Pocket Park

It will be several more weeks until the city of Pottsville unveils the name of its newest park located on North Centre Street across from the YMCA. Anticipation is building and already the city bookies are giving odds on some of the names in contention. I am not sure what all the criteria consists of for naming the park - now informally called Pocket Park. I sort of like the name Pocket Park and I would appreciate it if they just left the name alone. I have written a letter to the city requesting that it be officially be dedicated Pocket Park. However I was told that odds are one in three in favor of it being called El Parque de McGeever and two in six that it will be Barfield Park. Odds for it to remain Pocket Park are one in ten thousand. Not too good.

Parks don’t have to be named after people. Think about Central Park, Jellstone Park, the Boston Commons, Jurassic Park, Washington’s National Mall, Itchycoo Park or San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. Pottsville can have its Pocket Park. I think there was a clown from the area called Pockets, so maybe he can honored if a person has to be honored. This way the name can remain the same but I don't think it is necessary.

Someone told me that what the city officials are generally looking for is a person. Not just any old person; preferably a living person, a friend, who is in need of an ego boost; if not, one that was recently living and who would still appreciate an ego boost posthumously. Personally I am against naming any public property after a living person or a recently departed person but I am in the minority.

The person to be honored must definitely be a man of course. Preferably a good old boy. Nothing in the city has ever been named after a woman and rightfully so. This policy stems, not from Sharia Law or Eve tempting Adam, but from the incident in 1807 when Maria Pott, the wife of city founder, John Pott, refused to attend the first American Way Fair with her husband. She said she hated the rides and she hated funnel cake even more. The chief burgess was so incensed that he introduced an ordinance banning the naming of any public property after any female from that day forward. The ordinance remains on the books today. Just like the ordinance that bans electronic billboards within the city. Look around and try to find anything named after a woman or try to find an electric billboard. You won’t find any and you never will. In a local hospital you will find a room named after Judge McCloskey and all our elementary school is named after John S. Clarke, who ran a garage I believe, but nothing after any women, even though most of hospitals and schools were staffed by women over the years. It’s forbidden to name anything after a woman other than a hurricane and the city is very strict on enforcing its ordinances. If the ordinance was repealed, Amanda Silliman would be a great example of a woman to be honored. She heroically assisted in giving aid to wounded civil war soldiers and at times risked her own life doing so. It is the 150th anniversary of the civil war and an appropriate time to honor her. She was also the first principal of the female grammar school on Centre Street. She is ineligible though because of Maria Potts' refusal to go to that fair that one partly cloudy day in May 1807 because she hated the horse-drawn tilt-a-whirl.

I was thinking that the Going My Way Bar that once graced the location of the park and featured some of the city’s first go-go girls. Top notch entertainment. These were female dancers who danced to vinyl records -predecessors to today's pole dancers - and they were trend setters in fashion; most of what is taken for granted today for normal female attire among the young ( and even not so young) stems from these go-go girls. I was planning to write a letter in support of one of my favorite dancers at the Going My Way, who really shook the floor when she danced to the Stones’ “Brown Sugar.” Maybe the park could be named after her. It’s a pity that ordinance remains on the books. Blame it on Maria Potts and her distaste for funnel cake.

I was told that there is one in ten odds in favor of “Justice Charles Moran Park” but while his credentials are very strong, it must be ruled out as his district did not encompass North Centre Street. Another Park will have to be built in the Yorkville Section for that to happen. Where is revenue sharing when we need it?

Someone said, “why not name it after a person of some national recognition?” To them I say why don’t you build your own park then. General Joulwan has his park and he is nationally known. That is enough for this city to handle. Anyway can you name any other person of national prominence from Pottsville? And don’t be bringing up some civil war generals or city founders as the criterion requires that the man must have lived in the period from 1960 to the present, and preferably a member of the Hibernians (while not absolutely necessary it sure does help). There is no one I can think of. Anyway, nothing of importance happened around here before 1960. It was a depressing time around here. Section 8 hadn't yet been invented. I think Section 2 1/2 was in effect. It was a time that people swept their sidewalks and took pride in their own property; these people were neighborly, and like me, frequented the downtown bookies to purchase their daily number tickets while shopping at the dazzling amount of busy stores, rather than sitting in front of computers to do on-line gambling and shopping. A sickening time indeed.

I got a great idea. I was thinking of that Rocking Horse Charles fellow that used to grace Centre Street. It was during an era when our charismatic street people were known to us on a first name basis. Rocking Horse Park has a ring to it. In fact I like it more than Pocket Park. I think I will write another letter to City Hall and suggest Rocking Horse Park. He was a man (not necessarily a Hibernian, but don't hold that against him) who had no national claim-to-fame but who certainly would appreciate an ego boost.

The Rise and Fall of the Going My Way

“Say it ain't so Mike.”





That was my thought when I read the news that the city of Pottsville is planning to demolish 521 North Centre Street, the home of the legendary "Going My Way Bar." From the standpoint of historic preservation it will be one of the largest cultural disasters in the history of Pottsville. Some say that it will surpass the destruction of The Academy of Music, The Hippodrome and The Capitol Theatre all rolled into one. While I wouldn’t go that far, I do know many have fond memories of the G.M.W. and wish it would reopen.



To further investigage I went down to the Historical Society and read up on their impressive collection of the history of the go go movement in the county. I then walked around Centre Street and interviewed dozens of pedestrians, getting their comments on this crisis:

"I'm speechless."


These are the words of one old lounge lizard who frequented the bar which featured semi-clad or topless dancers during Pottsville's swinging '70s. Incidentally, he was still dressed in his finest polyester leisure suit at the time of this interview.

"bummer, man."


One aging baby boomer lamented that he had fond memories of listening to “Brown Sugar” and “Black Magic Woman” on the juke box while enjoying the talented dancers after his return from ‘Nam. He remembered that the place had a german shepard behind the bar. Pottsville's own canine bouncer.

“I think that the we should band together and try and renovate it."

Yes many do-gooders walking north on Centre Street, linking arms and singing Kumbaya, stopped and told me that we need another Sovereign Majestic-type fundraiser to preserve this part of the city’s go go history. Where is PADCO when you need it?

"It was my sanctuary from all of the turmoil in my house.”
These words were repeated over and over again when I interviewed random husbands.

“Saw it seven times when it played at the Hollywood. I took me mother. God bless her soul."



Apparently this gentleman got the question confused and thought I was asking about the Bing Crosby movie, "Going My Way" of 1944 where Bing ,playing the role of Father O’Malley, sang, “Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra.” The juke box at the G.M.W., fortunately, did not carry that Irish lullaby. "Brown Sugar" but not "Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra."

“There is something un-patriotic about an exotic dancer wearing anything… anything made in China.”
Many of the city labor leaders are still nostalgic and weepy eyed, not only over the loss of the NFL title in 1925, but also over the loss of the garment industry in Pottsville. The whole United States for that mattter. They reminisced about a time when clothing, even skimpy, skanky attire, was made locally. Now all of these hot pants and other trashy clothes are made overseas and shipped to America for our young, teenage girls to buy.

"The loss of both the occupational privilege taxes paid by the dancers and the city business privilege taxes was devastating to the city. "
Those were the words of many who watch over the city coffers.

“I remember seeing my first pole dancer there.”
Was her name Rita Pisarcik? Was she from New Minersville or Girardville? He wasn't sure. Neither am I. Farewell "Going My Way." Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra.

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