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Centre Daily Times April 4 2005
History revised: Evidence doesn't always support the myths
By Rich Kerstetter; rkerstet@centredaily.com
"Nittany Mountain is so named because a local Indian princess named Nit-A-Nee, when denied permission by her father to marry her European pioneer love, cast herself off the rocky heights to her sorrowful death.
It's a great story that is often repeated, even among amateur historians.
Unfortunately, it never happened.
The legend of Princess Nit-A-Nee is just one of those tales that someone wrote down and someone else copied and that eventually became part of the historical canon.
It is a myth, just like Aaronsburg, the lovely Haines Township village with its wide main street, being originally laid out to serve as Pennsylvania's capital -- it wasn't -- because it is the exact geographical center of the state -- it's not.
"Unless you have a rectangle, how can you measure the exact center," one geographer explained. "Depending how you measure, you can have any number of 'centers' of the state."
But someone said it, someone else believed it -- the story, although lacking documentation, does make intrinsic sense and appeals to local pride, after all -- and at some point, it became part of Penns Valley and Centre County lore.
But other than "someone told my grandfather" or "I read it in article somewhere" or "I thought (the late historian) Hugh Manchester wrote about," there isn't a shred of historical evidence to back it up.
Someone may have written it and believed it. But check out the sources -- if any -- that writer used. Where is the historical documentation?
Looking Back has fallen victim to historical myths on several occasions since its inception on Feb. 6, 2003 (assuming the date was correct in the newspaper that day, it was copied accurately by the writer of this article and the foregoing sentence does not contain a typographical error).
Most recently, on March 21, Looking Back identified the Wagner family -- Victor, his wife, Bess, and their children, Earl and Geraldine -- as proudly posing in their automobile, one of the first in Unionville, around 1916. That was based on information included with the photo, which is part of the Centre County Historical Society collection.
Sadly, Unionville -- in the photo caption and headline -- was incorrectly identified as Uniontown, which is just another example of how myths and errors creep into what comes to be accepted as "historical truth."
Shortly after the feature appeared, Kermit H. Peters, of Bellefonte, called and, in addition to pointing out the obvious typographical errors, said his grandfather Benjamin Franklin "Frank" Peters actually owned the first automobile in Unionville, a 1904 Franklin, and he had a photograph to prove it.
Peters is probably correct, but as soon as Looking Back concedes the point, someone else is likely to show up with a photo from 1902 with an even earlier horseless carriage in front of the Fleming post office.
Every absolute statement is wrong -- including this one.
The historian, like the journalist, is only as good as his or her sources -- or as good as the sources to whom the writer, in his or her wisdom and experience, chooses to give the most credence.
On May 10, 2004 -- again, assuming the date was copied correctly -- Looking Back featured a photograph of what was purported to be the last hanging in the jail yard in Bellefonte, the public execution of convicted murderer Bert Delige. That was based on information that accompanied the photo.
Unfortunately, the image may actually have depicted the May 8, 1913, hanging of Frank Calhoun in Huntingdon County. Calhoun was executed for the murder of Ben Galloup, and the Huntingdon County Historical Society has an extensive collection of photographs of the event.
An observant member of the society noted that a careful examination of the photo shows a milk wagon baring a sign for "Hartslog Valley Farm Dairy," a business that was located near Alexandria in Huntingdon County. But somehow, down through the years, the photo became associated with the Delige hanging and was identified as such in the Centre County Historical Society collection.
Which brings us to the point of this essay.
Journalism has also been called "the first draft of history," and the two enterprises do have much in common. Most appropriately in this case is the advice a crusty editor is said to have given to a cub reporter (perhaps another apocryphal story) about what you know and what you think you know that could just as well apply to the historian.
"If your mother says she loves you," the editor is reported to have said, "check it out."
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