Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into Pennsylvania Read online

  That money built more than 2,000 libraries across the United States—$5 million went to the New York City Public Library and established the Carnegie Institution to provide research for American colleges and universities. Carnegie himself created Pittsburgh’s Carnegie-Mellon University (then called the Carnegie Institute of Technology) and funded the city’s Beaux Arts Complex. He also established a pension fund for Pittsburgh’s teachers and created the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, which, among other things, built a Palace of Peace in The Hague, Netherlands. Today, it’s the world’s international court. Andrew Carnegie died in 1919 at the age of 83.

  Quote Me

  “Concentrate your energies, your thoughts, and your capital. The wise man puts all his eggs in one basket and watches the basket.”

  —Andrew Carnegie

  Ex-Stream Architecture

  When you think of architecture, you can’t help but think of Frank Lloyd Wright, and one of his most incredible creations is right here in Pennsylvania.

  This architectural wonder isn’t nestled in the middle of a large city. In fact, it’s not in a convenient location at all—to find it, visitors have to travel miles of winding roads deep into Pennsylvania’s Allegheny woods. Yet every year, thousands of people from all over the world make the journey to Fallingwater.

  What makes the house so special? When it was built, it was an architectural marvel. The three-story home that Wright designed for businessman Edgar J. Kaufmann and his family, juts out 30 feet above a waterfall on Bear Run Creek and is made of reinforced concrete and sandstone. The creek’s running water can be heard from every part of the house, the hearth is constructed out of boulders from the creek, and the walls are full of windows, affording breathtaking views of the surrounding forest.

  The Architect

  In the early 1930s, Frank Lloyd Wright was badly in need of some income. He’d been one of America’s premier architects, but had caused a scandal when he’d left his second wife for another woman (his third wife). Since then, his client list had dwindled, and the Great Depression made the problem worse. With few prospects in sight, Wright’s style of architecture—called “organic” because it incorporated a building’s environment into the structure’s design—was in danger of being lost. Most people felt that Wright, then in his 60s, had already achieved his greatest accomplishments and that his best years were behind him.

  But while attending a party at the home of the Kaufmanns—Edgar Sr., who was president of Kaufmann’s department store in Pittsburgh, and his wife, Liliane—Wright made a not-so-subtle push for a job when he remarked that the couple’s house wasn’t “worthy” of them. The insult must have made an impression because, in December 1934, Kaufmann took Wright to a piece of property he owned in the Pennsyl-vania woods where he planned to replace some aging cabins with a new summer house.

  When Kaufmann showed Wright the family’s favorite picnic spot—a large, flat rock overlooking a picturesque waterfall on Bear Run Creek—Wright had found what he was looking for: the perfect site for an “organic” house that would seem to grow naturally out of the rocks. As Wright told an interviewer many years later, “The natural thing seemed to be to cantilever the house from that rock bank over the falling water.” It was a daring innovation: a house suspended over a waterfall.

  Wright quickly came up with the idea, but he didn’t put his plans to paper until Kaufmann came to Wright’s studio weeks later to see how the Bear Run project was progressing. Wright began to sketch the plans shortly before Kaufmann arrived, and his staff hurried to finish them while Wright and his unsuspecting client had lunch.

  The Client

  Kaufmann was shocked when he saw Wright’s plans for a three-story house hovering above Bear Run Creek. His request for a view of the waterfall had been ignored, and what was worse, he knew this house—which Wright had started calling “Fallingwater”—would cost about $155,000, a lot more than he’d originally planned to spend. The location wasn’t what he’d had in mind, either. Kaufmann said to Wright, “I expected you to build the house beside the falls, not on top of them!”

  But Kaufmann had experience as a civic leader and planner of public works buildings, and he realized he was looking at plans for an architectural masterpiece. He knew that Falling water would increase his social standing (as Jews, he and his family had been shut out of Pittsburgh’s elite society). And on a more idealistic level, Kaufmann felt that good architecture transformed people’s lives for the better. So he gave the go-ahead for Fallingwater.

