Birch Bay Update: New Pub Opening Soon

The quality of life in Birch Bay was diminished a couple of years ago when a bankruptcy caused the closure of two Birch Bay Drive year-round eating establishments: C.J.'s Beach House and CJ Wijns. The Beach House served, in my experience, the best food in Birch Bay. It was a great place to take visitors. Wijns (however you pronounced it) was a good place to get some coffee, lunch, and/or wine in a comfortable atmosphere and at a reasonable cost.

Fortunately, eating options have improved greatly in Birch Bay during the past few months with the re-opening of the Beach House, now owned by Jack Niemann, a successful local restaurateur, and the opening of two other restaurants to replace ones that closed: the Via Birch Bay Cafe and Bistro (the only eating place on the Ocean side of Birch Bay Drive) and Vonna's Purple Fin Restaurant. The Via filled a building that had been empty for quite a while after the Blue Fish Restaurant closed down, and it seemed to do a healthy business this summer. It had a major setback last Winter when a blustery storm brought waves that crashed through windows and flooded the place, but it has bounced back well. The Purple Fin, located near the C Shop on Anderson Road, filled a space that had been occupied for a couple of years by Dee's Country Diner. I ate at the Purple Fin in June with six other people who ordered a variety of fish and meat dishes, and we are all pleased with our meals.

A sign in the window of the space that housed Wijns announces the pending arrival of The Will O Pub and Cafe. The new establishment has a Facebook page ( https://www.facebook.com/Thewillopub ) charting the progress of opening the new business. It appears that it should occur any day now, pending final inspections and permits.

I wish these new places, as well as those Birch Bay restaurants and cafes that survived the Great Recession, well.  Birch Bay offers significant challenges to such businesses, mainly because the busy days of summer are followed by many days when Birch Bay attracts few visitors (there is a reason the C Shop stops daily operations after Labor Day). Nevertheless, with a growing number of full-time residents in the area, a revival of the housing market, and rising prosperity, the local economy is likely going to be much better in the coming months than it has been during the last few off-seasons. If so, we can expect all of these newly opened establishments to be ready to welcome the flood of visitors starting in Spring 2014.

Birch Bay Summer, 2013: A Photojournalist Report from the Front

Most of June, all of July, and the first few days of August have been spectacular in Birch Bay. During this time, I have awakened thinking, “What did I do to deserve such great weather?”  The days have been in the 70’s to low 80’s; the nights are cooled to the 50's. I can’t image a better combination, especially with the daily sun sparkling off the blue Bay. 

The fabulous weather has been enhanced by the visit of Godson Danielka, who gives me new insights into the lives of 11-year-old boys. Of course, I don’t always appreciate when he points out -- after I suggest that something he did wasn't too smart -- that I was born in the last century while he is a New Century kind of guy.  How can guy born in the 20th Century understand the perspective of a 21st Century kid?

As the great weather rolled on, some interesting things have been happening in the neighborhood. The following is a report on some of them:

New Book by Al Krause and Ruth Higgins

Al Krause and Ruth Higgins, our Birch Bay neighbors located a few houses to the south of my Morrison Avenue abode, have written a book entitled, Lessons from the Obama 2012 Grassroots Campaign. It was published at the end of 2012, and I finally got around to reading it in July. The book discusses their experience as volunteers for the Obama campaign in Northwest Washington State. While doing some valuable and important work organizing calls and other volunteer activities, they ran into some paid staffers who, at best, did not much help them do their work.  At worse, the staffers frustrated their efforts to the point that Al and Ruth resigned their volunteer positions and worked on other campaigns.

The book reminds me a bit of parts of another book that I recently read, Political Magic by Brenda Blagg, about Clinton’s “Arkansas Travelers.” This group of volunteers from Arkansas paid their own way to campaign in key states for Bill Clinton in 1992 and 1996. There they were often dismissed and/or distrusted by Clinton’s paid staff. I would venture to say that paid political staff members are often wary of capable volunteers because they view them as threats to their own little pockets of power. 

I enjoyed Al and Ruth’s nicely written book, which is a quick read, and am glad that their volunteer work gave them the opportunity to meet, and have a picture made with, Obama, even though it was frustrating in other ways. I have to say that I admire folks like Al and Ruth who volunteer their time to promote their political beliefs. Most other people are like me, viewing politics as a somewhat unsavory spectator event. We may care who wins, but not enough to make an effort to take part in the process. 

