The President's Letter - October 2025

By: Ryan Bowman, HAHS President

October 1, 2025

The original outhouses at the Taylor's One Room Schoolhouse can be seen in this photograph, circa 1920. Photograph procured from HAHS Archives.

From the president:

I think it is safe to say that history lovers see the world a bit differently than most do. My years of observation and interaction with those such as myself have proven time and time again that those who appreciate the past and our roots tend to see things positively or with what may even be considered a sense of wonder. Some may call it naivety. Still others - insanity.

Strange as it may seem now, as a young child I had an absolute fascination with outhouses. Being born in 1976 and growing up in the '80s, almost everywhere I went at the time had indoor plumbing and running water, their outdoor necessaries being torn down (happily I suppose) many years before.

My great aunt, Kathryn Altland though, who lived across the street from us in the heart of the village of Matamoras, still had an original working outhouse on her property. I am yet able to picture the simple structure that sat not far from her leaning concord grape arbor where we would spend sultry summer afternoons enjoying her company in the cool shade of the vines and backyard trees. When nature called, we had the option of making the short walk to the house to utilize her modern, fully working plumbing or to step into, what to me, was a time machine.

Of course, the latter choice and my insistence on always choosing it were both frowned upon by my older sisters. As a boy, it was hard to understand why girls were weird about things like that. You know - germs and stinky stuff. At times that outhouse even doubled as a playground for my adventurous young mind. I recall a bright red plastic cowboy or two that met his demise down the deep abyss of that black hole, shot violently from its edge, the victim of a slow draw and an outlaw's steely grit staring him down from the other side.

Another outhouse story and bit of a family legend shared with me years ago was about my grandfather Ted Keiter. To make some extra cash as a young man living in Berrysburg, he would help his older neighbors by taking shovel and wheelbarrow in hand to assist with "emptying" their privy. Talk about getting to know your community! For obvious reasons, no record exists of where said contents may have been disposed of. Nobody wanted to know. Now or then.

As a grown adult leader, over the years, various Boy Scout camps would provide a growing collection of outhouse experiences in my life, though none quite as memorable as those at Camp Muckleratz. Halifax Troop 1165 has held their annual winter camp in February at the legendary camp for decades. The multi-seat nit there was your only option when you needed to "file" what the Scouts playfully call "the important papers." To this day, a chill still goes through my bones when I think of trips to the toilet there at 6:00 the morning.

l have never understood why in the dead of winter, the inside of an outhouse is at least 10 degrees colder than the ambient temperature outside. And the surface temperature of a toilet, seat?...Who knew they could go to subzero? Scientists should study this phenomenon and find a solution for the betterment of all mankind. Or at least for Scout leaders.

With all of this outhouse knowledge so prevalent in my family and personal history, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the specter of that solid, fundamental human need-a private place to take care of business, has once again found its way into my life and in turn, the life of the Society.

Students of Taylor's School sit atop one of the original outhouses at the Taylor's One Room Schoolhouse, circa 1920. Photograph procured from HAHS Archives.

As we completed the Taylor's Schoolhouse Museum back in 2019, there were discussions about whether or not it was necessary or at all probable to have restroom facilities on the property. With no running water and no septic services there, it was decided that it was never to be.

Up until its closure as a schoolhouse in 1959, and through its use by the Word of Life Chapel, the property had two, two- room outhouses. The style was originally designed for the school with one structure for boys and the other for girls. A unused, they were torn down and the pits filled in. some unknown point in history after the property became In the years since, for several occasions, we have rented port o-johns. They are a convenient, but not inexpensive undertaking, running approximately $250 for a weekend event.

At other times, when such funding wasn't available, guests and volunteers have been forced to drive home or to businesses in town to relieve themselves. All in all, a frequent drain on meager resources and an inconvenience to say the least. After much discussion with friends, volunteers and visitors to the museum, we have decided that the time has come to find a solution to this situation.

Traditional outhouses are not only smelly, and a haven for varmints and pests, but they have also been illegal in Pennsylvania since the 1970's. Our goal on the museum grounds is to construct a building there that will closely mimic the original structures that were present. Not only will this stay in keeping with the historical value of the property, but the double-wide structure will allow us to house a composting toilet on one side and provide much needed storage for tools and other items for the grounds.

Many options of this technology that use no water and no electricity are available to us. Our plans are still in their infancy, but at present we have decided to kick off a capital campaign in an effort to raise funds towards the endeavor, A goal of $5,000 has been set and we are asking members, the public, and local businesses to assist us if at all possible. We will bring more information to you as the plan unfolds and hope you can help us bring this dream to reality. Because as we all know...When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go!