Valley Girl Views: Reminiscences of Milton by J.P. Kohler

In the 1920's, Attorney James Pollock Kohler wrote a series of letters about his early years as a boy in Milton Pa. The Miltonian published them under the heading "Reminiscences of Milton by J.P; Kohler".

This letter, published on October 6th 1921, talks of the shows, performances, circus, and general entertainment in the Milton area in the late 1860s.

AMUSEMENTS

The season's novel, "Main Street," gives us in peculiarly delicate touches a portraiture of the character, amusements and public functioning of the modern town of six to eight thousand inhabitants, and those who read it will find mirrored in its lines the familiar features of their friends and acquaintances and of themselves, perhaps. But as you move the hands backwards on your clock, you find that each decade has almost entirely changed the form and kinds of amusement and probably that a complete substitute has been introduced. For instance, the automobile has taken the place of the horse and buggy, the moving pictures of the cinematograph, the place of the magic lantern that only reproduced photographs. And thus it may be difficult, in recalling the amusements of half a century ago, to picture understandingly to the modern reader the zest, interest and whole-hearted enjoyment of those who lived in Milton when it was only half its present size. But I can assure you that a carriage ride behind a team of well groomed horses from Milton to Limestoneville and over to Pottsgrove and back via Montandon, and to Danville and back, with dirt roads under you, made you feel that life was worth the living, even if the speed was less.

Some of the amusements came to town from outside, some were adopted and other indigenous.

Tom Thumb, 3'4" tall, and his wife, 2'8" tall, toured the country with their miniature carriages and miniature ponies

When Tom Thumb and Minnie Warren, in their miniature carriage, drawn by four miniature ponies, paraded the streets, previous to an exhibition in the Academy on Market street and Academy avenue, the whole town was on the sidewalk to witness the miniature parade, while the smaller boys and girls surrounded the equipage as it moved along.

When Signor Blitz, of World-wide fame, gave his incomparable panorama, "The Burning of Moscow," in the same academy, the hall was too small to hold his audience. This Signor Blitz was a very small man with a bald head, as I learned while, beating a drum behind the scenes as his wooden soldiers were marching' across the stage but on announcement in his distributed circulars that his "great and unparalleled exhibition" would appear at the Academy on such and such a date impatience of his arrival burned in every childish breast and when his screen showed a sleeping Dutchman in nightcap, opening his mouth with great regularity to swallow a jumping mouse that appeared and disappeared with like regularity even the adults burst their sides with laughter. That was as far as the "movies" went in those days, but they seemed to serve. His revolving kaleidoscope, showing rings upon rings of rapidly changing colors, was another contrivance that excited curiosity.

But the "Burning of Moscow" was the acme, climax and all-in-all of his show, The curtain went up on a town or city of wooden houses in the foreground, with church steeples in the rear, with one uncovered bridge across one single stream with the Kremlin and public buildings here and there, and, to make it more real, the houses were lighted up and there were lights on the solitary bridge. This was Moscow. Peaceful and quiet she lay, for no citizens were stirring, until off in the distance came the beat of a drum, denoting the marsh of soldiers. As the drum grew louder now and then a cannon ball would be hurled with sufficient accuracy to knock over a church steeple or demolish a public building, In due course, the drum reached the bridge in the center of the stage and the wooden artillery, cavalry and infantry in full view of the audience, marched and halted, and marched and halted again, until they had passed over the bridge. Meanwhile, other steeples took fire, and houses began to burn and the soldiers began to hurry and an improvised explosion blew up some public buildings, when the curtain descended and the audience reluctantly dispersed, many of them to see the same steeples, houses and soldiers the following night. Few in that audience appreciated the historical significance of the picture. When the Russian Emperor was informed that Napoleon was about to pay him a visit and that he would, bring his army along with him, he said: Let him come, I have two generals that can whip him!" When asked to name them, as no generals had yet been found to do the trick, the Emperor replied: "Generals January and February." And so it proved. In all the annals of warfare from the beginning of the world, no such pathetic picture has been seen as the invasion of and retreat from Russia by the French emperor. His soldiers not only ate the horses and mules of his army but the very harnesses, as they starved and froze on their long journey back to France. Had there been no Moscow, there would have been no Waterloo; had there been no invasion of Russia, England would probably be French today and all of Europe, as Napoleon predicted, republic. The eminent bald-headed "Signor" might have said as much in a few words to his audience, but perhaps he was not acquainted with the facts, like an eminent Shakespearian actor, invited to read the Declaration of Independence at a 4th of July celebration, who confessed that as all the facts were new to him the "piece," though beautifully written, did not enlist his enthusiasm.

