What's good for the goose, is not good for Schuylkill Haven

This is based on my article printed by the Pottsville Republican which was read by practically no one, and for good reason, as it was in the 9/11/2001 edition.

Has Schuylkill Haven lost its mind? Apparently, “the little borough that could” has decided to breach the Migratory Bird Treaty Act and declare war on the Canadian geese that have peacefully immigrated to the community under the pretext that this so-called "foreign menace" has made the community foul by its large amount of bird droppings. I think this is a lot of crap and I am sure that the Canadian envoy to Schuylkill Haven will be recalled once the first local Elmer Fudd fires the first shot at a goose waddling about. This will bring the relations between Schuylkill Haven and Canada to an all time low. Canada Dry ginger ale is already being horded in town in anticipation of a retaliatory embargo. I could not even one can for sale at Brok-Sel’s or Boyers IGA. How am I expected to make highballs this weekend?

Already the long simmering war of nerves has escalated with the Borough Council dropping leaflets into the Columbia Heights section of town that borders Stoyer’s Dam. The Dam is now under the control of the rebel geese and the leaflets demand that the geese surrender peacefully. The leaflets contain nothing more than propaganda and lies; promising that all birds that surrender will be interned and treated humanely under the Geneva Convention until repatriated to Canada. I say, all lies! Reliable sources have told me that the Borough is making plans to transform the old Walk-In Shoe factory into a pillow factory featuring…you guessed it…Canadian goose down! I get goose bumps just thinking about it.

The geese are not bird brains and a resistance movement is under (web) foot. They have renamed the territory they control “Le Parc de Bubec” where a large underground gaggle is planning to fight to the finish under the Quebec flag. The fecal bombardment that has terrorized some squeamish Schuylkill Haven residents will soon escalate to biblical proportions. There will be no winners, only losers. Our citizenry will be nothing more than sitting ducks.

The Borough Council announced that force is necessary as the fowl are continued to be fed - ignoring all of the “do not feed” signs. Yet have you noticed that none of the signs are in French? Sacre Bleau!! How in the heck does Council expect these birds to understand the prohibition when they cannot read English?

It is still not too late to give peace a chance.

We have to remain calm calmly and not get our feathers ruffled. One suggestion I have is for the borough to bring in Collie dogs to keep the geese within the water. Local taxes could be raised to support this peacekeeping collie force. Think about it, Burro Day could be replaced with Collie Day. Dogs are more popular as pets than mules, so attendance should increase. If the taxpayers are unwilling to support the collies and squawk at the cost, then snapping turtles could be purchased. Supposedly the turtles feed on geese eggs. Another suggestion I have is for the Borough to play loud music around the clock to terrify the birds. I can donate "We Didn't Start the Fire," "She Bangs," "Ebony and Ivory" and "The Macerana" to this non-violent approach that I am proposing provided I get my CDs back after victory is achieved. I think this suggestion of loud music be tried before all-out war breaks out between Schuylkill Haven and our fine feathered, but greatly misunderstood, friends. Maybe we could get former Attorney General Janet Reno to oversee the operation given her experience with the siege at Waco, Texas. Does anyone know her number?

The day the Burger King came to Pottsville

This one was originally written in 2005, now Market Street is becoming illuminated with all of the flashing signs. However I still have a soft spot in my heart for the Burger King sign. The soft spot in my heart was not caused by over-consumption of fast foods.

