The Negative Impact Of Professional Pierogie Eating On Today's Society

It is time for me to be serious. I realize it is Pierogie Bowl Weekend in Schuylkill County and many families will be hosting Pierogie Bowl Parties or going out to a Sports Bar to watch it on Plasma TV. I don't want to be a humbug but the Pierogie Bowl has a negative, delusional impact on our young people and it is time we faced up to this fact.

Pierogie eating is big around here – very big. It always has been and probably always will be. Years ago, our young boys had nothing to look forward to but to work in the mines. That is, dangerous work in the dark for sixty hours a week. On Saturday nights the miner could then go out to smoke, drink, gamble and chase skirts with his paycheck. Yes, I know it sounds pretty good but the excitement and novelty quickly wears off and monotony sets in after several years.

Eventually word got out that it is possible to become rich and famous, while still having time to smoke, drink, gamble and chase skirts, by breaking into the fledgling pro sport of pierogie eating. But no longer would one have to go underground for sixty hours a week for the opportunity to do so as pierogie eating was done nearly all of the time above-ground.

The prestige bestowed on the professionals of competitive pierogie eating encouraged young men, primarily from “north of the Broad Mountain” to consider this up and coming sport as a one-way ticket out of the mines.

The temptations of exorbitant endorsement payments, autograph sales, and contracts with the Food Channel and Bon Appetit magazine are certainly seductive to many a young boy and few girls (pierogie eating has gone co-ed due to Title IX requirements).

Yet breaking into the pros remains an elusive and unrealistic goal. Only the “cream of the potato crop” will make it the Pierogie Bowl. The disheartened majority will fall by the wayside. Exploited by coaches and corporate executives, these naive, gluttonous youngsters will usually find themselves without a decent job when their eating contest days end and they become has-beens.

It is difficult to change this mentality, as many myths remain unshakeable. Myth Number One is that “high school pierogie gorgers get scholarships.” This is absolutely incorrect. While it is true that there is some financial assistance to attend a culinary school out there, very, very few high school pasta pocketeers actually receive full scholarships to such places. The scholarship money awarded is pittance and would not even pay for a semester’s worth of butter and onions.

Myth Number Two is that “pierogie competition leads to a college degree.” Without any doubt, more pierogie eaters are college educated today than years ago. Yet many barriers remain which hamper graduation for the serious college pierogie competitors. The demands on their time and energy as well as the post-game indigestion, gaseousness and nausea are incalculable, even in the off-season. Because of these pressures, many collegiate food devourers simply drop out and forget about receiving a diploma.

Myth Number Three is that “pierogie eating is a realistic career choice.” Again, this myth is without foundation. Yes, a few pierogie eating standouts can make millions, but their number is extremely low. On the other hand, the average pierogie tasting jobs jobs have either been relocated overseas (thanks to NAFTA) or performed by robots. The jobs just aren’t there anymore.

These three myths remain strong in our county where pierogie eating is now ranked as the number three high school sport, following right behind football and field hockey. During the summer off-season I did manage to visit a few of the several pierogie eating training camps that dot our beautiful county. To those who do not follow the sport of pierogie eating, these camps are commonly referred to as “block parties, ” "bazaars," "church picnics" or “street fairs.” These training camp block parties are basically places where young rookies as well as the more “seasoned” (no pun intended) semi-pros display their skills and try to be spotted by scout to possibly earn roster spots on the glamour teams from Mahanoy City, Shenandoah or the up-start Lost Creek that are legends in the Mrs. T Pierogie Bowl. It is a coal region way of life that will never die. The large attendance and participation at such events as the Polish Day, Lithuanian and Ukrainian Day Festivals in Minersville, as well as the Yorkville Block Party, reflect the aspirations of hundreds of our county's youngsters. They want to turn pro and make ridiculous amounts of money instantly. And why not?

Maybe the grueling discipline and hours of practice will pay off for one or possibly two. Who knows? Maybe these select few will get a chance to participate in the biggest bowl tournament in the coal region. But lets get serious, it's not going to happen for most. These impressionable kids are wasting their time as well as their block party tickets. Tickets better spent on halushki, bean soup or french fries.

