Very few people on this planet can say that they grew up next door to an honest-to-God miscreant squatter. This isn't just a tale of some guy who took over an empty building and didn't leave for a few weeks, mind you.
Until he died, this should-be-legendary miscreant squatter "squatted" a huge swath of land encompassing several hundred square acres, which he lived on for over 50 years!
His entire life story is a bit of a mystery, so the few facts that could be found out about him have been gathered together and presented here.
This squatter, or Old Man Huber, as he was called, lived on a triangle of wooded land that was situated between some train tracks and a creek. A road running along the creek had a dirt path branching off of it which lead to a wooded spot where, for perhaps a century or more, people from the neighboring area had dumped their trash.
During the Great Depression, this unofficial city dump had been the site of many hobo camps or "jungles", as it was a large wooded area located near train tracks and a fresh water creek. Hobos were known to bathe and catch fish in the creek and the woods and creek remained a popular area for miscreants, such as the author of this piece, until the late 1980's.
One day, some time in the early 1940s, Old Man Huber strolled down the dirt road and planted his flag. He had discovered one of the few perks of living in the state of Pennsylvania, namely "squatters rights."
Apparently the "dump" and surrounding area, while located on the edge of town, were not officially part of the the town and were owned by no one, save perhaps the Native Americans who had left the area in the late 1800s.
Legend has it that either he, or someone in his family, had worked on the construction of a nearby high school in the late 1930s, as part of FDR's New Deal Public Works programs. Some of Huber's fellow builders camped in the woods near the school and they may have found out that the woods weren't owned by the town.
Huber availed himself of this oversight a couple of years later.
A "turf war" erupted soon after, as the town quickly bought up/shored up the nearby land that Huber didn't own. Acres and acres of trees were cut down for baseball fields, tennis courts, soccer fields and a middle school.
Children attending the middle school were blissfully unaware that when standing at the southern end of their school's soccer field, just 30 feet, a few trees and some underbrush separated them from the rusting remains of water heaters and washing machines made before their parents were born.
Over the next 20 years, Old Man Huber built a home and a raised a family on his land, but, to the surrounding schools and town, he remained all but a ghost. He rarely ventured from the junkyard empire he ruled, as it was rumored that he feared reprisals from the local sheriff who supposedly harassed him from time to time.
Anyone who ventured on his property without permission would be welcomed by rock salt fired from a shotgun.
Although one could find "No Trespassing" signs nailed to many trees and signed by the old curmudgeon, throughout "Huber's Woods", by the late 1970's, Old Man Huber appeared to have mellowed. He stopped rampaging through his woods and turned a blind eye to the homeless Vietnam vets who began camping near the train tracks.
The truants who smoked and drank in Huber's Woods near the schools they avoided going to would occasionally tell tales of having met the man who would simply ask for a sip of their alcohol and their word that they wouldn't set the woods on fire.
In the 80's, Huber even bequeathed the remains of a colonial stone home to a group of beer-swilling miscreants, although this was credited less to his altruism and more to the fancy he took to some of the female miscreants.
Old Man Huber passed away some time in the 1990s and, by law, his family was forced off the land. The town wasted little time in again cutting down acres of trees for more baseball and soccer fields and yet another school. The single lane road that ran by the creek was expanded into a four lane highway.
By this time, the public was almost completely unaware of this should-be-legendary squatter and had no idea that he was saving them millions of tax dollars by "adversely possessing" the land.
Perhaps it was inevitable that the author of this piece, being one of the few people in the town who marveled at Huber's hubris would, out of economic necessity, end up squatting himself, albeit in another town.
Perhaps it is also inevitable that things would "come full circle" and that the tiny slice of "Huber's Woods" which remains is currently being squatted by a new generation of miscreants, in the tradition of Old Man Huber, the should-be-legendary squatter.
Until he died, this should-be-legendary miscreant squatter "squatted" a huge swath of land encompassing several hundred square acres, which he lived on for over 50 years!
His entire life story is a bit of a mystery, so the few facts that could be found out about him have been gathered together and presented here.
This squatter, or Old Man Huber, as he was called, lived on a triangle of wooded land that was situated between some train tracks and a creek. A road running along the creek had a dirt path branching off of it which lead to a wooded spot where, for perhaps a century or more, people from the neighboring area had dumped their trash.
During the Great Depression, this unofficial city dump had been the site of many hobo camps or "jungles", as it was a large wooded area located near train tracks and a fresh water creek. Hobos were known to bathe and catch fish in the creek and the woods and creek remained a popular area for miscreants, such as the author of this piece, until the late 1980's.
One day, some time in the early 1940s, Old Man Huber strolled down the dirt road and planted his flag. He had discovered one of the few perks of living in the state of Pennsylvania, namely "squatters rights."
Apparently the "dump" and surrounding area, while located on the edge of town, were not officially part of the the town and were owned by no one, save perhaps the Native Americans who had left the area in the late 1800s.
Legend has it that either he, or someone in his family, had worked on the construction of a nearby high school in the late 1930s, as part of FDR's New Deal Public Works programs. Some of Huber's fellow builders camped in the woods near the school and they may have found out that the woods weren't owned by the town.
Huber availed himself of this oversight a couple of years later.
A "turf war" erupted soon after, as the town quickly bought up/shored up the nearby land that Huber didn't own. Acres and acres of trees were cut down for baseball fields, tennis courts, soccer fields and a middle school.
Children attending the middle school were blissfully unaware that when standing at the southern end of their school's soccer field, just 30 feet, a few trees and some underbrush separated them from the rusting remains of water heaters and washing machines made before their parents were born.
Over the next 20 years, Old Man Huber built a home and a raised a family on his land, but, to the surrounding schools and town, he remained all but a ghost. He rarely ventured from the junkyard empire he ruled, as it was rumored that he feared reprisals from the local sheriff who supposedly harassed him from time to time.
Anyone who ventured on his property without permission would be welcomed by rock salt fired from a shotgun.
Although one could find "No Trespassing" signs nailed to many trees and signed by the old curmudgeon, throughout "Huber's Woods", by the late 1970's, Old Man Huber appeared to have mellowed. He stopped rampaging through his woods and turned a blind eye to the homeless Vietnam vets who began camping near the train tracks.
The truants who smoked and drank in Huber's Woods near the schools they avoided going to would occasionally tell tales of having met the man who would simply ask for a sip of their alcohol and their word that they wouldn't set the woods on fire.
In the 80's, Huber even bequeathed the remains of a colonial stone home to a group of beer-swilling miscreants, although this was credited less to his altruism and more to the fancy he took to some of the female miscreants.
Old Man Huber passed away some time in the 1990s and, by law, his family was forced off the land. The town wasted little time in again cutting down acres of trees for more baseball and soccer fields and yet another school. The single lane road that ran by the creek was expanded into a four lane highway.
By this time, the public was almost completely unaware of this should-be-legendary squatter and had no idea that he was saving them millions of tax dollars by "adversely possessing" the land.
Perhaps it was inevitable that the author of this piece, being one of the few people in the town who marveled at Huber's hubris would, out of economic necessity, end up squatting himself, albeit in another town.
Perhaps it is also inevitable that things would "come full circle" and that the tiny slice of "Huber's Woods" which remains is currently being squatted by a new generation of miscreants, in the tradition of Old Man Huber, the should-be-legendary squatter.