  A New Kind of House

  Building began in the summer of 1936. Local craftsmen excavated sandstone on the property and incorporated it into the house. Vertical sandstone walls separated horizontal “trays” of reinforced concrete that formed the living and bedroom levels on massive terraces that seemed to float above Bear Run.

  But suspending a house over a waterfall posed problems, and engineers disagreed about how to make the house structurally sound and stable. One famous controversy erupted over the four concrete beams that supported the living room. Worried that they would collapse, Kaufmann ordered engineers to double the amount of reinforcing steel inside the concrete. Wright was furious that the changes were made without his being consulted, and he sent an angry note to Kaufmann: “I don’t know what kind of architect you are familiar with but it apparently isn’t the kind I think I am . . . If I do not have your confidence—to hell with the whole thing!” Kaufmann wrote back this famous reply: “I don’t know what kind of client you are familiar with but it apparently isn’t the kind I think I am. If I do not have your confidence in the matter—to hell with the whole thing . . . P.S. Now don’t you think that we should stop writing letters?”

  Other conflicts arose over Wright’s plan to cover the building in gold leaf to match the surrounding forest’s autumn leaves. Kaufmann chose a less expensive solution: beige paint. But in spite of the complications, building went relatively smoothly. By December 1937, the house was ready for the Kaufmanns to move in.

  Fallingwater’s organic theme continued indoors. The floor was made of huge slabs of polished and waxed sandstone. The large boulder that had been Kaufmann’s favorite picnic spot became the hearth of a massive stone fireplace. The living area was an early example of an “open floor plan”—one great room replaced the usual parlor, dining room, and study. Liliane Kaufmann wrote to Wright that her family spent some of the “happiest weekends” they’d ever known in the completed Fallingwater.

  The Power of Fallingwater

  The Kaufmanns weren’t the only people happy with their new house. About a month after they moved in, Time magazine featured a photo of Fallingwater on its cover, proclaiming the house as Wright’s “most beautiful job.” The Museum of Modern Art published a book about the house, and architectural critics praised it.

  As Fallingwater’s fame grew, so did Wright’s career. Rumor had it that writer Ayn Rand used the Fallingwater project as inspiration for her novel The Fountainhead (Gary Cooper played the Wright-esque architect in the film version), and the good press led to a renaissance for Wright’s career. He went on to develop many new projects, including the Guggenheim Museum in New York City and the Marin County Civic Center in California. Within his lifetime, Wright became known as “the world’s greatest architect.”

  A Public Treasure

  The Kaufmann family held on to Fallingwater until 1963, when Edgar Kaufmann Jr. turned it over to the public through the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy (WPC). By 2005, more than 2.7 million people had toured the house that Smithsonian magazine called “one of 28 places to visit before it’s too late.”

  But for all its popularity, the building hasn’t aged well. Kaufmann—who once called his beloved home the “seven bucket house” for the leaks in its flat roof and the mold in its damp walls—wouldn’t have been surprised. The worrisome cantilevered terrace in the living room seems to have become as much of a problem as Kaufmann feared. Not even the extra steel was enough to keep i
t from drooping over the years.

  In 2001, worried that the main terrace would eventually fall into the creek, the WPC launched an $11.5 million restoration of Fallingwater. Engineers not only strengthened the terrace but also restored corroding steel, waterproofed the building, and made water treatment, sewage, and landscape improvements. Today, with the restoration complete, visitors can again tour the home and see many of its original artwork and furnishings.

  Only in PA

  Pennsylvania is the only state that . . .

  . . . doesn’t impose a tax on non-cigarette tobacco products such as cigars and chewing tobacco.

  . . . has two Major League Baseball teams in the same league: the Philadelphia Phillies and the Pittsburgh Pirates are both in the National League. All others with two—Florida, Illinois, Missouri, New York, Ohio, and Texas—have one team in the American and one in the National League. (California, the only state with more than two teams—it has five—has two in the American and three in the National League.)

