Having won his wine, and shown what he could do in the way of erecting theatres, Ben went to Millerstown, and there proceeded to build a second opera house. This was put up on a cheaper scale than the one in Petrolia. Hogan again demonstrated how a man may accomplish without a dollar’s capital.
He went to a lumber firm in the town and laid before them his project. The firm agreed to build the opera house for two thousand dollars—which was fully twice as much as it was worth. Ben’s proposition was to pay on time, and to give the firm a percentage on the profits accruing from the house. The chairs, scenery, etc., were supplied from the Petrolia house, the latter having enough and to spare. Wildman’s Dramatic Company opened the Millerstown Opera House, playing East Lynne, and filling out a very successful engagement of two weeks.
In this time, Ben cleared two thousand eight hundred dollars; but after the first cream had been taken off, the milk henceforth was very thin indeed. Millerstown was not big enough to make the management of a theatre remunerative.
There was at that time no church in the town, and so one of the ministers went to Ben and solicited the use of the Opera House for Fridays and Sundays. This request was promptly granted, Ben declaring that he would cheerfully give the use of the house to any church or charitable institution. The building was accordingly occupied every Sunday for religious meetings, and this movement may be said to have been the foundation of a number of churches in the town.
In referring to Ben, the minister took occasion, at one of the meetings, to say that there was many a black sheep whose soul was really whiter than many of those who counted themselves within the fold. A common sense, if not a theological truth.
The lumber firm, who had sought to play a sharp game on Ben, received in all about one hundred and fifty dollars, and after that they came in possession of the Opera House. Hogan was perfectly willing to surrender it, having squeezed the lemon dry during the first two weeks.
While these enterprises were engaging his attention, Ben divided his time between Millerstown and Petrolia, Kitty still remaining at the latter place. In a row which occurred at the Petrolia House, in which the participants were a couple of women and a man, one of the women accidentally (?) shot Ben, but with only slight injuries. As soon as he had recovered he met the man, Charley Moore by name, and a somewhat lively dispute followed. Moore had a friend with him who discharged his revolver at Ben, but failed to score a bull’s eye, the ball striking a dry-goods box instead of our hero’s heart. With no other weapons than his fists, Ben disposed of both men, knocking one down with his right hand and the other with his left. The fellow who discharged the shot was arrested and sent to jail, but got out again in a week or so.
The dull times had now begun to tell seriously upon the oil region. Oil dropped to forty cents, and with it money ceased to drop. There was very little life left in the neighborhood, and that may have accounted for the tax which was levied upon the keepers of all sporting houses. The mistress was called upon to contribute twelve dollars to the treasury of the town, while each of the girls was assessed seven dollars. Of course any such tax as this was really illegal, as the houses were not licensed; still, to avoid interference, the money was paid.
Ben, to whom this shot was particularly directed, was considerably incensed, and determined to expose the whole thing. He was already paying a license of three dollars a night for his Opera House, and he did not care to increase his donations to the town officials. An opportunity for speaking out his mind presented itself on the occasion of a performance given in the Opera House by Sanford’s minstrels. After the show had ended, Hogan stepped upon the stage and said:
“I desire to detain you only a moment, ladies and gentlemen. As you are all well aware, I built this Opera House for the sake of furnishing the public with amusement. There was nobody else who had the capital or the energy to do this work. Now you all know that there are from forty to seventy sporting women in Petrolia. They have been here long enough for you to know their character, and there is no need of discussing the fact that they are here. You know, moreover, what my business is, and I have only to say if you think the women have injured the town, let them be driven out. But I don’t intend to submit to this exorbitant license business any longer. I have spoken to Mr. Dimmick, the burgess, and he tells me it is not his fault—that the Councilmen are responsible. Now if the Council spent the money for public improvements, if it was used for sidewalks and pavements, and things of that sort, I would willingly pay double the amount they demand of me; but we have no sidewalks nor pavements, and the inevitable conclusion is that the money finds its way into official pockets. I don’t propose to contribute any more for that purpose.”