American Way Fair Memories

                               (sometimes good material just appears to fall out the sky)

 

 

                                           Say it ain’t so, Joe! 

Pottsville is losing its American Way Fair!   Another  loss to the downtown reeling from the loss of Pomeroy's, the Necho Allen Hotel, and the underground rest rooms. The tragic news came unexpectedly, as the $17 million Union Station was built, in part, to handle the influx of tourists, sightseers and street urchins that came to the annual Fair, boosting the city's economy.

All we have now are our memories to hold on to.  Man, it was one hell of a downhill ride, and I loved every minute of it.   How does one describe the AWF to the uninitiated?  For starters, try watching such films as “The Easter Parade,” “One Flew Over the Coo-Coo’s Nest,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “State Fair” and “The Grapes of Wrath” simultaneously.

Go ahead. I will wait until you are done…… You can get all of these films at the Red Box in the downtown Giant Supermarket….. Hurry up. I am waiting……

                                        (later, the next day)

                                               See, wasn’t I correct? 

 I did forget to mention that the new movie, “Mr. Peabody and Sherman” has a small scene in it, where the talking dog and his pet boy get into the Way-Back Machine and travel back to Pottsville in 1976; the year that the Fair opened.  It is a short five minute scene and only features the American Way Surplus Swine Flu Shot Tent with crowds of people lining up to get immunized with surplus swine flu vaccine, before Mr. Peabody yells to Sherman, “Hurry up, boy. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

I was there at the first fair.  I loved every minute. 

It opened on a solemn note, with the ecumenical blessing of the funnel cake batter, a prayer for those afflicted with disco fever, and a moment of silence for all of those who overslept. Then the Mayor and the Winter Carnival Mascot, Pottsie Ottsie, took to the podium to declare the official opening.

But, before I continue, think about 1960 when Senator John F. Kennedy visited Pottsville and removed his hat when speaking at the Garfield Diner as he tried to catch the attention of one of the Diner’s  waitresses.

From that moment, the men of Pottsville forever stopped wearing hats. Unfortunately they proceeded to burn down all of the city’s haberdasheries, leveling them into what we know today as parking lots.  In a similar manner, in 1976 the men of Pottsville stopped wearing shirts at any downtown fair after the mayor removed his polyester leisure jacket and polyester shirt to welcome the participants. 

His Honor was a hell of an emcee, bellowing out those immortal words, now taught to children in every middle school, home school, cyber school and charter school:

  “…You've proven to the world that several hundred people – and I call you people because I am one - can get together and have eight hours of fun and music and have nothing but fun and music, funnel cake and Italian Sausage, and I God Bless You for it!”  

Fortunately. while the men tore off their shirts after that announcement, no men’s clothing stores were damaged.  We have our level-headed mayor and the Pottsville Police Commissioner to thank for that.

From that moment on the AWF became synonymous with bare-chested men showing off their pasty, beer barrel abs. Noted linguists contend that the term “man boobs” became acceptable part of our English vernacular due to that historic, opening fair in the heart of the anthracite coal region.

It was then time for the music to begin. The Pottsville Kilties then performed, playing the melodic “Afternoon Delight” on their bagpipes while perched high atop the rooftop of the Park Hotel. A truly magical ‘70’s moment.  There was music of all variety was heard that beautiful day. For instance, there was Little Andy singing “the Disco Duck Polka” while Country and Western sensation “Wee” Willie Whistle doing a Texas swing version of “Play That Funky Music White Boy”  and the Byzantine Choir doing a somber, slow version of “(Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty, ” in the Ruthenian language.

 Wasn’t the music of the 1970’s the greatest?

Besides watching two transient street people, affectionately known to all as "The Captain and Tennille" play tennis on East Norwegian Street in a match unrivaled since Wimbledon, one of the athletic highlights of the fair was the 400-meter bed race with beds from all of the local furniture stores participating. There were teams from Nathans, Levitz, Brighters, Rombergers, Pomeroys and Sears going bed-to-bed with Tenenholz’s, Ufbergs, and Sisweins.  The local betting parlors were very busy that day with frantic wagering on which furniture store would win.   The winner, by the way, was a Chippendale bed from Tuzon’s, a 30-1 long shot. In last year's bed race, Goodwill was the only contestant.  Betting fell off precipitously.

The American Way Fair is now history.  Some say it will be like Philadelphia’s American Bandstand and relocate out west. Rumor has it that it may reappear in a year or two in Tower City, Sacramento or Rough and Ready. We can just hope.

All we have left are cherished  memories and perhaps, some Italian sausage or funnel cake shoved in the back of the freezer.  Thank you Billie, thank you Joe and thank you to all of the others who played any role in the AWF and that awesome, Sunday afternoon delight!

 

 

 

My take on church-sponsored "All You Can Eat" meals

 

Did you ever wonder why some Schuylkill County churches host all you can eat breakfasts and dinners during Lent? I know I have.  

