Lynne O. Ramer's "Stories and Sagas" of Reedsville, Mifflin County 100 Years Ago

Between 1959 and 1971 my grandfather Lynne O. Ramer wrote hundreds of letters to his hometown newspaper which were published by Ben Meyers in his We Notice That column.

Lynne O. Ramer, age six

Today I am sharing Gramp's memories of a hundred years ago in which he recalls people and places in and around Reedsville, PA. I have added information about the people mentioned in the article wherever possible.

*****

August 1, 1960

We Notice That
By Ben Meyers
The Heights       Phone 8-8430

‘Twont Be Yours Again
Hustle this moment to yourself and hold it close,
and warm it with your flesh.
But do not spoil the new and uncut cloth of time
Around yourself, enhancing you.
Turn it gently, fit it, give it shape
And do not overstrain the weave.
You want it perfect, strong, unmended, whole.
It won’t be yours again.

Dear Ben: No, it won’t be ours again, to recall the memories of those olden, golden days back in Mifflin County. So I’ll include a few more for the sake of your readers who like to linger in memory’s lane.

He has passed to his reward, but Hyman Cohen* often recalled the time when it was my privilege as Boy Scout counsel or to initiate him into the mysteries of frying eggs on a heated rock, then making them the basis for a grand outdoors meal.

Also he leaned how to mix water and flour and wrap it round a stick and bake his own bread. And eat it amid the glories and wonders which Mother Nature so lavishly furnished.

I still remember those days. Also how I used to attend Mr. Cohen’s theatre, the Embassy, also the Rialto, long ago in the silent movie days.

If Jimmy Mann* were here, he would recall all the series of boy’s books I borrowed from his library.  Also the pheasant-on-toast I once dined upon at his folks’ table. (Haven’t had any since either!) Jimmy’s books were the beginning of a liberal education for me: Rover Boys, Rocky Mountain Boys, Motorboat Boys, mentioning just a few.

Of course “Boozer” (Lester Charles) Bobb* of Valley St. and I used to hide the contraband books such as Jesse James, Liberty Boys of ’76, A-One Books of Hobo Life, etc., in the barn and read them where Nammie [pet name for his grandmother Rachel Barbara Reed Ramer] wouldn’t catch us. And we got them all from old “Al” Nale*, Civil War veteran, Milroy’s last member of the GAR.

If Jim Young, my Reedsville pal*, is around, tell him I remember his dad’s bakery with its luscious pastries. Also how I almost broke my hip, slamming into a tree on Young’s Hills and how his mother massaged my bruised hip. And was I ever embarrassed at the age of ten!

Frank Barr would remember the time when he advanced threateningly to the front of Reedsville seventh grade room where the teacher, Mr. Manwiller, was chasing his girl friend, Hazel Shupe*.
At the instant Frank arrived up front, with clenched fists, Charles Hilbish*, principal, stepped in. Now wasn’t that a tableau! And we were all so disappointed, for we thought it would be a feast of fists---Barr vs. Manwiller.  But it all vanished into nothing.

Lynne O. Ramer, left, in his first long pants at age 15

purchased by his Uncle Charles Smithers in 1919

Stories and Sagas

Stories and sagas about the Rev. A. H. Spangler*, Lutheran divine of Yeagertown-Reedsville-Alfarata in the first decades of the present century, are legion and probably growing in numbers.
Thus, like Lincoln, if Mr. Spangler lived all the events he is reputed to have experienced, he’d have to be living still. And in the memories of many former parishioners, he probably is.

It’s well known that he outlived two wives and was married to a third. His jovial companions oft queried, “When will you make it a home run,” that is, “outlive a third and a fourth wife?”

This story about the Rev. Mr. Spangler comes from Mrs. Maude Ramer*, 7 Linn St., Harrisburg.  [Editor’s note: LOR wrote “Lives in Drexel Hill, PA (1965)”]

It seems the clergyman and Harry W. Ramer*, first principal of the now absorbed Burnham High School, were very good friends. At one time Dr. Spangler was sick and his family doctor prescribed pills and whiskey. At some banquet which Harry attended Dr. Spangler spoke thus: “I am glad to be here. I have been sick, in fact, sick enough to die. If I had died it would have been too bad because Mrs. Spangler here (seated beside him) waited so long and wanted to make home rum.

