It was an ordinary day. Reading a chapter in a small hardbound orange book that I had given to my father when he turned 75 on February. 6, 1995. The book is titled "Orange Street" and was written and signed in 1954 by local author Marion Wallace Reninger. The book is only 82 pages long, but carries enough history of the street known as Orange Street in the town of Lancaster, Pennsylvania that you need to read it several times over before you can digest all that took place from the Revolutionary War to the mid-1990s. The foreword ends with a small 9-line verse that reads:
It would indeed be false to say; That the characters in the book; bear no resemblance; to anyone living or dead. The contrary is true; in these tales; of an old street. Some characters are historical; Most were or are real people; A few are fictitious or traditional.
The first chapter of the book is titled "Panorama." It begins with...Orange Street slopes gradually uphill eastward from Prince Street to Shippen Street. Old trees arch gracefully over this busy modern thoroughfare from Duke to Shippen, as they did a hundred years and more ago. There is an air of gentility and dignity in the old buildings. When I was a child on Orange Street, I remember being awakened before dawn by the ring of horses' hoofs on the cobblestone. These horses were drawing market wagons laden with country produce to the curb market. Stalls were set up, the wagons backed to the curb beside them, from below Duke Street, around the corner, and down to the Court House pavements. This became a busy scene of buying and selling even before daylight. Lancaster citizens, invariably carrying baskets, jostled each other on the narrow sidewalk. Lighted by the farmer's lanterns, the squeaking chickens were inspected, the dressed fowls duly pinched for tenderness, the cider tasted and apple butter sampled.
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| The cover of ORANGE STREET |
As daylight arrived the market continued in full swing. When their goods were disposed of, the plain people; Mennonites, Amish and Dunkards-brought their horses from the nearby livery stables at the "Leopard" or "Swan" Hotels, hitched them to the wagons, and returned to their farms in time for a day's work in the field or barns. There were other sales made on Orange Street. I recall a colored "Crab Man" who came up Orange Street every Friday noon. His high piercing cry "Crabs for Sale" - "Hot Deviled Crabs For Sale" brought housekeepers to their front doors. Hot from the oven these dainties were wrapped carefully in clean linen and packed in chip baskets. In our house on Orange Street near Shippen, there were many rings of the door bell. Scissor grinders appeared periodically. Members of a German band group, after two or three selections, would ask for contributions. A special treat was the visit of the hurdy-gurdy man, complete with his monkey, tipping is cap spasmodically in thanks for pennies from the audience. In the early spring, farmers' wives went from door to door selling fresh dandelion greens, acclaimed widely as a spring tonic. Fall was the season when the country gardens contributed wagon loads of gorgeous, colorful bouquets, along the Orange Street scene. Handsome and spirited horses, harnessed to carriages called traps, surreys or Germantowns, trotted lightly out East Orange Street, after the hard pull upgrade from Lime to Shippen Streets. At afternoon calling hours, ladies in vicrotias, holding small parasols over their silk or satin costumes, were occasionally to be gazed at and admired. On Sunday morning, just before church time, there was a universal outpouring from the houses along Orange St. The procession, on its way to the various churches, was worth seeing. Everyone, in Sunday best walked sedately and were conscious of Orange Street propriety. On Saturday evening at five o'clock, all the church bells sounded sweet and clear on Orange Street. This was an old custom reminding people to prepare for the Sabbath. All the hours were struck loudly by the clock on St. Anthony's Catholic Church, both day and night. It was a reassuring sound, when one was anxious to get to school on time, or meet some friends for a picnic on the Reservoir grounds. When bicycles became popular, most of the Orange Street families built small "sheds" in the rear yards to house their "wheels." Later autos began to appear, one by one, among the vehicles on Orange Street. We stopped in our tracks to note the auto riders in linen dusters and the women's flowing veils. During the early 1900's on Saturday evening about eight o'clock on Saturday evening about eight o'clock at the corner of Orange and Shippen Streets, twenty or more neighborhood children would gather for the weekly trek of walking down to Duke Street for ice cream at Miss Lizzie's confectionery parlor. They often sang as they marched and took over all the tables of that little place while slowly savoring the delightful flavors of creams and ices--a very special treat in those times. Customs have changed. The traffic of the National Lincoln Highway now passes along Orange Street. It is interesting today to recall some of the people who have made their way along this historic pathway of Lancaster. Other chapters in the book are titled Peggy Shippen, Properties, Processions, Presidential Romance, People, Prisoner and Counterfeiter, and Philanthropists. I have read the book several times and learn something different every time I read it. Inside the front cover is pasted a piece of paper that reads...The R. Theodore Bixlers' Collection of Lancaster Authors. I have been thinking of offering the book to another person, but the book seems to mean too much to me to give it up. Thank you Mrs. Marion Wallace Reninger for your great job of covering "Orange Street" in such great detail. I have walked it's sidewalks many times in my lifetime and still find special memories each and every time I lay my foot to it's sidewalk. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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