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 However because of a limited budget, this proposal was withdrawn and the Committee went with the traditional Whistler’s only one Mother.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.

another pirate story

Dear Mr. trout:

In your last rant you omitted any mention of pirates “north of the mountain.” Did piracy stop at the south end of the Broad Mountain?
Your loyal follower,
Jim Hawkins

Dear Mr. Hawkins:
You are correct and I apologize. Yes, there once was a nameless, shameless woman that lived on a houseboat, floating on the Girardville Creek; she was one of the biggest pirates of our time; this being the late 1990s and early 2000s. This lady pirate did extensive illegal downloading and file- sharing and was well known within the Napster, Limewire, and Kaaza circuits. The genres she looted included big band, World music (polkas), and folk. The latter category was devoted only to the Pottsville Barbershoppers. Anyone who tried to tell her that the Barbershoppers were not folk singers ended up floating facedown in da crick.
Her MP3 player was loaded with vast array of Dorsey Brothers, Les Brown, Jolly Jack Robel and even Little Andy tunes; every song stolen away, with not one cent of royalty going to the songwriters or musicians. Yes, some nationally known music was illegally downloaded, primarily Captain Beefheart, but she focused on the local music scene, becoming a legend north of the Broad, sharing her ill-gotten music files with hundreds that lived in the Upper Schuylkill Region.
She later started pirating the likeness of celebrities, imprinting cheap tee shirts to be sold at Hometown and Renninger’s Markets. Her luck ran out when she became bold enough to steal the likeness of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. which rattled his children’s family to no end.
Very few people are aware that Dr. King remains one of the wealthiest dead celebrities, following in the ghostly footsteps of Elvis and Marilyn, with his grabby children extracting millions of dollars for the use of the MLK image and words. In fact, the King family had just recently extracted about $800,000 for allowing a statue of Dr. King to be erected in Washington.
Our local pirate lady took on Dexter, Martin III and Bernice King and lost the battle. It was one local pirate versus the more sophisticated, well-heeled pirates. I was told that the Kings even had Dream City, located between Port Carbon and Cumbola, shut down; arguing that the name “Dream” was a copyright infringement. Go to Renninger’s Market or the Hometown Market today and you no longer find any bootleg tee shirts featuring Dr. King.
Despite her defeat, our pirate remains an archetypal figure in Schuylkill County folklore and remains significant in popular local culture where she is known for "stealing from the rich record companies and giving music to our lazy, self indulgent teenagers."
When I was a youngster I had to work countless hours hauling coal ash just to scrape enough money together to purchase the latest Jordan Brothers 45 RPM.
To this day the Schuylkill County Government does not recognize January 15th as Dr. King Day as a holiday, hoping not to offend local supporters of the Girardville Pirate. Quietly, within the courthouse, Captain Beefheart Day is celebrated in its place.

Not to be forgotten, our female pirate was immortalized in Girardville with a controversial statue. The artist took some liberties with her likeness pandering to both the health conscious and the disability crowds. I understand that some purists picketed the statue wanting the original likeness to be restored but they were outvoted in the special referendum that was recently held.

original likeness of

Girardville pirate lady

Postscript: this story was inspired by reading the following story on the King family: Lessons seem to be lost.

the Schuylkill Rangers

I too have been caught up with all of the pirate news. Most of you, however, are unaware of the pirates that roamed the Schuylkill River years ago. Yes, the Pennsylvania canals were just as infested by pirates as the coast of Somalia is today. Unlike the fast moving cargo ships that can outrun an invader, lumbering canalboats practically invited invasion by these cutthroat buccaneers.
Canallers were at the mercy of the shallow-water pirates. To reach their destination with cargoes intact, the honest boatmen had to be prepared to fight against river pirates, such as the Schuylkill Rangers who travelled up and down the Schuylkill attacking the innocent and the defenseless (but not necessarily in that order).

So bold did these Rangers become that they once attempted to take possession of Schuylkill Haven, a thriving, bustling town along the Canal.

Arrr! me hearty! I heard stories about that episode, when the pirates landed during a Burro Day celebration in a late September, frightening the local wenches by upending the numerous displays of crochet dolls and knick-knacks that were for sale along East Main Street, and taking their plunder, without paying, to their docked ship, “The Rattlesnake” along with several of the town’s favorite geese.
Luckily for the townspeople that before more destruction and mayhem occurred, the pirates boarded their ship and headed north to Cressona where more action occurred at the local “Long John Silver’s” near Connor’s Crossing.
Soon after devouring buckets of fish nuggets the scalawags headed to the Cressona Mall. The pirate captain was a great, massive-shouldered fellow with a big red beard, a peg leg, a crutch, an eye-patch, a nicotine patch, and a brass hook at the end of his left arm. He led his band of men into the Mall to distribute their home-made Boz Scaggs pieces of eight-tracks to unsuspecting landbubbers, as well as dozens of their copyright-infringed Doobie Brothers eight-tracks. With their ill-gotten gains from customers looking for bargains, they all went to Cinema 61 and watched an Arrr-rated movie before boarding “The Rattlesnake” continuing their northward journey to port of Pottsville.
The Captain made sure that “The Rattlesnake” would not have to fend off the yellow plastic ducks that once had almost overcome the ship during an unsuspected UCP duck race. The bright, starry night gave the crew the night vision necessary to complete their journey and avoid any plastic duck attack. Despite some grumblings from some of the crew that wanted to drop anchor near the Dusselfink, to hook-up with some native women, the captain had the ship sail northward with his goal the distribution of a countless number of bootlegged and illegal eight tracks, as well as the plundering and ransacking of Goldie’s Store on Centre Street.
“Ahoy there Mady’s!”
From up in the crow’s nest, the look-out spotted the legendary car wash at the southern end of the city. Pottsville would soon be within their grasp!
The original Transportation Inter-modal Terminal in Pottsville had a port that allowed “The Rattlesnake” to dock along side the East Penn busses.

