Currently viewing the tag: "Sabillasville"

Brady’s Auto & Truck Solutions Now Open in Sabillasville

Kenny Brady’s journey to becoming a diesel mechanic began with his first truck. When it broke down, his father refused to cover the repair costs, so Brady took matters into his own hands and learned how to fix it himself. That pivotal moment marked the beginning of his passion for mechanics—a passion that eventually led to the founding of his own business.

Today, a photo of that first truck proudly hangs in the lobby of Brady’s Auto & Truck Solutions, a tribute to how it all started.

Kenny and his wife, Lindsay, recently opened Brady’s Auto & Truck Solutions, located at 17040 Sabillasville Road in Sabillasville. Although Kenny has been doing automotive work on the side for the past decade, owning his own shop has always been his dream.

The couple takes pride in delivering high-quality work at reasonable prices. Brady’s Auto & Truck Solutions offers a wide range of automotive services, including brake repairs, diagnostics, air conditioning services, and more. Kenny even extends his expertise to 4-wheelers, side-by-sides, and trailers. Lindsay describes her husband as an honest and straightforward person; when working on your vehicle, he’s upfront about what needs immediate attention and offers advice on preventive maintenance to avoid future issues.

Brady’s Auto & Truck Solutions operates Monday through Friday, from 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., with weekend appointments available upon request.

To schedule your next appointment, visit their Facebook page or call 301-462-3789.

The Brady Family poses outside their new business.

The Timeless Tale of Dave and Margie Harman

Alisha Yocum

Dave and Margie were married on June 22, 1958, at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church in Sabillasville.

Dave and Margie Harman, married 65 years.

Photo by Alisha Yocum

David (Dave) Harman was working at ACME Market near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, when he first met Margie Lantz, his now wife of 65 years. Margie’s sister and brother-in-law, Laura and Frank, worked at the ACME store in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, so the first time Dave met Margie was when she was tagging along with Laura and Frank on their visit to the Gettysburg store.

Soon thereafter, Laura and Frank transferred from the Waynesboro store over to the store near Gettysburg.

“We were holding a one-year anniversary celebration at the store [Gettysburg] when Laura and Frank brought her along to help with serving goodies. I suppose it was fate that day. I may have made a few extra trips by the table to get some cookies and punch,” said Dave, with a grin on his face.

Margie’s sister and brother-in-law working at the same store would lead to more opportunities to spend time with Margie, as Dave was invited to family events, like Margie’s 16th birthday party. Dave remembers driving from Gettysburg to Sabillasville in his 1949 Plymouth on his first visit to see Margie. Unfortunately, Dave stopped to get directions to the Lantz’s house, but no one knew who Walter Lantz was. This was because Margie’s dad went by the nickname “Buck,” and no one in the community knew him by his given name, Walter. It wasn’t until Dave’s second attempt to visit Margie that he was successful in finding her family home.

In that same 1949 Plymouth, they would drive to their first date at the Majestic Theater in Gettysburg. In a few short years, Dave and Margie, who were 22 and 19 years old, would be married on June 22, 1958, at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church in Sabillasville, followed by a reception at her parent’s farm right down the road. Margie remembers the old farmhouse being full of people and all the wonderful food her mom made for the reception.

The newlyweds would only have five short months together before Dave was drafted into the United States Army. After completing basic training and radar school, Dave was one of five from his unit who were selected to stay behind rather than go to serve in the Korean War. He was stationed at Ft. Carson in Colorado. On their first anniversary, Margie and Dave once again hopped in the Plymouth and drove across country to Colorado Springs, so Dave could report for duty. While there, Margie found a job working for Mecca Hotel. The Harmans remember fondly how kind and nice everyone was in Colorado, and they enjoyed family coming to visit them to see popular tourist sites like Pike’s Peak.

In December 1960, Dave was discharged, and he and Margie made their way back to Maryland, where they lived temporarily with Margie’s parents until they could find a place of their own. However, life had different plans, and Margie’s father soon fell ill, so the two decided to stay and help work on the family farm.

At that time, Margie’s family ran a dairy operation, which back then meant milking by hand. Dave had some experience working on a farm, but he learned a lot from the Lantz family. Dave would work his job at ACME Market during the day and work the farm in the evening—many times, still plowing fields at 11:00 p.m.

Dave said his father-in-law told him the Thurmont Bank was looking to hire, and he said, “When your father-in-law speaks, you listen.” Dave interviewed for the job and was hired to handle loans before being promoted to head bank teller and then to bank manager, eventually retiring after 32 years with the bank.

During these years, Margie continued to do farmwork and raise their two sons, David Jr. and Mark. Soon, the family, with their two sons, would switch from dairy to beef cattle.

Today, Dave and Margie don’t spend as much time doing farm chores, but their two sons have kept the farm going. 

After 65 years of marriage, the Harman’s advice is “Agree to disagree.”

Dave said, in marriage, you are going to have differences of opinions. For them, there were many times that they did not always agree, but he said they worked through things and eventually came to an agreement.

The Harmans can’t recall any big challenges over the years, but Dave attributes this to not making a big deal out of things. Even though both have been through health challenges, they continue to take care of each other.

“God willing, we hope we can enjoy a few more years together,” said Dave.

Joan Bittner Fry

In the early 1950s, there was a dance hall/restaurant in Sabillasville. My parents, Harold and Helen Bittner, owned it.  Previously, it had been a salvage yard owned by Buck Wierman and is now a church. Do you recall hearing about it?

The deed was transferred from Leroy A. Wierman to Harold A. Bittner on August 23, 1949. The restaurant and dance hall operated from 1950 to 1953. I believe milkshakes and sandwiches were 50 cents, soda was 5 cents, and soup was a quarter.

The Bend (so named because it was within the Western Maryland RR’s Horseshoe Bend in Sabillasville) was opened to give the young people of the community a place to gather. On Friday nights from 9:00 p.m. to midnight, dances were held with country bands such as The Carroll County Ramblers, Joe Phillips, the Young Brothers (Mehrle being one of the brothers), and The Sunnyside Ramblers. Some band members I can recall were Les Sanders (banjo), Glenn Wolfe (drums and spoons), Harland Benchoff, Larry Harbaugh (fiddle, and his memorable rendition of “The Orange Blossom Special”), Carroll Harbaugh (bass fiddle), and Jim and Jimmy Lynn (guitars). In the beginning, the band was paid $5.00; increasing to $15.00; then to $20.00, and then to $25.00. Those fellows sure didn’t play for three hours for the money!

For the Friday night dance, my late sister, Barbara, and I would make a supply of tickets each week. They were whatever we could dream up, and each had to have a punched hole with a string. Patrons were not to go outside during the evening. My mother was always on watch to be sure if you did go out, you had your own ticket when you returned. We would decorate with crepe paper streamers, which would sag as the evening warmed up. Sometimes, there was an abundance of dance wax on the hardwood floor.

I remember it well. This is where I learned to dance: Jitterbug, two-step, slow dance, Paul Jones—we did it all. Of course, I wasn’t even a teenager at the time, so I believe I was tolerated. There were some Filipino sailors stationed at Camp David at the time who could really dance. I loved it when I could dance with them. I wonder now what they thought. They seemed to enjoy our country shindigs because they were there often.

Some of the first recordings of attendance at the Friday night dances were 35, 29, 41, 62, 62, 67, 76, 78, 88, 83, 75, 94, 86, 73, 54, 80, 75, 108, 114, 84, 100, 126, 114, 118, 94, 105, 125, 122, 111, 94, 104, 84, and 119.

By the time the coin-operated amusement devices tax, the trader’s tax, the restaurant tax, the jukebox tax, and the cigarette tax were all taken care of, there was little to no profit; but as I said before, it was for the young people of the community. Soon, many of the local young men went into the service. This had an effect on the attendance at the dances and, in 1953, the business was closed. 

All I have left are memories and a table and a back bench from one of the booths. It was quite an era!

Photo by Blair Garrett

Tickets and cards from The Bend. 

The Thurmont Grange #409 recently presented dictionaries to all northern Frederick County third-grade students. This is a community-service project called “Words for Thirds,” and all of the third-grade students in the Catoctin feeder system received dictionaries (Sabillasville, Lewistown, Thurmont, and Emmitsburg Elementary Schools).

The Grange is an agricultural organization, which is deeply rooted in the community. Many of its members are farmers, businessmen and women, and its focus is on community service, legislation, education, and agriculture. Many of our members hold local, county, and state offices to promote the Grange.

Every year, the Grange helps at events such as the Thurmont & Emmitsburg Community Show, the Frederick Fair (where they put in an exhibit at the Farm and Garden Building), the Catoctin Colorfest, and the annual Cookie Walk in December, to name a few. The Grange holds a Veterans’ Appreciation Night, and has also donated funds and items to the Thurmont Food Bank, Catoctin FFA, Boy Scouts, Catoctin Safe & Sane, and so forth. 

The dictionary has many features, such as the history of the Presidents of the United States, the solar system, sign language, and also the longest word in the United States.

Emmitsburg Elementary School (from left): (front row) Patrick Morgan, Payton Fritz, Clary Walker, Vivian Satterlee; (back row) Paulette Mathias, Robert Wiles, and Carolyn Wiles.

Sabillasville Environmental School (from left): David Savage, Michele Heerema, Emma Santos, Blake Wagaman, Mattee Lambert, Catherine Riggs, Ryan Balsley, and Jane Savage.

Thurmont Elementary School (from left): Jody Eyler, Caythee Ruby, Jennifer Reynolds, Carol Long, Nancy Wine, John Wine, Charlotte Donnelly, Carli Savage, Kaylee Hoff, Braden Weber, Aaron Oden, Caroline Stevens, McKinnly Glotfelty, Ryan Vorndran, Harper Strobel, Kam Dal, and Lukas Bromwell.

Sabillasville Caught up in Chinese Civil War

by James Rada, Jr.

Once Marion Firor left Thurmont on the express train on August 20, 1916, it took her more than a month to reach China, where she was to become a missionary teacher. She fell in love with the country and the people there, only to see it ripped apart by war.

She received word of her appointment at the Yochow School in Yochow, China, a city of about 40,000 people, on April 27 and began making preparations for her departure. She had to resign from her teaching position at Boonsboro High School where she taught English.

Her father was the reverend at St. John’s Reformed Church in Sabillasville. He held a farewell service for his daughter at the church on August 10.

She enjoyed her work at the school and loved the children, but tensions were brewing in the country. She wrote her family regularly, although it took the letters just as long to reach her family as it had taken Marion to reach China.

She wrote that many of the buildings in Yochow were made of gray brick and ranged from one to three stories tall. Although foreigners worked in the city, there was still some xenophobic sentiment among the people.

“Yochow was one of the last cities of China to admit foreigners, and they are still looked upon askance by some,” Marion wrote.

Still, she loved the Chinese people and admired their ability to endure. “Calamities that would crush foreigners seem never to faze them. It is nothing unusual for a merchant owning a stand to have his business totally destroyed several times by the frequent fires or looted by soldiers. Yet, he begins again at the bottom only to have his work once more undone,” she wrote.

In early April 1918, the Firors received a cable that read “Yochow in ashes—Missionaries safe—women gone from the city.”

Fighting had broken out in China among various factions. Her family was anxious over whether Marion had remained safe or not as they waited for further word from her and read news reports of the fighting.

The fighting moved away from Yochow, and Marion returned to the school and resumed teaching.

Then, in late June of 1920, word reached the Firors that soldiers had murdered Rev. W. A. Reimert in Yochow. This was someone Marion knew and worked with on occasion. The Firors once again grew anxious over the safety of their daughter.

They received a letter from Marion in early August that had been written a few days before her parents had heard of Rev. Reimert’s murder. She was in Chinkungahan and wrote of people fleeing the city on a sailboat flying the American flag.

