Wednesday, August 26, 2026

Pennsylvania State Police, Hershey, Dauphin County

I don't have a date yet for the America250PA podcast episode for which I was interviewed a few weeks ago, but I have other exciting news. I've been invited back to record two more episodes! The one which will be airing in September is about the blog itself, but for these other two episodes, I'll actually be sharing the stories behind some of the markers. They're topics I've already covered here in the blog, but I'll be going into more detail and answering questions and, hopefully, encouraging even more people to get out and look for the history that's all around us. I'll share dates when I have some.

Meanwhile, this week we're taking a look at the history of the Pennsylvania State Police. I had positive experiences with two of our "state troopers," as we call them, when I was growing up. One was my great-uncle Bob, the husband of my grandmother's oldest sister, who was a sergeant in the PSP; he had retired by the time I was born. His funeral included a state trooper honor guard by his coffin, a state police escort to the cemetery, and a 21-gun salute. The other was a man known throughout the Lehigh Valley as Trooper Rossi, and he visited all the elementary schools every year to talk about things like safety. It was always a fun day when Trooper Rossi came to school. He had that grandfatherly sort of presence that made every child feel like he was their personal friend. So as I visit the topic this week, I'm remembering both of those gentlemen.

The marker stands at 541 Cocoa Avenue in Hershey.
I first mentioned the PSP when I wrote about the 1902 anthracite coal strike. In that post, we learned that the Pennsylvania General Assembly had assembled a private police force during the 19th century. The state government would, in return for a payment of one dollar, provide the owners of coal and steel companies with commissions which allowed the owners to confer police authority on... well, whomever they pleased, really. The Coal and Iron Police, as they were called, were among those who responded to the 1902 strike and the two strikes which had happened previously. They were also involved in some of the violence surrounding those strikes. They didn't enforce the law so much as they enforced the will of their employers, and it wasn't unusual for the company owners to hire less-than-reputable sorts, who often had their own agendas.

Teddy Roosevelt, who was President at the time, recommended the disbanding of the C&IP once the 1902 strike was over. That didn't happen. The C&IP continued to carry out the orders of the men who signed their paychecks, and meanwhile, local law officials - chiefly constables and sheriffs - were either unable or unwilling to intervene in any disputes where the C&IP could be said to have jurisdiction. For this reason, it became clear that, to quote from the PSP's official website, "peace and order should be maintained by regularly appointed and responsible officers employed by the public."

This became Pennsylvania Senate Bill 27B, and it was enacted into law on May 2, 1905, three years to the month after the Great Anthracite Coal Strike. Samuel Pennypacker, our governor, signed the bill which created the first public uniformed police organization in the United States. (As is so often the case, Pennsylvania leads the way once again.)

Pennsylvania measures roughly 45,000 square miles, and every inch of it was expected to be patrolled by 228 men. They had to keep the numbers small, at first, because there was a fear that the PSP might be just like the C&IP, and function more or less like a private army. Keeping enlistment relatively low seems to have eased that fear at least somewhat. The PSP was divided into four troops, which I guess is why we call the officers "troopers." Troop A operated out of Greensburg, the county seat of Westmoreland County; Troop B started in Wilkes-Barre and was later moved to Wyoming County; Troop C was in Reading, the county seat of Berks County; and Troop D was in Punxsutawney, in Jefferson County. (Yes, the place where the groundhog lives. Yes, he was already around at that point.) Within the first two years, the troopers proved that they were no one's private army; they were there to protect the citizens. To quote again from their website:

The State Police soon proved its worth by controlling mob violence, patrolling farm sections, protecting wildlife, and tracking down criminals.

Initially, only unmarried men were allowed to apply to be state troopers. If an active duty trooper wanted to get married, he had to get permission from his superior officer. Col. John C. Groome, who was the first superintendent appointed by Gov. Pennypacker, established this rule and it remained in place until 1963, at which time it was decided that married men could also be troopers. He's the guy pictured here (apologies for the reflection). He's also the one who set up two-year enlistment periods beginning in 1911, which continued until 1967; ever since then, troopers may remain on the force until retirement.

In 1919 the need for more PSP units led to the force nearly doubling in size, with a maximum of 415 troopers, and the creation of Troop E based out of Lancaster. In 1924, the first cadet training academy was built in Hershey, at the site where the historical marker stands, and remained in use until the current academy was constructed in 1960. By 1965, the force had expanded to include Troops F, G, and H.

Not only was the PSP the first of its kind in the country, but they continued to lead in other ways. In 1954 they accepted the first Black cadet at the academy, becoming the second state in the union to racially integrate its state police department. Illinois beat them to the punch on that; they were, however, the first state police force to have a Black commissioner, with the appointment of Ronald Sharpe in 1987. In 1972, they became the first state police department to admit female officers.

I collected this marker during last year's Dauphin County adventure with my friend AmyBeth, who did all the driving and was incredibly helpful. I forget exactly what possessed us to meander up a winding road to the top of a hill, but when we reached the summit we found ourselves at one of the most out-of-the-way museums you can imagine. It was the Pennsylvania State Police Historical, Educational and Memorial Center, or PSP-HEMC for short. The good people there are on a mission to educate the public about the history of the PSP, collecting and preserving artifacts related to that history, and also maintaining a memorial to all past and present state officers, especially those who gave their lives in the line of duty. Pictured here is part of the Remembrance Wall where the names of the fallen are enshrined, and construction is (as of this writing) currently being done on a memorial garden which will further honor our state troopers. 

Anyone interested in learning more about the PSP will definitely want to visit the PSP-HEMC. However, while the construction is happening (which is expected to go on for some time), visitors must use the back hill access point to get there. Self-guided tours are available Monday through Friday, from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.; guided tours are also available, but must be arranged at least two weeks in advance. Full hours, admission prices, how to get to the back hill access, and other details can be found at the website linked below. If an in-person visit isn't feasible for you, you can always peruse the offerings of their online store, including the documentary Our Nation's First State Constabulary, by clicking here




Sources and Further Reading:






Except where indicated, all writing and photography on this blog is the intellectual property of Laura Klotz. This blog is written with permission of the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission. I am not employed by the PHMC. All rights reserved.


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