The City had been alerted and was waiting for the Pirates. The Mayor had mobilized the entire city police force, the Greenwood Hill Fire Department, school crossing guards, meter maids,Winter Carnival Vulcans and Vunlcanettes and even three nuns from Nativity High School.
The fiercest naval battle in the History of Pottsville ensued and the pirates were driven back down the Schuylkill never to return. Thankfully the pirated Doobie Brothers and Boz Scaggs eight tracks never made it to shore.

Piracy would not be a problem in Pottsville for many years to come - until the piracy of pay television began with the arrival of illegal decoder set-top boxes, all sent to the area to satisfy the huge demand for WrestleMania.

Easter Egg Roll

I woke up with great anticipation. It was Easter and time for the downtown Egg Roll. Yes, Mammy put on her finest bonnet, while I put on my finest John Deere cap, and we headed down to center city Pottsville for the time honored tradition of dining at the local Chinese Restaurant for an “all you can eat buffet” and pig out on egg rolls. After the appetite stimulating Easter Parade, of course.
I remember when Chinese food came to Pottsville. It was in the early 1970s, when both Mao on the mainland and the Mayor of Pottsville declared a “Great Leap Forward” for their people. In Pottsville that meant a massive sidewalk expansion project. But to widen sidewalks or just to leap in any direction required food. The Mayor and the Chinese quickly signed a trade agreement.
We would get Chinese food and they would get Ying Ling beer.
Wonton Soup arrived first. The tanker docked along the River in Mount Carbon and the Cantonese dumplings were rapidly taken by truck to “The House of China” which had just opened at the corner of Third and West Market Street to the awaiting festive crowd that was serenaded by the Third Brigade Band's rousing rendition of “Everybody is Kung Fu Fighting.”

You have to remember; back in the 1970s the main foods consumed in Pottsville were Coney Island hamburgers (with the chili sauce), pepperoni pizza, firehouse mackerel (for breakfast of course) and Mootz peanut rolls. The most foreign food to enter the city was the bleenie, which was eaten only after a large consumption of lager ale while at a block party. Generally the person eating the bleenie would not even realize what he or she had eaten until the following morning. The Mayor wanted Pottsville to become a more cosmopolitan and worldly city and he thought the introduction of foreign foods would speed up this process.
After several weeks the populace got acclimated to the Wonton soup, even though some thought they were consuming soggy pierogies. Next, sweet pork was slowly initiated, to be then followed by sour pork.
When the sour pork was introduced, it lead to heated arguments. The fighting lasted for days. Which was tastier – the sweet or the sour? To settle the feud, the Director of the Pottsville Incubator was summoned and with a massive infusion of federal Revenue Sharing dollars, “sweet and sour pork” was created.

The standoff was ended.
Skeptics wondered how pork could be simultaneously sweet and sour, but thanks to the Incubator Project, what was once considered impossible became a reality. Future generations of diners would enjoy the diametrically opposed flavors simultaneously.
To commemorate the occasion, the Pottsville Incubator Building boasts a historical marker, proclaiming to be the birthplace of Sweet and Sour Pork.

That brings me back to the Egg Roll.
I had long been a fan of foreign foods, such as kielbossi and halushki. I was also there when the egg rolls were delivered to Pottsville for the first time in the cover of darkness. The egg roll changed my life forever. While there is no egg in egg plant, the egg roll I tasted that night did have a somewhat eggy taste. Yet after ripping it apart I did not find any egg. How this could be accomplished baffles me to this day.
I could not stop at just one and ate at least a dozen.
You may be thinking what my tirade has to do with Easter and the celebratory egg roll of your forefathers and foremothers which involved real physical activity.
.
Yes, there used to be egg rolling in Pottsville, back in the Depression days of Mayor Lord, when children would gather downtown and, without using hands, push hardboiled eggs up to the East Side swimming pool. A precursor to youth soccer.
I was told that the trick to winning the event was to have the shell removed from your egg before rolling.
Now egg rolling is a thing of the past; children prefer to do their egg rolling electronically, using their expensive hand held Wii virtual egg rolling games.
I have no Wii and I don’t want a Wii. Besides after eating so many egg rolls, and after so many years of marriage, the only physical event that Mammy and I partake in is egg tapping. This game is simple: two contestants each hold an egg and the eggs are tapped together and the goal is break open the shell of the other.
Try it some time. Happy Easter.