Worrying About Ben

This column originaly appeared on Oct. 28, 2007

We all have worries that keep us awake at night.

Some of us worry about events worldwide that we wish we could control, but we can’t. Some of us worry about our children or spouses or siblings or parents, and hope that we can help them through the struggles that life serves up. Some of us worry about paying the mortgage or getting the Smithson Report ready at the office or having to spend the holidays with the in-laws.

Lately, I’ve been worried about Franklin Township.

You know, Franklin Township down southern Chester County way. Stuck right there between New London to the west and London Britain to the east. Home of the historic village of Kemblesville, parted by the waters of the West Branch of the White Clay Creek, and bisected by Route 896. Sorry to say, but its shortfalls have kept me awake for several hours these past few weeks.

The folks who live there don’t worry me so much. They tend to keep mostly to themselves, and their only complaints seem to stem the fact that people steal stuff out of their cars when they are parked unlocked in the driveway. Parents there concern themselves mostly with whether to attend Toddler Tuesdays at the Avon Grove Library or Homeschoolers Happenings.

What’s got me fidgety is the lack of honor that is apparently being paid to the township’s namesake, one Benjamin Franklin.

We have had this discussion before, about the disconnection between the names given to places in Chester County and reality. As I proved conclusively some time ago, for example, there are no Elk in Elk. Lower Oxford, you may recall, is located north of Oxford, and Highland has a lower elevation than Elverson. We can’t be certain how many Vincents there are in East or West Vincent, and don’t even get me started on the role Robin Hood and His Band of Merry Men may or may not have played in East and West Nottingham.

But there is clear evidence that Benjamin Franklin did spend time in Franklin, and by clear evidence I mean my conversation with Wendy Toman, until recently the chairwoman of the township’s Historic Commission.

Toman, who now lives across the border in Delaware, said that research indicated that Franklin owned land in the area of Kemblesville, and paid taxes on it to boot. He may have also scouted around the area for cheap paper from one of the paper mills for use in printing his newspaper, and as an inventor of farm equipment he is almost certain to have provided technology to help the farmers nearby bring in the fall crops.

Most importantly, Toman told me, Ben liked to stop off at what is now the Kemblesville Inn and quaff down a tankard or two there. “He apparently liked to go to taverns,” she said, with a knowing chuckle.

What has me bothered, however, is that in the century and a half since the township broke away from new London and named itself Franklin, no one has seen fit to memorialize the connection in some physical way. No statues. No monuments. No public portraits. On the township web site, you can find out more about the Colonial Pipeline Co.’s plan to mow its right of way than you can about the ties to Founding Father Franklin.

I think it’s time to correct this deficit. If not for Ben’s sake, then just so I can get my full eight hours of shut eye in.