Cinco de Mayo in Jalappa

¿Qué pasó? May 5th is Cinco de Mayo and I wouldn’t celebrate anywhere else but in Pottsville. I bet you did not know that the legendary General and Mexican Dictator, Santa Anna, was born in Jalappa (pronounced “Hha-lop-a”) in the northern part of present day Pottsville. He was born there in 1794. Look it up on Wikipedia if you don't believe me. Apparently, Jalappa enjoyed its own independence until 1806. That was the year Pottsville was discovered by John Pott and his band of Conquistadors, Maroons' offensive linesmen and volunteer firemen who quickly annexed iron-rich Jalappa. The natives surrendered without a fight, as they believed John Pott to be the second coming of Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent god. Boy, did they have it all wrong.
To put all of this into historical perspective for you, Necho Allen, discovered coal in 1790 when he fell asleep at the base of the Broad Mountain after a late night out after playing softball. I am not sure if the fire was started by a carelessly tossed cigarette or not, but when he awoke, anthracite had been ignited for the first time. By the end of the eighteenth century, coal furnaces were springing up all around Schuylkill County. Meanwhile young Santa Anna was swinging at a piñata in his backyard in Jalappa. This charming custom is still as popular today in the coal region as the Margarita. However, young Mister Anna soon got on his skateboard and left the area to further his education south of the border, as Jalappa Elementary was not opened until 1868. The rest is history.

I recently walked down Calle Del Agua (Water Street) but I could find no clues as to his exact birthplace. You think that the Historical Society would have a marker somewhere - a local native who becomes a world famous dictator deserves some recognition, for crying out loud! The AAA travel book indicates that Jalappa is noted as “a summer resort surrounded by beautiful mountains.” I can vouch for the correctness of that opinion and recommend it for a cheap get away in this period when a gallon of gas costs nearly 42 pesos.

Anyway, Jalappa keeps its most famous resident a secret. During my walk, I would stop people on the street and ask, “Estoy buscando el hogar de Santa Anna?” The typical response would be a simple stare, or else people would run away from me yelling, “Este hombre está loco!” Maybe my sombrero scared them, or they are just clueless. I did get to enjoy the centerpiece of this Jalappa Latin culture, which is, of course, the magnificant "Maria, Reina de la Paz" or "Mary Queen of Peace" Church. It is beautiful and well worth a stop on your next visit to Jalappa. It will close very shortly due to the pending Diocese Irishification policy, so you better hurry!
How on earth did this humble Jalappite (or Jalappino, as many of the residents prefer to be called) rise to power to rule the third largest nation in North America? Well, if you see the newest version of the Alamo movie, then you become enlightened. This latest version is much more hip than the old John Wayne version. It has Billy Bob Thornton as Jiminy Crockett, Jason Patric as David Bowie, Whitney Houston as the first female Texan Governor, old Senor Wences as himself, and Enrique Iglesias as Jalappa’s own badass, General Santa Anna. What more can I say? Better get out to West Coast or Hollywood video and rent it tonight. Pronto!

What about any other Spanish or Hispanic influences in the county? Jalappa certainly does not have a monopoly. Well, did you know that Palo Alto is Spanish for “High Wood?” This little Hispanic village, which recently celebrated its 150th anniversary, had been noted for its annual running of the pigs down the appropriately named Calle de Tocino (now anglicized to Bacon Street), but that sport has been replaced with the more terrifying sport of driving one’s car from West Bacon Street onto Route 61- South. Try it some time.

Another enclave is Sacramento, out in the west end. Then, of course, there is Shenandoah. This cosmopolitan metropolis has recently developed a distinct Latin flair. For instance, it is the birthplace of the world famous jalapeno pierogie. Acculturation at its best!

Adios Amigos. ¡Hasta que satisfacemos otra vez! Happy Cinco de Mayo.

Mount Laffee Eruption

I want to discuss the earth movements within the coal region. I am not talking about Sharp Mountain with its visible subsidence. Nor, am I talking about when frenetic polka dancing gets out of hand and the foot stomping creates those tremors that you feel beneath your feet. Forget it; I am not even talking about the vibrations along Market Street during Cruise Night. For Pete’s sake, I am talking about real-life earthquakes and lava spitting volcanoes, just like in the movies. You know, like that flic “Volcano” starring Tommy Lee Jones and Ann Heche that is on AMC every other week. I would pass on that one and recommend that you rent “Godzilla 1985” at West Coast that features the famed lizard king trapped within a volcano.

“When mankind falls into conflict with nature, monsters are born.”

