The Maroon Cheerleaders

The Untold Story of the Pottsville Maroon Cheerleaders

Before the 1925 NFL championship season, the Pottsville Maroon cheerleader squad was composed of only unemployed coal miners. In fact it was not until 1920 that women won the right to cheerlead when the 19th Amendment to the Constitution was finally ratified.

"The right of citizens of the United States to cheerlead shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex."

Seeing cheerleaders was rarely a reason to watch a football game prior to the Constitution being amended, unless one was interested in watching dusty laidoff coal miners jump up and down. In 1924 it was decided that the cheerleading squad needed a new image and a decision was made to drop the miners and select an all female squad from the local garment factories in the Pottsville-Minersville area. This shrewd decision was based on "Dr. John" Striegel’s idea that a change to the cheerleader image was necessary to boost attendance. Apparently goldfish swallowing and flag-pole sitting were catching on in the coal region, luring many football fans away from the games. Now that the Maroons were going to be part of the NFL, it would be embarrassing for the franchise team to have lower radio ratings than amateur gold fish swallowing and amateur flag pole sitting. Radio coverage on WPPA of both of these crazes was pushing football off of the airwaves. Something had to be done.

The Miss Pennsylvania factory was selected to totally redesign the cheerleader outfits. Gone would be the heavy boots, bib overalls, and miner’s helmets. At first babuskas, woolen overcoats and arctic boots were experimented with, but within two weeks a more modern, feminine flapper-type outfit was chosen –daring for the times. Apparently the mostly male audience desired to see a little more flesh and an exposed calf would have to do, to the outrage of many of the local clergy who gave sermons on the ruination of western civilization if the lower back of a woman’s leg was exposed on or off the playing field.

That spring hundreds of young women converged at Kings’ Plaza where the Maroons played their games to audition; all sharing a single dream of being selected. The preliminaries, semi-finals and finals of the auditioning process were all held in that parking lot and resulted in twelve young women being picked to head off to Cheerleading Training Camp high atop Sharp Mountain. The process of turning civilian garment workers into professional cheerleaders has been described as a form of conditioning in which the inductees are encouraged to submerge their individuality for the good of the squad and the results were obvious.

For six grueling weeks, these candidates were transformed from fragile whiny and annoying young girls to powerfully disciplined young women, rehearsing for ten hour days, six days a week. Their diet consisted of football staples such as nacho cheese sauce, funnel cake and soft pretzels and it showed.

Besides the physical endurance, the candidates attended classes on grooming and personal hygiene, and diction. The latter was most important as the cheerleaders had to perfect the Schuylkill County dialect. They studied under the tutelage of language professors and anthropologists every Saturday from one o’clock until three thirty, or as one would say “one o’clock ‘til tree turdy.” Time would be spent mastering such common words such as dis, dat, dem, dese, dose, dere, dat dere. Ain’t that right?

In 1925 the revamped cheerleader squad debuted to the loud roar of approval from those in attendance at the games as well as from the patrons of Radzievich’s supermarket and Palarmo’s Restaurant who happened to be there during game time.

These girls were hot!

With the help of the reinvented cheerleaders, the Maroons went on to win the NFL championship that year by distracting the opposing teams with their pom poms, human pyramids and exposed calf muscles.

The rest is history and the stuff that legends are made of.

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.

my staycation: the city fountain

I took some photographs this summer during my Pottsville stay-cation. The one above is the world-famous fountain where legend has it, if you toss coins over your shoulder into its waters, you will return to Pottsville one day and the more coins you throw in the longer the stay. Yes, I am talking about the fountain at the corner of South Centre Street and Mahantongo Street. Not many coins in the fountain unfortunately. Mammy took this photograph. She could have gotten a little closer.

Yes, eye catching fountains are a must-have thing for any self-respecting city that wants to attract tourists and Pottsville has one of the best. Top notch. Jim Dandy. Awesome. What more can I say? Perhaps, “nifty.” This unnamed fountain was built in the 1970s with “Revenue Sharing” money that flooded into the area from Washington, D.C. Some say it is unnamed because no one wants to be associated with it, but that is just an urban legand. But it certainly is one piece of the “history of the 1970s” that when you see it, you’ll want to cry.

Yes, this artificially produced jet of water was bigger than I expected. From the postcards I had received over the years I thought it would be smaller. I stood there in awe. Yes, it did bring to my mind Versailles, the seat of the Sun King, Louis XIV, I have to admit that. The sumptuous use of water along Centre Avenue (note the French spelling of the word center) could not be otherwise.

At night I did get the opportunity to view the entertainment options that the fountain offers one's senses. At 9 PM every evening during the summer months the fountain offers a mesmerizing show of water, music and light, all interwoven to romance your senses. I promised Mammy we would return again next summer as we were so impressed. Try to imagine watching this fountain dancing to the rhythms of such 70s songs such as “Muskrat Love, “Kung Fu Fighting” and “Macho Man.” Unbelievable.Stupendous. Astounding. What more can I say. Wicked, perhaps, but that is it."

All of this is done for sheer entertainment, free of charge. It is an ambitiously choreographed complex water show set against the beautiful backdrop of the city’s closed public restrooms. Very clever indeed. There is no other municipal water fountain that offers the same scope, spectacle and emotional impact as this downtown city fountain.

