Volume 7, Number 10 - Winter 1982
Otto Kohler
by Viola Hartman
One of the most interesting and colorful couples of Hollister, Missouri was Otto and Mattie Kohler. Little was known of their background before they came to town in the early teens of this century except that she had been one of the original Floradora Girls and he had been with Barnum & Bailey’s Circus. Together they developed a pyramid act in which gold paint was sprayed over their bodies and was said to be the first of its kind in vaudeville.
But Hollister, situated in the center of the Midwest’s rigid code of dress and behavior was a long way from the bright lights and carefree conduct of Broadway. The Kohler’s lifestyle caused considerable comment in all they did.
She was small and petite with red hair and some musical talent. She was said to not own a housedress and wore her stage clothes, not only at home, but into town, as well. Furthermore, when she tripped down the hill from the southwest side of the elegant new depot, whistling as she went, it was enough to draw the undivided attention of the visiting tourists, and business people in town especially the female gender.
However, for all they might look, the size and temper of Otto Kohler insured his wife of the utmost respect from the men. Few women got close enough to be confidants. He weighed over three hundred pounds, was a physical culture faddist and was fond of showing off his strength and playing practical jokes. He rarely wore a shirt except when he donned his showman’s outfit for some publicity stunt and believed that it was healthier to live without the pampering warmth of a stove. Like his wife, he played a trumpet and in the late evenings they played duets in their front yard and the music drifted in melodic waves down over the town until it was time for taps. Unfortunately, Mattie broke her false teeth, ending the evening serenades.
They bought a small plot of ground and developed a camp with a row of sparsely furnished cottages as many people of that era did. The rent was one dollar per night and the Professor, as he insisted on being called, advertised meals at the very nominal cost of twenty-five cents each, adding that if the tourists didn’t eat with him they both lost. He became the town’s publicity director and promoted it in strange and often unconventional ways. He met the incoming trains, talked to the people arriving, dispensing advice, directions and a general sales talk on the blessings of his favorite spot. In his estimation there was no place like Hollister and he expended most of his time and his prodigious energy in promoting the place.
When the Mo-Pac Railroad sponsored the grape carnivals each fall in the town, it was Otto Kohler who took on the job of advertising the event throughout the county. He hired a rig--two horses hitched to a fringed surry and proceeded to decorate the outfit in his own inimitable way. The horses’ harness was beribboned with red bows and brass bells and the conveyance likewise. Then he would dress up in his red and gold circus barker’s uniform with the high black shako and off he would ride from one end of the county to the other, blowing his trumpet to attract attention. When he would get a crowd assembled, he went into his act, telling of the coming event in the most glowing terms. Then he would ride on and continue the process until everyone within the borders of the county was aware of what was to happen in Hollister. Nor did his sales pitch end there. During the winter months he and Mattie disappeared from the local scene, often traveling across the country. But he never forgot the town or his role in it and continued to extol its virtues. He was The First and Only Publicity Director. His business cards and the homemade attache case with which he met all trains, said so.
He donated ground to the school system on which to build the town’s schools and his will stipulated a certain amount to be given to the town. But whether or not there was anything in his bank account to cover this last bequest is problematic. He outlived his wife by several years and died peacefully in bed. It was only after he was gone that his friends and neighbors learned that Mattie was from Boston. His birthplace was never disclosed but his last will and testament noted and disinherited two children born to a former marriage. So far as is known, they never came look-
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ing for him.
A casket was made for him for he was a very large man. The bills attached to the funeral account Ledger, as was the custom of the local mortuary, listed each small item. This included black cloth lining, brass hinges and handles and even the number and cost of the small nails and screws used. The interment at Gobbler’s Knob, was poorly attended and the town, for whom he had worked so diligently and so unselfishly for so many decades, didn’t bother to send flowers.
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