  . . . doesn’t allow local police departments to use radar to catch speeding drivers. (State police may.)

  . . . has made Flag Day (June 14) a legal state holiday.

  . . . has a geologic time period named after it. The Pennsylvanian period is a subperiod of the Carboniferous, and runs from roughly 320 to 286 million years ago. The term was first used in the 1800s by geologists studying rocks in the Keystone State. (The Mississippian period is named after the river, not the state.)

  . . . has a name that requires all eight fingers (thumbs not included) to type.

  . . . gives 100 percent of the proceeds from the state lottery to programs for the state’s older residents. The Pennsylvania Lottery was established in 1971 and, since then, has contributed more than $18.3 billion to programs for the elderly.

  . . . was an original colony, but lacked an Atlantic coastline.

  . . . mines anthracite coal, the hardest, most lustrous, most pure, and most valuable type.

  . . . by law, requires doctors to notify the state if a patient is unfit to drive for any reason.

  . . . does not require that the signing of a will be witnessed (although many Pennsylvania counties do).

  Did You Know?

  The Amish don’t allow bumper stickers on their buggies. But if they did, they might choose one of these (all of which we’ve actually seen on cars in Pennsylvania):

  •Neigh if Ye Be Amish.

  •I Brake for Barn Raisings.

  •What happens in Rumspringa stays in Rumspringa.

  •Elect an Amish for President. See how the oil companies like that!

  Welcome to “Penn State”

  East side, west side, and all around the state . . . see if you can find the 20 cities hidden in this Pennsylvania-shaped puzzle. (Answers on page 298.)

  ALLENTOWN

  ALTOONA

  BETHLEHEM

  BLUE BALL

  BUTLER

  CHESTER

  ERIE

  HARRISBURG

  HERSHEY

  JOHNSTOWN

  LANCASTER

  PHILADELPHIA

  PITTSBURGH

  POCONOS

  RADNOR

  READING

  SCRANTON

  VILLANOVA

  WILKES-BARRE

  YORK

  Grapes of Wealth

  Whether you prefer wine or Welch’s, drink up! Pennsylvania grows some of the best grapes in the nation.

  The term “wine country” conjures up images of California and France, but parts of Pennsylvania have ideal grape-growing conditions. Rolling hills provide drainage, the growing season is long, and the state gets enough rain each year to provide natural irrigation. As a result, Pennsylvania is home to more than 14,000 acres of grapes, making it the fourth-largest grape producer in the United States. (Only California, Wash-ington, and New York grow more.)

  Juice, Yes! Wine, No?

  Ninety percent of Pennsylvania’s grapes are harvested for juice production. In 1911, the Welch Grape Juice Company built a plant in North East, Pennsylvania, that has become one of the largest grape-processing plants in the world. Today, it covers more than 60 acres and is the largest employer in the area. The plant’s 75 tanks can hold 17 million gallons of juice, and it produces about half of Welch’s total output.

  Winemaking, on the other hand, has a long—but limited—history in the Keystone State. William Penn planted Pennsylvania’s first vineyard on his property in 1683, but the first commercial vineyard in the state (and the country) opened in Spring Mills, along the Schuylkill River, in 1793. Called the Vine Company of Pennsylvania, it operated there until 1822. A hundred years later, the wine industry in Pennsylvania had suffered two setbacks: First, when vintners tried to add European vines, they discovered that a tiny indigenous insect—grape phylloxera—fed on the roots of all but the native Concord and Niagara grapevines and destroyed the European varieties. Then, in 1920, Prohibition shut down all commercial wine production in United States.