Their willingness to train, sacrifice, and prepare for the future are commendable. But in doing so, the main focus needs to be on developing the occupational skills needed for success in a highly competitive global marketplace. Professional Pierogie Eating is not going to cut it. You don't see Won Ton eating competition being glorified in China. No, those youngsters are busy solving math problems. This is why I am boycotting this year's pierogie bowl. Just say 'dough.'

Top Ten Highlights of Last Year's Pierogie Bowl

TOP TEN HIGHLIGHTS OF LAST YEAR'S PIEROGIE BOWL

10. The sexy new babushkas worn by the hot Pierogie Bowl cheerleaders;
9. Mrs. T's scandalous wardrobe malfunction during the half-time show;
8. The post-game locker room interviews, the congratulatory phone call from the President Obama, The Mahanoy City post-game victory parade - all priceless;
7. Service Electric finally had “pay-for-view” coverage available for those who could not get tickets to the game;
6. The beer vendors lowering the price of Kaier’s to $5. per cup;
5. After the game Spencer Gifts had “pierogie bowl champion" bobble-heads 50% off;
4. Those crazy end-zone polka dances;
3. The Shenandoah wide receiver's groin injury;
2. Less choking than in the Eagles game;
1. The look of jubilation on the faces of the victorious Mahanoy City team after a carton of Guers Iced Tea was poured over Mr. Twardzik while the team yelled out in unison, “We’re going to Lakewood Park.”

North or South of the Mountain

Schuylkill County’s devotion to the Three Stooges is unsurpassed. The eye poking, the slaps on the face, the ear pulling. Yes, we the simple people of Schuylkill County can never get enough of that stuff. For decades every television set during the B.C. period of time (Before Computer), were all turned on to the Stooges. It didn’t matter if you watched with rabbit ears or on Trans-Video, Shen-Tel, Comcast or peered through your neighbor’s window. You had to see them to believe them.

Over the years there were many attempts to honor these gentlemen in the County despite the unwritten rule that only living local politicians, school directors or bureaucrats are to be honored by having streets, bridges and buildings named after them. In Pottsville the city councilmen unanimously rejected a proposal of having Claude Lord Boulevard renamed to Curly Way, but council did throw a bone to the masses by dedicating “Howard Avenue” in honor of Moe, Curly and Shemp Howard. These were the three sibling stooges. It was a safe way to get re-elected; don’t offend anyone. By naming it Howard Avenue, the councilmen avoided taking a stand in the warring faction between the residents favoring Curly over Shemp.

You see, Schuylkill County was and still is a very provincial area. The Broad Mountain, where Necho Allen discovered enlightenment, basically separates the county into two, and the differences between the populations of those living “north of the mountain” from those living “south of the mountain” are quite obvious.

Those living on the north drive on the right side of the road, while those living on south drive on the left. Those living in the north use the term “hoagie,” while those to the south prefer the term “submarine sandwich.” In the north it is impolite to chew gum while talking, and in the South it is impolite to talk while chewing gum. In the north apples are eaten to keep a doctor away; in the south apples are eaten solely for the fiber content. If a doctor fails to come around, so be it, the doctor is more likely to be your neighbor. Those living north of the mountain eat “halupkies” while those on the south side dine on “stuffed cabbage.” Those north of the mountain wear “dinkies” and those on the south don “knitted caps” (with designer logos). Those to the north use “sweepers” and those in the south use “vacuum cleaners.” In the North Alphabet Soup is in Cyrillic, but not so in the South. I could go on and on.

However, when the topic is “who is your favorite Stooge?” the North’s support for one particular Stooge was unmatched. Yes, the South overwhelmingly favored Curly, while the North held him in contempt, considering him to be the fraudulent Stooge – an imposter, a fake, a phony, a pretender to the throne, a charlatan. I could go on and on. The North was unwavering in its support of Shemp. Just click on Google Earth you will locate the village of Shempton, north of the Broad Mountain, made famous in the 1960’s as the scene of the legendary Shempton Mine Disaster, where rescue efforts ceased every day when it was time for TV celebrity Sally Starr to host a Stooge film. When the film ended, discussions of its meaning would follow before rescue work resumed. This is one theory as to why not everyone got out of the mine.

