Reflections on the Labor Day Pigeon Shoot

There was a time that "Labor Day" meant "Coleman Pigeon Shoot." This article was first published in the Pottsville Free Press Labor Day, 2004. This one is dedicated to Michael Vicks.

The summer of 2004 is coming to a close without the anxiously awaited St. Clair Bikini contest being held; and the official reason given was that “it would be offensive to the senior citizens of the community.” My, how the passage of time changes people! Some of these offended St. Clair AARP members probably forgot that they were young adults when Brian Hyland crooned his hit, “Itsy Bitsy Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” forty-four years ago. while they frolicked about in Wolf Creek. These seniors probably still have some that swimwear in their closet. Why the turnaround? I just don’t buy into that reasoning.
Looking back, Schuylkill County has had many controversial fund-raising events over the years. I have been reading about them at the County Historical Society and came away with a deeper understanding. For instance, in the early nineteenth century, City founder John Pott, known to town folk as Pott Diddy, started the city’s first Wet Moustache Contest. That event would be attacked in the newspapers, despised by the fairer sex and held up to constant ridicule. “Grown men should not have their God-given facial hair dampened by beer!” Despite such criticism the contest persisted for decades. It wasn’t until the suffragettes won the battle for the vote that the contest was open to city women as well as men. But with the arrival of electrolysis, women’s participation faded as did the contest.
Did you know that in the 1930’s Shenandoah was the scene of the controversial Wet Babushka Contest that was held every Fourth of July at Sandy Beach? However, when Hitler invaded Poland and World War II erupted, a significant shortage of nylon, silk and rayon occurred, crippling the babushka production in northeast Pennsylvania and the contest abruptly ended, never to resume.
The most contentious of all fund-raising events was the infamous Gary Coleman Pigeon Shoot that was held in Hegins every Labor Day. Yes, the star of “Diff’rent Strokes” had this controversial gun shoot named after him. He never attended, but again, the great athlete, Jim Thorpe, never visited Mauch Chunk that was later renamed in his honor. Apparently, the west-enders were simply in awe of the little television star, and it was their way of expressing appreciation. But it was certainly a weird way to show appreciation when you think about it.
The event was based on having diseased, flying vermin imported from Philadelphia to be shot out of a box, one at a time, as each bird tried to fly back to Manayunk or South Street. After being shot or wounded, young boys, preferably those with weaker immune systems than adults, both picked up the carcasses of these dead disease-ridden birds and rung the necks of the wounded ones (always ringing in a clock-wise direction). All the while, the women of Hegins swayed back and forth, performing the frenzied sacrificial ritual dance so often associated with the event; a ceremony reminiscent of the native dance on Skull Island in the King Kong movie.
Philadelphia city officials was so amazed that there was a market for both its waste and vermin in Schuylkill County, that deals were entered for the construction of more landfills to hold not only the imported trash that was in great demand in this area, but also for city vermin. Before all hell broke loose over the Shoot, city rats were on the negotiation table.
Yes, the Gary Coleman Pigeon Shoot was to end in the midst of riot and mayhem. It was inevitable, as even the lowest of God’s creatures have their protectors - be it the rat, the pigeon, or even the whole-life insurance salesman. Word got around the nation via pigeon carriers of course, that birds were being kidnapped off the statues in Philadelphia, blindfolded, and then loaded on boats to sail up the Schuylkill to the west end of our county, to face death by firing squad. Soon the pigeon rights protestors chartered the next canal boat and landed to hold large demonstrations - the likes of which were not seen since the days of the Civil War draft riots in Cass Township. The demonstrations continued for many years, with scores arrested for various offenses such as disorderly conduct, simple assault or impersonating Gary Coleman without a license.
High-level negotiations were held in the county court house to bring tranquility back to Hegins Valley. In fact, Henry Kissinger was called in as a special mediator. With his skills, a truce was signed between the organizers and the demonstrators. No longer would pigeons, rats or whole life insurance salesmen be imported into the County, while at the same time landfills would be increased in size to accept the sought- after urban trash,waste and garbage. Unreasonable demands, such as limiting the size of a pigeon family to two, and having “Diff’rent Strokes” declared the county television show, were withdrawn, making it possible for the historic peace treaty to be signed in the Schuylkill County Courthouse. “Peace with Honor,” declared Dr. Kissinger to the hundreds of news reporters that were camped outside. “Both sides came away from the table with something to crow about,” proclaimed the former secretary of state, who loved a good pun as much as he did the county Bavarian Festival.

