the Jimmy Buffet House in North Manheim Township

I recently attended the County symposium on the causes of the warm winter we just experienced. It was held at the Pottsville Planetarium and the science community was there in full force, setting forth plausible explanations.

Obviously some believed it was due to the groundhog prediction, others believed it was caused by the elderly population going overboard on Hoody Hoo Day and pushed for a ordinance banning the practice of Hoody Hooism, and still others believed the temperature increased solely due to the proliferation of Zumba lessons throughout the area. The end result was absolutely no consensus and a fight soon erupted over which irish democrat the Planetarium should be named after .

Afterwards a group of us headed over to the newest entertainment establishment in the county. You know, the one devoted to Jimmy Buffet. It is located in North Manheim Township along Route 61 not far from the legendary Spa 61. It’s called the Buffet House and should be a major destination for Hawaiian-shirt-wearing aging yuppies on their way to or from Cabela’s. In fact there is plenty of parking for their Escalades and BMWs.

When we arrived I noticed the large grand opening sign in the front. I felt welcomed and at ease until one member of our group started to complain as he thought the place was devoted to Warren Buffet. I told him “No way, Jose” and we headed towards the entrance.

I think the owners of the place were expecting large crowds of Jimmy Buffet devotees (who are referred to as Juggalos) as a metal fence encircled the premises to keep the crowds at bay.

Before we entered I went into a trance-like flashback, remembering my visits to this location many, many years ago. This was the place that I first laid eyes on Mammy; she was doing the Hustle, all dressed up in her silver polyester outfit. That was the 70s. The rest is history. The dancehall was known to all then as “the Dusselfink” during those Mad Men years, when Willard and Cook ruled the County and everyone drank hi-balls, ate pop rocks, and smoked cigarettes openly and in your face. And of course everyone danced. Some called it a Wonderland while others called it a Pennsylvania Dutch Studio 54. We just called it ‘Das Fink’ where Lounge Music reigned supreme.

When I snapped out of my trance, we were already inside the Buffet House. It was quite rustic, but it had to be, as it was to convey the let’s pretend we are Castaways feelings that Jimmy Buffet exudes. We had no problem getting a seat as we were the only ones there. After about ten minutes I looked around. Not only were there no other patrons, there were no hosts or hostesses. I had my mind set on ordering the special that was advertised on the sign. Then I remembered it was a Monday and many restaurants were closed on Mondays, so we got up and left.

Someone in the SUV said it reminded him of a burned-out restaurant, like the old Manheim Diner, a pile of charred rubble that sat for years just a mile south of the Jimmy Buffet House. While he missed that old pile of charred pile of rubble, this new one was even better. It will be the new focal point of North Manheim Township. The Township was always proud to show off a burned out restaurant to passerbys.

We were still hungry and we wanted cheeseburgers in paradise, so we headed north to Margarita...I mean...Pottsville and stopped in at the Eagles Club. I switched shirts before we entered as the Hawaiian shirt I had on was inappropriate attire at the Eagles which has a very strict dress code. We would go the Buffet House another day. It will be there for years to come.

dancing in the '70s

It was hard to believe that in the 1970s, within walking distance, you had a choice of disco, funk and lounge music. The buildings along Route 61-South, that once housed the Alley and the Disco Alley have long been razed and the location is now the current Aldi’s parking lot but things were so much different then. Let me give you a short history lesson.
Pottsville Musicologists defines disco as “up tempo music (but not as up tempo as polka music).” In the mid 1970s, all of Schuylkill County was distraught over the Rest Haven Scandal and were in search of a new beat to escape from the daily headlines of corruption in the highest places. It would not take long for the hypnotic sound of “Rock the Boat” by the Hues Corporation to captivate an audience from Sheppton to Port Clinton. To channel this energy, a massive undertaking commenced and the first discothèque was opened near Cressona. It was christened “Disco Alley.” I recently walked the grounds of the Aldi’s parking lot, able to find actual platform shoe footprints of some of those earlier disco adventurers. I highly recommend it.
What was this Disco Alley exactly? Mark Major, a local historian, called it the hottest, most elite and outrageous, one-of-a-kind "mother of all nightclubs.” During its early reign, The Disco Alley was like real-life theatre, with a fascinating cast of characters being selected for each night's grand cabaret performance party from the multitudes clamoring to get past the famed velvet ropes to do the Hustle under the rotating mirror ball that reflected a bundle of colored lights. Celebrity status did not guarantee admittance to the Disco Alley and many ordinary Skooks, such as I, got in while some more prominent were turned away. According to Major, billiard champion Joe Balsis and author Conrad Richter reportedly never gained admittance. Unbelievable! One former Winter Carnival Queen, according to one anonymous Winter Carnival committeeman, was stunned after being rejected from the glittering nightspot. The bodacious diva had exclaimed, "I was once Queen of the Snows!" as the doorman shoved her away.

If one tired of disco music, there was a secret passageway that led to the “Alley” on the other side of the large building. The entire building once had been a bowling alley but converted to a nightclub in the mid 60s. According to respected Schuylkill mythologists, a few patrons swore that when the band would take a break they heard rolling bowling balls and falling pins.
“The Alley” featured live musicians. The most notable was a group called “Waterfront,” named after the nearby Schuylkill River. The band was racially integrated, with a lead singer by the name of Johnny Friendly, but I could be wrong. It was here, according to the Zerbey History of Schuylkill County, that the county Funkadelic music explosion took place. Hundreds were captivated by the danceable beats and booming bass lines, and they headed to the Alley on band nights. As a result, the phrase was born, “Niveus populus de Schuylkill tellus operor non tripudio bonus” or “White Skooks can’t dance.”

The last piece of the musical treasure was the legendary “Fink.” This was center of the county’s lounge music. That style is defined by the conductor of the Schuylkill Symphony as “light melodies influenced by pop, big band and elevators.” If you were a fan of such syrup as “Muskrat Love,” “We’ve Only Just Begun,” and “You’re Having My Baby,” and you wore the right type of polyester clothing, then you were a bona fide lounge lizard. The Dusselfink was the place for the 30s and 40s crowd, especially those divorced or longing to be divorced. The scene was oblivious to the rise of funk and disco. This was the place to have your sangria or pina colada, while listening to some of the worst songs ever written. Do you remember that song, “Feelings?” You know that song; you heard it a million times. Didn’t it make you sick to your stomach? Didn't it make you want to smash your fists against the wall? It went something like this, “If you’re happy and you know it, and you really want to show it, clap your hands.” No that was not it…. It went like this….. “Feelings, wo-o-o feelings….”

The ‘70s are so long ago. I hope I taught you something. Have a Nice Day!☺