The Ghost Dog of Woodbury and the Mystery Of Leather Cracker

 

If you were to drive along Henrietta Mountain Road in Woodbury Township, you might catch a glimpse of an unassuming country lane just after crossing Clover Creek. And if you were to look on a map, you would discover that this unassuming country lane has a rather strange name-- Leather Cracker Road. Should you be tempted to drive down this simple rural road out of sheer curiosity, however, you will be disappointed; this unassuming country road, scarcely a thousand feet in length, is nothing more than a driveway to an equally unassuming country farm. And if you were to stop and ask any of the locals who live on the borderlands of Bedford and Blair counties about the origin of this unusual name, you're not likely to find an answer. The reason for this is rather simple: No one has referred to this region as Leather Cracker in over a century.

However, if you were to travel back in time two hundred years,  you would discover that just about everyone living between Altoona and Bedford in the 1820s was familiar with Leather Cracker, which was the name for a rag-tag village of about a dozen or so farms scattered in the vicinity of Morrison's Cove in Woodbury Township. Decades later iron ore would be discovered here, and a railroad would be constructed connecting Hollidaysburg with Morrison's Cove to allow the transport of millions of tons of hematite mined from the nearby "Leathercracker Ore Beds", which were purchased by the Cambria Iron Company in 1870. This ore, which was transported by rail to Johnstown, was necessary to make the type of steel for which Western Pennsylvania is now famous. 

But more on that later; you're still probably curious about the origin of the Leather Cracker name. Records suggest that even when Leather Cracker was in its heyday, the origins of the name had already been forgotten. "We at one time knew the legend whereby this name came into existence," wrote a reporter from the Altoona Tribune in August of 1884, "but at present it has passed from memory."
One possible explanation comes not from a source in Pennsylvania, but from Kansas. In writing about a Mr. Lewis Potter of Abilene in 1886, the Junction City (Kansas) Union explained: Mr. Potter is from the line of Bedford and Blair counties, Pennsylvania, a region known as Leather-Cracker, where the aborignees [sic] wore leather breeches.

Considering that the region was home to various bands of Iroquois until the time of the French & Indian War, this seems like a sound theory. The Iroquois and other indigenous peoples did wear deerskin leggings, which must have been a rather curious spectacle to the early Scots-Irish settlers who colonized the region in the 1750s. It is likely that these early pioneers, inspired by the natives, adopted a similar style of dress. If such was the case, this fashion trend was undoubtedly mocked and ridiculed by the Pennsylvania Dutch who settled in the region a short time later.

Undeniably, the customs of cultures of those who lived in Leather Cracker Cove were unique, allowing Leather Cracker to exist for centuries in its own little bubble, like a secessionist territory, apart from the rest of Pennsylvania. Proof of this comes as early as 1858, when a tongue-in-cheek letter from a "Woodberry Local"  named Sylvester Styles was published by the Bedford Inquirer. It reads:

Leather Cracker came to town the other day! Have you heard of Leather Cracker? Leather Cracker is an oasis in a wilderness of mountains! A China or Japan surrounded with barbarians! Isolated from the balance of mankind, it is a free, independent, sovereign State! Only subject to its own invincible customs, its own hard-earned reputations, its impregnability to barbarians without, and the workings of its refined, magnanimous and all-powerful policy at home, has gained for it a world of notoriety, which only wants to be heralded on the mighty wings of the press to the four quarters of the globe.

The author then defines the geographic boundaries of the Leather Cracker region:

The State of Leather Cracker is situate in the Counties of Bedford and Blair, for the very good reason that no one county could contain it all; no, never! You might as well presume another sun in the solar system as to presume Leather Cracker to be located in one municipality! It is too yeasty, too barmy! Its characteristics are too national-- its fortunes too transcendent!

Leather Cracker is bounded on the North by the Ridge, a famous elevation all over this great country of ours! On the East by Tussey's Mountain, on the South by the Pulpit and West by Stonerook's Hill! It is needless to say that these places are classical places in the literature of Leather Cracker.