"Pottsville 10,000 B.C."

Back in 2004 along the east side of The Claude A. Lord Boulevard in Pottsville (across from the old 84 Lumber business), someone was digging away at Greenwood Hill. The project went on for months and it intrigued me, so I wrote this article for the Pottsville Free Press. I was certainly inspired by the mysterious excavation and the determination of that one man was planning to move a mountain. For one brief moment I was ashamed of myself for never completing the hole I began when I was a youngster, with its destination "China"... I said just for one brief moment.



Are you as surprised as I am by watching large chunks of Greenwood Hill being removed along Route 61 in Pottsville? When the excavation begin last year, I assumed that the long overdue tunnel was being constructed to finally link downtown Pottsville with Port Carbon, thereby eliminating the bottleneck on East Norwegian Street. In any event I think the tunnel is the best idea since the widening of the Centre Street sidewalks in the 1970s.

Someone told me that it won’t be a car tunnel but rather a subway connecting Pottsville and Leiby's Restaurant in Tamaqua. If true, such an endeavor requires a lot of planning. I wonder how many stops the subway will have along the way? How will they prevent turnstile jumpers such as myself? Will there be a stop at The General Joulwan Skate Board Park? Will I be permitted to bring a pie back with me on the subway from Lieby’s? Will Leiby's still have coconut custard pies when I get there?

When I called the City Street Department to verify, I was curtly told that there was to be neither a subway nor a tunnel.

Then someone told me the project was really an archeological excavation. Apparently, cro-magnon people back in the Stone Age populated the area that Pottsville now occupies. Take my word for it, as I am an expert. What are my anthropological credentials? Well, I used to take a daily Flintstone vitamin and I still have my 1960’s poster of Raquel Welch starring in “One Million Years, B.C.” That should be sufficient. Many of the descendants of these primitive cave people still remain in the area. If you don’t believe me then go to Walmart on any weekend. Look around and see for yourself. Cave people still walk among us!

Do you often wonder what Pottsville was like in 10,000 B.C.? I often do; especially when I am stuck at a traffic light on Centre and I watch some troglodytes shuffle along the sidewalk. I know that some things haven’t changed too much; for instance some of our streets are still as bumpy as they were back then. But for the most part, things have changed with the passage of time. For instance, our Cro-Magnon and Neanderthal ancestors never celebrated a Winter Carnival as we do. No sir, as they were just getting out of the Ice Age; cold was last thing they wanted to celebrate. Similarly, Cruise Night as we know it did not yet exist then, as the wheel had yet to be invented. No Spelling Bee either, as their language consisted of only a few grunts. Grunts are too repetitive and too easy to spell. Yes, times were tough back then, so please don’t get misty-eyed for the good old days of 10,000 B.C.

Our early ancestors had it rough just trying to keep alive. According to the song, “Alley Oop” these people survived on nothing but bearcat stew, and wore only clothes from wildcat’s hide. If the lyrics are true (and I have no reason to doubt the truthfulness of a song that hit number One on the Billboard chart), then there were no 24 hour Giant Supermarkets and no Fashion Bugs. They also had to avoid being eaten by those dinosaurs that roamed around. It is the remnants of those dinosaurs that the archeologists are trying to locate and dig up right now as we speak. Greenwood Hill is loaded with dinosaur bones! Tyrannosaurus Rex, Snuffleupagus, and Wooly Mammoth just to name a few. They are all there, only hard to find.