That was the best line in the film and words to live by, even twenty years later. You may think I am joking, but earthquakes do happen in Pennsylvania. In 1954, over one million dollars in damage was caused in Wilkes-Barre by two nasty tremors. As for volcanoes, there are more than 500 in the world and Schuylkill County is home of the littlest one – yes, the runt of the world’s volcanic litter. Although it has been dormant for over one hundred years, the St. Clair area is the home of Mount Laffee – “the Vesuvius of Schuylkill County.”
To be precise, Laffee is located between Pottsville and St. Clair. No, I am not talking about the Fairlane Village Mall, although that is also located between Pottsville and St. Clair. It is safe to go there and shop without fear of lava spills. Speaking of the Mall, what the heck is a “Fairlane Village” anyway? “Fairlane” doesn’t even appear in my Dictionary. “Fairlane” was a 1960’s Ford muscle car, and it is obvious that the owners of the nearby Ford dealership, who owned the land that the Mall was built upon, picked the name to promote one of its best selling cars. The Mall was named to help promote sales of the Ford motor vehicles for crying out loud. Luckily for all of us that it was not called “Pinto Village.” Well, back to seismology.
The county’s volcanic explosion occurred on April 24, 1879. The day before gave little indication that Mount Laffee would finally erupt. People were going about their usual Schuylkill activities of funnel-cake making, cashing disability checks and purchasing lottery tickets. At about 1:30 on the afternoon of the 24th, there was a tremendous roar and a gargantuan column of flames with rocks, smoke and dust gushing from the summit of their beloved Broad Mountain. Historical records indicate that the explosion could be heard as far away as Pitman and Clamtown. Luckily the villagers were able to get out of the way of the cataclysmic blast, but the lush landscape never recaptured its beauty. Take a ride near Wadesville and you can see the devastation caused by Laffee’s fury. Strip mining had nothing to do with what you see; it can all be blamed on the volcano. If it were not for the volcano, the area would now be a forested paradise.
At first, the people living nearby obviously attributed this eruptive activity to the wrathful Pele, goddess of volcanoes. This was the most logical explanation at the time. However, the more educated people of Pottsville scoffed at this superstitious perception. After an emergency town meeting at the Majestic Theatre, the consensus was that the hot lava and clouds of dust came from the fire god, Vulcan, who lived somewhere in the fiery netherworld located between Gilberton and Mahanoy City. Suddenly, someone in the crowd got up and yelled, “The god had to be appeased and we must search for a virtuous woman right away!” Regardless of how expensive and time-consuming, many in the crowd agreed and headed to the door to commence the search. It was not until one brave Pottsville High science teacher stood up on the stage and made it publicly known that volcanic eruptions are not super-natural, but rather part of the earth’s digestive system; comparing it eating too much hot sausage and city chicken during the American Way Fair. He described in detail how these volcanoes are studied and interpreted by scientists. The unruly crowd was told that that Mahanoy City, despite its appearance, was not part of the netherworld, and that Vulcan wasn’t a god but only a Winter Carnival celebrity, so they should forget about their search for a virtuous woman in Pottsville.
And that’s the way it was back on April 24, 1879 – the day that Mount Laffee erupted.

New Year Baby Contest v Publisher's Clearing House

The thrill of participation in any event that awards prizes for minimal effort or achievement is exhilarating; that’s why my family loves contests. Mammy's favorite is the Publisher Clearing House Sweepstakes contest which she enters yearly. Every January, Mammy Trout will wait by the door hoping to greet Ed McMahon and grab the $10 million check. To no avail McMahon never appears and Mammy gets the blues.

Once the doorbell rang and Mammy transformed herself into Blanche DuBois from "A Streetcar Named Desire", muttering, with that gazed look, as she opened the door,

“Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

The beginning of April is the best time to enter the newspaper’s New Year Baby contest. You have a chance of winning many attractive prizes; Turtle Wax just for starters. OK, so it is not on the scale of Ed McMahon’s Clearing House extravaganza, but it is still a contest meant to be won. Mammy says that contest is just for kids and we should stick to the Publisher’s Clearing House one.
(AP Photo/Publishers Clearing House, Diane Bondareff)

She reminds me that nearly every year some teenage girl wins. You rarely see a teenage boy in the photograph with the winning baby, even though I think they get more practice time. By the time the winner is announced, many of the boys are out of the picture hooked up with someone else.
The paper insists that this isn’t just a contest just for teens, but odds do favor them. Mammy argues that it is not fair. She said she is too old and cannot compete in the contest anymore. Having an education or being in school doesn’t appear to give any contestant any advantage. Not many of the county champions had received their diploma. Mammy said she is sick of the New Year Baby Contest and will stick to the Publisher Clearing House contest. She feels lucky this year, that is why we have subscribed to dozens of magazines. Schuylkill Living, Guns and Ammo, Oprah, Wrestling World. You name it, and we get it.

If winning the New Year Baby Contest doesn’t require any intellectual ability, then what about physical ability? For the most part, the contest does appear to require some physical stamina. It is not an athletic endurance test although some have described it as such. There is no clock, time outs or uniforms to wear (or take off). Most of the contestants do practice together before the contest starts but that is optional. Some have won on the first try; sort of like those half-time hockey challenges where a member of the audience gets a chance to score to win a big prize.
If you are interested in entering the baby contest, then the beginning of April is the time to enter as New Year’s Day is less than nine months away. The paper’s rules state that you can play just about anywhere within Schuylkill County, inside or outside. Some contestants use their cars; maybe that is why they want that Turtle Wax! However a car or a driver’s license is unnecessary. In fact most of the winners would say they participated after school at home while the parents are out. Having a parent at home is sort of like a sand trap on a golf course. Mammy says that she is too tired to enter this contest. Her friends claim that it is difficult to get a partner interested anymore and it is no fun entering alone. I guess it is like football and pole vaulting, just for youngsters. Not many boomers play football or pole vault anymore. They just like to sit on their lazy boys and watch television.
Mammy refers to the contest as a Salute to Teen Pregnancy. She says that that it glamorizes teen pregnancy while downplaying its dangers, such as, low birth weight and prematurity, growing up without a father, a future in poverty, poor school performance, and possible abuse and neglect. I tell Mammy that she is just a sore loser. These so-called “dangers” have a silver lining. For starters, they increase the employment rate for social workers and help create a need for more public housing. I say that these young mothers and their kids are meal tickets for many seeking jobs around here. I say they deserve these accolades.

I say, “Let the games begin!”

But wait, I hear the doorbell. I gotta go. This time it really may be Ed McMahon with Mammy’s ten million dollar check.