(Read on July 20, 2025)

Something special is stirring at the old house on Gravel Pike–you know the one at 1-1-3-5. For years, it stood silent and weathered, a quiet witness to time passing by. If you’ve ever lived in Zieglerville or driven through Frederick Township, chances are you’ve seen it a hundred times without giving it a second thought. But not anymore.

The house—yes, that one—is waking up again. You can feel it. It’s as if the place is breathing for the first time in years, finally exhaling after holding its breath for far too long.

Just beyond the traffic roundabout—not far from CVS, Dunkin’ Donuts, and the ever-busy Wawa, once the Almeida Hotel—the two-story stone house stands. Unlike those bustling spots, this place carries a different kind of weight. It’s not just stone and wood. It’s memory and meaning. And it’s been standing there longer than current residents have been alive, beside a neighbor just as seasoned.

For more than fifty years, the house was home to a thriving greenhouse and floral business. It was a place where people came not just for petals and stems, but for community and connection. The greenhouses are gone now, replaced by blacktop and the steady rhythm of passing traffic. But the soul of the place? It’s still there. And so are the stories. 

At the heart of one of its longest chapters is one man. Fowler Smythe Strang was born in Brooklyn on November 19, 1904. He didn’t always belong to this area. But in the 1930s, when he opened his flower shop, he firmly planted his roots in the closely-knit community.  Fowler was a florist, yes, but also a builder, a neighbor, and a quiet force in the community. 

He served as Frederick Township’s zoning officer and was secretary of the former Schwenksville School Board. He was a high-ranking mason in the Scottish Rite—an organization known for its commitment to moral values and community service. He didn’t just live here—he helped shape the place.

And his local connection grew deep roots—not just in flowers, but in family. In 1927, at the age of twenty-three, he married Hildegard Franziska Elble. Hilda, as most knew her, had immigrated from Berlin as a teenager. She was just nineteen when they married. 

Together, they raised two children under the roof of that stone house—kids who carried forward the same values of hard work and quiet perseverance.

Their son, also named Fowler, graduated from Schwenksville High School in 1948 and went on to earn a degree in agriculture from Penn State. He served with distinction in the U.S. Air Force, eventually rising to the rank of major. When his father retired in 1972, he took over the family business.

Their daughter, Mary, forged her own remarkable path. After attending Abington Friends School—the oldest primary and secondary school in the country still operating at its original location—she went on to study at Guilford College in North Carolina. 

Back in Pennsylvania, she enrolled in the trailblazing Women’s Medical College of Philadelphia, one of the first institutions in the world dedicated to training women physicians. Mary built a career in radiology and nuclear science, later teaching at Texas Tech University. 

Later in life, she opened a bakery in the Texas Hill Country. Turns out, nuclear science might’ve been the easier career. Have you ever tried to master sourdough?

Of course, not all memories tied to the Strang’s time in the house are rosy. Some locals may still remember the Friday night fire back in 1962. Five fire companies answered the late night call when a storage house at the back of the property ignited. The heat grew so intense that nearby gasoline tanks exploded. Hilda was said to be nearby at the time. What a fright that must have been. 

Thankfully, she was unharmed, but the fire caused significant damage. Around $5,000 worth–a heavy blow in those days. The structure, as the story goes, was only partially insured.

Time moved on. Fowler Sr. passed away in Erie in 1976. Hilda followed two years later. Nearly fifty years of marriage, and their legacy still lingers in these walls.

But the story of 1-1-3-5 Gravel Pike doesn’t begin with the Strangs. Before them, the house belonged to the Yergers.

George S. Yerger was born in 1895 in Neiffers, just a short ride up the road. His wife, Mamie, was born three years earlier in Harleysville. She was the daughter of Edwin and Mary Ziegler–a name deeply rooted in the region. In fact, Mary was a direct descendant of Michael Ziegler, widely considered the patriarch of the Ziegler family in America.  

Michael was born around 1680 in Germany and arrived in Pennsylvania with his brother in 1717. He is believed to have been a founding member of the Skippack Mennonite Church, even serving as one of its early ministers. Much of what is now Zieglerville was once part of the Ziegler family’s extensive land holdings—including, believe it or not, the very property my house sits on today.

George Yerger started out laboring on the local roadways, before settling into greenhouse work. A quieter life? Perhaps. And one he stayed with until his passing in 1963.