Yes, there were isolated pockets of support for other Stooges north of the Mountain, but they were far and in between. Who can forget the misguided attempt to have Shenandoah re-named Shen-Moe? The instigator stood up at the council meeting with his placard with the words, “Just Say Moe.” I certainly cannot forget. Thankfully dozens of Kiethan Bakery pies were hurled at him and he left town.

To this day, the name remains as Shen-Doe.

Allentown's plans for St. George's

I have been watching the demolition of the historic St. George’s Church in Shenandoah for some time now. People have been coming up to me asking, “what are the plans for the site once the church is finally down.” I casually reply “Who do you think I am? Mr.know-it-all?”
They get the message,walk away and leave me alone.
Curiosity finally got the better of me and I headed over to the Allentown where I would meet the person in charge of the demolition. I needed a real answer to give the people who depended on me to clear things up for them, rather than give them some koan to ponder. I arranged a luncheon at the Patio Restaurant in the basement of Hess Brothers Department Store. The mystery would soon be solved.

I took the escalator down to the basement of the store, flashed my blog pass to the store detective and soon was introduced to an elderly cleric wearing an oversized biretta on his head. He had a thick Irish brogue. The picture above was taken by the surveillance Polaroid camera. He was accompanied by two large swiss guards who stood behind him while we dined on hamburgers and drank cherry cokes. The guards ate cheese and drank hot chocolate if you are wondering, keeping a watchful eye on me all the while.
Our conversation went something like this:
“Top of the morning to you. We in Allentown are heartbroken over the animosity that arose over our decision to bring down an old building that was on the verge of collapse. Did you know that the building was over one hundred years old. In dog years that would be about seven hundred years old. If you had a dog 700 years old you would have shot it by now. Yes, we are aware that buildings in Europe stand proudly of upwards of a thousand years and are carefully preserved. But remember, that’s Europe and this is America. In major American cities sports stadiums are considered old and are demolished every twenty years or so and no one bats an eyelash. We just don’t know what all the fuss is about. If the ‘76ers were playing at St. George’s, everyone would be hollering to knock it down. I’ll ask the waitress to bring over a bottle of ketchup.”
“Fadda' What about the cultural heritage that is being lost forever? Ask for mustard while you are at it.”
“Yes, we are aware that it was the oldest Lithuanian Church in the United States, but now some other church will get to claim the title. Don’t you think everyone should get a turn? Remember when Vanessa Williams was stripped of the Miss America title, and she was quickly replaced. Life will go on my son. Please pass me the salt.”
“But Fadda' people are upset that the blood, sweat and tears of the ancestral coal miners who built the church will be forgotten. Fadda' do you want the pepper also?”
I then passed him the salt and pepper shakers.
“My son, we are very sensitive to this. A beautiful memorial will be placed on the location, dependent of course, on enough funds being raised to cover the costs. Last year the Appeal Fund only raised $4.59 plus three Damato Post pool tokens from the disgruntled parishioners. They have to be a little more loose with the purse if they want this memorial. Once the church is completely down, the sacred artifacts hauled away, and the dust settles (no pun intended) we in Allentown have a plan for the site. First we schedule a polka dance on the site to flatten the ground, secondly several truckloads of fresh coal dirt will be spread down and baked on top, followed by still another polka dance to make sure the ground has settled. Then the monument will be erected in the center with a magnificent fence of sheet metal purchased locally from Boley’s Irons Works to surround the entire parking lot....er...I mean...piazza. By purchasing all the metal from Boley’s Iron Works we will be stimulating the local economy rather than outsourcing. The lot...er....piazza... will assist in aleviating the parking problem during the Christmas and Easter holidays when everyone goes to the Kielbassi Shop. Do they still serve those big ice cream sundaes and strawberry pies here?”
At that point he unraveled the blue prints and I saw the proposed memorial marker with my own eyes. Why it was magnificent. Take a look for yourself.

gone, baby, gone...