A few words about the Academy may be pertinent, if not material, I well remember when the foundation trenches were being dug. The Academy occupied one of the three prominent bluffs behind the town, the two cemeteries, and their dead, being in possession of the other two. It was built on a hill at the head of Upper Market street, was a two-story brick structure and the upper story was used for entertainments, lectures, festivals, public meetings, etc. On the lower floor was, first, the private school of Doctor Wiley and afterwards, of Col. Wright. There was considerable ground around the building and it I was all fenced with a low picket fence, as the car shops had not been started, and as the bluff was cut almost to a perpendicular by the railroad builders it was much frequented by those who enjoyed the view up and down the valley. The steeples at Lewisburg were quite visible while the gap near the Montgomery bridge was in full view, with all that lay between. Some day when the smoke is less a lookout may be built on this knob which will prove an inspiration to those to come as the hill and building did to those already gone.

In this hall the colored brethren gave an entertainment in which Robert Topin, a prominent colored citizen and pillar of their church, recited: "When This Old Hat Was New," to an admiring audience of white sympathizers— for this was not long after the emancipation proclamation and the entertainment was duplicated the following night.

Many minstrel shows came to town and the good ones were appreciated and well patronized. The local talent imitated the song, dance and bone artists and, after practicing for weeks in the unused school room of the Broadway School that I have already described, they would show their blackened faces to the townspeople.

The church frowned upon the circus ' as it did upon the dance, but as the "dear children" should have a chance to see the wild animals and as they would not be safe unless the parents took charge of them the circus business prospered, The biggest circuses pitched tents on the ball grounds, across from the Pennsy depot and one night an elephant pulled stakes and walked through the fence of an adjoining cornfield and required much coaxing to change his diet from fresh growing corn to the accustomed dry hay. The fascination of peanuts, lemonade, the clowns, acrobats, trapeze artists and horses and riders exists today as it did them.

One year Barnum appeared at Williamsport and ten per cent of the Miltonians went to see the "greatest combination of" etc., on earth. Waiting in a vast crowd on the Herdic House platform for Erie Mail east after the show, a cry of distress went up: "He's got my watch!" which was my first and only experience with a pick-pocket. Williamsport was the Mecca of those days from Lock Haven to Sunbury and nowhere else was the real Barnum show to be seen.

Note - Barnum got his start with Hugh Lindsay. Lindsay retired to Milton PA, and wrote his memoir while living there.

This elephant in Williamsport visited many years after the one Kohler saw

See More Elephants Visiting The Valley Here

The first elephant my eyes beheld was coming up Front street, south of the bridge. A man on a horse rode at his front leg. I was astonished at his size. He was a wise elephant, Hannibal, as I remember, his name. Before ' going on the bridge he stopped, put out one paw, bore down, shook his head, then his other paw, and then he turned and was led around the buildings and across the creek underneath.

Until Haag's Hall was built, I do not recall seeing any theatrical troupe in Milton, But on its completion it was opened with a whole week of intense drama,, Sherry, with his immaculate collection of artists, gave us "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "(repeated by request), "Ten Hights in a Bar Room," and several others, whose titles have escaped me. A quarter dollar would let the boys in, but with standing room only. When the hall was thus opened the scaffolding in front of the building was yet standing. Boys who couldn't raise the quarter could climb the scaffolding and many were thus first introduced to the drama by coming through the window. A very excellent local band (I forget the I leader) played before the Huff House, where the troupe stopped, before each performance. Little Eva, who went to heaven one night, sang, "Father, Dear Father Come Home," in a saloon the next night, but on the whole the performances were not so bad and the house was packed. I saw a better show a year or two later at Lock Haven. It was "The French Spy" by Mlle. Zoe as the Spy. What agility, grace, beauty and all else attractive. As she bounded from behind over the paste board wall of a Spanish fort, dressed as a zouave, and drawing her sword, fenced with the soldiers in her way, killing all of them, of course, I entered the seventh heaven of exaltation. She left on the Elmira mail east the next morning and I determined to see this beauty in her street clothes. She proved to be at least fifty, with a hairy mole on her face as big as a quarter and with enough embonpoint to disillusion me and make me aware of the tricks of her trade. I could not imagine how such a fat woman could jump over the wall of a fort but I concluded that she must have been hoisted over.

The Irish Bell Ringers came to town, concert singers and choruses, lectures, sleight of hand men, and in the streets the trained horses of the medicine venders with bottled cure-alls for the gullible.

A famous jumper named Bow Way, came through, challenging all corners, and Charley Fisher, a Lewisburg boy, who was operator at the P. and E. depot, gave him a match under the trees near the depot. The great Bob had all he could do to out-jump Charley, who was a well known athlete and boxer, and a great favorite with the ladies as well. With the dumb bells he could jump nearly twelve feet standing.

JAMES P. KOHLER.

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