The changing of historic place names

In Short

This concise monograph examines the persistent cultural vandalism of altering and mis-spelling historic place names across Pennsylvania. Authored by George P. Donehoo and championed by Henry W. Shoemaker, the work documents how classical school teachers, careless mapmakers, railroads, and real estate developers have systematically replaced rich, evocative Indian and pioneer names with generic, meaningless substitutes. Supported by an extensive comparative list of old and new designations, the authors argue for legislative protection and local historical oversight to preserve these irreplaceable linguistic landmarks for future generations.

The Story

The text opens with an urgent call to recognize place names as historic landmarks that often hold greater value than physical structures. Donehoo establishes that early Pennsylvania names were chosen deliberately, carrying deep historical and cultural resonance. He laments the disappearance of names like Wyoming and the corruption of Shamokin into Sunbury, tracing a destructive pattern back to New England classical school teachers who swept through New York and northern Pennsylvania slaughtering native Indian nomenclature in favor of classical titles like Troy, Rome, and Syracuse. While Scotch-Irish settlers generally spared Indian river and mountain names, these classical educators left a trail of historical erasure.

The argument expands into the modern era, where clerical errors by mapmakers and government agencies further corrupt the landscape. Simple slips of the pen transform Cartee Camp into Carter Camp or Quinn's Run into Queen's Run, errors that eventually gain permanent official backing through the United States Geological Survey. Beyond honest mistakes, intentional commercial renaming strips regions of their heritage. Developers and railroads exchange romantic, rugged pioneer names—such as Vance Fort becoming Coraopolis, Shousetown becoming Glenwillard, or Stucktown becoming McClure—for fashionable, up-to-date, or flatly anodyne alternatives like Woodland Hills. New towns are arbitrarily christened with intrusive foreign names like Mexico or Vera Cruz that share no connection to local history.

To counter this widespread ignorance, Donehoo proposes legislative action, urging state historical societies to secure an Act of Assembly requiring official historical approval before any new place is named or any historic name is altered. Following this central monograph, Henry W. Shoemaker contributes an extensive partial list detailing dozens of altered and misspelled Pennsylvania place names, mapping the old designations alongside their modern replacements while recording the rich historical anecdotes behind them.

Shoemaker then appends a supplemental essay examining a parallel form of historical vandalism: the modernization of Civil War memorials. He criticizes sculptors and artists for sanitizing the appearance of common soldiers, depicting 1860s veterans as clean-shaven, short-haired National Guardsmen rather than the rugged, long-haired, bearded figures who actually fought the conflict. Concluding with the creed and mission of the Pennsylvania Alpine Club, the volume asserts a unified front for protecting folklore, native traditions, and physical landmarks against the eroding tides of an urban, complex civilization, urging all citizens to safeguard the ancient heritage of the state.

How It Unfolds

The sacred landmark The text begins by invoking ancient legal and moral principles regarding property boundaries to establish that place names are vital historical touchstones. Donehoo explains that early geographic titles were chosen with deliberate intent and reveal the genuine history of a region, making them far more valuable than physical structures.

The classical slaughter The discussion turns to the destructive impact of New England school teachers who flooded into the region during early settlement. These educators systematically replaced native Indian names with classical designations like Troy, Rome, and Syracuse, leaving behind a linguistic trail of historical erasure across the landscape.

Clerical and commercial erosion The narrative details how careless mapmakers, government copyists, and ambitious railroads accelerate this loss through simple typos and intentional rebranding. Historic settlement names like Vance Fort and Shousetown are traded for meaningless modern labels like Coraopolis and Glenwillard to please contemporary sensibilities and corporate interests.

The legislative remedy Donehoo advocates for direct government intervention to halt this ongoing cultural vandalism across the commonwealth. He suggests that the state legislature pass an explicit act empowering local historical societies and commissions to review and authorize any future alterations to geographic names.

The comparative ledger Shoemaker provides an extensive inventory cataloging scores of altered Pennsylvania locations paired with their original titles. This meticulous record preserves the lost stories of early pioneers, Indian tribes, and frontier skirmishes that would otherwise be forgotten by modern citizens.

The sanitized soldier A concluding essay by Shoemaker exposes a parallel distortion found in Civil War monuments across the country. He laments that modern artists falsely depict nineteenth-century veterans as clean-shaven, short-haired guardsmen rather than the bearded, long-haired men who actually fought the conflict.

The People

The work features several key figures and groups whose actions shape the historical landscape of Pennsylvania. George P. Donehoo serves as the primary voice, acting as a dedicated historian and secretary of the Pennsylvania Historical Commission who diagnoses the steady erosion of local heritage. Henry W. Shoemaker, a prominent conservationist and chairman, sponsors the publication and contributes essential glossaries and essays, fiercely advocating for the preservation of ancient landmarks.

Among the historical figures whose names are preserved or lost in the text are figures like General Cartee and early settler Quinn, whose family names were garbled by careless map copyists into Carter and Queen. Pioneers such as Lewis Derr and Judge Abraham Gallauher find their legacies obscured when towns named after them are altered or misspelled. Mary Wolford emerges as a tragic and heroic figure of the frontier, whose drowning while escaping from Indians is commemorated in the older name of North Bend. The text also highlights figures like Anthony Benezet, the Quaker abolitionist whose name suffered from railroad spelling blunders, and Indian chiefs and tribes whose rich linguistic contributions are steadily overwritten. Finally, modern antagonists appear in the form of classical school teachers from New England, railroad land agents, and local politicians who casually sacrifice authentic nomenclature for vanity, commercial convenience, or anodyne fashion, replacing rugged frontier identities with generic substitutes.

In Its Own Voice

Reflecting on the steady erosion of regional heritage driven by incoming populations, the introductory note observes with clear dismay:

Every month the senseless shifting is going on, newcomers wresting from the historic past the heritage of honored names.

Discussing the destructive cultural impact left behind by classical school teachers who migrated into the region, the text notes of their path:

The Indian names were slaughtered without pity.

Addressing the historical inaccuracy found in public tributes erected decades after the conflict, Shoemaker forcefully points out regarding artistic depictions:

The short-haired, clean-shaved Civil War soldier never existed outside of the careless imagination of modern sculptors.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book explores the deep psychological and cultural connection between a people and their geographic nomenclature. It examines how a society's reverence for its past is reflected in how carefully it guards its inherited names, traditions, and physical landmarks. The authors argue against a rising tide of American rootlessness and commercial modernization, where corporate convenience and personal vanity supersede historical truth. By cataloging these changes, the work addresses a broader question about cultural memory: whether a nation can safely discard the linguistic footprints of its pioneers and indigenous inhabitants without losing its historical identity. Ultimately, it champions a philosophy of conservation that treats local history as a public trust belonging to the archives of the commonwealth rather than private property subject to whim.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in local history, historical preservation, and the subtle ways language reflects cultural values will find this monograph endlessly fascinating. Reading it feels like walking through an archival ledger alongside passionate antiquarians who refuse to let the past fade quietly into oblivion. While modern readers must navigate the period attitudes of its early twentieth-century authors and an extensive, highly localized catalog of Pennsylvania townships, rivers, and creeks, the reward is a remarkably vivid window into forgotten frontier struggles. It leaves you with a heightened awareness of the names around you, prompting a permanent curiosity about who walked the land before and what stories live quietly inside everyday geography. You will never look at a town sign or a roadside creek the same way again, recognizing that every altered syllable represents a piece of our collective story quietly buried beneath the march of progress.