Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

Before World War I, there were armories all over Lock Haven. The military had buildings in several different locations, and had to run all over town to gather the equipment they needed, depending on what unit they were with. After the war, Colonel Edward Troutman Miller decided that this system was ridiculous, and donated much of his land to build the National Guard Armory in Dunnstown, unifying the location.

This led to some interesting and exciting incidents throughout Lock Haven, including the time one of them burned down.

Today, there’s a parking lot at the corner of Main and Third Streets. But in 1914, an armory stood there. (Again, one of many.) On September 20, 1914, at about three-thirty in the morning, the whole thing went up in what was described as a “mass of flame.”

“When the fire was first discovered the interior of the large room was ablaze and before the alarm could be given the flames were leaping through the windows and dry shingle roof, so that before a stream was turned on the entire building was practically destroyed,” reported the Clinton County Times, which was always up for an exciting story on the front page.

Hand-In-Hand Hose Company was called, but mainly to mitigate collateral damage. The armory was almost immediately a loss. Attorney and Civil War veteran T.C. Hipple, who lived across the street, had some damage to his house and blistering of his barn paint, which the fire personnel got under control. With the wind coming from the northwest, everything southeast of the armory was at risk of the spreading fire.

A barn owned by Jesse Ricker, across the alley, burst into flames three times. It was extinguished each time by Ricker and local attorney Sideny Furst, who lived across the street.

Across the alley, the garage of Reese Kintzing caught fire. As the firemen were putting it out, the chimney collapsed, burying several men under the rubble. Under the direction of Foreman Harry Oberheim, they began digging the survivors out, finding A.A. Oberheim, Jon Keller, and Fred Marshall, who had been buried under the hot brick.

Marshall was trapped by the legs, unable to free himself. The firemen lifted up the debris and worked him loose. Keller was badly injured, and both men were sent to the hospital, which at the time was on Susquehanna Avenue.

“Both Oberheim and Keller were taken to the hospital in an automobile,” the Times reported,”And after some difficulty they were restored to consciousness by the nurses, and were afterwards treated by Drs. Watson and Lubrecht. Mr. Marshall sustained several cuts and bruises, but was able to walk home.”

Keller was a different case. He had a bad concussion due to a brick cutting his head open, and his chest had been crushed by the falling debris. He was kept in the hospital, and was improving by the time the newspaper went to press, five days later.

During the fire, the ammunition kept exploding. Fifteen thousand bullets were kept in the armory, and they could be heard going off as the firemen fought the blaze. The fire department was largely undisturbed by this, considering it not dangerous, because either it wasn’t bad by comparison to collapsing chimneys, or they didn’t have much respect for the aim.

The fire racked up thirty thousand dollars in damages. A case of revolvers was saved because some blankets, stored above it, got soaked and fell on the box, thus saving the guns inside. The general consensus to the community was,”Well, it was an old building anyway,” and the ruins were torn down. I mean, like I said, there were other armories.