*** Continued from PART ONE, which you can read HERE.
I have to thank my eldest son for being a typically bratty almost-14-year-old. After we woke up from our starless night under the stars, he demanded a “real” breakfast at a restaurant. If he hadn’t violently balked at my suggestion to just order some scrambled eggs and waffles from the cute little trailer at Cherry Springs State Park, we would have missed out on a truly inspired adventure.
(I was a irritated by his shabby manners, though. We were in public, next to the aforementioned food trailer, when he began to put on his teen angst display. I’d have been mortified if the young ladies serving up the food heard him proclaiming what total crap they were dishing out. So I acted fast to duck out from the scene, and told my son to be more considerate of the people around him. Ah, parenthood!)
I wasn’t opposed to looking for a “real” breakfast place, in theory. In practice though, I was a little worried about how I was supposed to find one out in the middle of the woods. I had copied the names of three suggested dining locales from the Black Forest Star Party’s web site, but I don’t have a GPS in my car, and the MapQuest map I’d printed out was pretty bare-bones.
The elderly couple who had the day before occupied an Information Tent were long gone, so no help there. And a most of the party attendees were still asleep in their tents, likely depressed at having traveled from as far as Canada with their massive telescopes, only to catch a view of absolute zilch.
Luckily, we bumped into a jovial, white-bearded elder astronomer on our way from the food trailer back to my car. “You look like a volunteer!” he belted out, Santa-like, as we approached. He was looking right at Mikey, who he then neatly recruited to help take down a small wireless internet antennae he’d set up for the party.
“Astronomer Santa” was very friendly, telling us about his Swedish heritage and rewarding Mikey’s helpful gesture with some rough directions to a restaurant “about 15 miles up the road” where he’d eaten dinner the night before. There was no guarantee this place would be open for breakfast, but at least it was in a populated town, so we decided to head towards it to see what we could find.
When we got back to my car, I zeroed out the handy mileage tracker on the dash so I could keep tabs on our relative distance, and off we went. As we drove away from the park, we waved a cheerful goodbye to the spot where the family that had thrown dirty looks at us the day before had camped out.
The old Swedish gentleman’s directions turned out to be pretty good, because about 20 minutes later, after winding our way around a beatific little expanse called “Sweden Valley” (which of course made us chuckle), we found ourselves in the town of Coudersport, PA. And lo and behold, right off the main street downtown was a little diner called The Maple Tree, flying a big “Breakfast” banner out front. They even had cell phone service on the sidewalk.
After a quick call home to mom, we decided to stretch our legs and investigate the town a bit before getting food. It turned out to be a surprisingly fascinating journey.
The first thing to really catch our eye was this incredible old Victorian house, all boarded up and crumbling on the corner. It looked haunted, firing our curiosity about the history of Coudersport, which looked pretty beat down.
As we trekked a few blocks, we saw plenty of decay.
Not a lot happening on main street…
No bowling this week…
Never got to hear a local broadcast…if there even is one anymore…
God just might have some bargain properties for sale here…
You know you’re in a town where people are being pushed to new levels of creativity to stay afloat when you see a storefront like Bruzzi’s. How many dry cleaners can you visit where you can rent a tuxedo, AND buy a computer at the same time?
I was glad my kids had the chance to walk around here, experiencing firsthand that not every place in America looks like the thriving college town where they’ve lived all their lives. (I really need to travel with them more.)
I was particularly amazed to cross a 30-foot bridge across the Allegheny River, which at this far Northern point looked more like an over-sized stream than the massive waterway I grew up next to just outside of Pittsburgh.
The corner of a dilapidated house hung out over the edge of its flow, as if it was about to dip a toe in. Totally surreal.
It was all very engrossing, but we were getting a little hungry, and decided that after another block or two we’d turn around to investigate the Maple Tree’s menu. And then we made the most startling discovery.
We looked across the street and saw….
…this thing.
Quite a building. On this block, the Taj Mahal would have been no more incongruous a sight.
The first thing that popped into my head the moment I caught a glimpse of it was “Prison; that must be a prison…” Of course, when I took a closer look, I realized that didn’t make any sense.
“Hey, what the hell do you think THAT is?” I called out.
“I don’t know…!?!?”
We all walked across the street to have a closer look; things just got more mysterious. There were no signs on or around this behemoth to indicate what it was. The windows were all mirrored glass that we couldn’t see through at all. The doors were locked. However, there was a small note by the front door indicating that the only working entrance was around back. We slowly made our way around to check it all out.
“Look at those pillars,” we marveled, “And all the ornamentation…it looks like a brand new building that’s trying to be old and classy. But it’s just…weird!”
“Is it a library?” “An old folks home?” “I don’t know, but let’s go around back to see what’s there.” “OK!” We decided breakfast could wait a bit longer.
“Holy crap. Look at that GATE!” “But there’s nothing in the courtyard behind it but grass.”
As we walked around to the rear, passing by the strangely empty courtyard, we began to dream up possible scenarios about what might be going on behind all that mirrored glass.
“Do you think it’s the Illuminati?” “Yeah, maybe they’re doing secret rituals in that place!” “I bet they’re doing experiments on people. You know, testing out drugs and stuff where nobody can see what they’re doing.”
When we reached the back door, it was every bit as ostentatious as the pillar-framed one in front. The glass archway towered over us imperiously, a hundred-feet high. It wasn’t mirrored though, and we eagerly approached to gaze through the windows for clues.