The other Sunday I went out to the site to dig for myself, as I certainly did not want any of Pottsville’s ancient treasures to be plundered and removed to a faraway museum in Reading or Wilkes-Barre. After several hours of burrowing I found what I believed to be skull of a Neanderthal - proof of a lost civilization. I was ecstatic! I immediately took it to the County Historical Society for analysis. After a careful examination I was told that I was mistaken. Joy now turned to sorrow. I had not discovered a Neanderthal skull, as it should have consisted of fossilized bone. The specimen that I brought in was apparently plastic. I was then informed that it appeared to be the head of a “cabbage patch doll” that a child must have discarded when that craze died out in the late 1980s. In fact, the price tag was still visible. As for the other items I brought in, I was told that Guers Ice Tea certainly was not sold in 10,000 B.C. I was instructed by the curator of the Society to get out of the building or the police would be summoned.

What else could be happening out there on that Route 61 dig? The only other possibility would be an excavation to locate the lost tomb of Mayor Claude A. Lord! Take my word for it; I have Egyptologist credentials. You know, I was once hauled into court for illegally downloading the Steve Martin hit, “King Tut.” That should be sufficient.

Point/Counterpoint: Should the Nativity HIgh Band Reunite?

it was rumored that the Nativity High School Band was planning a comeback for the Fall of 2007. Here is a early photo taken at one of the first concerts, years before the band performed at Altamont Speedway. Click the picture to enlarge (the photo, not you).

Trout called Air Your Opinion and the following is a transcript of the dialogue that ensued:

Trout: I was delighted to read that one of my all time favorite bands is planning a reunion. Now if only they can get The Pottsville Kiltie Bagpipe Band to follow suit; one of the best all girl groups of all time, better than the Go-Go's. Seriously, I think the reunion of the Nativity Band will be the best thing for the county since Renninger's Market. You know, the band had been around longer than the Stones. Can you believe that? Yes, the band had been running out of steam, but I am positive it will be better than ever after its hiatus. Some say that a reunited or reconstituted band simply relies on the so-called "nostalgia factor" and creates no new magic. I disagree. Kiss got its groove back when the quartet reunited. So will the Nativity Band.

Commentator: A “new” Nativity band just won’t be the same. The new group will simply rely on the worn out oldies; I predict that the band will have a whole new lineup with maybe one or two old geezers thrown in. That stinks. I am definitely not interested in listening to new drummers or new piccolo and tuba players learning the great classics that I grew up with, and then trying to pass themselves off as "the Nativity Band." I am talking about those magical numbers such as the Notre Dame Victory March, The Star Spangled Banner and Anchors Aweigh. That magic is gone forever. Hip Hop and death metal now reign, get with it Trout.

Trout: The Nativity reunion band will put on the ultimate musical concert, a sensory experience that will be hard to describe in words. Those band members are old friends, in a sense, to all of us that grew up humming their tunes and singing along; they have been living in our heads for years or decades. I still can’t get the Pink Panther Theme, or The Hustle out of my mind. It brings back memories of a certain half-time show at a Shenandoah Catholic football game in the late 60s. I remember the band all decked out in their gawdy psychedelic green and gold uniforms. The theatrical presentation that they put on that night! Better than the Temptations or Steppin' Fetchet. They marched perfectly to the music. When the band intricately weaved together the themes from Batman and The Green Hornet, the Shenandoah crowd, normally subdued, went into a frenzy. Fire hoses were brought out. The band was on fire that night, for sure!

Commentator: Substitutions of band members are irritating. I hated when Pete Best was replaced by Ringo. What is the point of reuniting with someone you have never met before. I don’t care if the newer version even plays better than the original; it’s hard to match the excitement. If you want to hear The Pink Panther Theme, or Winchester Cathedral, then just download them from Napster.

Trout: You are being too much of a purist. A band should not just disappear and remain a memory. A reunion of bands like Cream, the Police and the Nativity Band can show young whippersnappers how to play real music. I think you are being a musical snob. Just because we were able to catch the Nativity Band during their original heyday, future generations should not be deprived of seeing a band that should be shared by the whole world.

Commentator: The end of the Nativity Band was a painful period. The band was worn out. We have to move forward. There are other newer, exciting bands out there. I bet you never even listened to Cradle of Filth. Now that is a band for today.