“But now I have recovered due, I believe, to the fact that when the doctor inquired about my progress in taking the prescribed medicines, I was able to tell him, ‘Although I might be a day or two behind on the pills, I’m several days ahead on the whiskey!”

This apparently was said at a public gathering and is typical Spanglersque. I would not detract one whit or one iota from his revered memory, but thought you’d like to hear this bit of folklore.

I sat in the pews of Dr. Spangler’s church in Reedsville during 1913-15 and preached my very first sermon (a horrible thing, if I must say so) in the pulpits he once graced—Yeagertown and Alfarata.  That was back in 1925 when I was still a seminarian at Susquehanna University.

The time draweth nigh when a bus load of 50 PA Dutchmen invade the Motor City en route to the famed Wisconsin “Dells” from the Harrisburg-York-Hanover area. John L. Getz*, now of York’s Hannah-Penn Junior High School faculty, will be the leader. He’s my former fellow teacher-neighbor from Kane. A Michigander spots a Pennsylvanian for the latter always refers to his home state as PA.

     Sincerely,
     Lynne O. Ramer
     514 Gardenia Ave.,
     Royal Oak, Mich.

[Editor’s note: LOR wrote: “Dr. Spangler was once president of the “S.U.’s board” and “Lottie: I wrote this right after a trip ‘home.’ This is the last year I met you and Kep! (No! 1962!)” My grandfather often sent the articles to friends, who returned them. This clipping must have been forwarded it to Lottie to read.]

*****
Notes:
* Hyman Julius Cohen (b. 1878 in Lithuania, d. 1952) appears on the census with his wife Lena and their children Harold, Miriam, Wilton, Miles, Isabella, Solomon and Samuel. In 1910 and 1920 he owned a clothing store. In 1940 his occupation was listed as Real Estate. The 1930 census shows his son Harold D. was a theater manager. The City Directory of 1929 shows the family owned the Embassy Theater at 380 S. Main in Lewistown.

* Jimmy Mann appears in the records as James Hutchinson Mann (b. 1900) to Walter Mann and
Mary A. The 1920 Brown Twsp, Mifflin Co. Census shows Walter manufactured lumber. Lynne's grand-father Joseph S. Ramer had operated a saw mill. In 1930 James was an office clerk living with his uncle Percy G. Mann.

*Lester Charles Bobb (1895-1981)was Lynne's cousin, the son of his mother's sister Carrie Viola Ramer Bobb. After the death of Lynne's mother Esther Mae Ramer, he and "Boozer" were staying with their grandmother Barbara Rachel Reed Ramer when she died. Lynne then lived with his Aunt Carrie or Aunt Annie Ramer Smithers.

* Albert Weidman Nale (1844-1932) See more at Find A Grave here.

*The James Youngs I found, of which there are several generations by that name in a Reedsville
family, did not have an occupation of running a bakery on the census.

*The 1910 Brown Twsp, Armagh County, PA census shows Hazel Shupe/Shoop 9b 29015, d 1998) was the daughter of William P. Shupe and Edith G. She had siblings Andrew C., and Rebecca. William was an axe polisher in an axe factory. The 1920 census shows Hazel was a department store clerk.

*Charles Edgar Hilbush was a 1909 Bucknell University graduate from Northumberland. The 1910 Census in Northumberland shows him living at home, working with his father in real estate at age 25, with parents John and Melissa and siblings John and Sara. A WWII draft card show Charles, age 57, was the Sunbury County Superintendent.

*The Reverend Alexander Hamilton Spangler appears on the 1900 Derry Township Census with his wife Cynthia and their sons Thaddeus and Luther who both worked in the steel mill.
Find A Grave has his obituary of Feb. 21, 1924 published in the Lewistown Sentinel:

Rev. Spangler was born near Shanksville, a son of Daniel & Sophia (Myers) Spangler. After being educated in the local public schools he attended Wooster University in Ohio, graduating in 1873.
He began the study of law in New Bloomfield, Perry Co. and was admitted to the bar at Johnstown. In 1885 he entered Union Theological Seminary and graduated three years later. He served as pastor of the Lutheran congregations at New Bloomfield, Middleburg, Port Royal, Braddock, Yeagertown, Reedsville & Alfarata.