Alas, there was narry a sign or logo in sight to indicate the purpose of this peculiar palace. And the double glass doors were just as locked in back as the front door has been around front. However, peering through we gathered a few more details.
It was like gazing upon the secret chambers of some elite society of overlords, with the polished marble floor and gorgeous hardwood walls. And off in the distance, across the improbably tall, naturally-lit hallway, there was a solid brass elevator door.
“Whoah. Where do you think that leads?” “Maybe the President comes out here through an underground tunnel for secret meetings.” “Yeah, maybe he comes here to get breakfast at the Maple Tree. He loves that place!”
We all laughed.
Just to the left of the double doors, a small floor plan hung on the wall, in an elegant wooden frame.
There wasn’t a single number or name attached to any of the rooms. There were three different areas shaded three different pastel colors, but no indication of what these colors denoted.
The only words on the document related to a map key with a single icon-marked feature. It read, ‘YOU ARE HERE.’
Well, we already knew that. But where the hell IS here?
There was one last side of the building to explore, and it featured a loading deck that apparently allowed trucks to deliver large items to be lowered underground on a platform, then taken through another set of doors (also locked). I didn’t get any pictures of this spot, but there was an old-fashioned phone on the wall to dial into the building, and on the door was a piece of paper listing the names of several people with phone numbers next to them.
This just drove out imaginations wild. All the way back to The Maple Tree, we continued to make up crazy stories. Within 15 minutes, we were there, ready to chow down.
Even at the restaurant, things were pretty freaky.
There was a purple piano to the left of the door, with a chair in front of it. Someone had painted “play me” on it, but only five black keys worked, and none of the white ones.
To top it off, just to the right of the door, there was a theremin, of all crazy things. That’s the instrument that makes the spooky sound on the Beach Boys track “Good Vibrations.” You play it by moving your hands around in the air between two little metal antennae-type thingies. The Maple Tree’s theremin made no noise though. Just for show, I guess.
Once inside, we were soon seated and ordering a delicious, if fattening breakfast. At the Maple Tree, pancakes are called hot cakes, and my kids enjoyed them with blueberries and chocolate chips, respectively. Mikey and I both went with omelets. But all we really wanted though, even more than food, was to find out “What the hell is that building down the street???”
After we placed our order I consulted with Mikey on the best approach for gently interrogating our waitress. “Ask her if it’s a library,” he suggested.
“Right on.”
When she returned to freshen up out coffee, I nonchalantly inquired, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
‘That REALLY BIG building down the street a little ways — the one with all the glass…is that a library?”
“THAT would be nice, wouldn’t it?” she answered. “No, that’s the old Adelphia headquarters.”
“AAAAAAAH,” said Mikey and me.
“Yes,” she went on. “After the bankruptcy, they closed it down, and now it’s just sitting there empty. You know, the parents started up a local cable business back in 1952, and then the brothers took it over and built it up. Of course, now one of them is in jail with his father.”
“Wow,” we said. “Thanks.”
I could say I was disappointed that she didn’t say something more Hollywood (“Nobody goes in, and nobody come out, but we hear strange sounds in the middle of the night…”) or if she had just dropped the coffee pot and gone scurrying away. But actually, it was pretty moving to hear the real story. It just made me want to know more…about the town, and the family, and the whole deal.
In case you didn’t know, Adelphia became the fifth largest cable company in the United States, before filing for bankruptcy in 2002 when John and Timothy Rigas were convicted of stealing 100 million dollars from their own companies. Before the business folded, we had Adelphia cable at our house. And I have to say, it was pretty good and relatively cheap.
“We’ve got to go back for one more look.”
After we’d stuffed ourselves silly and thanked the waitress, we took a last little digestion stroll, to prepare for our two-and-a-half hour drive home. “Well guys,” I said. “Now I know why I thought it was a prison at first.”
“Oh, shut up Dad, you’re not psychic.”
“Yeah, well all I know is, I get strong feelings and images about things some times, that I can’t explain.’
Before my teenager could give me any more lip, we noticed something we’d totally missed before.
Right there, next door to that wildly palatial monument to corporate greed, was a humble little building that looked entirely at home in this worn down town — every bit as typical and ordinary as the building next to it was outrageous and astounding.
It was the Coudersport Tv Cable Co., and after everything we’d just heard it looked, well…
…what can I say, really?
We walked back to the car a little quieter, just letting it sink in.
“Wow, man,” I finally said. “You know, Mikey, that place is a perfect metaphor for everything that’s gone wrong in America since we were the age these guys are now.
That crazy drive to just be the biggest and the best and the richest at all costs, you know? And to go back to your home town and build that thing to just say to everybody, LOOK AT ME! LOOK WHAT I HAVE!”
“Yeah,” Mikey replied,” and it didn’t look like too much of that money got spread around to help out the rest of the town either.”
No. It sure didn’t.
As we re-entered the forest to wind our way back South to the immortal crooning of Roy Orbison, we made one last stop — at a scenic viewing point with a little parking area that we’d noticed on our way up the day before.
“Hey, let’s take a couple pictures before we go home.”
We got out and did the best we could to capture the magnificent beauty that stretched out before us for miles and miles and miles — without a single man-made structure in sight.
So this is why the skies are so dark at night up here…
After all we’d just seen, it was a powerful reminder that nature just lays out a raw and magnificent (if fickle) canvas upon which to live. What we choose to paint upon it… that is up to us.
“All Summer, I’d planned to spend a glorious weekend contemplating the awesome nature of the Heavens Above…
… instead we ended up equally awed by what’s happening all around us, right down here on Earth.”
