Simple Remembering

Sometimes it's something simple that takes you back 40 years in a flash. This knife on it's own is meaningless to anyone but me. My mother just gave it to me when she found it in some of my grandfathers old stuff.  My grandfather  bought this farmhouse in the middle of the woods back in the 1940's  and always wore it when he was up here. 

 This knife scaled fish, gutted deer and probably opened more than its fair share of cans when a can opener couldn't be found. This was a mountain knife. It was never worn at home in the city only when he came here. This knife transformed my grandfather into a mountain man. It made he feel like a pioneer providing for his family in the middle of no where; no electric, no phone just him and the woods.

The knife is a bit rusty, the sheath a bit worn, but it is still sharp as sharp as memories of seeing him wear it as a kid following him in the mountains of Pa. I did not know as a child  I would come to live on this ground and share his passion for this very special place. This post is for my Grandfather, a strong, stubborn, Irish man, who worked hard all his life and loved this place. By the way Grandpa we not only have a phone now...we got internet! Mountain girl, Paula, logging out.

Road signs of the past

Here are a few more pictures from the Red Rock Camp on area roads. The first picture from left to right is Clair Amand, Eugen(Gene) Garber, and Frank Amand on Leetonia Rd. The sign describing the narrowness of the bridge pretty much explains the width of the entire road. You can see how the road drops off from where they are standing not a fun trip in the snow and ice. This picture was taken in Nov of 1947.

The next picture is Gene at a road intersection wearing a cowboy hat. This picture was taken in Aug of 1948. Seems they had better road marker signs then we have today. Sometimes it is necessary to put up our own signs to get people to find us. A combination of flags and signs usually works well. The only problem with this is everyone does it so it isn't uncommon to see plastic ribbons on trees almost every mile coming up the road marking something or another. The loggers use them, the hunters use them and camp owners makes for a little confusion at best.

The one good thing is that a couple of years ago the State started 911 marking back here. So for the first time we have a real address instead of a plot number. This has made it easier to tell people which place yours is once they get close. However, too many people rely on mapquest and GPS which may or may not get you here. It has been known to take people around the other side of the mountain and that detour can cost you 20 miles. As most of you know our "blocks" are entire mountains and going around them is a big trip not something you want to do on a low tank of gas.

Last night was a beautiful star-lite night and today promises to be another great day maybe a little on the warm side in the 80's, but dry and blue skies. Have a great Leetonia Day! Mountain girl, Paula, logging out.

The Family Door

I am not quite sure how the door started, but I remember it was my Grandmother's idea to start measuring the five grandkids every year when they came up to camp. The door hung at the bottom of the stairs about 5" off the ground, which allowed lots of room to measure growing kids. Although kids weren't the only thing that got measured the family dog, parents, grandparents and a few friends of the family made the door.

The door was taken off at least twenty years ago when the stairs was remodeled and no longer needed a door. The latest date I found on the door was 1974 and it measured my ex-husband Bill. Coincidentally it is the tallest measurement at 6'2". The shortest human measurement was my brother, David, who in 1966 was about 35" tall.

I seem to have the biggest one year growth spurt in the family of 5 1/4" in one year between 65 and 66(I was 12-13 then). I think I was the skinniest for my height the next year at 94 lbs and 5'31/2" tall. I am the only person to have a weight recorded as well as height, so my grandmother must have thought it noteworthy as well.

I know she worried about me eating enough and was always trying to feed me. Grandma being a farm girl figured something wrong with you if you didn't eat eggs. I hated eggs so she devised ways to get me to eat them. Not the least of which persists today adding chocolate chips to hard boiled eggs. I pretty much gross people out when I do it. But I never liked the taste of the white part of the egg and that covers it up.

Many camps have diaries we have a door that tells a story of the growth and visits of five grandchildren to their grandparents camp. I am not sure what to do with the door it is starting to fall apart like all things made of wood. It is large and difficult to display. I was all ready to turn it into a shelf in my garage when a tinge of guilt seemed to make me stop. Are the pictures of it enough to carry the memory? There seems to be something mystical about touching it. You can feel yourself standing next to it with a ruler on top your head and a relative marking a line in pencil. When you turn around there is always a comment about how much you have grown. If you are the youngest one you look up at your brothers or sister and dream of catching them, especially after you pass a few of their early marks. For my youngest brother, David the dream of catching the others was lost when the door came down long before he could make a high enough mark on the wall.

If you have any suggestions as to what I should do with the door...let me know. I have decided to use a different old door for the shelf for now. One that doesn't talk back. Mountain girl, Paula, logging out.

The Savage 99

Hunt Camp Memories by Harry White
Harry White is from Philadelphia , PA. and about to retire from the University of Pennsylvania after 43 years. A family relative owns the trailer (Fox Chase Hunt Camp)(the sign is going up next season) next to the Ruins Camp and we have had use of the camp for the past six years. Our camp is mostly family with my sons, daughter in-law, and several grandchildren.
The picture (with the deer) is my son Harry White(4th); all were taken in our camp in Leetonia. The group picture contains row left to right my sons Mike White, Harry White (4th), Jimmy White, and myself Harry White (3rd). Front row left to right grandsons Harry White (5th) and James White. The picture (with the deer) is my son Harry White; all were taken in our camp in Leetonia.


