The 2018 Road, Day 35: One Good Ville to Another

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June 29, 2018, Crossville, TN-

I sent a text message to an online friend in Asheville, who would not have time for a short visit, and another to a friend in Knoxville, thinking she might be joining what I figured would be a gathering of old Xanga friends, tomorrow, in this town in the western foothills of Appalachia.

I spent time in both cities, en route to my destination.  After bidding farewell to W, I headed north to I-40, then west to Asheville, stopping for an hour’s introduction to what is sure to be a key stop on future journeys across the South.  I have said, and meant, that about so many places, that I may as well hop on a Greyhound local and be done with it.  The thought is comforting, though, to say the least. It’s nice to feel welcomed, whether in new places or old.

Here are some scenes of downtown Asheville.   Here is the lobby of Asheville Community Theater, with its stage areas both to the right and extending eastward from the lobby.

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From this spot, near my parking place, on the north side, I walked back towards the city center.  Art deco towers are not common in Appalachia, but the Jackson Building, built on the site of a tombstone shop run by William Oliver Wolfe, the father of novelist Thomas Wolfe, is such an edifice.

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This braided girl, inspired perhaps by Wolfe’s “Look Homeward, Angel”, is one of several statues that grace downtown.

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Zebulon Baird Vance, like so many figures of the Confederacy, was a mass of contradictions.  He reportedly taught some slaves to read, though that was never confirmed.  A life-long Christian, he strongly advocated for total religious freedom, and fought against anti-Semitism.  He sincerely believed that freed slaves were being manipulated by the Federal government and needed a time of separation from whites, thus his insistence on imposing racial segregation in North Carolina, during his post-war term as governor.  This unfortunate series of actions has re-ignited a debate, as to whether his name should be removed from this obelisk, in Pack Square.  Asheville, in recent years, has been a socially forward-thinking community. So, the Vance Memorial is something of an anomaly.

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One other unique feature of Pack Square is a series of farm animal sculptures, whose purpose is unclear.

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West of Pack Square, there are a number of small cafes. Being in the mood for a Cubano, I chose Bomba Latin Cafe.  The place was a friendly introduction to Asheville’s active foodie scene and the sandwich was all a Cubano should be- freshly shaved pork, with shredded cabbage and small, diced bits of Habanero pepper, on a freshly-baked bun.

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Well-nourished, I got back to my car, with six minutes to spare.  I got in one more full view of downtown, from Pack Square, before heading back onto the freeway. Asheville City Hall is visible, in the background.SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

I had plenty of company, headed west, as I-40 was packed with people headed to the Great Smokies.  Once past the exits to Boone, Cherokee and Gatlinburg, the sailing was a bit smoother. My primary stop in Knoxville was to service my Elantra, at Big O Tires.  Being expected in Crossville by 5:30, or so, I headed straight here, once the service was finished.  Knoxville has  several places of fascination, not the least of which is my online friend’s art gallery.  These wait for a visit more focused on that area.

Settling in to the serene home of L and C, I look forward to tomorrow’s gathering, however large or small it may turn out to be.

The 2018 Road, Day 34: The Door Never Closes

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June 28, 2018, Salisbury, NC-

I first encountered W, in 2002, when he arrived in Phoenix, from his native Liberia.  At that time, he was recovering from a severe injury and was one of thousands of refugees from his then-war torn homeland.  He had been a journalist, writing for Monrovia’s daily newspaper, when his injuries occurred.

Like more than a few Africans living in Phoenix, he became a trusted friend and we have maintained a correspondence, ever since.  He has left Arizona and is now comfortably settled in a simple home, in this pleasant city of the Piedmont.  Salisbury is about an hour northeast of Charlotte, and seems to not have, as yet, become saddled with major urban sprawl.