Today I am going to talk about the Burger King restaurant on West Market Street in the Yorkville section of Pottsville. Many of you are unaware of its history. Hold onto your hats.
I was not going to miss the arrival of the Burger King to the county seat. It was in the late 1960s when his royal majesty first arrived with his courtesans looking for a location to open up a franchise restaurant that would sell “fast foods” in the coal region. Prior to that time people had to wait several minutes to be served a meal. The city mayor felt that this was way too long; something had to be done. To entice the King to do business with the city, local officials promised to build the “highest monument to his highness” that Schuylkill County had ever seen.
Opponents stated that restrictions on signs in residential neighborhoods were essential; large illuminated signs were not consistent with the image of the residential section it was to built in, such a monument would diminish Pottsville’s historic appeal and local charm, and finally the sign would be a first step in transforming a unique small city into Anytown, USA. They argued that reasonable restrictions on commercial signs would enhance the city and foster our local sense of place, community pride, tourism and economic development. The large sign planned at Burger King would chip away at the distinctive, historic fabric of the city.
“No place retains its special character by accident. Successful communities always have a vision for the future,” cried one opponent.
The proponents scoffed at these critics. “The future is in large, internally illuminated, plastic signs! That is what the people want!” Soon it was decided that if the restaurant would open up in Yorkville, a sign “fit for a King” would be erected along Market Street. The sign would be so large that it would light up the former sleepy village of Yorkville, transforming its appearance to that of Las Vegas (with the gambling of course downtown and not in Yorkville).
For months the plastic artisans worked around the clock. The steel columns were completed by June 14, 1970 and by June 23rd all was ready. John Temple, with twelve mules, succeeded in pulling the signage up West Market Street followed by a large crowd of hungry onlookers, just waiting to gobble up double bacon cheeseburgers by the bagful.
The grand dedication was held July 4, 1970 with elaborate ceremonies. Although the day started out with a heavy downpour, the parade went on as scheduled. Yorkville Hose Company lead the parade with a large banner proclaiming “Hold the Pickle!” followed by the First Humane with its banner: “Hold the Lettuce!” The Women of the Shelter marched behind with a banner, "Special Orders Don't Upset Us!" and The Pottsville Kilties performed one of their last gigs playing a bagpipe rendition of the famous jingle.
All of the city’s notables were in attendance. Now Pottsville was not only the home of John O’Hara, but also of the Big Whopper. Yes, the unveiled sign proclaimed Pottsville to be the “Home of the Whopper!” A tear came to my eye that day. I remembered that the Big Whopper, who had hit the charts with his record, “Chantilly Lace” but never dreamed that the Big Whopper called Pottsville his home. I was now bursting with Pottsville Pride. After his untimely death in the plane crash on February 3, 1959 the Big Whopper was basically forgotten. Now; he was finally getting his just desserts, and I don’t mean Dutch apple pie.
At the dedication the men all bowed and women curtsied when the His Highness, the Burger King, clad in burgundy robes and bejeweled crown on his gargantuan prosthetic-like head, turned on the power to light the large plastic sign and the crowds then swarmed in for croisson’wichs ( with sausage). The sign remains to this day as a blessing from the fixed-grinned, glassy-eyed monarch to his subjects. Long live the King!
A final orator at the dedication proclaimed it was the dawn of a new age in the city’s burgeoning tourist trade that had slumped enormously since the closing of the gin joints along Minersville Street. “Now when the tourists fly in to the Zerbe airport for the Spelling Bee or Winter Carnival activities, they will be able to spot the large sign from 5,000 feet above ground. No longer will the city lose business privilege taxes as a result of out- of-town competition, such as Tommy’s M &S in St. Clair!”
He was absolutely correct. The beauty of the Yorkville Burger sign surpassed not only the grandeur of both the Garfield and Clay monuments, but also the natural splendor of the Route 61 Indian Head to boot! And the tourists took notice indeed. Now in the 21st century, the Burger King sign is the final stop on the walking tour of Pottsville and it is common to see brides, grooms, high school graduates and dropouts getting photographed underneath the illuminated signpost. Long Live the King!

from the mailbag: More economic woes

Several years ago the adult book store shut down abruptly in Schuylkill Haven joining the list of many other businesses to disappear from the county landscape. This generated a letter from one reader.