“Chinese teachers’ houses had been looted; our girls who lived there and some of their friends had been stripped of all but their inner garment and searched for money, and Mr. Reimert had been shot and instantly killed,” Marion wrote.

Friends snuck people out of the city at night and many of them fled to the missionary school. International law allowed the school to protect women and children, but not men.

Food became scarce. Fires started in various areas of the city from the fighting. Soldiers occupied whatever homes they wanted and dug up the floors of homes looking for hidden valuables. Marion also wrote that Rev. Reimert had been shot trying to keep soldiers out of the school.

The school was only a temporary sanctuary, though. It soon became obvious that it would either burn or be raided, so the teachers, students, and refugees started to flee.

“So, we flung a few things in our trunks preparatory to leaving. But, mother, it was terrible to have people come and hang onto you and beg you to save their lives. In the same breath they begged us to stay and to go and take them,” Marion wrote.

She managed to escape from the city, but she realized in her haste to flee she had taken a lot of unnecessary items and left behind needed ones.

“You find you have parts of several dresses and no whole ones, no pencils or pins or any of the little things one needs, one washrag and towel which you have to keep washing every day, and all sorts of crazy things you don’t need and so few of those you do,” she wrote.

Things calmed down once again, school resumed, and things began to look normal. She said she tried to focus on the mundane and the classes she taught in biology, chemistry, bacteriology, and English.

In 1921, she made plans to return home by the fall. However, there were still intermittent troubles in her region of China. Soldiers entered a home of one of Marion’s day school pupils. The soldier started to carry off a table. “The mother objected too strenuously to suit them, so they put the table down and took the woman instead,” Marion wrote.

They were also stealing supplies from the school, but no one dared object.

In July, she sailed on the Empress of Asia to Vancouver, British Columbia. She arrived on August 9. It then took another week before she reached home.

Leaving China had been more treacherous than she expected, as the group encountered various groups of soldiers. She had also been robbed when a crook cut a hole in her suitcase and stole $90.

She had been home less than a month when she told her father’s congregation, “The country fairly seems to get into your blood. You hate to leave it. I have really been homesick for it since my return.”

written by James Rada, Jr.

A serial fiction story for your enjoyment

7: The Last Fight

Tim Ross wandered from window to window in the basement of the nurse’s building of the State Tuberculosis Hospital in Sabillasville. The foundation of the building was stone, but except for load-bearing walls, the inner walls in the basement were all frame construction. Most of them were empty, but some had been converted to storage.

Tim looked out the windows, expecting to see Dr. Vallingham or one of his personal orderlies/guards approaching the building. Tim had already been down here overnight, but no one had come into the basement, not even Frank Larkins, the orderly who had hidden him here.

It was probably better that way. If someone saw Frank coming into the basement, it would be suspicious. Tim was getting hungry, though. No one had brought him food, and he hadn’t found anything to eat down here, although he did find a half-filled pint bottle of moonshine. It slaked his thirst and calmed his nerves.

While he hadn’t seen anyone other than nurses approach the building, Tim thought he heard sirens at one point. He also saw more vehicles driving around than he had seen in his short time at the hospital.

“Tim.”

Tim jumped. He spun, holding a fireplace poker he had found in one of the storage rooms. He relaxed when he saw it was Frank.

“Give a guy some warning,” Tim said.

“I did. I said your name and stayed back from you,” Frank told him.

“You didn’t bring me breakfast by chance?”

Frank shook his head. “Sorry.” Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple. He tossed it to Tim. “You can eat that for now. I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Does that mean I have to stay down here?” He bit into the apple. It was sweet and crunchy.

“Not for too much longer, hopefully. Someone saw Vallingham drive away last night. I’m hoping that means he knew the game was up and won’t be coming back.”

“He deserves to be in prison.”

Frank shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll catch up with him eventually. I’m just happy he’s not around here interfering with the bootlegging.”

Frank and some of the other employees at the hospital ran a bootlegging operation from the powerhouse.

“And killing patients,” Tim added.

“That, too.” Frank chuckled to himself. “Boy was Dr. Cullen furious when I told him what was happening. His face turned deep red, and he stomped around the office. He called the police himself; I give him that. He’s a good man, and this hospital is important to him.”

“Surprised he let something like this happen then.”

“Well, there’s a lot going on here nowadays. We’ve got the regular TB patients, the children’s hospital, and the nursing school. One man can’t run it all.”

“I suppose not.”

Frank left and arranged for a nurse he trusted to bring Tim breakfast, so that he wouldn’t risk being seen coming into the building again. Tim ate the pancakes and sliced apples with cinnamon and then took a nap. He had been up all night worried Vallingham would find him.

Frank came back after lunch. “Things are in an uproar. They are still searching for Vallingham in the woods. We had to break down our still and store the pieces in different locations.”

“Do you think he’s in the woods?” Tim asked.

“I doubt it. Why would he stick around? They’re just being careful, and so are my people.”

“So, is it safe for me to leave?”

“I suppose you can. The police have been asking for you, anyway. I guess they want to talk to you about everything.”

“You didn’t tell them where I was?”

“I do my best to avoid the police. It’s a habit. I don’t want them recognizing me if they spot me at a still.”

Tim followed Frank back outside the nurse’s building. He looked at his watch and saw it was dinnertime. He went to the dining hall and ate while he listened to the surrounding conversations, as people speculated on why the police had been at the hospital all day.

After dinner, he walked through the connecting hallway to the administration building. The police were eager to talk to him. Tim sat through two hours of questions from Dr. Cullen and the Frederick County States Attorney. Tim explained everything that had happened to him, leaving out finding out about Frank and the moonshiners who operated in the powerhouse. By the time he finished, it was dark out.

He walked back to the shack and wondered if the police were still wandering the property trying to find Vallingham, or if they had moved their search away to other locations.

When he walked into the shack, it was dark. He turned on the light in his ward and saw Vallingham standing there with a pistol.

“What did you tell them?” Vallingham asked.

“Everything. At least everything concerning you.”

Vallingham grimaced. “You have ruined everything. I was trying to heal people.”

“So, if you killed some along the way, that’s all right?”

Tim wondered if he could turn off the lights again before Vallingham shot him.

Vallingham jabbed the pistol in his direction. “What would you know? You just stumbled into something that was beyond you. I tried to get my notes from my safe, but the police were all over the building.”

“They will catch you.”

“Doubtful. I have money saved. I can disappear and start my research again elsewhere. I had hoped to get what I had done so far.”

“You don’t think a new doctor studying tuberculosis might give you away? You want attention.”

Vallingham paused and thought for a moment. “I want…”

That’s when Tim turned the lights off and threw himself backwards into the entry area. He heard the shot fired and the impact when it hit the wall. He scrambled out the door on his hands and knees and then ran.

Tim meant to run for the administration building, although he wasn’t sure anyone was still there, but when he came down off the porch, he slipped and tumbled down a hill toward the woods. Then, he heard Vallingham coming after him and another shot fired. Tim took off for the cover of the woods.

The shots would undoubtedly bring the police if they were still around, but Tim couldn’t wait to see if they would show up before Vallingham shot him.

He ran into the trees, feeling like he now knew what Max Wenschof had felt like when he ran into the woods chased by a moonshiner. He slowed as he reached the woods because he didn’t want to trip on a root. He wasn’t thinking about going somewhere in particular, he just pushed further into the woods. He stumbled once but caught himself on a tree. After that, he moved slower and kept his hands out feeling for trees.

He heard Vallingham coming behind him, but he also heard the man yell when he tripped and fell.

After a few minutes, Tim saw a low light in the distance. He headed toward it, thinking it must be one of the hospital buildings. However, as Tim came into a clearing, he saw it was four moonshiners working by lantern light around a still.

They yelled when they saw Tim, but he didn’t stop. He shouted, “Revenuer coming.” Then he ran back into the woods.

Out of breath, Tim dropped behind a fallen tree and tried to find a place where he might hide.

He heard more shouts and gunshots. When the gunshots stopped, Tim heard voices speaking too low to be understood. He heard metal and wood hitting each other. After fifteen minutes, things fell silent.

Tim pushed himself and walked back toward the clearing. The lanterns that had cast the low light were gone. He tripped again, but this time, he hit the ground. As he pushed himself up, he felt something soft and realized it was clothing. He patted it. It was a body. He felt for a pulse. Whoever it was, was dead.

Tim pulled out his matchbook and lit a match. It cast a small circle of light. He held it toward where the head was. He saw Vallingham’s dead eyes looking back at him.

Tim shook the match out and sighed. Then, he slowly stood and made his way back the way he came, although he came out far from his shack.

Police were walking around with flashlights on. One of them shined a light on Tim. “Who are you?”

“Tim Ross. Dr. Vallingham, the man you’re looking for, is in there.” Tim waved toward the clearing. “He’s dead.”

“Dead? Did you kill him?”

“No, he ran into bootleggers. They shot at each other. He lost.”

By morning, police were swarming over the hospital grounds. In Dr. Cullen’s office, the doctor profusely apologized for what had happened.

“I’m alive, at least,” Tim told him.

“Yes, and like you, I mourn for those other patients who aren’t so lucky. There are doctors from the state right now pouring over hospital records, looking over all patients Dr. Vallingham supervised. Their families deserve to know the truth.”

Tim nodded. Dr. Cullen was right, but Tim had been thinking that he was alive while Dr. Vallingham was dead. This might have been Tim’s last fight, but at least he had won it.

The End

written by James Rada, Jr.

A serial fiction story for your enjoyment

6: Time To Leave

Tim Ross looked at the body Frank Larkins and the other orderly loaded into the truck bed. It was the same man. Paul Donofrio. He had spoken a few hours earlier about recovering from tuberculosis. He had praised some sort of secret treatment Dr. Vallingham, the assistant director of the Maryland Tuberculosis Hospital in Sabillasville, was giving him.

“That’s him,” Tim said.

“Him who?” Frank asked.

“The man who was getting the secret treatment I told you about.”

Frank turned to stare at the body. “Are you sure?” Tim nodded. “He was a good guy. I liked him, and he seemed to be getting better. I thought they might send him home.”

“Really?”

“I didn’t run any tests on him, but he was looking a lot better than he had been when he first came here last year. He had better color and was gaining weight.”

“Was he getting aspirin?” Tim had discovered that was virtually the only medicine that patients received at the hospital. The main therapy was rest and fresh air.

Frank shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

Paul Donofrio had been getting better and had seemed fine at breakfast. Now, he was suddenly dead. Even if the treatment hadn’t been working, Paul shouldn’t have died so quickly. It didn’t make sense.

“Are they going to autopsy the body?” Tim asked.

“No, we’re going to put the body in a coffin and send it out on the evening train.”

“Is that unusual?”

Frank shook his head. “No. People here die from TB.”

“Does he look like he did?”

“That’s what Dr. Vallingham wrote on the death certificate.”

That was a surprise. “Has he seen the body?” Tim asked.

“I don’t think so.”

Tim sighed and shook his head. “Something’s not right.”

Frank loaded the body and drove away to wherever he needed to go. Tim watched him leave. Then, he turned toward the administration building. He thought he could see Dr. Vallingham standing at the window of his second-floor office, but it could have been his imagination.

So, if Paul had been getting a secret treatment, where would he have been getting it? Dr. Vallingham wouldn’t have wanted to meet with him openly. At that moment, Tim remembered the beds on the second floor of the laboratory.

He headed back across the campus and up the hill to the two-story stone building. When he arrived, he found the door was still unlocked. This still surprised him, having come from Baltimore where people locked their doors out of necessity. Inside, he walked around the tables that were filled with test tubes, bottles, Bunsen burners, and the other things one would expect to see in a place where medicines were prepared. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Did he expect to find a bottle labeled “Secret Treatment”?