I woke to a calm morning, in Timmonsville, about two hours further southeast of here.  As I suspected, there is an unnamed breakfast and lunch counter, inside the Mobil Station.  I walked across the street and discovered The Hot Plate- more than the microwave stand I had suspected would be there.  Instead, an effusive man of about 35 and a shy girl, who seemed to be about 15, were behind a full-service breakfast & lunch counter.  The man took my order and both set to work, he on the sausage and the girl on the eggs and pancakes.  She brought a fabulous breakfast plate to my small table, in eight minutes’ time.  Several other people- mostly customers, plus two women who seemed to have some role in running the show, came in and out during my leisurely breakfast.   After paying my bill, and giving the bemused girl a healthy tip, I reflected that places like The Hot Plate are what keep small-town America connected with the open road.  I would go in there again, were I to find myself in Timmonsville-or, as this sign would have it, in

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I headed, in earnest, towards Salisbury, and arrived at W’s place in a couple of hours.  There, a comfortable bed for the night, and a steaming pot of Liberian pork stew, with heaping portions of rice, awaited.  African hospitality is second to none-even in the simplest of homes.

On the way there, I picked up a few more gift items, as a few families in the small town of Mc Bee, SC were holding a fund-raiser and the bake sale was too good to pass up.  Mc Bee is also notable for this:

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Salisbury has several solid Federal period and Beaux  Arts era architectural gems.  I stopped to note  a few of these, whilst driving towards W’s apartment.

Perhaps most prominent, from the east, is the Bell Tower of First Presbyterian Church.

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Driving westward, St. John’s Lutheran Church becomes equally impressive.

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In Salisbury’s Veteran’s Cemetery, this memorial to World War II dead is at the western gate to the grounds.

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This is the old Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church, west of the cemetery.

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I found a most happy W, waiting outside his apartment complex.  It’s been a while since he had any visitors from out of town.

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Here is a view of the park, down the street from his complex.

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After my hearty lunch of stew and rice, W and I walked to a Walgreen’s where I could get a spare dental care kit, as mine was possibly lost. I also got a spare razor and blades, while W talked of his joyful walks along Salisbury’s main commercial street.  He keeps away from the Confederate Memorial that greets the traveler coming in from the East.  Otherwise, he has walked all over the town, making friends as he goes.

I found, however, that there was little evidence of racial tension here, as W’s  White cross street neighbours were quite cordial, and there was plenty of friendly interaction during my own downtown visit.

Rowan County Courthouse is an impressive Federal Era structure.  This block celebrates George Washington’s visit here, following the American Revolution.

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The same detail has kept the County Administration Building in good repair, for over 150 years.

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Away from downtown, the west and south sides feature several older gems.  Below, is Chambers House, from the Revolutionary Period.

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Here is another view of the Bell Tower, as it is near Chambers House.

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This tiny salt box house was the Henderson Law Office, built in 1796.

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I spent a few moments checking out a south side block, from whence there is another fine view of the Bell Tower.

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Here is a three-part look at the south side’s finest mural, entitled “Crossroads-Past Into Present”.  It shows Salisbury life, circa 1900 and was completed in 2001.  The artists are Cynvia Rankin, Earle Kluttz and Raines Thompson.  Ms. Rankin was the primary artist on this project, commissioned by  Rowan Art Guild.

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W and I spent a great deal of time just talking of life in Arizona, as compared to North Carolina.  The latter is certainly a less frenetic and cheaper place to live, by and large.  He also told me much about Liberia, and his journalistic experience during the country’s Civil War.  We watched a lengthy Baha’i video, as well.  Our conversation tended to be more far ranging than those we’ve had over the phone. W speaks at a fast clip, so line of sight works better for me, in understanding him.

It has been another relaxing day, though, knowing I am in a place of friendship.

NEXT:  Across the Great Smokies, to Crossville

 

The 2018 Road, Day 27:The Flow of Kindred Souls

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June 21, 2018, Hemingway, SC-

I did accomplish a goal of three years’ running:  A simple dinner with a young woman who is like a daughter to me.  C and I met up at Jenna’s Cafe, Virginia Beach, after I negotiated a busy, but peaceful causeway from Williamsburg to V.B., via Norfolk.