I stopped by St. George’s Church in Shenandoah the other week, before the ecclesiastical wrecking crew arrived. I was stunned by the magnificant gothic structure with its stone figurines looking down upon me. That it was going to be destroyed and leveled and left as a dirt lot was perplexing to me. The disemboweled church’s artistic and historic treasures --- the statues, the sacred vessels, the paintings, the antiques, the stained glass, the altar stone, etc. -- all paid for by the sweat and tears of mainly immigrant, anthracite coal miners -- were presumably being packed up and hauled away out of Schuylkill county. They may end up on Channel 44’s Antique Roadshow, Renninger's at Adamstown or on Ebay. Who knows?

Nothing is going to remain behind in Shenandoah as a reminder of this historical, ethnic and Catholic past. The higher-ups want no trace of the church’s existence to be left behind. Its treasury, together with its building improvement fund, has been long gone for some time. I guess that is a new twist on the Bishop’s Appeal Fund. I was also told by a reliable source that the plunder may also include the cemetery perpetual care funds, but I cannot verify that this, as there are no open discussions about what is going on or what the plans will be. I was told that there will be no keepsakes left behind. There was not even a small ceremony of deconsecration or farewell party held before the pillaging began.

I had thought it was Canon Law that a deconsecration service was required to be held, but I was wrong. There is no such requirement. Apparently the parishioners were simply told to get out and stay out. Someone told me that they were all given green plastic hats and instructed to march on over to the Annunciation Church and don't look back. The local historical societies were not given any invitation to copy any church records, or an opportunity to photograph or videotape the church’s interior for posterity.
The whole episode sort of reminds me of a combination of the Taliban in Afghanistan demolishing the Buddhist statues and the WWII Germans confiscating art work throughout Europe. At least the Russians did not raze the buildings when they closed the churches in eastern europe.
The United Nations has stated its recognition of the importance of the protection of cultural heritage and commits itself to fight against its intentional destruction in any form so that such cultural heritage may be transmitted to the succeeding generations. However this appreciation has fallen upon deaf ears around here. The oldest Lithuanian church in the United States is being obliterated. Just as the twin towers in New York came down, the twin towers of Shenandoah will be no more. The powers that be are similar to Stephen Girard and the other coal barons of the 19th century, extracting the wealth from the coal region to be used elsewhere. The powers that be were almost successful in annihilating every Lithuanian church in the county, but one got away - that one in Mahanoy City - and only because Mother Teresa inadvertently ruined their plans when she stopped by to purchase a take-out order of bleenies (limit six to a customer) and then decided to preach at that church. “Darn you, M T !” However the flattening of St. George’s and riddance of its existence makes up for “that one that got away.”
The church building was a cultural resource, a tangible link to Shenandoah’s past and Schuylkill County's past. The building provided information and knowledge in different areas such as art history, genealogy, and architecture. The building provided aesthetic value to that mining community, which will now probably be left with a vacant dirt lot, accumulating debris from the town’s Burger King customers. Lastly, the building could have been an economic resource if left to a viable cultural association.
It is somewhat contradictory that church-goers are taught to be respectful of worn-out, sacramental objects such as scapulars, bibles and rosary beads while at the same time the consecrated church building is being eradicated and leveled. The deconsecration process apparently consists of getting the proper permit from the borough and paying the haulers and demolition crews on time.
Isn’t it ironic that the decision to pulverize St. George’s was done on the watch of Bishop Edward Cullen? Assessment records of Avalon, Cape May County N.J., reveal that the ocean front property at 4660 Dune Dr. is deeded to an Edward P. Cullen (no title) with a value of $1.36 million. The tax bill had been sent to 2920 Chew St., Allentown, Pa., the residential address of the Bishop of the Diocese of Allentown, the Most Reverend Edward P. Cullen. The assessment records of Stone Harbor, Cape May County, N.J. reveal that Unit 201, Golden Shores Condominiums, 8001 Second Ave. is deeded to an Edward Cullen (no title) with a value of $600,000, and the tax bills were being sent to 4660 Dune Dr. Avalon. The assessment records of Lehigh County showed that a property at 3853 Larkspur Dr. Allentown, was deeded to a Most Reverend Edward P. Cullen, with a value of $390,000, and tax bills were being sent to P.O. Box F, Allentown, Pa., the address of the Chancery of the Diocese of Allentown. (information taken from the Allentown Morning Call).

