Ein Sommer der Liebe 2004

Article originally printed in May 2004. I attended two Bavarian Festivals and I have fond memories.

This summer of 2004 marks the thirtieth anniversary of one of the greatest events in Schuylkill County history. Many of us will gather together to commemorate what has become known as “the summer of love.” That is when over 418,000 bedraggled fans of German food and music descended on a little known area referred to as Barnesville and entered the gates to consume tons of schnitzel and barrels of brew. Most of these participants were escaping from the Rest Haven scandal that had erupted and which destroyed what little confidence that the people had in the ruling oligarchy.
It was billed as seventeen days of “frieden und liebe” and it lived up to its name. As Mammy Trout said, “It was the best of times and the wurst of times.” The amount of food devoured that summer baffled gastroenterologists at the Good Samaritan Hospital. The staggering quantity of beer and cabbage consumed in such a short amount of time has never been surpassed to this day, despite many numerous attempts.
Word of the festival spread throughout the county and a massive traffic jam formed on Route 54. When I heard about it, I quickly shoved my lederhosen in my knapsack, grabbed my sleeping bag and hitched a ride over to Barnesville. It didn’t take long before I got a lift in a bus that was carrying the Stadkappelle Marching Band. What a trip!
Many of the people who tell you that they were at Bavarian Festival ’74 are just plain liars. I was one of the lucky ones who were there for the duration. I remember the rain, the mud, the frauleins and the strudel. You are fortunate that I have a memory like an elephant. I actually rubbed elbows with scientist Werner Von Braun, Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, UN Secretary Kurt Waldheim, composer Oscar Hammerstein, and Grace Kelly in the main beer hall. I remember watching the elegant Princess of Monaco do the “chicken dance” with Secretary of State Kissinger, while Waldheim balanced a huge stack of beer cups in one hand. I also remember one long table being converted into a “slip and slide” with all of them taking turns diving down the table head first, accompanied by the song 99 Luftballoons.
The festival lasted for seventeen days and nights and the music was groovy. The Rhinelanders, The Heimtklaenge Band, and The Walter Groller Orchestra were just a few of the big names that played there. I was utterly astounded by the power, talent and magic of “The Mischief Makers” as they wandered throughout the fair grounds, captivating everyone with their dazzling oomp-pah music. This german drinking music was hard edged, boisterous, raucous, and almost religious in its fervor. Beer hall culture requires you to slam your mugs first on the table, then against other mugs. A lot of noise and a little spilled beer is the way to show your spirit. All of the while, the sweet scent of sauerkraut was everywhere. Over the loudspeaker, announcements about bad pepper cabbage could be heard. And then there were the fun-loving frauleins. I will always have fond memories of Ulrika, who became my festival soul mate, after serving me a plate of hot potato salad in the main beer hall. She remained my “old lady” for seventeen days. Thanks for the memories Ulrika!
For one brief shining moment, a dream was released across Schuylkill County. Mammy swore that it was a dawning of a new age. She is upset that many young people have no knowledge of this event. The phrase, ein sommer der liebe, has special meaning to those who attended the festival that year. To Mammy it was a gathering of the tribes. They came from all over, Hegins, Sacramento, Pine Grove, and Hecla. Everyone dressed in quaint clothing. Men were in bundhosen and vests, and the women wore colorful dirndls and blouses.
While the music heard at that festival is legendary, the debate about its historical significance still rages today. True believers still call Bavarian Festival ’74 the capstone of an era devoted to human advancement. Cynics say it was a ridiculous excess of gemütlichkeit, whatever the heck that means. Then there are those of us, me included, that say it was just one hell of a party. However no one should consume so much kraut and ale in such a short time span! The Festival, like only a handful of other historical events, has become a part of the cultural lexicon of Schuylkill County. As the Rest Haven Scandal and Sportsmen’s Complex are code words for corruption, “Bavarian Festival ’74” has become an instant adjective denoting Teutonic hedonism. Kermit Deitrick, who created the Festival, as well as its well-known logo of a pigeon perched on a tuba, described it this way, “something was tapped, a nerve, in this county. Everyone just came and ate kraut and drank beer. It was seventeen days of peace and music. It was far-out, man. It was groovy.”

