Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

Bad drivers annoy the hell out of me. I don’t even drive, and I get furious at them. I’m not just taking about slightly careless people here, I mean really, really bad drivers. I live on a one-way street, and it’s mindblowing the number of people who don’t understand the concept of “One way.” I’ve stood in my yard and shouted at people like a cranky old man—As I said, I don’t even drive, and I understand signs that say “only go this direction.” A few months back, I blew up at someone going the wrong way, and my son saw it. It’s given him something of a complex; now he stands in the yard and shouts at people along with me. “That guy is a maniac!” he says.

Anyway, it’s probably a good thing I wasn’t standing along Main Street about a hundred and thirty-five years ago. There was this incident. Apparently reckless driving isn’t exactly a new invention.

It was May 10, 1886. The lumbering in Lock Haven was at a peak, producing millions of boards every year. The possibility of electric lights in Lock Haven had just recently begun to be discussed, and the Edison Incandescent Light Company was sitting down with the local Steam Heating Company to work out some of the details.

Meanwhile, a large pavilion was built at the corner of Vesper and Water Streets, about where the church stands now. This was for the purpose of bringing people out to see plays, performed there—A rendition of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was being performed, involving about forty actors. James Jefferis was the mayor back then, and was evidently attempting to provide more outdoor entertainment for the community.

This was more popular than expected, and drew crowds, bringing people into the downtown area. It turned out to be a big deal, and people came out to eat and shop, as well as watch the performance.
It was during one of these evenings that the crazy drivers arrived.

When I say “drivers,” by the way, I mean a horse and buggy. It was operated by two young men from Jersey Shore—Someone must have recognized them, but no names were mentioned in the newspaper article about the incident the next day.

It read,”Last evening between 7 and 8 o’clock, two young men from Jersey Shore drove down Main Street at a fearful rate with a horse and buggy. The street crossings were filled with people, yet strange to say no one was hurt.”

The “fearful rate” of speed was probably somewhere around forty miles per hour. A horse tends to top out at fifty-five—I looked it up. I can’t imagine that the horse was running at top speed while hauling a buggy with two passengers. The locals were, apparently, able to get out of the way fast enough to avoid being injured, which is a bit of dubious good news.

The young men, laughing, got through town, left the city limits, and presumably headed back to Jersey Shore. The whole thing happened so quickly that nobody was able to stop them or make any arrests, and since they were headed home, the police seemed to decide to let them go and be Jersey Shore’s problem. Mayor Jefferis, who was the son of a retired pirate, may have had a certain sympathy toward young people who were slightly outside the law.

“The men drove so rapidly and were out of town so quickly that no arrests were made for violation of the ordinance,” reported the newspaper the day after.

It all took place within a few minutes, and I have managed to stretch that into an entire column, which would make me either very talented or seriously desperate for ideas. At any rate, it was over quickly, and the young guys went back to Jersey Shore. Where they probably grew up to become responsible members of society, getting annoyed over crazy young people driving too fast on a one-way street.