He walked upstairs to where the beds were. Here, he found a cabinet filled with vials. He picked one up and held it up. The fluid inside was light green. Was this the treatment? He slipped it into his pocket.

A small desk sat in one corner. He walked over and looked through the drawers to see if he could find anything useful, but they were empty. Then, he looked over at the three beds with straps that would restrain whoever lay on the bed. This had to be where Dr. Vallingham administered his treatments, but he didn’t see anything he could definitely point to as being sinister.

“You do not belong here, Mr. Ross.”

Tim spun around and saw Dr. Vallingham standing at the head of the stairs with his special orderlies. He wore his tweed suit and seemed out of place in the room.

“I’m a curious person.”

“You were told specifically that you were not allowed in this building. It is a reason for dismissal from the hospital, which is what I will do. It is time for you to leave the hospital. You are not a good fit here.”

“Who is a good fit, though, for your special treatment?”

“I told you that there is no special treatment,” Vallingham said.

“That’s not what Paul Donofrio thought.”

“He died from tuberculosis.”

“Did he? You signed the death certificate without examining him.” When the doctor said nothing, Tim said, “Maybe I should leave. I need to get in touch with his family and encourage them to have a doctor autopsy his body. I imagine if it turns out that Paul died from anything other than TB, the authorities will have questions.”

Vallingham took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am only trying to help people, Mr. Ross, and I have been making progress. If I have a few setbacks along the way, that is the cost of research.”

“Easy for you to say when you aren’t the one paying the cost.”

“I am. My reputation is on the line.”

“But not your life.”

“No, but perhaps yours.” Vallingham stepped back. “Strap him down. We’ll see how the next iteration of the serum works.”

The orderlies stepped forward. Tim backed off, looking for a weapon. He could grab the chair, but he could only hit one orderly before the others swarmed him. Then what would happen? Tim wasn’t sure he wanted Vallingham’s special treatment.

Tim grabbed the wooden chair and swung it back and forth, trying to ward off the orderlies. That was the best he could do. He didn’t have much of his strength anymore. One orderly grabbed the chair and yanked it out of Tim’s hands, tossing it off to the side. The other two closed in on Tim from different sides. Tim punched at them, but his jabs lacked power.

A group of half a dozen men rushed up the stairs with hoods over their heads. Two had bats and three of them had pistols.

“What is this?” Vallingham shouted.

“Let him go,” one hooded man said.

“This man is a patient of mine.”

One man swung his bat at Vallingham’s stomach. It hit him, and he doubled over, falling to the floor. The orderlies moved forward, but the armed men pointed their pistols at them.

“Let him go,” the hooded man repeated.

The orderlies released Tim. One of the men with bats grabbed Tim’s arm and pulled him away. They went down the stairs and out the door. They crowded into a truck Tim recognized.

“Which one of you is Frank?” Tim asked.

Frank took off his hood. He was driving.

“Thanks,” Tim said.

“I saw you heading back here. Then, I saw Vallingham head out with his goons on my way back from the station. I figured that couldn’t be good.”

“He’s using people to test his treatments.”

“Crap! That’s worse than I thought. I figured he was just doing some side work for money.”

Frank stopped the truck in front of the nurse’s building. He climbed out and took Tim’s arm.

“Come with me.” He turned to the other men. “They’ll be looking for the truck. Park it at the administration building and then disappear. Double the guards at the power house for now.”

The truck drove off.

“Bootleggers?” Tim asked.

Frank nodded. He took Tim into the building through the basement door. It was dark and smelled musty.

“We’re not supposed to be here, either, but every once in a while, a nurse and orderly will hit it off.” He nodded toward a bed in one corner. “You can stay here for now. They won’t look for you here.”

“What if one of the nurses reports me?”

“They won’t. They hate the way Vallingham treats them but stay quiet just in case.”

“For how long?”

“We can try to get you out on the train, but Vallingham will probably have the orderlies watching it. I think we should call the police. We’ll have to move the still somewhere off into the woods.”

“Wait, what if you turn Paul’s body over to the police? We can tell them what is happening, and they can have a doctor autopsy the body. It should show that Vallingham was lying about how Paul died. You might not even need to move the still.”

Frank rubbed his chin and then grinned. “I like how you think.”

written by James Rada, Jr.

A serial fiction story for your enjoyment

5: Miracle Cure

Tim Ross walked backed to the courtyard area of the Maryland Tuberculosis Sanatorium in Sabillasville. He hadn’t found the man he believed had been shot, but what he had found gave him pause. The laboratory seemed to hold more than just a laboratory where medicines could be formulated and blood and fluids tested. It appeared as if humans were sometimes restrained there. He had also discovered a still in the power house. Unlike the laboratory, which worried him, Tim thought he would enjoy knowing where he could go to get a drink, especially since the federal government had outlawed liquor.

He reached the yard area and walked to the dining room for breakfast. The room was filled with patients, most of them seemed to be eating oatmeal and fruit, but some had eggs on their plate.

Tim looked around for Max Wenschof. He wasn’t sure whether or not he expected to see the other patient. Max hadn’t been at dinner, and Tim suspected he might have been the man in white he believed had been shot last night. Frank Larkins, an intern at the hospital and one of the moonshiners operating a still in the power house, thought a rival moonshining gang could have shot the man accidentally.

Tim walked over to a table with two men at it and sat down. He introduced himself to the men, who seemed more interested in their own conversation than in Tim.

“I’m telling you, I feel great,” a middle-aged man with jet-black hair told his companion.

“It’s temporary. You’ll start feeling the TB effects again,” the other man said. He looked older, but it may have been the effects of the disease on him.

The first man shook his head. “It’s not. I’m really getting better. I’m on a special treatment.” He looked over at Tim nervously.

“What’s different about it?”

The first man shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know I was doing real bad. You know it. You saw me.” The second man nodded. “I’ve gained 10 pounds in the last two weeks. I can walk from the shack to here without running out of breath.”

“I have to say you look good, but when can the rest of us get some of what you’re getting?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the doctor wants to wait until I’m ready to leave here and go home.”

“You think you will… go home, I mean?”

“That’s what Dr. Vallingham says.”

“I’m happy for you, Paulie.”

“Thanks, but keep it under your hat. The doc doesn’t want word getting out until he has everything the way he wants it.”

“Sure, sure. Just put in a good word for me. I want to be next.”

Tim kept his head down and focused on his oatmeal. He listened with interest and didn’t want to stop the man from talking. He was hoping to hear clues of what the special treatment was. However, when he heard Dr. Vallingham’s name, he was immediately suspicious. He didn’t trust the assistant director, but he wondered how much of that feeling came because of the doctor’s attitude versus his ability.

He might have trusted the news of a new treatment if Dr. Cullen had been the doctor mentioned. He had a good reputation and was the reason Tim had chosen to come to this hospital when he had been diagnosed with TB.

He finished his breakfast and walked back to his shack. All the windows had been opened wide, although it was still cool out. He went inside and flopped down on his bed, pulling the covers over himself.

Frank came by a short time later, carrying a tray with medicine on it.

“What’s that?” Tim asked.

Frank’s eyebrows rose. “It’s medicine.”

“What type of medicine?”

Frank glanced around. “I’m not supposed to know, but I saw the nurse fill the cups once. It’s aspirin.”

His treatment was aspirin? “I don’t have a headache.”

“It’s not for a headache. It’s Dr. Vallingham’s standard treatment. He relies more on the fresh air to help clear the lungs than medicine.”

“I heard someone talking this morning about a special treatment that Dr. Vallingham has been giving him.”

Frank shrugged. “Not from me. The tablets I give all look the same.”

“Have you seen the patients who get his treatments?”

“I’m not sure who they are. He probably uses his goon squad.”

Tim sat up in his bed. “Goon squad?”

“The doc has three orderlies who work just for him. They don’t do anything unless Dr. Vallingham okays it. They’re big guys, but you usually don’t see them unless the doc has them running an errand.”

Tim took the aspirin and swallowed it. He felt thinking about everything that was going on at this hospital would wind up giving him a headache.

Later that afternoon, he walked over to the administration building and asked to see Dr. Vallingham. He had to wait a half an hour, but eventually, the nurse at the front desk showed him into the office.

The doctor was sitting behind his desk as he had been during the first interview.

“I don’t have much time, Mr. Ross. What can I do for you?” Dr. Vallingham said.

“Well, Doc…”

“Doctor,” Vallingham corrected.

“Doctor. I heard that you have a special treatment for some patients that seems to work. I was hoping I could get it, too. I want to get out of here and back to work, but I’ve got to get better.”

“And what makes you think I have a special treatment?”

“Someone was talking about it at breakfast. He was very excited about feeling better and gaining weight.”

“I’m not sure what your heard, but it couldn’t have been what you say. I have no special treatment for patients, and if I had one that worked, I assure you, I would have used it for everyone here. I want you to recover as fast as you can, Mr. Ross.”

Dr. Vallingham looked down at something on his desk, as if to dismiss Tim. Tim frowned, but he stood up and left the office. As he walked down the hall toward the stairs, he saw three orderlies come out of a room at the other end of the hall. They were each as large as Tim had been before he got sick.

Tim was forced to stand to the side of the hallway as they passed him without saying anything. They reminded Tim of boxers. He glanced at their hands and saw their knuckles were scarred. They were definitely men who fought, but they weren’t boxers, not with scarred knuckles. They also looked nothing like typical orderlies. Tim watched them knock on Dr. Vallingham’s door and then enter the office.

Back in his shack, he tried to read the newspaper. He had never been much of a reader, and honestly, the only news he wanted to hear was how he could get better. He didn’t want to wither up and die like a plum turning into a prune.

He went outside and tried to run around the road that ran around the yard for exercise, but he was out of breath before he had even completed a lap. As he stood bent over, trying to catch his breath, he saw Frank drive the truck up to one of the shacks.

Tim walked over. “What’s going on?”

Frank frowned and shook his head. “One of the patients died. I have to take him to undertaker in Thurmont, so they can get him ready to send home.”

“Who was it?”

“Paul Donofrio.”

Tim didn’t recognize the name, but then he didn’t know most people here.

“What happened to him?”

“The same thing that happens to most everyone here. The TB gets them.” Frank paused and looked at Tim. “Sorry.”

Tim shook his head. “I know what I’m up against. Believe me. It scares me more than any boxer I ever faced.”

Frank walked into the shack with another orderly. They came out a couple minutes later, carrying a body on a stretcher. Tim bowed his head. He hadn’t been lying when had said he was afraid that he wouldn’t recover from his TB. This might be his future.

As the two men slid the stretcher into the back of the truck, Tim looked up. He saw the dead man and was surprised that he recognized him.

It was the man who had been bragging about getting better at breakfast, and now he was dead just a few hours later. Even TB didn’t work that fast. Something else had happened to him.

Deb Abraham Spalding

Adam Trawick of Sabillasville jumped at the opportunity to move from the New Market Dynamic Automotive location, where he worked as an auto technician, to become the manager at the new Dynamic Automotive location on Creamery Way (formerly His Place) in Emmitsburg.

Trawick has been working on cars “since he could hold a wrench.” As a teenager, he built his first car behind his dad’s shed, so he had something to drive, a gray 1979 Mustang.

To gain auto repair experience, he worked at various auto shops in Frederick while in high school. Then, he attended Lincoln Tech to earn his certificate in auto repair. Today, he’s a master certified ASE technician with a Maryland State Inspection license. Transmissions, brakes, and more, Trawick prides himself on being a pretty good diagnostic technician. He said, “I like a problem. I like to see if I can fix it.”

Trawick is joined by Gwen Delauter, Jesse Johnson, Dennis Smith, and Brady McKenzie (student) to provide any, and all, general auto repair, to include anything from tire repairs to engine replacements and advanced diagnostics.

“The community is awesome. I’ve gotten to know the businesses and I’m a fan. The community and first responders are important, and we support them,” said Trawick.