Below is a picture of Ruth and Al in the Blaine July 4th parade. Ruth is in the blue shirt holding the large banner. Al is walking behind the sign with a dark blue hat and a light blue sweater.

You can find Al and Ruth’s book (in both hard copy and e-book) at these links:

http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&field-author=Al%20Krause%20%2F%20Ruth%20Higgins&page=1&rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3AAl%20Krause%20%2F%20Ruth%20Higgins

http://books.google.com/books?id=l7YaIEYF7U4C&pg=PP1&lpg=PP1&dq=al+krause+ruth+higgins&source=bl&ots=FI74FDxj4g&sig=ZppWovOZnTcSuSsjnr90YmQ3AyY&hl=en&sa=X&ei=k4oFUqjOMe_wyAHB2oDgDw&ved=0CHwQ6AEwDA#v=onepage&q=al%20krause%20ruth%20higgins&f=false

Pat and Pat’s 50^th Wedding Anniversary

In late July, my neighbors across the street, Patrick and Patricia Alesse celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary with a gathering on land they own across the street (toward Terrell Creek) from the main C Shop building. This land is where a public market is held on weekends during the Summer. This lot is about 50 feet from my front door.

   

The Allesses are the long-time owners of the C Shop  http://www.thecshop.com/  
and valued members of the Birch Bay (and surrounding area) community. They raised two boys in Birch Bay after moving here from Syracuse, New York. The C shop is probably the most recognizable landmark in Birch Bay and is famous for its tasty home-made candy and other goodies.

The celebration was festive, but informal, with guests coming from as far as New York. It featured Patricia’s original wedding dress, a ride in the type of car they owned when they married, and a huge wedding cake like the one they had at their wedding. It also featured a fascinating display of pictures from the lives of the Pats and their family. 

I appreciated the invitation to join the celebration and am glad to be their neighbors. 

Pat and Pat with one of their sons. Her wedding dress is on her right

Pat and Pat in the car model they drove on their wedding day

Pat and Pat, with their two sons, drink a toast to their continued happiness.
The wedding cake is a replica of the one they had at their wedding 50 years ago

A.J. and Danielka Caught a Salmon in Terrell Creek

We had some excitement around here two weekends ago when Danielka and his friend A.J. (age 10) caught a large salmon in Terrell Creek. A.J. and his family live in the Birch Bay Drive condo next to where Danielka is staying this summer. The two caught a 15-18 inch salmon in Terrell Creek just down the bank from where the Pat and Pat wedding anniversary celebration took place. 

Danielka (dark shirt) and A.J. (red shirt) fish from Birch Bay Dr. bridge over
Terrell Creek

Catching the fish took them quite a while. They spotted it under the Terrell Creek Bridge (where Alderson St. meets Birch Bay Ave.) and tried unsuccessfully to get it with their fishing poles, then went in the shallow creek with a net. After a couple hours of a concentrated chase, A.J. netted the fish with Danielka’s help. 

Here is Danielka with the netted Salmon

The catch stirred quite a bit of excitement. Many people were surprised to find such a large salmon in Terrell Creek, though I have seen some leaping further up the river. The catch is a good sign that the efforts to restore the creek for Salmon migration is having some success.

A.J.and Danielka with their salmon

Decent Pulled-Pork Barbecue Comes to Whatcom County

I am happy to report that Birch Bayers finally has a decent place to get BBQ. It is found in a restaurant, Dickey's Barbecue Pit, in nearby Lynden, a Birch Bay suburb. The restaurant is located just south of the intersection of Meridian and Lynden-Birch Bay Roads, across the street from Safeway. It is decorated as a lower-middle-class eating place, and people from Georgia or Texas or Arkansas feel at home when visiting it.

Danielka and Oxana eat BBQ at Dickey's Barbecue Pit in Lynden

The restaurant is a chain; nevertheless, its pulled pork sandwich is the best I have had on this side of the Continental Divide. I can recommend its pulled pork sandwich (I haven’t tried other BBQ meats yet). I like the hot-ish barbecue sauce that is available to top the sandwich. Also, the “barbecue beans” dish is very tasty. As a bonus, Dickeys provides free self-service ice cream cones to conclude the meal.  

Godson Danielka and his mother Oxana are fans of Dickey's. Include me on the list.

