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Post-Gazette Article
Important
This story was printed before we stopped selling our water for human consumptions in January, 2008. We did not renew our license for drinking water and our water now is only to be used for nonhuman comsumption. We include this article so you are aware of the standards our water system was originally designed for.
Important
Copied from Pittsburgh PostGazette Sunday, July 18, 2004 Section G-12
Here at Ohio's Seven Creeks Spring
PHOTO AND STORY BY BOB BATZ JR. (Sorry, no photos)
Drive west on state Route 22 into Ohio, past Steubenville, exit at Lovers Lane, and signs point you the rest of the way to Seven Creeks Spring. Or, as one arrow spells it, "Seven Creaks."
The native sons who sell water there bill it as the first state-licensed self-serve roadside spring in all of America.
How do they know that?
That's one of the frequently asked questions they answer on their quirky Web site, www.seven-creeks.com, (where they'll also tell you how to brew tasty whole-bean coffee -- by leaving the beans whole).
The guys say they did a lot of research and found unlicensed springs where you can fill your own jugs and licensed springs that will fill 'em for you "but none which have a state license where you can fill your own jugs any time you want 24 hours a day like ours."
They believe they're unique. "However, we advertise as first, instead of only, because we feel it is a just a matter of time before there will be more springs like ours as people learn more about drinking water."
They and their spring have a colorful history. The "holler" it's in is known as Seven Creeks because the skinny road used to cross this fork of Wills Creek seven times -- right in the water. The spring's patriarch, Tony Galownia, was born at the first crossing, on a farm built by his Polish immigrant father. As a boy, Tony worked at the cottages scattered along the creek -- weekend escapes for folks from nearby Steubenville. Up a few crossings was a lodge that jumped with drinking and dancing and gambling.
The cottages were swept away in the flood of '44. Tony bought this parcel, which included the spring, in 1961 and began living here in 1981. All that time, he drank the water straight out of the hill. Then in 1997, while on strike at the Wheeling-Pitt steel mill, his son Jim had the idea of selling the spring water, and son Tom agreed to get it tested.
They got their license on May 27, 1998 -- their dad's birthday.
The self-serve kiosk was designed by Tom, who lives in Cecil, Washington County. His job is designing facilities for testing the nuclear propulsion systems of Navy warships. The camp-y metal-roofed wood shack, which his son Tim also helped build, is more high-tech than it looks.
A motion detector-activated magnet holds up the clear plastic door to the spout that automatically fills a gallon jug for two quarters. One quarter gets you a new plastic jug. There's another slot where you drop in a quarter to get a postcard of the kiosk and the big rock from whence the water flows. It's behind the kiosk, on the other side of the creek, with a sign: "Big Rock."
The water is strained and disinfected with ultraviolet light and piped to the kiosk, where it's filtered and disinfected again. The fill spout is automatically sterilized with ozone. If any of those precautions breaks down, the water stops flowing, and an emergency light flashes on the metal roof, which Tony can see from his neighboring cottage.
But problems are few. They put up a sign for the teenagers who flock to this remote spot at night, asking them not to write on the kiosk, and the graffiti mostly stopped. Visitors are welcome to take pictures with the disposable camera that's almost always here, inside a jar. Tom develops the film and posts the photos on wood-paneling pages that hang on the front of the kiosk. He also has posted all of the nearly 2,000 shots online at www.tree-dweller.com, and if you see yourself and want a copy, he'll e-mail you one.
The spring is listed on www.ohiotourism.com (with the 18 holes of Xtreme Golf that they run, on the honor system, next door), but it's not just a tourist attraction.
"The thing is, the water tastes good," Tom says. "That's why people come back."
And come back they do, 24 hours a day, from all over the region, some for all their drinking and cooking water.
Besides the taste, says neighbor Cindy Hollingsworth, "there's no whatever they put in it" -- that is, put in "city water." On purpose, to purify it, or by accident, when it's in the river. "And I know it's tested," Hollingsworth says as she fills four jugs. "And it's reasonable." She makes fun of herself for what she used to do, "buying tap water at the grocery store."
Tom says the Seven Creeks taste comes from what's not in it -- chlorine -- and the minerals that are, including manganese sulfate, as well as tiny clay particles called colloids. The very scientific analysis is posted on the kiosk, with their motto: "Water I Trust."
Whatever the case, folks swear by it. The family also sells the water from a portable kiosk (with a 500-gallon tank) at a market in Wintersville. Tom says, financially, they're just breaking even, but they're considering expanding and maybe even going into bottling.
Meanwhile, for the work, you can't beat a self-serve spring. Tony, who's 79, says he once was sitting in a Steubenville bar when his buddies asked, "Shouldn't you be minding your store?"
"Hell, I don't have to be there," Tony said, probably grinning then, too.
"Here" is a weekly feature produced by Post-Gazette photographers and writers who roam the region to capture close-up slices of life. Can you point us to a special person or place, experience or story? E-mail here@post-gazette.com.
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