Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

About thirteen years ago, Lock Haven University issued a statement saying that they had been “continuously serving the students since 1870.” I remember this clearly; at the time, I felt it was misleading. But this is why we get our local history from historians, as opposed to the marketing departments of universities.

Back in 1870, the college wasn’t “continuously serving” anything, including lunch. That’s when it was chartered, but there was no way of actually teaching—They had no students, no buildings, and no faculty. Just a piece of paper. The first stone was laid for the building in 1883.Then in 1888, it was destroyed by fire, and they had to start everything all over again.

We’re at the 135th anniversary of that date. It was December 8, 1888, and at the time, the college was called “Central State Normal School.” And it burned to the ground.

When it was first built, the college was on top of a hill. I was to say it’s where North Hall now stands, but I’m not sure North Hall is still around, either. At any rate, on the afternoon of December 8, the fire broke out, and there was never really a cause found for it.

It wasn’t considered a huge mystery, as in those days, you were dependent on fire if you wanted heat or light, so buildings were burning down routinely back then. The Clinton Democrat speculated on both magic and demons before calming down and reporting the full story, and it was suggested that a janitor had made a mistake with the furnace in the basement. This was never proven, and a photo of the time suggested that the fire started on the upper floors, which was also a possibility.

The Democrat ran an article headlined “The Fire Demon” on December 10, and opened with “What shall we do now?” which was a valid question. Over a hundred people showed up to watch the building burn. The fire department came out, but they couldn’t get their vehicles up the hill, and the water couldn’t be propelled more than about twelve feet, which fell ninety feet short of what was required. All they could do was control the burning and rescue people.

Student William Phillips slightly injured himself while running from the chapel, and counted himself lucky. Another student, John Zindel, had to be rescued from the roof after finding himself trapped up there fleeing the fire. The firemen got him down with ladders.

No lives were lost, though the property damage was considerable. Over two hundred students were enrolled, and many of them wound up with nothing but the clothing they happened to be wearing when the fire broke out and they ran from the place. One girl from a wealthy family named Noyes lost a hundred and fifty dollars, a gold watch, and her jewelry, according to the newspaper article.

Peter Meitzler was a downtown business owner, proprietor of the Montour House, a hotel that stood on the corner of Jay and Water Streets. Meitzler was eccentric, having fought both sides of the Civil War, once hacking up a trolley with an axe because he’d lost money on it, and once shooting himself in the chest as a cure for rheumatism. However, he was also a generous and kind guy, and he offered up his hotel as a substitute college for the immediate crisis. The students stayed in his hotel until they could find other arrangements.

Once things calmed down, the school began to rebuild. Having learned a harsh lesson about the hill, they started building on the land down below, where a fire would be easier to deal with. Progress was promptly interrupted by the flood of 1889, though, and there’s probably a lesson in that, too.