Trout: I was there for that legendary, last live performance: the celebrated rooftop show held on a cold, windy and wintry mid-afternoon, high atop the Nativity High School on Lawton’s Hill. It brought Pottsville to a standstill and police had to be called in. The Nativity Band performed its gritty rendition of God Bless America (Except for New Jersey) and that song alone placed the show in the annals of musical history with its wild bass drum solo, and blaring horn accompaniment. Not one of the new groups, even The Cradle of Filth, can ever generate so much raw, sensuous energy. The band really pumped up the audience that afternoon. As its encore, the band ripped through a powerful extended versions of The Pina Colada Song and I’d Like to Teach the World To Sing. Pure clarinet magic! I remember heading down to Mickey's Fountain on East Norwegian Street for a coke and a Raleigh cigarette afterwards, not realizing that I witnessed the end of an era. Music would never be the same, nor cigarettes.

I await the return of the Nativity Band and Mickey's Fountain. I miss them both; even more than the cigarettes.

The unique architecture of Pottsville

In the summer of 2007 a controversy erupted over the removal of a mural that was located across the street from this building on Laurel Boulevard. The mural was thought to be an eyesore.

“We’re trying to promote a positive atmosphere for our residents and our city,” Housing Authority Director Shields was recently quoted when asked about the mural depicting old Minersville Street that was painted over on Laurel Boulevard.

Mammy Trout was upset about that decision, comparing it to the Taliban's destruction of the buddhist statues in Afghanistan. I thought she was all wet, and I heartily agree with all attempts to eliminate the city’s tainted past. It's the 21st century now and great things are happening all around us. Pottsville is bustling with building activity. Look for yourself; there is a brand spankin’ new parking lot across from the old Moose Building, now the home of the Legacy Bank or whatever name the bank goes by now. I can't keep up with those bank mergers.
Up on Laurel Boulevard there is a building that was constructed a year or two ago that has architects from around the world trying to copy its design. It is the main reason that the old mural just had to come down, as the mural was too distracting.
One local architect was asked to comment on the structure and what it represents to the community. He responded that, “This is the most exuberant art deco building in the city today. The immense use of sky blue plastic on the roof presents a vibrant and sharp image among the many other buildings that line Laurel Boulevard and the historic courthouse area. Equally impressive, however, is the interior which is not open to the public”. He praised the project as a "simple idea, strongly pulled together. It is Pottsville Pride at its best.”

I am still at a loss as to the purpose of the building. Does a family live inside? I keep wondering. Although it received a building permit, no one at the code enforcement office even seems to know the name of this whimsical building, yet alone its purpose. All I know is that it certainly must bring delight to the Housing Authority apartment residents living across the street no longer subjected to looking at the mural. If you are still unaware of the location, the building sits just west of the house with the steep front yard that is covered with stone, which can only be described as a beautiful zen rock garden that the Japanese refer to as "karesansui."
Many are unaware of the presence of this humble wooden structure photographed above, as for years drivers were distracted by the mural of Old Minersville Street. The building appears at times to be an urban mirage. It is a sophisticated gem erected with little fanfare and, as far as I know, no government subsidies. Certainly it is a nice transition from historical to modern, a celebration of both spare materials and the city’s character. After spending a few moments at the site, I feel like yelling out at the top of my lungs, “I love you, Pottsville!” Just one glimpse of the building gives me a much-needed lift, a great relief from those silly murals that clutter Pottsville’s streetscape.

Whoever erected this building is, without a doubt, a genius who combined the old and the new with playful sophistication. I compare the architect to Ayn Rand's Howard Roark, the brilliant idealist who neither pandered to the masses nor compromised his vision. An aesthetic eye is apparent in every intricate detail of this masterpiece. Look carefully at the photographs and now envision yourself entering the stone and dirt courtyard to the left of the building, walking in on a path made of simple planks of wood, stunned by the simplicity of the design. A hip, sky blue plastic top flows down into the earthen piazza as it is was some cosmic carpet from the heavens bringing Zeus himself down to Laurel Boulevard to mingle with you and the other mortals that dwell in the fabled city of Pottsville.
On a closer inspection you will find no windows and only one small door! Yes, it is one of the most ecologically advanced buildings in the city. Hats off to the visionary Planning Commission for allowing such an experimental, yet charming, structure to be built; saving the city enough oil to deep fry thousands of funnel cakes at the American Way Fair every year. Al Gore himself would be as proud of this building as he would of the funnel cakes.
Standing in the front of the building one first takes note of the new “Keep Out” signage next to the green art design. Again, it is certainly a blend of the modern with the primitive, Neanderthal-like cave designs that are found in the caves of our most early ancestors.
I am sure that this architect will have his or her detractors, some saying that it reminds them of the slums outside of Rio, but who can argue with the local materials used– plastic from the old Port Carbon Mirawall factory, tar paper, rusted nails and a spectacular collage of wood. Yes, look closely and the wood that is used does not match. It is a palate of wooden shades, a mix of oak, ginko, chestnut, sycamore, pine and so many other woods, in one grand celebration of the trees of northeast Pennsylvania. The architect is truly a wood nymph and whenever I hear a detractor criticize, I simply yell out three words, “Give us more!”