After a couple hours of encouragement from me, it was time for her to head back home and prepare for another day’s work.  She has the wherewithal to go far in her field, and to continue doing a fine job with her children.

I found a reasonable motel in Newport News and rested well, preparing for a southward journey.   My next goal would be Louis Gregory Baha’i Institute, Hemingway.  The center is used for spiritual education and gatherings. It is named for an early African-American Baha’i, who was a prominent attorney.  He chose to move to the South, in the midst of the Jim Crow era, and whilst abiding by the laws of the time, he worked behind the scenes to gradually ease the discrimination, which hobbled oppressed and oppressor, alike.

On this summer solstice, I chose to bypass Richmond, and drove a straight shot through North Carolina, to which I will return, next week. A leisurely drive into South Carolina’s pine woods brought me to LGBI,

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES just in time to meet the caretaker, before he closed up for the night.G generously gave me accommodations for the night, for which I offered a nominal contribution, this being a place that operates on a shoestring budget. LGBI was established in 1972, to assist the large number of people in northeastern South Carolina, who had shown interest in the Baha’i Faith.

Here are some scenes from around the small campus. The first three are from the Main Hall.  The patchwork quilt was made by junior youth, ages 11-14.

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Mr. Gregory is shown below, with his English-born wife, Louisa.  Theirs was one of the first interracial marriages performed legally in the United States.

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After settling into my night’s lodging, I made a visit to downtown Hemingway, for dinner, finding the lovely and welcoming Fish Net Seafood Market.

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Across the street from LGBI is a Baha’i- affiliated radio station, named-what else: WLGI!

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I find my accommodations for the night quite refreshing, and another unfinished goal from 2007 is realized.

NEXT:  Return to Greenville

 

The 2018 Road, Day 25, Part 1: Jamestown’s Three Communities

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June 19, 2018, Jamestown, VA-

After a lovely visit, yesterday evening, with one of Penny’s second cousins, I meandered through the interior of Maryland’s Western Shore and spent the night in the regional commercial hub of Lexington Park.  This morning, after enjoying a breakfast sandwich at Donut Connection, I headed towards the southern tip of St. Marys County, a spot called Cape Lookout.  It turns out to be a private community, called Scotland Beach. Nevertheless, there was a small turnaround area, where the residents look the other way, while a visitor takes a photo or two.

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Point Lookout also has a state park, which I am sure is lovely, but it is cash only, so I headed back towards the town of St. Marys, which was Maryland’s first capital, in provincial days.

Point Lookout was a Prisoner of War camp, for captured Confederate soldiers, between 1862-65.  A memorial to those who died whilst incarcerated, stands just north of the state park. Although I have no sympathy for slaveholders, these were soldiers, and I paid my respects.

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St. Marys is a lovely town, along the river of the same name. I stuck to the highway, as a bridge with hideous traffic was between here and Jamestown, and I wanted to get there by 1 PM, at the latest.

These scenes were taken across from the entrance to St. Marys College.

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After spending forty minutes on the aforementioned bridge, and nearly being rammed by a vehicle whose driver was busy texting, whilst going 40 miles an hour, in bumper to bumper traffic, I enjoyed a rather pleasant drive through Virginia’s Upper Tidewater, and got to Jamestown around 12:40.

The entrance to Jamestown National Historic Park has 50 plaques, describing how each state came to enter the Union.

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The Great Hall has several exhibits that detail Jamestown’s three early communities:  The Powhatan Nation, long-established here, when the settlers arrived; the English settlers, who began to arrive in 1607 and slaves brought from Angola, southern Africa, beginning in 1619.  There are examples of the homes and daily lives of each group, in various sections of the Great Hall.

The first section describes the lives of the Powhatan and their neighbours.  The house below is a typical Powhatan home of that period.

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This is the inside of an early English hut in James Fort, as replicated in the Great Hall.

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Model of ship used to transport goods and people, along the coast.

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Once outside the Great Hall, it was time to get a sense of how the actual settlement looked.  Discovery Tower is the last remaining structure from the days when Jamestown was Virginia’s capital.   It was a church tower.

