This particular Saturday, I decided to drive a loop that would take me through three states—so easily done in the northeast. The plan was to drive northwest from P’burgh and cross the narrow strip of West Virginia that squeezed itself up between Pennsylvania and Ohio. If you look at the southwest corner of Pennsylvania, it’s a precisely drawn capital L. You would think that the bottom line would simple be extended what can’t be more than 50 miles straight over to Ohio, but neither logic nor common sense were consulted in the design of West Virginia. Anyhow, I was going to cross this strip, continue into Ohio, make a sharp left and follow the Ohio River down the edge of the state to Martin’s Ferry, then cross there to Wheeling, WV and head northeast to complete the loop.

That was the plan. But when it was time to turn off the northwest diagonal in PA and head straight west to WV, I made a wrong turn. And let me now raise a glass to those serendipitous wrong turns. Attempting to “Proceed to the Route”, I spotted an antique store along the main street of what was at one time (I imagine) a thriving small town. As always and without hesitation, I parked and went in. It was delightfully huge and crammed full, but the day had more momentous discoveries ahead so we had better move on. When I finally left Rivertown Antiques, I decided to explore the town, locating and browsing two more antique stores in the process. I eventually learned that I was in Ambridge, a company town incorporated by the American Bridge company in 1905 that sits on the Ohio river, and it would have been nothing more than every other old company town left to struggle into the future with inexpensive old houses and few jobs except for one historically fascinating thing. Ambridge encompasses the historic town of Economy which was founded in 1824 by the Harmony Society, a religious commune in Germany that fled to the US to escape the Lutherans. I’m not aware of any horrible persecution but the Society couldn’t have met with much Hail Fellow Well Met back then. Ironically, their church is now Lutheran. 

The Society was sufficiently firm in the belief that God would come down in 1829 to escort them all to heaven that they decided there was no point in having more children thus ensuring the eventual end of their group. In the meantime, however, they worked like…uh, Germans, I suppose, and built an impressive, multi-faceted economy. Pennsylvaniaresearch.com says that, “Within two years there were, in addition to 50 log homes, a barn, hotel, tannery, distillery, warehouse, and mills.” Check out my photos, one of which includes what must have been one of those original log homes. The highlight of my day was taking a tour of the grand home of the Society’s founder, George Rapp, and learning how to write with a quill pen dipped into the ink that would have been used back then (1 cup berries + 1 tsp vinegar + 1 tsp salt). By the way, those quills were trimmed with a small knife that eventually became known as a penknife.

 

The compound that was the heart and soul of the Harmony Society.
The schoolroom in which I learned to write with a quill.
A typical brick home of the times, the walls are 3 bricks thick
The balcony was used for musicians to whip up a religious fervor on Sundays.