Lou’s View – July 9, 2015
Window View
by Lou Bernard
I can see a lot of history from our windows.
I find myself staring out the window a lot on a slow day, especially if it’s also a nice day. My desk is on the first floor of the Ross Library, which takes up most of the two-hundred block of Main Street. I mean, if my boss is reading, of course I don’t have slow days—Here I am, busily working on an article. But sometimes I look out the window, and I can see tons of history out there. Can history be measured by the ton? Never mind. Window.
Right behind me, as I sit at my desk, is the John Brown House. 220 West Main Street. If anyone ever makes a movie about me, this will be the background as I sit in my office. This place was built in 1875 by businessman Gravestine Kintzing, and was the home of funeral director John Everett Brown. Brown died there on March 20, 1938, when his doorbell rang late at night. On his way down the spiral stairs to answer it, he slipped and fell over the railing, cracking his skull on the floor below.
Wow. This got a lot less cheerful in a big hurry, didn’t it? Let’s move on. If I turn and look to the right, I can see the Abraham Lipez House. Lipez was a local judge. He was a great man, and I’m not just saying that because his descendant is my editor. He came from Russia with his family when he was about two years old, and grew up to be an attorney. At one point in 1934 he was the defense attorney for one of the most high-profile cases the county ever had, and later in life, he became a judge. His biography is at the library if you’re interested, in the Pennsylvania Room—Which I can also see from my desk.
On the other side, if I roll my chair and lean waaaaay back, to the point of almost injuring myself, I can see the home of William Hitchens on Church Street. Hitchens was a graduate of Lock Haven High School—Which I can see out the library windows if I walk over to the lobby—in 1928, and went on to join the Navy during World War II. He distinguished himself, earning the rank of Commander. In 1953, when a terrible earthquake hit Greece, Hitchens was serving on the USS Salem, and in the forefront of the rescue efforts. His mother Grace sat in her home, right outside my window, and listened to the radio, calling her friends in town with all the news.
If I have time to get up and stroll around a bit—Which, if I’m writing this article, I do—I can see some others. Out a second-story window looking west, I can see where T.C. Hipple lived. I mean, these days it looks a lot like a library parking lot, but it was once the Hipple House. I can still see the front walk. Hipple was in the Civil War, and fought at Gettysburg. He is said to have been in the unit that fired the first shot at Gettysburg. There is some doubt to this, but if you think I’m going to split hairs over it, you’d better think again.
Looking out the back window is the George Strayer House on the corner of Church and Third. Strayer was a local merchant who specialized in pottery. He built the house in 1875 as part of an effort to expand the city of Lock Haven. In one account, it’s said that there are trap doors in some of the closets, and that a local professor fell through one unexpectedly.
Across the street, from the third floor window in the back of the building where nobody really goes very much, I can see the Wilson Kistler House. Kistler was a businessman in Lock Haven, dealing in leather. He had a tannery that took up a pretty good amount of the block, back in the old days, and lived in the elaborate building on the southwest corner of Church and Third. He was also the first president of the library’s board of directors when we opened in 1910, so I’m sure if he hadn’t died in 1914, he’d have wanted me to quit walking around staring out the windows and go do some actual work.
