Lycoming County: Many Call It Romantic

Its heritage is so rich that it’s hard to adequately­ – and accurately – portray the roles Lycoming County has played in the Commonwealth’s history. Since its settlement in the mid­-eighteenth century, it has had, according to Sylvester K. Stevens, author of the 1946 guide to the Keystone State’s sixty-seven counties, My Penn­sylvania, “one of the most romantic and economic roles in the history of Pennsylva­nia.” And it’s true.

Lycoming County, for one thing, is the Commonwealth’s largest county. Named for the creek which flows through it, the county was created on April 13, 1795, from part of what was then Northumber­land County. Lycoming Coun­ty’s size at that time was immense, and during the following half-century a dozen counties were carved from its vast territory, the last of which, Sullivan, was orga­nized as late as 1847.

Even names of the county’s villages and communities are diverse in themselves. Some of them, including Jersey Shore and Picture Rocks, conjure visions of picturesque land­scapes, while others, such as Tivoli and Barbours, bespeak a distinctly European charm. Still others – Glen Mawr, for instance – seem to have been plucked from Philadelphia’s Main Line. And there are others that convey a tranquil­ity, even if in name only: Brookside and Unityville and Buttonwood. And that’s not to mention Whitepine, Oriole, Roaring Branch, Steam Valley and Linden.

Lycoming County’s valleys are lush with great swags of mountain laurel, its rivers crystal clear and its mountains towering with stands of hardy evergreens. For sportsmen it’s a vast and seemingly endless paradise; for historians, its heritage is deep and rich. While visitors are taken by its rugged beauty, historians remain intrigued with the ways in which Lycoming County’s development has affected not only regional and state affairs, but those of the nation as well. Lycoming County is, above all, a testi­mony to the pioneering indi­viduals of the eighteenth century, the entrepreneurs of the nineteenth century and the visionaries of this century, all of whom have had the fore­sight to utilize both its natural resources and capitalize on its stalwart settlers.

In his exuberant essay for William H. Egle’s 1883 History of the Commonwealth of Pennsyl­vania, E.S. Watson of William­sport, despite his penchant for overblown prose – so common to late nineteenth century historians – captured the es­sence of Lycoming County a century ago.

Probably in no county of the Commonwealth is the handiwork of nature more prominently dis­played than in Lycoming, made more impressive by the contrasts presented the tourist. Mountains rising to an altitude of 1,500 or 2,000 feet extend across the northern and central sections, ranges of the Allegheny and Laurel hill, while at the base is a sparse popu­lation owing to the narrow val­leys. But this wild, sterile region is offset by the beautiful valley of the West Branch, the subordinate limestone valleys to the south, and on the east the fertile and picturesque Muncy valley, with a dense and prosperous agricultural population. The West Branch valley is bounded on the south by a bold continuation of Bald Eagle mountain, while beyond, like a beautiful picture, lies Nippenose and White Deer Hole valleys, the White Deer mountain fanning the southern boundary of the county. Nippenose valley presents a curi­ous formation. If is an oval lime­stone basin about ten miles in length, surrounded by high hills, the streams from which, after descending a short distance to­wards the centre of the valley, lose themselves under the surface of the limestone rocks.

Travel through the region occurred as early as 1756, when the French realized the immense value of what ap­peared to be an inexhaustible supply of lumber and meadow upon meadow of fertile farm­land; actual settlement did not occur until 1768, following the signing of the treaty at Fort Stanwix. Nevertheless, as it happened in many remote areas throughout Pennsylvania during the eighteenth century, pioneers staked claims to tracts of land on the frontier. In what would later become Lycoming County, courageous frontiers­men braved the hardships of the great wilderness and set­tled along the region’s water­ways, especially Pine Creek. Self-styled and self-reliant, these independent settlers­ – known throughout history as the “Fair Play Men” – established their own tribunal of free men and a committee of vigilantes to ensure justice and, simply, “fair play” in the isolated settlements. These settlers lived on both sides of the Pine Creek – which sepa­rates Lycoming and Clinton counties – and conducted their meetings under a huge tree known as the Tiadaghton Elm. It was under this tree, so leg­end has it, that the Fair Play Men declared their indepen­dence from Great Britain on, coincidentally, July 4, 1776! (Parts of Lycoming and Centre counties were taken to create Clinton County in 1839.) Much of what is known about the Fair Play Men was originally recorded in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centu­ries, including a passage that appeared in Sherman Day’s Historical Collections of the State of Pennsylvania, published in Philadelphia in 1843 by George W. Gorton.