Dear bb:
What is the economic impact of the Schuylkill Haven Adult Book Store’s closing on the county as a whole?
Signed,
Economically Downtrodden

Dear E.D.
Yes, Schuylkill County appears to be reeling from the economic blow caused by the sudden closing of the Adult Book Store. Schuylkill Haven, “The little borough that could,” had never fully recovered from the closure of the Schuylkill Canal, Hardee’s, and the H.L. Miller plant. Now this newest setback! When will it ever end?

For those of you unfamiliar with the Schuylkill Haven Adult Book Store, it was located at the entrance of Penn State – Schuylkill Campus, and it is gone for good. For decades, the campus was easy to find; you turned when you approached the Adult Book Store. It was to Schuylkill Haven, what the City Lights Bookstore is to San Francisco - not only a fixture but a landmark. Now with the store empty, parents are getting lost, increasing the congestion on Route 61.
The economic impact has already been felt by the taxpayers of the Borough created by the loss in revenue once generated by the electric, water and sewer fees from the Adult Book Store. Borough officials are worried about how they're going to fill the coffers next year. Look out residents for another rate increase!

The sudden closing came as shock to many of the employees. "What is happening?'' an unnamed, despondent exotic dancer questioned, "They keep telling us we have a good workforce in Schuylkill County, yet the jobs that pay a decent wage, like mine, are leaving us. I have been here for 30 years and now what will happen to me? I probably will end up relocating to Tijuana or Juarez.'' Yes, more out-migration.
I contacted SEDCO but could not verify the number of lay-offs and transfers stemming from the closure. I asked the question, “Is SEDCO is working to create other jobs to make up for the losses suffered along the Route 61 corridor?” As you might suspect, E.D., the displaced workers may be entitled to educational retraining grants as the NAFTA-Transitional Adjustment Assistance (NAFTA-TAA) was enacted to assist workers who lost their jobs or whose hours of work and wages were reduced as a result of trade with, or a shift in production to, Canada or Mexico but I could not get an answer from SEDCO, as the phone call was disconnected. Whether the displaced skanky employees qualify or not is still unanswered. I also contacted Senator Arlen Spector and left a message at his office telling him to contact me about federal assistance to the displaced local sleaze merchants. Already famous for developing the “Wall of Sound,” and the “single bullet theory,” Schuylkill Countians are betting on the aged Senator to come through one more time, and I am too. I am waiting for his call back.
I also asked a University economics professor her view on the matter and received the following response: “change is constant and businesses will continue to expand and contract. The key to keeping the county's economic development growing is to be proactive in recruitment of new businesses and to help existing businesses expand and prosper. You must remember that the Book Store had to compete with MTV, the SuperBowl Half time show, as well as the internet. That is tough ground to hoe, no pun intended.” My phone call was strangely disconnected once again.

E.D., there is certainly enough blame to go around for the loss of the Adult Book Store. Some is attributable to those local residents traveling out of county for their reading material or shopping on-line. Also, the Chamber of Commerce should have done a better job of promoting a “buy local” mentality. Others place the blame on the Book Store not receiving its long sought after KOZ designation. Who knows for sure, but it is a crying shame, isn't it? However, E.D., the time for finger pointing has past.
Now, E.D., if you are in need of some good adult books to read, I suggest the following: Ten North Frederick and The Sea of Grass, both by local authors. These are all available at the Schuylkill Haven or Pottsville Library. Sorry E.D., neither have live dancers.

The summer of 2004: Golden Gloves and Dick Chaney

Back in the summer of 2004 the vice president came to Pottsville and there was an outdoor boxing exhibition on North Centre Street, and of course, Market Street was being resurfaced once again. It was also the year of the Bush-Kerry election.

