Historic US 322, Centre County, PA
Timothy Reichard
original US 322 in Centre County.
http://www.centredaily.com/mld/centredaily/living/4275849.htm
Posted on Sun, Oct. 13, 2002 story
Sights of U.S. Route 322 should not be overlooked
By Chris Rosenblum
cros...@centredailiy.com
Hop in. We're going for a ride.
Today, we'll be toodling along U.S. Route 322, that concrete ribbon
stretching about 42 miles through the heart of Centre County.
Now's not the time for a nap. There'll be plenty to see. Our road, also
known as the 28th Division Highway, skirts meadows with white fences and
climbs mountains. It runs along farms and the housing developments
replacing them. Historic buildings echo the past; raw construction sites
point to the future.
A lot will stream by the windows but we can stop occasionally for a
stretch and a story or two. So, make yourself comfortable, buckle up and
let's go.
Miles 1 to 3.2
At the Mifflin County line, heading west, the road crosses the Mid State
Trail, part of a central Pennsylvania trail system covering about 260
miles. A rest area accessible only to westbound motorists provides
access to the trail.
After a few curves through a narrow gap, we emerge from the mountains to
Potters Mills. In this small community, at the junction of state Route
144, Kathy Confer keeps history alive.
Confer owns the Eutaw House, a tavern and restaurant that first started
serving travelers in 1823 as they arrived in stagecoaches along the old
turnpike between Bellefonte and Lewistown. Town founder James Potter's
family built the inn and, as the story goes, named it after a local
American Indian tribe.
Two years ago, the building had fallen into disrepair. Confer, who grew
up in Potters Mills, bought it and began extensive renovations.
"I always loved it," she said. "I always admired the building."
She stays busy these days overseeing a staff of 20 and planning further
improvements to the three-story brick Federal house. Antiques, mostly
from the basement, decorate two floors of rustic dining rooms.
Confer also salvaged a rough rendering of the old Eutaw House, sketched
by a 19th-century guest in lieu of payment, and a section of the
original bar with burn marks made by patrons setting whiskey on fire to
test its proof.
Upstairs is a scarred table upon which Edgar Allan Poe supposedly wrote
part of "The Raven" while visiting to settle a family estate. Confer
can't vouch for that but she can say for certain the house represents a
great deal of hard work and pride to her.
"I've learned a whole world of things in the last two years, I can tell
you," she said.
Near the entrance, a whimsical pole gives the mileage to various distant
locations, such as Sedona, Ariz., and the North and South poles (3,330
and 8,891 miles respectively).
But it's only a few yards across the street to Homan's General Store, in
business since Potter built it in 1791.
The gas pumps are modern, but owners Brenda and Bruce Homan retained a
vintage appearance when they bought the place eight years ago. Red and
green paint frame the high front windows below the front porch, and
wooden slats line the floor. Hanging on one wall are photos of rural
scenes taken by the couple.
Local residents and the previous owner have told them details about the
building's past.
"In the 1930s, on Saturdays, they would have dances here," Brenda Homan
said.
About the store's future, she waltzes a little herself. All will depend
on the eventual plan for a controversial proposed limited-access
expressway in the area. Perhaps the store could be off an exit, but in
any case, that's a long way off.
"So, who knows?" she said. "Maybe we'll add a restaurant."
Mile 5.5
Get a hot dog from the Homans. Get a live mutt from the animal shelter
down the road.
Built in 1960, it's the second smallest of the six rural branches run by
the Pennsylvania Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Last
year, the angular building beside spreading maple trees took in about
2,600 creatures.
Around noon on a recent weekday, a tawny Lab-like dog stretched for a
belly-rubbing in the lobby as whines, howls, yips, barks and meows
filled the air. Through the shelter door 122 animals waited for homes.
Besides cats and dogs, the shelter holds rabbits, hamsters, gerbils and,
thanks to a new paddock area, horses. Sometimes more exotic guests arrive.
"Month and a half ago, there was a python," said employee Troy Kress.
Mile 5.9
If there's nobody at the Fohringer family produce stand near Tusseyville
to pay for that perfect pumpkin or great gourd, don't worry. Just leave
the money in the bolted antique red steel box.
Dishonest customers are the rare exception.
"Of course, you're going to have occasional ones, but we've never had
any major problems," said Audra Ticknor, the third of four generations
working the stand.
Even those a bit short return later.
"They'll come back and say, 'I owe you this,' " Ticknor said.
The honor system, used especially during the busy planting and
harvesting seasons, has been in place since Ticknor's father, Carl
Fohringer, and grandfather started the business next to their home
almost two decades ago.
"The easiest way to explain the original one is that it looked like a
picnic table with a roof," Ticknor said.
Years back the family moved the stand 100 yards or so to its present
site, and now the small blue building is open from Memorial Day to
Halloween.
Mile 6.7
Many homes sit off the busy highway. None, though, is as close as the
Hoffman place in Potter Township.
The yellow 19th-century farmhouse's front door once stood mere feet from
rushing traffic. After moving from State College in 1999 with their
three children, Patti and Randy Hoffman didn't waste time installing an
8-foot high wooden fence.
That helped block out the stream of cars and trucks. Thick walls have
been a further blessing.
"When you're inside, you don't have a sense of the roar," said Patti
Hoffman.
Even with a fence, there's not much the Hoffmans could do about a
wayward vehicle. But as far as they know, the house has suffered just a
single collision.
"The only one was with a wagon long ago," Hoffman said.
Mile 9.9
Moving right along, on the left we pass the Shaner Baseball Complex,
several lighted fields for youth leagues in a meadow. They're empty now,
in hibernation until next spring.
