As a child…

In the 1970’s and into the 1980’s, most folks who grew up on the “Hill” - the Benshoff Hill/Valley View section of south Middle Taylor Township - vividly recall on most hot and humid summer nights the “eery” orange-glow on the east horizon of the night time sky. This was towards the area commonly known as “Rosedale” at the toe of Prospect Hill. One of my fondest memories growing up was sitting outside on the open wooden deck of our house at night with my Dad listening to the St. Louis Cardinals major league baseball game on KMOX a.m. radio. Back in those days radio was still big although television was starting to take root, and KMOX out of St. Louis was one of the strongest radio stations in the nation and we could pick it up on most nights. We were Cardinal - not Pittsburgh Pirate baseball fans - not exactly sure why but mostly because I think my Grandpap Joseph Thomas loved the Cardinals because of baseball nostalgia with Stan Musial, Bob Gibson and Lou Brock. As we tuned in on nights when the weather would allow us, so too was the orange-glow of the east - originating at “Rosedale”.

At that time, little did we know or care what the orange glow was. Yes, we knew it was from the mill and the Bethlehem Steel Corporation (BSC) Rosedale coke plant. And we also knew they trucked or railed and then dumped slag up the Hinckston Run valley at the Rosedale dump site which was just below the waterfall at the Hinckston Run Dam. As a young child I never put any thought into the glow or the steel mill operation that created it. This was because both of my grandfathers, my dad, several of my uncles, other family members and many, many other friends, neighbors and their dads, uncles and brothers (and so on) worked for the various Bethlehem Steel Corporation or US Steel mill operations all across Johnstown.

As a teen…

As a teen, which would have been in the late 1970’s to early 1980’s, we (me and my friends) roamed the “Hill” as curious youngsters and as explorers would do. To make extra money, we would cut grass for neighbors in the summer and shovel snow in the winter. We played baseball, football and pond hockey pick-up games from dusk to dawn. Sometimes we played “matchboxes” (miniature cars) in the dirt. We played “spot-light” a night-time hide and seek game and quite often just looked at the star filled and orange-glowing sky at night. Many hot summer nights we would camp out in makeshift tents made with just blankets. We roamed by foot, bicycle, ski’s, snow-sled, mini-bike, motorcycle or whatever else would carry us. Later we became avid hunters and fisherman. We fished at the Hinckston Run Reservoir (even though we weren’t really supposed to) and the stocked trout stream that fed into the reservoir at the back end. Some of my friends even ventured into the sport of trapping in order to make a few extra bucks by selling wildlife pelts.

We noticed and knew every feature of the “Hill”. We knew every road, every path, every tree, every fruit tree or bush, every garden, every gully, every bit of terrain, and every spring, seep or drainage spot there was. I can still close my eyes and remember these features as if I was still there. We noticed the trees starting to grow more as the steel mill operations began to dwindle down (unfortunately), but also (fortunately) they were no longer sending their plumes of smoke and ash onto the hillside where we lived. I recall my dad telling me when they were young and roamed the “Hill” also, there were absolutely no trees at all. He described it as if it was like prairie or pastureland. I also recall the National Guard taking army trucks with volunteers onto the “Knob” to plant hundreds of young pine seedlings. I also recall many areas across the “Hill” where there were springs of water which oozed from the hill. There was also some sort of spray sprinkler devices on the steep hillside just across from the Bethlehem Steel Corporation (BSC) Rosedale coke plant on the Honan Avenue road side.

When we became older we ventured even more into the Hinckston Run stream valley. Sometimes we would ride our mini-bikes/motorcycles across the slag pile at the Riders Dump (Rosedale) Disposal Area itself. The Hinckston Run stream was a pure wreck. It was a bright orange-red-yellow in color and there were mine shaft buildings and seeps cropping out and entering directly and polluting the stream at several locations. The high and steep hillside on the Riders dump side of the stream was dark black in color with deep rills and gullies of erosion along the slope which carried coal material directly into the stream. The old road along the stream (now Honan Avenue) was more of a jeep and motorcycle trail than a road at the time. I distinctly recall the 1977 flood doing significant damage to this road and some of it’s bridge structures - virtually making it impassible by vehicle.

I remember my grandfather’s house across the street from our house now Taft Street. The house is at now 223 Taft Street. The white paint on the wood siding all over the house would flake off every single year. Large chunks would fall off in mass quantities. It would have to be repainted yearly. The orange-glow in the eastern sky continued also.

I believe too as a teen is when I also first started to recognize, but not yet was able to comprehend, the different illnesses and medical conditions that cropped up with many of my family, friends, and neighbors. Many of these conditions I had never heard of before - like cancer. And some of these conditions it seemed like a lot of people had - like breathing problems and “sugar” now known as diabetes.

This became quite apparent to me when my grandfather Joseph “Cac” Zahoran passed away in 1982. Official cause of death was cardiac arrest or congestive heart failure. Now my grandfather was a great, strong and loving man. He endured a difficult life. He grew up in a large family and worked the family farm at a young age. He worked all the rest of his life in the mill. He served in the US Army during the Korean conflict. He was the most skilled wood carpenter that I knew. He and his brothers could build a house completely from scratch from ground to roof and amazing to me was that he was very much musically inclined and could play the banjo, harmonica, and accordion. To our joy, he often played with his buddies, usually after a couple of beers. I did not know this, but my uncle told me that when he was young he had jumped of one of the rock ledges at the waterfall below the Hinckston Run dam and cracked his head. He walked home afterward. He always had a scar on his bald head, I had never known why until like 35 years after he passed.

Now toward the end of his life, he developed severe depression and schizophrenia. This mental disorder made him do many strange things most of which he would never had done in his right mind. As a result of this mental illness, he had to be committed physically, at the request of his own family and by local magistrate and police order, as he became a danger to himself and others. After spending some time in a Somerset veteran’s treatment hospital he passed away unexpectedly with the heart failure. Ironically it was while he was playing the banjo. After his passing, an autopsy was performed. The medical report indicated extremely high levels of lead (a heavy metal) in nearly all of his brain tissue. They did not say how he got the lead in his brain.

You can probably say that this tragic event in my life started me down the path of all this research. Before we go to the next website section, here is some various items related the Rosedale coke plant and where we lived on the “Hill”.