I will tell you, whether or not you care, what I did on my summer vacation. I spent it in Pottsville. For the most part, I watched Market Street being resurfaced. However, in mid-August, after Cruise Night, the current Mrs. Trout and I were able to get ringside seats at the “Brawl at City Hall.” At first, we thought it involved a good old- fashioned scuffle over the City-Comcast contract renewal, with chairs flying in the air by the citizenry demanding their favorite channels be added. However, we were pleasantly surprised to see actual amateur Golden Gloves fight on North Centre Street. That was the night we ran into Mammy standing by the Peter J.McCloskey Post Office, holding a large ball of yarn in one hand and knitting needles in the other. She looked like a haggard Madame Defarge from Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities. Apparently she had the event confused and believed a quilting bee was to be held.
“I thought it was the shawl at City Hall,” she muttered.
While over a thousand people were in attendance, many holding large balls of yarn, the main attraction was the Jonathan Murphy fight just before midnight. He’s the young fighter from Minersville. By the time that fight started, Mammy had dropped her yarn, and forgot about the Comcast contract renewal. She was standing on her seat yelling, screaming and waving her flabby arms.
“Come on boys, we paid good money to see a fight, let’s get ready to rumble…”

By the stroke of midnight she transformed herself into a Mickey Goldmill from the Rocky film – you know that Burgess Meredith character - except for her blue-rinsed hair and panty hose.
“Go for the ribs! Don’t let that bastard breathe!”

While at the fight, word got out that “Chaney was coming to Pottsville.” Mammy was a movie fan and she swore up and down that it had to be Lon Chaney, Jr. trying to raise funds for the restoration of her beloved Majestic Theatre. You know, the abandoned Farmer’s Market next to the Coney. Mammy prays every night that she will live long enough to be able to watch some of the classics when it reopens.

After the fight, we all headed over to the Historical Society, as a late night discussion was being held on the history of traffic patterns on Centre Street. We skipped the discussion and found the list of famous people who had visited the City. It was alphabetical, beginning with the Swedish group, Abba and ending with Zeppo Marx. To my astonishment, Henry Clay never came to the City, despite the humungous statue that sits high above Centre Street’s vertical park. When I asked why, the curator informed me that one of my ancestors, Caiphus E. Trout, had organized “Canal Boat Veterans for Truth” during the election of 1844. Apparently, this group of disgruntled canal boat crewmates exposed Clay to be a braggart, whose claim of inventing the game of poker did not hold up to scrutiny. This uproar cost Clay the election and he refused to come to Schuylkill County. After James Polk won the election he commenced what some called an imperialist land grab under the pretext of Mexico having weapons of mass destruction. Alas, the only things found south of the border were some stale burritos and salsa sauce. But such is politics. When the war was over, the United States got California and Pottsville got the Clay statue. Ironically, if you look closely at the statue, you will notice an uncanny resemblance to Caiphus E. Trout holding a ball of yarn.
I was bewildered to discover that the first sitting president to come to Pottsville was Harry S. Truman in 1948. Why he did not stand up puzzles historians to this day. The one guy with the bad back, who should have been sitting, was Senator Jack Kennedy. He stood tall in Garfield Square in 1960 and gave his famed, “Ich bein ein Pottsviller” speech to a massive crowd trying to get into the diner for glazed donuts. Many forget that the less glamorous vice president Nixon was in the square the same year declaring, “I am not a crook” to a puzzled audience, not used to such declarations from their politicians. Mayor Mike Close promised to name a swimming pool after the presidential candidate who drew the larger audience in 1960 and that was Kennedy, of course. The rest is history, and that’s no ball of yarn. So that is how I spent my summer vacation. Pathetic, wasn’t it?

trout's mailbag

In 2000, an itinerant preacher roamed the coal region and made headlines. I am sometimes asked for help, and one letter requested information on What's Your Name. I was no help at all. In fact I was annoying. The article does conjure up memories of North Centre Street in Pottsville.




Dear bb:

What ever happened to What’s Your Name?