There existed a great number of locations of the 3d of April, 1769, for the choicest lands on the West branch of Susquehanna, between the mouths of Lycoming and Pine creeks; but the proprietaries from extreme caution, the result of that experience, which had also pro­duced the very penal laws of 1768 and 1769, and the proclamation already stated, had prohibited any surveys being made beyond the Lycoming. In the mean time, in violation of all law, a set of hardy adventurers had from time to time seated themselves on this doubtful territory. They made improve­ments, and formed a very consid­erable population. If is true, so far as regarded the rights to real property, they were not under the protection of the laws of the coun­try; and were we to adopt the visionary theories of some philoso­phers, who have drawn their arguments from a supposed slate of nature, we might be led to believe that the slate of these people would have been a state of continual warfare; and that in contests for property the weakest must give way to strongest. To prevent the consequences, real or supposed, of this state of things, they formed a mutual compact among themselves. They annually elected a tribunal, in rotation, of three of their settlers, whom they called fair-play-men, who were to decide all controversies, and settle disputed boundaries. From their decision, there was no appeal. There could be no resistance. The decree was enforced by the whole body, who started up in mass, at the mandate of the court, and execution and eviction were as sudden and irresistible as the judgement. Every new-comer was obliged to apply to this powerful tribunal, and upon his solemn engagement to submit in all respects to the law of the land, he was permitted to take possession of some vacant spot. Their decrees were, however, just; and when their settlements were recognised by law, and fair play had ceased, their decisions were received in evidence and confirmed by judge­ments of court.

According to Day, “the process of ejection, when any person refused to comply with the decrees under the code of fair-play, was to place the of­fender in a canoe, row him down to the mouth of the Lycoming cr., the boundary of civilization, and there set him adrift.”

The earliest settlers envi­sioned the great wilderness as a land of great promise, but the topography itself impacted significantly on the entire area’s growth, settlement pat­terns and industrial develop­ment. Lycoming County’s most prominent natural features – the steep mountains and the meandering waterways – inevitably played a part in local history. As pic­turesque as the mountains appear, they have limited the local economic development and activity. In fact, except for the lumber boom of the second half of the nineteenth century, the county’s poor soil in the mountainous regions, rugged terrain and lack of easily ob­tainable natural resources hampered industrial expan­sion. The Industrial Revolution of the last century never truly benefitted Lycoming County.

In addition to its moun­tains, the area’s waterways – ­the West Branch of the Susquehanna River and its major tributaries, including Bald Eagle, Muncy, Pine, Ly­coming and Loyalsock creeks – played a vital role in the county’s settlement. In many cases, they offered the best and, sometimes, only routes to and through the vast wilderness. Unlike the moun­tainous areas, the land near the waterways provide most of Lycoming County’s fertile soil and the flatland suitable for farming. With their subsidi­aries, the Susquehanna River and the creeks drain nearly six thousand square miles of north-central Pennsylvania! However, the river and its tributaries have adversely affected the area as well. The waterways, unfortunately, do not penetrate the entire high­land region, while the low­lands have experienced flooding more than twenty­-five times between 1886 and today. Most were not major floods but several – those in 1889, 1894, 1936 and 1946 – were especially tragic.

Lycoming County’s terrain, which, ironically, had actually hampered earlier growth, spurred economic vitality during the late nineteenth century. Settlers constructed dams along the waterways that inevitably were used to float timber – the county’s most abundant natural resource – to market. Spring freshets, too, helped move great log rafts to the sawmills and factories, where they were cut and planed for ready brokers and shops.

Long before the lumber boom, however, the state legis­lature appointed a five member commission to select a site for the county seat, for which four sites vied: Ross’ town, Jaysburg, Dunnstown and Newberry. It was not long before the choices were re­duced to two locations: Jay­sburg, at the juncture of the Susquehanna River and the Lycoming Creek, and Ross’ town. Many recognized that the tract owned by Michael Ross offered several important advantages, such as elevation, which afforded easy expan­sion. To enhance his consider­ation, the astute Ross offered the largest plot as his contribu­tion for the site of county gov­ernment buildings. Many also believed that much of Ross’s support came from William Hepburn, a former state sena­tor who owned a gristmill, a distillery and land adjoining the Ross parcel, and whose holdings would increase in value if the site was selected. Too, Hepburn had been named president of the court upon the county’s creation, and may have preferred to stay closer to home for official business.