The Big Three Events: July 4th Fireworks, the Blaine July 4th Parade and the Birch Bay Music Festival

A big part of the summer fun in Birch Bay are three events that happen each year. The first two take place on July 4th and bring the biggest crowds to the BB.  As usual, Birch Bay had a explosively spectacular July 4th with the beaches lined with folks shooting fireworks over the Bay. I like to describe this event as an anarchic ballet. I have written a couple of blogs about it. You should come to see it for yourself sometime. The blogs are at this links:
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2012/07/july-4-2012-birch-bay-celebrates-with.html

http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/07/how-birch-bay-celebrates-july-4th.html

I will not write more about the 2013 July 4th, but post below a few pictures of the event:

Before dark comes, some folks shoot roman candles over the Bay

A boy enjoys a sparkler on the beach

The crowd has assembled and is waiting for dark

Preparing a hot air balloon

When dark finally comes, Birch Bay's sky lights up

With the July 4th fireworks lighting up the Birch Bay night sky, it is a pleasure to prepare for the spectacle by attending the Blaine July 4th parade. The Birch Bay suburb of Blaine offers a state-of-art small city parade filled with local folks and their cars, tractors, politicians, businesses, and organizations. The day includes a pancake breakfast at the senior center, an exhibition of antique cars, and plenty of booths selling food and trinkets. Put it on your calendar for next July 4th if you are going to be in the area. It is the essence of Americana.  Here are a couple of pictures from the parade:

Boy Scouts march in the Blaine July 4th Parade

Honoring Veterans

Icelandic Heritage Society had many folks in the parade

Tractors were a big part of the parade

One young parade watcher gathered lots of candy tossed by passing floats

As I write this, the third event, the Birch Bay Music Festival, is booming in my ears. The Festival is held next to the C Shop, a few feet from my Morrison place. I get to hear all 18 bands from my living room.

This year is the third Birch Bay Music Festival. It gets bigger every year. In 2013, the Festival has 18 bands playing from 3:00 p.m. Friday to Sunday at 5:00 p.m. For the third year, I just heard Rebekah Ann Curtis sign and play her guitar. I always enjoy her music.

The place is crowded with booths, a small train ride for kids, and a music stage. Food is plentiful at the C Shop and the Bay Cafe across the street from the venue. The crowds seem more than ample for such a small space. 

You can read about the 2013 Birch Bay Music Festival at this website:  http://birchbaymusicfestival.com/

Danielka’s Visit

I will conclude the report on Summer 2013 in Birch Bay with news about the visit of Godson Daniekla, whose two-month visit will soon conclude, and he and his mother, Oxana, will return to their home in Podolsk, Russia. Danielka was recently bummed out to learn that, thanks to an order by Russian President V. Putin, he and all other Russian school kids will have to attend classes on Saturday during the coming year.

Thanks to Danielka’s visit, I now know more about the booming on-line game business. Danielka started the visit playing Wizards 101, which he greatly enjoyed. Now, however, he is enthralled with Mindcraft, especially Hunger Games. He especially enjoys playing on-line with multiple players using Skype to talk to friends who are in the game with him. The games have some downsides, like too much time with his butt in a seat, but they provide an incentive for him to improve his written English and spelling. His spoken English is now almost native.

One thing that Danielka wants very much is to have his own You Tube channel showing his computer gaming videos. He made some progress toward this goal: he now has the software needed to record, with commentary, games as they happen on a computer. He has made a couple of demos, and I expect that he will soon have his first You Tube video posted to his “Golden Redstone” channel.

Among the highlights of Danielka’s visit was a trip to San Diego, which I did not make. With his Aunt/Godmother Natalia leading the way, he and Oxana had a chance to visit Lego World, the San Diego Zoo, and the city’s great beaches. They had a great time.

Back in Birch Bay, Danielka and I went out most mornings to hit some tennis balls. Danielka is a good little athlete, so he has been learning steadily and now has developed some good basic shots that he is slowly coming to hit consistently. When he comes back next year, we will make some more progress.

Danielka playing tennis

As I show in the picture, I made Danielka wear a mask while playing tennis. It was his handicap to even out my age-related handicaps.  (Actually, the mask is a key part of the plot of the science fiction novel we are writing together. I describe this project a little latter in the blog.)

The first Saturday in August, Danielka attended the Pirate Days Camp as part of the Drayton Harbor Celebration in Blaine, a suburb of Birch Bay. He attended this event last year and greatly enjoyed it. This year was also fun. With his mother’s help, he put together a good pirate outfit, and he practiced his “Aargs” and other pirate talk. 

