Unlike most Pennsylvania towns of its size, Valleyview was isolated by the mountain range, with nary a metropolitan area to cleave to for commercial support. Its main economic driver was the state park itself, which lured thousands of ill-prepared campers from New York and New Jersey to its fold each summer. In the fall, hundreds of blaze-orange hunters descended on the town, postcard-sized state hunting licenses dangling in waterproof pouches from ugly hats that smelled of basement storage. Its isolation kept Valleyview off Wal-Mart’s lead-target list and in a permanent state of soda-shop commerce, with a Main Street that housed Walinsky’s hardware and camp store, Tom’s Gunnery, the Sunrise Diner and a gift shop. A small supermarket stayed stocked up on dry fire wood, tin foil, hot dogs, marshmallows and bug spray. There was an entire aisle dedicated to travel-size toiletries. A left turn at the end of Main Street took the more adventurous past a public library that was housed in the town’s first full-service gas station, complete with one large garage bay that was now home to three internet-ready computers and the children’s book collection.
