A Backward Glance at Thirty-Five Years Young

Features appear in each issue of Pennsylvania Heritage showcasing a variety of subjects from various periods and geographic locations in Pennsylvania.

Over the past thirty-five years, Pennsylvania Heritage has brought to readers hundreds of stories about the famous and the not-so-famous, of historic preservation struggles won and lost, and interviews with individuals who either shaped history or interpret it. Our thirty-fifth anniversary, which we’re observing with this edition, gives us a moment to pause and reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we’re going — both historically and editorially. Because history is a continuum — it can never be frozen in time — there’s always the possibility of a scrap of documentary evidence surfacing somewhere that will prove or refute long-held beliefs.

To celebrate our milestone, we’ve revisited articles that proved popular with our audience over the years. Whether a veteran or a new reader, we hope you enjoy this look back — complete with updates — on landmarks that define both generations and communities: covered bridges, carousels, drive-in movie theaters, breweries, and even an enormous glass mosaic mural.


Covered Bridges Span History

Covered bridges have always been popular with both Pennsylvania residents and visitors. They recall a time less harried, a distant day that seems more conducive to enjoying the journey, rather than focusing exclusively on the destination. During the height of the covered bridge age, roughly a fifty-year period between 1830 and 1880, the Keystone State claimed at least fifteen hundred covered spans, probably the most in the country. For the Summer 1985 edition, Susan M. Zacher, historic preservation specialist, Bureau for Historic Preservation, Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission (PHMC), wrote “In Celebration of Covered Bridges.” She also authored The Covered Bridges of Pennsylvania: A Guide, first published by PHMC in 1982 and reissued in 1994.

In her article for Pennsylvania Heritage, Zacher contended “the covered bridge, despite the romanticism ascribed to it, was a transportation marvel of the early nineteenth century in the United States.” She noted that Pennsylvania played an extremely important role in their development. She also debunked a bit of lore and legend that clouds the history of covered bridges. For years, people believed these spans were enclosed to prevent horses hauling wagons and carriages from being spooked by crossing rivers and streams. In reality, the horses were probably more frightened by these dark, narrow tunnels that reverberated with echoes than the rushing water they had previously crossed at fords. Zacher explained that the covered bridge was rooted entirely in practicality.

“Wooden bridges, whether supported by immense logs or hand-hewn supports, were subject to penetrating dampness which eventually rotted the boards and timbers. Since wood was the most abundant, easily accessible and workable raw material available, eighteenth and nineteenth century builders and carpenters continued using the felled oaks, hickories, walnuts and fruitwoods. But it was a master carpenter from Newburyport, Massachusetts, who actually solved the nagging problem of rotting wooden bridges.

“Timothy Palmer in 1801 constructed the first covered bridge in the United States over the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia. Soon bridge engineers throughout the country, including renowned builders and inventors Theodore Burr, Ithel Town, and William Howe, carried wood’s usefulness and efficiency to new, unprecedented heights. Although the most picturesque quality of the covered bridge is its rustic siding, the most important component was its interior trussing system.”

Zacher described the trussing of a bridge as an intricate network of construction and bracing which not only supports the structure itself, but helps carry the loads crossing the bridge. Builders developed and adapted a number of techniques in perfecting these complicated trussing systems, including the Kingpost, basically a triangle with reinforcing timbers, and the Queenpost, a truncated triangle supported by posts at each end which enabled the construction of longer spans. In 1804, Theodore Burr (1771– 1822) patented the Burr arch truss, which combined reinforced arches with multiple Kingpost trusses. The arches, tied directly into the bridge abutments, permitted the crossing of wide streams and rivers. Pennsylvania retains examples of patented trusses by early American builders, including the Town truss, known also as the lattice truss, designed by Ithel Town (1784–1844) of New Haven, Connecticut, in 1820.

“Other early spans, which Pennsylvania still claim as engineering triumphs and popular visitors’ attractions,” Zacher wrote, “include the Howe truss, patented by Massachusetts’s William Howe in 1840; the Warren truss, designed by two Englishmen, James Warren and T.W. Moranzi in 1838; and the Smith truss, conceived and patented by Robert J. Smith of Ohio.”

Even the names of covered bridges are steeply rooted in history, Zacher contended in her 1985 cover story. “The original names of covered bridges witness local and regional folklore, politics, first settlers and geography. They were often christened for an area dignitary, the farmer on whose land the bridge stood, a nearby grist mill or a descriptive element of the bridge itself.”