  Back in Business, Finally

  Prohibition was repealed in 1933, but Pennsylvania was the last state to lift its ban on commercial wine production. (Pennsylvania’s liquor board was especially conservative.) Finally, in 1968, the state allowed small wineries to sell their product directly to the public as long as the wine was made with Pennsylvania-grown grapes. Since then, more than 120 wineries have opened, and today, Pennsylvania wineries are mostly small, family-run operations that produce less than 5,000 gallons of wine each year. The state ranks eighth in wine output, with approximately 920,000 gallons produced in 2007.

  Pennsylvania Wine Country

  There are seven wine regions in Pennsylvania today: Lake Erie, the Pittsburgh countryside, the Northern Wilds (north-central Pennsylvania), Upper Susquehanna, Lower Susquehanna, Le high Valley and Berks County, and the Philadelphia countryside. More than 50 types of grapes are grown for wine production.

  Ice, Ice Baby

  Most of Pennsylvania’s grapes are harvested by early October, but even after the weather gets colder and the first frost hits the vines, there is one last harvest to be made. A few Pennsyl vania vineyards produce ice wine, a specialty drink that can be made only from grapes that have frozen on the vine. After most grapes have been picked, vintners leave some of them to dehydrate (and sweeten) for about two more months on the vine.

  Then, in December or early January, after the first hard freeze hits, the vintners handpick and press the frozen grapes. They remove the ice crystals inside the skin and leave behind just the highly concentrated pulp, which then ferments for two to three months. The result is a sweet dessert wine.

  Because of the special growing conditions, the labor-intensive harvesting, and the fact that it takes four times as many grapes to produce one bottle, ice wine usually comes in small bottles (6 to 12 ounces) with a high price tag (sometimes up to $50 each).

  Did You Know?

  The wastewater released by Welch’s North East grape juice plant contains a small amount of fructose and glucose sugar in it. So an Ohio-based biotechnology firm, NanoLogix, and researchers at Gannon University in Erie came up with a “bioreactor” that feeds this sugar water to millions of bacteria, which then produce hydrogen gas as a waste product. (Hydrogen has been touted as a possible alternative power source.)

  The bioreactor hasn’t been used on a large scale yet, but the North East plant has already successfully tested the first prototype, and the hydrogen from bacteria produced electricity. NanoLogix’s plan is to build a large bioreactor to filter all of Welch’s wastewater and harvest hydrogen gas. Then the company wants to install the reactors at bottlers around the country, creating an alternative power source for new types of energy-efficient cars.

  “Broad Street Bullies”

  Pennsylvania has two National Hockey League teams, the Philadelphia Flyers and the Pittsburgh Penguins. Here’s the history of the Flyers. (Penguins fans can skate over to page 198.)

  The Details

  Name
: The story of how the Flyers got their name goes like this: The Flyers formed in 1967, the year the NHL expanded from the original six teams to twelve. A contest was held to name the new team; 11,000 ballots were submitted, and the winner was the “Flyers.” But according to team lore, owner Ed Snider’s sister Phyllis had already chosen that name, so it was a foregone conclusion that it would “win.” Other names in the running: Bashers, Blizzards, Bruisers, Huskies, Keystones, Knights, Lancers, Liberty Bells, Raiders, and Sabres.

  Colors: Black, orange, and white. Bill Putnam, one of the team’s owners, thought they were “hot” colors.

  Logo: The “Flying P”: a winged, black letter P with an orange dot, representing a hockey puck, in the hole of the P. Philadelphia graphic artist Sam Ciccone designed the logo and the team’s uniforms with their distinctive stripe running from the collar down both arms. (The stripe represents wings.)

  Through the Years

  The Flyers were a good team right from the start, making the playoffs in their first two seasons. They also became known as one of the toughest teams in the league, earning the nickname of “Broad Street Bullies” (after Philadelphia’s Broad Street, home of the Spectrum Arena). By the 1973–74 season, the Flyers were regarded as the best team in the NHL, and they proved it by beating Bobby Orr and the Boston Bruins in the Stanley Cup Finals. The next year, they won the Cup again.