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Visitors to frontier towns, up and down the North American coast. faced piked fences around the fortified villages.SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESCannons were posted at various points along the wall’s mezzanine.  Spanish, as well as Indian, raids were a constant concern at Jamestown, as were attacks by pirates.

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The thatching that was common, across the British Isles, became common in the early English settlements as well.

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I visited several of the buildings.  This is the interior of the community church.  Unlike the later colonies in New England, Jamestown pledged fealty to the Anglican Church.

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Here is the supply wall of the guard house.  Guards manned this fort, 24/7.

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Here is the storehouse for the village.

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These bells were rung by the guards, to alert settlers of danger.

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In the Governor’s House, the governor’s manservant slept near the front door.

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This was the Governor’s home office.

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The Governor had some privacy in his sleeping area.

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With my self-guided tour of James Fort complete, I walked towards the James River front.  A replica of an early dugout canoe lay above the shore.

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The Susan Constant is a replica of the largest of a small fleet  of ships which sailed between Jamestown and England.

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Imagine yourself manning this crow’s nest!

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Here is a typical bunk for a crew member on any of the fleet’s ships.

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As this grate indicates, humans worked in  a hold, under the main deck.

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Here is what lies below deck. Yes, it was hot down there.

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As it was getting close to closing time, I headed towards Powhatan Village.

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Here is the interior of the Council House.

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A more typical family house is below.  It appears this dwelling was the home of a prominent village elder.

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This is the ceremonial circle. The posts represent the guardian spirits of the village.

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The staff was leaving, so I was as well.  I stopped for a view of the James River, just outside the park.

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Like any replica of life in the mists of history, Jamestown is constantly evolving as archaeologists unearth more evidence from the dig site, a short distance to the north.

So, I checked off another place missed during our 2007 trip.  I’m sure even more discoveries would await, were I to return some years from now.  For now, I am headed to Williamsburg, for the night, and Yorktown, tomorrow morning.

 

The 2018 Road, Day 24:Baltimore, Part 2- Proof Through The Night, and the Years

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June 18, 2018, Baltimore-

Fort McHenry, in Baltimore’s outer Harbor, was one of the places, on our 2007 Virtual Field Trip organizing itinerary, that had to be left off, owing to changes that had to be made in our schedule and due to the rickety old wheelchair needing repair-which was done in New Jersey.

I had a day with which to play here, so even with the aborted visit to Poe House, I stuck with the plan to spend 2-3 hours at Fort McHenry and have lunch at an Inner Harbor eatery.

The Fort is off by itself, at the mouth of the Northwest Branch of the Patapsco River.

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My first forty five minutes were spent listening to a docent explain, in detail, the life and contradictions of Francis Scott Key, a slaveowner who taught his charges to read and write;  an opponent of the War of 1812, who was nonetheless moved to commemorate the Battle of Baltimore in the verses which became our National Anthem;  a patriot, who ended up sitting out the battle, on a British sloop, after successfully negotiating the release of an American physician from British military custody.

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In the background, during the lecture, were playing diverse versions of “The Star-Spangled Banner”, including Jim Hendrix’s 1969 rendition, from the Woodstock Festival.

The docent then took us outside, for further stories of the fort and its various functions, while we headed to the main ramparts.

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After the British successfully sacked and burned Washington, DC and raided Alexandria,  in 1814, they headed towards Baltimore.   Meeting them were these cannons of Fort McHenry and a combined artillery battery at Forts Babcock, Covington and Look-Out, across outer Harbor.  The combined fusillade, witnessed by Key, aboard the sloop, both convinced the British to abandon hope of capturing the “crown jewel” of wealthy, bustling Baltimore and Key to write his stirring verse. It is often overlooked, though, that the song became our National Anthem in 1931.

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Below, we see the breastworks, in which ammunition was stored, whilst providing cover for the American forces.

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A lone cannon is seen, facing the Patapsco, atop the eastern earthworks.

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Here is the  entry to an ammunition depot, showing clearly how vital it was for the earthworks to be properly constructed.