George and Mamie raised their children in the house at 1-1-3-5.

Their son, Paul Z., served in the U.S. Army during World War II.  He died unexpectedly of a heart attack in 1970. He was 57 years old. Paul is buried at Keelor’s Church Cemetery in Obelisk, right alongside his father. 

Their daughter, Pearl, spent years working as a clerk at the old Sears Outlet in Quakertown. She married Ralph S. Bender, a former Air Force paratrooper who later worked at Superior Tube Company in Collegeville. 

Pearl’s grandson, William, passed away just a few months ago. A master printer turned carpenter, he’s remembered most for his deep affection for his beloved peacocks. Yup—peacocks.

The house has seen all of this—and more. It has stood through storms, snow, and summers so hot the shutters groaned. It remembers when the road out front was nothing more than rutted clay, and a good rain could swallow a wagon wheel whole. 

In winter that same road became a frozen gauntlet of jagged ridges and potholes. Back then, getting anywhere was a gamble. You hoped your wagon—or your nerve—would make it in one piece. 

Clearly, something had to give. And eventually, it did. Someone had a simple but smart idea: if you use the road, you ought to help pay for it. That’s how the toll roads came to be. Roads we know by heart today—Germantown Pike, Ridge Pike, Swamp Pike, and yes, Gravel Pike—were once toll roads, built and kept up by private companies. Sure, they hoped to make a profit. But they also gave local folks something to be proud of. Good roads meant better business, rising land values, and a stronger future for everyone.

And yes, the word “turnpike” comes from those early days. There was literally a gate—a pike—blocking the road. Pay your toll, the pike turned, and on you went.  Simple as that.

Eventually those roads were paved as asphalt became a thing. Wagons gave way to Fords. But the house? It stayed put.

The Yergers eventually moved to Pennsburg, where George passed away in 1963 from heart complications. Like the Strangs, their time at 1-1-3-5 Gravel Pike left a mark—a quiet but lasting one.

Today, that house sits at a unique crossroads in what we now call the Central Perkiomen Valley. This area has roots as deep as the old trees shading the back edge of the property.

Lower Frederick Township came into being in 1919 after splitting off from Frederick Township. The first settlers here were Pennsylvania Dutch folks, bringing with them strong farming traditions that shaped the land. 

Back in the day, the farms focused on dairy, timber, hay, and—thanks to the Perkiomen Creek running through it—ice harvesting. While much of the area remains rural and agricultural, new homes are starting to dot the landscape, gently nudging the past into the present.

Lower Frederick is home to the villages of Spring Mount and Zieglerville—called “Zieglersville” by many until 1887. Spring Mount, a former vacation destination, is now home to Engage Art Studio, which occupies the once-popular Weldon House hotel. 

Nearby, Sunrise Mill, dating back to 1767 and once owned by bronchoscope inventor Dr. Chevalier Jackson, is another local landmark that will hopefully soon reopen to the public.

To the north, Upper Frederick Township includes Frederick, Obelisk, and Perkiomenville. Long before highways and GPS, these were stops along the Great Road–what we now know as Route 73. Back then, travelers made their way by carriage or on foot, stopping at inns that offered rest and a warm meal. One such place was the Halfway House, a well-known inn that once welcomed weary passersby. Another was the Green Tree Inn, which stood for years before it burned down in 1922. It was later rebuilt just across Route 73 as the Country Harvest Tavern, a spot that many locals came to recognize as the unofficial boundary between Frederick and Obelisk.

And then there’s Schwenksville. Officially incorporated in 1903, this quaint town grew from the lands of Perkiomen Township. Its roots trace back to settler Hans Michael Schwenk, with a legacy that includes Pennsylvania’s first copper mine. 

Early businesses here included a general store built in 1818 and a hotel constructed in 1845 by Jacob Schwenk, Hans Michael’s great-grandson. As the eighteenth century progressed, the village grew to include icehouses, a creamery, and a successful clothing factory. 

Now let’s talk about infrastructure for a minute. Before automobiles and highways made travel far more convenient, getting from Philadelphia to places like Schwenksville or Pennsburg wasn’t exactly simple. Most folks would load their wagons and head out of the city on Skippack or Germantown Pike, then turn north onto what we now call Route 29.

