The Miller-McGuire House, Somerset, PA (Part 1)

The Miller-McGuire house at it looked in the 1960s.

 

A stately brick house built before the turn of the 20^th Century still stands in the 300 block of West Main Street in Somerset, Pennsylvania. It was purchased in 1921by my great grandfather, Lemon Miller. Long ago the property was divided up into three separate units, two of which are rented out.

Aunt Jenny

         

Lemon’s daughter, Jenny Lind Miller, worked as a teacher and occupied the third unit here, a ground floor apartment. (She was my great aunt, the younger sister of Mary (Miller) McGuire, my grandmother, whose daughter, Hilda, would become my mother.) Though she was my great aunt I always just called her “Aunt” Jenny. (She was named after Johanna Maria “Jenny” Lind, a Swedish opera singer, often known as the “Swedish Nightingale,” 1820-1887, who was one of the most highly regarded singers of the 19th Century.)

 

 

 

Mary (Miller) McGuire (1912)

                                                                                                                                                                

Jenny in 1912

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lemon Miller’s wife, Maggie (Brougher) Miller, had pre-deceased him many years back. Until his death in 1945 Aunt Jenny looked after her elderly father. If, per chance, he was not at home when she returned home from work, she always knew where to find him. Restless and homesick for the old family farm, he would grab his cane and start walking in the direction of Stoystown where it was located. Aunt Jenny would get in her car and find him somewhere along the route he always took.

 

 

Lemon Miller

Maggie (Brougher) Miller

Miss Jenny Miller never married. She started teaching in 1917 and taught the fourth grade for a long time in various Somerset elementary schools. Among them were Union St. School and Patriot St. School. (A recently discovered teachers contract dated 1937 indicates that she worked for the princely annual sum of $956.25!) Miss Miller retired in 1962 after 45 years of teaching. Undoubtedly, some of her students can still be found in the area. It would be a real pleasure to hear from Miss Miller’s former students and to hear their reminiscences of my dear old Aunt Jenny.

 

She was the favorite aunt of my mother’s sister, Aunt Janet, who also never married, whom I just called “Janet.” Janet first introduced me to Aunt Jenny. It must have been in the late 1950s when Janet drove me and a brother or two up from Maryland in her ’55 Ford. I remember our treks up here would always involve a ritual lunch stop in Hancock before continuing on through Breezewood and connecting up to the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Somerset seemed like a long way away back then. And on one of those trips, a tire blew out just before entering the Allegheny Tunnel. I recall Janet shuddering at the thought of what might have happened had the blowout occurred in the tunnel.

 

When we stayed  in Somerset, we slept in the living room on sturdy, fold-out Army cots. Unlike most cots of today, these were quite comfortable. On summer evenings we would all sit out on the front porch and talk. At that time there was a small bowling alley next door that had a pin ball machine. In the evenings the bowling alley was our refuge from the adults. My brothers and I would escape over there and toss many a quarter into that pin ball machine. During the day we walked a few blocks up the street to Somerset Drug Store for 5¢ candy bars (or had they gone up to 10¢ by then?

 

Every Christmas, envelopes would arrive from Aunt Jenny for us kids with $5 bills tucked into white envelopes. They had oval cut-outs so that only the portrait of President Lincoln was visible. I’m not sure whether these cash-gift envelopes exist anymore.

 

My earliest memories of Aunt Jenny were of a good and kindly, elderly woman, soft-spoken and gentle in her ways. She belonged to the Daughters of the American Revolution, tracing her lineage all the way back to Yost and Jeremiah Miller. These ancestors originally hailed from Ephrata and both had enlisted in the Revolutionary War effort to unyoke us from Great Britain. The family history is documented in a book entitled, A Brief History of Yost (Joseph) and Jeremiah Miller and their Descendants, authored by two judges, William H. Miller of Stoystown and John S. Miller of Somerset. It was published in1929 by Benshoff Printing Co., Johnstown, PA.

Family tree as depicted in the Miller book.

 

According to this book, Yost Miller’s descendants furnished 36 soldiers during the Civil War. Aunt Jenny’s grandfather was Samuel Miller, who had twelve sons and one daughter. Her uncles were known as “The Twelve Apostles,” and, as the local riddle went, it was said that “each brother had a sister.” Her Uncle Noah Miller was a member of Co. D, 142nd Regiment. He lost an eye at the battle of Gettysburg. Later he was promoted to captain of that company and went on to become a state senator. Uncle Gillian, a private in the same regiment, didn’t fare as well. He was wounded during the first day’s battle of Gettysburg and he died of his wounds 29 days later. Two other uncles, Samuel and Josiah Miller served in Co. G, 93rd Regiment.

 

In addition to soldiering, the descendants of the Joseph Miller branch were deeply devoted to teaching. The Miller Family book states that each of the Twelve Apostles were all educators, when not working the land on their farms.

 

My grandmother, Mary Miller, with her class (circa 1910).