Pirate Danielka with his Aunt Natalia

The group of kids attending the Pirate Days event were a good looking group. It is hard not to smile when you see kids dressed up as pirates. Here are a few of the young pirates we saw at Drayton Harbor. 

One of the youngest pirates

Winner of one of the best pirate costume award

AJ. and Danielka

In the crowded summer, another event we enjoyed was a visit to the Whatcom Art Museum in Bellingham, a southern suburb of Birch Bay. In truth, we were not too thrilled by the apocalyptic art in the exhibition entitled "Nature in the Balance: Artists Interpreting Climate Change." A room stuffed with amateur "message" art (aka agitprop), even if you agree with the message, can be too much. After a while, we had to start laughing at the unending flow of grim messages in the exhibition. My advice: get rid of 90 percent of the paintings and exhibit only the best. The message will be conveyed with much more power and clarity than the hodge-podge of art now on the walls. 

Danieka and the bottom third of one of the
paintings at the Whatcom Art Museum

One of the few paintings I liked in the exhibition entitled
"Nature in the Balance: Artists Interpreting Climate Change"
at the Whatcom Art Museum

Although we were not too thrilled by the museum's main art exhibition, we did enjoy a new historical exhibit the museum is offering at its galleries in the Old City Hall. This one is titled "Treasure from the Trunk: The Story of J.J. Donovan." It documents the story of one of Bellingham's most important citizens in the first part of the 20th century. 

We also appreciate the Art Museum's offering of a history cruise around Bellingham Bay, which we greatly enjoyed. The tour lasts for 2 1/2 hours and is narrated by a historian who tells interest elements of the history of the city and county as the boat glides about the Bay. The night of our cruise has perfect weather, so we had some spectacular views of the Bellingham, Fairhaven, and Mt. Baker. We were wowed by what we saw.

Here are a few shots from the boat:

Bellingham Old City Hall (Red Building) and Mt. Baker

Fairhaven area of Bellingham (The grey building in the front on the water is one of the few remaining buildings of the American-Pacific Fisheries Cannery, which a century ago was the largest Pacific salmon processing cannery in the world

Danielka, Natalia, and Oxana enjoy the cruise

A Bellingham seal watches us watch him

One other thing that Danielka and I have been working on this summer: a book titled “Kaboy the Magician and the Intergalactic Locusts.” We have the plot worked out and three chapters drafted. The book is about a young boy, a visitor from Russia, in Birch Bay who discovers that he is destined to lead the fight against an invasion by the seemingly invincible Intergalactic Locusts, marauders from a planet in another galaxy who periodically invade planets like earth to gather valuable resources for their own use. To be successful, Kaboy must use secrets passed on to him by The Magicians, highly intelligent beings who nearly 14,000 years ago discovered too late how the Locusts could be defeated and, as their people perished, found a way to transmit those secrets for use on earth when the Locusts returned. 

Look for it soon at your local Amazon store.

It has been a great summer in Birch Bay. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to return to the Birch Bay Music Festival to listen to more music.

Misfortune Befalls a German Vintner in Conway, 1894

In several previous posts, I have provided translated versions of "Pioneer Tales" that were published in the Arkansas Echo, a German language weekly newspaper published in Arkansas from 1891 until 1932.  The "Pioneer Tales" were mostly stories of misfortunes that had befallen German-speaking immigrants soon after their arrival in the state. Most stories were written by immigrants who had learned from their tenderfoot mistakes and had become successful residents of their chosen state.

Arkansas Echo ad for a Little Rock Saloon

The following newspaper story, published in the June 10, 1894 edition of the Arkansas Echo, shows that the lives of German-speaking immigrants did not always have a happy ending. It is about the murder of a German-speaking immigrant from Switzerland named Paul Loetscher, who had settled in Conway in 1870 when it consisted of a few dwellings and people. 

Loetscher made his living growing grapes and selling wine, apparently operating a drinking establishment at his farm. However, Arkansas had an active prohibition movement, and in 1871 the state had passed a law allowing local referenda on proposals to ban saloons within three miles of schools and colleges. Such a referendum had been held in Conway and it passed. 

This restriction of the sale of alcoholic drinks did not affect Loetscher until the first part of the 1890s when Hendrix College moved from Altus to Conway. Apparently, Loetscher's farm was less than three miles from the new college and it became illegal for him to sell his wine. As a result, he had a hard time making a living. 