In spite of the great care and attention that local residents give their beloved covered spans, they’re not immune from the ravages of nature — and, in some cases, vandalism. Floodwaters of Tropical Storm Agnes in 1972 decimated Pennsylvania, causing damage to a number of covered bridges. Flooding caused by what some Pennsylvanians are calling the “No Name Storm of June 2006” damaged covered bridges and leveled others, including the West Paden Bridge in Columbia County, which was washed away. However, with the county’s efforts and Federal Emergency Management Agency funding, this bridge is being reconstructed. Other bridges have been lost to flooding since 1985.

“Unfortunately, covered bridges pose an invitation to arsonists,” Zacher says, noting that since 1985, Pennsylvania has lost thirteen covered bridges to arson. Arsonists have destroyed covered bridges in several areas, including Mood’s Bridge, in Bucks County, in 2004, and Henninger Farm (or Straup) Bridge in Dauphin County, in 2000. She says “these fragile resources are also damaged when huge vehicles take out the wood braces or hit the trusses. We are working closely with the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation to develop ways to preserve our historic bridges by installing safety features to prevent damage from oversized vehicles.” In most cases, whether destruction was caused by nature, deliberate intent, or accident, local residents rallied and saw their beloved covered bridges rebuilt.

A native of western Pennsylvania, Zacher has lived in Harrisburg and worked for PHMC for nearly thirty-two years. She has served as coordinator of the National Register of Historic Places in Pennsylvania and for twenty-five years has reviewed federal and state projects to assess their impact on the Commonwealth’s historic resources and find alternatives to those that jeopardize these treasures.


The Magic of Merry-Go-Rounds

Just as covered bridges have been romanticized by generations of Pennsylvanians, so too have carousels, or merry-go-rounds. Once an important part of popular culture, as well as the built landscape, these carved extravaganzas possess a rich history.

The late Linda Kowall Woal, a regular contributor popular with readers in the late 1980s and early 1990s, wrote “The Merry-Go-Round Kings” for the Spring 1988 edition. She discussed Pennsylvania carousel makers, their fanciful creations, and the era when the Keystone State was home to gifted artisans and manufacturers.

“Today, carousels and their carved figures are highly regarded as examples of American folk art at its best,” Woal wrote, “and cherished as nostalgic icons of a bygone era when amusements somehow seemed more lavish, fanciful and innocent. During the heyday of the American carousel — from the mid-1880s to the mid-1920s — the major manufacturers numbered fewer than a dozen, with their creations falling into what collectors and historians identify as three general styles.”

These included the Country Fair Style, designed to travel a circuit of fairgrounds, distinguished by sturdily built horses and menageries with simpler decoration and less detailed carving; the Coney Island Style, easily recognizable by the showy, more stylized animals in dramatic poses and replete with opulent garlands and trappings encrusted with jewels; and the Philadelphia Style, noted for its elegance and by which the other styles were measured. The Philadelphia Style carousels were manufactured by the Dentzel Carousel Company and the Philadelphia Toboggan Company, located in the city’s Germantown section. German immigrants Daniel and Alfred Muller and their father, John Henry Muller, worked for Gustav Dentzel, even after the senior Muller died. The brothers left the firm, however, to join the Philadelphia Toboggan company when it opened its doors. In 1906, they established the D.C. Muller & Brother Company which flourished until wartime shortages forced them to shutter their factory in 1917.

Woal contended that rising manufacturing costs and the Great Depression “broke the carousel industry.” The Dentzel Carousel Company closed in 1928, followed by the Philadelphia Toboggan Company in 1932.

Over the years, Woal wrote, “the elements have not been kind to these beautiful creations of wood and imagination,” noting that a hurricane in 1938 destroyed a dozen carousels along the East Coast. A hurricane destroyed an early Dentzel carousel in Sea Isle City in 1962. A fire at Allentown’s Dorney Park in 1983 reduced to ashes one of the most beautiful and elaborate of all the Philadelphia Toboggan Company’s carousels.

“Carousels are, indeed, an endangered species,” Woal warned. “Many of those not already victims to fire and storm are being broken apart and sold, piece by piece, to collectors.” On an optimistic note, she cited, “as the toll mounts, preservation efforts are increasing and a number of carousels have been entered in the National Register of Historic Places, including a rare 1906 Philadelphia Toboggan Company menagerie carousel which is the pride of Burlington, Colorado.”

