M.I.McCreight Told Colorful Tale of Old Reynoldsville
Article in The Reynoldsville Star, January 1949
We
stated last week that we would print the talk given by Major I.
McCreight before the Kiwanis Club January 10th because we thought it
would be of interest to many. Major McCreight's talk appears below, and
is well worth reading---for the older residents for they may recall the
people and places mentioned, and for the younger residents because of
Major's interesting account of what Reynoldsville was like when it was
still pretty much of an Indian path.
Major McCreight is one of
this section's most colorful personalities, and one of the few living
survivors of a great era in the history of the State.
"If
Belmont Mosser knew I was here to even mention Indians, he might, in
our cold war, lift the iron curtain. When elevated to the grand
chieftainship, he promised me cooperation to clear the dark page of
Kiwanis history. When organized, the little band of Detroit businessmen
appropriated as its title, the name and fame of a Pottowatomi Indian.
Kiwanis
was a noted chief---a prominent business man. His name appears on half
a dozen treaties as Kiwanis the "Trader." His signature gave the tricky
whites a large slice of Indiana, Iowa, Illinois and Michigan---the
consideration for which was mostly booze, beads and bullets.
I
called upon Mosser to clear the record by erecting a huge monument to
that great Indian for giving his name and fame to United States' and
Canada's best business boosters.
He hasn't reported results.
Muth
invited me to talk of Pennsylvania history--and I promised, for this is
my old home town--and no part of Pennsylvania has more or better
history than originates here. I can tell you about some of it that I
knew, for I was here before you had any railroad. I rode a construction
train to see the Irish blasting the tunnel at Sabula, through Swamp
Siding now known as DuBois, all the way in shade of great pine forests.
This you cannot now understand or appreciate.
And I could take
you to the big Scott mill below the railroad bridge at the mouth of
Trout Run, where they cut millions of feet of pine logs to be shipped
when the new railroad was ready, and that was before the great mill of
John DuBois was built!
What you know as Reynoldsville did not
exist. A new house of Woodward Reynolds, some frame shacks on Main
Street, including a couple of stores, then up and over the hill to
Charlie Burns' house, and the McCracken and Gordon stores opposite the
shook-shop and Sankey's store down by the run. Further on east was the
post office, 10X12, blue-striped, and in front of Uncle Tom Reynolds'
log cabin beside the big willow which still stands there.
This was Reynoldsville!
But
the real town of that day was Cold Spring and Prescottville, the big
dam, the big store and the big mills all were the center of activity
for the whole region. The big white grist mill with its giant water
wheel turning three stone burrs watched over by Henry Horner, the
white-coated miller, and the big sawmill, with its mammoth boilers and
old-style long stroke engine turning the circular buzz saws, and the
bull-wheel for hauling logs from the dam above, the grist mill on the
north bank and the sawmill on the south bank; the bridge and pavement
occupy much of the sawmill site now. The big dam and the mills were the
drawing card for farmers and lumbermen in all the district, both summer
and winter. Saw logs were sorted, boomed and turned into lumber and
shingles for market and the square timber floated down for rafting in
at Sandy Lick. The largest pine in the state was cut--a single stick
being 44'X44' face 50 feet long, where Big Soldier mines were later
opened. It required four teams of oxen and horses to haul it to the
dam. It later floated to Pittsburgh, was sold there and sent on to
Cincinnati where it was cut into ship-lap. An engineer figured the
result and told me the lumber at that time would be worth $1900. Now,
at present price, would be around four or five times as much. In spring
and summer, the dam was a fine sporting place. Wild ducks and geese
brought hunters, and bass, sunfish and catfish kept the fishermen busy.
Winter brought out the skaters and the ice-harvest crews.
As the
pioneer Kiwanian, I consider that your club could do nothing more
appreciated by all the people than to sponsor the rebuilding of this
inland sea. A few days with a bulldozer, a concrete or stone spillway,
cleaning out of the old logs and stumps. The cost would be trivial,
compared with the enormous value it would be to your own club and town.
The Governor and the State Forests and Waters Department can readily be
induced to do the job if your club and town would insist that it be
done.
We will go forward a few years to the birth of the coal-------(balance missing)
Editorial in DuBois Courier, August 6, 1955
HIGH
ABOVE THE CITY: High on a mountain top just south of the city lives a
man who has seen nine decades of world history pass before his eyes.
Major I. McCreight was born in the era of Lincoln and the
reconstruction period. He has seen in his time the development of the
electric light, the telegraph and telephone, and has noted the progress
in transportation from the wagon trails and stages through the growth
of the railroads, motor and bus lines, the great ocean liners, and the
jet planes which can take one across the country in a matter of hours.
He saw the destruction of his home town in the great fire of the
eighties, and its rebuilding into a prosperous third class city. He has
prospected in the west, been made a chief of an Indian tribe, and has
entertained many Indian chieftains in his home. Long a friend of the
Redmen, his policies instituted through the federal government have
done much to better their lot today.
Perhaps the outstanding
monument which will ever stand to his memory is the Cook Forest Park,
the preservation of which he conceived, and which he salvaged when
predatory interests would have caused its destruction. The story is too
long to tell here of the fight for preservation, but suffice to state
that it took seventeen years of hard work, and a personal investment of
more than ten thousand dollars to finally save this last remaining
vestige of virgin forest for future generations.
A prolific
writer of Indian tales, Mr. McCreight has had several books published,
and has a national reputation as an author and conservationist.
As
Mr.McCreight sits quietly these summer days on his hill-top, smoking
his pipe and gazing over the city for which he has done so much,
visions must pass before his eyes of years gone by; of the stirring
events in an active life; of his growing family in their younger days;
of the great men of his time who have driven up the winding trail to
his mountain home; of the battles he has fought and won, and perhaps
sometimes lost. As the shadows grow longer he may, too, have visions of
the future; of a thriving city which will grow because he helped lay
the foundations well; of a nation which will increase in stature in its
international relationships, because of the type of philosophy and
labor which he represents. This newspaper wishes for him, in his
retirement, many more years of pleasant contemplation in a healthy mind
and body.
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