Arkansas Echo ad for Fallstaff Beer 1894

On Saturday, May 26, 1894, two men living in the small town near Conway, drunk, decided to go to Loetscher's farm to get wine from him. He was not there when they arrived, but one of them, Joe Luke, ended up beating his wife with a hoe and then severely injuring him with the same hoe when he came a few minutes later. After that, Luke and his partner went to the local sheriff to tell him that Loetscher had sold him wine. The sheriff wanted to drag the severely injured man in immediately for a trial, but because of his severe injuries he could not go. The trial was postponed the trail until the following Tuesday. Loetscher, suffering from life-threatening injuries was brought to court and convicted of illegally selling an alcoholic drink. He was fined $200 and court costs. His assailants were not charged with any crime. 

Loetscher died from his injuries less than a week after the trial.  

The outrage of the person who wrote this story for the Arkansas Echo is clear. Perhaps as a result of the outcry following the death, the governor offered a reward for the arrest of Luke, who had fled to Texas. Another story in the Echo a couple of weeks later said that the Conway County Sheriff Wilson had tracked Luke down in Texas, near Decatur, arrested him, and brought him back. Apparently, according to the story, the sheriff was having a hard time collecting the reward money from the governor.  

I have been unable to locate information about Luke's trial and punishment. 

Here is the translated story:

******************************************

Arkansas Echo, June 10, 1894, p. 1

Correspondenz

Conway, Ark

Liebes Echo!

Last Monday, Peter Paul Loetscher died. The deceased was born in Canton Appenzel, Switzerland and had reached the age of about 50 years. He came with his wife in the year 1870 to Arkansas and settled a homestead which today lays inside the city limits of Conway. The region was then in a primordial state and hardly anyone had heard of Conway. Amid the many difficulties and hardships, he cultivated his land, but the worst problem was that he was not conversant in English and there were no Germans to be found in the vicinity.

When at the end of the 70’s more Germans settled in Conway, he was prepared to provide advice and help; he was long valued as an authority on many things, especially on the topic of wine making. He had  established a splendid wine garden and lived happily and contentedly in his own way with his family, until the College was built here, for which he himself was taxed a handsome sum.

Because without selling wine he could not feed his family with his farm income, he resisted desperately. He was hounded like a beast. Spies were on the lookout day and night. He was convicted every time he was accused, proof or no proof. The city mayor had no compunction (pangs of conscious) in dealing with him.

Through all of these inflammatory deeds, he came at last to the point where he was, according to what I observed, no longer responsible for his actions.  I will now report on his tragic end, which I followed here.

On May 26^th, two men filled themselves with whisky: Thompson, a gentle old man and Luck [2] a young guy who was barely 20 years old. They said as they left the city that they were going to go to Loetscher because they wanted wine, and if he didn’t give it to them, they would beat him up. 

When they arrived, Loetscher was not there. His wife told them that she could not sell or give them any wine. They saw in the corner a Krug (a type of mug) that held wine. Luck grabbed it and began to take off. A small boy, one of Loetscher’s sons, tried to stop him from taking the Krug, so Luck grabbed him and held him against his side with one hand and carried the Krug in the other, taking both about 100 yards away.

Loetscher’s wife ran after him and told him to let the boy go. He kicked her in a leg that had been aching for years.

Meanwhile, the boy grabbed the Krug and ran with it to the house. Loetscher’s wife told Luck that he ought to go away and leave them alone. Then he grabbed a cotton hoe and hit her in the head with it so that she collapsed, and he also hacked both arms down to the bone.

Meanwhile a farmhand working nearby came and tried to tackle the guy, but Luck turned to him with the raised hoe, so the man turned tail and ran. Luck chased him for a quarter of a mile. Loetscher’s wife washed the blood off her face and screamed for her husband. As Luck returned from his hunt, Loetscher appeared on the scene armed with a dragoon saber that he waved around, cutting through the air.  

But Luck hit his arm with the hoe, breaking it, and then struck him on his head with the sharp edge of the hoe.  Loetscher fell on his face.  Luck hit him again and again in the back until the hoe broke into five pieces.

After the heroic deed was done, the two men went into the city and it informed Major Martin that they had procured wine from Loetscher.  He immediately sent the Marshall to bring Loetscher to stand before the court. But Loetscher was in no condition to go on his own and wanted to wait until Tuesday.  Then they dragged the half-dead man to court. He stood there with his fractured skull, broken arms, and badly bruised back asking for mercy. And what was the verdict?  A two hundred dollar fine and costs. But the murderers were let go.  Loetscher appealed to the Circuit Court and posted bond.