Frantic

Dear Frantic,

There are several possible answers to this question. First of all, you may be referring to the oldies song, “What’s Your Name” by Don and Juan. These two singers were born Claude Johnson and Roland Trone. They scored one big hit in 1962, entitled "What's Your Name." The single, which peaked at #7 in 1962 on WPPA, has become a doo-wop classic with its trademark ending of Shooby-doo-bop-bah-dah. Everyone over the age of fifty knows the hidden meaning behind those words; they are a variation of the Freemason word for their secret handshake, Shib-bo-leth. In fact, if you drink enough while listening to the song, all the Masonic secrets are revealed to you. After memorizing the words, countless opportunities were open to me. In fact, I got my first railroad job because of those words (as well as my red fez hat and Shriner shoes).
Besides a Masonic Lodge hit, it was played at The Willow Lake dances in Schuylkill Haven whenever the Jordan Brothers took a break. I am not sure if the Jordan Brothers were Masons or not. Sadly, singer Juan died in 1983. His partner Don is still alive belting out tunes with hidden Masonic messages. Rumors that he once operated a Pizzeria on North Centre Street were never confirmed. However, there was a pizza shop named “Don’s” near the “Going My Way Bar.” The latter had nothing to do with the Bing Crosby movie of 1944 in which the crooner appeared as Father Chuck O’Malley and sang, “Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra” often mistaken for Shooby-doo-bop-bah-dah. The GMW Bar featured scantily clad chubby go-go dancers, not Irish lullabies nor Masonic handshakes. Did you ever try dancing to a lullaby? Try it sometime; you will fall asleep on your feet. In fact, lullabies were prohibited on the premises and the barkeeper promptly ejected anyone requesting a lullaby. I think the most popular song at the “Going My Way” was The Stones’ “Brown Sugar,” which was not featured in the Bing Crosby movie. It certainly was the most popular song when I frequented the place. Remember when all of the dancers wore skimpy outfits that were made in America? Isn’t it a shame that NAFTA has ruined the Schuylkill County garment industry? Now, all of the skimpy go-go outfits are made overseas. Years ago, a local go-go dancer could proudly walk one block and get outfitted at the Miss Pennsylvania Factory, where the union label still meant something.

I think I have been digressing from Frantics original question concerning “What’s Your Name.” Frantic could be referring to the Supergroup Lynyrd Skynryd, and their hit of the same name. Remember the lyrics, “Won't you come upstairs, girl, and have a drink of champagne?” What a great bar room song! No hidden Masonic messages in that one.
Frantic, there is still one other possible answer left to your question. You could also be referring to Carl Joseph, the bearded evangelist who sported long hair and wore a cloak and sandals - not the fez or floppy shoes worn by Shriners. He made the rounds in the coal region in 2000 and he made a splash in the local media. He had no connection with Father O’Malley, The Going My Way Bar or the Pulaski Masonic Lodge of Pottsville. I am sure the preacher is who you are referring to, so I tried to locate him. I called the Hazleton telephone operator, asking her to connect me to “What’s Your Name.” She hung up on me. I called her back three times, slowly repeating “What’s Your Name.” I was threatened with arrest for harassment by communication and a restraining order. So, if you, or anyone else, know What's Your Name's whereabouts, then please tell me, as the telephone company is no help.
Speaking of help, I hope I have helped you Frantic. If “The Going My Way Bar” was open right now I would invite you to be my guest; I would give you a hearty Masonic secret handshake and buy you an ice cold Yuengling. We could sit at the bar, cigarette in hand, watching the chubby go go dancer in her union-made outfit gyrate to The Stones or Lynyrd Skynyrd while we pondered the whereabouts of You know who….What’s his Name? Who's On First? Shooby-doo-bop-bah-dah.

b.b. trout

State Dance Controversy

Pennsyvlania's large legislative body apparently wastes time and tax dollars on trivial issues as naming the state bug, state fungus, and state dance. The debate on the latter resulted in a letter to the editor which follows:

It is not too late to stop the madness that is going on in the state capital. I am talking about the debate over the state dance. There must not be a rush to judgment to enshrine the "polka" as a the state dance. This is a decision that future generations will have to live with. History is not on the side of the polka and our high-priced legislators should wake up to that fact.

