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MOCANAQUA — It’s a quaint town with cookie-cutter homes of cedar shake and clapboard siding with trellises and lattice and finely trimmed lawns. There are shade trees, cul-de-sacs and spectacular views from front porches that face the Susquehanna River.
It’s a place few know about, but those that do love the place. And it’s going away piece-by-piece.
We’re talking about the Village of Mocanaqua in Conyngham Township, on the river side of the railroad tracks.
That same river that provides those spectacular views has also caused havoc. With no levee system for protection, the river has swelled several times over the decades — the worst flooding for that region came in 2011.
Two programs have been established to pay property owners fair market value for their little slices of paradise. The Federal Emergency Management Agency and Luzerne County are buying the properties up to allow those who choose to move out of the flood plain to higher, safer ground.
And that is the key. Both programs are voluntary. Nobody is forcing anybody to move.
The only struggle is deciding what to do. Should a homeowner take the money and run, or stay in the peaceful beauty of a truly picturesque community?
Here to stay
Frank Evina, 64, is staying in his home at 106 Italy St. It’s been his family’s home for nearly 100 years. Evina retired a few years ago with the plan to return home and enjoy his childhood neighborhood.
“The last four years have been difficult,” Evina told me. “It hasn’t been fun. It took a long time to get rid of the mud and the smell.”
The mud and the smell are gone from 106 Italy St., but they remain in plenty of other homes on River Street and Pulaski Circle and other roads. Jim Brozena, the former county engineer, has been hired by Conyngham Township to handle the project’s administrative activities. He said 14 homes are scheduled to be demolished starting this week.
They have all been purchased. The owners have decided to take the money and move. You really can’t blame them. The river is but a stone’s throw away from their front doors.
More will follow, Brozena said.
And others, like Evina, will stay in this once-upon-a-time coal town, built and owned by the West End Coal Company in the 1880s. Noted architect Grosvenor Atterbury designed the homes that Evina’s family and others purchased.
In 2011, Evina had a foot of water on his first floor. He admits that coming back this time was more difficult than in 1972. Evina was 21 when Agnes hit; he was 60 in 2011.
“The government doesn’t want people living in the flood plain,” Evina said. “A lot of people have decided to accept the offers. We never even considered it.”
Evina’s grandparents — John and Apolonia Zandarski — came from Poland. He proudly tells how they came to purchase 106 Italy St.
Handshake deal
Evina said his grandmother stood in the middle of the street and met the coal company representative. In broken English, she negotiated the deal to buy the house.
“She gave him a $5 deposit and they sealed the deal with a handshake,” Evina said. “She made a split-second decision.”
Evina said an effort was made to try to get the village on the National Register of Historic Places, but it never went through. To those who have lived there, those who know the beauty and history of “The Settlement,” it will always be historic.
Most of the homes have three rooms on the first floor, including a kitchen, and two bedrooms on the second floor. The bathrooms are on the first floor.
“I’ve always felt safe here,” Evina said. “This is my home.”
Evina’s mother, Henrietta, resides in an assisted living facility now. Her son brings her back to Italy Street nearly every weekend for a visit.
Henrietta, 90, likes to sit in her rocking chair on the front porch and stare at the river. She sees all the memories of decades of living in “The Settlement.” She remembers horse-drawn carriages and friendly neighbors who made sure nobody ever went hungry.
Last weekend was Frank’s birthday. He brought his mom home, and family and friends visited. Frank said his mother always liked to play her harmonica on the front porch.
“She hadn’t played it in maybe 25 years,” he said. “But I still have it and I got it out and handed it to her.”
Frank said Henrietta didn’t know if she could muster the wind to play the harmonica.
“She played ‘Happy Birthday’ for me,” he said, with tears running down his face. “And then she started with the polkas. It was like old times.”
There’s something very sentimental about a 90-year-old woman playing polkas on a harmonica on her front porch in Mocanaqua as the river rolls by.
Moments like that don’t happen often. I wish I was there.
And I wonder how many more of those moments will there ever be on Italy Street in Grosvenor Atterbury’s story-book village.
