t age 2 years and 3 months, little Jerome Coonon was bright beyond expectations.

“He was a friendly child. Everyone liked him. He was smart. He already knew his ABCs,” said Kathy Umberger of Lebanon, Jerome’s sister.

She said Jerome knew how to entertain himself and could be trusted not to wander. The toddler usually sat in the backyard and hammered nails into small, empty tobacco tins given to him by his grandfather.

That’s where he was on April 29, 1937. He was playing in his grandparents’ backyard, the Berry household, at 223 Brown St.

Nearby, a group of boys played basketball.

Buddy Moyer, Ben Herring, Herbie Schickram and George Fredericks were shooting hoops using a peach basket.

Jerome saw the activity and approached the gate.

“You’re not allowed out of the yard. Go back and play in your sandbox,” said Fredericks.

The toddler went back and sat, satisfied with a toy truck and shovel. Fredericks and his buddies played ball for perhaps the next half-hour. It was getting close to supper.

At that point, Jerome’s grandmother came to call him. But oddly, her calls were met with silence.

Jerome had disappeared. Almost as if he’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace - and never seen again.

Search includes FBI

The mysterious disappearance launched the largest investigation in Tamaqua history.

The Coonon drama drew state police, the governor’s office, even the FBI.

The town was turned upside down. Every tunnel was searched, every mine hole scoured, every house, sewer, and swimming hole scrutinized.

Unprecedented rewards were offered for his return.

Tamaqua became the center of intense broadcasts nationwide by WJZ Radio, New York, capturing the country’s attention for months in an era before television.

But all search teams, local police, firefighters, state police and FBI came up empty.

Fredericks, now deceased, is believed to be the last person to see and speak with Jerome.

In 2012, at age 86, the U.S. Army veteran said he believed in his heart Jerome fell into the backyard outhouse. It was an unusual outhouse, fed by an underground mountain stream swollen from spring rains.

“The boy never left that backyard and there was nobody else around. He was wearing a red jacket and light tan coveralls.”

Fredericks said a red jacket was found at the outhouse but he’s unsure what became of it.

Fredericks said there simply was no other explanation. He came forward on Sunday, April 29, 2012 - exactly 75 years to the day of Jerome’s disappearance.

In the twilight of his life, he wanted to tell his story.

“I told them he never came out of the yard; maybe he fell down the toilet. They (Citizens Fire Company) tried poking down there but couldn’t get anything out.”

Still, Fredericks thought the search party, equipped with pike hooks, didn’t take him seriously because he was a child of only 10 or 11.

“I felt they didn’t want to talk to a kid.”

He died a year after telling his story.

Some 45 minutes after Jerome disappeared, neighbor Charles Jeffries reported hearing a child crying along with screams mingled with the word “Daddy.”

The source of the voice could not be found.

Other possibility

Not everyone is sold on the idea that Jerome fell into any kind of hole and somehow eluded discovery or rescue.

Many, including his family, suspect he was kidnapped, possibly by a childless couple.

They have reasons for thinking so. Jerome always stayed put, they claim. He didn’t travel outside of his comfort zone and was an exceptionally bright child. Fredericks, too, said Jerome had remarkable vocabulary.

He smiled and was lovable - the kind of child any family would want. Did someone, perhaps a neighbor or visitor in Tamaqua’s densely populated North Ward, reach over the fence and grab him?

“My mother said Jerome never wandered away,” claimed Umberger, youngest of five siblings, three of whom were born after Jerome’s disappearance.

Older sister Phyllis, age 4 at the time of the disappearance, became the wife of Robert Zeird. She passed in January 2008, age 75. Sister Joan also is deceased.

The Coonons’ son Daniel was a U.S. Marine who tragically lost his life in 1968 at age 25 during combat in Vietnam.

“My parents had no luck with boys,” said Umberger.

The loss of Jerome took a toll. The family moved 50 miles away to Lebanon, where they displayed Jerome’s portrait on a bedroom bureau.

“My mother never gave up hope. She felt that someone took Jerome who wanted him as their own. She prayed every night that they’d have a conscience and would bring him back.”

Was he OK? Would they see him again? The uncertainty was haunting.

“We learned to cope with life and do what we had to do,” said Umberger.

One day, while the parents were watching the TV game show “Jeopardy!” a contestant identified himself as Jerome Coonon.

Shocked, they jumped to the phone and called the production studio to find out if the man was their son. But it was a false alarm. The heartache continued.

“We always hoped my mom would find out what happened so that she could have peace going to her grave.”

But closure never came. Beatrice Coonon passed at age 81. Her husband already was gone, passing at 72.

Umberger is the sole remaining family member. She alone carries the torch. And she wonders.

If alive, Jerome Coonon is 87.