Take a look at the calendar of events in the Republican Herald newspaper, you will find some church (or hose house) sponsoring an all you can eat scrapple breakfast, an all you can eat chicken pot pie luncheon or an all you can eat spaghetti dinner.

Some days I accept the challenge and go to all three.

Would you care to join me one of these days?

I call it the Schuylkill County hat trick.

 I may have been mistaken but, at one time, I thought that gluttony was a vice. It ranked last on the list of the seven deadly sins, way behind pride, envy, lust, fidgeting, peeing in a swimming pool and nail clipping in public.  Whatever happened to the stigma gluttony had over the centuries?

Maybe "gluttony" suffered the same fate as Pluto.

You remember Pluto don’t you?  I do. It used to be a planet but got voted out of our solar system. Sort of like the Survivor TV show.  Maybe gluttony got voted off the list of vices.  I know I didn’t vote. If I did I would have voted off "lust" and replaced it with "nagging." That is just my opinion.  Mammy repeatedly disagrees with me.

 Maybe it’s chewing food with one’s mouth open that is a vice and not the number of servings consumed. It sounds fairer to me. What do you think?

 With so many churches over-feeding the local population, I believe that there may be some biblical basis for church- sponsored gluttony that I missed when I read the bible over forty-five years ago.

 I can't imagine there was over-eating at the last supper.  I have seen the da Vinci painting and it certainly does not depict any liter bottles of RC Cola on the table or large bowls of chicken wings or pierogies. The platters all seemed fairly sparse; reminding me of  Le Bec Fin Restaurant in Philadelphia. Sparse and probably over-priced.

More likely it was when Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes. Perhaps that was the first "all you can eat" mackerel breakfast that remains popular in our county to this day. Maybe archeologists will find some ancient Sweet Arrow Lake scroll which will confirm that it is righteous and just to get up in the morning and eat as much food as humanly possible before settling down to watch cable TV.  

I don’t know about you but I don’t care for fish sandwiches for breakfast even though I have the name trout.  I prefer Lucky Charms cereal, left over city chicken and pickled eggs (not necessarily in that order). 

Probably I would have just eaten one fish sandwich if I was at Galilee. However, I would hate to get back in line for a second, especially with that Palestinian heat and the large crowd, so I probably would have taken two. With no doggie bags back in those days. If I didn’t want to eat it, I’d put it in my pants pocket. I don’t know about you but I hate to waste food.

  I know that mackerel breakfasts remain popular in Schuylkill County. If you can eat several large fish in the morning, then I say, “Holy Mackerel! Go for it! It is in the Bible for Pete’s sake!”

 Did you ever wonder who this Pete is? I know I have.

I think "Pete" refers to Peter, the apostle, who helped distribute the all you can eat loaves and fishes at Galilee.  I am not sure who distributed the tartar sauce. I know it wasn’t Peter. Maybe there wasn’t any back then.

I often wonder who invented tartar sauce. Don’t you?

Probably two Tartars from Crimea.

In any event I say a prayer before I sit down to my “all you can eat” bleenie brunch, large pepperoni pizza lunch or midnight halushki buffet.  I bow my head and humbly ask the Lord that our churches and hose houses continue to do his work, helping to keep our Schuylkill County people remain forever in His image and likeness – pudgy, portly and plump.

Then I begin to gorge myself, always remembering to chew my food with my mouth closed.

                                                               

THE LIFE AND TRAGIC DEATH OF POTTSIE OTTSIE

Dear Mr. Trout:

 I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there was Pottsie Ottsie.  My mother’s latest boyfriend said that if you see it on the "Beansoup for the Soul" website then its so. Please tell me the truth; was there a Pottsie Ottsie?

                                               Virginia

Your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. How dreary would be Schuylkill County have been if there was no Pottsie Ottsie. Virginia, Pottsie Ottsie was the Greater Pottsville Winter Carnival mascot for many years, during a time when Pottsville’s citizens actually held jobs and cleaned up after themselves and their property.    Don’t be frightened Virginia. Those people actually seemed to enjoy holding jobs and cleaning up after themselves and keeping their property neat and tidy - horrible as it may sound to you and to me.  Virginia, be grateful for the safety net that you have now which allows you to avoid holding a job, or taking care of yourself or your property and guarantees you a disability check for your ergophobia ("fear of the workplace") as well as subsidized apartment.

 Known to his friends as Ottsie, he was a snowman of mixed heritage. His father, Frederic, was Teutonic and his mother, Rita, was Italian ice; he was born in Yorkville during a blizzard when Yorkville was an independent duchy.  His birth name was Otto von Mieswinkel.  He attended the Yorkville Elementary School and was proud to be one of the first snowmen to do so.  His high school years were uneventful, although he was King of the Christmas prom for all four years. After graduation, he attempted to join the service but was labelled 4-F for having cold feet and an undescended snow ball.