Solution for Pottsville's Nuisance taxes

With the financial crunch being felt by the City of Pottsville, I think it is time for an overhaul of the nuisance taxes. Currently we have two major nuisance taxes: The occupation privilege and the per capita taxes.
I would replace both with a weight tax. Obesity is now a major health concern nationally. Pottsville is not immune from this scourge. The Warne Clinic has disclosed some revealing statistics concerning the average Pottsvillian. For instance, a large segment of the populace has blood/gravy readings of .10 or over. That is alarming. Also the average Pottsvillian will eat his or her weight in Mootz’ peanut rolls, and within five years. This is appalling. If this trend continues, the peanut will become extinct. The prestigious scientific report goes on to reveal that 15% of the residents have buttocks the size of the Route 61 Indian head. This may be unbelievable to you, but not to me. Remember that statistics do not lie. That is why my weight tax would hopefully reverse this trend. While there have been some encouraging developments, things are slowly getting worse. Yes, consumption of Crisco as a snack food has decreased significantly but this is not enough.
Sadly, at the Middle School, more children are able to identify General Tso than General George Joulwan. Apparently Chinese chicken means more to them than local home town pride. This should not be. The Joint Veterans Council should tackle this problem immediately. Incidentally, the initials “H.H.” in the Lengel school name do not stand for “Hamburger Helper.” It is sad that these kids can identify the Pillsbury Doughboy over world leaders such as North Korean Kim Jong-Il. What is wrong? I thought no child was going to be left behind. The problem is not confined to the school building. The main, after-school recreation for our youngsters appears to be re-winding their videotapes. This is not enough. It wasn’t always this way. Years ago Pottsville was filled with energetic skateboarders and cyclists. However due to complaints from people carrying their take-out pizzas, skateboarding and bicycling have been banned throughout the city to avoid the pepperonis from falling off the pie. This could be easily remedied by adding extra cheese. Even at the pre-school age level, it is not right that the library’s reading hour features ‘children’s menus’ rather than Doctor Seuss. What signals are we sending to these plump little children? The warning signs do not stop there. For instance, the local accountants have also complained that many residents are getting away with claiming two exemptions for having double chins. The last straw, I believe, is that there appears to be a clamoring for our churches to develop “supersize” communion wafers. Where do we draw the line? When do we say enough is enough?
That is why my weight tax would serve a duel purpose. With the nuisance tax being directly linked to one’s body mass, more people would try to slim down - at least at tax time. Simultaneously, the city’s coffers would be burst like Roseann Barr getting into a pair of jeans. The city would awash with the extra revenue that these extra pounds would generate.
Of course, there would be kinks in my new tax program that would need to be worked out. First of all, we could not allow individuals to list their weight. Why? Because people lie. That is why we have locally elected assessors. Did you ever go into the polling booth and look at the ballot and see the office, “assessor,” and wonder what the hell these people assess? With my new tax, you will finally get an answer. They will be able to get up off their behinds to assess behinds. To get things done properly, the city will have to invest in a new scale. The present one that gives your weight along with a fortune for only a nickel is outdated.
Secondly, the appraising would have to be done at a public area to avoid any false accusations against the assessors. A good location would be Martz Hall. I would not use ordinary bathroom scales. No, the scales that I envision would project the weight figure high up on the wall, similar to a bowling score, for everyone to see. The City treasurer’s office would then mark down all of the results. If the assessor guessed the weight correctly, the citizen would win a small prize, such as a stuffed animal. This would encourage compliance as most people enjoy winning things. The animals could be stuffed with breadcrumbs or candy to get compliance up to near 100%. The amount of tax that you would pay would be determined on how much overweight you were. It is that simple. It is that fair. Taxes do not have to be complicated if you simply use common sense. Excuse me. I have stop now, I just had a Big Mac attack.