There are five locations of Dynamic Automotive: New Market, Urbana, Libertytown, Emmitsburg, and Frederick.

Dynamic Automotive has earned Frederick Magazine “Best of Frederick” designations for several years.

Dynamic’s hours are 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., Monday through Friday. Customers can schedule service online at www.dynamicautomotive.net/emmitsburg/or by calling 301-447-2800. Night drop is available.

Pictured are Jesse Johnson, Gwen Delauter, and Adam Trawick of Dynamic Automotive in Emmitsburg.

PFC Clyde Jacob Smith

by E.A. EYLER

Photo Credit to Richard Starbird

When I was six months old, my uncle Jake moved in with us. We lived in a small house alongside Rt. 491 in an area called Lantz. At least it was Lantz until the1960s when the Lantz Post office closed, and our postmark became Sabillasville. The truth was we lived in neither. Just out in the country on a mountain saddle between the South Mountain and Catoctin ranges. My grandparents’ farm was a half mile back the road, where, on maybe 15 acres of tillable land, they raised a family of twelve children. Jake and my mom, Mildred, were born somewhere in the middle. And now, Jake had fallen out with his parents and left home.

Jake had knocked around after leaving school. He worked at Victor Cullen Sanitorium as a dishwasher and occasional projector operator, but, mostly, he had worked on the family farm and for his brother-in-law, Glenn (Junior) Willard, on his farm a mile back the road.

But, Jake was dissatisfied. He wanted to do something more with his life. He wanted to see the world and start a career. It was 1951 and there was a war in Korea. He wanted to join the Army. Trouble was, he was only 17. And, at 17, you needed your parents to sign off, and they refused. Likely, my grandmother put her foot down. She ran the roost. So, Jake moved in with my parents.

Jake was persistent, however, and after six months, tempers cooled, and his parents reluctantly agreed to sign.

He took basic training at Fort Meade and then shipped out to Germany. Unhappy with his assignment there, he requested a transfer to Korea and arrived there on July 14, 1952.

On August 7, 1952, he was assigned Fire Direction Liaison Operator with the 57th Artillery Battalion, Charlie “C” Battery. Finally, he requested to join a Forward Observe Team and was assigned to the 31st Infantry Regiment 3rd Battalion “K” Company as a Wire Corporal. His duties were to keep communications open via radio between his Forward Observation team and the gun battery.

Per a letter received by Jake’s parents from Colonel R.A. Risden, Major General Wayne Smith’s chief of Staff:

“On 17 October 1952, (during the battle of Triangle Hill in the Iron Triangle), friendly forces engaged in an extensive offensive action against a strategic enemy-held hill, were subjected to an intense enemy mortar and artillery barrage. Private Smith was with the Forward Observer Party relaying vital communications when the radio suddenly failed. Ignoring the fierce enemy fire, Private Smith left his position of relative safety, and, moving through the impact area, secured additional batteries so communications could be restored. Upon his return, Private Smith, noticing several wounded men in danger of falling over a cliff, rushed to their aid and helped in evacuating them. Again returning to his position, Private Smith, with complete disregard for his personal safety, answered a call for volunteers to help defend the friendly positions and moved in to the forward trenches (with Riflemen of the Infantry units), where he valiantly fought off numerically superior enemy forces until he was mortally wounded by enemy fire (an artillery shell landing close to his position).”

He received the Silver Star and the Purple Heart, posthumously. He was buried January, 8, 1953, in Germantown Bethel Church Cemetery.

 According to Lt. Richard Starbird and Sgt. Howard Nease, who served with him, “Smitty was a good soldier, well-liked by his buddies. He chewed Plow Boy brand tobacco and loved the Hershey Bars in his rations. Clyde was a strong man who was good at “Tapping the Box” (keeping the radio working). He loved being a soldier. He looked forward to mail from his family and a girl named, Jennie.”

Joan Bittner Fry

Recently, I was invited to a place less than five miles from my home in Sabillasville that I didn’t know existed. I found one of the most uplifting surprises. There, in plain view, was a sign that said Heroes Ridge at Raven Rock.

In the past, you may have known it as Raven Rock Lutheran Camp.  Heroes Ridge now provides a retreat for wounded, injured, and ill-combat Veterans, first responders, and their families. 

The reason for my visit was to take a picture of a few of the fellows from the Sons of American Legion of Post 239 in Cascade, who were presenting a check to Operation Second Chance’s Heroes Ridge. We were met by Cindy McGrew, CEO and Founder of Operation Second Chance (OSC), which began in 2004.

Cindy’s interest in Veterans began early in her life, but was fully realized as she supported seven injured soldiers and their families at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. As OSC helps heroes move on, Heroes Ridge provides rest, recreation, and tranquility for Veterans, first responders, and their families. Since May, 268 persons, including 6 firefighters from Sarasota, Florida, have stayed at the camp, as well as Veterans, families, and Gold Star Mothers (women entitled to display a gold star on a service flag as the mother, stepmother, adoptive mother, or foster mother of a United States Armed Forces member who died while engaged in action against an enemy recognized by the Secretary of Defense).

Heroes Ridge came to be through the generosity of Mrs. Nahrgang, widow of a Marine, who made the purchase of Heroes Ridge a reality in 2019. The family lived in Columbia, Maryland, with their only child, who passed away in a car accident before his 19th birthday. When Mrs. Nahrgang passed away in her nineties, she graciously left her estate to OSC. This was the foundation for building the Veteran retreat, a property that was originally a church camp and privately owned since 2007.

Mrs. Nahrgang felt a connection to Cindy McGrew after receiving a warm letter of thanks and a token of appreciation after the donation of some simple furniture. The power of kindness, appreciation, and support for our Veterans is how Heroes Ridge was created.

There are many ways for you to get involved: providing professional assistance, volunteering for an Eagle Scout project, mailing a check, joining the OSC mentoring leadership program, volunteering, or providing Immediate or Phase 2 needs. Contact info@operationsecondchance.org for further information.

Needless to say, the gift from Sons of American Legion to Heroes Ridge was graciously accepted and those who visited that day know it will be put to good use. 

Pictured are Cindy McGrew, founder and CEO of Heroes Ridge at Raven Rock, and members of Post 239 Cascade American Legion, Jim Bittner, Larry Sanders, and Butch Wilhide.

Raymond Sanders

by Deb Abraham Spalding and James Rada, Jr.

Photo by Richard L. Dougan, Jr.

When Raymond Sanders first came to Sabillasville, it was because his family was growing and they needed space to expand. They found a two-story home at the end of a dead-end road and set down roots.

“It’s a nice place to live”, Sanders said. “The dead end road was good for the children, and my wife’s father and stepmother lived nearby.”

His children started attend Sabillasville School when it was still in the building that is now Walkersville Christian Fellowship Church. At that time, local students up to grade six all fit into a four room school. For high school, the students were bussed down the mountain to Thurmont High.

“I didn’t worry about them going down to Thurmont,” Sanders said. “People were careful on the road, and there were no accidents.”

Sanders was born December 11, 1923, in Iron Springs, Pennsylvania. He is one of eight children to Lloyd and Ruth Gertrude Riley Sanders. His family moved to Fountaindale, Pennsylvania, when he was six. From there, they would eventually move to Charmain, Pennsylvania, and Highfield, Maryland.

Although his military service would take him far from Catoctin Mountain, all of his homes are no more than a 10-mile round trip.

“I’ve been working since the time I was twelve,” Sanders said.

His early work was with Mr. Leisinger on a huckster truck hauling and selling vegetables, but he has also been a fruit picker, worked at the pipe and nipple factory, Landis Machine, and Frick Company. His longest lasting job was as a heavy engineer equipment mechanic at Fort Ritchie. He worked there for 22 years, retiring in 1975 because off a back injury. He said, “They wouldn’t give me another job and I couldn’t work anymore because I couldn’t pull wrenches.”

Instead, he wound up retiring at age 52. He was also a member of the Maryland National Guard and was able to continue his service for five more years before he needed to retire from that as well. Together, his service in the National Guard and in the Army, Sanders served 33 years in the military.

Sanders is also a Veteran of World War II. He was never drafted. His son, Larry, explained. “He didn’t get called up for the draft while his friends and brothers were being called. His mom took him to Hagerstown to ask why and they couldn’t find his records. Turns out he was in the dead file – they would never have called him up.”

He enlisted in the Army on March 18, 1943, and trained with the 8th Armored Division. However, when he shipped out to Europe, he was sent as part of the green troops, being sent to replace the soldiers who were dying in the war. Once in Europe, though, he never saw combat. “I was close to being called up a couple of times, but it never happened,” said Sanders.

He mustered out after three years and returned home, which at the time, was in Highfield. About his service, he said, “It has done me a wonderful good.”

The following year, he “really met” Betty Jane Fox. He had first met her when she was 10 and he was 15, but that was just in passing because he was friends with the boys in her family. 

Sanders was in Waynesboro one time with Betty Jane’s uncle, when her uncle tried to convince Sanders to come to Frederick with him to a dance. Sanders wanted to go, but said he didn’t have a date. Betty Jane’s uncle then fixed her up with Sanders and the two hit it off. They were married on September 13, 1947.

Together, they raised seven children (Debbie, Rita, Becky, Larry, Mary, David, and Jim), and one grandson (Jeffrey). They also have 12 grandchildren, 16 great-grandchildren, 1 great-great grandchild, 2 step-grandchildren, 5 step-great-grandchildren, and 5 step-great-great-grandchildren.

“When we had family picnics, we would have 45 to 80 people show up,” Sanders said.

Raymond tells a humorous story about delivering a bowling ball to his grandson, Jeffrey, who was stationed in Germany while in the military. Jeffrey told Raymond that he could bowl a better game if he had his own bowling ball from home. Raymond hopped a military transport plane in Dover, Delaware, and flew to Jeffrey with the bowling ball. Raymond said, “Oh, he was surprised!”

Raymond has always enjoyed living in Sabillasville and says that he has pretty much anything he might need nearby. He attends church at St. Rita’s Catholic Church in Blue Ridge Summit. He belongs to the Cascade American Legion, Waynesboro VFW, and Knights of Columbus.

“I think we have the nicest people that any community could have up here,” expressed Sanders. “They make great neighbors.”

Betty Jane passed away in 2016, and while Sanders now lives alone, he still has plenty of family looking out for him and plenty of memories.

He clearly remembers, “I have a good family and I’ve had a good life!”

Raymond was honored at a recent Veteran’s event at the Cascade American Legion where he was a founding member. Following his military service in addition to Jeffrey, mentioned above, are three grandchildren who are also war Veterans. Raymond was the recipient of the Legionaires Award at the Veteran’s Day event at the Cascade American Legion

During the 39-year history of the John A. Cliber Memorial Scholarship, sponsored by the Northwestern Frederick Country Civic Association of Sabillasville, 56 awards have been awarded to Catoctin High School graduating students from the Sabillasville Elementary-feeder school.

Two 2021 graduates have each received a $1,000 award for their continuing education. Both recipients, Rachel Pastor and Zander Sharpe, are enrolled for the fall semester at Frederick Community College, pursuing their goals of obtaining degrees in business.

It is time to recognize that special teacher who has made an impact on your child’s life and on your school community. Each year, the Thurmont Lions Club honors the teachers of the Catoctin High School and the feeder schools (Thurmont Primary, Thurmont Elementary, Thurmont Middle, Lewistown Elementary, Emmitsburg, Sabillasville, and Mother Seton). Anyone can nominate a teacher—parents, students, fellow teachers, and administrators. 

All nomination forms are due to Lion Gayle DiSalvo no later than Sunday, April 18, 2021. They can be emailed to Rogadodi@aol.com or mailed to Lion Gayle DiSalvo, 142 E. Hammaker Street, Thurmont, MD  21788. Please include “2021 Teacher of the Year” on the subject line if emailing. Forms are available online at www.thurmontlionsclub.com or by contacting Lion Gayle DiSalvo at Rogadodi@aol.com.

