Beyond the historical maps that confuse the table, I saw in writing a hand-written reference to a monolithic structure located 10 miles away from Pennsylvania. There is plenty of grassland and bears, algae, and pruners. It is difficult for a civilization to touch the field that they would dare to think of today; A site of rugged, even deeper mountains, where a stop is supposed to cause one’s death to fall; but in black and white the crypto benchmark would be explorer. He asked me, what could be?
I was not looking for a town, but a 19th century. In the middle of the century, Pennsylvania became the site of the iron and steel industry in about four towns. This prosperous community was full of immigrant miners and a unique identity. The living story was a wealth, buried treasure, and an English mansion and was on a hill in Pennsylvania.
Reavelton is ten miles away from the remote mountains of northern central Pennsylvania. Nearest town, Quigley & # 39; s Mills; it's just a corner of the map twenty miles from Lock Haven, perhaps the closest community we know. I say ten miles away that the last ten miles of my trip in that remote area will take another 45 minutes to travel; Doubling the time he needs to travel 50 miles from my house. Almost impossible, the road to this area is as rough and rugged as you would find in the American Southwest. In winter it is impossible to reach this area. No one comes here except the occasional hunter. I have left Reavelton's story alone for me; site to take pictures and no record was left yet. I enjoy the challenge and solitude of such a place; an unresolved one.
I come to Beechcreek, originally called Quigley's Mills two hundred years ago. The small town town is the Mayberry atmosphere. Experience has taught me that the best place to learn history is as an older resident of the area, so I go to the corner dining room for breakfast. It is, as I had hoped, the pillar outside, which is a wooden steps from the arch of the Victoria Gate, and is still a festive house. The door opens with the hood placed on top. The old men dress up and the blue-haired ladies stop their conversations at the two strangers who have just entered this moment. The silence stops, the moment lingers, but the conversation begins again, with the four older men sitting closest to the table. Black and white photographs of the old town line the walls; They will serve as a good ice breaker when I catch the nerve to talk to the gentlemen who sit by us.
For now, I have the same structure, worn wooden floor, tin ceiling, lobster barrel in the dining room showcase, brass ATM and corner floor. She is just a middle-aged woman as a hostess, waitress, cook and cashier; takes our order and retires to the kitchen. One of them walks behind the counter, sips coffee and fills the guard's cups … including ours. You can hear the buzz of sausage from the kitchen, the smell of home-cooked breakfast, a true farmer's breakfast.
From time to time we look our way; maybe because we are strangers, maybe because of my snake boxes, fedora and side care. I wait for an old gentleman to have an eye contact, it doesn't take much time and my choice is to create a conversation. Nice place to be here; Beechcreek. Our conversation turns from small talk in history after being introduced to us; to taste. Most people are happy to talk to them and share what they know about their "hometown" and uncle Charlie, who worked in the mountains. Our conversation allowed me to fill in some blank spaces on notes and people were eager to find out what we would find.
The scenic beauty of this part of the country is unparalleled; The deciduous forest leaves open lawns, meadows and beaver sheds, and there are wonderful, dark forests that remove almost all light. four-foot-diameter heavy hemisphere sheets. The incident of a firefighter who went down the mountain in the 1890s is no longer visible, but his skepticism said that outside villages and frame houses would remain. For hundreds of years no one saw it.
The mountain extends 10 miles to Beechcreek. I get to the point where the black dot ends and we hit a gravel road. There is no trace of sharpness. As I like to call the goat's path. I sometimes drive down a narrow track to a higher altitude, sometimes with cliffs and sharp rocks, with oil slices coming out of the ground, evidence of one of the poorest of the poor. My friend, new to these explorations comments on how far away we can think of our country. I am looking forward to telling the signs of past residence among the trees; 90 degree angles, tree lines, home vegetation, stone walls; nothing to see for miles.
