Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into Pennsylvania (33 page)

The fire gained national attention in 1981 when the ground collapsed beneath a local boy named Todd Domboski, dropping him into a hole four feet wide and about 150 feet deep. His cousin pulled him out, but when a government inspector examined the sinkhole afterward, he concluded that if Todd had not been rescued so quickly, the carbon monoxide would have killed him in minutes.

As residents of the town realized the peril of the advancing fire, they couldn't agree on how to handle the problem. Some people wanted to move but needed government aid to unload their now-worthless property. Others felt that if they could raise the money, it might still be possible to extinguish the fire.

Still others believed the threat of the fire was just an elaborate hoax perpetuated by the government. The reasoning: In 1954, Congress had passed a law that made the owners of old coal mines responsible for half of the expense of the mines' cleanup. Before the fire, the Coates Coal Company, the original owner of Centralia's mines, had decided to dodge the liability by selling the rights for the vein under Centralia to the town for one dollar; Coates would continue to excavate and
manage the mine. Centralia residents had seen this as a windfall—proceeds from the sale of the coal under Centralia could potentially bring billions of dollars. But now, with a fire burning beneath them, Centralia's residents were legally responsible for half the cost of the cleanup—a cost they couldn't afford. Some believed the mine fire was a ploy by government officials to reclaim the land and mine the coal themselves.

But most residents just wanted to move away, and in 1983, the federal government finally approved $42 million to buy them out. Almost all of the 1,100 residents took the offer, and their homes were demolished after they left. When the state invoked eminent domain a decade later, most of the 80 people who'd stayed behind finally left. The remaining dozen residents, most over 60 years old, have slowly dispersed over the years.

The mine fire still rages today—it advances about 75 feet a year. There are no current plans to put it out, and geologists estimate that it could continue to burn for another 250 years until it consumes all of Centralia's anthracite. The town has become a popular destination for tourists who ignore warning signs at the edge of a field that still emits toxic gas. They even drive down the abandoned Route 61 to snap photos. In the end, the fire caused no human deaths; its only casualty was the town of Centralia. According to Helen Womer, one of the last residents to leave, “Centralia committed suicide.”

How well do you know the history of Pennsylvania's most prestigious university? (Sorry, Penn State grads.)

1.
When was the University of Pennsylvania founded?

A. 1740

B. 1749

C. 1751

D. 1755

2.
Which Founding Father helped found Penn?

A. Robert Morris

B. Benjamin Rush

C. George Clymer

D. Benjamin Franklin

3.
What's Penn's motto?

A.
Vox clamantis in deserto

B.
Leges sine moribus vanae

C.
Dei sub numine viget

D.
In Deo speramus

4.
When did Penn join the Ivy League?

A. 1755

B. 1852

C. 1945

D. 1954

5.
Which U.S. president attended Penn?

A. Grover Cleveland

B. Millard Fillmore

C. William Henry Harrison

D. James Buchanan

6.
Which famous computer was built at Penn?

A. UNIVAC

B. ENIAC

C. The Colossus

D. The TRS-80 Model I

Answers on
page 307
.

 

 

The colonists had fought the Revolutionary War and cut the cord with England. Now, all they needed to do was figure out the new country's operating instructions
.

W
ithin eight days of approving the Declaration of Independence in 1776, the Continental Congress in Philadelphia set itself a new task: writing the Articles of Confederation, a document whose rules would guide the new nation. Unfortunately, the rules they came up with didn't work very well. The biggest problem was that, because the delegates were afraid of duplicating what they considered England's tyranny, the Articles of Confederation didn't create a strong central government; it left most of the power up to the individual states. But without any authority, the federal government couldn't do much—in particular, it couldn't tax its citizens to raise money for an army. The government was able to ignore this problem for several years, but in 1786, it suddenly found that it needed that army. And not to fight off a foreign threat, but to put down a rebellion right there at home.

By 1786, most farmers in New England were drowning in debt. They'd fought against England, and when the Revolutionary War was over, they headed home with little or no money to show for their efforts. The new government had issued them promissory notes, but they couldn't actually use those to buy anything. And
when they arrived home, they found that their families were also in trouble; most of the rural areas' supplies and livestock had been sold aid to the war effort (and paid for with more promissory notes). As the new country plunged into an economic depression, the states began taxing residents to raise money. Faced with the need to feed their families and keep their land, the farmers racked up debts that they had no way of repaying.