The Thurmont Lions Club 2021 Teacher of the Year will be selected from the eight finalists by a committee of community leaders and will be announced at the Thurmont Lions Club’s Education Night meeting on May 12, 2021. If you have any questions, please contact Lion Gayle DiSalvo at Rogadodi@aol.com or 301-271-5355.

Scatter Come Together

by Priscilla Rall

The motto for the 190th Field Artillery Long Tom Battalion (FAB) refers to its cavalry history going back to the Civil War. It reflects the cavalry tactics for a hard fought battle. But instead of horses, the 190th FAB used modern artillery pieces. A member of battalion’s headquarters group was a farm boy from near Sabillasville. Walter Leon Harbaugh was born on December 29, 1916, on the small farm in the home of Murry and Minnie Brown Harbaugh. The local area is named for his family, Harbaugh Valley. Walter had a large family, one of five children, and there were many chores to do each day. The family butchered hogs and then smoked the meat. Walter remembered they used sassafras and hickory chips for the fire. For two straight days, they had to make sure the fire did not break out into flames or “blaze up.” They also had two cows to milk, and had to cut wood for the cookstove and heat. They would use a cross-cut saw and then drag the log with horses to the mill. By age eight, Walter was using horses to plow. Thankfully, Maude and Colonel were gentle giants. At first, Walter went to a one-room school on Quirock Road and then to the school in Sabillasville. By his early teens, the Great Depression was in full swing. He left school at age 15 to work in construction and help the family.

But, soon, war loomed over the world, and Walter was drafted in June 1941. He was to serve one year. But after six months, war came to the United States, and he was in for the duration.

Walter trained at Fort Sill and then for 13 weeks at Fort Shelby in Mississippi. Finally, he set sail on the Queen Elizabeth as it zig-zagged across the Atlantic to avoid German subs. In seven days, they landed in Glasgow and soon crossed the Irish Sea in old cattle boats. He continued his training in mechanics, as the company had 6x6s, weapons carriers, prime movers, and jeeps. His unit was part of the 1st Army V Corps and was, by its nature, extremely mobile so that it could support the troops wherever they happened to be. While in Scotland, he managed to visit Belfast, but because of the black-out, he “couldn’t even find a pub.”

Walter was chosen to complete commando training taught by British soldiers who had recently been in North Africa. He was impressed by the British soldiers and got along well with them. With their stiff upper lip, they didn’t let anything bother them. In training, they used live ammunition, and one lieutenant was accidently shot in the ankle, but it could have been worse! For one of their exercises, they were taken outside at night and given just a map and a flashlight and had to find their way back to the base. They regularly made 25-mile marches, but that didn’t bother this tough farm boy. Back with his unit, they practiced beach landings after waterproofing their vehicles. They’d go out at about at 2:00 a.m. with a stove pipe extending from the exhaust pipe to keep the water out. Another time, they were left in the moors, but were not told the 110th Airborne was also there trying to “ambush” them. At the end, if you had a chalk “X” on your back, the troopers had gotten to you!

Finally, it was D-Day. Walter and his battalion were in a staging area and soon loaded in boats to cross the choppy channel. The 190th FAB landed on D-plus 2 at Omaha Beach. By 9:00 a.m., Battery A was firing at the enemy. Harbaugh was with the Group Headquarters Battalion and was soon fighting through the hedgerow country. The 190th supported the 29th Division in Normandy until St. Lo. There, Walter went to a hillside and looked down on the devastated city; he could see only a few church steeples sticking out from the ruins. They then fought their way across France, assisting in the Falaise Pocket. Then they stopped just for a day to participate in the victory parade through Paris. Then, through Aachen, where they faced heavy enemy resistance. Later, at St. Vith, there were three men in one foxhole. A shell hit the foxhole dead-on and killed the man in the middle, but left the ones on each side unharmed. In November, they spent 25 days giving support to the units caught up in the hellish battle in the Hurtgen Forest. In Walter’s words, “your life wasn’t worth a plugged nickel.” After that, the 190th was called on to help out in the Battle of the Bulge. As the Army crossed into Germany, the 190th found themselves at the Remagan Bridge. By this time, Harbaugh had enough points for a 45-day furlough. Fortunately, while he was in the good old USA, the war ended.

After taking a little time off to decompress from the war, Walter went back to working construction. Some of you may know of the Rocky Ridge Brick plant. Well, he was the foreman for that huge job.

Walter met Molly Emma Gates at a dance, and they were married soon after. They had six children. Son Leon was in the Vietnam War, and son Lamont served in the National Guard—a family that certainly served our country well and faithfully.

Walter Harbaugh died on December 30, 2017, at the age of 101. The last time I saw him, less than a year before his passing, he refused to let me get a ladder, and he picked the apples he wanted to give me himself! Rest in Peace, dear friend.

Courtesy Photos of Walter Leon Harbaugh

Denny Black reported that he had a wonderful time joining Jack Harbaugh and his family on a tour of Harbaugh Valley on June 11, 2020. Jack is an eighth generation grandson of Jacob Harbaugh (Feb. 5, 1730 – Apr. 28, 1818) who helped settle Harbaugh Valley in the 1760s. 

For our area football fans, you will know that Jack was the head coach of Western Michigan University and Western Kentucky University, and is the father of coaches Jim and John Harbaugh.  During their tour of Harbaugh Valley, Denny took Jack and his family to visit the grave of their ancestor Jacob Harbaugh who is buried in the Jacob Harbaugh Family Cemetery located on the Royer Farm near Sabillasville.

Pictured from left to right are Jack Harbaugh (Jim’s son), Jim Harbaugh (Head Coach of Michigan and prior Head Coach of the San Diego Chargers and San Francisco 49ers), Denny Black, and Jack Harbaugh at the Jacob Harbaugh gravestone at the Jacob Harbaugh Family Cemetery in Sabillasville.

Pictured from left to right are Jim Harbaugh, Jack Harbaugh (Jim’s son), Jay Harbaugh (Jim’s son and Running Backs/Special Teams Coordinator for Michigan), and Denny Black. at the Jacob Harbaugh gravestone at the Jacob Harbaugh Family Cemetery in Sabillasville.

Joan Bittner Fry

The following article was taken in part from the 1992 Annual Report of Waynesboro Hospital. This story seems timely. It is about the role played by our local community’s beloved Dr. Harvey C. Bridgers, who had a private practice in Blue Ridge Summit, Pennsylvania. He was a doctor on the staff at the State Sanatorium Tuberculosis Hospital in Sabillasville (the first TB hospital in Maryland), as well as the Waynesboro Hospital. His battle against the Spanish Influenza was indeed valiant.

From: Part 2 Plus, a self-published book by Joan Bittner Fry of Sabillasville in 2009

Dr. Harvey C. Bridgers (1885-1965)

“The Autumn of the “Spanish Lady”

In 1918, buried behind the headlines of war, a mysterious flu virus quietly hopscotched across the world, growing to epidemic proportions then vanishing as quickly as it appeared—leaving millions dead. This virus killed more than 22 million people. This estimate includes half a million Americans—more than the total number of lives lost in World Wars I and II, Korea, and Vietnam combined. Despite the ever-mounting death rate during the course of the epidemic, health officials fought to keep publicity at a minimum to avoid panic.

The first documented cases in the United States came in March 1918 from Fort Riley, Kansas, where 522 soldiers were affected. The Army continued training two million men and shipping them across the North Atlantic to France, England, and then Spain, where eight million Spaniards died. It came to be known as the “Spanish Influenza.” Although many blamed Spain for hosting the virus, in truth, the first outbreaks in the United States occurred at about the same time as Spain’s. The disease was confined to the Army for several months until early September when the first civilian case was documented in Boston.

No town is immune to the ravages of the Spanish Influenza. Waynesboro and nearby communities are devastated, while a tenacious young doctor battles the virus. Out of the record numbers of dead rose the need for a community hospital.

“It Can’t Happen Here”

When Spanish Influenza struck Waynesboro at the end of October 1918, the community didn’t panic. They had already battled tuberculosis and scarlet fever. By the time the flu was in full swing in Pennsylvania, Dr. Kinter, who had been appointed by Dr. Benjamin Royer, Acting Commissioner of Health for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, found that Pennsylvania had been hit hard. A total of 5,000 people died in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia alone, with more than 500 bodies piled up awaiting burial in Philadelphia in just one day.

By the second week in October, Franklin County had reported 1,300 cases, with 60 cases reported the following week and a warning that the disease was spreading. By mid-October, The Record Herald reported that there were several local families in which every member was sick. The newspaper made a plea for volunteers to keep fires going at families’ homes where there were sick, and to help get food to quarantined victims. Emergency hospitals were hastily set up in the Waynesboro YMCA and on the second floor of the Firemen’s Hall, with patients filling every bed and cot available. From October 1 to 16, forty people died in Waynesboro, the highest number of deaths ever tabulated in this area for that length of time.

During the first part of November, The Record Herald made no further mention of the flu, the headlines busy now with news of the war. On November 20, the epidemic made news again in the headline “Influenza is Again Manifest in Local Life,” and 20 new cases were reported. Those who suspected they might have the flu were advised to call a physician; although, by this time, most doctors simply could not take on any new patients.

Dr. Harvey C. Bridgers, a physician in Blue Ridge Summit from 1917 to 1952, wrote the following account of his experiences with the epidemic:

“After I had been practicing about a year and a half, the great influenza epidemic of 1918 struck our community. It began in October, and during that winter, spread to an alarming degree. People died in numbers so appalling as to make it remembered as one of the most disastrous epidemics in the nation’s history.

In the influenza epidemic, each doctor had to proceed according to his own knowledge and experience. Many doctors used stimulants, especially whiskey, to bring their patients through the crisis of the disease. I did not use whiskey because I felt that such a temporary stimulant could not accomplish a prolonged improvement.

Usually, the influenza patient, upon examination, appeared to have some unknown virus, poison or toxemia. It occurred to me that if that poison could be diluted and taken rapidly enough from the body through the skin, kidneys, and bowels, the patient would have a good chance of recovery. 

Now that our modern antibiotics have come into use, my method will never be resorted to again; but for the record, I shall describe it here, especially because out of so many, only one of my influenza patients died during that epidemic in 1918.

To force the fluids out of the body to lower the fever is a process known as “antipyretics.” For this function, I had our pharmacist put up for me drugs in the proper doses, and I took large quantities of these around with me.

The reaction of one of my patients to my prescribed method of treatment was so extraordinary that, above all others, it will be hard to believe. A man I visited one afternoon had a temperature of 103 degrees. He was delirious. I prescribed the method of treatment stated above. When I saw him the following day, perspiration was dripping on the floor even under his bed. It had soaked through the bed linen and through the mattress.  However, the patient’s temperature had become normal, and he wanted something to eat.

People died so quickly and in such unprecedented numbers that, in some areas, fire houses were used as places for the dead, which were awaiting their turns for embalming and interment.”

Dr. Bridgers himself became infected after visiting a family where seven members were ill in bed—all in the same room. But there were still scores of patients to be treated, so the doctor accepted a local boy’s offer to drive his car for him to make more rounds. Dr. Bridgers wrote the following account of that day:

“As the day wore on, I became more ill and enfeebled. In the last house I visited, I remember only putting some capsules on the bureau in the bedroom. That loyal boy got me back to my office, where many patients were waiting for me. My wife saw that I was ill and telephoned to Dr. Victor Cullen at the Maryland State Sanatorium. He drove me from my office and took me upstairs to bed. There, propped on pillows, I wrote prescriptions and sent them downstairs until Mrs. Bridgers closed the door on any and all comers. When I heard Mrs. Bridgers telling a man that I was ill, I remember calling through the window, ‘tell Jesse Black to go home and go to bed—he has pneumonia!’  My own illness became complicated with pneumonia. It was some weeks before I could take up duties at my office again.”