Just ahead, like a castle on a hill, the #1 Cycle Center looms on the
right. With flags furling in the wind and more than 100 cycles on the
grounds, the Harley Davidson dealership beckons like a motor mecca.
The 16-year-old dealership, the only one of its kind in Centre County,
moved to this location three years ago.
Tait Farm, owned by the Tait family for 52 years, is open all seasons,
however.
Spring and summer mean fresh fruit, vegetables and flowers. Apples and
pumpkins come in the fall, followed by Christmas trees grown in neat
rows amid the farm's 130 acres.
In the Harvest Shop, visitors can peruse an eclectic mix of specialty
items from the farm and the area, as well as attend weekly cooking and
gardening classes. Barn cats lounge next to the parking lot, and basset
hounds for sale greet Community Harvest cooperative members walking to
the barn for their weekly vegetables.
Shopkeeper Bethan Fisher says employees and a "whole bunch of
volunteers" believe the farm offers a "strong sense of community."
"It has a lot of heart and soul," she said.
Miles 10.4 to 24.5
Hey, put that strawberry jam away. It's going to drip on the seat as we
dodge State College.
Both tradition and progress can be seen from the 8-mile Mount Nittany
Expressway bypass, built in the 1970s. Cars swing by Mount Nittany, the
county's best-known landmark, and the ongoing Interstate 99 construction
project, which will share a stretch with 322 before connecting with
Interstate 80.
Yellow bulldozers, flashing signs and orange lane markers continue to
dot the landscape. Huge swatches of forest have been cleared. Mountains
have shifted. At the Scotia Road interchange, crews cut a new path and
buried the old route. Skytop Mountain's crest has been sheared off like
a sand castle.
Miles 27.8 to 29.7
They pile up barbecued ribs instead of dirt at Clem's BBQ, a roadside
shack and area favorite down in the valley where 322 joins U.S. Route
220 for a spell. Look for the yellow sign, pig logo, stacked wood and
telltale rising cloud from the pit.
The Port Matilda Volunteer Fire Company, right in Port Matilda, knows
all about heat from serving five municipalities. Its most recent
purchase, a 1991 engine from New Jersey for $90,000, sits in town,
parked in a blue metal building with new sides and a roof.
The 25 active firefighters are torn between keeping the engine red or
painting it yellow like the rest of its fleet. Until the I-99 bypass
around town is complete, they also can't decide what to buy next.
"If we get motels, we might want to get (ladder trucks)," said president
Bryce Benner.
Mark Belinda, of State College, looks forward to the interstate. For
eight years he's owned Belinda's Port Matilda Hotel, a restaurant and
six-room hotel close to the corner where 322 veers toward Philipsburg.
"As far as I know, there has been a Port Matilda hotel back to the
1800s," he said, citing rumors of ancient produce slips found in the
ruins of the original structure.
At noon on a weekday, only a few patrons are shooting pool and sipping
beer while watching "The Price is Right." Belinda hopes area residents,
with not as much commuter traffic to bear, will drop in more for his
wings and other tavern items.
"People will be on this road because they want to, not because they have
to," he said.
Miles 37.9 to 42
After crawling through the bypass construction, then inching up the
mountain between state game lands already flecked with color, it's
tempting to speed.
We shouldn't -- and the low building on the left is the reason.
That's the Philipsburg state police barracks. For those who would like
to visit, its lobby has free state maps and driving pamphlets around the
clock. For those preferring to just wave, take the lead out of your
soles. Troopers routinely wait beside Rush Township's dips and curves,
looking for speeding, unsafe passing and tailgating.
"We watch the road pretty carefully," said Trooper Brian Pollick, a
community policing officer.
OK, so it takes a little longer to cruise past the sister studios of
WPHB 1260 and WUBZ 105.9, the first station a folksy local institution
for 45 years, the other broadcasting hip alternative rock.
Philipsburg isn't going anywhere.
Just before town, on the left, is the Cold Stream Dam Recreation Area,
with its morning anglers, playground and World War II Sherman tank.
We're stopping, however, at the Union Church.
The tan and white "Old Mud Church," as it's affectionately known, dates
from 1820 and is a prime example of American Gothic architecture,
according to the state historical marker.
The county landmark is open only on Sundays from Memorial to Labor days,
but visitors can tour the cemetery between Sixth and Seventh streets
anytime. Some of the worn headstones are almost as old as the church.
But that's not surprising for a town founded in 1797. Philipsburg, in
short, is a time trip. Oaks and maples shade Victorian homes along
Presqueisle Street, which 322 becomes before winding through town on
North Centre, Locust and Front streets.
The borough offices are located across from South Park with its black
naval cannons, displays from the town's yesteryears. The ivy-covered red
brick building itself started out in 1887 as the town hall and home of
the Hope Fire Company.
"We're sitting in the old kitchen," said borough secretary Theresa
Cartwright.
If it were night, we could turn left onto Front, the main commercial
drag, and sit before the largest movie screen in the county. The Rowland
Theatre, an Art Deco masterpiece from 1916 on the National Register of
Historic Places, features a 20-foot screen draped with heavy curtains, a
wide balcony and an honest-to-goodness orchestra pit.
But we've got to be going. Look to the right as we head out of town on
Front. That's a sign for Kephart Hardware, a fifth-generation business a
couple of blocks away.
Oops, need some gas after this long trip. Let's fill up at Richmond's
Service Station, started by Wink Richmond's father eight decades ago,
before we cross the rusting bridge over Moshannon Creek into Clearfield
County.
Time to turn around and head home.
Tim Reichard
http://www.m-plex.com/roads/