As happened in several contests for county seats throughout the Common­wealth, the residents of Jay­sburg opposed the commission’s choice, contend­ing that the site was in danger of flooding. Local – and colorful – legends claim that a messenger was hurriedly dis­patched with an affidavit written by the opponents of Jaysburg to the commission­ers, but was waylaid by the proponents of Ross’s town and plied with liquor. The tale concludes with the messenger awaking some time later – only to find his saddlebag ripped open and the document no­where to be found. As a result, Ross’s town was named Ly­coming County seat.

Upon its selection as seat of county government, Ross’s town had only one structure, the Russell Inn, but Michael Ross vowed to assure the set­tlement’s success. On July 4, 1796, he staged an ox roast and land auction, and sold sixteen lots in the new village. The following year he christened the site Williamsport in honor of his young son, William. Because it took several years to construct the courthouse, court sessions were conducted in Jaysburg until 1800, the same year that federal and state census data confirmed that the settlement was slowly, but steadily, becoming a signif­icant center of economic activ­ity. And only four decades passed until Sherman Day recorded his impressions of a burgeoning little city in the wilds of north-central Pennsylvania.

Williamsport, the seat of justice, is very pleasantly situated on an elevated plain, on the left bank of the West branch of the Susque­hanna, between Lycoming and Pine creeks. The town is remark­ably well-built, and in many instances the architecture of the public and private buildings bears testimony to the intelligence and taste of the citizens. The public square, on which stands the courthouse, is shaded with trees, and enclosed with an iron railing; and the courthouse and several of the churches are surmounted with graceful spires and cupolas, which form conspicuous objects amid the rich scenery surrounding the borough. The hotels are spacious, and abound in luxuries and com­forts, without being encumbered with the enormous charges of those of our large cities. There are here Old and New School Presby­terian, Episcopal, Methodist, and German Reformed Churches, and an academy. There are also a large foundry and two extensive tan­neries, in which the operations are carried on by steam. The numer­ous stores are well stocked, and the place has altogether that appearance of thrift and bustle, which distinguishes it as the centre of a large internal trade. Population in 1840, 1,353. The U.S. court for the western district of Pennsylvania is held alternately here and at Pittsburg. The West Branch canal, which was opened for navigation in 1834, passes through the town. The Williamsport and Elmira railroad, con­structed by a company, has been finished as far as Ralston, 26 miles from this place. The whole length of the road is 74 miles, and when completed it will open an important route for travel and the transportation of coal, iron, and agricultural produce.

Little could Sherman Day in 1843 – nor the original 131 residents of Williamsport counted by the 1800 census – envision the lumber boom which would forever change the history and heritage of Lycoming County. However, the prosperity brought by the lumber boom would never have been possible, had it not been for the early canals and railroads which opened the isolated county to markets throughout Pennsylvania.

As early as 1791, the Society for Promoting the Improve­ment of Road and Inland Navi­gation submitted, through landowner Robert Morris, whose holdings included great tracts of property in the re­gion, a report to the state legis­lature recommending routes for canals and roads, complete with projected costs. It was not until after the county’s official organization in 1795 that for­mal petitions were presented to the local court to construct roads through the new county. In the spring of 1796, several men – James Crawford, Wil­liam Montgomery, Robert Hamilton, Andrew Carson, James McMicken and Samuel Harris – reported that they had laid a road from the Lycoming Creek to Queneshague, replac­ing an old Indian path that had been widened by early settlers. Williamsport founder Michael Ross, James Thomp­son and John Winter also pre­sented a report on a road “adjudged necessary for pub­lic use.” During the August session of the courts, several men reported that they had laid a road from Williamsport to a site designated only as “Stephen Cooke’s saw mill,” which probably stood on the banks of the Lycoming Creek. There were other early roads as well: one from Newberry to Thomas Brooks’s; one from Robert Crawford’s to Antes’s gristmill; one from Love’s gap to Shade’s mill; and one from the bank of the Loyalsock Creek to “the lower end of Andrew Carson’s meadow.”