Burdened with tax debts of their own, the wealthy businessmen and merchants who'd loaned the farmers money started demanding that the debts be repaid. When the farmers couldn't pay, the businessmen confiscated the farmers' land and assets. In some cases, the farmers were sent to debtors' prison.

In the fall of 1786, a Massachusetts farmer named Daniel Shays had had enough. He and hundreds of other disgruntled farmers banded together to stage an uprising, demanding that the state relieve their debts and protect their assets. When they got no real response, they blockaded the debtors' courts so court cases could not be heard. Shays then led the men to the federal arsenal in Springfield, Massachusetts, determined to storm the building and steal weapons. But a militia raised by the governor beat Shays to the arsenal and fired on the angry farmers, killing several.

As news of the rebellion spread, the wealthy business owners and politicians in Boston had little sympathy for the farmers. The Massachusetts governor called the farmers “knaves and thieves,” and founding father Sam Adams demanded that they be put to death for treason. The very fact that the United States had to deal with a rebellion so soon after winning its independence was seen as an embarrassment for the new country. Many
in the government were worried that the violence would spread and lead to anarchy.

The men of Shays' Rebellion disbanded and hid until a general amnesty in 1788 convinced most of them to turn themselves in. Two men were executed, but many others were eventually pardoned. Even while the rebellion was going on, though, the members of the Congress of the Confederation in New York (formerly the Continental Congress) knew something needed to be done. Their primary concern was that, because the country had no strong central authority, there had been no federal army to put down the rebellion.

The states could send their militias, but many of the men in the militias were the very farmers who were in open revolt. So in the spring of 1787, all the states but one sent delegates to Philadelphia. The exception was Rhode Island, which was worried about losing some of its autonomy, in particular that the new congress would create a central money supply to replace the states' money—and the delegates did do that.

The convention began in May, with Benjamin Franklin as the official host. (Franklin was 81 years old and so frail that prisoners from the Walnut Street jail carried him in a sedan chair to and from the State House.) Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence, was absent—he was serving as ambassador to France.

George Washington, retired from the army and living on his Virginia plantation, had to be persuaded to attend. He was deeply troubled by the situation, saying, “I am mortified beyond expression when I view the clouds that have spread over the brightest morn that ever dawned in any country . . . What a triumph
for the advocates of despotism, to find that we are incapable of governing ourselves and that systems founded on the basis of equal liberty are merely ideal and fallacious.” But Washington had gravitas, and the convention would be taken seriously only if he were present. Plus, Shays' Rebellion showed him that the country needed a strong central government. So he came.

At first, the delegates were charged with the task of revising the Articles of Confederation. But some of them thought it would be better to start over. James Madison of Virginia came prepared with a plan for a written constitution that included a government very much like the one the United States has today: a legislative branch that included a house of representative and a senate, a chief executive who could veto the legislature, and an appointed judicial branch. The states would send representatives to the legislature based on population—the bigger the state, the more representatives it would have.

Madison's proposal (called the Virginia Plan) ran into resistance because it favored the more populated states. So New Jersey delegate William Paterson countered with a plan that gave all states equal representation in both houses of Congress. (New Jersey was a small state.)

The delegates couldn't agree, so Connecticut's representatives stepped in. They suggested an upper house (the Senate) that had two legislators from each state, and a lower house (the House of Representatives) that varied in size, depending on each state's population. Still, questions remained: How would a state's population be tallied? Would slaves count? After much debate, the convention decided that each African American man would count
as three-fifths of a person. Women and American Indians were excluded.

By mid-July, the delegates had agreed to a rough version of the United States Constitution. Not every question had been settled, but five men were appointed to write up the document based on their notes of the debates. (The rest of the delegates took a 10-day vacation.) The authors who stayed behind in Philadelphia included two men from the South (John Rutledge and Edmund Randolph), two from the North (Oliver Ellsworth and Nathaniel Gorham), and one from the “middle” (James Wilson of Pennsylvania). On August 6, Rutledge announced that a document was ready.

Over the next five weeks, the delegates debated, refined, and tinkered with the phrasing. Some issues, like how to elect the president, were handed over to committees. At the end of the summer, a new group of five was selected and tasked with writing up the final document. Gouverneur Morris of Pennsyl-vania did most of that work, with the help of James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, Rufus King, and William Johnson, the president of Columbia College in New York. The final document went back to the convention on September 12.

There was little argument this time. Benjamin Franklin delivered the following statement: “Thus I consent, sir, to this Constitution, because I expect no better, and because I am not sure that it is not the best.” The other delegates agreed, and the document was complete.