Travel certainly got a bit easier when a bridge was built in Collegeville—the only stone bridge spanning the Perkiomen. That spot had long been a crossing point, once known as “Philip’s Ford.” A local named Henry Buckwalter drowned there on April 14, 1737; the official cause was simply noted as “horse stumbling.” That bridge–and three others like it–completed a key link, paving the way (literally) for a new era of transportation: the railroad.

The rail line that once ran through this area got its start in 1852, when it was first chartered as the Norristown and Freemansburg Railroad Company. Just two years later, it was renamed the Norristown and Allentown Railroad, reflecting its expanding ambitions. By 1865, it had taken on the name that would finally stick—the Perkiomen Railroad.

With tracks finally laid, trains could begin carving their path through the rural landscape. What had once been a region of quiet farms was now linked by rail to the broader world—a sign of the industrial age rolling in, quite literally, on iron wheels.

The first train arrived in 1869. At its peak, the Perkiomen Railroad stretched nearly 39 miles, running from Oaks to Emmaus with 28 stops along the way.  These local stations connected small but vibrant communities — places like Schwenksville, Spring Mount, Upper Salford, Green Lane, and Delphi.

And it wasn’t just about getting people from place to place—though plenty of passengers climbed aboard, especially during the bustling summer months. The line also moved freight: milk from nearby farms, blocks of ice, hand-rolled cigars, food supplies, and raw materials from local factories and quarries. For many communities, the railroad was a lifeline—connecting them to markets, goods, and the world beyond the valley.

But as cars became more common, people slowly stopped relying on the train. Passenger service came to a quiet end around 1960, and the last freight car passed through on August 2, 1978.

Today, you don’t have to look too hard to find traces of that bygone era. Throughout the area one can easily find a stretch of old track, ride over that still-standing stone bridge, or even just through a familiar name like “Salford Station Road.” 

With all these people moving around and new places popping up, the need for better communication grew. The first telephone line for practical use in a Pennsylvania home was likely installed in Philadelphia around 1877. But let’s be real—phones were expensive back then, so they were mostly found in wealthier homes or businesses—think doctors’ offices or city establishments that could afford them.

Locally, accounts suggest one of the first—if not the first—telephone in the area was in the office of the Schwenksville Item, the weekly newspaper founded by Rev. Nathan Grubb in 1881. Copies of this historic paper are still available today at the Schwenkfelder Library & Heritage Center in Pennsburg and the Historical Society of Montgomery County in Norristown.

Now, here’s a fun nugget for you: the very first known telephone directory for the area dates back to 1912. It was a collaboration between the Bell Telephone Company of Pennsylvania and the American Telephone & Telegraph Company. That directory covered Jenkintown and Doylestown.

Of course, 1912 was a year of big changes across the country. Woodrow Wilson’s “New Freedom” platform won the presidential election, beating incumbent President William Howard Taft and former President Theodore Roosevelt, who ran on the third-party Progressive “Bull Moose” ticket.

Although Wilson won overall, Roosevelt carried Pennsylvania by more than four points—making him the first non-Republican to do so since James Buchanan in 1856.

Beyond politics, one of the most talked-about headlines of that year was the sinking of the R.M.S. Titanic. The ship went down in under three hours, and among those lost were several Philadelphia residents—streetcar magnate George Dunton Weidner and his son Harry. Also lost was John Borland Thayer Jr., a director with the Pennsylvania Railroad. His wife, Marian, survived, and their son, Jack, somehow made it through by clinging to an upside-down lifeboat in the freezing water.

History tells us that Henry T. Slemmer lived in the small colonial at 1-1-3-5. A laborer by trade, Henry married Sallie Umstead in Pennsburg in 1889. That same year, they welcomed their only child, a daughter named Ellen. 

Sallie’s life was sadly cut short in 1898. Henry never remarried. He lived in the house as a widower until his passing in 1918. Today, he and Sallie rest side by side at Saint Luke’s Lutheran Church Cemetery, just up the road in Obelisk.

Daughter Ellen later married Jacob Lloyd Smith, and together they raised two sons. One of them, Jacob Jr., served proudly as a Corporal in Company C of the 2nd Infantry Division during the Korean War.

When Henry Slemmer bought the old property from Ephraim S. Renninger, he wasn’t just purchasing a piece of land — he was stepping into a legacy. 

