THE GHOST SIGNS OF LEBANON CITY
LebTown News
What we now know as the City of Lebanon began as Steitztown in 1740. Over the years, many businesses have passed through. Ghost signs, advertising businesses that no longer exist, serve as echoes of the past, whether recent or distant. Here are just a few of the ghost signs in the City of Lebanon.
YOUNG MEN’S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION (YMCA)
While the YMCA still has a location in Lebanon — the Lebanon Valley Family YMCA at 201 N. 7th St. — it was once housed at the intersection of 9th and Willow, an extravagant building dedicated in June 1907.
When the Lebanon branch of the YMCA began, according to a 1951 LDN historical piece, it operated out of classrooms in the Shenk Building. In 1905, its board bought the land that would become this building.
A Daily News article from 1906 describes a push from the Lebanon YMCA to speed up construction, though it also describes issues about fundraising and fostering membership. By September of the following year, the building was completed, offering a variety of classes for men and boys in the community.
According to a 1995 historical piece, the YMCA built an addition to the building in 1945, constructing a swimming pool, gymnasium and locker rooms. It purchased an adjacent home in 1955.
By the 1980s, the building was no longer in use by the organization, though it was still colloquially referred to as “the old YMCA building.” Given the titling still on the building, that will likely be true for a long time.
THE BELL TELEPHONE CO.
This building, located at 46 S. 8th St., once belonged to Bell Telephone Co., the corporate entity that proliferated the telephone after its invention by Alexander Graham Bell in 1877.
While phones have become ubiquitous in the modern day, it took a few years for the invention to reach Lebanon County. According to Lebanon Daily News archives, the first local Bell Telephone was installed between the office and home of P.L. Weimer in 1879.
A year later, LDN reported that a representative of the Bell Co. was looking into establishing a local telephone exchange, something the paper described as in-demand by residents.
Telephone poles were soon erected in the city, with LDN editorializing: “Let our people show that they belong to the progressive class and endorse this great project.”
The Bell Telephone Co. continued to operate well into the 20th century, with one article referencing a burglary and potential arson at the business in 1971. However, by 1990 the building no longer housed the telephone company, with a news article reporting that its upper floors were being used for around 20 apartments.
This usage continues to this day, though the building’s exterior still advertises its former use.
SAMLER BUILDING
The distinct building at 756 Cumberland St. once housed the Samler Building, constructed in 1890. The building was named for Louis Samler, who owned a Bon Ton department store.
A 1909 Daily News article describes a dance held by Samler in the Samler building, attended by over 70 Bon Ton employees and their wives.
“This affair promises to be a brilliant one and reflects credit upon Mr. Samler’s generosity,” reads the article, noting that Samler regularly held social events for his clerks.
Over the years, the building has rented offices to various local businesses. It is now home to a T-mobile store and apartments, though the Samler name is still visible on its exterior.
WASHINGTON HOUSE
Local legend has it that this two-story building and former tavern at 1000 Cumberland St. once served President George Washington.
While this event may be apocryphal, the historic restaurant marketed around the connection, ultimately changing its name to the George Washington Tavern.
The former name of the establishment may have been the Centennial Restaurant, which in the 1870s advertised itself as the “late Washington House.” However, the address of this restaurant was not advertised, so it may have been a different establishment.
The restaurant ultimately went out of business, with the building first put up for sale in 2013. With a “For Sale” sign in the establishment’s window, it appears the building is still seeking buyers, for a listed price of $899,000.
EVENING REPORT PUBLISHING COMPANY
Featuring prominently an advertisement for the Evening Report Publishing Company, this building (located at 41 N. 9th Street) was once a printing press for multiple local news outlets.
The Lebanon Courier, the Evening Report, the Annville Journal, and the Palmyra Citizen were once printed by this press. Dec. 30, 1937, the building caught fire, permanently shutting down the presses.
However, the painted title of the paper still remains on the side of the building, to those who squint.
Meanwhile in Pennsylvania...
PA didn’t just build towns. It built things the entire world uses.
Not loudly. Not for credit. Just because someone here needed something to work better.
The first computer wasn’t born in Silicon Valley. It started in Philadelphia.
