"FREE: One Olympic-sized swimming pool, tennis courts, one nine-hole golf course and 113 assorted buildings. Located on 181 acres of choice Chester County countryside, ideally located close to Philadelphia." So read the first paragraph of Julie Dunlap's article in The Daily Republican (now The Phoenix) on June 13, 1974.

She was talking about Valley Forge General Hospital. VFGH had stood strong for 31 years, saving patients and changing lives. In 1950, the government had tried to close the hospital only to revalidate it in the face of the Korean War. Over two decades later, however, Vietnam was slowing down and upkeep expenses were becoming too vast for the army to continue running the facilities.

The order came in April 1973 that Valley Forge would be one of 224 military bases to close according to an article in The Daily Republican. At that time, the article added, the staff included 1600 employees, 822 of which were civilians. Locals protested in an effort to protect Phoenixville's economy, but it is hard to argue the need for a hospital where 1600 staff members are treating only 387 patients. In December 1973, the hospital released its last in-patient and employees began being transferred or discharged in waves.

Connie Yusko remembers crying when she heard the hospital would be closing. Yusko worked in the public affairs office for seven years and the hospital had become her social life, she said. Many of her friends and coworkers followed a remnant of the hospital called the United States Army Materiel Command to Fort Dietrich, Md. while others married soldiers and left town. Fewer than 600 employees remained to run the closing facilities according to an article in Today's Post on December 24, 1974. Most of the 113 buildings were closed down and the hospital maintained an out-patient ward until May 1974.

Finally, the last civilian and military employees left behind a dusty, desolate campus where they had spent more time playing bridge than treating patients. On the rainy evening of June 28, 1974, Valley Forge General Hospital was deactivated, leaving behind a 31-year legacy.

"About all that will remain of the hospital after Friday is its reputation: a reputation for developing eye and plastic surgery, for treatment of infectious hepatitis and for its orthopedic, pulmonary and psychiatric care," mourned The Times Herald that day.

As Dunlap's article suggests, this was not the end for those ideally located acres of land on Charlestown Road. Something would have to be done with the property. When land is declared excess to defense needs by the General Services Administration in the U.S. armed forces, the land is passed onto federal agencies. If none of them can use the land, its reconversion is the responsibility of the state, county and local governments, according to The Daily Republican on May 18, 1973. The decision rested with the residents of Phoenixville.

The closing of the hospital cost Phoenixville 1,200 jobs and almost $16 million. The community was told to work together to decide what use would best serve their area, but they were unable to agree on one project.

A use-study committee of 17 people was created to find the best solution for the surplus land. Reconversion proposals included a childcare facility/emergency shelter/rehabilitation center for single mothers, a geriatrics center, a cemetery, a public park, a community college and a veterans' nursing home.

The nursing home, proposed by the State of Pennsylvania, seemed to be the most promising project, with funding coming from both the Veteran's Administration and the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, which offered a 100 percent discount on the land were it used for one of those three things. However, such a job would only create 100-200 jobs, reported Dunlap's article.

When the idea was scrapped, some residents literally took the news sitting down. By 1975, The Daily Republican became The Evening Phoenix and on March 17, they reported that nine young adults and one parent were evicted from the grounds of the former hospital where they had been staging a sit-down protest on the chapel steps. Veterans themselves had also threatened to protest two weeks earlier, saying that the government was discriminating against them. HEW argued that a veterans home would be discriminatory because it would not be available for public use, according to The Mercury on February 27.

A decision was not reached on the land and it passed back into government hands. It was at this time that the Rev. Obie L. Harrup, president of Northeast Bible College came before the use-study committee and presented his plan for use of the land, according to a written history in the archives at Valley Forge Christian College.

"On June 24, 1976 the Use Committee voted unanimously to allocate 77 acres and 70 buildings to the college for educational purposes only. On August 3, 1976, Dr. Harrup signed the deed with the government officials, thus making it possible to receive the largest grant given to a religious institution in the 200 years of American history," said the written account.

And so VFGH transformed into a Christian college. But with the many people fighting against other possible uses, even more were outraged to hear that a Christian college had gotten federal funding. Suddenly an issue that once involved only Phoenixville had the country in an uproar.

See next week's article where Northeast Bible College changes its name to Valley Forge Christian College and is locked into a legal battle redefining church vs. state.

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