Here is what the local “Populist” has to say about it [the paragraphs below were written in English]:

As reported in last week’s issue, Joe Luke assaulted P.P. Loetcher last Saturday a week. Loetcher took to his bed shortly afterward, and died early Monday morning. Coroner Phillips assisted by assistant Prosecuting Attorney Geo. Shaw held an inquest Monday and the Jury returned a sealed verdict the effect of which can only be guessed at as the officers and jury would not say what it is.

A post mortem examination was held and the autopsy made by Drs. Brannon and Voris showed that Loetcher’s skull had been severely fractured on the left side, there was also a severe bruise on the right side of the spine just over the kidney and the small bone of the left arm was broken. The testimony showed that the wounds were inflicted with an old hoe in hands of Luke.

Loetcher was a native of Switzerland and he had lived here for over twenty years being one of the oldest citizens here. His remains were buried in Oak Grove Cemetery.

Luke is a young man who lived at Mayflower. He has not been apprehended although the presumption is that the coroner’s Jury by its verdict found him guilty of the murder.”

After he died, the Deputy Prosecutor sent his body to the coroner and for a postmortem examination. The result was: a fractured skull, smashed ribs and collapsed lungs, along with a broken arm. Only then did they want to arrest the young man, but he was already over the mountains. If a good reward is not offered for his arrest, he will never be caught.

So justice will be measured when such fanatics come to power.

J. L.

[1] The Arkansas Echo spelled his name as Loetscher, but the English language article quoted below spelled his name “Loetcher.” 

[2]  The Arkansas Echo article calls the young man “Luck,” but according to the English language article his name was “Luke.”

Gagging on the July 4th: A Hot Dog Eating Competition

I'm pretty much of a live- and let-live kind of guy. When I see people doing something I don't approve of, I usually shrug my shoulders or shake my head and move on. If it seems silly or stupid, I suppress my chuckles until they can no longer be heard, and I file away a memory of the occurrence to include in some funny story to tell to friends.

Live and let live, I say. Respect, or at least don't disrespect, choices that you would not make, as long as the choices don't inflict harm on others.

However, on the morning of July 4th (Pacific Daylight Time), my tolerance of the stupid behavior of others was severely challenged when I accidentally tuned ESPN's telecast of "Nathan's Famous Fourth of July Hot Dog" contest. The few minutes I watched of this "Major League Eating" contest were a revelation of the depth of idiocy afoot. If you want to test the fortitude of your stomach when confronted with gag-inducing sights (and the limits of your live-and-let-live tolerance), click on this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzBUl3fZ_nc&feature=youtu.be

The "Food Athletes" begin the hot-dog eating competition. Note the four rules of the contest.

I had not planned to watch television that morning, but as I waited on a 11-year-old boy to eat breakfast and get dressed to go to see a parade, I decided to check out which baseball games were going to be telecast that day. The television was tuned to ESPN, and the announcer was breathlessly introducing the contestants for what was described as a momentous "professional eating" event. The commentator was explaining that Joey Chestnut had won the event the two previous years, and a third win would be a historic achievement.

I had not heard of "professional eating" events, nor was I aware of the International Federation of Competitive Eating (aka, Major League Eating), which sanctions 80 competitive eating events each year. An event is won by the person who eats the most of a particular food within a specified time. Among the foods featured in upcoming competitions are: pastrami, fish tacos, kimchi, buffalo wings, oysters, and gyoza. Cash prizes are awarded to the winners. The website for this International Federation is:  http://www.ifoce.com/about.php . (Note: I would like to think that the IFOCE is a satire of the NFL, MLB, and NBA and the obscenely wealthy people involved in the professional sports industries who have turned kid's games into fortunes. However, the federation is likely just another organization to market products.)

As I watched, the event started, and within a couple of minutes, I was yelling at the television, "Stop, please stop." Both I and the mother of the lagging eleven-year-old were watching, bug-eyed, the most awful thing I have seen on television. We could not keep our eyes on the television for more than a few seconds without wincing and turning away, but just as you HAVE to look when you pass the scene of a car wreck, we kept peeking back at the screen and saying things such as "yuk," "sick," "I can't believe this," "make it stop," and "I can't stand it."

