Highs and Lows

I just found out that the Mile High Club is a term applied to individuals who engaged in hanky panky while on board an airplane in flight. I thought it was an actual club, with dues to pay and a membership card to carry. Was I wrong! Mammy and I wanted to become members when we went to the Joe Zerbey International Airport to take the fall foliage tour over the county three years ago. We went on the cheaper flight which also featured dust cropping over the Hegins Valley. When we got off the plane we were so proud that we would become members of such a prestigious group, as we needed to have some club to be mentioned in our obituaries when the time came for that.
But we were flabbergasted that there was no ceremony for us when we alighted from the aircraft. No fan fare whatsoever, just yawns and strange looks. I remember getting a hole in one at Heisler’s golf course and receiving great adulation from the crowd, and everyone hooping and hollering, and me buying milk shakes for everyone. There was none of that getting off the plane; just the stewardess calling for some disinfectant spray. Later in the Joe Zerbey International Airport cocktail lounge, we found out that the Mile High Club is so passé, so utterly '70s. In fact nearly everyone on the fall foliage flight boasted of being members of the club -even those who flew alone.
I did some research and discovered that there is no formally constituted Mile High Club, so membership is in the eye of the beholder. It is not like the Moose, Elks, Masons, Eagles, Hibernians or Illuminati by any means. I know as I am a member of all of the foregoing. I remember joining the Pottsville Moose Lodge decades ago when it was located on South Centre Street. The building is now a bank located across the street from one of Pottsville’s finest parking lots. Yes, I remember the Grand High Exalted Bull Moose Leader blindfolding me and making me walk barefoot on egg shells before I could become a member. Afterwards I was given the official Moose double-breasted jacket and given the official club greeting which was a handshake involving touching elbows (first right, then left). None of that occurred with the Mile High Club. It was a real disappointment. Even when Mammy was initiated as a Vulcanette in the Pottsville Winter Carnival she got a nifty uniform and a button to wear.
Some people attribute the allure of the Mile High Club to the lower atmospheric pressure. Others boast that the vibration of the plane intensifies the experience. Still others the mystique is the thrill of doing something taboo and the risk of being discovered. I think it’s the latter; it is similar to leaving your cell phone turned on (with an obnoxious ringtone waiting to blast some insipid hip hop song) while standing in a county courtroom waiting to have your ARD approved. Or sneaking in line at the bleenie stand.
In any event Mammy and I heard rumors that there was a Mile Low Club at the Pioneer Tunnel in Ashland. So, once again we thought we would give it a try. We paid the nine dollar admission - despite our attempts to get it lowered by flashing our AARP and AAA cards. Again, we faced disappointment. No discounts for us. Once inside Mammy began complaining that the tunnel was too cold and the coal car too bumpy. I complained about all of the cub scouts and brownies that were traveling with us. I ended up giving her my double-breasted Moose jacket that I was wearing, just too keep her warm. When we left the tunnel, we headed to the Ashland High Uppers Park, and like a couple of kids we unfolded the Moose jacket and used it as a picnic blanket, sprawled out, and finished off a six pack of Pepper’s Ginger Ale and ate some ring bologna before heading home.

It was a great day to be alive, club or no club.

this is my 100th blog!

Ashland's mother monument

Dear Mr. trout,

Was the statue of the Girardville Pirate Lady the most talked about monument in the county’s history?

Geraldine

Dear Geraldine:

Indeed not. Many would recall the day the Pomeroy’s mannequin was passed off as a statue of a native American woman; installed at the front of Lake Wynonah with all the bru-ha-ha following. But that is nothing compared the mother of all monuments in Ashland.
That monument was planned and erected during the depression that began in 1929 and, to some, continues in Schuylkill County to this very day.

What a controversy!
Reading the Ashland Daily News, it appears that there was confusion over what type of monument to erect honoring motherhood. Many believed that the appropriate image would a reproduction of the statue depicting the twins Romulus and Remus being nursed by the she-wolf. “It would be a slam dunk.” Or so they thought. However after heated argument, that proposal was stunningly voted down in Committee 8-5. Some say the vote was meant to to embarrass Benito Mussolini who had just invaded Abyssinia.

Others wanted a monument of Al Jolson on his bended knee singing “Mammy” with a loudspeaker blaring the song 24/7.Luckily that was rejected 4-9.





The Committee sincerely wanted something that had not been done anywhere in the country so the first rendition of the monument depicting Whistler’s Mother was to be called, “the two mothers monument." It was hoped to capture the imagination of all of the 48 states, as well as the district of columbia. However because of a limited budget, this proposal was withdrawn and the Committee went with the traditional Whistler’s only one Mother. I was able to procure a rare photograph of the rejected “two mothers monument" proposal which I am sharing exclusively with the readers of the blog. Here it is:

As a local woman would be selected to depict the virtues of motherhood, women came from both sides of Ashland - the high side and the low side of town- for the modeling audition. It was during the bleak days of the 1930s, and most townswomen were out of work, so you can imagine this auditioning drew a huge crowd of model wanna-bes. The try-outs became a cross between America’s Next Top Model and Star Search.
You cannot imagine how intense the competition got. Some spent the little money they had a cosmetic make-overs. Many other women would practice for the role by sitting quietly for hours, to the delight of many of husbands.

Later the competition got very rough and dirty. In fact, the winner had been attacked by a rival, who struck her in the legs with a coal shovel, requiring the winner to wear the long dress to cover-up the bruises. This physical attack is thought to be the reason the statue does not depict a smiling, happy mother.
Many of the contestants were over 70 and were disqualified because the Committee was interested in a more youthful mother figure, and these older women were discretely informed to apply to the Whistler’s Grandmother Competition which was scheduled to be held in nearby Centralia but later cancelled due to the outbreak of World War II.

Others were disqualified because they were too heavy. This had many of the contestants jogging and running up Center Street trying to shed some pounds before the all important weigh-in, as it had been unanimously decided that the winner would have to resemble the svelte figure in the “Whistler’s Mother” painting. These rejected contestants were discretely given an opportunity to audition for the "Whistler’s Portly Aunt Competition" which was to be scheduled in Shenandoah, but cancelled due to the outbreak of World War II. Apparently Whistler had a gold mine going with his franchise.
The statue was finally unveiled on September 4, 1938 during a gigantic Tupperware Party held in the borough. This celebration has has been held yearly thereafter in honor of mothers throughout the county; with Ashland mothers exchanging left-over chow-chow with the many out-of-town visitors in the new fandangled plastic containers while the men drinking Pepper's Ginger Ale to their hearts content.