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 September 21 1922 discussed the political speeches, Hound And Hare [Hide and Seek] and Halloween antics.

GAMES AND SPORTS

During the fall of almost every year, the political pot was kept boiling by the almost continuous campaigns of the two great parties. Pennsylvania has always occupied an important and prominent place in several great movements of our history. In the Revolution her Independence Hall view with Fanueil Hall for first honors as bases of anti-British propaganda, and while the Bay State may have had more fights on her record, she did not outdo the Keystone State in real suffering. While Washington took command under the oak still standing near Harvard, he was at Valley Forge the extreme suffering of the soldiers that had fought with him from the beginning. There was something in the blood of the Pennsylvanians that welcomed and harbored the spirit of liberty, and resistance to oppression. And so before the Civil War the anti-slavery movement crystallized in Philadelphia by the gathering together of women like Lucretia Mott and men like the poet Whittier, who travelled from Boston to be at the first demonstration against human slavery in this country. As Washington wore the British down in the campaign around Philadelphia, so the South met its quieters at Gettysburg in the old state. How well do I recall the excitement when the Rebs got as far North as Gettysburg, with some near and around Harrisburg. The trains were bringing into Milton people with bed ticks and pillows filled with household utensils, and there was much work, and talk of their coming up our way. But, as some one has said, the tide was turned at Gettysburg, and the battle fought there is recorded in the books as one of the great and decisive battles in the world's history.

After the war great political and economic issues remained to be settled. The cost of the war was an important issue, but this cost was so distributed that those who went to fight came home to pay for their keep, and ammunition, while they were away. The national debt, then as now, was a theme of much discussion. The reorganization of the recalcitrant states was another, and free-trade and tariff were discussed on every stump.

About the first political slogan I remember was "Lincoln is a gentleman, McClellan is a fool, Lincoln rides a white horse, McClellan rides a mule," which the boys sang all over town.

During these campaigns both parties had their torch light processions, Jed by one or more bands of music, while the sidewalks were crowded with women and boys who looked on and cheered. Outdoor meetings, with outdoor speaking, were held in the afternoons and evenings. Speaking platforms were erected in Upper Market Street and in the park space at Broadway and Front Street; and these were not removed till after election. A political meeting in those days brought crowds from the country round and benches were provided in front of the stands for the ladies. When I first saw the camp meeting grounds at Pine, below Lock Haven—to which Sunday excursions were run, I remarked the similarity to the political arrangements at Milton. Noted orators were brought from different parts of the state, especially during the Geary gubernatorial campaign. Our own Governor Pollock was a drawing card and I heard him at every appearance. The boards of e which the speakers platforms were made extended out in front just below the counter or desk where the speaker stood and I generally sat on this extension right under the speaker. When he stamped his foot on the floor, pounded the counter with his fists, raised his arms and emphasized his points with swaying and shaking of his body I got the benefit of it all; but what today seems strange to me I is that I never tired of listening to the speakers. I could see the faces in the audience as they reflected approval or disapproval of the political argument, and this perhaps helped me to follow and understand what was said.

It was mostly about the war, reconstruction, money, wages, crops, protection and prosperity. One night on Front Street while I was leaning against a tree in front of "Squire" Lawson's house, Governor Pollock was answering the attack of candidate Seymour on the cost of the war, which the Democrats were criticizing. When he told of the number of chickens in the United States and the number of, 1 eggs they laid and the value in the market of said eggs, and then claimed that the hens of the nation could pay the whole debt in three years, and, if the hens could do that much for their country, what a small task it would be I if the rest of us would get in and help. The crowd cheered and laughed and yelled as if the election were already won, as it was soon after.

That war left us with a debt of three billions, a part of which is still unpaid. The late war has burdened us with twenty-three billions, and it will I be a miracle if the twelve billions, 1 owing us by foreign governments which we pulled out of the hole, are I not cancelled so that we will have a thirty-five billion burden to crush us. If it took us seventy years to pay three billions, it will take us seven hundred years to pay the present debt, by which time some future historian will be telling future generations of the rise and fall of the great American republic, for thus it is that civilization treads its bloody way.

Politics were hotter in those days than in these, excepting perhaps the Blaine-Cleveland contest and the very air was filled with political discussion. The Miltonian office at this time was in a frame building where the post-office is now located. The door was at the corner towards Hackenbergs; and near it was a large window on the Front Street side. In the Miltonian office, during the day, much discussion I, took place. I remember when "Will" ' Mervine was editor, and Morton and Hackenberg, the lawyer, and others I would gather there and talk. I could just sit in the window and listen to it.

