The title of this article came from a popular television show on the History Channel that explored the infrastructure of cities like London, Paris, Rome, etc. There are tunnels and caves below many cities that most people have never seen nor thought about. When I watched these shows I never imagined I would be writing about what lies below Tyrone, but in 2013 I saw something here that I never knew existed, even though I had spent 34 of my 61 years in Tyrone.
In the summer of 2013 it was very inconvenient to detour around the Sheetz store on 14th Street via one-way traffic on Lincoln Avenue, but what was unearthed in that intersection was rather interesting and probably not seen up close by many people from Tyrone. I am referring to the arched drainage flume for Dry Run which crosses under Tyrone from 15th Street below Lincoln Avenue to Bald Eagle Creek, which runs behind the Hookies Fire Station. The section of street replaced is where the tunnel crosses under 14th Street. PennDOT had deemed it structurally unsound.
I grew up in Tyrone and was aware that the stream that runs along 15th Street went underground after it crossed Lincoln Avenue, but that was about all I knew. I clearly remember when Cathy Shea disappeared that the tunnel was searched for her body, but nothing was found. So when I finally saw the tunnel firsthand, I was fascinated and wanted to know more.
Sinking Run, the parent stream
Sinking Run is a small stream that comes out of the mountains west of Tyrone and feeds into the reservoir that provides residents of Tyrone with drinking water. Imagining Sink Run before there was a reservoir, it’s difficult to envision the amount of water that would have had to come down that little stream. The following comes from Tyrone of Today, The Gateway of the Alleghenies:
Sinking Run merits more than a passing mention. Rising in the Allegheny summit it flows rapidly down its slope till, within the borough limits, it encounters a high rocky point through which it seeks an outlet. This it finds only by tunneling a passage for itself sufficient for ordinary times but too small for times of heavy rainfall or melting snow. For this overflow an additional escape is provided in Dry Run, which cuts a straight course to the Little Bald Eagle, a few rods above its mouth. The writer witnessed in the Spring Flood of 1893 a feat of heroism, which ought not to go, unrecorded, if not otherwise rewarded. A mad torrent was pouring down the run and whirling and roaring over the vortex of the sink, when a cry was raised “A child in the run!” While men and women were hastening to the scene and asking what should be done, a boy fourteen years old, Abbie Fleck, just coming home from school, ran down the bank to where the senseless form was tumbling about in the rocks and waters. In spite of the tremendous force of the current, he reached the drowning body and bore it to land. The little girl, Amelia Strohmeyer, six years of age, owes her life to the prompt action of her deliverer, for she was within a few yards of the sink and so nearly gone that several hours passed before consciousness was restored.
I think this gives an accurate description of just what this little stream was capable of doing. There were actually two outlets for the torrent of water. The first place it went underground was just below the cliff behind the American Legion, resurfacing at the “Big Spring,” which was located near Washington Avenue and 10th Street. The second place is where it continues diagonally across what is present day Lincoln and then Pennsylvania Avenues as it channels under Tyrone to empty into Bald Eagle Run behind the Hookies Fire Department.
An invitation into the flume
Late one morning in 2013, I was walking around town updating some of my pictures when I came to 14th Street and Logan Avenue. The road was opened, and I could see into the trench that had been dug. What I saw was an elaborate stone arch running under the town. When he noticed my camera, the foreman of the PennDOT project asked what I was doing. I told him that I was a bit of a history nut and thought what I was seeing might make an article for the local historical society newsletter. He invited me to come closer and to take as many pictures as I wanted.
My first thought was: when was this built and by whom? I asked if he or any of the other workers knew any of the history of this arched flume. I got some blank stares and a verbal “no.” Since this was a PennDOT project I thought I should visit PennDOT offices in Hollidaysburg and see if I could talk to someone—anyone—who might know anything about this flume.
It turned out that the PennDOT historian Jonathon Daily was in his office that day. After several minutes of talking he reaffirmed what I already knew: that the entrance of the flume was just past the Legion and the exit was at the Bald Eagle Run. I asked, “Who built it?” “Not a clue,” was the answer I got. PennDOT did not maintain any historical records on this construction.
I told the PennDOT Representative that I would love to take a hike through the entire length of the flume but two things were stopping me. First, I could not be sure of the air quality, and being in the middle of it is no time to find out that you could not breathe; and second, that there probably would be a Tyrone policeman standing at the exit waiting for me when I came out. I said, “At my age I don’t need to start a criminal record.” The gentleman I was talking to laughed and added, “If you change your mind give me a call and I’ll go with you.” That was not the comment I was expecting.
Following the paper trail
Some time later at the Tyrone Area Historical Society office, Nancy Smith brought out a map of Tyrone dated 1926 showing the flume in place. It wasn’t shown in the late 1800’s on the Sanborn maps but it was there 26 years later. What happened in Tyrone during those years that would have necessitated such a large project? Only two things came to mind: growth of the railroad, and the opening of the paper mill.
I tried contacting the owners of the West Virginia Pulp and Paper Company and found out that all the written records were sent to Cornell University. I contacted Cornell and was told that there was such a large number of boxes that it was impossible for them to research my questions for me, but I was welcome to come up and do so myself. There were several hundred boxes of documents containing both production records and staff meeting minutes, with no guarantee that there would be any mention of the Sink Run or flood control. At this point I felt that this door was pretty much closed.
So that took me back to the possible involvement of the PRR. In the late 1800’s, the railroad was rapidly expanding and they had the money to do such a project. I could see it would have been in the best interest of the railroad to build this project to protect their land and tracks from flooding. Although I have tried to research this theory through the railroad I have not been able to come up with any documented evidence, only speculation, as their records had been purged some years ago. I did find out that at the beginning of the 20th century the majority of the workers building bridges for the railroad were Italian immigrants who were very skilled in stonework. The railroad would have had all the resources needed for such a project—raw materials and skilled workers.
The second flume
One Sunday morning before church service started, Grant Gault told me that he had been thinking about what I had related to him of my frustrations with research on the tunnel. Grant was a long-time resident of Tyrone, and I thought he might have heard of someone who knew something. He told me that there was a second flume. He indicated that on Lincoln Avenue, just past the Neptune Fire Station there is a small bridge. On the side of the bridge closest to the railroad track is a stream that goes underground.
I could not contain my curiosity, and had to go take a look. About 15 feet after it went underground was the same type of flume (with cut stone arches) as the one located near Sheetz. The exit to this flume was along the streambed at the paper mill and you can see from one end of this tunnel to the other. In the late 1800’s, this area was all railroad tracks and rail yards. After a closer look at that 1926 Sanborn map, I found this second flume.
I have had a lot of difficulty and frustration in researching this article. I was in contact with Jeffrey Adams about how I might go about researching this topic. During our conversation he said, “The best thing about writing about history is that it helps people remember; but the worst thing is that it is history and no one is around to help you with the research.” This has been my problem from the first picture I took of the tunnel under Tyrone.
As of now, it seems most likely that the railroad constructed these waterways, and that they were built in the late 1880’s to the early 1900’s; but of course, we may never know for sure because this is “HISTORY” and all the witnesses are gone.
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