In the preview, I used remote sensing with Google Earth, which showed me that I should approach the top of the mountain where the area was open. When we cleaned a two-foot deep mud, we went in after the wash. Immediately to the right I saw a huge apple-tree, and the line of conifers too equal for the work of nature; probably after the fire service's forestry efforts. "We're here," I said to my friend's surprise. His keen eye was not taken in the same eyes, and he was astonished that we had been able to locate the first attempt to discover the villages without having been here before; others would channel it. I pulled out of the track into a golden beam area and got out of the truck. To my left was a stone wall fifteen feet into the forest. I went the other way to a lil patch that I knew would be around the house. I saw a hole in the ground on the road, probably a well.
The grounds were partially filled with the base of John Reaville's English palace. I read that General, as Reaville called his man, divided his time between the building of the town and the opening of coal mines. However, it was recorded that he had built good homes for miners and large palaces. It was of English style, large and beautifully finished; center room with winding stairs and mahogany railings and balusters; large bedrooms and deep fireplaces heated large fireplaces and carved mantles. A wide porch dug the front and positioned it at an angle down the road so Reaville could see the company approaching. On the porch walk, shot in the head, he was placed on the pillow door. In the garden, a white whirlwind in front of white lilies and ivy. A spring house on the right side of the river ledge into the Reavelton Road.
The atmosphere of the place was comfort, convenience and luxury; or as luxurious as it might have been in 1853, no bathroom, no running water, no electricity. It serves to remind us that we give a lot today. It is not surprising that it was a curiosity for the inhabitants of the other valleys and attracted many visitors. He appeared out of place in that desert. When friends from Potters, Ashfields, Silvars and New York or Boston came, the palace was a place for bullfighters and banquets and a wine cellar specially built for the winery, which was always well stocked with the best English liqueurs and French wines. , was the most popular.
The apple across the field once again caught my attention. Over 30 inches in diameter, I can't remember ever seeing it. It was growing in the middle of a small "L" shaped foundation. To be sure, I thought it was starting to increase after the forest fire. As I was heading out, a soft canvas planted bright orange leaves with thorny shrubs, as a gardening and beyond was a large dungeon, eternal guarantee and fallen stone. I was pretty sure I knew the base of the John Reaville mansion. In times of ferns and almost completely hidden in ferns, I figured out how I should appear 150 years ago; a fence over the roadway, white pillars, a black bear at the front door; The general liked to smile at the guests; I'm the last one. They found stone sheds behind the house; perhaps John hung his cage at the location of the cave; another foundation down the road from the house. I sat on a stroke while my friend continued to search for relics that would confirm our discovery.
A short breath gave me the opportunity to reflect on what was around me. Pennsylvania's history is full of colorful characters; Not only is John Reaville among them, but his accomplishments in the coal and iron mining industries are as isolated as the town that bears his name in the mountains above Quigley's Mills; Rock Cabin, Peacock and Eagleton; each with the efforts of Reavelton and John Reavel while working at the Ashfield Coal Company.
Written records are scarce for information on these ghost towns. They have become true ghosts; only a footnote in history, only a small notation in the historical map; Its name no longer refers to those living in the area, it just exists.
It is a great feeling when you discover a new place and know, maybe for the first time in over 150 years, that someone was interested and revived the name of the town and its people, but they were all forgotten. The story of Reavilton is the story of John Reaville. His legacy of humanity has left behind the stories of these towns that preserve our countryside. Villages are a story of families, and they fought as frontiers in the struggle; they built sweat on their forehead, and later on they prospered in the prosperity of building and building the town.
Reavilton is a special one that was founded in 1853 and went almost entirely from 1878 to the sister of Rock Cabin, Peacock and Eagleton. This is a study of the boom in industrialization and its impact on the people, their industry and the forest. It is a study of heritage and legend, which allowed history to be completely lost, as farms and small villages could be. Although not as old as the remains we study in classical archeology, the community of Reavilton is Pennsylvania and has a complex story here about people who lived here, how they lived and how they left their legacy.