Ephraim Renninger had deep roots here. Born in 1834 just up the road in New Hanover Township, he came from a long line of Pennsylvanians. Several of his ancestors had even served in local militias during the Revolutionary War.

Ephraim’s life mirrored the ongoing changes of his era. When drafted during the Civil War in 1863, he was listed as a farmer. But by the end of his life, he had taken up tailoring — a trade that seemed to run in the family.

He married twice. First wife, Emma Louisa Stetler, died young in 1872. A few years later, he married Mary Treisbach Daub. The two remained together for the rest of their lives, including their eventual move to Norristown, where they died just 25 days apart in 1922.

Ephraim and Mary raised several children, each forging a different path. Sons Howard and William became salesmen, likely traveling far from home in their work. Sons Warren and John found their calling in the classroom as teachers. John also served overseas during World War I, continuing the family’s tradition of military service. Daughter, Magdalena, also pursued education before marrying Edward B. Schwenk, part of the fourth generation of Schwenks in the area. The youngest, Anna, tragically died in infancy. She lived just seven months, but her brief life remains part of the family’s story.

Many in the area may still remember Renninger’s Supermarket, which once stood right on Main Street in Schwenksville. It wasn’t just a place to pick up groceries — it was a local fixture. When Pennsylvania launched the Daily Number lottery on March 1, 1977, locals lined up there to buy their first tickets. That day, Pennsylvanians spent nearly $250,000 trying their luck — with tickets ranging from just fifty cents to five dollars. For many, it’s a nostalgic memory tied to the Renninger name.

But the family’s connection to 1-1-3-5 dates back even further. Ephraim acquired it in 1889 through his marriage to Mary. Her father, Jacob S. Daub, born in 1851, was a local man who married another Schwenk–Lydia Anna–in 1883. Today, they’re buried at Keelys Church Cemetery—the peaceful spot up on the hill just across from Industrial Hall in Schwenksville.

Jacob had inherited the house from his father, William Daub, who passed it on in his 1880 will. William, born in 1819, was married to Maria Treisbach. They had two children: John and Mary—the same Mary who would later marry Ephraim.

The story goes back even further through Maria’s side of the family. Her brother, Reuben Underkoffler Treisbach, is buried at the small Underkoffler Cemetery nearby—not far from where many generations of their family once lived. Their parents were Elizabeth Underkoffler and Jacob Treisbach Jr.

Jacob Jr.’s father—the elder Jacob Treisbach—arrived in Philadelphia in 1737 aboard the Charming Nancy. He married Maria Eva Schmied in 1744, and together they built a life that would echo across generations. Their sons, Jacob Jr. and David, both served in the Revolutionary War. The elder Jacob became a substantial landowner in Frederick Township, passing his land down to his children—land that remained in the family for decades, connecting branches and weaving together surnames.

So when Henry Slemmer bought the house from Ephraim, he wasn’t just buying a building. He was entering a living story—one shaped by generations, and stretching back to the earliest settlers of the region. 

On Thursday, April 3, 2025, Salford Station Spirits opened its doors in the long-dormant house. Three partners — Mike, Peter, and Adam — tapped into a unique, long-running story, mapping out a new chapter of their own. Together with property owner Terry Bird and his lovely wife Natalie, who purchased the house and its sister home at 1-1-3-7 back in 2020, the team lovingly restored the old homestead, preserving as much of its early charm and character as possible.

Clocking thousands of work hours that continue even today, the trio looks to engage the still tight-knit community inside the house’s beautifully decorated rooms—with tastefully crafted cocktails and enlightening conversation.

You know, it’s funny. How can a house be more than just bricks and mortar?  How can it hold onto time—remember?

This old place has seen generations come and go. Stories whispered across floorboards, laughter echoing through hallways, lives unfolding one quiet moment at a time. From its earliest days to now, it has stood not just as a structure, but as a keeper of memory.

And now, after years of stillness, 1-1-3-5 breathes again. Its story—thanks in part to dedicated locals—hasn’t ended. It’s merely turning a page.

If you’re someone who remembers what it used to be, or someone just discovering its celebrated story, this letter is for you.

---

Come be part of the conversation on the first Sunday of each month at 3 p.m. Admission is always free, and everyone is welcome.