The author also divulged the origin of the peculiar name, which, if the author is to be believed, is rooted in an old-time story about an underwear malfunction suffered by an unfortunate old frontiersman who was out hunting one wintry night:

It was in the buckskin age, and singularly enough, our venerable friend wore buckskin unmentionables. I say it was clear, and not only clear, but cold, awfully cold! The old man reached the lick and secreted himself in the boughs of some somber pine. Oh, it was cold! So cold that it makes me quake to think of it! Ugh! How cold! When the old man left his perch and brought himself standing on terra firma, his breeches were so badly frozen that it required no effort, on his part, to stand... The old man vainly strove to put himself in motion, but for a long time without any apparent success. Eventually, the unmentionables began to yield reluctantly! They heaved, they moaned, they groaned, they cr-cr-cracked! Bang! Crack! Until the hills resounded with the explosions of those breeches! Poor old man! How little did he dream that his native land would long be remembered by this gratis performance of his breeches!

As charming as a tale this may be, it is hard to believe that exploding breeches are responsible for the Leather Cracker name. From the Civil War era through the early 20th century, it seems the term "Leather Cracker" was used, not by locals as a symbol of pride, but by outsiders as a slur or epithet for the folks who lived there. In fact, some people grew downright ornery whenever they were asked about the name's origin. One such example of this appears in the August 26, 1886 edition of the Altoona Times:

Your Hollidaysburg correspondent requested us to give the readers of the Tribune the origin of the name "Leather Cracker", now Henrietta. In the years that are passed we wrote for the Standard and gave to the readers thereof how Leather Cracker received that appellation. Result: a good friend took offense at us for so doing.

Maybe the reason people were so reluctant to discuss-- and so willing to forget-- the origin of the name was because its origin is far more shameful than shattered leather underwear. 

 Between 1850 and 1863, Bedford County's location right above the Mason-Dixon line made it an important stop along the Underground Railroad for fugitive slaves escaping from the South. Pennsylvania, being the first state to abolish slavery, passed The Grand Abolition Act on March 1, 1780. As a result, Bedford County was a magnet for runaway slaves for nearly three-quarters of a century. It also didn't hurt that much of the northern portion of the county-- including the region once known as Leather Cracker-- was heavily populated by Quakers, who were an influential part of the abolitionist movement.

Much to contrary belief, the 1780 Abolition Act did not end slavery overnight; rather, it gradually put an end to the practice of slavery over a period of many years. Those who owned slaves prior to the act's passage were allowed to keep the ones they already had. Records from the Pennsylvania State Archives show that at least 78 black slaves were registered as property by their Bedford County owners between 1780 and 1825. There were also many slaves who were set free by their masters during the Great Revival (1777-1780), when Evangelical churches threatened to revoke the membership of any parishioner who owned slaves.

While it's anyone's guess as to the true number of slaves who lived-- and died-- in Bedford County prior to the passage of the The Grand Abolition Act, it is known that slavery was practiced here as early as 1763. In his book on Bedford Village published that same year, author Hervey Allen wrote that a local innkeeper, Garrett Pendergass, was a slave owner. Unfortunately, a great many slaves were never registered by their masters, so it is impossible to say how many were in Bedford County and for how long.

Records also show that Woodbury Township, in which a large portion of Leather Cracker is situated, boasted at least one slave owner-- a farmer by the name of John Shirley. Among the slaves he registered as property were "Hannah" (b. June 11, 1787) and "Sam" (b. May 19, 1791). Could it be that "Leather Cracker" was a derogatory nickname for Shirley, a slave owner living in the midst of anti-slavery Quakers in upper Bedford County? If so, this could explain why folks from Morrison's Cove, Woodbury, Henrietta and surrounding communities were reluctant to talk about the past.

But there might be an even darker origin to the name. 

While many Bedford County residents supported abolition, there were an equal number of residents who had an opposite point of view. Many even went so far as to assist Southern masters in rounding up their runaways-- often with tragic consequences

. 