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A series of barracks housed American soldiers and Marines, during the War of 1812.  These same buildings housed Confederate prisoners of war, between 1862-65.SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

This dining room and office was used by Major General Samuel Smith, the post commander.

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Here is a view of ammunition, stored  in an above-ground safe room.

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This artillery park was well-guarded by four breastworks.

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The Army Band was an essential morale-booster for troops preparing for battle. The Band’s quarters were on the west end of the barracks.

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These shelters were built to safeguard the troops, following the shelling of 1814, but were never needed again, after the British were repulsed.

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In this stretch of the Patapsco, Sailing Master Beverly Diggs, USN, had several merchant ships scuttled and sunk, to deter any British ships from closely approaching the Inner Harbor.  The action had its desired effect.

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The southwestern corner of the park features this large ammunition magazine, not open to the public.

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In 1922, Charles Niehaus, sculptor, completed a statue of Orpheus, the Greek musician of legend, in honour of Francis Scott Key.  It stands, between the Magazine and the Visitors Center.

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Thus is the story of one of America’s unfortunate, but perhaps necessary, conflicts very well told, at one of its two most resonant battle sites.

I ended my Baltimore experience, this time, at Iron Rooster, near outer Harbor, in the Canton neighbourhood.

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Of course, Inner Harbor and Federal Hill are for another time.  Baltimore ever beckons, and the hostel is always a welcoming haven.

NEXT:  Southwest Maryland and Jamestown

 

 

Just Because…

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July 23, 2108, Prescott-

Of course, my accounts of my travels will continue, later today.  My mind was roiling, earlier this morning, with a feeling that someone was silently accusing me of prejudice, for not settling into another relationship, for not ending my widowhood.  Penny appeared to me afterward, in my mind’s eye, and told me:

“You love, intensely.

Just because you have no romantic feelings for anyone in your present Baha’i community does not make you callous, unfeeling, prejudiced.

You are there for each person, helping each as needed.

That does not require you to fit into a niche.

You love, intensely

Just because you have a strong friendship with a woman who is of entirely different mindset, in terms of Faith, does not mean you are disloyal to Baha’u’llah.

Conversely, as I’ve told you before, you and she are steadfast friends, no more, no less. You would gladly see her find someone who will cherish her, forever.

You love, intensely.

You see your younger co-workers as if they were your own daughters.  Their struggles are your own and you help them where they need help, taking nothing from their dignity.

You love, intensely.

Each day, whether on the road or at what you call Home Base, the needs, large and small, of women, men and children who cross your path have as much urgency as your own.

Just because some are, occasionally, put off by what they see as your shortcomings or errors, does not mean you are unworthy of respect.  They have their own burdens.

Carry on, my love.  As time continues, your true destiny will keep on unfolding.  You have miles to go.”

With that, my angst subsided.

 

The 2018 Road, Day 24: Baltimore, Part 1- A Shiny Mount Vernon and Poe’s Hardy Neighbours

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June 18, 2018, Baltimore-

I came to this sometimes struggling, but always fascinating harbour town last night, settling in to Hostels International- Baltimore, in its historic Mount Vernon neighbourhood.  The hostel is clean, comfortable and staffed by friendly folk.  The night manager moved his car over, so that I could fit mine into the relatively safe space, behind the hostel.  This little patio, if a bit cramped looking, was a relaxing spot for breakfast.

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I had last stopped and spent time in the city in 1972-what seems like eons ago. Then, it was to visit with an Army buddy and his family, in the suburb of Essex. I had arrived too late at night to call on them , but fortunately found a kind soul who put me up for the night, in Mount Vernon, as luck would have it.  I lost track of my buddy, only knowing that his brother died, three years ago and their parents, who I treasured, sometime back.

Bal’mer, though, has kept on, and keeps itself rather polished.  I took a short walk around Mount Vernon, this morning, taking in The Basilica of Baltimore, its Roman Catholic Cathedral and a few other sites at the northern edge of downtown.  The Basilica of the  National Shrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, as it is officially known, was completed in 1837, thus its late Federal Period architecture. It is the first Roman Catholic Cathedral built in the  United States, having been built by John Henry Latrobe, the “Father of American Architecture.”