Crayons that colored millions of childhoods came from Easton.
The banana split showed up in Latrobe because someone thought dessert could be bigger. Even the radio broadcasts people gathered around began in Pittsburgh.
And somehow, it makes sense.
This is a state built by people who fix instead of replace.
Who build instead of complain.
Who figure things out because that’s just what you do.
Steel mills. Machine shops. Small-town workshops.
Ideas didn’t stay ideas here. They became real.
You’ve probably used something invented in Pennsylvania today without even realizing it.
Peeps were never supposed to be fast.
When they first showed up in Pennsylvania, every single Peep was made by hand.
One at a time.
A worker held a pastry tube and carefully squeezed marshmallow onto wax paper, forming each tiny chick. Eyes added manually. Tray by tray. Chick by chick.
It took 27 hours to make one batch.
Twenty-seven hours.
Not because they were inefficient. Because they were careful.
Because these weren’t just candy. They were spring itself, being manufactured.
And then…
A Bethlehem, Pennsylvania company called Just Born looked at that slow, delicate process and quietly changed everything.
They built machines that could do it faster.
Not a little faster.
Hundreds of times faster.
What once took over a day could now be done in minutes. Suddenly, Peeps weren’t rare. They were everywhere. Drugstores. Grocery stores. Easter baskets across the entire country.
But they never left Pennsylvania.
They’re still made there. Still born there.
Which means every time you see a pack of Peeps on a shelf, you’re not just looking at candy.
You’re looking at a small piece of Bethlehem that escaped and spread across America.
Soft. Bright. Slightly indestructible.
And somehow still confident enough to stare directly at you through plastic.
Pennsylvania food doesn’t just taste good. It feels familiar before you even take a bite.
It’s the cheesesteak wrapped in paper that soaks through before you get to the car.
It’s the soft pretzel that’s somehow better when it’s slightly stale and dipped in cheap mustard.
It’s pierogies fried in butter that you eat too fast and regret absolutely nothing.
It’s not fancy. It’s not trying to impress anyone.
It was built to fill you up after working all day, standing all day, driving all day.
Pennsylvania food doesn’t need trends.
It survived grandmothers who never measured anything.
Church basements that fed entire towns.
Gas station counters that quietly make better meals than most restaurants.
You don’t eat it to show off.
You eat it because it’s yours.
And somehow, whether it’s scrapple at sunrise, a hot dog at a ballgame, or a box of Tastykakes at midnight… it always tastes like home.
Scrapple didn’t just magically appear on a Pennsylvania plate.
It wasn’t invented in a lab. It wasn’t focus-grouped. It didn’t come with a marketing team and a rebrand.
It came from cold mornings, wood stoves, and farmers who understood one simple rule: waste nothing.
Scrapple was born out of necessity. Pork scraps, cornmeal, spices, slow cooking, patience. The parts most people ignored became breakfast for families who worked sunup to sundown. In places like Lancaster County and beyond, frugal wasn’t a trend. It was survival. You used what you had. You stretched it. You made it feed everyone at the table.
And somehow, out of that grit, came something that still hits the skillet today. Crispy on the outside. Soft in the middle. Debated endlessly at diners and kitchen tables across the state.
Scrapple isn’t just food. It’s proof that Pennsylvania was built by people who could turn almost nothing into something worth passing down.
Did You Know!?
Lebanon bologna is a sweet and tangy, all-beef, semidry fermented sausage that originated in Lebanon County, Pennsylvania. It has a distinctive red color, a smoky aroma, and a unique tangy flavor, and is often served thinly sliced with cheese and crackers. The sausage is made using a slow-curing and cold-smoking process that can last for several days.
Characteristics - Flavor: Sweet and tangy, with a smoky aroma.
Production Process: The beef is ground, spiced, and stuffed into casings. It is then aged for at least ten days before being slowly cold-smoked for up to four days.
Smoking: The cold-smoking process is crucial for developing its unique flavor and color.
History: The recipe was perfected by German immigrants who settled in the Lebanon, Pennsylvania area in the 19th century.
A View of Stoever's Dam After Our Last Snowstorm
