, there were three cases in Cleveland (not close) but Ohio University in Columbus was closing for the duration. There were no cases in West Virginia, but very few people had been tested, less than ten at that point. Maybe this was more serious. So I didn't go.

Friday, the President seemed to take someone's advice and declare a national emergency. He has been exposed to the virus, but continues to shake hands with people. Democrats in Congress finally bullied the Centers For Disease Control to offer testing for free. In Morgantown, West Virginia University went on spring break Friday, extended it to two weeks instead of one, and students were told not to return to campus. An undergraduate friend spending the semester in Australia was ordered to come back, although no one can see what the point is of that. Public schools closed early Friday and are not coming back. The students have "snow-day" assignments they can do at home.

West Virginia University's basketball team won its first round of "March Madness," but now the rest of the games are canceled. Professional sports are off, the high school basketball tournaments won't happen. Major League Baseball canceled spring training and the season will be "delayed."

We've seen the potential failure of the whole American enterprise. I don't mean just the ups-and-downs of the stock market. Many, many students receive free breakfast and lunch, feminine hygiene supplies and even take-home food at school. People have no health insurance coverage or high deductibles. Coronavirus is not a big deal for young healthy people, but for older people it is life-threatening. Those with mild forms of the disease need to be isolated, with pay. We have no mechanism for that, no way to make sure people have medical care, infected people have a place to go, poor children have food to eat and someone to care for them when schools are closed. No one has said what will happen to college students with part-time jobs, paid-for meal plans or scholarships.

If anything, all of this proves that Bernie Sanders was right all along, and Elizabeth Warren, too. The United States has been coasting along with some thinking everything was great because the stock market was up and unemployment was down. On the ground, though, we knew that people didn't have health insurance or sick leave, couldn't afford to feed their families. We have been absolutely unprepared for a catastrophe, and yet things happen all the time all over the world.

Rabbi Joe (full disclosure: my husband) went ahead with services Friday night. As usual, most of the congregants were older. He spoke about the plagues that were God's wrath, like when Moses found the people worshipping the golden calf, and many people died. We don't believe that now, that God controls those things. Still, there are consequences for our actions. Electing someone incompetent and uncaring to be President, and for Republicans in Congress and the Senate, going along with whatever he wants, has left us all vulnerable.

The Friday when President Kennedy was killed was warm and sunny in Baltimore, where I was fourteen and a ninth grader. The next day, it rained heavily all day and by Monday it was bitter cold. We've had seventy-degree highs this week, about twenty degrees above average, but this afternoon, it turned cold and it's snowing. Sometimes I think the weather does somehow follow world events.

The City of Morgantown sent out an overloaded agenda for Tuesday's meeting: interviewing people for city boards, dinging a landlord for nuisance properties, passing a budget and a five-year capital improvement plan, then meeting after the regular meeting about potential lawsuits. I suggested yesterday by email that we table as much as we could and talk about the emergency in our city, which even if no one gets sick, will be devastating economically. I also sent a message to my doctor asking if I should even go this meeting, being high risk for this illness. I've been offline last night and today for the Jewish sabbath (I still wrote this on Saturday, but will post it after dark), so I only saw a post from one Councilor, who agreed with me.

I hope we can all get through this. I saw Readers Vent comments in The Charleston Gazette-Mail, where people said they think it's all a hoax because they don't know anyone with corona virus. I am reminded of 1982, when friends said that about AIDS. Many of those people died of the disease. We need to be vigilant and demand that our governments at all levels do what is needed.