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Enoch Pratt, a  local industrialist and philanthropist of the mid- 19th Century, helped establish Baltimore’s Central Public Library, in 1882.  It is another anchor point of Mount Vernon and Cathedral Hill.

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The New Unity Church Ministries is a balance to the large presence of the Cathedral.  Beyond, you can see the high rises of downtown’s edge.

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I left Mount Vernon, around 10 a.m. and headed off in search of Edgar Allan Poe House. It is in a mixed income neighbourhood, at the edge of a public housing project.  The area residents were a bit surprised at my presence there-mainly because the house is only open from Thursday-Sunday, and then only from 11-4.  Nonetheless, today was when I was here, and so I did get a photo of the exterior.

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With this brief, but pleasant, visit to central Baltimore a fait accompli, I headed to this day’s main focus:  Fort Mc Henry.

The 2018 Road, Day 22: No Greater Heights Than This

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June 16, 2018, Philadelphia-

It doesn’t surprise me, in the least, that this family of mine has given my mother’s youngest grandchild a spectacular launch into her own little family unit.  She is much loved, across the board and has maintained a solid, unifying presence among us, and well before the advent of social media. B helped me with her aunt, when I had to get Beloved to a restroom, down a freight elevator, and through an obscure section of an old hotel, years ago. She maintained contact with those of my nephews who were off, alone, at colleges that were some distance from the rest of the family.  She kept in touch with my son, when it would have been easy to leave him to his own devices, in the days of his naval  basic training and early regular duty.

So, we all came to Christ Church, expanding our family by one new grandson-in-law and one future granddaughter-in-law for our blessed matriarch to cherish.

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The above should give readers a frame of reference.  We were asked, by the rector, to not photograph the ceremony or the inside.  The newlyweds have plenty of photos to share, in that respect, and I leave it at that.

The ceremony did not start, however, until 4 P.M., so there was time for me to look further around the Independence Historic District, before Aram and YH were ready to meet for lunch.  Here is Congress Hall, where the Federal legislative branch met from December, 1790- May, 1800. .

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The Main Gallery of Independence Hall is below.

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Next along my walk was the Liberty Bell Pavilion, of which more tomorrow.SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

Here is Old City Hall, which also served as the first U.S. Supreme Court Chamber.

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Below is the Second Bank of the United States Portrait Gallery.

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Here is a view into the Independence Hall courtyard.

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Having to meet Aram and YH, I hurried on over to the Center for Art in Wood.  They were suitably impressed by the gallery and by its shop.

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The three of us enjoyed a nice lunch at Cafe Ole, across the street from CAIW.  We then strolled around Betsy Ross House and briefly considered purchasing a 13-star flag.

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For now, though, this shadowy replica of the original Stars and Stripes will suffice.

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We will keep the wedding photos within the family, but I do want to share a few of the reception venue:  Knowlton Mansion.  Once again, the staff did their parts admirably, as did the band and vocalist.  As for me, I cut loose and danced more this evening than I have in about eighteen years.

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I do wish to share the intact wedding cake- always an affirmation of  good fortune and fertility.  The first, I wish for the new branch of the family.  The second is their business, alone.

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In any event, this day will long live as among the most beautiful with which I have had the pleasure of being involved- in at least seven years.

NEXT:  Father’s Day, Full Tilt

The 2018 Road, Day 21: In the Streets of Brotherly Love

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June 15, 2018, Philadelphia-

Once upon a time, a teenaged girl looked at her uncle, and wondered aloud whether anyone would care to attend her wedding, when the time came.  Uncle said, unequivocally, that he would be there and that anyone who called themselves his family would be there, too.

