HORSES – Imagine your car has a mind of its own. Imagine that your car is a prey animal, whose primary response to any surprise is to run away.
Consequently the Star admonished, “Tie your horses when you leave them on the street. The gentlest horse in existence may get scared at something.”
Apparently speeding was a problem, too, because in 1871 an ordinance was adopted forbidding anyone to ride or drive “a horse or other beast faster than a moderate trot” on public streets or alleys. The fine could be up to $20, and anyone could make the arrest. But at the same time council established the position of borough marshal, which makes enforcement of the new law a little easier to imagine.
But there was plenty of galloping of an accidental nature. The pages of the old Frenchtown Star and Hunterdon Independent are peppered with accounts of horses frightened by things as little as a fluttering piece of paper or as big as a freight train.
Here's one in the Star from April of 1880:
On Monday morning, Mr. Willard Niece, a son of Mr. Charles Niece, living on the road leading to Everittstown, came to this place with a two-horse team. While standing near the depot, the horses became uneasy, supposed to be frightened by a train of cars. He began to use the whip on them, which appeared to excite them all the more, and they started on a run up Bridge street.
Mr. Niece kept his seat and pulled with might and main. But could not keep them in check. As they turned the corner near the National Hotel, the wagon struck a post, which detached the body from the wheels, and he says he was thrown against the bridge while holding on to the lines.
He was badly injured about the breast, but we are glad to learn his case in not considered hopeless. He was taken charge of by Dr. Reiley. The horses broke down a fence and ran into a lot adjoining the Mr. R.L. Williams' residence (on Kingwood Avenue), and stopped near his barn. It was truly fortunate that they were not injured. Mr. Niece is now doing as well as could be expected. The doctor was Asher Reiley (1821-1891).
And another one from May of 1880 under the heading NARROW ESCAPE: “On Wednesday evening of last week, as Mr. A.P. Kachline was riding a horse along Bridge street, a man took off his hat to him in front of Bloom's saloon, which caused the horse to suddenly shy, throwing Mr. K. heavily to the ground. Fortunately he was not seriously injured, though severely bruised and jarred by the fall.”
In 1881 Leonard Scheible was hauling a load of wagon spokes when his horses were spooked by show bills posted on a fence. Happily the rigging held and the heaviness of the load soon slowed the horses to a walk.
For what it's worth, the offending advertisements were announcing the impending arrival of the J.H. Murray Circus, Menagerie, Museum & Aquarium.
In the spring of 1901, the Star eased into an account of the latest runaway:
Runaway horses always create great excitement and it becomes intense if there be a person in the vehicle to which such horse or horses are attached.
We had another experience of this kind last Thursday afternoon. As a horse driven by Hugh Laire, son of George W. Laire of Everittstown, was descending Academy hill, the breeching strap broke, frightening the animal and causing him to run rapidly down Race street, turning into Bridge street, and keeping on until the railroad, when Mr. Laire, who was down in the wagon holding on to the lines, ran him into the hotel yard at the Warford House.
Here the shafts struck a post. Mr. Laire jumped from the wagon in safety and the horse stopped. Strange to relate, there was no perceptible injury, and damage resulting from the incident was small. Mr. Laire may well congratulate himself on so narrow an escape.
On April 6, 1903, 20-year-old Emily Opdycke was in a rig on Race Street waiting for her father, horse dealer E.W. Opdycke, to drive her to her school. A stray dog spooked the horse, which galloped madly down Bridge Street and across the bridge into an open shed at the Delaware Valley Hotel, where he stopped. Emily stayed calm throughout the experience and then drove the horse home, causing the Star to observe, “The young lady understands a horse, and her illustrious father may be proud of her ability to hold the ribbons.”
The Dec. 6, 1911, Star reported three more runaways:
1. With two horses in harness, rattling milk cans spooked the new horse in the traces, with Herbert Scott holding the reins. The horses ran down Everittstown hill to Bridge Street, then up Harrison to the Third Street corner.
2. En route home to Frenchtown, “a horse driven by Raymond Britton got over the guard rail of the bridge at 'horse shoe bend' on the road to Barbertown and landed in the creek. One foreleg was broken and the animal was led out into a field and shot.”