He was married to Cynthis Penrod in 1874. They had three sons, H. Kelly, L. Stoy & Thaddeus S., all of whom survive. [In 1920 the census shows his second wife Catherine.]

Rev. Spangler was vice president of the Saxton Coal Co., director of Saxton Vitrified Brick Co., Russell National Bank, Burnside YMCA (also 1st vice president), Gettysburg College Theological Seminary & Burnham Medicine Co., member of the board of trustees of Susquehanna University & Tressler Orphans' Home (president of the board), member of the State Democratic Committee, Masonic Lodge at Mifflintown and the Harrisburg Consistory, grand chaplain of the Masonic Order of Pennsylvania, etc.

*Harry Webster Ramer was a distant cousin of my grandfather. His wife and gramp's pen pal was Maude Shannon Ramer. Their son George Henry Ramer died in the Korean War.

*Teacher John Lewis Getz (1898-1970) appears on the 1930 Kane, PA Census and the York, PA 1940 Census with his family: wife Goldie and children John, Donald, and Richard.

Grandfather's Memories of Boyish Play, Pranks, and Paddles

My grandfather Lynne O. Ramer wrote articles for his hometown newspaper, the Lewistown Sentinel of Lewistown, Mifflin Co., PA. In one article he recalled that from 1900 to 1920 the Brock family boys of Milroy, PA were loaded with play things:

circa 1911: Gramps at play, about 8 years old, with cousins. He is pretty well dressed in a 'middy' sailor inspired suit.
 A year later he was an orphan dependent on aunts for his care.

Play Things around 1910

"First they had a home-made merry-go-round with a grand organ that produced music. It was all hand operated, much to the delight of the teens and preteens who flocked, some invited and some not, to come and enjoy the fun.

"The play room—we’d call it the recreation room nowadays—was the storage room off the kitchen. There among the pies and cookies cooked for the family use, but shared with the youngsters who came calling between meals, were the home-made playthings.

"There were hand-carved spreading fans inside of Mason jars, continuous chain links carved from one billet of wood*. There were two spinning cylinder wire cages housing chipmunks who chattered gaily all day long.

"Besides these and dozens of other games to play there were stacks of comic strips from the Williamsport Gazette and the Philadelphia North American. These consisted of the adventures of the Katzenjammer Kids, Jiggs and Maggie, Enoch Periwinkle Pickleweight, John Dubbalong and the like.

"On a rainy day there would be no less than 10 or 12 little boys deeply at their work-play reading the old “continued funnies,” grinding the hurdy-gurdy carousel and intently watching the chippies race around the insides of their wire cylinders.

"There were stacks of paperbacks of adventure characters, such as the Liberty Boys of ’76, Jesse James, Fred Fearnot, A No. 1 and every known Horatio Alger tale, Andy Grant’s Pluck, From Rags to Riches.

“And so it went for many happy hours or boyhood daze. So once more, it’s thanks to Robert, Albert and Luther Brock, not forgetting their doting mother and a kind father [James S. and Minnie Melissa Maben Brock] who realized how to keep kids happy and busy, making and using their playthings.

"The lessons learned well by the youngsters of that time. Long since grown to manhood and womanhood, is this:

“It isn't necessary to buy one’s children expensive and attractive mechanical toys, but something requiring participation. And never forget children are fondest of things they improvise themselves---cooking pans and saucers, empty thread spools, old tin cans, a handful of bright, shiny horse chestnuts.”

The Brock family included parents James S. and Minnie Melissa Maben Brock and sons Oscar Ream (b. 1890), Luther J. (b. 1902), Albert (b. 1894) and Robert (b. 1903).  Dad was a carpenter, which explained the wonderful contraptions the kids had.

Pranks around 1910

As to trouble, boys a hundred years ago had all kinds of options. Gramps wrote,

"This little story verifies the truism that “there is no perfect crime.” Somehow or in some way the wrongdoer always leaves tell-tale evidence at the scene, which betrays him. The tell-tale evidence on the occasion given herewith was a certain color. A maroon color. Not too bright. Not too brilliant, but still a dead giveaway for the wearer of it.

