BREEZEWOOD — There is a meme that circulates on social media every couple of months that shows a photo of this hamlet — which has served since the ’60s as a junction for anyone going from the Midwest to the mid-Atlantic — a chaotic mass of gas stations, restaurants, truck stops, motels and souvenir traps.
The common observation on social media is that its very existence should be terminated.
The thing about photos is that there is likely a very different scene if you just turned the camera 180 degrees. That is also true of photos of Breezewood.
Like much of America 120 years ago, Breezewood was nothing more than a rural pasture located between two mountain ridges made up of dairy farms, cows and not much else. In 1913 the Lincoln Highway was built right through the center of it, and a couple of industrious farmers built touring cabins for families to stop for the night on their way west.
When the Pennsylvania Turnpike opened in the 1940s, this tiny town responded gratefully to its designation as an exit — and a gas station, motel and truck stop followed.
The Breezewood of motels, restaurants, truck stops and kitsch that we know today happened in the 1960s when Interstate 70 was built; instead of connecting the interstate as a ramp to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the exit configuration forces the driver to spend half of a mile in this town.
For some, that is an opportunity to stretch their legs, eat a meal or spend the night; for others, it is an annoyance, a disturbance, if you will, to their ability to travel along at a 70 mph clip from point A to point B — how dare they be forced to sit through one or two red lights in a small town that reeks of everything they find wrong with the world?
Never mind that they are passing by places that keep people who live in rural America gainfully employed, people who make sure the gas pump is working so you can fill up your tank or that the food they serve to you is warm and good.
They also turn down your sheets, patch your tires or offer you the choice of dozens of kitschy postcards to send to your family because you know they will appreciate it.
Breezewood’s story is more than a town filled with cement, neon, cars and trucks and all the necessities they require; in truth, it is the story of how a small town survived when most other small towns along the turnpikes and interstates withered away when those superhighways passed them by.
There are hundreds of towns that once flourished — along the Lincoln Highway in this state alone — that have now faded into obscurity, thanks to either the turnpike or bypasses. Each new generation finds it harder and harder to keep their town alive when potential visitors find traveling fast more important than stopping and sitting a spell.
If anything, Breezewood is a story of American exceptionalism, of finding the tenacity to be both small and still matter in a society that often looks past small-town America.
Judy Felton-Carlin has lived here all of her life. She and her husband, John Carlin, run the Quality Inn Breeze Manor motel. Her grandparents started the motel when the turnpike divided their farm into three pieces, making actual farming a real challenge.
“The farm was crimped by the turnpike,” Ms. Felton-Carlin said. “To make ends meet they sold homemade ice cream and chocolate milk on the roadside. As they noticed more cars started to come into town, my father and uncles bought the land off of my grandfather and built 12 rooms on the farmland for people to stay — and called it the Breeze Manor Motel,” she said pointing to the original, impeccably kept motel rooms 101 through 112, still in service.
Two years later, they added eight more rooms and bought a Quality Inn franchise; 68 years later, Judy and her husband John are running this completely intact, perfectly maintained, mid-century marvel.
In between, John and Yoko Lennon and Muhammad Ali all tried to stay here, explained Ms. Felton-Carlin, “Unfortunately we were booked both times.”
The view of Breezewood from the vantage point of the motel rooms would rival any you would find in the Shenandoah Valley or the foothills of the Rockies — quite different from the meme of this town that keeps getting passed around on social media.
Or the photos that focus on the businesses that have failed rather than the ones that stood the test of time.
If you think the Felton-Carlin family has been here for a while, they have nothing on the Bittner family, whose Gateway Travel Plaza has been in the same family for four generations. It is the quintessential travel mecca that gives drivers the ability to eat, gas up or do a little shopping — and gives truckers the added option of service if a truck needs a little mechanical attention.
There is also a chaplain here, who provides guidance to anyone who asks.
John Bittner, who employs over 200 people at the plaza, said one of the things people might miss about Breezewood is its real sense of community: “People take a lot of pride in what they do here. They know they are offering a service that people need. We might not be the prettiest town in America, but our role is important.”
There is also a new generation of people falling in love with Breezewood — the outdoors enthusiasts and adventure seekers who come here to hike or bike along the abandoned section of the turnpike, the entrance to which is just beyond the Quality Inn’s driveway.
“We just had a group of young men from New York City stay here last week who were backpacking the old turnpike and checking out the old tunnel,” Ms. Felton-Carlin said. “They really enjoyed the adventure and were thrilled at the views our motel offers.”
Mr. Bittner says while what is on the concrete brings in the business, it’s what’s behind the concrete — the 180 degree shift in perspective — that makes Breezewood worth slowing down for, or calling it home.
North Side native Salena Zito is a national political reporter for The Washington Examiner, New York Post columnist and co-author of The Great Revolt. She can be reached at zito.salena@gmail.com.
First Published: October 10, 2021, 4:00 a.m.