Aunt Jenny was a God-fearing Lutheran. I still have her crucifix, as well as the Miller Family book. She and her older sisters, Mary and Anna, all attended California Normal School, a teacher training college. Here they received instruction in the norms of pedagogy and curriculum, and also studied music and singing. In 1910, when she was only 15 years old, Mary Miller began her teaching career in a “little red schoolhouse.” Some years later she would marry John L. McGuire of Latrobe, a Catholic. They often mentioned that they met in 1910 during an outing to watch Haley’s comet.  Both of my grandparents grew up on family farms, long since sold.

 

Upon retirement from teaching Aunt Jenny went on a trip around-the-world. I recall accompanying Janet and her to the docks in New York City where we dropped her off so she could board the Queen Mary to begin her world tour. For an old schoolmarm who spent her life in the parochial environs of Western Pennsylvania this must have been quite an adventure. When she returned, Aunt Jenny brought back medals of Pope Paul VI on key chains for us.

 

I remember an arcane fact about Aunt Jenny: she was awarded an honorary certificate issued by the Pennsylvania Department of Motor Vehicles for never having received as much as a parking ticket in over 50 years of driving!

 

In the mid-‘60s she visited us in Maryland. With Janet at the wheel, Aunt Jenny in the passenger seat, and me in the back, the three of us set out for Rockville to do some shopping. Seat belts were not quite in common usage back then. That day we were waiting to get into a left turn lane that had spilled out into the speed lane when another vehicle plowed into the back of our car. My aunts got really banged up. I remember Aunt Jenny, then about 70-years old, bouncing around off the dash board as we smashed into the car ahead of us. I got off with a bump on the head, but both of my aunts suffered serious injuries.

 

My Aunt Jenny never fully recovered from that accident. She died, reportedly of bone marrow cancer, in November, 1968. It was then that my grandmother, Mary McGuire, took over the management of the West Main Street property. Grandma never rented out Jenny’s old place. It was left vacant and not just for sentimental reasons. Jenny’s nephew, my Uncle Thomas McGuire, often occupied her old apartment until he passed away in 1991. Grandma finally gave up the ghost in 1993 at the ripe old age of 98.

 

Aunt Janet McGuire

From the early ‘90s onward the family property was managed by my Aunt Janet McGuire, who grew up in Latrobe (as did my mother). For many years she has lived in Chevy Chase, Maryland. (My mother, Hilda McGuire, married Fredric T. Suss, the son of Lebanese Christian immigrants, both of whom had been drawn to Washington, D.C. during service in the United States Navy. The Washington area is where I grew up.) Janet has always been an integral part of our Maryland family. She was separated from us only during the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, when she worked as the director of the USO in Manila and then in Rome. As an absentee landlord Janet handled things tolerably well. Managing a property from afar is no easy task, as those who have tried doing so know quite well. But as needs arose, Janet was able to draw on the assistance of some fine local tradesmen, who proved to be quite skilled and dependable.

 

In any event, the torch now seems to be passing to me. As tenants come and go and the weather beats down on the old place, there’s always something that needs attention. The apartments within have been improved over the years and they look fairly spiffy for a building whose footprint covers traces of the centuries before, and now after, the 20^th Century. Brick, and those old oak timbers and moldings, have held up amazingly well over time. In fact, a three-bedroom unit, consisting of the entire right side of the house, is presently up for rent. And, with any luck, the exterior will soon be well-restored as well. I am up here now staying with my cousin, Patrick McGuire, in another unit of the house while fixing it up. Pat retired here after 43 years of working for the American Postal Workers Union.

 

Sometime in the ’80s, I believe, the small bowling alley that used to be next door morphed into a Sheetz convenience store. Not long ago it was transformed yet again, this time into an eatery called Bad Boyz Bistro, now quite defunct. Across the street is the Rat Cage Garage. And next to that is Doherty Hardware, a 98-year going concern.

 

Jennifer Lynn (Suss) Gilmer

Yes, the 300-block of West Main Street could be a case study of what’s new, mixed-in with what’s old. Funny, the youngest of my five sisters bears the name “Jennifer.” Perhaps that was in honor of Aunt Jenny—and she would choose “Lynn” as her middle name. Is it a coincidence that the name “Jennifer Lynn” so closely resembles “Jenny Lind”? Some say there are no coincidences. All I know is that some great memories came out of this place. My attachment to Somerset and its surrounding boroughs and townships is grounded in a deep historical context, however tenuous that connection may be.

  

On the first page of the Miller Family book is the family tree. A reproduction of it accompanies this article. My line of descent can be traced to the first branch to the right, that of Joseph. The oldest son of Joseph was Samuel, the first upper branch. Samuel was my grandmother's grandfather, whose sons were grandma’s uncles, the so-called “Twelve Apostles.” The eleventh son was Lemon Miller, my great grandfather, who bought the house I am working on today.

 

Looking at the many branches of this tree, I imagine I must have a host of long, lost relatives in the area. It would be a treat to meet them and to listen to their stories. Regardless of whether we actually know our distant relatives or not, familial continuity has a perpetual life all its own. The stately old Miller-McGuire House on West Main stands as a touchstone to that past, a past that has endured to the present, and that continues standing strong as the future unfolds.