"The incident itself happened not a few years ago, but there are many who will still remember it when we recall it to their attention. We recite it here especially for today’s dads who are wont to claim, “Now when I was a boy, we didn't do things like you kids today!”

“We were all old enough to know better, but just old enough to think we knew best. The scheme arose from nowhere and ended in nothing—luckily—when a small band of Reedsville lads idly watched a fall threshing from Cow Field Hill.

“As the wind blew the chaff, and some grain, farther and farther from the barn, the hungry chickens kept advancing under cover of the barrage, to gobble up the banquet. Well, the poultry advance edged nearer and nearer. An idea began to form in the minds of the boys---fresh stewed chicken, mingled with tender, unripe field corn from some farmer’s fields.

“One quick grab and we had a plump, squawking Rhode Island Red rooster. His neck was quickly twisted to stop his racket. Up Cow Field Hill we scrambled fast, but not fast enough to escape the ire of the farmer whose rooster we were snatching.

“Unbeknownst to us, the farmer had obviously been watching us—and the rooster. He had taken time to arm himself with a shotgun. When we were slowed down by a barbed wire fence, the pellets began to rain mightily close, it seemed. So it was that wisdom outscored valor and we left the rooster and fled to the near-by woods, finally returning to town by a detour, around the upper end of the mill dam at Tea Creek.**

“The irate farmer guessed our devious route and he met us head on, on Main Street, and easily he spotted the maroon sweater that one of the boys was wearing. It was a case of his being known by the color—and the companions—he kept.

“It seemed the farmer had failed to see us* close enough to identify any of the boys, but he did manage to catch a good view of the maroon-colored sweater. Which proved our downfall—the one clue that showed this was no perfect crime.

“The chicken costs only one dollar. But the lesson could have been more painful if the shoguns pellets had landed you know where.

“One of that group, but this time a highly-respected Reedsville citizen, carried this experience to the grave recently. But there are others in the village who will recall it. Simple moral seems to be avoid wearing colored sweaters on escapades. But here’s a better moral: Stealing is breaking one of the divine commands—so refrain from it always.”

Maroon boy's sweater circa 1900

* Here, using the word 'us', Gramps betrayed that he was one of the culprits!
**The dam was built in 1870 by the Reedsville Milling Company. It was 14" ft high and 47 ft. long, creating a duck pond.

****

As a teacher Gramps found students could be troublesome. Actually he WAS one of those troublesome students. Later he got back what he had given. Gramps recalled,

Hartwick Seminary

"At old Hartwick Seminary in Otsego County, New York—near Cooperstown—where I taught from 1926 to 1930—about mid-June the student sneaked squibs into their rooms. Then at night they lit these firecrackers and tossed them out the window. Imagine how it startled the faculty, including me.

"There was a fire law against such things, so I watched windows one night. I caught a Philadelphia dentist’s two sons in the act. As soon as I saw one of them light a squib I yelled, “Hold it!” He did just that. It exploded in his hand. It wasn't hard to find who it was next day, for he had his hand bandaged.

"That wasn't the end of the incident. In the wee, small hours of a later night, I was suddenly aroused by a six-inch squib exploding on my chest!

"Nasal reactions to the “sulfur and brimstone” lent the impression I wasn't on earth. Needless to say we could never prove who did it. It’s very likely that he too is a Philadelphia dentist, or doctor, by now.

"The student had climbed on a ledge outside my dormitory window and tossed in the fire cracker. Before I could gather my wits, he had climbed away.

"But school boy sport was going over on long before old Hartwick days. In 1917 at Milroy High School [in Milroy, Mifflin Co., PA] some energetic boys would apply snowballs to the thermometer and Prof. Stanley Morgan would excuse the school when he read the mercury read 29 degrees at the time we called his attention to it.

"You can image the prof’s chagrin when the temperature leaped back to the 70s after everybody was on the way home. But I can’t recall we ever played with matches or explosives of any sort in MHS.