Since Woal’s cover story appeared, interest in carousels has mushroomed, thanks to Baby Boomers who recall with sweet sentimentality the carefree days of their youth, when catching the brass ring was among their greatest pleasures. Although more than a few original carousels in Pennsylvania have been relegated to storage, several still offer flights of fancy for both young and old pleasure-seekers. A circa 1900 Dentzel classic wooden carousel — with three giraffes, three deer, three goats, and one zebra, in addition to horses and chariots — still turns at Weona Park in Pen Argyl, Northampton County. Hershey-parks prizes its carousel manufactured in 1919 by the Philadelphia Toboggan Company, which it acquired in 1944. Kennywood Park in West Mifflin, Allegheny County, operates a 1926 classic Dentzel carousel, originally built for the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial that year, but not completed in time for the celebration. The Please Touch Museum recently unveiled a 1924 Dentzel carousel in its new home at Memorial Hall in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. On loan from PHMC, the carousel was once the jewel of Woodside Park, located ten blocks from the carousel’s new quarters. In storage for nearly a half-century, the carousel was restored and running for the museum’s grand opening in October, much to the delight of young — and young-at-heart — visitors.

Linda Kowall Woal, a native Philadelphian well known for her publications, presentations, and exhibitions on popular culture, especially film and filmmakers, died on March 29, 2007. She regaled Pennsylvania Heritage readers with articles about filmmaker Siegmund “Pop” Lubin, “the Rockefeller of the Movies” (Winter 1986); KWY-TV, Pennsylvania’s first television station, founded in 1932 as W3XE (Spring 1987); and retailer John Wanamaker and his well-known Philadelphia department store (Winter 1989).


Drive-In Theaters, or, Fields of Dreams

To many, the drive-in movie theater was the 1950s — fields of Pennsylvania’s countryside lined at dusk with rows of automobiles with big tailfins, chrome bumpers, wooden paneling, and impressive, shark-like grills. On hazy summer evenings, just before twilight, dreamy-eyed teenagers and young families, often arriving in the ubiquitous station wagon, thronged acres where, in the comfort of their automobiles, they watched Invisible Ghost (1941) starring Bela Lugosi, The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) featuring Patricia Neal, and The Ladies Man (1961) with Jerry Lewis.

The drive-in movie theater marked its seventy-fifth anniversary in 2008. On May 16, 1933, the U.S. Patent Office issued utility patent number 1,909,537 to Richard M. Hollingshead Jr. of Camden, New Jersey, for the “Drive-In Theater.” He wasted no time and opened the nation’s first drive-in, in which he invested thirty thousand dollars, just three weeks later, on Tuesday, June 6. Hollingshead was able to marry his two passions with the advent of the drive-in: automobiles and motion pictures.

In “Moonbeams and B-Movies: The Rise and Fall of the Drive-in Theater,” which appeared in the Summer 1994 edition, coauthors Brian A. Butko and Rebecca Shiffer examined the history of the twentieth-century marvel in Pennsylvania and stripped away many of the myths shrouding its origins. The theater industry greeted the new venue with skepticism and the press predicted it wouldn’t last. As Butko and Shiffer pointed out, “By 1941, audiences were patronizing nearly one hundred drive-in theaters — nicknamed ‘ozoner’s’ — in twenty-seven states. Enthusiasm for these outdoor cinemas skyrocketed far beyond the early entrepreneurs’ hopes; by 1960, more than five thousand drive-ins accounted for a formidable share of the theater industry. The strength of their numbers commanded first-run movies previously reserved for the indoor theaters, known in the trade as ‘hardtops.’”

Butko and Shiffer noted that Pennsylvania’s first drive-in theater is also the country’s oldest continuously operating drive-in. Wilson Shankweiler, an avid movie buff, opened Shankweiler’s Auto Park on four acres adjacent to his hotel at Orefield, near Allentown, Lehigh County, on April 15, 1934. He had discovered Hollingshead’s Camden Drive-in Theater during a vacation trip to Atlantic City the previous year. Today, Shankweiler’s Drive-In accommodates three hundred cars nightly during the summer months.

