Culture No. 20: Jim Thorpe, PA

The first time I ever heard about the town of Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, was circa 1995 and courtesy of my grandmother’s copy of Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader. She had one book from the series – quite the feat considering it is the only publication in history to give Chicken Soup for the Soul a run for its money in terms of “who can publish the most ridiculous spinoffs” – and I faithfully read it every (prolonged) trip to her restroom for the majority of my childhood. That’s how I remember that Uncle John was the first to tell me about Jim Thorpe, because he was also the second, third, fourth, etc., etc., et. al.

As a wee one – no pun intended – I never really thought I would ever to have a reason to visit Jim Thorpe. Pennsylvania was a vast, unknown territory that smelled like cows and rhymed with Transylvania. I planned on living in New York forever, excepting the time I spent as an astronaut on the moon. Obviously, things didn't pan out, which is why, I guess you could say, I found myself in Jim Thorpe this past Saturday. The space shuttle was already full. And not headed in the right direction.

Mama and Papa V. came down for a “one day vacation” this past weekend, so on Saturday we took off through the Poconos for a spin through good, ol’ J.T. As the “designated local,” I felt obligated to give my parents a brief history of the area. Here is what I cobbled together from my memories off the loo and the always-venerable Wikipedia:

Jim Thorpe the town was founded in 1818 by a coal-shipping magnate and originally went by the really terrible name of Mauch Chunk. (It means "bear mountain" in Lenape and refers to - you guessed it - a local mountain that looks like a sleeping bear.) Obviously, once the coal industry started to go downhill, a small borough with a terrible name in the middle of Nowhere, PA-tucky is not going to attract a lot of business. During the 1950s, the leaders of the town were desperate to change things, but – alas! – not having much luck.

Jim Thorpe the man was an athlete who won the gold medal for the pentathlon and decathlon in the 1912 Olympics, in addition to playing professional football, basketball, and baseball. He was half Native American and grew up on a reservation in Oklahoma. When he died in 1953, the state declined to build him a memorial and his angry wife vowed to take the body elsewere. When she heard about Mauch Chunk's predicament (How, I’m not sure, because the Thorpes were living in California at the time…), she struck a deal with town officials. They would bury Thorpe, erect a monument, and rename the town in return for the publicity. The end.

That was 1955. The town still thrives on tourism today. In 2009, it ranked #7 on Budget Travel's list of "America's Coolest Small Towns." It’s the base camp for many outdoor activities in the Lehigh Gorge – rafting, hiking, and biking – and a showcase of turn of the century architecture. Broadway – the main thoroughfare – is full of little shops that sell largely the same uninspired mix of country home repros and homemade soap, but there are a few galleries and antique dealers that stand out and make a stroll through town worth it. (This lady was my favorite!) You can also buy tickets for an hour-long ride on the Lehigh Gorge Scenic Railway. We didn’t, but Bert and I definitely made a mental note to come back in the fall and hike the gorge ourselves. It’s a beautiful town in a beautiful place and definitely worth the Turnpike tolls.

Thank you, Uncle John. You were on the money for this one.