3. A Mr. Epstein tied his horse up at the train station and was dining in a restaurant when a train startled the animal and, pulling a wagon, it ran up Bridge Street, and was stopped by Walter Stahler near Eddy's hardware store. The wagon sustained a smashed wheel. (No, I did not time-travel back to 1911. Proof? I know too much about horses to ever hitch such an unreliable creature to a wagon.)
These runaways often offered more excitement than injury, but they could be tragic.
Frenchtown physician Emanuel K. Deemy and his wife, Josephine, who had r ecently relocated to her hometown of Mechanicsburg, Pa., were thrown from their carriage on April 12, 1901. Mrs. Deemy immediately got to her feet and asked her husband if he was injured, then staggered and passed out. She remained unconscious for two days before dying, the Star reported.
The weather was cited as a contributing factor by the Star in a February 1915 report on four runaways within two days. “The Winter rest and then the cold snap of last week put the horses on their mettle, and some of them felt more than skittish.” In the worst of the incidents “the new team of I.L. Niece & Son were inspired by the bracing air to try their speed.” The early morning train was blocking their way so they ran into the flagman's shanty partly upsetting it and breaking one horse's leg. It was a bad break and a dose of poison from veterinarian Bair ended its misery.
A mishap that is hard to categorize, but impossible to overlook, took place July 1, 1891. The Star reported, “A team of horses belonging to Mayor Opdycke fell down in a heap on the street last Firday, caused by one prancing about, but were gotten u[ with but slight damage. It was a lucky fall.” One feels some sympathy for the nonprancing horse.
In June of 1915, barber Doc Slack tried to mount a saddle horse, it threw him “and stepped on the calf of his right leg, badly injuring it, and kicked him under a team of mules,” the Star reported.
Even when it wasn't their fault, horses added a chaotic element to vehicular mishaps. In June of 1901, “the wooden stringer bridge crossing the Little Nishisackawick near J.R. Van Syckel's gave way… while Jacob Johnson of Flemington and another gentleman were crossing it in a buggy with two horses hitched thereto. The beam on the south side gave way, dropping one side of the floor into the creek bed; the other side remained up. The men and team rolled sidewise down the floor, breaking harness and wagon and bruising the men severely. One horse rolled completely over the other. The bridge, built by the county about ten years ago, is nearly all wood. It is pronounced to have been shakey lately.” – The Star.
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“When in the course of time,” the Star predicted in 1888, “electricity, or something of that sort, shall supersede horses altogether as a motive power for drawing loads on the highways, damage to life and property will be of rare occurrence, and runaways will be a thing of the past.”
But first there would be an awkward overlap of a couple decades, as automobiles provided a fresh source of terror for horses. For examples:
Jeremiah Templeton a farmer from Tinicum Township, Pa., left his horse untied in front of the Chinese laundry on the morning of Saturday, May 9, 1903, when “along came a red automobile – No. 925 – loaded with people, and making noise enough to frighten almost anything that did not understand; the horse took fright and lit out (with wagon) at a terrific pace down Bridge street. He succeeded in steering clear of all the numerous wagons that lined the street; just missed the rear wheels of a big farm wagon. Efforts were made to stop him before he reached the bridge. E.W. Opdycke was coming across the bridge from Pennsylvania in a trotting wagon with one horse hitched and one in the lead. He knows a few things about horses, and quickly placed his wagon crosswise of the bridge to entirely block the way. The runaway horse took the hint and stopped… the horse and wagon was returned to Mr. Templeton in apparent good condition.” – the Star
On the morning of Saturday, May 20, 1911, “E.R. Case's team of horses that was hitched to the ice wagon became frightened on Third street by E.E. Cooley's swift automobile and ran down Milford road, thence down the Race street course. When they got down to Bridge street they were running at a swift gait, and with the many wagons tied in front of the stores and people on the walks, it looked as if somebody was to be injured and great damage done.
“Two men ran out in front of the horses and diverted their attention, with the result that they ran at the picture of beef in pasture at Reading's store corner, narrowly missing a horse and wagon that stood there, breaking off a tie post and halting at the cellar door long enough to be caught by men near by. No apparent damage resulted.” – the Star
Meanwhile, the Star advised the public not to litter because a breeze-blown scrap of paper could stampede a horse; and in cold weather, put a blanket on your horse and never shove an icy bit into its mouth.
The first automobile showed up in Frenchtown on July 2, 1900....
Excerpt from "Rick's Frenchtown Encyclopedia" (a work in progress)
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