          In December, when the last victims were finally recovered, the local people decided that another such disaster must not occur without the proper facilities to deal with it. The epidemic had ended the long-standing community debate over whether or not a hospital was needed in Waynesboro. After three grim and exhausting months of confronting the Spanish Lady, the opposition was won over. Four years from the flu’s outbreak, on October 2, 1922, Waynesboro Hospital first opened its doors to the community.

Joan Bittner Fry

The following rendition of the story of the Newey murders that occurred in Sabillasville on New Year’s Eve in 1830 is one that I don’t recall seeing before.  This account is detailed and sometimes gruesome. The location of the action is about a half mile from where I was born. The internet states a Newey cemetery is located in the Harbaugh Valley, just south of the Washington County line on Fort Ritchie Road in Frederick County.

In the late Virginia Kuhn Draper’s book, Dandelions, Mushrooms and Moss-Covered Stones, she tells of being fortunate enough to be taken to the Newey graves in the woods up on the mountain. Paul Wade and Thad Calimer raked the leaves off the fieldstones that marked the graves. They found more stones than the three or four that her mother-in-law, Ona Draper, had seen in 1959.

Later, she and her sister, Jeannette, with Thad Calimer as a guide, found the moss-covered stones marking the foundations of the Newey cabin and barn.

The Newey Family

John Newey, his wife Lydia Tressler Newey, their children, Ruth and Ann Newey, and an unborn child were murdered around midnight, between New Year’s Eve in the year 1830, and January 1st, 1831 in Frederick County, Maryland.  Also present were Lydia’s father, Jacob Tressler, who was visiting in the log home, and John Coombs, an indentured servant.  Lydia’s husband, John Newey, was having problems with a nephew, John Markley, who had been accused of taking property from his home in December 1825. John Markley was arrested and sent to prison for five years. John Markley threatened his uncle, saying that when he got out he would burn their home to the ground.  John Markley broke down their door with an axe around midnight the last day of 1830.  He killed everyone in the home then burned it to the ground.  John Markley was the first person in Frederick County, Maryland to be tried, convicted, and sentenced to death based on circumstantial evidence. He was sentenced to be hanged.

The story as written: In our frantic age, one can scarcely imagine a more sequestered spot than the site of the George Flautt home on the top of South Mountain. Except for the arrivals of the wagons and their boisterous drivers seeking food and rest or an organized hunt for the predatory fox or wildcat, the spot, practically surrounded by forests must then have been as quiet as the grave; however, on Wednesday night, December 31, 1830 a tragic event broke the silence, stirred the mountain community to its very foundations, and is, even now, 137 years later, heatedly discussed when mountain folk get together.

On land adjoining Buck Range, at a point about one quarter of a mile from the Flautt home in the depression between the top of the mountain and the entrance to Harbaugh Valley, John Newey had built a cabin for his family which consisted of himself, his pregnant wife, Lydia, two small children, his father-in-law, and an apprentice boy.  On the night of December 31, 1830 all were murdered and the cabin set on fire.

For very valid reasons, the finger of suspicion was immediately pointed to one John Markley as the perpetrator of this dastardly crime. Five years before, at the time of the marriage of John Newey and Lydia Tressler, Markley and a cousin were accused of stealing a wedding suit, a watch, and $250 from the bridegroom, their uncle. On testimony of the bride, both were found guilty and sentenced to terms in the penitentiary, Markley receiving the longer sentence.  Markley never forgave Mrs. Newey’s damaging testimony and vowed that when free, he intended to kill the whole family. When the cousin was released from custody he warned the Neweys that Markley intended to carry out his numerous threats.

Markley was released from the penitentiary on November 25, 1830 and soon appeared in the vicinity of the Newey home. After the murder, Markley was apprehended in Baltimore and during his examination there, these facts of the case emerged (as reported in the Frederick Herald January 22, 1831, as copied from the Baltimore Patriot).

“That Markley was thought to have an accomplice described as a stout, good looking fellow, fair complexion, sandy hair and whiskers, and about 5 feet, 10 or 11 inches high, and is supposed to have accompanied Markley to Baltimore after the murder. This man was later identified as Christian Frydinger and was tried and found innocent of any part in the Newey murder.  That when arrested, Markley had in his possession a pair of velvet pantaloons, identified by their singular appearance as having belonged to John Newey.

That Markley was seen the day before the murder and arson was committed within two miles of Newey’s dwelling, and made inquiry whether Newey still resided in the same place, threatening that he would destroy the whole family and then give himself up to be hung.  On the night after Markley and his companion stayed in Smithstown (Smithsburg), distant by six miles from Newey’s house.  They sat up all night and departed by daybreak the next morning.

After this testimony, Markley was remanded to jail to await a later trial in Frederick, Maryland.  Newspapers of that time from the Gettysburg Star to the Washington, DC Spectator gave wide coverage to the story of the murder on South Mountain, some claiming that Markley had made a full confession but which was completely untrue. Reporters, then as now, tried to color the news, condemn the prisoner before the trial began, and sway public opinion to their own wills. One reporter described Markley as a man of the most athletic and vigorous frame, and, quoting Shakespeare, painted him as “a fellow by the hand of nature marked, to do a deed of shame.” Another reporter described Markley’s features as indicating mildness and ignorance, rather than the diabolical passions.

The trial began in Frederick, Maryland on May 18, 1831 before Chief Justice Buchanan. Markley was arraigned on two indictments, one for the murder of John Newey and the other for the murder of Lydia Newey. James Dixon was the State’s Attorney and William Ross and Joseph Palmer were appointed to represent the defense which could not produce a single witness for Markey’s behalf.

George Flautt, Newey’s nearest neighbor, was the first witness for the state.  His testimony follows in part as reported in the Fredericktowne Herald May 21, 1831.

Witness:  In the morning I called up my boys early, a few hours before day – when my wife arose from bed she looked out the window and remarked that there was a great smoke over toward Newey’s – one of my boys ran down and returned with one of Mr. Newey’s horses and told us the house was all on fire and he saw no one about. I went down – the house was on fire. We had a good view of all the inside of the house and saw Newey lying on the floor with his feet towards the bed and his head towards the door – the hair was burned off his head and the skull and skin appeared quite white. And on the right side of his head there was a hole – it appeared to have been done with an axe. The skull was broken in – there were small cracks from the main wound like the cracks of an egg shell. I examined it particularly, as I expected I would have to testify on the subject.

Question:  Did you examine the skull clearly?

Witness:  I did not as the house was burning. I sent my son to collect the neighbors. I also blew a horn but it did not bring them together directly. By the time the neighbors came up, the head of Newey was entirely burnt to ashes.

Question:  Did you see Mrs. Newey while the house was burning?

Answer:  I did see her after the neighbors came up – she lay in the bed downstairs – her head was burned off – she was otherwise much burned – old Mr. Tressler was burnt up entirely – the infants were less burnt – the bound boy was nearly consumed. I saw the linens of Mrs. Newey’s which had three holes in it as if made by a knife. (The counsel for the prisoner objected to the validity of this testimony.) After some discussion among counsel the witness was permitted to proceed.

Witness:  I did examine the linen, the linen was bloody – I examined the stab wounds on the body, particularly one about the abdomen – the rent (hole) in the linen was crosswise and seemed to have been cut – we applied the linen to the body and the holes in the lines corresponded with the wound in the body.  Later, Mrs. Newey’s body was exhumed and this testimony was proved to be correct.

Question:  Was there any report in the neighborhood about Markley when you went to the Newey house?

Witness:  There was.  I heard that Mr. Newey was warned to be on his guard for his house to be burnt down.  When the witness testified that though the floor of the cabin was burning he could clearly see the bodies, this question was put to him:

Question:  Could it be possible if the floor was burning all around him that there was no smoke near the body to obscure it?

Witness:  The smoke was in the heavens – there was none about the body – when we burn trash, there is smoke enough in the clouds, but none about the flame.

George Flautt further testified that when he saw Newey’s body, the clothing had been removed.

The second witness was John Flautt, George’s son, who corroborated his father’s testimony.  Having reached the fire first, he said that it appeared to him that the house had been set on fire at both the top and the ground floors.  Jonas and John Manahan and Daniel Benchoff all gave similar testimony concerning the wounds on Mrs. Newey’s body.

The third witness, John King, a son of Mr. Newey’s sister, Sarah King, testified that at Markley’s first conviction he said he would have revenge.  John Williams was at the jail on the day of Markley’s former sentence and testified that the prisoner had said “The states attorney and the judges were no better than Newey and the witnesses or they would not have believed them” and swearing very hard to it: “If ever I get out I will have the satisfaction if I have to kill and burn up the whole of them.”

Another witness, John Black, who lived on the road leading from Emmitsburg to Waynesboro, stated that Markley had come to his place on the evening of December 21 seeking supper and lodging for the night.  He gave his name as John Markley and said he lived in the Middletown Valley and had taken sheep and hogs to Baltimore.  He wore a yellow ‘warmuss’ and left the next morning without paying his bill.  Black identified both Markley and his warmuss at the trial.

Barnard W. Wright of Smithstown (Smithsburg), Washington County, testified as follows:  The first Friday after Newey’s murder about sunset Markley came to my house, 7 miles from Newey’s. Another man was with him. Markley had a knapsack, roughly sewed and well filled with clothing.  He gave it to me to keep. They took supper and both seemed very hungry – told me they came from Huntington County, Pennsylvania. Newey’s murder was known.  After these men went to bed and myself also, I reflected that they might be the murderers. I became alarmed, got up, and set up all night – they arose before day.  Markley pulled out his purse containing perhaps seven or eight dollars in silver.  I noticed Markley’s purse particularly and thought it the very purse that I saw Mr. Newey have at my house about two weeks before.  When they left my house, they said they were going down the New Cut Road towards Frederick – spoke of stopping at Jacob’s Tavern on that road – has no doubt that this is the man at his (Wright’s) house.  Testimony proved that Markley proceeded to Baltimore and stopped at the tavern of one Joshua Kelly, paying in advance for a week’s board and lodging which amounted to $2.50 – gave his name as John Markley and opened in the bar a bundle of clothes from which he selected a blue coat which he took out with him to be scoured.  While at the tavern he read and discussed with other patrons the story of the Newey murder. 

The next day, Sunday, January 10, Markley was arrested and given a hearing before James Blair, magistrate, who held him for a jury trial.  Before this magistrate, he said that he had been born near Hagerstown, Maryland – that he had never been arrested before nor had he been in the penitentiary and that he had been in Chambersburg on the night of the murder.  However, he testified before Judge Shriver that he was in the neighborhood of Chambersburg on Monday previous to the murder, and at Westminster on Friday after the event.  When pressed as to his whereabouts on the night of the murder, he answered – If I must tell the truth, I was on a spree from the Tuesday previous to the murder until the Friday after and can’t tell where I was.

When he was then asked why many articles of clothing in his pack were too small for him, Markley could give no satisfactory answer.  The bundle of clothes which Markley carried with him to Smithsburg and to Baltimore proved to be his undoing.  Mr. King, son of Newey’s sister, Sarah, identified the pantaloons found in Markley’s pack as belonging to his uncle, John Newey, and said that on the day of his uncle’s wedding he had borrowed them to wear to the ceremony and that his mother, finding a tear in the side, had mended it with white thread, The stitches of which King identified.  Mr. Manahan also identified the pantaloons as having been the property of Newey.  Sally Manahan stated that the handkerchief found in the bundle and bearing a yellow patch had belonged in the Newey home where she had washed it during her service there.