The most significant road at the time, for many years known as the State Road, was a thoroughfare extending from Newberry to the state line near Painted Post, New York. Ap­proved April 8, 1799, the act of the state legislature authoriz­ing its construction approved a roadway, “when surveyed, laid out, and opened, and asforesaid, is hereby declared to be a public highway.” It was completed the following year by contractor Benjamin Wistar Morris, a member of the Pine Creek Company and eldest son of prominent Philadel­phian Samuel Morris; the Commonwealth had expended three thousand dollars for its construction, even though the original act specified that “the expense of laying out and surveying the road, and all charges incident thereto, shall be in the first instance paid by such of the citizens of the county of Lycoming, or other persons as may think proper to subscribe for the purpose of defraying the expense thereof.” For many years the State Road was considered a “cartway” through the densely forested mountains, but with constant use finally evolved into a great highway.

A second important road­way of the period, called the Genesee Road, extended from Muncy, passed near Hunters­ville and Lincoln Falls, and continued through to Towanda Creek, where it intersected with an old road. During the opening decade of the nine­teenth century, a number of roadways were laid out by both inhabitants and land speculators, which were slowed for a time by the War of 1812. Four years later, however, the General Assembly of Penn­sylvania issued a charter for the building of a road from Coudersport (now in present­-day Potter County) to Jersey Shore. Several Philadelphians took charge of the project, issuing fourteen hundred shares of stock at fifty dollars each, but the project faltered for several years. It was even­tually completed and known as the Coudersport Turnpike. Following the construction of roads and turnpikes was a flurry of related transportation improvements, particularly fords, ferries and bridges. As early as 1813, bridges spanned the Loyalsock and Lycoming creeks and three years later a bridge crossed the Pine Creek. Tn 1816, a ferry was authorized to ply the waters at William­sport. During the following decades, construction of these improvements burgeoned: the erection.of bridges at Jersey Shore and Muncy were ap­proved in 1835, and William­sport’s Maynard Street Suspension Bridge was fin­ished in August 1878. Many, however, were destroyed by the tragic flood of 1889.

While roads were laid and bridges built, residents of the isolated region needed trans­portation to reach distant markets. To enhance settle­ment and appease early pio­neers, the state legislature in 1783 declared the Susque­hanna River a “public high­way,” conferring the same status on the Pine Creek a half century later. Many of the earliest residents poled their families and meager belong­ings up the river in small boats, and grains and manu­factured goods were sent down the river in arks and the popular keelboats, which could easily carry up to thirty tons. Oars and poles were used to propel the keelboats, although horses often towed them. In addition to the arks and keelboats, canoes, rafts and flatboats made much use of the navigable waterways.

In 1826, Peter Karthaus, who owned a furnace in Clear­field County, launched an experiment with steamboat navigation to reduce the stag­gering losses of iron caused by the sinking of his arks. After visiting Williamsport and involving Tunison Coryell, two small steamboats, the Susque­hanna and the Codorus were built. The Susquehanna‘s boiler exploded as the steamboat fought the rapids, but the Codorus arrived – but not with­out difficulty – at Williamsport, igniting much enthusiasm and talk among merchants and investors about constructing wharves, warehouses and factories along the river’s edge. However, the problems in employing steam to power vessels on the Susquehanna River proved insurmountable and the idea was abandoned. With it vanished the dreams and visions of the William­sport businessmen who had hoped to capitalize on the venture. Nevertheless, the region’s waterways would continue to play a prominent part in the opening of north­-central Pennsylvania, particu­larly Lycoming County.

As incredible as it may seem, proponents of canals conducted a survey as early as 1790 to determine if the West Branch of the Susquehanna River could be connected with Lake Erie! In 1823, the Com­monwealth appropriated fifty thousand dollars to improve navigation on the river be­tween its mouth and Colum­bia. It was growing increasingly necessary for traders and manufacturers in the hinterlands to be able to move their goods more safely and quickly, so the legislature in 1828 authorized a board of canal commissioners to “locate and contract for making ca­nals, locks, and other neces­sary thereto” from Northumberland to Bald Eagle on the West Branch. Despite many delays, the canal reached Williamsport in 1833 and Lock Haven the following year. Not only were the canals employed to haul freight, produce and merchandise, but also packet boats, which car­ried passengers from port city to port city. For many years, the canals served as important links to the world far from the isolated communities. The empire of the canal came to an abrupt end with the tragic flood of 1889, even though they had been encountering serious competition from an­other new mode of transporta­tion: the railroad.