John Reaville emigrated from Nottingham, England to America to live in New York in 1843 and even an occupation miner bought most of his savings to acquire a three-acre farm in Amagansett, Long Island. Tired of this effort, Reaville traveled west from Pennsylvania to the area where Potter and Ashfield Company were expanding new coal mines. Reaville was a tough, tough man. He came in search of his money and fell into the company of Potter and Ashfield. The amount of this was a legal problem with one of the mines in the east: if left unguarded, mine could be claimed by someone else. Immediately after John Reaville moved to Schuylkill County on the site of a former Pennsylvania coal mine, Potter & Ashfield was forced to take up residence inside an illegal mine and another was wanted by the sheriff. they never left without a day. He was in Reaville isolation for approximately 8 months inside the mine. Potter and Ashfileld were the owners of the damaging property. They then saved up to $ 1,500,000 at the time. Beaycree was appointed superintendent of the John Reaville mine of Tangascootac county superintendents, and was given a white check in the spring of 1852, when he had just discovered the bituminous coal.
The mines have been in operation since 1854. The opening wells were driven and coal was coming out in a happy way. Part of the miners, mostly foreigners of this occupation, were many families, who were in long lines of house owned.
Reavilton covered approximately 3600 acres. If we include her sister towns, that is about ten square miles. Revelton named himself, though he was originally from Reavilville. Named for the color of peacock charcoal, it had a bright color. The Rock Cabin got its name for a number of obvious reasons, and Eagleton was named after Seneca Indian Head of the Eagle Bald area. Four towns, hundreds of homes, shops, schools, coal and iron mines, railways, sawmills and monolithic structures; a huge iron furnace was built in a few years.
In Eagleton, Pennsylvania was the first coal strike, and the man who handled it was John Reaville. Reaville was known to be a tough leader. In 1856 the operation was at its highest profit, and the men joined in demanding more money and better treatment. They went on strike, carrying weapons and threatening to turn into violence. John Reaville sent a Confidential Worker to Lock Haven to return Sheriff John W. Smith, who returned with twenty armed men. Smith calmed things down and broke the strike for three days.
Reavilton provided centralized work to the early settlers of this county; coal was in high demand and the mountainous region had plenty. Reavill's team consisted mainly of English, Scottish and German immigrants. Additional cities were linked to natural resources because of their ongoing work; despite the hard work and the opportunity to earn wages and support a family. Several directions spread and miners rose to the ground every day through four-foot tunnels as the railroad, manufacturing and iron industry sought black stone. It was still used for home heaters except in large cities. The wood on the ground was plentiful and cheap and coal was a commodity.
I walked on the ground on his sketches. first, the L-shaped base of the palace, the spring house, the puddle, the stables and the barn. Below you can see the break-in house, the mine offices, the miners' homes and the mines, following in the same hole as the exploded coal mines, so you can stay on the ground and be out of sight. I realized not to walk on the floor between the sink holes that my friend could give at any moment.
Numerous trees were dug to the north-south. I stopped to imagine the men wearing black faces digging into the ground, charging dust, removing some explosives before clearing the mine, and then re-inserting the shaft, re-shaping the wooden roof and carrying it to the coal carts. Horses were riding up the slope of the earth, riding narrow-gauge rail cars, down the mountain to Lock Haven and loading up on the newly completed Pennsylvania Canal in hopes of moving farther east. I asked about the risks; the collapse of the mines and the families who lived here.
The laws on child labor were not present at this time; Eight, nine, and ten-year-old girls would get wet from my spill, with no clean skin and clean white eyes from the mines; forced labor whose life did not matter, John Reaville eating oysters in his English mansion and drinking good wine; the ends of life.
I know this from Reaville on the corner of the stone base. Once upon a time we found her quirky home with wine chunks and bitter bottles, blue china, oyster shells and ceramic tubes. Although nothing remains of the framing, it was an account of two stories that had a wide front door. We see an expensive brick and a stone carved out of the ground. There I found pottery, green glass of fine French wine bottles and more oyster shells; he seemed to like them; an expensive delicacy far from the ocean.