He went to work for the "The Pottsville Ice and Cold Storage Company” on East Railroad Street.  He worked there for years and eventually learned everything about ice -   cube, cracked, shaved and block. He knew it all. His knowledge of ice made him a hit with Pottsville’s cocktail lounge circuit where ice was very important.  He was a snowman about town, either at the Necho Allen Tap Room, the Leiderkrantz or the Yorkville Hose House.  It was Ottsie that taught all of the city’s bartenders how important that crushed ice was for mint juleps, despite what they teach you in school. He soon ended up with a bevy of girlfriends. All princesses if you catch my drift. Most found his button nose irresistible, although one thought it was abominable but overlooked it.

It was at the Pottsville Ski Lodge that Otto met up with the Winter Carnival founding mothers and fathers.  He offered them glitz and glamour as well as a steady stream of ice for their cocktails.  In return they offered him fame and fortune for being the mascot. 

 Thus, he was renamed "Pottsie Ottsie." A star was born.

Things went well until Carnival fell on hard times due to the gas shortages; many floats would be abandoned along the parade route.  Finger-pointing began and they all pointed to Pottsie Ottsie.  He would look at them with his two eyes made out of coal and deny any responsibility but it appeared that his days were numbered.  Many believed that Pottsie was a bit of a flake and that the city needed a more recognizable mascot.  They began to push a certain leprechaun who had the right family connections.  Soon the city was torn apart. Half wanted Ottsie to stay, half wanted Ottsie out.   The Pottsville Riot Police were often called to dispel the demonstrators with many notable citizens picking sides.

Soon Pottsie Ottsie went on WPPA and stunned the listening audience. “I leave you gentleman now. You will now write it; you will interpret it; that's your right. But as I leave you I want you to know.... just think how much you're going to be missing. You don't have Ottsie to kick around anymore, because, gentlemen, this is my last press conference.”

From then on Pottsie Ottsie was given the cold shoulder. He slid into obscurity, hitting the chilly sauce at various gin joints, getting into snowball fights, and leading a life of debauchery. Not necessarily in that order. Things got so bad that he was seen running here and there, all around the square saying “Catch me if you can.”   

After being diagnosed as bi-polar (Arctic and Antarctic), his three involuntary commitments in 5-P didn’t seem to help.   

His last years were spent in a small room at the William Penn Hotel on East Norwegian Street.   While reports were given to the desk clerk of a strange "thumpity, thump, thump" coming from his room, no one checked on him. Some said he was dead for some time, as all that remained was a puddle, a button nose, two eyes made of coal and a corn cob pipe. 

DNA testing years later, performed by Pottsville’s esteemed surgeon general, confirmed the large puddle to be the remains of Pottsie Ottsie.

There would be no public ceremony, only a simple funeral. His grave stone epitaph at the old Saint John's Cemetery, on Bunker Hill,  simply reads "a jolly, happy soul."

Pottsville has been without a mascot ever since, and it shows.

Virginia, while he may have evaporated, Pottsie Ottsie still lives in our hearts. I hope he continues to live in yours.

 

 

 

Snow Emergency Rules Now In Effect In Pottsville

 

 

 

 

         SNOW EMERGENCY RULES WILL BE STRICTLY ENFORCED 

To all citizens  of Pottsville and non-citizens of Pottsville who are within the city limits, whether by choice, force or accident, the city's snow emergency rules will be strictly applied. 

These rules are effective immediately: 

chairs may be placed only on the street in front of houses with even numbered addresses on Mondays (remedial math classes are available for those still having trouble with numbers);

On Tuesdays, chairs may be placed only in front of houses with odd numbered addresses (again, remedial math classes are available for those having trouble with numbers);

Wednesday is “Over the hump day,” and chairs may be placed only on top of snow mounds;

On Thursdays, chairs may be placed only in front of houses that have addresses with  numbers  found in Wednesday night’s Big Four Lottery game;

Friday is “Casual Friday” and only bean-bag chairs or ottomans may be placed in front of houses.

On Saturdays only upholstered, living room chairs with high seat backs will be permitted. For further clarification call City Hall.

Sunday is a free-for-all day and chairs can be placed anywhere one damn pleases.   

Please remember that chairs placed in violation of the snow emergency rules could result in confiscation of your chair, the imposition of fines and/or imprisonment with hard labor, such as working the funnel cake stand at this year's American Way Fair(not necessarily in that order). 

So be kind, and rewind.

These rules apply to ironing boards, ash tubs, and portable toilets as well as chairs.  They do not apply to boat trailers which are allowed to remain parked on city streets indefinitely such as the boat trailer on West Market Street, near 14th Street. 

So head on up to Cabella's and get yourself one or else hire someone to plow.

 (below left, boat trailer on Market Street - acceptable)                                                                                     (below right, chair on Norwegian St.

                                                                                                                                                                                                       -unacceptable)