About fifty plus years ago I was coming of age to hunt with my father. On a day in September my father and I hopped into the family truck to go shopping. We ended up in a gun store where my father bought me my first and only hunting rifle. It was a Savage model 99 and it was just like the one he hunted with all his hunting trips with my Grandfather. Well as time passed so did my father but every time I pick up my rifle I always think of my trips with him. My father’s rifle has been passed on to my sons and my oldest son (also name sake) wanted to use it to try to honor his grandfather by bagging a deer. Well this year in Leetonia his dream came true during a morning hunt. An 8 point deer crossed in front of the old iron sites and the ammunition from 1950 still worked!
Sure it’s nice to bag a deer but the thing that impressed me is the memories that are built and passed on during these family times. I realized that as my grandchildren hike the trails and sit around our campfires in Leetonia they are building memories and who knows one of them just might carry my old model 99.

Camp Stories "Stetztown"

Here are some of the boys of Stetztown, back row: Barry Stickler, David Anspach, Keven Tobias; front row: Richard Fortuna and John Tobias.

The next two pictures are from inside the camp.

The following information was relayed to me mostly by John Tobias.

In 1939, my dad, Edgar S. Tobias, stayed first at Junction Hotel at 414, then at Cedar Run Inn when he came up hunting. Then he decided to build a place of his own. At that time you could pick out a piece of property to lease from the State and build a camp on it. Edgar picked out two places and the State wouldn’t let him build there. Then he came up this Painter Leetonia Road and staked out this place with a 99 year lease.

When the camp started there were seven members. They contacted a log building company in Maine, called Shaw and order a $2400 log cabin kit. The logs came down by rail from Jersey Shore, loaded on two big trucks. When they reached the first steel bridge it wouldn’t hold the weight in one of the trucks and it had to be unloaded and reloaded on the other side. The trucks dumped everything at the road. A contractor from Wellsboro laid block foundation for the camp; and a man and two sons from Maine came down to erect it.

Edgar S. Tobias, John’s father, had clothing store come up after supper on Friday, an 8 hour drive, from Williamsport. At that time the roads were dirt all the way up from Williamsport. The streets in Williamsport were brick or wood block at that time.

Lowe lived down the road in Leetonia and had four boys helped with cabin. The Lowes used to guide hunters through the mountains. It took a lot of help to get the purlins up on the camp. It took them a year and a half to get the roof on. They had enough lumber left to put the front porch on and build the log outhouse, which was demolished 14 years ago. During the early year they had a Heatrola in the middle of the camp to heat the camp. They had electric from the beginning by using a generator and 24 12-volt car batteries. They affectionately called this the Delco System. In the fifties electric came to the Leetonia area by pole.

Stetztown started with seven members then went to nine members until Edgar died in 1960. John Tobias just turned 18 and got his father’s share in the camp. Then members went up to 20, which is the number they have today.

Some of their favorite memories are:

For John at six…riding his tricycle down the stairs and into the coal bin where he bit is tongue in two. They drove him unconscious from the pain to Wellboro were a doctor clamped it together and saved his tongue.

The deer drive in the Fahneystock area: A six-point deer was spotted a long distance away near a birch tree. Thirty-five shots were fired and on the thirty-sixth shot the deer dropped. The guides weren’t happy since they were sent to climb up and down the steep cliffs to retrieve the deer

David Anspach’s favorite memory is hunting with his Grandfather the year before his grandfather died of cancer. His grandfather shot a buck that was flanking down the hill in 3 shots as it crossed the road. David remarks, “Man that was a hell of a shot, but he didn’t want a fuss made over him.”

The last memory involves a drive at my cabin. Where part of the hunting party waited on the porch for the rain to stopped while the others drove the deer. It never stopped raining and the ones under the porch were always envied for their dry position. And to this day they know which hunter’s got the porch and which ones got wet. As far as I know no deer were injured in the porch drive.

John Tobias said the most deer we ever shot were fifteen and seven of them were on the hill behind my house. I can like them remember seeing fifty to a hundred deer on my hill in the evenings. Now we are lucky to see two or three.

I asked why they think the deer population is down so much? The Stetztown boys blame the Game Commission for giving out doe licenses up here and too many licenses for the area. They said the first year this happened we believe around 1968 there was a deer slaughter and the deer have never come back from that day.

Mountain Girl, Paula, logging out.

Rattlesnakes and memories

This is in response to a nice email I received from Peter saying he was enjoying the blog and recalling his time as a youth in Leetonia during the 70's.

According to Peter his family owned the cabin in the first two pictures, which is now owned by Cassels. Peter's memories are as follows:
Our cabin was built by my dad as a pre-fab home. As you drive up the very steep hill on the way to Wally's, ours was the first cabin on the right.....just above the Cassels (our relatives). It was red/rust with a small shed in the front that my dad built. It had a screened in back porch.

We would drive down from central New York often and enter from Ansonia. I remember how excited I'd get as we'd gas up at the Ansonia gas station before entering the forest. Writing about it now makes me realize how much I miss it, and what a special place Leetonia is.

I remember Dad had interviewed Leo Bailey, who had been born in Leetonia and he had given dad a, autobiography and pictures of Leetonia back in the logging days. On the quietest of afternoons there, I had difficulty trying to imagine how different Leetonia was in the early 1900's with barely a tree in sight.

Peter also recalled being nervous walking around "The Ruins", shown in the last two pictures because of the rattlesnakes in the old Tannery Foundations. I can tell you from personal experience his nervousness is well founded. I have seen two Timber Rattlers in that area one on the road going up to his old place.

If you haven't been up for a while you will notice the Ruins added on to their camp last year..the siding is still waiting to be finished. Also for all of you wanting more information don't worry there is a lot to tell about Leetonia. I will repost some of the stories I have had published in the near future on this blog. Until then, Mountain Girl, Paula, Logging Out!