There are some nay sayers, such as my brother-in-law who said, when first viewing the fountain, “Is that a leak in the building or was there a fire?” Municipal Jealousy! What more can I say. Perhaps,”cosmopolitan covetness.” Please ignore those architectural ignoramouses (ignoramice?).

How does one then summarize the Pottsville fountain to the novice? With the flux of tourists waiting to arrive at the soon-to-open Intermodal bus station, a summary is needed quickly….. It is a simple combination of a basin and a spout. It is this simplicity that draws the viewer inward. The water that feeds into the fountain comes from the Norwegian Creek, the mysterious natural underground spring that runs below the surface of the land we call home, and this natural spring only appears to the visible eye at the Ryon Insurance Company parking lot where hundreds flock because of the water’s supposed healing abilities. That is a topic for another blog.

This simple fountain, although less flashy than its sister fountains in Rome or Paris, makes a passerby totally relax, creating an atmosphere that is stress-free, and forget the loss of Pottsville’s past.

Schuylkill County History: Chapter Four

THE CIVIL WAR

When the Civil War broke out in (I think) the middle of the 19^th century. The North (our side) was caught off guard. Our troops were ill-suited for combat. I mean ill-suited literally, as the uniforms that were available tended to droop, making it difficult for the men to march long distances to such southern places as Bull Run, Fredericksburg, Chattanooga or Dollywood.

Schuylkill County was noted, not only for its numerous "hose houses" which feature, to this day, beer bologna floating in a jar of some unknown liquid, but also for its many hosiery mills and garment factories.

When the South (the other side) seceded from the Union, these factories were just in their infancy. In fact, the most notable local garment factory, Phillips Van Heusen, was not yet even opened.

It was indeed a primitive time for the garment industry. There were no designer jeans, no big pecker tee shirts, no Iverson Jerseys, no spandex tights and no tube tops. It was not until after the Civil War that our garment industry took off in full force to bless us with those clothing items.

Yes, there actually was a time in which clothes were made here in the United States, strange as it may sound. And to top it off, Schuylkill County was the epi-center of this fledgling garment industry. Big pecker tee shirts were meticulously stitched by hand right here with patience, skill and a lot of love, probably by many of your mothers or grandmothers; not mass produced in some far-away third world sweatshop.

So when the cry came out for assistance in keeping the soldiers’ trousers from drooping, the women of Schuylkill County banded together to help these local volunteers. The Pottsville Ladies’ Soldiers’ Aid Society created what was would come to be known as “The First Suspenders.” I believe that this effort was led by local native, Amanda Silliman. I am unsure as most of written history ignores contributions by women. That is why it is called His-tory. Through its efforts, local donations, consisting of wooden boxes, filled with suspenders, were sent to the soldiers at the front. No longer would our troops shuffle and meander along because of droopy trousers; now they were able to move at a fast pace. In fact these suspenders are credited for the success of Sherman’s March and also the recognition of race-walking as an Olympics event.

As we all know from grade school, suspenders were first invented in 1822 by Albert Thurston; soon the women of the area began to make thousands of them. They began their project after April 12, 1861, when the Governor of Pennsylvania received a tweet in these words:

OMG! The war is commenced :(

Twittering, in the 19th century, was limited to six words or less, and that is all the news that the Governor received for the next three days.

On April 15th President Abraham Lincoln, on Facebook, issued a proclamation to his entire network calling out the state militia and a request for volunteers. He wanted 75,000 troops. Schuylkill County, at the time had a population of about 90,000 and about 13,000 of the residents eventually volunteered as soldiers of the Union (our side).

Schuylkill County gave one of the largest percentages of volunteers. Yes, some signed up to get out of the house, and others joined because they were the President's Facebook buddies, but most volunteered due to a strong sense of patriotism and a love of country.

They loved this nation and did not want it broken into two. Soon about 500 Schuylkill County men passed through Baltimore on their way to the protect our Nation's Capitol. They marched right through, missing the Orioles game and passing up the Dolphin Show at the Aquarium. Lucky for them, as many Baltimorioles were sympathetic to the South and many more were upset over the Orioles being shut out by the Philadelphia Athletics. They began to hurl bricks and stones at our fast moving troops. One stone hit Pottsville resident, Nicholas Biddle on the head while he was playing his banjo. Our troops, however, were fast enough to get away from the crowd and those rebel-rousers were unable to keep up because of their own droopy trousers. Before long our men arrived in the Capitol and were welcomed by their Facebook friend, Abraham Lincoln. Nicholas Biddle, although the first to shed blood in the Civil War, would eventually fade into oblivion, dying penniless and forgotten. He was never able to cash in on his fifteen minutes of fame.

Read more about him though at this website: Nicholas Biddle.

*WARNING – SPOILER ALERT! The ending to the civil war will be revealed! STOP NOW if you don't know what happens next

The North would win the war and the Union would be preserved. Slavery would be abolished. The South would remain depressed and forgotten until 2010 when the New Orleans Saints won the Superbowl. Incidentally, droopy pants would make a comeback in the last decade of the twentieth century when suspenders went out of style. The last man to wear suspenders regularly was the little drummer boy of Company A, 96th Pennsylvania Infantry by the name of Larry King. He is the man of the last suspenders. And that is the rest of the story.