A Mr. Nichols testified that two vests taken from the bundle had belonged to Newey and Mrs. Newey’s brother stated that another vest had belonged to the apprentice who was killed with the family.

From a mark on the handle, Mr. Oyster identified a razor in Markley’s possession, also a shaving box and razor strop.  He testified that while Newey was a stout man, he was not as large as Markley.

Other witnesses gave testimony similar to that given above, all detrimental to the prisoner after which the jury retired to return after a deliberation of half an hour with a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree.

After an impassioned castigation of Markley for his heinous act, Chief Justice Buchanan sentenced him to pay with his life for the murder of the Newey family – to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.

While waiting at the barracks in Frederick for execution, Markley admitted to his court-appointed confessor, the Rev. Mr. Shaeffer, the commission of every conceivable sin except that of murder.  On the scaffold on June 24, 1831 he was twice given the opportunity to admit his guilt but each time he protested that he did not know who killed the Newey family.  And so John Markley went to his death never admitting the murder.

Several members of the Flautt family have had the entire account of this murder and trial sent to them by Dr. Bowman.  A copy will also be filed with the Flautt papers in the Maryland Historical Society.

Out of compassion for the Newey Family and an intent to preserve local history, Dorothy Buhrman, owner of the old Newey property, designed and funded the marker shown above that marks the Newey burial site that is several miles away from the home site.

Joan Bittner Fry

This is interesting information published in 1878 as a Frederick County, Maryland, resource. It makes one realize just how much things have changed in more than 100 years.

Frederick County ranks with the largest Maryland counties, having an area of 642 square miles, and is bounded on the north by Pennsylvania, on the east by Carroll, south-easterly by Montgomery, south by the Potomac River and Virginia, and on the west by the Blue Ridge, or South Mountains, separating it from Washington County.

This is one of the richest and most beautiful counties in the state. The soil is mostly limestone, with some slate and considerable “red lands.” The surface is undulating, partly mountainous — the Catoctin Mountains dividing the county into two broad valleys that to the westward being known as the Middletown Valley, which is drained by the Catoctin River and its branches; and that east of the Catoctin range is the valley of the Monocacy. Both rivers flow southward into the Potomac.

emmitsburg

Emmitsburg is situated at the terminus of the railroad of that name, and 7 miles from Rocky Ridge on the W. M. R. R. The location is in a fertile and diversified country, the surroundings of which are rich in mountain and valley scenery. To the west, Jack’s Mountain and Carrick’s Knob may be seen towering hundreds of feet in the skies and then sloping in graceful lines to the productive and beautiful valley below. The magnificent scenery, purity of the atmosphere, good mountain water, cordiality and refinement of the people make it a great place of summer resort; it is also enriched by educational institutions of great merit and celebrity. St Joseph’s Academy, conducted by the Sisters of Charity, and Mount St. Mary’s College, an institution of high endowment and character, are both near the town. There are also two public schools for whites, one for colored, and a Catholic Parochial School. The land adjacent is composed of red sandstone, quartz, and limestone; varies in price from $20 to $60 per acre, according to location and improvements; yields 15 to 30 bushel wheat, 20 to 40 oats, 50 to 150 potatoes, 20 to 50 corn; and 2 tons hay. Massasoit Tribe 41, I. O. R. M.; Junior Building Association. Population 900. Samuel N. McNair, Postmaster.

Pastors: M. E., Rev. H.P. West; Presbyterian, Rev. Lutheran, Rev. E. S. Johnston; Reformed, Rev. A. R. Kramer; Roman Catholic, Rev. Father Daniel McCarthy.

Town Officers: Burgess – John Hopp. Commissioners – Wm. Lansinger, J. H. T. Webb, Daniel Sheets, Isaac Hyder, Thomas Fraley and R. H. Gelwicks. Bailiff – Wm. Ashbaugh.

Agent R. R. and Express: Zimmerman, E R.

Barber: Parker, S A.

Basket Maker: Ellower, John.

Bakers and Confectioners: Hoke, Peter, Seabrook, J A, Tawney, JAS.

Blacksmiths: Adams & Zeck.

Brick Makers: Bell & Keilholtz.

Brick Masons: Lingg & Myers, Seabrook, Samuel.

Boot and Shoemakers: Bishop, George, Gelwicks, Theopholis, Hopp, J. F., Hoover, John, Lantzer, Jacob, Rowe, Jas. A.

Broker: Horner, WG.

Cabinetmakers: Bushman, Thomas, Sweeney, Martin.

Carpenters and Builders: Snouffer, Joseph, Tyson & Lansinger.

Carriage and Wagonmakers: Baker, L A F, Baker, Nicholas, Harley, Wm, Hess & Weaver, Houck, Wm H.

Cigars and Tobacco: McNair, SN, Scheek, Francis.

Clothing, Hats, & C: Rowe, J & CF.

Constable: Gillelan, Geo L.

Dentists: Bussey, JT.

Druggists: Eichelberger, CD, Elder, James A.

General Merchandise: Annan, IS & Bro, Bussey, Mrs. JP, Helman, JA, Rowe, GW & Sons.

Groceries and Produce: Hays, JT, Hoke, Peter, Waddle, JS, Zeck, Dietrick.

Hotels: Emmett, CS Smith.

Western Md: DG Adelsberger.

Justices of the Peace: Adelsberger, MC, Knauff, James, Stokes, Henry.

Livery and Sale Stables: Guthrie & Beam.

Lumber, Coal: Motter, Maxell & Co.

Marble Worker: Lough, N A.

Machinists: Praley, Thos & Son, Rowe, Nathaniel.

Millinery and Fancy Goods: Hoke, JL, Offutt, Miss H, Winter, Miss SA.

Millers: Bell, John M, Grimes, Charles, Hovise, Francis, Maxwell, Samuel, Motter, L M, Myers, Jacob, Sell, Peter, Septer, James.

Photographers: Rowe, J & CF.

Physicians: Annan, Andrew, Annan, RL, Brawner, John B, Eichelberger, CD, Eichelberger, James W, Eichelberger, James W Jr.

Restaurant: Lawrence, Daniel.

Saddles and Harness: McGuigan, James S, Stokes, Henry.

Stoves and Tinware: Adelsberger, Jas F, Hays, JT.

Tailors: Favorite, H J, Webb, J H T

Tanner: Motter, Lewis M

Watches and Jewelry: Eyster, G T & Bro.

foxville

Foxville is situated near the Washington County Line, 4 miles from Smithsburg on the W. M. R. R. Land ordinary, one-half cleared; sells at from $10 to $30 per acre, produces 14 bushel wheat, and 40 corn. M. E. and Lutheran Churches. Two public schools Population 250. Harvey Buhrman, Postmaster.

Attorney at Law: Harbaugh, John C.

Blacksmiths: Krise, E, Weller, Jacob.

Carpenters: Wolf, Henry, Wolf, Upton.

Constable: Hayes, H Clay.

General Merchandise: Brown, H , Fox, Thomas C, Ridenoner, Jacob.

Justice of the Peace: Fox, George H.

Physician: Buhrman, Harvey.

Shoemakers: Prior, Emanuel, Renner, Elias.

Timber Merchants: Brown, WB, Bussard, Samuel, Fox, George L. Moser, Ezra, Wyant, Yost.

lewistown

Lewistown is situated on the Emmittsburg Road, 10 miles from Frederick and 5 from Harmony Grove. Land, red clay, and limestone sells at from $10 to $100 per acre; produces 12 to 30 bushel wheat, 50 corn, 40 oats, 100 potatoes and 2 tons hay. Crops are generally good. M.P. Church and two public schools. Population 175. A.N. Cramer, Postmaster.

Blacksmiths: Layman, Jacob, Weller, J P.

General Merchandise: Cramer, AN, Zimmerman, GT.

Justice of the Peace: Cator, Henry.

Physician: Leatherman, ME.

Boots & Shoes: Bishop, Jacob, Shaeffer, Jno FD.

Hotel: Clemm, Geo. H.

Millers: Gonso, George, Leatherman, Daniel, Taylor, CW.

Saddles & Harness: Maine, HM.

mechanicstown

Mechanicstown (now Thurmont) is on the W.M.R.R., 56 miles from Baltimore, 15 by pike from Frederick and 27 by rail, and three-fourths of a mile from the Catoctin Mountains. The nearest streams are the Hunting and Owing’s Creeks; it is located in a pleasing and thriving country. The climate and health are good, business fair. Soil is of red shale, yellow slate, alluvial, and some limestone. The land is principally cleared, ranges in prices from $30 to $60 per acre, and yields 8 to 20 bushel wheat, 10 to 40 oats, 80 to 50 corn and 1 to 2 tons hay. The Catoctin Furnace is within 2 miles and in operation. The timber now remaining consists of oak, hickory, walnut, chestnut, poplar and beech. Population 700. John Root, Postmaster.

Agent-R. R. & Express: Horn, WA.

Barber: Lucas, Amos.

Blacksmiths and Wheelwrights: Firer, Benj F, Hess, Wm, Horn, Wm Loy, Wm, Webb, Wm.

Bricklayers: Eigenbrode, Dan’l, Moser, Cyrus.

Brick Manufacturer: Fleagle, John A.

Butcher: Damuth, Wm.

Carpenters & Undertakers: Creager, James, Dorsey, Geo B, Shaw, Thomas, Smith, E M, Weddle, Joseph A, Weller & Creager, Weller, Simon A.

Cigar Manufacturers: Orndorff, AF, Whitmore, KS.

Confectionery: Martin, JE, Constables, Peddicord, Caleb, Renner, John A.

Dentist: Radcliffe, Dr. HG.

Druggists: Gilds & Co.

Flour, Feed & Fertilizers: Cassell, Chas E, Stocksdale, Geo W, Witherow, SH.

General Merchandise: Gilds, NE, Johnson, Geo H, Root & Groff.

Harnessmakers: Freese, Joseph, Martin, DC.

Hotels: Central, Jacob Sprow, Gilbert, John B Gilbert.

Huckster: Damuth.C A

Justice of the Peace: White, Frederick.

Marbleworker: Hammaker, BF.

Millers: Jones, John, Martin, J & DC.

Milliners & Dressmakers: Gernand, Miss Jennie, Hesson, Miss Kate, Lony, Miss Mary, Stokes, Miss Susan.

Millwrights: Biggs & Carmack.

Painters: Adelsberger, Jas, Mackley Bros.

Photographer: Boblitz, BL.

Physicians: Marsh, Wm H, White, Wm, Zimmerman, AK.

Shoemakers: Cover, BN, Cover, JH, Picking, Leonard, Stull Bros.

Stock Dealers: Anders, Thomas, Barton, Isaac N

Stoves and Tinware: Osler, VP.

Surveyors: Landers, John, Picking, Leonard.

Tailor: Sleek, AB.

Tanner: Rouner, John.

Telegraph Operator: Horn, WA.

Wagonmaker: Stokes, Joshua.

Watches & Jewelry: Hoff, David T.

rocky ridge

Rocky Ridge is on the W. M. R. R., at the junction of the Emmittsburg Road, 51 miles from Baltimore and 7 from Emmittsburg and 16 from Frederick City. The soil is red slate and is valued at from $20 to $50 per acre; produces 8 to 25 bushel wheat, 15 to 30 oats, 80 to 40 corn and 2 tons hay. Lutheran, Reformed and Baptist Churches and public school. Population 60. H. D. Fuss, Postmaster.

Agent Express & R.R.: Eichelberger, MJ.

Blacksmith & Wheelwrights: Appold, George, Campbell, JE, Wood, Basil.

Carpenter & Builder: Engler, OA.

Commission Merchants: Biggs & Eichelberger.

General Merchandise: Fuss, HD, Lickle Bros.

Hotel: Ecker, Hanson.

Justice of the Peace: Norris, AL.

Millers: Biggs, Joshua, Martin, Jeremiah.

