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The Sentinel

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Take a train ride on the Ol' Hook & Eye

By Jane Cannon Mort

MEXICO - Members of the Juniata County Historical Society took an imaginary ride on the Ol' Hook & Eye - the Kishacoquillas Valley Railroad - during their annual meeting at the Walker Grange hall on Wednesday.

Dressed for the part - in striped overalls and red neckerchief -Jerry Hartzler recounted the history of the railroad and read excerpts from his book, "The Ol' Hook & Eye," informing and amusing the crowd.

The railroad linking Belleville and Reedsville in Mifflin County was the dream of Dr. John P. Getter, a prominent Belleville physician who was bitten by the railroad bug while vacationing in the 1890s with his wife in Cape May, N.J. They took a ride on the narrow-gauge Delaware Bay & Cape May Railroad to see an attraction called "Jumbo," which w as a structure resembling a large white elephant that housed a bazaar.

The three-mile (4.8 kilometers) trip on the railroad intrigued Getter more than Jumbo, and he began thinking about the possibility of building a similar kind of railroad between Reedsville and Belleville.

Getter rallied a number of his friends and other prominent like-minded businessmen, who pooled $22,000 and got a charter to form the Kishacoquillas Valley Railroad.

"Then the hard work began," Hartzler said. The initial investors formed a board and they had to sell $100,000 worth of stock (about $10,000 per mile for the nine-plus miles (14.5 kilometers) between the two towns) to the people of Belleville and the farmers in the valley.

Meeting with some skepticism, the board added a "Doubting Thomas" clause to their stock - stating that the subscriber did not have to pay until the railroad was running.

Hartzler said $65,000 was raised, enough for a narrow-gauge railroad, like the one in nearby East Broad Top.

In June 1892, the directors consulted with F.F. Whittekin, a civil engineer, but he refused to build a narrow-gauge railroad. Hartzler said Whittekin told the board "you would curse me all the days of my life" if he built a narrow-gauge. Whittekin told them he could build a standard-gauge railroad for just $10,000 more.

The directors realized that if they built a standard-gauge railroad, there was the possibility that it could eventually connect with the Pennsylvania Railroad, which already operated a line from Lewistown through Reedsville and on to Milroy.

So they tried to raise the extra money, but could only come up with an additional $5,000. "Whittekin told them that the road could be built for that amount, but that it would be mighty crooked," Hartzler said, with a laugh.

True to his word, six of the 9.2 miles (9.7 kilometers) were straight, but the remaining three miles (4.8 kilometers) contained 26 curves.

Construction began on the railroad in October 1892. The contractor was Edgar A. Tennis of Thompsontown.

Not everyone favored the construction of the railroad, Hartzler pointed out, and some opponents refused to call it by its legal name, instead using nicknames like "the old Hook & Eye, the Lofty Vanderbilt, the Hair Line, or everyone's favorite, the insulting GO&P."

The "Old Hook & Eye" actually referred to the engineman, John Ross, who, Hartzler explained, always wore a pair of hooks and eyes on his overalls, similar to those worn by the Amish who lived in the valley.

The railroad was finished in 1893, and passenger service began. The railroad followed Kishacoquillas Creek, hugging Jack's Mountain, and had three bridges, Hartzler noted.

Three trains ran each day, stopping at stations with names like Union Mills, Gibboney, Kishacoquillas, Taylor, Hooley and, finally, Reedsville.

"And what do you do after you complete a railroad," Hartzler asked. "You have a party."

The KVRR found an ideal picnic site at the foot of Jack's Mountain on the property of William Gibboney, one of the railroad's founders.

The first KV Picnic at Gibboney Park was held Aug. 30, 1893, with some 1,500-2,000 attending.

The event grew to include a speaker's stand, dancing and dining pavilions, bandstand, concessions, amusements and a merry-go-round. Crowds grew to 4,000-6,000 and the highest recorded attendance, Hartzler said, was 10,000 people.

"It was really known as the social event of the era," Hartzler said.

The picnics at Gibboney Park also inspired some antics and this account by a reporter for the "Free Press," read by Hartzler:

"On our return from the picnic at Gibboney Park Thursday last, we were granted the privilege by the president of the KVRR, eng. Ross and fireman Staley concurring, to straddle the iron steed and go whizzing down the valley, making cattle scamper on both sides of the track while our hair stood straight up on top of our head (cries of OH! OH! by those who have seen us with our hats off). It was a jolly ride with two such good fellows as Ross and Staley, and it gratified a wish we had nursed for a long time to ride that kind of horse."

The final picnic was held in 1916, suspended the following year because of World War I and never started up again because interest was waning with the increasing popularity of the motor car, Hartzler explained.

The railroad, Hartzler said, never really made money and only paid dividends to shareholders 12 times in its 47-year history. And those dividends only amounted to 2-4 percent.

"But it was a railroad of convenience," Hartzler said. "You could pretty much thumb a ride on it. It was said that the KV railroad would stop once at every single house and twice at every double house."

Hartzler amused the audience by sharing a poem written by Albert G. Gibboney, called "A Stitch in Time Saves A Lot of Worry." It's about the time that David I. Yoder asked the engineer to wait while he ran home to change his pants. The engineer told him he had three minutes and so David took off for home.

"... He started up the road
And took the Belleville hill on high
His coat tail stuck straight out behind
His hair was all awry.
He knew he hadn't any time
To waste and coming back,
He made the turn at Yoder's store
And went straight down the track.
The train was seven minutes late
When Dave jumped on the rear.
The fireman rang the bell
And then remarked the engineer
'We're the 'comodatingest railroad
From here to sunny France
For we wait until our passengers
Go home and change their pants.'"

By the 1920s, Hartzler said, a lot of railroads were having a difficult time competing with buses, trucks and cars. The Pennsylvania Railroad discontinued its passenger service along the Milroy branch by 1928 and the KV took the opportunity to take over the passenger service from Reedsville to the Lewistown Junction.

Because the KV was using the PRR line, the KV had to abide by PRR rules and that included operating the train with a full crew -engineer, fireman, conductor and brakeman, Hartzler said.

KVRR did not have a brakeman and Getter knew he had to hire somebody, so, Hartzler said, "he hired a simple-minded kid who usually came down to the station to watch every train, and for 50 cents a day, he became the rear brakeman. His sole duty was flagging the train across Route 22 in Lewistown. That was a great, proud moment in his day when he would get out with the red flag and walk in front of the train and stop all of the big tractor-trailers and everybody. The train would go by and stop, pick him up and go on in. So they met the full crew law."

By the 1930s the prosperity ended with the Depression and competition from the automobile and trucks. Some 80 percent of the freight that used to be shipped by train was being shipped by truck and passenger service saw a similar decline.

"On Dec. 30, 1938, the directors decided to quit. The KV would be sold for scrap," Hartzler said.

The last train ran in February 1940.

When asked by someone in the audience, Hartzler said his book is no longer available (although he recently heard that one sold for $100 at a sale). He is currently working on a second edition, which he hopes to make available by the end of this year. He recommended watching his Web site, www.kvrr.net, for details.