#roney'spoint

While growing up in the Triadelphia area I was always fascinated by many of the historical sites and buildings that I observed on my daily travels. Entering the town and seeing the welcome signs which announce Triadelphia as the oldest town in West Virginia always made my mind wonder what this area would have been like to live in over 200 years ago. Triadelphia was incorporated on July 29, 1829, as the Village of Triadelphia by the Commonwealth of Virginia. Wheeling would not be incorporated until 1836. Just the meaning of the town's name alone is quite interesting too. The origin of Triadelphia’s name is derived from three settlers, Jonathan Link, Presley Peak, and William Hawkins who were killed by a band of 20 Indians along Middle Wheeling Creek in 1781.As I explain to my History of Wheeling students at Wheeling Park High School, “The tri-part of the name is easy to figure out, but what does adelphia mean?” Wheeling has a strong Greek heritage and every year a few students always speak up and say “adelphia means brother!” And there you go, Triadelphia is named after three friends or “brothers” who perished there during the frontier era.While traveling east through Triadelphia on the National Road you can find historic brick homes dating back to the early days of the National Road, remnants of the old Valley Camp Coal mine, and shortly after you encounter the unincorporated area of Roney’s Point.The Old Stone House at the corner was a tavern that dates back to 1818, but has since been demolished.The LegendsRoney’s Point is sort of a junction that connects you to Dallas Pike Road and, of course, what most people know today as a backway to The Highlands or Interstate 70. Roney’s Point, though, is so much more. I’m sure many of you notice the Old Stone House at the corner that dates back to 1818 as a tavern. It’s since been demolished, but there were also two other structures nearby that housed travelers. There was also the old Southern States Co-Op that served farmers and residents throughout the area, and when the railroad was still running deliveries could be picked up at Roney’s Point.Only remnants of the Schmulbach Mansion remain on Roney's Point these days.At the junction of Roney’s Point, if you turn onto Point Run Road after a short ride you will encounter Country Farm Road which leads you to the ruins of an estate that was once owned by Henry Schmulbach. After his death the property was sold to the county and used as a poor farm, tuberculosis hospital, and later a mental hospital was built on site.I plan on telling more of the Schmulbach story another time, but for this article I would like to focus on the Roney’s Point Cemetery that is located on four acres of the property. Residents of the Ohio County poor farm, tuberculosis hospital, and paupers were buried in this cemetery starting sometime after 1916. Approximately 59 graves that were moved from the Peninsula Cemetery in Wheeling were also reinterred at Roney’s Point to make room for Interstate 70 just east of the tunnels in 1964.I had visited the cemetery for the first time on May 8, 2008, and after doing some more research recently of the property I was motivated to see what has changed in the cemetery since then.This is how the entrance to the County Farm Cemetery appeared on May 2008.Resting SoulsIn 2008, the gates still remained the entrance to the cemetery.So, on a warm May Spring day, I parked along Point Run Road with Brittany Fehr as my extra pair of eyes to locate the cemetery and explore. At the base of the cemetery, we walked through a small field. Someone had recently mowed a wide path through it which made walking through this part easy. In this field, I remember seeing a few grave markers, but on this day we could not locate them. As you enter the woods and walk the path which was probably once a small road used to maintain the cemetery we found small cement markers with numbers on them. The markers appear as if they were tossed about on the ground, but after further examination, most have been disturbed from the growth of trees, brush, and years of neglect. Our hike into the woods was more difficult than my first visit in 2008. Fallen trees and the overgrowth of briers made the trek a challenge. I was convinced that I led us too far into the woods and missed the grave markers I saw in 2008. We persistently kept pushing forward, though, and were able to discover an area that Brittany could tell that at one time was probably a clearing of property. After pushing through more brush we were able to discover small metal markers designating the location of those reinterred at Roney’s Point from the Peninsula Cemetery.A walk through this brush lead to Peninsula Cemetery grave markersThe metal markers read “Unknown - Peninsula Cemetery - Grave # 713,” for example. These markers represent some of the 59 graves that were removed from the Peninsula and relocated to Roney’s Point. What has always struck me as odd is why the markers say “unknown.” Glenna Dillion’s Book, The Cemeteries of Ohio County provides a description and history of the cemetery, along with a list of those buried at the cemetery. Grave #713 is not unknown at all. It represents John Bartkovich who was interred on October 19, 1966. The records also state that he was not an inmate and White.Bartkovich was born on June 24, 1892 in Poland, served in the Polish army, and his death certificate indicates that he spent most of his life as a coal miner. He resided at 2148 Main Street at his time of death. It was unknown if he was married or widowed when he passed away. What remains a mystery is why the marker says Peninsula Cemetery when his death certificate says he was interred at the Roney’s Point Cemetery. It’s likely he was interred at Roney’s Point as a pauper, although that fact is not specified anywhere.This is one of only a few grave sites that has remained in clear view.Another interesting point to make about those buried at the Roney’s Point Cemetery is the story of Lucy Zantanna. Zantanna has a monument at the cemetery that is dated 1913, the year that Schmulbach moved into his Roney’s Point mansion. Zantanna died April 22, 1913 