"Now to update this matter: Last Thursday at Lawrence Institute of Technology [in Southfield, MI] in a calculus class, I began to make an erasure. Suddenly the eraser exploded into a thousand Roman candles in my hand! Some energetic student had fitted a row of match heads in the felt. Friction did the usual.

"Only a few hours before that one of our college chemistry profs had a piece of chalk light up when he wrote H2O on the board. It was a match head (old fashioned kitchen kind) which had been fitted into a hole in the chalk end.

"That was quite a surprise for him and so was mine. Needless to say a good laugh was had by all and sundry, including me. But had the burning felt fallen behind my specs I likely would not be seeing so clearly—as in a mirror.

"When I was a kid we boys used to ‘find’ chickens and sweet corn for our dough bakes, but we never demolished rural mailboxes on KV’s [Kishacoquillas Valley, Mifflin Co, PA]back mountain road or stole $100 from an 80 year-old-widows.

"The State superintendent of schools in New York remarked (and that was back in 1950): “They are not bad boys and they aren't good boys either. They are just busy!” To which I add: Ain't we all! Except the ‘busy-ness” is getting to acquire some funny new formats.

*****

In another article on 'pranks, Gramps wrote about punishments no longer in use.

"The old school teacher listened patiently while the ancient mill worker related the tales of pranks that misfired in the industrial world. Then he spoke up: “And that reminds me of the pranks which boys in schools and colleges used to do and in which the present generation still indulge. Some of these happened in Mifflin County, others elsewhere that I taught.”

"In Burnham high school, the first principal to serve there punished six boys alike, whipping them for pulling one girl’s pigtails. One boy was very angry and remained so for over 50 years, because he was innocent. He was just “doodling along behind, minding my own business,” he said. In fact, he died holding the grudge. And the principal died too, never knowing one boy was still angry at him. Moral: Don’t walk behind naughty boys, said the narrator of this tale.

"This happened in the fifth grade of the Armagh Township school. A certain boy provoked the anger of the teacher, who instead of waiting to apply her oak paddle at the right spot and at closer quarters, let it fly at his head as he sat in his seat. He ducked. His companion who shared the desk in common with the other boy got whanged with the missile. Said his sympathetic grandma: “You shouldn't set with him anyways.” Moral: Be careful whom the teacher assigns you to sit with.

"In another fifth grade the text asked: “What amount of dirt is in an excavation 100’ x 100' x 50’?” One boy wrote on his slate, “None.” Said the teacher: “You’re the only one who got the wrong answer.” He replied, “I’m the only one who got the right answer. There is no dirt in an excavation.” "The book answer says 500,000 cubic feet, which proves you’re wrong,”declared the teacher. She sent him home until he could learn the correct answer. He must have never learned it, for he never came back.

"It was the custom among the older students to check their traps both before and after school. One found a skunk in his trap. Contents of the animal’s cologne sac were placed in a standard empty perfume bottle. This he proudly displayed to all the girls and then visibly hid it in his school desk. At recess he left it unguarded. Three maids who lingered shared the contents on the front of their waists. School was let out, not just for a day, but till the stench was eradicated. The lad was beat up by the girl’s males relatives—brothers, fathers, uncles. Also by his own mother, the teacher, and the principal, all using their paddles. He never forgot it. He learned his lesson. But then the girls never forgot it either.

"But paddles weren't the only weapons used on boyish pranksters. Some boys had told teacher a fib. Said she, “If you lie to me just once more, I’ll put red pepper on your tongues.” It’s human to err. Came the time to administer the punishment. There was a lot of scrambling and bawling. But that all ended abruptly, for the hot stuff turned out to be merely ground cinnamon. Proving that imagination is stronger than realization. But the kids didn't forget. Teacher got straight answers after that.

"The exam question was, “What is 6 feet wide and 1 feet deep?” One boy wrote on his slate, “It's an outhouse.” Teacher sent him home, “until you learn to be respectful.” Days later she readmitted him. Came another exam. Same question. Seeing the lad reach for his hat and jacket, she said “Where are you going?” “Home,” he replied, “I still believe it was an outhouse.” He never returned to school.

Read more Grandfather stories:

Hog Butchering

Steel Mill