Despite the lyrics of a certain song, the polka did not originate in Scranton or anywhere else in the Keystone state. The dance started in "bohemia," a section of far-away Germany. Do our lawmakers realize the connotations that having a bohemian dance stamped as the state dance will have on our impressionable youngsters? To me the word "bohemian" conjures up thoughts of beatniks, poems that don't rhyme, and sour tasting yogurt. Do we want Pennsylvania associated with the likes of those things? I certainly hope not.

Any fourth grader will tell you that the polka is historically incorrect when discussing our state, the proud "Quaker state." William Penn and his religous followers were never noted for their dance routines. In fact, only two Quakers made it to the White House. Herbert Hoover was the first and he never danced. The other was Nixon. I have a videotape of Tricia Nixon's wedding and the Quaker president did a waltz, not a polka at his daughter's reception. Therefore, the Quaker state cannot be linked with the strange, bohemian polka.

During the War for Independence, our founding fathers and founding mothers had little time to dance. If they did, then it was the minuet, not the polka. If it was done at all during that era, it would have been done by lonely Hessian soldiers to alleviate the boredom. Remember that Bob Hope was not around yet to entertain our Hessian mercenaries. His USO show started much later. Again, my argument is sound; no historical figure in Pennsylvania ever did the polka. Not Betsy Ross, ner Ben Franklin, nor Milton Shapp.

I am not arguing against having a state dance. I think it deserves one. Hawaii has its hula. Virginia has its reel, and New York has its YMCA dance. I think that with baby boomers in the state gaining as much political clout as the senior citizens, I propose one of the following: "the watusi," "the twist," or the "bristol stomp." Any of those would be more dignified than the bohemian polka. The dances I have proposed have Pennsylvania roots. They were performed on American Bandstand and locally at the "Mayor's Dance" held at the Pottsville parking lot. They were also performed at Willow Lake, the Globe, the Moose and the Y, all before dancing disappeared from the social scene to be replaced by body surfing in a mosh pit. It seems that our youngsters prefer to be treated as if the were pieces of third class luggage at the eastern airline baggage pick-up rather than the dancing machines that God intended them to be.

Please stop what you are doing right now; pick up your phone and call your local representative and tell him, "Watusi, yes; polka, no! When will Harrisburg wake up and dance to the music"? We need a statesman in Harrisburg in the mold of Patrick Henry who will have the courage to stand up and loudly proclaim, "Give me Watusi, or give me death."

The General's Top Ten

In 1997 the then Mayor of Pottsville circulated a petition requesting that our favorite son, General George Joulwan, relocate to his hometown of Pottsville after he retired. When the petition failed I tried to figure out why he should have selected Pottsville for his retirement homestead. I came up with ten reasons.The Pottsville Republican ran the list (but censored the last suggestion)but without comment, the General rejected everyone one of the reasons. I don't know why.

Top Ten Reasons General Joulwan should retire in Pottsville:

• Tanks will be permitted to participate in the Cruise Night Parade.


• The Mayor will cease his hunger strike if he agrees to return.


• Beetle Bailey, Sgt. Snorkel, and Steve Canyon cartoon cut-outs will be erected on Garfield Square during the Christmas season.


• He would be slam-dunk for title of "King of the Vulcans" or mascot "Pottsie Ottsie" during the Winter Carnival.


• Retired military will get a discount at the Joulwan Park "chip and putt."


• The roomy, vacant Yuengling Ice Cream Dairy across from the Brewery has a war-torn Bosnia feel to it, and therefore would be a perfect location to work on memoirs.


• The city needs real leadership if it wants to finally come out on top in the annual Pottsville-Port Carbon War Games.


• Only a former NATO commander is able to groom, discipline and whip the American Way May Fair attendees into shape.


• Rumor has it that an Army-Navy surplus store may reopen on Centre Street.