in the rear of a home at 1204 McColloch Street. She was married, a housewife, and died from food poisoning. Zantanna ate raw oysters that had been kept in the family refrigerator Saturday afternoon until late Sunday without ice. According to her obituary, “When they were removed it is said they had a disagreeable odor but Mrs. Zantanna ate them, although others refused to do so.” Within a few hours she became ill; a doctor was called who made every effort to save her, but she died shortly after. Zantanna was just 25 years old.Zantanna was interred at the Peninsula Cemetery. Zantanna’s monument must have been moved around 1964 to Roney’s Point. What remains a mystery is where all monuments moved, and what is the story with those metal markers?Upon further research, Zantanna had a 6-month-old child that died March 22, 1911 and was interred in the Peninsula Cemetery. Zantanna’s husband John remarried in 1915 and moved to his wife's hometown in Pennsylvania. What’s unknown is where Zantanna’s daughter is now buried. Still in the Peninsula Cemetery? Possibly moved to another local cemetery? Records indicate she was not reinterred at Roney’s Point. This is another mystery for Brittany and me to solve.A good portion of the Peninsula Cemetery, one of the oldest in the city, was removed to make way for the interstate.The Road Goes ThroughIn September of 1963, it was announced in 60 days 1,100 graves would be disinterred by 14 experts in the field of moving graves to make room for Interstate 70 just east of Wheeling Tunnel. According to state law, it was also required that a certified mortician be on hand to oversee the project. Cemeteries used for reinterment included Greenwood, Mt. Olivet, Mt. Zion, and the county graveyard at Roney’s Point. The article stated that a marker would be placed on each grave at its new location, known or unknown. It was also stated that all monuments would be reset on new foundations. That movement probably occurred in late 1963 and was finished in 1964.Glenna Dillon’s research revealed that the last internment according to Ohio County records at Roney’s Point was in 1987, but her research all discovered internments as late as 1993.Although the current state of the cemetery is in poor condition, it would be much worse if it weren't for the efforts of Gary Kestner. In 1998, Kester spearheaded a movement to clean up the cemetery grounds and make an effort to keep the gravesites clear of future brush and tree growth. Kester sought help from the local community with clean-up, restoration of the wrought iron gate, and a new sign was placed at the entrance.Today, the sign and gate are gone, and every year the woods claim a little more of the cemetery's history.This is just a small glimpse of the history that surrounds the Triadelphia and Roney’s Point area. I plan on researching future topics about this area and the Roney’s Point Cemetery. In my eyes, the cemetery is important because it tells the story of the sick, the unknown, the poor, those who succumbed to tragedy. Their story is important and it must be told and remembered.Ryan Stanton is a 2002 graduate of Wheeling Park High School. In 2006, he graduated from West Liberty State College with a bachelor’s degree in history and later earned a master’s degree in social studies education from West Virginia University. For 12 years, Ryan has been a social studies teacher at Wheeling Park High School where he teaches college-level U.S. Government and Politics and the History of Wheeling. Read the full article

He was a mere 8-year-old child when his parents, Johan and Anna Elizabeth Schmulbach, joined another family to depart Germany for the United States.The Schmulbachs settled in Wheeling as did thousands of other German immigrants because not only did the region have German-language newspapers and several relevant singing societies, but employment also was in ample supply to hard-working men and, in some cases, male children. Henry Schmulbach was such a young man and at the age of 10 he accepted a cabin boy position on a steamboat offered by an uncle, George Fellers.Once the Civil War began in early 1861, Schmulbach left the waterway at 17 years old to open a grocery store in the area now recognized as Centre Market. He sold the retail business operation three years later and briefly returned to the steamboat industry, but according to information listed in the Ohio County Public Library archives, it was in 1865 when Schmulbach got his first taste of the alcohol business in the Upper Ohio Valley.“By all accounts, Henry Schmulbach was a very motivated young man,” said local historian Ryan Stanton, an educator at Wheeling Park High School. “I’ve not found any documents or direct quotes about his thirst for money, but his early work history certainly appears to have something of a start as far as his wish to collect as much wealth as possible.“Henry must have been a saver in his early years, too, because it’s apparent he jumped from one industry to the other and not as an employee but as an owner,” he explained. “That trend continued, too, with everything he did until he died in 1915. Schmulbach was always in charge, and if he wasn’t when he first got involved with something new, his role always changed very quickly to titles like president and chairman.”Henry Schmulbach, Brewer, Banker (Photo from the Ohio County Public Library Archives.)A perfect example of such a movement involved the German Bank of Wheeling. Again, the OCPL’s archived obituary for Schmulbach reveals why the entrepreneur targeted the institution in his late 30s.“This bank owes its life to Mr. Schmulbach. The bank was incorporated in the late '40s and grew steadily until 1879. In that year a failure of the tobacco crop, in which much of its resources were invested, caused it to meet severe losses.”In the very beginning, Schmulbach and bank president Chester D. Hubbard opposed the bank board's decision to suspend operations, and soon later Schmulbach took over as the bank’s president.