Leetonia Railroad

Dropping logs from train

Not many trees left on the mountain

Leetonia Train late 1880's

There was a time you could hear a train whistle blow in Leetonia a time of loggers, trains, mills and the tannery. The time Leetonia bustled with work and tough men and women carving a life out of the wilderness. Driving through Leetonia now you would never know that life existed.  All that is left now are a few of the houses turned into seasonal camps a hint of where the old railroad beds lay buried in brush and trees along with and crumbled foundations and many a working man and woman's dreams.  

Many people died in Leetonia by disease or from the dangerous work of logging on step slopes and working on the railroad. Such was the fate of John Schwab(see original story) crushed under the wheels of the Leetonia train.

Charles John Schwab 1887-1919

The young were not spared either as the graveyard still shows to all who hike up the hill where many small children under two and babies were laid to rest because of disease. Another young boy whose last name was Campbell lost his life at ten years old. The boy played near the tracks when a runaway train car ripped off his leg, then slowly and painfully took his life.  Anytime I watch the movie "Fried Green Tomatoes," I can't help but think about Leetonia's similar accidents. If you lay quiet enough on a summer day you might still hear the whistle blow, and the brakes squeal of the Leetonia Train going through the valley into the busy town of Leetonia. Mountain girl, Paula, logging out.

Leetonia Pictures from late 1800's

White House in Leetonia

Train in Leetonia

Indian Mail Box

Thanks to John Schilkin for these pictures he emailed me. They are self explanatory late 1800's. One picture the last one of the Leetonia stage brings a bit more questions about the Indian Mail Box location. I thought it was in the rocks near Red Rock Camp, but this looks like the stage is running right up to the side of the mountain. Either the stream has moved or I am in the wrong place all together. So if any of you have an exact location for the mailbox let me know. 

We still have quite a bit of snow and ice. I am hoping next week's run of warm weather will take a bigger toll on it. John can tell you first hand how much fun it is to drive on soft snow on a narrow road. Even with four-wheel drive he has a new respect for the unplowed section of Leetonia Road in March. I like to call it March madness without the sporting fun of basketball. March is about melting, mud, snow and ice and anything else the weather can dream up. April is safer they clear the road and we try to forget about winter for another season. Thanks again John for the pictures. Mountain girl, Paula, logging out and impatiently waiting for Spring.

Visitors to Leetonia

The picture to the left is of Charles John Schwab 1887-1919 born in Leetonia, Pennsylvania. His grandson named after him contacted me through reading the blog and came to Leetonia to see where his grandfather was born and died.

Charles Schwab worked for the lumber yard and loaded the trains with logs. As he was tightening a chain on logs it broke throwing him under the wheels of the train. The train severed his left leg close to his hip and severely crushed his hip. He was being hauled to Williamsport for care but died by the time they reached Cedar Run. Charles John Schwab was latter buried in the Wellsboro cemetery. Just the day before in Leetonia, Jacob Matthews a brakeman for the railroad also had a serious accident crushing his foot. He did however survive his accident. It is a reminder of how perilous working in the logging and railroad business was and still is.

I took the grandson, John, and his wife around Leetonia showing them some of what is left and pointing out where things used to be. Leetonia is a far cry from what it looked like in the days of John's grandfather. The whistle of the train has long stopped, the sound of the lumber mill silent and the smell of tanning fluid gone. But there is something about Leetonia that still stirs the imagination of things past. Sometimes it is so real you think you can hear the whistle and feel the joy and pain of the people who scraped out a living in Leetonia. One of our last stops was at the graveyard. Flags decorating the soldiers graves and a sober reminder that life didn't always make it past childhood as you look at the long line of infant graves up the side of the mountain. It is a bit of a hike up the steep slope of the cemetery and I was asked why didn't they bury people where it was flat? My only answer is flat is a premium space around here and it was generally used for building and work. I guess eternal rest was best in another space. It was also close to the school/church building that no longer exists.

Mountain girl, Paula, logging out.