At 2 minutes and 49 seconds into the contest, Joey Chestnut enjoys his 27th hot dog  

Truthfully, there is nothing enjoyable about watching sweating, grimacing men dunking a hot dog and a bun in water (no more than 5 seconds allowed) and forcing it, with a few cursory chews, down their gullets. From their expressions, it is clear that they are not savoring the gustatory experience. The event seems to have more to do with sword swallowing that eating.

At last, after a couple of minutes, we could no long stand to watch what was happening. I turned off the television, not learning if Joey Chestnut had forced enough partially eaten hot dogs down his throat to achieve a historic third victory. (The IFOCE website informs readers that Chestnut not only won the event, but set a new world record by eating 69 hot dogs in ten minutes. That is 6.9 hot dogs per minute, less than ten seconds per hot dog.)

After watching this ESPN event, my customary tolerance was strained. I had to wonder how low a network has fallen to air such a sickening spectacle, which has, best I can determine, no redeeming value. I had to wonder about a society in which such events are popular enough to be aired on television.

With the television off and the contest a bad memory, I drove with the 11-year-old boy and his mother to the Blaine July 4th celebration. The boy decided that he wanted to have lunch before the parade started at noon, so we found a booth selling old fashion American food. Of course, the boy chose to eat a hot dog for lunch. When I saw that, I almost had a "reversal of fortune," which would have broken the fourth rule of  hot dog eating competition.

Pioneer Tales: Pleasant Memories

Arkansas Echo

March 9, 1894 and March 16, 1894

“It is amazing,” an American recently said to me, “how times can change. Earlier, when the first Germans came here, a person could now and then make a good deal with an old horse or donkey or an old cow. Now it is totally the opposite. Now the Germans sell us their old, discarded horses, donkeys, and cows.”

Yes, I thought, that good man in entirely right. That is the way things happened in the past, as experienced by many of us. As you know, when a person settles somewhere, before everything else he must worry about a work animal, be it a horse or donkey or even a cow. For most of us, our resources were so limited that an expensive, that is, good, animal was at first not imaginable. That was the way it was for me.

Arkansas Echo ad for horse and mule sales, 1894

My pocketbook was in no condition to permit me a $100 horse or donkey. I had to look around for something cheaper. And I ran onto one. I bought a horse for $50 from an American. It was supposed to be about 10 years old, but later turned out to be 18. I did not know anything about horses and bought it because it looked pretty good. The man had obtained it eight months earlier in exchange for an old cow, and he had cleverly fattened and prettied it up.

The nag could have lasted a long time if I only had had a good corn trough and not such heavy work. We began in the woods and soon a strong horse was needed, especially with the plowing. I could not help the old nag. It really had to do more that I could have expected from it; of course I did too, so we could console each other. But with force, it came around and afterwards, when I had corn myself and did not need to buy more, I could not get him on his feet.

I could not sell or trade him, but I needed to acquire another work animal. Again one day an American came to me with a six-year-old donkey to sell cheaply, ridiculously cheaply, for $25, on credit.

I thought, it costs nothing to look and went there. He had the donkey in the yard and I immediately noticed that the fellow hobbled more on three than four legs. The man insisted that did not bother him at all when he was working: he could do anything. I wanted to have him on a bridle once since that is how one could see how agile the fellow was and how he could run. It took us a long time to get him into the bridle.

Then I thought to myself, if you can run like that, then your hobble doesn't bother you much, and $25 isn't too much money. I took the bait, signed the note, and climbed on the donkey, and rode for home.

Oh no, screamed my wife, shocked, as she saw us coming. What kind of animal are you bringing home? It has only three legs, or at most 3 ½. You will never get rid of that in all your life. And I had noticed that the forth leg was shorter than the others during the trip. He dragged it behind. I scratched my head: I had it and had to keep it. The American was laughing up his sleeve.

Arkansas Echo ad for farm machinery and wagons

So I had now increased my livestock by one, progress already. But if I had expected to be better able to do my work, I was making a mistake, as I very soon discovered. Of course, I could harness it to anything, to the wagon, to the plow, also to ride. But it couldn’t have been harder if I had pulled those things myself. Luckily, by nature I have a good amount of patience, although often enough, I would have happily wished they were (as my friend Gottlieb would have said) in Jericho.

There is an old saying: in emergencies, the devil eats flies (i.e., beggars can’t be choosers). Flies I did not swallow, but certainly a lot of irritation. I still have a secret horror when I remember that time. I had to use Pat – I had so named him – for transportation to the mill or to the store or to other places. And I had him trained so that I could hang the bridle on his neck and then drive him in front of me.