Imes Farm Cemetery

 

About forty miles south of Leather Cracker Cove, just below the village of Chaneysville, there is a farm containing the graves of thirteen runaway slaves. According to legend, when the slaves realized their pursuers were closing in on them, they took a stand and declared they would rather be killed than to be returned to their masters. The graves on the Lester Imes farm marks the spot of their massacre. Is it possible that a similar event might have occurred in the region once known as Leather Cracker? One can  easily imagine a mass of frightened humanity huddling in terror in the shade of Tussey Mountain, waiting for the dogs to catch up to them-- waiting to make one last, desperate stand against a furious master who ruled over them with a leather whip.

 

 

The Ghost Dog of Eshelman Cemetery

There are doubtless hundreds of unmarked graves in the hundreds of farm cemeteries scattered throughout the valleys and hillsides of Bedford County, each with an untold story-- and the vicinity of Leather Cracker has more than its fair share of such graveyards. One in particular comes with a strange and terrifying legend, which might possibly shed some light on the dark history of Woodbury Township. 

In order to understand the importance of ghosts in Pennsylvania Dutch theology, one must understand how these people are literal in their interpretation of Scripture and deeply sincere in their religious convictions. The German immigrants believed in an omnipotent, vengeful God-- a God who kept strict account of each sin and meted out an equal punishment, either in this life or the next. According to Pennsylvania Dutch superstition, the spirit of one who committed murder was doomed to be chained to the scene of the crime until the Day of Judgment. This brings us to the legend of the ghost dog of Eschelman Cemetery, a graveyard in the heart of Leather Cracker country.

The graveyard is located in Morrison's Cove, along Hickory Bottom Road, and among the oldest legible tombstones is one bearing the date of 1809. In those days, the Cove was a quiet place filled with quiet, law-abiding people, so it seemed rather strange when reports of the graveyard being haunted began to circulate sometime between 1815 and 1820. The apparition in question was a large, black dog which mysteriously emerged from the graveyard in broad daylight, following passersby as though it were lost and seeking its master. The phantom animal wore an anguished expression, a pained look that appeared more human than animal. Witnesses who claimed to have seen the ghost dog always told the same story: When it reached a certain distance from the cemetery, it would vanish just as suddenly as it had appeared, as if confined to a certain and definite geography-- like the ghost of a murderer.

 

Eshelman Cemetery

 

The legend of the ghost dog of Eschelman Cemetery was forgotten for many years, but was rekindled in 1923, when an article about the supernatural occurrence was printed in the Altoona Tribune. An article published on March 26, 1923, relates the experiences of Lydia Miller, and elderly resident of Morrison's Cove who was a little girl when she had her encounter with the ghost dog. The article states:

During one summer, Lydia had to go along a lane skirting the graveyard to take the cows to pasture in the morning and bring them home in the evening. On these occasions the dog would appear and follow her for some distance. At first she was so frightened that she ran as hard as she could, without looking back. But eventually, as the apparition persisted, her fear lessened.

One evening as she was driving the cows home, the dog discreetly following her, she turned about suddenly and faced it. As she did so, the dog reared on its hind legs and seemed about to leap against her to fawn upon her. In the extremity of her terror she unconsciously warded it off with her arms. As she did this, the dog disappeared instantaneously as though it had been blotted from sight by an unseen hand. And that was the last Lydia or anyone else ever saw of it. 

While the existence of a ghost dog in an ancient graveyard may not point to a forgotten 19th century slavemaster, or reflect the ghastly massacre of a runaway slave, the indisputable fact that both slavery and slave-hunting occurred in Bedford County presents a few tantalizing clues as to the origins of the place once known as Leather Cracker. So perhaps it is not surprising that locals began to shun the name by the time of the Civil War, and have done their best to distance themselves from whatever embarrassing history the name implies, from slavery to a poor old pioneer with frozen unmentionables.

At any rate, the place-name "Leather Cracker" was replaced by a more genteel name-- Henrietta-- when the community was renamed in honor of the wife of Edward Y. Townsend, president of the Cambria Iron Company.

Sources:

Bedford Inquirer, July 16, 1858.
Altoona Tribune, Aug. 19, 1886.
Altoona Tribune, Aug. 26, 1886.
Altoona Tribune, Oct. 7, 1886.
Altoona Tribune, March 26, 1923.