These political gatherings in the day time in Upper Market Street were the occasions of other than political scraps. The country boys, doing farm work, met the town boys in wrestling matches and general fisticuffing on the outer edge of the crowds. The Billmeyer and Hottenstein boys met the Wilhelm and other boys year after year and they always fought. Frank Wilhelm was a match for any of them and he never passed up the dare. so they would adjourn to a space behind a church on the next street and have it out, withcut disturbing the meeting. But there were very few fights in Milton. I recall but one that came to blows. It was in the lumber pile back of the planing mill between "Gen" Baker and one Moore. Their grudge could only be settled in this way and when the time and place were announced the ring was formed. After Baker knocked Moore down, they shook hands, undressed and went swimming, and it was all forgotten. But the Hei-nan-Sayre fight was much talked about when I was quite small and listened to the discussions of the grownups.

There was no hall, excepting Haag's, for holding big meetings. The market house with its large hall had not been built, the Academy was too far away and the outdoors was convenient and roomy for both sides. An Englishman visiting this country during a political campaign was much surprised to hear that Republicans never attended Democratic meetings, and that the Democrats paid in kind. The Englishman had attended both and concluded it was useless to understand the merits of a question without hearing both sides of the discussion, When I dropped in at the Catholic church on Walnut street I often hoped to hear a sermon, so I could form an opinion of what that church taught. I think that most Miltonians heard both sides patiently and enjoyed the campaigns, state and national, as they came along.

Along about election time, before Winter set in, but when frost came we played a game called "Hounds and Hare," which kept the blood in circulation and the body warm.

On the northern corner of Front and Broadway stood the home of Dr. Waldron, celebrated for his liver pills. Picture to yourself an entire corner running as far back as the alley and with at least 100 feet frontage on Front Street. A wooden fence surrounded this property and in the lot was a large frame house where lived the doctor. At the foot of the lot at the 'corner of the alley was a one-story brick building, untenanted. What it was built for originally I know not— it might have been a lawyer's office— but later a butcher came from Harrisburg and opened a meat shop, about the first one of the kind in town. During the years it was empty it became the evening rendezvous of at least fifty boys who played the game. When all had assembled they chose sides, each side having a leader. A horn was used - sometimes the boat-man's brass horn with a curl in it— at others a straight tin horn. Lots were drawn to determine which side went out and which staid in. The side that went out followed the leader, who had the horn, up the alley to Walnut or Market Street where he would carefully direct them where to hide. The boundary was Broadway to Church Lane, River to Canal, Stables, wood-sheds, shops, trees and other places held the outs, or hiders. After a bit three blasts of the horn were sounded when the "ins" began the hunt up the alley, over the fences and every-where that any one might hide. It was not enough to see, but the hunted must be actually caught before he reached back home. If a majority of those sent out reached home before being caught the game was won and they went out again. This game was played far into the night. It was exciting and interesting and caused many a race in the streets and alleys, over fences, and from stables to the brick building on the corner. The upper side of Broadway at that time had no business places excepting Nagles, and the Buoy cabinet makers shop next the alley, and the town authorities seldom interfered with any of the games or sports played in the streets.

But perhaps the liveliest of all the nights excepting the "Fourth", was Hallowe'en, "Hollow Eve" it was called then. It consisted not only in pumpkin faces, lighted with candles, and the innocent tick-tack that the smaller boys attached to the outer side of windows to disturb or amuse the inmates. But the "rough-house" often began with stockings filled with flour with which the holder would hit a passerby on the back or on the cheek or elsewhere leaving a quantity of the flour as he ran away. Anything that would annoy seemed admissible. The changing of hanging gates where they would fit, and the changing of signs was common. Any doctor might wake in the morning to see a dressmaker's sign over his door or vice versa, Wagons and even animals were taken from stables and put in other stables by the indomitable spirits of the marauders. One night several wagons were brought in from the country and run into the canal below Broadway, and as navigation was still open they blocked the boats. This was followed by an investigation, but "mum" was the word, There was a large crane at the Pennsy freight house used for leading or unloading heavy boxes and car wheels. On top of this and astraddle the very upper beam a wagon was swung so that it took nearly a day to remove it. On Murray's crane the boys, or men, hung boxes and wagons during the night hours. What these larger boys would accomplish in spirit of mischief during the night could not have been duplicated in days, if it was mere work. But, like Christmas, it only came once a year and they made the most of it. Occasionally the victim of these tricksters caught in the act and punished one of them, but he was remembered until the next year when something unusual and unexpected was visited upon him.

But what of the girls, you ask. They in evening dresses paraded up and down Front street, visited the ice cream parlors, of which there was one on nearly every block and retired early. I often asked myself what the grownups did for amusement. They couldn't play marbles, or ball, or hunt the hare, or participate in the real live "stuff," "What do they do with themselves?" I dreaded the day when I would be grown up, but when the day came I found their amusements were far ahead of ours. Yet like Byron's Prisoner of Chalon: "And even I regained my freedom with a sigh."

JAMES P. KOHLER.

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