• While it may not be "Tail Hook," the Winter Carnival offers a great time to all that attend.

Rename Pottsville? part II

There had some some discussion over changing the name of Pottsville to something more vibrant and I was a leading proponent. That is why the name still remains Pottsville.

My prior suggestion of renaming Pottsville has attracted some fanfare. Our county seat could adopt a new hip image as Mauch Chunk did years ago. when it became Jim Thorpe. It is now universally accepted that the name Pottsville is often confused with either Pottstown or Pottsylvania (a la Rocky & Bullwinkle). It appears that there is no longer any objection to renaming the city in honor of a celebrity who had no contact with the city. Mauch Chunk got away with it, and Volgograd became Stalingrad without much dissent. We can do likewise and get away with it. Already our city honors Henry Clay who never set foot here. John Kennedy who stopped briefly at the Garfield Diner for a bowl of chicken noodle soup never did one lap in the pool that bears his name. Even Stooge Moe Howard has an Avenue named in his honor despite never playing the Hippodrome. Many influencial people now agree with me that Jerry Garcia would be a great choice for a new name. However PADCO has been informed that his remains are not for sale. No if, and or buts. So we may have to lower our expectations. All is not lost; the Grateful drummer's old drummer had also died. His name was Pigpen. That was not his baptismal name. I think it was Ron McNernan and I am sure his remains could be negotiated at a much lower cost to the taxpayers than Garcia although the name Pigpen, PA would take time getting used to.

So we need alternatives. Many want to go with the name of a deceased Native American or sports figure. Charismatic and heroic figures such as Crazy Horse, Squanto, and Geronimo are beyond our budget. Pocahantas would tie up the city in litigation for years with the Disney Corporation. Other names that come to mind are Jay Silverheels or the crying Indian from the "Keep America Beautiful" Ads or the Indian from the Village People. I am not sure if they are alive or dead.

Sports figures are too expensive. Darryl Stawberry maybe needs the money but he is still alive. We cannot wait. We need a new name now. I think our city coffer can only afford the likes of Gorgeous George, or Derby winner Secretariat. If we want to a local sports figure, Pottsville has produced Charles Guetling, who loaded up his wheelbarrow with a keg of beer from the Yuengling brewery. He pushed the wheelbarrow 880 miles to the Chicago's World's Fair. Maybe we can strick a deal with the Guetling estate?

Norwegian township vs. hiking trails

Several years ago there was a plan to build hiking trails in Schuylkill County. Apparently this met with the ire of several norwegian township residents who protested loudly thereby proving that empty barrels do make the most noise. I did some anthrapological research in the township and came up with ten reasons why the uproar over hiking trails:

• Wherever hiking trails were built, family life as we know it has been destroyed



• Children who take up hiking forget about the more important things in life, such as internet chat rooms and video games



• Once a hiking trail is opened, the township would become overrun with girl scouts hawking their cookies



• The area proposed for hiking trails could be put to better use, such as sites for illegal tire dumping



• If God had meant man to walk in the woods then he would not have created the television remote control



• Anyone who has read the "Pied Piper" or "Little Red Riding Hood" realizes the hazards of hiking trails



• If hiking became popular it create a shortage of lederhosen and knee socks that the local factories could not fill



• The noise from hiking boots treading on dirt and gravel is deafening



• MarLin does not need anymore gnomes, leprechauns, and hobbits wandering in and getting friendly with the Marlin womenfolk.

San Francisco and Pottsville: Connected at birth?

This is another that appeared in the Pottsville Republican years ago. It actually is part one of the movement to change the name of Pottsville to something else.

To increase local tourism, our experts have been wasting their time comparing Pottsville with Jim Thorpe. A better comparison would be to compare Pottsville with San Francisco because of the striking similarities.