Speaking with the gentlemen of the dinner, I found out that the house had wine and caves on the back of the place where the owner was caring for the best flavor. The best thing about the Reaville people was that they once entertained the Spanish Princess. At a distance of two hundred yards, the miners lived in small, 3-4-room houses, built in piles, making light living; dying at a young age. These people were tough in life and their job was dangerous. When we talked John knew I was enjoying alcohol and tobacco. When he came to town, there were drinks at the bar and it was party life. This was assured to me, by means of the amber glass marked as purchased from the backyard porch, with expensive ceramics and other glass and clay tobacco tubing.
Privileged excavations are at the top of my list to determine the past life of a used home; The Reavilton Palace would be no different. Usually a home is located behind and below the house. This showed evidence of pre-excavation in the context that dirt was mixed with broken glass around its sides. Fortunately, we already knew the age. While I was crossing the dirt, knowing that the bottle hunters were there, in the 1970s Pepsi could recover about 4 feet deep. However, they reminded me that I was only looking for bottles that had been preserved in their entirety after 125 years. The glass was scattered on the ground. Soon more broken pottery and glass began to emerge, and as we removed it from the earth's hole, it was classified by type of glass and by color or decoration. Some iron relics also came out. Our recoveries allowed us to reconstruct entire Chinese pieces; a two-tiered blue meat dinner with a plate, a white glazed dish, a tea pot, bottle bottles, a freezer, a clay pot, a chamber pot, an oil lamp balloon, a clay tube John himself burned. It was a beautiful fiber broken by ceramics that would bring winter satisfaction. I was living in Reavilton while we were cleaning, conserving and rebuilding the social environment one hundred years before I was born. Never the less slowly did we re-enter life in Reaville. Again they were the focus of attention; life of the party.
As the local industry expanded, an iron mine was opened on a hill above the Tangascootac creek. A furnace was built in the woods along with a irrigated sawmill, houses, and school. I was sure that the monolithic structure mentioned on my map would have an iron furnace. So we searched through the woods. Our path became impassable; Depths of 3 feet deep with water allow us to cancel the vehicle and walk. My 1872 map of the area identified a stream as a "kiln run". One of the things I've learned is that place names generally match history; in this direction we set off along the brush and mountain slopes until we reached the well-worn trail. The cinnamon sticks were heavily hung, as if the forest would appear in the dark. I had no idea how flat it might be or if it still existed; often the stones of the structures recur in subsequent years. We drove far into the deep winds and the trees cleared all the light at a distance. I made my way up the steep slope and sat on the cliff to see the river. It was 45 feet high and 30 feet square to see the huge stone structure. An ancient pyramid, standing in a valley of the valley, as the sunlight passes through it, as if sending out the sky. The excitement created an underwhelming experience as I was just finding the structure. I took my friend to the edge of the cliff but in all its glory he could not see the furnace when it was camouflaged between the vines, which turned green. At times he understood what my excitement was.
The furnace is 45 meters high and nearly the same size and length and width as large as iron crossings and wooden supports. The four arches, on one side, lead to areas where molten iron has been poured into ingots and drilling molds. It is obvious that the pipeline works for the air. The above is a traditional mountain furnace.
We descended the steep hill and crossed the stream over the huge stone structure as the sunlight shone on the furnace; to see the sight. Other foundations were scattered among the forests in favor of the smelting operation.
In the Tangascootac region there is good quality iron, and in 1857 the Tangascootac Coal Company; The name of the operation in Reavilton involved the manufacture of a furnace and iron, but the operation was soon interrupted, as was the case with coal mining. However, enough was done to prove that there was an abundance of ore. iron to be of good quality I was able to locate the remnants of limestone near the furnace that were used to generate enough heat to burn iron and the remains of a location. The iron melts at about 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit, so the furnace had to last 24 hours a day to prevent it from cooling, and 2-3 tonnes of coke were needed to recover the temperature. XIX. By the mid-19th century, coke was used for coal, instead of cold and cold, for steam for electricity instead of water and steel shells, instead of piles of fire lined piles.