As meteoric as the drive-in theater’s popularity was, so too was its decline. The authors cite several issues why they disappeared from the landscape, among them the rising value of real estate offered drive-in owners an incentive to sell their properties to developers of industrial and technology parks, shopping malls and plazas, and housing tracts. Motion picture companies also demanded longer runs than drive-in operators could guarantee, leaving them with second — and third — run features reminiscent of the early days, a period dominated by the B movie.

Coupled with rising property values and low-end motion pictures, the rise of the indoor multiplex theater, offering viewers a wider choice of films, began luring audiences away from the drive-in. The introduction of the video cassette recorder (VCR) in the early 1970s enabled viewers to enjoy movies in the comfort of their homes, contributing to even more rapid decline. The drive-ins, too, had their own problems, Butko and Shiffer acknowledged, including “bad weather and high maintenance, such as surfacing and draining the lot, grass cutting, winterizing, maintaining the sound system, and vandalism. And add to this litany a constant barrage of automobile problems, such as dead batteries, empty gas tanks, flat tires, and bothersome horns and headlights.”

At the time Pennsylvania Heritage published “Moonbeams and B-Movies: the Rise and Fall of the Drive-In Theater,” Pennsylvania claimed four dozen extant operations, but that number has since dwindled. Butko believes there is hope for the survivors.

“It’s been difficult seeing more drive-ins close over the past decade,” he says, “but at least the pace has slowed. Most of the surviving drive-ins are beyond the urban fringe, so there’s less pressure to develop the land. They seem to be thriving too, adding screens and even secondary snack bars.”

As for drive-in movie theaters today, Butko believes they “have shed their unenviable ‘passion pit’ reputation of the 1970s and 1980s. Interest in drive-ins seems to increase every year, whether it’s parents reliving their childhoods or the kids they take to discover the fun of movies under the stars. I know my family and friends adore every visit we make.”

Editor of Western Pennsylvania History, the Senator John Heinz History Center’s award-winning quarterly magazine, Butko is an expert on twentieth-century roadside architecture. His books include Greetings from the Lincoln Highway: America’s First Coast-to-Coast Road; The Lincoln Highway: Pennsylvania Traveler’s Guide; and Klondikes, Chipped Ham, & Skyscraper Cones: The Story of Isaly’s.


History Brews and Blooms

Microbreweries — with their distinctively-named lagers, ales, and porters — have been popular since the mid-1990s. These modern craft breweries produce a limited amount of beer for what the industry calls an informed and loyal following. Many named signature brands after popular attractions or events in history. Erie Brewing Company produces Drake’s Crude, a seasonal stout named in honor of Edwin L. Drake, who sank the world’s first successful oil well on August 28, 1859. Harrisburg’s Appalachian Brewing Company turns out Water Gap Wheat and Susquehanna Stout, both named for the region’s prominent topographical features. The Lancaster Brewing Company makes — what else? — Amish Four Grain, a multi-grain pale ale. The Sprague Farm and Brew Works in Venango, Crawford County, unabashedly makes a statement on the Commonwealth’s diminished industrial prowess with its Rust Belt Amber Ale.

The Schuylkill County seat of Pottsville, in the southern anthracite region, claims D. G. Yuengling and Son, the oldest continuously operated family-owned brewery in the United States. Founded in 1829 by David G. Yuengling (1808–1877), a twenty-one-year-old German brewer, the operation is run by the family’s fifth generation. But Pennsylvania’s brewing tradition dates to the Commonwealth’s earliest days.

Founder William Penn (1644–1718) made sure Pennsbury Manor, his beloved country estate overlooking the Delaware River at Morrisville, Bucks County, was equipped with facilities for making beer. Concerned with both affairs of state and household matters, he wrote from London in 1684 to James Harrison (circa 1828–1687), steward of the eight-thousand-acre-estate, instructing him to erect “a brewhouse & in it an oven for baking.”

Within forty years after its construction (and eighteen years after his death), Penn’s beloved manor house, which he occupied only periodically between 1699 and 1701, was in decay. The proprietor’s son, Thomas Penn, who visited Pennsbury Manor in 1736, found the house “was very near falling, the Roof open as well as the windows and the woodwork almost rotten.” The seriously dilapidated house was eventually torn down later in the eighteenth century. However, the Bake and Brew House, the manor’s last original building, survived until 1864, when it was destroyed.

In 1991 at Pennsbury Manor, one of PHMC’s attractions along the Pennsylvania Trails of HistoryTM, Richard Wagner, a brewery historian, conducted the first brewing of beer in more than three centuries, using only colonial era equipment and processes. Today, brewing is part of the historic site’s programming.