Eat your heart out Orwigsburg.

Helicopters and boom-bas

In 2007 helicopters became the rage in Pottsville.

I was there to watch the helicopter take off from Pottsville’s new, high tech heliport at 14th and Cedar Streets; it was by accident, no pun intended. Mammy Trout was going to her weekly boomb-ba practice at the Catholic War Vets when she tripped over the instrument she was dragging with her. It was very hot out and she had trouble with her arthritis, and I know I should have given her a ride instead of laying on the sofa watching Channel 15; you know, the Pottsville Comcast station with the hard to read community bulletin board. I can watch it for hours just trying to figure out when the sewer and recreation authorities meet. It's like a Rubic's cube to me.
If you are not familiar with the German boom-bas instrument, it is a long pole, resembling a pogo stick, which has tied to it cowbells, cymbals, sleigh bells and a tambourine. It is played with a drumstick. It may have been invented by Antonio Stradivari before he turned his attention to the violin back in early 18th century. On the other hand it could have been invented by Spike Jones or even as a practical joke by an unknown Pennsylvania Dutchman. Who knows? In any event it is a great instrument to play polka music or any music depending on how much alcohol has been consumed. I remember one night of heavy drinking in which Mammy’s troupe got a standing ovation for their rendition of How Great Thou Art.
As soon as Mammy’s left foot got tangled in dangling sleigh bells, she hit the ground hard and fast. Luckily the sleigh bell sounds alerted the medevac rescue team; within minutes they had checked Mammy’s medical insurance, took her pulse, re-checked her medical insurance and then placed her on the stretcher, loading her into the helicopter for a flight to a trauma unit in the Lehigh Valley. It appears that neither local hospital is equipped for boom-ba-related accidents. That is one reason for the increase in air medical transportation I suppose. Cass Township near Minersville will soon have its own Medevac heliport. There is another one at the Nativity practice field. I say the more the better; you never know when another boom-ba accident may occur. I am not sure where all the others helicopters are heading to; maybe Geisinger, University of Pennsylvania, Locust Mountain, Mountain Shadow, and the Skippack Doll Hospital, who knows for sure?
I had a lump in my throat when I watched Mammy take off. She had never flown before. The closest she got to flying was taking a ride once on the Satellite at Knoebel’s Grove. She did not like it. “Up, up and away she goes!” Mammy never got to see us waving the broken boom-ba and drumstick at her as she was strapped down, screaming as loud as she could in her thick Pennsylvania Dutch accent, “Dummkup! Put me down!” I got a rush listening to the sounds of the whooshing blades as they drowned her out. For a moment I actually felt that I was no longer in the center of Pottsville, but transformed to the set of the old MASH television show, imaging that Mammy was in good hands with the likes of Hawkeye, Trapper John and Hotlips Houlihan. In any event the next day Mammy was home in Pottsville with her foot in a cast, her boom-bas playing arm in a sling, and her pride bruised. I think medicare covered the flight expenses. We will wait and see. I heard that costs are well over $6,000 (lower if headed to the Skippack Doll Hospital, but she did not want to go there). We will have to take the boom-ba to the Centre Street pawnshop if the insurance doesn’t cough up. I’m not sure what we would get for it. Maybe George Blum knows. I will ask him and maybe I’ll give him first crack at auctioning it off. I also want to know if Pottsville gets a piece of the action in the form of occupational privilege taxes. If so, it will take away some of the pain.