This furnace allows us to see the day-to-day technology transition. He was using coke, however, one of the aquariums driving mechanical irrigation that was in operation. The fire was used in part but still with a pile of stone between the piles of sandstone and the stone furnaces. In the early years, the blast turned the water into a wheel. Also, the socket (early furnaces) operated, or the pistons were inserted and brought in from the outside to create an air blast. I think the Reavilton furnace used some tube pistons on the right side of that furnace next to a furnace. When firefighting was discontinued around 1820, two wooden pipes were used. Each pair contained one tube inside the other, with appropriate leather containers. As the inner tube of one pair was coming down and sucking in the air, the inner tube of the other pair was rising and the air was compressing. The flow of air to a storage tank via a leather valve was regulated. The combination of air blowing on the coke covers created the extreme temperatures required to melt the iron.
Even though the operations to be carried out in an explosion furnace probably required about fifteen or twenty men, other work connected with the furnace, such as cutting wood, carrying coke and limestone, collecting food for workers and horses, carrying mines and pigs, increasing the number of workers it was until the age of sixty and eighty.
Hard liquid was requested by the staff. It was as necessary or as it seems to be food. As most furnaces were built far from the villages, near the raw material and water power, there was little or no leisure opportunity; and as a result, men resorted to drinking as a way to spend their leisure time.
The furnace was built near a hill that was about the same level as the top of a furnace. Banks were taken to load this furnace. For this purpose the bridge between the pile and the "bank" was used. My instinct told me that the bridge would be where to find fuel samples that were being used to burn lava. Suffice it to say, I found the coke and limestone I was looking for. My friend placed a cow bell on the ground, even when it was used in a horse or mule that contained raw resources.
We placed the remains of three buildings above the kiln; there were jobs for workers who needed to work around the clock. A track leading to the Tangascootac creek is located on the hilltop auditorium of the Iron Mine, which slopes down its falling axis. Below were the remains of an irrigated sawmill. The area is surrounded by iron, slag and islands. Round pieces of iron can be found reminiscent of meteorites.
From there we reached the valley and got to know the base of the iron masters' house. It is a larger house than the staff, but smaller than General Reaville's. There were probably 6-7 bedrooms, with front and rear doors, glass windows and a hose at the back of the house. The iron master was in control of the whole furnace, and in the latter John Reaville alone. Although I still need to know the details of the individual, it is no doubt that he came from Europe with an expert in the operation of furnaces.
John Reaville and his wife lived happily and alone in their mansion until he died of heart disease, manifested in a weak and declining condition, on the twenty-second day of August, 1876, at the age of seventy-one, and was killed in masonry. rites.
A year later, less than seven days later, his wife, Elishaba, aged seventy-seven, died at Danville Hospital, never the same woman after her husband's death. There is an eight-and-a-half-foot-tall white marble at Highland Cemetery in Lock Haven with its graves.
After his death, the rumor started that Reaville was buried with bags of money in the basement of his mansion, under the floor.
A short time later, a man appeared at the Reaville mansion. It was acknowledged that a hospital worker had shared Mrs. Reaville's secret with her husband. He stayed home only for days and the curious passing foresters chased after him. A blunt reply refused them. Then the man was not seen again. Visitors who came to this place found the floor of the cellar pierced, the wine vault demolished, and the stone foundations removed in many places. He knew enough about his wife to have a golden corner when his wife died.
The railroad was demolished and hundreds of buildings were damaged and damaged. Later, forest fires consumed all traces and today there are only a few stone and green areas.
The abandoned furnace, built by John Reaville, and burned an astonishing thousand tons of coal, is the only one of hundreds of structures standing in the valley that is now recovering in the wild. The furnace was covered, the stone walls on the edge of the furnace, it does not look like the tower of an old English castle and the remains.