• San Francisco's rise to prominance was attributed to "gold" while Pottsville's rise was attributed to "black gold" or anthracite;



• Both cities have beautiful quaint homes built upon steep hills;



• San Francisco has its cable car, Pottsville has cable television;



• San Francisco has the Pacific Ocean, Pottsville has the Crimson tide and the Green wave;



• San Francisco's downtown was leveled by an earthquake, Pottsville's downtown was partially leveled to make room for parking lots;



• San Francisco has the "Cow Palace," Pottsville has "Bull's Head."



• San Francisco is located near Palo Alto, so is Pottsville;



• San Francisco has eccentrics filling its streets, Pottsville has ten times as many;



• San Francisco is noted for "acid rock" and Chinatown, Pottsville has "acid rain" and two Chinese restaurants;



• San Francisco is proud of the "Giants," Pottsville is proud of its "Giant" Supermarket.

The Carbon County seat however did have the courage years ago to acquire the remains of a deceased public figure and rename itself in his honor. Mauch Chunk became Jim Thorpe once the corpse arrived; the rest is history. Perhaps with the close connection between San Francisco and Pottsville the remains of a deceased San Franciscan musician could be purchased with the use of PADCO funds. Maybe if we are lucky Pottsville could become a more hip, "Jerry Garcia, Pennsylvania."

Revised Top ten tourist sites in Pottsville

This was the first trout article ever printed, I have slightly revised it. It appeared in the Pottsville Republican. I wrote it under the influence of Yuengling beer after listening to some b.s. about how Pottsville can become a tourist attraction. If the city was serious about tourism in Pottsville it would clean up the area around the brewery which attracts the most people rather than encourage the seediness that already exists there.

With an emphasis on increasing local tourism, the City of Pottsville should target the following market groups:

• Spelunkers. Who can forget the underground restooms that were located at the corner of Centre and Mahantongo Streets? The restrooms were buried under an avalanche of federal funny money in the 1970s, but with an aggressive ad campaign, subterranean adventurers could be lured to explore the lost toilet facilities of Pottsville;



• Archeaologists. The city's numerous parking lots once contained beautiful buildings left to rot, archeaologists could be lured back to guess what type of civilization once inhabited the area;



• World War II historians. The rubble and decaying buildings in lower Mahantongo Street remind me of Dresden after the fire bombing and it could entice those WW II buffs interested in seeing such a replication;



• Roller Coaster enthusiasts. One car ride down East Market Street is more thrilling than a ride on the Super Dooper Looper, we just have to get the word out;



• "Star Trekkies." With the Hysterical District loaded with an assortment of strange people wandering about, the City could give them space costumes to wear, luring the Trekkies with a genuine out-of-earth experience;



• Court Groupies. The Molly Trial reinactment is always a big hit (I swear that she did not do what she was charged with). Perhaps a reinactment of the Nutkin the Squirrel death penalty proceeding could be done, or a grand jury investigation of the torching of the old Pottsville Club;



• Mineral bathers. Forget Saratoga Springs! Pottsville's Norwegian Creek is now visible and with PADCO's help this unused pool of water could be transformed into a therapeutic natural bath guaranteed to cure male pattern baldness;



• Parade Enthusiasts. With the large number of unwed young mothers walking around with their children at night, a push to create "The Great Pottsville Nocturnal Baby Parade" could replace Cruise Night as the number one draw (it is quieter and uses less gas also);



• Paranormal study groups. Whenever a taco shell, wall, or underground pass has an image that resembles a spiritual figure on it, thousands come to look. The damp wall that is passed off as a City Fountain near the Quality Hotel could be hyped in such a fashion. To avoid any separation of church and state controversy, perhaps an image of a taco shell can be promoted just as effectively;



• Naturalists. Pottsville has a long tradition dating back two hundred years that can be marketed. Whenever the temperature goes above seventy degrees, all the men of the city take off their tops and walk about. This local phenomena, if properly promoted, could attract numerous naturalists, Chippendale talent scouts, whalers and dermatologists.