Courthouse bans smoking

May 31st is the anniversary of the Johnstown flood, a sad day in Pennsylvania’s history. This May 31st will be another sad day. It will be the day the last tobacco product is inhaled in the Schuylkill County Courthouse.

By edict of the County Commissioners, the legendary “Canteen,”the bistro located in the Courthouse basement, will no longer permit its patrons to light up. A rich chapter of tobacco usage will be closing.

Smoking had been a part of our county’s history. It was said that John Pott actually purchased the land the Courthouse sits on from the Lenni Lenape Indians for a carton of Camels, a box of Mootz peanut rolls, and a six-pack of Yuengling’s. After checking the old court manuscripts at the Historical Society, I discovered that smoking had been permitted everywhere in the Courthouse for decades. In fact it was once a job requirement; more important than say, punctuality or telephone manners. If an employee did not smoke, the likelihood of being fired increased.

There is something untrustworthy about “goody two-shoes” non-smokers.

To commemorate the unhappy occasion on May 31st, there will be a special celebration in the Courthouse with festivities beginning at 9 o’clock and continuing until closing time. For some it will take the form of dressing up as one’s favorite smoker – Marlene Dietrich, Humphrey Bogart, Bette Davis, Cheech, Mae West, Chong, Franklin Roosevelt, Popeye and Keith Richards, just to name a few. Some costumes will be more comical, Joe Camel, The Marlboro Man, Cruella De Vil, and "the Cigarette Smoking Man" from the old TV show, X-Files, will certainly be welcomed additions to bring some levity to the end of an era. I understand that several office clerks will be dressing up as “The Old Gold” dancing cigarette packs. It is this attitude of facing a crisis with a smile on one’s face that makes me proud of this County.

The row offices are not alone. While many of the row employees will wear smoking jackets and fezs, I was told that the court crier emeritus will don a bellhop uniform and “Call for Philip Morrr-issssssss!” one last time in Courtroom Number One at the stroke of four.

No, it will not just be another costume party in the Court House. There will be lots of games. Bets will be placed on who will win the ‘smoke ring’ contest. Then there is the “Who will be the employee to blow the most smoke rings with one breathe?” Your guess is as good as mine. Then there is the sophisticated “French inhale” competition scheduled for three o’clock. If you are not familiar with this European game, a contestant takes a good-sized drag from a cigarette, but instead of inhaling, the smoke is gently pushed up into the nostrils. It has been a ritual at the Courthouse since the Molly Maguire hangings. For those who want something less intense, I recommend both the “multiple cigarettes” smoking contest, as well as the “puffing and dragging” competition which pits title searchers against the Courthouse retirees.
Yes, the identity of the last person to puff away is being held confidential. You can compare it to the opening ceremony at the Schuylkill County Senior Olympics, when some top secret octogenarian gets to light the cauldron to the amazement of the crowds.

I will be there in the Canteen filled with the usual crowd, my eyes filled with tears that are held back in the sad revelry, knowing that the good times are coming to an end.

I have a guess as to who will get to savor the last puff before the Sheriff Department clears out the Canteen and hands out Black Jack chewing gum, as if that will pacify the mob. When the partying ends at 4:30 PM I will look through the thick cloud of smoke hovering over the Canteen, at the men and women holding onto their cigarette lighters, holders, ash trays, corn cob pipes, cigars, hookahs, and bongs knowing that once the last butt is stomped out, the courthouse employees may have cleaner lungs but they will also become more irritable, cranky, depressed and edgy, while gaining weight at an astounding rate.

A brave new world indeed.

Why we honor Henry Clay

Casinos have finally come to our state.

It is just too bad that Pottsville doesn’t get a piece of the action, as the city has a long love affair with gambling, legal and illegal.

We all have fond remembrance of lotteries, chances, and the slots of years ago. Does anyone remember that in the 1960s and 1970s the city’s downtown had several stores selling only a few items, generally one box of Corn Flakes and a few packs of Black Jack chewing gum? That marketing technique defied all rules of business investments. It was an example of pure micro-economics - more basic than a child’s lemonade stand. It turned my notion of “supply and demand” inside out. Any business built around a single box of Corn Flakes should fold in a matter of days, if not hours, especially if your employee did not yet have breakfast. However, these City stores were successful. What would Adam Smith, of laissez faire capitalism fame, say? Surely, Mr. Smith would be smart enough to figure out that gambling was the draw - not the merchandise. But it took me a few years to figure this out. Why, the box of Corn Flakes in the window was merely a front! Boy, was I duped! People wanted to place a bet, not buy stale Corn Flakes or Black Jack gum.
Historians believe that the local passion for gambling went much further back in time than the 1930s when Minersville Street was flourishing. In fact, the early Native American settlements near the Gordon Nagle Trail bear this out. When the Pottsville Soccer fields were built, uncovered remnants of primitive Leni Lenape high stakes bingo halls were found. The Lenapes did not call it “Bingo” back then, but rather “Mahantongo.” The game took much longer and it's popularity faded due to the difficulty of having the duplicate letters a and o on the playing card.

Then came the era of the Schuylkill Canal. I understand gambling proliferated up and down the River and the canal beds during the mid- 1800s. The riverboats offered its passengers elegant accommodations along with many amenities. By day or night there was always some card or roulette game going on in the Upper Deck Saloon or in the Paddlewheel Lounge. For the non-gamblers, the Canal boats offered the usual shore excursions to Port Clinton, dazzling nightlife, reggae bands and, of course, the midnight buffets.

But Pottsville now deserves a legit gambling house because our county seat is the only metropolis having a statue in honor the inventor of Poker. Yes, I am referring to the famous poker card game immortalized by Kenny Rogers in his dreadful song, “The Gambler.” Yes, Henry Clay invented the game of poker as he loved gambling. During the presidential election of 1832 a newspaper wrote that, “Henry Clay spends his days at the gaming tables and his nights in a brothel.” His gambling and drinking made him as famous as did his oratorical skills. Despite once reportedly losing sixty thousand dollars during one card game, most of the time Henry Clay was a winner. This is why Pottsville honors him.
Very few youngsters recognize the identity of the statue that overlooks the downtown. In fact, a majority of high school students recently surveyed assumed the statue to be a likeness of Clay Aiken, the American Idol runner-up. Unbelievable! Nearly all of the high school seniors referred to the statesman as “Henry Dice Clay” or “the Diceman.” What is going on in our schools today! I thought no child was going to be left behind.

Henry Clay was one sharp poker player; having adapted the card game from its European forerunner, Pochen. He is not the Andrew Clay Silverstein that told off color jokes and appeared in such films as The Adventures of Ford Fairlaine, which is now playing at the Majestic Theatre. And he is not the Clay that was beaten by Reuben Studdards on American Idol. He is the card shark “Henry Clay,” former Speaker of the House of Representatives.
Every time I drive on South Centre Street towards Henry Clay Park (the steepest park in the world) I look up and admire the man who is holding a royal flush in his right hand. So, the next time you drive downtown to buy Corn Flakes, take a closer look and see the royal flush for yourself. After that, write to the Governor and politely request a piece of the action for dear, old Pottsville, the city that honors the Inventor of Poker.