In his article entitled “A Tradition Brewing,” the cover story of the Fall 1985 edition, William D. Cissna chronicled the history of beer-making in Pennsylvania, beginning in the late seventeenth century. Pennsylvania has been home to at least 865 brewers, even though many were small and highly dependent on the loyalty of their local consumers. Over the years many disappeared, victims to large competitors or Prohibition.

For the Summer 1991 edition of Pennsylvania Heritage, Rich Wagner and Rich Dochter, founders of Pennsylvania Brewery Historians, wrote “Brewerytown, U.S.A.,” in which they chronicled the rise and fall of a once mighty industrial section of Philadelphia that boasted a dozen brewing firms in a seven square block area, including Arnholt and Schaefer, Bergner and Engel, and Weger Brothers. According to Wagner and Dochter, Philadelphia was “one mammoth brewerytown,” with hundreds of plants in its history. Brewerytown, however, “eventually came to define a section of the city larger than just the seven blocks of breweries. The related businesses provided raw materials, machines, harnesses and wagons, coopers, printers, bottlers, and a host of other products and services. For example, it was common to see the familiar Bergner and Engel label ‘bottled by’ any number of plants. Many nearby firms also specialized in all types of brewing accoutrements, such as refrigeration equipment, cedar vats, and steel tanks. Some companies even specialized in tax stamp paste.”

As Philadelphia hosted the nation’s celebration of its one hundredth anniversary in 1876 with the Centennial Exhibition at Fairmount Park, Pennsylvania counted 361 breweries, which declined to 220 within twenty years, in 1895. In 1919, the year before the Keystone State’s taps went dry because of Prohibition, there were 209 operations, but by 1935, two years after the Volstead Act was repealed, the number had plummeted by nearly half, to 107. The downward spiral continued through the twentieth century, with fifty-three breweries in operation by 1950, twenty-four by 1965, and eighteen by 1973. Only a handful remain.

“My interest in Pennsylvania’s brewing history,” says Rich Wagner, “began when I started seeing so many industrial skeletons across the landscape. In 1980, there were nine traditional breweries still in business in the Commonwealth. That number dropped to seven with the closing of Schmidt’s of Philadelphia in 1987, but that was also the same year when Stoudt’s Brewing Company in Adamstown, Lancaster County, became the state’s first craft brewery. Today, Pennsylvania is home to more than forty breweries and brewpubs! While their total production is a fraction of what the state’s largest brewers once produced, it’s heartening to see an industry rooted in the very founding of the Commonwealth springing back to life.”

Wagner, who has been researching the history of the brewing industry in Pennsylvania since 1980, has documented a number of breweries and beers and interviewed individuals associated with them. He has conducted bus tours of old and new operations in Pennsylvania, for which he developed guidebooks. He earned a diploma in brewing technology from the Siebel Institute, Chicago, in 1994, and two years later retired from his teaching career and worked for seven years in craft breweries in Philadelphia. For the past four years he has been giving presentations on a wide array of topics, from colonial period brewing to today’s craft brewing industry.

“Traditionally, New York, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin have led the nation in both beer production and the number of breweries,” Wagner says. “Pennsylvania was often at the top of the list for the number of breweries. This is rooted in the fact that there were many Germans and Eastern Europeans who brought their culture and traditions with them as they came to America to work in mines, factories, and mills.” He notes that “previous generations of the Keystone State’s brewers coped with Prohibition, war rationing, high taxes, and competition from the country’s largest producers.

The second half of the twentieth century saw the formation of ever-larger brewing companies whose size afforded them many advantages over small producers. Today’s craft brewers face their own challenges, the most recent of which is an enormous increase in the cost of raw materials. The good news is that they are meeting those challenges, and judging from the number of medals they’ve won at the Great American Beer Festival, Pennsylvania beers are recognized far and wide for quality.”


Winning One for Fine Art

Everyone enjoys success stories, and Pennsylvania Heritage first commented, in 2001, on the unfolding drama surrounding The Dream Garden, a monumental masterpiece created by Maxfield Parrish (1870–1966) and executed by Louis Comfort Tiffany and his Tiffany Studios for Marble Hall, the grand lobby of the Curtis Publishing Company Building at Sixth and Walnut Streets in Philadelphia. At that time, the fate of the huge glass mosaic was uncertain.

