Road project leads to discovery
Editor’s Note: In the late 1990s, interest was intense among area residents as the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission pondered a major decision about the eventual route of the Brownsville-to-Uniontown link of the Mon-Fayette Expressway. Advocates of the “northern” and “southern” routes attended public hearings and presented their arguments while many anxious property owners wondered if their homes would be in the path of the new highway. Glenn Tunney’s property was among those located within the proposed corridor of the “southern route.” That period of uncertainty was the setting for the following column, which was originally published in November 1998.This is a story of how the search for a suitable route for the Mon-Fayette Expressway uncovered an area home’s rich history but revealed a long-forgotten dark secret.
In January 1997, I received a certified letter from the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission. It informed me that my house, which is situated just east of Grindstone Foodland on the southern side of Route 40, was located within a potential corridor for the Mon-Fayette Expressway. Upon making some inquiries, I discovered that my neighbors had received similar letters. We all began to carefully read all newspaper stories about the progress of the route selection process.
A few months later, my neighbor Carl Brown and I were simultaneously mowing our fast-growing spring lawns. Carl, his wife Yasmin, and their two daughters, Seneca and Carly, live next to me in their historic two-story stone farmhouse, nestled in a shady hollow. As our lawn tractors approached each other, Carl and I took a break from mowing to spend a few moments discussing the expressway.
I mentioned to Carl that perhaps the historic nature of his home would “save” it from the bulldozers. Of course, I was hoping that my own home, located just a few hundred feet up the road from Carl’s, would benefit from its proximity to the Brown home and would be declared off limits as well.
With this thought in mind, I telephoned a previous owner of the Brown house, Mrs. Vera McDonough, who had lived there when I moved into my own house in 1976. I was hoping to pinpoint the age of the Brown house. Vera told me that she seemed to remember that the date “1876” was carved somewhere on the chimney in the attic. I immediately relayed this information to Carl Brown. We were encouraged by the possibility that his house was at least 120 years old.
One afternoon just a few weeks later, I received a phone call from Yasmin Brown, who informed me that a lady named Norene Halvonik, an historian, was at their house at that very moment. The Turnpike Commission had hired her to determine whether the house’s possible historical significance might prevent the proposed highway corridor from including the Brown property.
I recognized Norene Halvonik’s name immediately, having read her excellent treatise on the historic architecture of Brownsville. Yasmin felt that I would be interested in meeting Norene, both as a teacher of local history and as a neighbor with a vested interest in the results of her investigation.
The Browns and I had an intriguing discussion with Norene. She walked around the outside of the house with us, expressing her thoughts about the building as we circled it. She noted that the windows on the front of the house (which faces Route 40) were of a very plain design, while those on the back of the house were unexpectedly decoratively arched. She had already done some preliminary research at the Fayette County courthouse, and she said that she thought that the house might date back much earlier than 1876. We liked the sound of that, and we anxiously awaited her final report.
In June 1997, Norene wrote to the Browns and enclosed a copy of her report. In it, she revealed her discovery that Carl and Yasmin Brown’s property was once part of a much larger tract of land that was purchased in 1786 by Basil Brown, brother of Thomas Brown, who was the founder of Brownsville. When Basil Brown died in 1807, his will divided his tract among five of his six children, with Basil Brown Jr. inheriting a 220-acre plot that included Carl Brown’s current property. What is not clear from the will, which is still on file at the courthouse, is whether Carl Brown’s house had been built by the time of Basil Brown’s death. On this score, Norene’s architectural knowledge helped uncover some clues.
The house sits back 500 feet from Route 40 and faces the highway. However, Norene explained that an old state road had once passed “behind” (south of) the Brown’s house, then angled toward the present-day National Road and intersected its path at the present junction of Routes 40 and 166. Because the windows on the present-day rear of the Brown house are far more elaborately decorated than those on the present-day front, Norene concluded that the present “back” of the house was originally the “front” of the house and that the original front door faced the old State Road. This turned out to be a crucial inference in determining the house’s age.
Norene’s deduction was bolstered by the fact that the plain brick section of wall that surrounds the present “front” door of the house is less attractive than the all-stone facade of the house’s present “rear” wall. By merging this architectural evidence with her courthouse research, Norene concluded that the house was built to face the old State Road, which means it was almost certainly constructed before the National Road was built in the early 1800s.
Norene estimated that the house was probably constructed around 1800-1810, making it far older than the Browns and I had dared to hope that it might be. Her report went on to identify it as a “historically significant structure.” Consequently, expressway planners designated it as such on their detailed maps, and the toll road corridor would avoid the Brown’s property.
But the most provocative and disturbing aspect of this episode was revealed to me by Carl Brown. In addition to sending him a copy of her report, Ms. Halvonik had sent Carl a photocopy of Basil Brown’s handwritten will, which was signed on Feb. 13, 1807, and witnessed by Jacob Bowman and two other men. When Basil Brown Sr., original owner of the property and probable builder of the Brown house, died in 1807, he left more than his house and land to his son, Basil Jr. A chilling phrase leaps from the closely spaced, neatly handwritten sentences of his will.
It reads, “. . . Also I give and bequeath to my own Basil my Negro Boy named Andrew.”
Basil Brown bequeathed to his son, Basil Jr., a slave named Andrew. He also willed a second slave named Sue to his daughter, Eleanor, who lived a mile away. No clue is given as to the ages of these two unfortunate souls; no hint as to whether they were related to each other. In her letter, Norene expressed surprise that slavery still existed in Pennsylvania in 1807. My own recollection is that Pennsylvania had passed a law that resulted in the “gradual” elimination of slavery in the commonwealth. As a result, some older slaves were still in bondage in Pennsylvania into the early 1800s.
What an eerie discovery. The possibility that the halls of the house now owned by Carl and Yasmin Brown once echoed to the footsteps of slaves is one to make us all pause. What a different world we live in from that which Basil Brown and his slaves, Andrew and Sue, inhabited.
Nearly two centuries ago, a man named Brown built the stone house, which now stands next to my own home in Redstone Township. He maintained his house and property with the help of two captive slaves. Today, that home is owned by another man named Brown.
Carl Brown is an African-American.
I recently watched Carl as he carefully trimmed the shrubbery in his neatly kept front yard. He worked within the late afternoon shadows cast by his house’s silent walls. As I watched him, I could not help but shake my head and think, “If only those walls could talk.”
Would they tell a story of hopeless servitude and heartless separation long ago? Or would the tale be an uplifting parable of the evolution of American society toward the goal of liberty for all?
The Brownsville region is richly blessed with these historic stone homes. They are silent sentinels that have witnessed the unfolding story of America.
If only they could tell us all that they have seen.
—
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 .