Lycoming County claimed its share of railroading ven­tures, as did many counties in the mid-nineteenth century and, much like many of their counterparts, these early experiments – usually for lack of adequate funding – failed, often bankrupting investors and entrepreneurs. The early chronicles of Lycoming County serve as testimony to the initiative and energy of the companies that attempted to introduce rail service to north­-central Pennsylvania. The Jersey Shore and Willardsburg Railroad was established in 1836. The Williamsport Rail­road, chartered in 1837, faced many hardships, and was known for a period as the Williamsport and Elmira Rail­road; during the late nine­teenth century it emerged as the Northern Central Railroad. Founded in 1837, the Sunbury and Erie Railroad offered serv­ice between Sunbury and Williamsport by 1855, and was known as the Philadelphia and Erie Railroad after being leased to the Pennsylvania Railroad in 1861. The Loyalsock Railroad Company was incorporated in 1839. The Muncy Creek Railroad was created in 1864. The Jersey Shore, Pine Creek and Buffalo Railroad, later known as the Fall Brook Railroad, opened to Williamsport in 1883. The Beech Creek Rail­road was completed in 1884. There were others as well­ – and many which helped spawn the lumber boom with which Lycoming County is often associated.

Incorporated in 1806 by an act signed by Gov. Thomas McKean, Williamsport owed its rapid development and prosperity to the booming lumber trade and related in­dustries. Although sawmills are known to have been built as early as 1792, it was another forty years before the industry impacted significantly on the regional economy. William­sport’s first sawmill was built in 1838 by Cochran, Biers and Company, a Philadelphia concern, and commonly called the “Big Water Mill” by area residents. The company failed after three years and was pur­chased at a sheriff’s sale by the firm of Updegraff and Arm­strong; it later went through a number of upheavals, new partners and changes in its name, until it was destroyed by fire in 1863.

Just as early transportation pioneers had applied steam to propel their vessels, so too did industrialists attempt to cap­ture the power of steam for their ventures. Peter Tinsman established Lycoming Coun­ty’s first steam-driven mill in 1852, followed shortly by his brother Garrett, whose con­cern, Woolverton and Tins­man, opened not far from the original steam-powered shops. Realizing the importance of steam to power the cutting and planing equipment, other lumbering companies soon employed boilers to operate their equipment, including John and Charles Dodge, and Peter Herdic and B.H. Taylor, both in 1854.

The advent of fairly reliable transportation and the em­ployment of technology in the mid-nineteenth century spelled nothing but success for adventurous lumber busi­nesses throughout north­-central Pennsylvania. The White, Lentz and White Com­pany of Williamsport, formed in 1859, produced between fifteen and twenty million feet of board each year during the late nineteenth century! By 1890, the City of Williamsport alone counted more than two thousand men employed by the lumber industry, whose products totaled more than seven million dollars annually. At the time, the community’s mill complexes were estimated to be worth nearly ten million dollars in themselves. In the early 1890s, Dodge Mills, oper­ated by the Pennsylvania Joint Lumber and Land Company, turned out more than thirty million board feet; the Wil­liamsport Land and Lumber Company more than eighteen million; Strong, Deemer and Company, twenty-eight mil­lion; B.C. Bowman and Com­pany, ten million; and Brown, Clarke and Brown, twenty million. And those figures represented only one settle­ment’s involvement in the lumber boom-throughout the county similar activity and prosperity were having their impact on countless laborers, speculators, investors and companies.

The lumber boom spawned not only sawmills, but planing mills and factories, some of which manufactured toys, doors, window frames, boxes and furniture. In addition to adequate transportation sys­tems and the mechanization of the mills, it was, perhaps, the oddly named Susquehanna Boom Company that made it all possible.

Maj. James H. Perkins was one of the first visionaries to realize that Lycoming Coun­ty’s vast wilderness merely waited to be exploited. The proximity of the Susquehanna River to the great tracts of timber made the prospect of lumbering attractive for specu­lators and businessmen, espe­cially since the river’s tributaries could be used to power mills, and the river itself could be used to float the immense log rafts to the saw­mills to the south. Perkins, who arrived in 1845, also knew that many valuable logs were lost on the river, and the fol­lowing year was instrumental in creating the Susquehanna Boom Company to construct twelve piers to hold logs that were floated to the mills. Not long after the founding of the Susquehanna Boom Company, several similar companies were created, including the Loy­alsock Boom and the Jersey Shore Boom companies, each constructing piers several miles long. According to histo­rians, more than five and a half billion feet of logs passed through these booms in a thirty year period, from 1862 to 1891.