In reality, there was never any question. Everyone from her youngest cousin (my son) to the family matriarch (Mother) made the wedding, that will take place tomorrow, a top priority.  It’s been a few years since B was a teenager, but there has been no break, whatsoever, in the love I feel for that compassionate and powerful young lady.  She has made a solid life for herself, following her father’s example of being largely self-reliant and choosing the field of education-which probably had little or nothing to do with her uncle and aunt, on the other side of the country, being educators. I’m glad she chose teaching, anyway.  She’s darn good at it.

I arrived in Philadelphia, around 2, by way of Camden.  This was a simple matter of not getting good directions from Google Maps, finding myself on the bridge to New Jersey and turning around to get cash from a bodega, near the Camden side of the bridge.  Once that was done, I picked up my pre-ordered wedding gift and headed to the Alexander Inn, my residence for the next 2 days.

With time to spend, until the Rehearsal Dinner, at 6 p.m., I ventured to check out Philly’s street art.

Here are  a few of those scenes, from the west side of the Independence Historic District.

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Here, a father is showing his little girl the power that comes with community working together.  I found this appropriate to the present situation.  My brother has been a guiding light to all three of his children.

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The above long mural has a caption that speaks of the eternal juxtaposition of right and wrong.  The young man in the foreground is giving this matter a lot of thought. From the look in his eyes, I would say he will choose right, more often.

Well, the dinner was second to none.  The Panorama Restaurant, right on Front Street, did it up fabulous.  I am admittedly an hors d’oeuvres hound, anyway, and the grilled ahi tuna did not fail to satisfy, either.

Tomorrow, greeting Aram and meeting his sweetheart, then attending the wedding of the year (sorry, Harry and Meghan), will be a most assuredly full day.  Good night, all.

 

The 2018 Road, Day 19: A Steamtown Experience, Part 1- The Hill District

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June 13, 2018, Scranton-

At least once, during a cross-country sojourn, I like to spend at least a few hours in a city which has contributed to the economic and material well-being of our nation.  In the past, this has led me to Oakland, St. Louis, Des Moines, Kokomo, South Bend and Canton, Ohio, to say nothing of Chicago, Boston, New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles.

Today, this meant several hours in Scranton, northeast Pennsylvania’s commercial and industrial hub, and the center of the steam locomotive industry in the U.S., particularly during the 19th Century.  Prior to locomotives, Scranton and nearby Wilkes-Barre were important centers for coal mining.  Anthracite, or hard coal, was abundant in northeast Pennsylvania, and provided the fuel by which steam could be produced, thus being the impetus for the steam locomotive industry-major to the transcontinental railroads, which have moved a major part of passenger and freight traffic, to this day.

I began my visit with a walk around the Hill neighbourhood, on the west end of downtown.  David Spencer bestowed the moniker, Electric City, upon Scranton, in 1886. Many of the large buildings of this side of downtown were among the first in the nation to rely exclusively on incandescent lighting.

Here are some of those fine structures.  The churches reflect the ethnic diversity of those who came to dig coal and to help build the railroads.

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Above is St. Nicholas’ Eastern Orthodox Church, which began serving Russian and Serbian miners, in the latter Nineteenth Century.

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Covenant Presbyterian Church was established by Scottish and Scots-Irish immigrants.

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Spacious St. Matthew’s United Evangelical Lutheran Church reflects the central European architectural style of its German adherents.

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This unmarked building, west of St. Nicholas’ Church, is nonetheless impressive.

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Prominent, and well-marked, is St. Peter’s Cathedral, with Scranton City Hall in the background.

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This fascinating private home is certainly well-insulated.

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This is the Administration Building of Scranton School District.  There is a history of inventive minds coming out of the Lackawanna Valley.  This district’s mission is that this will long continue.

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Adjacent to the District Office is Lackawanna County Public Library’s Main Branch, and, to the Library’s right, Scranton City Hall.

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Here is a closer view of St. Peter’s Cathedral.  Downtown is bordered, at the east end, by the yards of the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad.  The regional commuter trains’ main terminus is here:

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I hopped the tracks and continued slightly northeast, to the locomotives’ well-deserved resting place.

 

NEXT: Steamtown National Historic Site