Cinco de Mayo in Jalappa

¿Qué pasó? May 5th is Cinco de Mayo and I wouldn’t celebrate anywhere else but in Pottsville. I bet you did not know that the legendary General and Mexican Dictator, Santa Anna, was born in Jalappa (pronounced “Hha-lop-a”) in the northern part of present day Pottsville. He was born there in 1794. Look it up on Wikipedia if you don't believe me. Apparently, Jalappa enjoyed its own independence until 1806. That was the year Pottsville was discovered by John Pott and his band of Conquistadors, Maroons' offensive linesmen and volunteer firemen who quickly annexed iron-rich Jalappa. The natives surrendered without a fight, as they believed John Pott to be the second coming of Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent god. Boy, did they have it all wrong.
To put all of this into historical perspective for you, Necho Allen, discovered coal in 1790 when he fell asleep at the base of the Broad Mountain after a late night out after playing softball. I am not sure if the fire was started by a carelessly tossed cigarette or not, but when he awoke, anthracite had been ignited for the first time. By the end of the eighteenth century, coal furnaces were springing up all around Schuylkill County. Meanwhile young Santa Anna was swinging at a piñata in his backyard in Jalappa. This charming custom is still as popular today in the coal region as the Margarita. However, young Mister Anna soon got on his skateboard and left the area to further his education south of the border, as Jalappa Elementary was not opened until 1868. The rest is history.

I recently walked down Calle Del Agua (Water Street) but I could find no clues as to his exact birthplace. You think that the Historical Society would have a marker somewhere - a local native who becomes a world famous dictator deserves some recognition, for crying out loud! The AAA travel book indicates that Jalappa is noted as “a summer resort surrounded by beautiful mountains.” I can vouch for the correctness of that opinion and recommend it for a cheap get away in this period when a gallon of gas costs nearly 42 pesos.

Anyway, Jalappa keeps its most famous resident a secret. During my walk, I would stop people on the street and ask, “Estoy buscando el hogar de Santa Anna?” The typical response would be a simple stare, or else people would run away from me yelling, “Este hombre está loco!” Maybe my sombrero scared them, or they are just clueless. I did get to enjoy the centerpiece of this Jalappa Latin culture, which is, of course, the magnificant "Maria, Reina de la Paz" or "Mary Queen of Peace" Church. It is beautiful and well worth a stop on your next visit to Jalappa. It will close very shortly due to the pending Diocese Irishification policy, so you better hurry!
How on earth did this humble Jalappite (or Jalappino, as many of the residents prefer to be called) rise to power to rule the third largest nation in North America? Well, if you see the newest version of the Alamo movie, then you become enlightened. This latest version is much more hip than the old John Wayne version. It has Billy Bob Thornton as Jiminy Crockett, Jason Patric as David Bowie, Whitney Houston as the first female Texan Governor, old Senor Wences as himself, and Enrique Iglesias as Jalappa’s own badass, General Santa Anna. What more can I say? Better get out to West Coast or Hollywood video and rent it tonight. Pronto!

What about any other Spanish or Hispanic influences in the county? Jalappa certainly does not have a monopoly. Well, did you know that Palo Alto is Spanish for “High Wood?” This little Hispanic village, which recently celebrated its 150th anniversary, had been noted for its annual running of the pigs down the appropriately named Calle de Tocino (now anglicized to Bacon Street), but that sport has been replaced with the more terrifying sport of driving one’s car from West Bacon Street onto Route 61- South. Try it some time.

Another enclave is Sacramento, out in the west end. Then, of course, there is Shenandoah. This cosmopolitan metropolis has recently developed a distinct Latin flair. For instance, it is the birthplace of the world famous jalapeno pierogie. Acculturation at its best!

Adios Amigos. ¡Hasta que satisfacemos otra vez! Happy Cinco de Mayo.