Shoemaker: Troxell, Frederick.

sabillasville

Sabillasville is on the W. M. R. R., 66 miles from Baltimore. Land is mostly cleared, can be purchased at from $15 to $40 per acre, and produces 12 to 25 bushel wheat, 20 to 50 oats, 100 to 200 potatoes, 20 to 40 corn, and 1 to 2 tons hay. German Reformed Church, Rev. H. Wissler; United Brethren, Rev. Mr. Freed; and a public school. Population 50. H. S. Duphorne, Postmaster.

Blacksmiths and Wheelwrights:  Arnsparger, Dallas, Freshour, Nelson.

Broom Manufacturer: Stein, Henry.

Carpenter: Willard, Joel.

Constable: Stotelinger, JC.

Dressmaker: Homerick, Susan, Manahan, Jane.

General Merchandise: Crawford & Bro, Hiteshew, Charles.

Hotel: Stern (Stem), John.

Justice of the Peace: Luckett, WF.

Miller: Kenna, Simpson.

Physicians: Luckett, WF Watson, J.G.

Shoemaker: Duphorne, RS.

From 2009 to 2013, Joan Bittner Fry of Sabillasville composed three books of local interest. From The State Sanatorium at Sabillasville from 1908 in 2009 to Part 2 Plus in 2010 to Did You Know? in 2013, in which a wealth of information about local communities is collected. 

By gleaning photos from an extensive postcard collection, relaying stories from family and friends, and living in the area all her life, Fry offers extensive familiarity of her subjects.  

The first self-published book was dedicated to the late Clara Schumacher (1922-2019) of Thurmont, who was a patient at the sanatorium and who later became a nurse there. Clara was generous with her information and gave first-hand knowledge of The State Sanatorium, the first tuberculosis hospital in Maryland.

The second book was dedicated to the late elementary school teacher and dear friend, Naomi Waynant (1911-2012) of Sabillasville. This book continues with more information about the sanatorium and includes informational stories about local schools, businesses, churches, boarding houses and hotels, and famous and not-so-famous people and places.

The third book was dedicated to the memory of family member Bill Messner (1944-2003), a very special cousin. It contains information about historical places; i.e., Sharpsburg, Antietam, Mason-Dixon Line, C & O Canal, Camp/Fort Ritchie, The National Road (Route 40), and Western Maryland Railroad, as well as many other local places of interest.

A limited number of copies is again available for purchase. The cost is $20 each or $50 for the series of three. Copies are available from the author at jofry241@yahoo.com; E Plus Graphics and Promotions in the lobby of Jubilee Foods in Emmitsburg, where the books are being printed; or the Fort Ritchie Community Center in Cascade. 

Although Edward Bowman Coleman was born in Port Republic, Virginia, in 1924, he has lived most of his life in the Blue Ridge Summit and Sabillasville areas.

In the early 1920s, his father rented a farm in Virginia, earning $1.00 a month, two hogs, and a house to live in. Later, the family moved north and rented farms that the banks had foreclosed on during the hard times of the Great Depression. When the farm was sold, the Colemans moved on to another foreclosed farm. Once the Colemans lived next to the Browns, the mothers would do their Monday laundry together because Edward’s mother had a gas-powered washer! Edward did not notice at the time the Bowman’s 13-year-old daughter….but he would later!

Edward’s father worked at the Crown, Cork and Seal Co. until he broke his leg, resulting in one leg being shorter than the other. His father then moved to Baltimore to work at the Martin Marietta Plant and would return home to Sabillasville on the weekends. Edward attended the brick school at Sabillasville through seventh grade, and then went on to Thurmont High School, where he graduated in 1942.

Edward followed his father to Baltimore to work at Martin Marietta as well, but with war engulfing the entire world, the U.S. Army drafted Edward in February 1943. After training, he was assigned to Company A, 149th Infantry, 38th Division, nick-named the Cyclone Division. In January 1944, the division shipped out as part of a large convoy that traveled through the Panama Canal on its way to Hawaii. The wrecks of the ships the Japanese sunk on December 7, 1941, were still visible, and his company patrolled the beaches until they were sent to New Guinea for “mopping up” operations. Luckily, they did not encounter any enemy troops, but Edward did notice that the native women did not wear bras!

Then they traveled to the Philippine Island of Leyte, where the American troops first invaded the island nation. Ironically, Leyte is where a Japanese sniper severely injured Graceham native, Sterling Seiss. Before Edward arrived, they encountered a bizarre quirk of nature: a fine white powder that reduced visibility to zero suddenly engulfed their ship. Without warning, their ship beached on a coral outcropping just beneath the sea with no land in sight! Unable to get the ship off the coral, the troops boarded other smaller landing crafts. They eventually discovered a volcanic eruption miles away that caused the white cloud.

Once again, Edward’s company performed “mopping up” operations. The enemy had abandoned a strategic landing strip, and Edward’s company was there to protect it. Edward and a comrade dug a foxhole and two slit trenches to rest in while another soldier kept guard. They switched jobs every two hours. Edward had just finished his duty and was trying to get a little rest when a grenade exploded right in front of his buddy, killing him instantly. In the battle that followed, Japanese paratroopers attempted to regain the airstrips. They failed, but the Japanese killed 18 men in Edward’s company.

With Leyte finally secure, the 149th was loaded up and sent to Subic Bay in Luzon. Manila had finally fallen, and 100,000 Filipinos died in the horrific fighting there. Gen. Douglas MacArthur then declared the Philippines secure, neglecting to mention the thousands of enemy troops still in the mountainous north. Once more, Edward’s regiment was sent to “mop up” northern Luzon. They were still fighting when the Japanese surrendered after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Because of their battles on the Bataan peninsula, they are called the Avengers of Bataan.

After spending nearly two years abroad, Coleman was finally discharged in November 1945, having earned the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, the Good Conduct Medal, and the Philippine Liberation Ribbon with one Bronze Star. He returned home to meet his youngest sibling, a sister, born when he was in the Pacific.

Jobs were hard to come by after the War, and Edward worked at Fairchild in Hagerstown and at Martin Marietta. Then, using the GI Bill, he attended an aeronautic mechanic’s school. Martin Marietta rehired him, and he spent the rest of his career with the company, even moving to Orlando, Florida, in order to keep his job.

In 1949, he married the now-grown-up Doris Brown, whom he had met so long ago. They had three daughters: Denise, Donna, and Darlene.

When Edward’s father died, Edward bought his house in Sabillasville, where he now spends the summer enjoying the peace of the Catoctin Mountains. However, when the cool winds begin to blow, the family returns to their home in Orlando. In good health, Edward enjoys the mountains and still gardens with the help of his nephew. He revels in the love of his family that now includes four grandchildren.

If you are a Veteran or know a Veteran who is willing to tell his or her story, contact the Frederick County Veterans History Project at priscillarall@gmail.com.

The Catoctin Banner is distributed via direct mail to approximately 8,500 households in Emmitsburg, Thurmont, Sabillasville, Cascade, Lewistown, and Rocky Ridge, Maryland. It is placed for free pick-up in surrounding towns in high-traffic areas. Those towns include Woodsboro, Taneytown, Detour, and Smithsburg in Maryland and Blue Ridge Summit, Waynesboro, and Fairfield in Pennsylvania.

St. Mark’s Lutheran Church, Sabillasville

by Theresa Dardanell

“Small but mighty” was the way that the parishioners described St. Mark’s Lutheran Church in Sabillasville, when I met with them after a recent Sunday service.

Their Facebook page gives this description: “We are a small church. But, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Small churches can provide a level of intimacy of family that might be missing in a larger setting. That is, by far, what we do best at St. Mark’s. We are diverse, and yet, close as sister and brother.” 

Interim Pastor Ray Shriver said that the warm and caring members are very open and welcoming to new people.

Their small congregation is very involved with community outreach. They provide financial support to the HELP Hotline, an organization which serves people in Sabillasville, Cascade, Blue Ridge Summit, and the surrounding areas, with a food and clothing bank, as well as limited financial assistance with electric, heat and rent bills. They provide financial assistance to the Community of St. Dysmas, a Lutheran congregation in the Maryland Correctional System; they also visit the prisoners and participate in the after-care program for released prisoners. Monetary donations are provided to the Emmitsburg Council of Churches to benefit medical mission trips to Kenya.   

Young people of the parish participate in service to the community and have fun at the same time. The Mountain Top Youth Group is sponsored by St. Mark’s Lutheran Church, St. John’s United Church of Christ in Sabillasville, and Living Word Ministries in Blue Ridge Summit. The young people cook food for shelter residents, help with outdoor and indoor chores for elderly neighbors, and donate Christmas gifts to the HELP Hotline. They enjoy camping trips, paint events, parties, and an annual “lock in,” where they can stay up all night (with the help of adult chaperones) doing crafts, playing games, watching movies, and just hanging out with friends. Children are not the only ones who enjoy activities at the church. On the third Thursday of every month, retirees are invited for food, fellowship, and Bingo during the Senior Lunch.

Fundraising events support the church and the community outreach projects. The popular Strawberry Festival and yard sale held in May each year features soups, sandwiches, and baked goods, and, of course, strawberry pies and shortcake. The members keep very busy baking at other times during the year. Look for their bake tables at the Sabillasville Elementary School MountainFest in October and at the Ft. Ritchie Community Center Holiday Bazaar in December. 

St. Mark’s history began with services held in the home of Levi Lichtenberger in 1892. The church was built the following year; many of the original parishioners helped to build the church. The membership eventually grew to 100 active members, but gradually declined. The current membership is between 20 and 30, and their numbers include lifelong members and young families with children.

Sunday morning worship services are held at 9:15 a.m. The regular Sunday services, with traditional hymns and organ accompaniment, are held in the church. 

Once a month, Muffins with Ministers, a more informal service, is held in the social hall; it begins with a delicious breakfast of casseroles, fruit, pastries, and beverages, and continues with contemporary music, the scripture readings, prayers, and the Gospel.  

St. Mark’s Lutheran Church is located at 17015 Sabillasville Road in Sabillasville. 

Visit their website at www.stmarkssabillasville.org for directions to the church and for contact information.

To see lots of photos and get information about previous and upcoming events, please visit the Facebook pages @stmarkssabillasville and @mountaintopyouthgroup.

Members of St. Mark’s Lutheran Church, along with Interim Pastor Ray Shriver (front row on left) and visiting Pastor Carl Fulmor (front row on right).

Tristan Rice, of Sabillasville, is a sixteen-year-old junior at Catoctin High School and an HVACR/Plumbing student at the Frederick County Career and Technology Center. This busy student is also a dedicated athlete who throws the shot put during the school year for the Track and Field Team at Catoctin, and works out several times a week at Anytime Fitness in Thurmont, honing his powerlifting skills and increasing his strength.

Tristan recently set two national powerlifting records and an unofficial world record. His national records include a 502.6 lb. squat and a 510.4 lb. deadlift recorded in the USPA 16-17 Year Old 275 LB Weight Class and his world record was in the IPL 15-19 Year Old 275 LB Weight Class. The Records were set August 18, 2018, at CrossFit Frederick during the Maryland Drug Tested State Championship meet.

Tristan is traveling to Las Vegas for the IPF Drug Tested World Championship where he will officially compete for two world records in the squat and deadlift.

Tristan explained that, “Powerlifting is something that I’ve done in football and shot put and I decided to pursue this summer while working as a full-time plumber.”

“After seeing what the records were, I decided to start powerlifting and see what limits I could push myself to. I work very hard in this and want to go to the world championship and do my very best.”

Tristan’s parents, Penny and Russell Rice are very proud of him. They indicated that this is something Tristan has done on his own and he is very passionate about it. “It was great watching him train for this and watching his numbers climb week by week,” Penny said, “Sometimes he’d go to the gym at 11 o’clock at night just to get his workout in.”