Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, which reminds me that I forgot to get my wife anything! So this is going to be a really quick column, mostly from memory, because I have to race out before the stores close.

For Valentine’s Day, I like to talk about some of Lock Haven’s love stories, because I can promote the holiday as well as Wal-Mart can. Except I didn’t write this column in late December. One of my favorites, and the one I usually think of, is George and Helen Tidlow. This Lock Haven romance played out like a romantic comedy that inexplicably people pay to see.

George Tidlow was born in Flemington in 1888. He grew up doing construction work with his father, and worked in construction as an adult. He married his wife, Marguerite, who died in 1925 and left him with a little daughter, Lenore.

As I mentioned, George was in construction. He built the Grant Street Dam, and several buildings downtown, and he worked on a local bank. And that’s where he met Helen Schwoerer.

Helen was a recent college graduate, working in the bank. George was interested in her as soon as he saw her, to the chagrin of one of Helen’s co-workers. The woman at the next desk over was looking for a husband, which Helen wasn’t, and Helen suggested that she talk to George Tidlow. George remained interested in Helen, however, and Helen wasn’t aware of that.

At one point, George offered to take the bank staff out to a baseball game. This was a way to get to know Helen a bit better. All of the office women were excited, except for Helen, who said she had plans that night. George said he had to take everyone out, and all of the other women begged Helen until she agreed.

It was at that baseball game that Helen met Lenore, George’s daughter. She liked the little girl, and immediately cared about her. And she decided to give George a chance.

George and Helen Tidlow got married on July 3, 1926. Helen moved in with George, at his home on the hill along Bellefonte Avenue, where Great Island Cemetery had stood only a few years before. They had a happy life.
There was only one problem: Helen was a bad cook.

This was taken much more seriously back in the 1920s than it is today.

Helen used to tell people that she wasn’t even able to boil an egg. But her new husband didn’t know that, and she didn’t want him to. So, when she made a roast and accidentally burned the hell out of it, damaging the pan, she ran down the street and purchased a new roast pan to cover it up.

The old, burned pan she buried in the backyard. This happened several times; Helen would attempt a roast, burn it beyond recognition, and bury the evidence. Then she’d run out and buy a new one. George never thought to question why their roast pans always looked so sparkling.

Many years after their marriage, George asked Helen if she’d like some gardening done. Helen loved the idea, and George went out to work. A little while later, he came back with an unearthed pan, and commented, ”I knew this was a cemetery once, but I didn’t know it was also a junkyard.”

Helen confessed, and warned him that there were probably a few more of those coming. They had a laugh over it.

George predeceased Helen, who never remarried for the rest of her life. The two of them are buried together in Highland Cemetery, one of Lock Haven’s greatest love stories. Now I have to run….Maybe my wife would like a new roast pan.