“One of the main focuses for Schmulbach later in his life was the German Bank of Wheeling. Everything I have seen about that stage of his life allows me to believe that the bank was one of the great points of pride of his life,” Stanton reported. “Of course, the German Bank of Wheeling is now known as Wesbanco Bank, so he must have built something that has lasted through the years when many banks have not. I think it speaks to the due diligence that he displays with everything he did both professionally and for recreation. He made sure he did everything the right way.“By all accounts, I’ve seen, that’s how he went about everything beginning when he was young through his 70 years here,” he said. “I believe his life is the true story of realizing the American dream as it was presented to immigrants at the time he moved to the United States as a child.”Schmulbach was a ahead of his time when marketing his brewery products in local newspapers in the late 1800s.A Brewer’s Death NailIn the 1912 general election, after years of effort by state lawmakers, a majority vote by 92,342 Mountain State residents cast ballots in favor of prohibition, which became state law at midnight on June 30, 1914.It was not until Dec. 5, 1933, when the 21st Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was ratified and effectively repealed nationwide prohibition, and West Virginia was the 15th state to vote in favor of repeal. Schmulbach, and his brewery, however, already had been dead for nearly 20 years. “When lawmakers in West Virginia approved prohibition, that had to have broken Schmulbach’s heart because he had worked so hard to establish what he did in the brewing business. At first, his board of directors tried to relocate the brewery to Ohio, but that never materialized, and I believe part of the reason why was because Henry and the others were so well off at that point that they let it go,” Stanton said. “To the employees of the brewery and the employees of all the other connected businesses, it had to be devastating, but for a guy like Schmulbach, he had so much wealth and so many other businesses that he really didn’t need to brew beer anymore.The majority of the front of the mansion was lost in a fire that took place on the property in 1972.“But it still had to hurt. It was what he was really known for,” the historian considered. “They had a lager, a porter, and a crown ale that were very, very popular, and they had some seasonal beers as well for certain times of the year. The man loved his heritage and that’s why when the fall rolled around, he brewed and distributed an Oktoberfest beer that was said to be very good,” he said. “Schmulbach was also a master marketing guy, and it was obvious he had a lot of fun with it.”Of course, Henry Schmulbach succeeded in establishing yet another “first” despite having died following a year of poor health.“There was a time when a person could take a trolley from downtown Wheeling to Roney’s Point, and when Schmulbach died, they had the funeral up here, and they had special trolley service to get everyone to the service. By all accounts, that service was a very big deal,” Stanton said. “Henry actually had the first funeral procession that was led by automobiles. The very first ever in the Wheeling area.“Not only was this guy an entrepreneur and the first person to do a lot of different things, but he was a very driven man to set a lot of standards in this area. The Schmulbach Building, which is now known more as the Wheeling-Pittsburgh headquarters, is an example of how he went about it the right way,” he said. “That’s why seeing the mansion the way it is now with so much of it missing and all of the vandalism and graffiti that’s taken place is a pretty sad thing to me.”Many explorers believe the Schmulback Mansion was once the mental asylum on Roney's Point, but that facility is on up the road.The WidowWhen Pauline Bertschy Schmulbach passed away several years after her husband’s death, her estate was valued at more than half a million dollars, a figure that would exceed $8 million today.That estate, however, did not include the family’s property at Roney’s Point because she had sold it to Ohio County for $125,000 in 1917.“She didn’t want to live there, not even when Henry was alive,” Stanton insisted. “Not only did Henry and Pauline know each other from their church, but she was the hostess at the family funeral parlor. She was a very social lady, so living out in the middle of nowhere like Roney’s Point was back then never appealed to her. She did it, but once she could sell, she did. “But back then, very soon after the Great Depression hit, Ohio County utilized the land as the county poor farm. The men of the county would go there and work the farm so they could earn some of the food they produced there, and they also earned a few bucks each day that they were able to take home to help with their families.”The inside of the mansion has been vandalized on many occasions through the years.Some of the men, Stanton said, would live on the property, too, and the county established the County Farm Cemetery for the interments of those who passed away during those years. The graveyard later was utilized for the patients who passed away at the hospital, and those who simply wished to use the yard as their final resting place.Most of the graves today, however, are unmarked, and the gas and oil industries as well as flooding have left the cemetery completely unmarked.“That’s just an example of everything else that has happened to the Schmulbach property at Roney’s Point,” Stanton said with disappointment. “His Chapline Street home has been preserved, and it’s now in a protected block with other beautiful Victorian houses, and the brewery building still stands, too, and the Schmulbach Building is pretty much known as the Wheeling-Pitt building now because the steel company had several floors of it for its headquarters for a lot of years.“But with all my research on Henry Schmulbach, I have always had the impression that it was the Roney’s Point property he was most proud of because it was where he could take all of his hobbies and have fun with them,” the historian added. “But then it was all allowed to just rot, so I guess, it’s gone the same way the American dream has through the years.”(Photography by Michael Novotney)