Edward W. Bok (1863–1930), senior editor of the Curtis Publishing Company and son-in-law of its founder, Cyrus H.K. Curtis (1850–1933), commissioned the mural, believing ordinary people had a right to appreciate art “in their workplace and their everyday lives rather than in museums.”

The mosaic mural — measuring forty-nine feet wide and fifteen feet high — is made up of more than one hundred thousand pieces of glass, each hand-fired to create two hundred and sixty glimmering hues that give it an ethereal character.

Before being installed in the company’s headquarters, designed in 1910 by architect Edgar V. Seeler, The Dream Garden was exhibited for one month by Tiffany Studios in Corona, New York. It attracted seven thousand visitors and garnered critical acclaim. Its permanent installation in 1916 took six months.

In 1968, John W. Merriam, real estate developer and philanthropist, purchased the building, which he rehabilitated and renamed the Curtis Center. When he sold the building in 1984, he retained ownership of The Dream Garden. His death, ten years later, in 1994, set an acrimonious saga in motion.

The Philadelphia Inquirer broke the story in June 1998 about the sale of The Dream Garden in April. According to reporters, an unnamed individual purchased the mural for nine million dollars and made an escrow deposit of nine hundred thousand dollars. The purchaser’s identity eventually came to light: he was Steve Wynn, a casino resort developer, who intended to install it in one of his Las Vegas casinos. Reporters learned that Wynn bought it from the estate of John W. Merriam, who had bequeathed it to four not-for-profit institutions: the University of Pennsylvania (his alma mater), Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, University of the Arts, and Bryn Mawr College. Representatives of the institutions began wrangling over the issue of maintenance, since it was to be an institution-owned work of art but remain in a public location. Two New York art dealers, representing Wynn, had persuaded the heirs to sell The Dream Garden, after which Merriam’s estate applied for — and received — an “application for demolition” which representatives publicly posted near the mural.

News of the impending removal of the five-ton mural from Philadelphia provoked a furor among area residents, and drew the ire of art enthusiasts, museum curators, historic preservationists, and art and architectural historians from throughout the country. Prompted by the fierce public outcry, the Philadelphia Historical Commission conducted a hearing to determine the significance of The Dream Garden. The commission ultimately recognized it as a historic object in November 1998, arguing that, “owing to its unique location or singular characteristics, Dream Garden represents an established and familiar feature of the neighborhood, community and City.” The designation — reputedly the first of its kind in the United States — essentially prohibited the removal, alteration, or destruction of the mosaic without the commission’s consent.

Lawyers for the estate and the dealers who had represented Wynn countered with a request for the removal of the mural, arguing that their still unnamed buyer had opted out of the sale because it could not be moved. More hearings were scheduled for February and March 2001. Adding to the complexity was the fact that Merriam’s widow and executrix, Elizabeth C.L. Merriam, heir to 41 percent of the estate’s $119 million in assets, died on March 19, 2001. Merriam’s second wife and longtime secretary had filed a countersuit, which the Commonwealth Court of Pennsylvania heard on March 7.

After rounds of intense legal negotiations, public discussion, and heated allegations, the Pew Charitable Trusts stepped in and provided $3.5 million so that the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts could acquire the show-stopping glass mural. It was fitting that the Academy became its custodian. Philadelphia native and beloved illustrator Maxfield Parrish had been associated with the Pennsylvania Academy for more than three decades. Pennsylvania Heritage recently revisited The Dream Garden when it published Academy Archivist Cheryl Leibold’s article entitled “Two Hundred Years and Counting: The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts” in the Spring 2005 edition to mark the institution’s bicentennial.

Leibold, coauthor of Writing About Eakins: The Masterpieces in Charles Bregler’s Thomas Eakins Collection (1989) and the award-winning Eakins and the Photograph: Works by Thomas Eakins and His Circle in the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (1994), has written articles relating to the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts for a number of publications. “The Pennsylvania Academy is thrilled,” she says, “to have become the custodian of this important masterpiece of American art. In 2005, the Academy published an essay on the history of the mosaic in its book celebrating the institution’s two hundredth anniversary, Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, 1805–2005: 200 Years of Excellence. Tours and docent talks of the mosaic are available by appointment, and a major relighting and refurbishment of the Curtis Center’s lobby is planned.”


Michael J. O’Malley III has served as editor of Pennsylvania Heritage since 1984.