We spent several days doing more family research- this time, John's father's side. Ploughing through deeds and court records, we were able to pin down the location of John’s great-great-great grandfathers property. We were stunned to find that the brick house on the property still exists. Originally a two story brick building, it has been expanded over the years and is now a bed and breakfast with 9 rooms. We met the owners who were in the process of selling the B&B and buying another property. They were very gracious and showed us the inside and outside of the house, explained their discoveries while renovating-even showed us the cellar.
Our other family search was in the Columbia, PA cemetery. We were lucky to track down one of the volunteers who has taken on the cemetery as a project and has attempted to catalog the gravestones and keep the place maintained. We found the graves of 8 of the AuWerters from the area. 
John’s father had told a family story of the Civil War burning of the Columbia Bridge- with his family playing a key role. So, we had to visit the “Columbia Bridge Burning Diorama” in Wilkensburg. Only open from 1:00-4:00 on Sunday afternoon, we were the only two visitors, paid our $4.00 fee, and got a personal presentation. This man has been doing this presentation for 10 years. The diorama wasn’t the typical audio presentation with lights to highlight the specific battle scenes. No, this was very low budget, with an audio feed and our guide standing over the diorama with a laser pointer, pointing to each battle scene to correspond to the audio. 10 years…. Imagine that!One morning, we took the Philadelphia Pike, trying to avoid the Route 30 traffic and stumbled upon the Whitmer Inn. With a limited number of families in the area in the 1700-1800’s, it seems that one or another of John's relatives had married into all of these families. 
We pulled into the driveway and were met by a very strange looking man- short, scrawny, cigarette smoking in dusty jeans and an old t-shirt- who appeared to either be on drugs or high on A LOT of caffine. He welcomed us into the house/inn, thinking that we were incoming guests to the inn. Once we explained that we were just interested in getting some history and information on the Whitmers, he started pulling out books and pamphlets on the inn and the family. He sat us down at a table still littered with food—cantelope slices, small boxes of sugary cereals and one of those grocery store coffee cakes still in plastic wrap. It took us a while to realize that this spread was his B&B offering for his guests. The room was packed with stuff- old newspapers, magazines, books lying in stacks all around the room.
We actually found the family connection in one of the genealogies that our new friend gave us. After trying to take notes on the lineage, we realized that we needed a copy of the document. Leaving me behind as “collateral”, John went back to the motorhome to make copies. While I sat and poured through the other documents, Grant would bounce in and out of the room. I got stories about his father, the archeological digs in their backyard and details on his various “antiques”. He’d leave for awhile, go into the next room and I’d hear him talking to someone or something- I assumed it was an animal. After a while, I started having visions of Grant as a serial killer, holding a hostage behind the door. FINALLY, John came back. I was ready to leave- but Grant wanted to give us the tour of the house. We got the full tour of the rooms, an explanation of his “renovations” and a request to “put in a good word with the tourist bureau”. Evidently he gets a few complaints.
In between all the research and encounters with strange and wonderful characters, we made a trip to York, PA, home of the largest Harley Davidson assembly plant. Here they assemble the touring and soft-tail models as well as doing custom work. Their list of products is a bit like a Starbucks menu….fat boy electra glide, heritage soft-tail classic…. The plant was huge-with over 1.5 million square feet under roof. Interestingly, most of the assembly work was done by women-with robots doing a lot of the other work.
After the tour, we stopped at the Eastern Market in York- and chowed down on a typical Pennsylvania style meal- a huge chicken pot pie. Nothing like chicken and gravy in the middle of the day to make you feel completely lethargic. Add to that, the horrendously hot and humid weather, and you have quite a combination.
To make the Amish seem normal, we went to the Ephrata Cloister. Founded in 1732, this was one of America’s earliest communal societies. The community- composed of “households”- families living on nearby farms- and the 80 celibate Brothers and Sisters. They came together following a charismatic leader from Germany, Conrad Beissel. Beissel believed in Saturday as the main day of worship and a God with a male and female side (the female side was Sophia)-and a desire to unite with god- leaving no room for earthly marriage. The Brothers and Sisters led an austere life- eating only once a day- and then only eating bread, fruits and vegetables. Their nights were spent sleeping on narrow benches with a block of wood as a pillow. From midnight to 2:00 a.m., they were rousted up to watch for Jesus to return “as a thief in the night”. So, without much sleep or much to eat, they spent their days farming, milling and running a printing press. 
We pulled into the driveway and were met by a very strange looking man- short, scrawny, cigarette smoking in dusty jeans and an old t-shirt- who appeared to either be on drugs or high on A LOT of caffine. He welcomed us into the house/inn, thinking that we were incoming guests to the inn. Once we explained that we were just interested in getting some history and information on the Whitmers, he started pulling out books and pamphlets on the inn and the family. He sat us down at a table still littered with food—cantelope slices, small boxes of sugary cereals and one of those grocery store coffee cakes still in plastic wrap. It took us a while to realize that this spread was his B&B offering for his guests. The room was packed with stuff- old newspapers, magazines, books lying in stacks all around the room.
We actually found the family connection in one of the genealogies that our new friend gave us. After trying to take notes on the lineage, we realized that we needed a copy of the document. Leaving me behind as “collateral”, John went back to the motorhome to make copies. While I sat and poured through the other documents, Grant would bounce in and out of the room. I got stories about his father, the archeological digs in their backyard and details on his various “antiques”. He’d leave for awhile, go into the next room and I’d hear him talking to someone or something- I assumed it was an animal. After a while, I started having visions of Grant as a serial killer, holding a hostage behind the door. FINALLY, John came back. I was ready to leave- but Grant wanted to give us the tour of the house. We got the full tour of the rooms, an explanation of his “renovations” and a request to “put in a good word with the tourist bureau”. Evidently he gets a few complaints.
In between all the research and encounters with strange and wonderful characters, we made a trip to York, PA, home of the largest Harley Davidson assembly plant. Here they assemble the touring and soft-tail models as well as doing custom work. Their list of products is a bit like a Starbucks menu….fat boy electra glide, heritage soft-tail classic…. The plant was huge-with over 1.5 million square feet under roof. Interestingly, most of the assembly work was done by women-with robots doing a lot of the other work.After the tour, we stopped at the Eastern Market in York- and chowed down on a typical Pennsylvania style meal- a huge chicken pot pie. Nothing like chicken and gravy in the middle of the day to make you feel completely lethargic. Add to that, the horrendously hot and humid weather, and you have quite a combination.
To make the Amish seem normal, we went to the Ephrata Cloister. Founded in 1732, this was one of America’s earliest communal societies. The community- composed of “households”- families living on nearby farms- and the 80 celibate Brothers and Sisters. They came together following a charismatic leader from Germany, Conrad Beissel. Beissel believed in Saturday as the main day of worship and a God with a male and female side (the female side was Sophia)-and a desire to unite with god- leaving no room for earthly marriage. The Brothers and Sisters led an austere life- eating only once a day- and then only eating bread, fruits and vegetables. Their nights were spent sleeping on narrow benches with a block of wood as a pillow. From midnight to 2:00 a.m., they were rousted up to watch for Jesus to return “as a thief in the night”. So, without much sleep or much to eat, they spent their days farming, milling and running a printing press. 
They were known for their style of calligraphic writing called Frakturschriften.
At night, those who could sing practice for the choir; those who couldn’t sing, would spent their time doing large calligraphic wall hangings. Beissel promised the second coming of Jesus in his lifetime- so when he died, the community declined and in 1813, the last celibate died.
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