Frozen Mon River remembered
Editor’s note: This year’s mild winter weather is in stark contrast to that of many years past, winters that were so cold that people could walk across the frozen Monongahela River at Brownsville to avoid paying the toll on the wooden covered bridge that spanned the river. In this column, which first appeared in January 1999, Glenn Tunney describes that covered bridge and one such wintry scene. The scene framed by our sunroom windows just before Christmas was of our dormant grey-green lawn and leafless trees in the woods beyond the back yard. The scene did not resemble those portrayed on the traditional Christmas cards we received this year. Outside our window there was no blanket of snow, no glistening web of icy branches, no icicles hanging from the eaves. It may be one of the few times of the year when folks hope for snow and cold weather to make it “look like Christmas.” Of course, the cold weather also brings with it the challenge of traveling on slippery roads or walking on icy sidewalks.
In a river town like Brownsville, wintry weather once had implications that it no longer carries. I mentioned last week that I recently had the opportunity to look over a collection of historic post cards. Ray Christner of Brownsville has patiently assembled the collection. One card is an undated photograph of the old wooden bridge that crossed the Monongahela River at Brownsville. The photograph shows the covered bridge in winter. The river beneath the bridge is frozen.
In the distance, several steamboats can be seen moored along the West Brownsville riverbank. The ice on the river could be dangerous to such boats. I have seen photographs of the trapped “Alicia,” a steamboat caught in and crushed by the ice.
To me, the most interesting feature of the photograph is the large number of people who are standing on the ice in the middle of the river. It is not possible to distinguish whether they are ice-skating, ice fishing, just walking around or crossing the river.
The covered bridge was solidly built. It may surprise some readers to learn that the government did not build it. The National Road through Brownsville was completed by 1818. Along the entire length of the road from Cumberland to Wheeling, there was only one river crossing where the federal government did not build a bridge.
That crossing was over the Monongahela River at Brownsville. Instead, travelers depended upon two different ferryboat operators to get them across the river.
One of the ferries was the Gillespie ferry. Established in 1784, it operated at the approximate site of the present-day wharf at the bottom of Bank Street. In 1794, Neil Gillespie’s son-in-law, John Krepps, established a second ferry. Krepps lived on Water Street near the present-day site of the South Side Volunteer Fire Department. His ferry crossed from that spot and landed in West Brownsville at the old stone tavern (Owens Tavern), which still stands hidden among the brick Thompson distillery buildings.
When there was ice on the river, the ferry service would halt. Travelers then had to decide whether to “try” the ice. It was at times like this that the need for a bridge was most acutely felt.
In 1830, a private company was formed to build a wooden covered bridge. Construction began in 1831 and the bridge opened in 1833. It was a toll bridge, designed to make a profit for the capitalists who had financed its construction.
The covered bridge had one lane in each direction, separated by an elevated pedestrian walkway along the center. Tolls were two cents per person and five cents per rig. The toll keeper lived in the bridge in quarters built above the tollbooth.
In February 1856, an act was passed prohibiting the collection of tolls from people who were going to and from church. I have often wondered how the toll collector could prove or disprove where his Sunday morning customers were bound to or coming from. I know that my own grandmother, Mabel McCleary Tunney, lived in West Brownsville as a young girl and crossed the river several times a week to attend various church activities at the fledgling First Christian Church of Brownsville. I wonder if the toll exemption for churchgoers applied only on Sundays.
The bridge’s support structure was built of solid oak, while the sides were made of poplar. When it came time to tear it down in 1910, the condition of the wood was still excellent. The U. S. Department of War determined that the bridge, though in good condition, was “an obstruction to modern river traffic.” During high water, many modern boats could not fit under the bridge, which was much lower than the present inter-county bridge. The piers were farther out into the river than the present bridge’s piers. The span was closed for good in September 1910 and two ferryboats went into temporary operation until September 1914 when the present inter-county bridge opened to traffic.
In June 1991, I was talking with the late Algy Teasdale at his home in South Brownsville. The subject of the covered bridge came up. At the time, Algy, whose given name was Algernon, was 90 years old. He would have been 10 years old when the covered bridge was closed.
Algy had been describing to me the stores that stood along each side of the street in the Neck, just after the turn of the century. He was patiently verbally walking me down the street from door to door, telling me what business or doctor occupied each location. He “took me” over the cast-iron bridge spanning Dunlap’s Creek and around the bend onto Bank Street, traveling toward the wharf. As we rounded the next corner onto Water Street and covered the block to the Brownsville Hardware, he said, “Then came the old wooden bridge.”
“You remember that?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. I walked it many a time. At that time,” he chuckled, “boys on this side wasn’t allowed on the other side, and the boys over there, we wouldn’t allow them to come over here.”
I had heard about this fierce territorial jealousy among the young men of Brownsville, Bridgeport and West Brownsville.
“What happened if somebody did? Big fight?”
“Fight,” he agreed. “So I used to go with a girl in West Brownsville. I’d walk down the railroad track, go across the railroad bridge, go up and see Lucille.”
The subject of ice on the river came up. Algy remembered the ice.
“Pappy Long. He had a little mine out here.” Algy motioned toward the east from his easy chair. “Above Century, up around there, domestic coal. I’d go up there with a team of horses and a sled, load up with coal, and drive it right across the Monongahela River. On the ice. All the way across, delivering coal to West Brownsville.”
He paused to reflect. “People can’t believe it. Oh, this river’d be closed up practically all winter, no ferry in it. You just walked across the ice.”
“Wonder why it’s not like that any more,” I said. “Maybe more boats going up to keep it open.”
“Well, they had all these boats, these mines were gettin’ barges in, they built these locks,” Algy observed. “The big paddlewheelers, they’d come up backwards pullin’ a tow so the paddlewheels would be breakin’ the ice.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize they could go backwards.”
“Oh, yeah, they’d pull ’em backwards breakin’ the ice. Because if they shoved the empty barges, the barges would go up on the ice.”
“Those paddlewheels must have been made of . . . what, metal?”
“Oh, part of it was metal; it had a lot of wood. The wood in the paddle was that thick.”
Algy held up his hand, thumb and index finger several inches apart. “And they had terrific steam engines to push ’em, turn ’em.”
The spectacle of the frozen river often attracted large crowds to the riverbank, particularly if the ice was breaking up. Another post card photograph, taken sometime between 1903 and 1910, shows a line of spectators standing along the Brownsville side of the river behind the old Union Station building. The crowd, perched on the edge of the stone abutment supporting the railroad tracks, is looking at the icebound river. No navigable channel is visible in the ice. It appears only patience and warmer weather would open the river to navigation again that year.
Today, predictions of wintry weather and frigid temperatures prompt preparations for tricky driving on slippery roads. In the early days of this century, such weather set much different plans in motion. Adventurous residents donned ice skates and went gliding on the Monongahela River. Venturous entrepreneurs went to the river with saws or axes to chop ice, storing it in ice cellars to be used or sold in warmer months. People, sleighs, or wagons crossed the Monongahela on the ice.
It was truly a different world in the winters of yesteryear.
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Comments about these articles may be sent to Editor Mark O’Keefe, 8 – 18 East Church Street, Uniontown, PA or e-mailed to mo’keefe@heraldstandard.com .