Many Lycoming County villages – including Jersey Shore, founded in 1826 by Reuben Manning of New Jersey, hence its name­ – prospered during the great lumber boom, even if their principal product was not lumber. Jersey Shore, for ex­ample, claimed several early tanneries, foundries, machine shops, sawmills and a gas works (as early as 1859). Muncy, originally named Pen­nsborough in honor of William Penn’s family, was settled in the late eighteenth century, and eventually attracted a number of important indus­tries, especially the Muncy Woolen Mills Company, founded in 1882; the Muncy Manufacturing Company, Limited, which made furni­ture, in 1887; the Muncy Table Works Company, created in 1888; the Muncy Agricultural Works, which made patterns for farming equipment; and the Muncy Machine Works, which manufactured and repaired all types of engines and machinery. First known as Hughesburg, Hughesville, incorporated in 1852, was the site of blacksmithing shops, tanneries and a number of distilleries, while Montours­ville hosted various mills for flour, lumber and paper.

Much like the seemingly impenetrable forests which once covered its mountains and valleys, the heritage of Lycoming County is deep and densely populated by scores of individuals and industries, whose contributions helped shape the destiny of both the Commonwealth and the na­tion. Their names­ – Williamsport’s Peter Herdic, Andrew Culbertson of DuBois and William Fisher Packer, who served as governor from 1858 to 1861 – have not been lost in the annals of local or state history, but are a constant reminder of the importance of vision, courage and thriftiness, as well as patience and perse­verance. Long gone are the shrill sounds of the lumber camp whistles, the grinding of the planing mills and the hus­tle of the small boomtowns, but the romance lingers, recall­ing an era when adventurers risked all to carve their niche in history. To this day, the romance of Lycoming County is undeniable. Because of its steeply pitched mountains that continue as far as the eye can see, it remains magical, almost mysterious. A place that time somehow forgot. But time did not forget Lycoming County, nor will historians neglect its rightful place in history. As romantic as it may appear today, Lycoming County has contributed greatly to the Commonwealth’s transporta­tion, economic and industrial heritage – contributions that helped stabilize a fledgling nation.

For Further Reading

Clarke, William Packer. The Life and Times of Hon. William Fisher Packer. Williamsport, Pa.: Lycoming Historical Society, 1937.

Day, Sherman. Historical Col­lections of the State of Pennsylva­nia. Philadelphia: George W. Gorton, 1843.

Egle, William H. History of the Commonwealth of Pennsylva­nia. Philadelphia: E.M. Gardner, 1883.

Federal Writers’ Project. A Pic­ture of Lycoming County. Wil­liamsport, Pa.: Commissioners of Lycoming County, 1939.

Humes, James C. Sweet Dream: Tales of a River City. Williamsport, Pa.: The Williamsport Centennial, Inc., 1966.

Huntley, George William. The Story of the Sinnamahone. Williamsport, Pa.: Williamsport Printing and Binding Company, 1936.

Larson, Robert H. William­sport: Frontier Village to Re­gional Center. Woodland Hills, Cal.: Windsor Publications, Inc., 7984.

Meginnes, John F. History of Lycoming County, Pennsylva­nia. Chicago: Brown, Runk and Company, 1892.

____. Otzinachson; or, A His­tory of the West Branch of the Susquehanna. Philadelphia: Henry B. Ashmead, 1857.

Mook, Maurice A. Population Trends in Lycoming County Since 1960. Williamsport, Pa.: Lycoming College Press, 1971.

Taber, Thomas T. A Chronologi­cal History of Muncy. Muncy: Privately Printed, 1966.

This is Muncy. Muncy, Pa.: Junior Chamber of Commerce of Muncy, Pennsylvania, 1966.

Wheeland, Alverna F., comp. Early Williamsport in Block Prints. Williamsport, Pa.: Theo­dore Roosevelt Junior High School, 1937.

Wood, T.K. Muncy: The Ancient Borough. Muncy, Pa.: Muncy Luminary, 1936.

The editor wishes to thank Donald R. Brown for his generos­ity in making available rare and vintage post cards of Lycoming County for both research and publication. Currently specializ­ing in post card views of the Commonwealth’s communities, the lender owns more than eighty thousand Pennsylvania images. He regularly contributes illustra­tions to this magazine.

Michael J. O’Malley III is editor of this magazine. A native Pennsyl­vanian, he joined the Pennsylva­nia Historical and Museum Commission in 1978.