One time I had ridden to the store where I had bought various things, among them 10 pounds on meal and a side of bacon. I packed all of the stuff on Pat’s back, put the bridle on and drove him in front of me.

Just then, an oxen driver came by us and cracked a whip, and crash, my Pat jumped, threw off everything, and took to its heels.

Part 2

I naturally went after it. Sure enough when I had soon caught up, it turned around and went into a gallop. Now it had to go through a long, narrow lane (a lane is the name of a path that has railing on both sides). If someone were at the other end, I could easily trap it. And luckily someone just then traveled by. I called and he saw what was happening. The man jumped from the wagon and went in the right direction so that he could cut off my Pat at the pass. Then I could catch hold of it by the collar.

As I got hold of it, I was overwhelmed by anger. I picked up a piece of wood and beat it over the ears. Oh pain! My Pat fell down and gave up the ghost, not making a sound. So it appeared to me. Well, said the man, you have beaten it to death. And so it appeared to me. However, in a little while, Pat perked his ears and all of a sudden, he struggled onto his feet and was within a hair of slipping away again.

Arkansas Echo ad for wholesale grocery story

I went back with it to pack up the things again. As I came into view of the place where my Pat had thrown off his load, I saw, to my horror, a sow with her young pigs giving the goods a close investigation.

My rebellious Pat let himself be pulled about by the reins like an old cow. I tied him quickly on a bush and ran as fast as I could to the pigs. I called and screamed as loudly as I could: sic’em, sic’em, sic’em. At last, the sow took to her heels, with bacon in her mouth, to the woods. And I went after it in order, where possible, to save the bacon, since it had cost me 17 ½ cents a pound. And I recaptured it, but in a condition that no one can easily imagine.

Now back to my Pat and the other things. Oh how that looked -- everything tangled up and strewn about. The meal sack had a couple of holes large enough to stick my fist into. And I had a half hour of work to do to make the necessary repairs in the sack and again load it. Then I led my Pat very nicely by the reins home without any further accidents.

Little by little, I had improved my circumstances so much that I could entertain the thought of procuring for once a regular work animal. But first I had to shake loose from the old baggage. With the nag, I was lucky and after a time, I dealt him for an old cow.

Things didn’t go so fast with Pat. Nobody wanted to take the bait!. Finally, I found an American who would give me three sheep for it. Happy to get anything, I considered it briefly and gave it to the man to take with him. The sheep were running around in the woods. And the man wanted to bring them to me within a week. But one morning, after 3 or 4 days, Pat was standing again before the door. I thought it had jumped out of the pen of the American since, despite its three legs, the thing could still do that.  Since I saw the poor fellow was hungry, I gave him a good meal and then sent him back with one of my kids.

The boy returned with the information that the man would not want that donkey even if it were given to him as a present. So I had my beloved Pat again and I had to feed him throughout the winter. And I had no prospect of somehow getting rid of him.

Arkansas Echo ad: Drink Fallstaff Bottled Beer

Early in the year, I succeeded in selling it again and to be sure to an American for a fat swine that was supposed to weigh 150 pounds. The next morning I went immediately to the man and as I saw the 150 pound pig, it appeared to me that it was a little too small for 150 pounds. I told the American that a person could not really call such a swine a 150 pounder, since the swine could not have weighed 125 pounds, and that I should receive an extra farrow. All right, I said, I’ll aim the swine in the right direction and drive it home. I would have taken it if it weighed only 25 pounds. A couple of days later, I slaughtered it and it weighed not more or less that 65 pounds. Go ahead, I thought; at least I was fortunately free from my 3-legged Pat.

I resolved in the future to no longer be involved with such old beasts, but once it happened again that I got stuck with such an old dromedary, something I will tell about at another time.

****************************************

Introduction to the Pioneer Tales
This pioneer tale is one in a series published in 1893 and 1894 by theArkansas Echo, a German-language newspaper in Little Rock. The stories are intended to show the challenges and adventures facing German-speaking immigrants when they came to settle in Arkansas. So far, the following posts have introduced the Pioneer Tales and provided translations of most of them:
Pioneer Tales of Arkansas' German Immigrants (background of the newspaper series)
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, November 3, 1893. THE GOOD OLD DAYS?http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_17.html

Arkansas Echo, November 10, 1893
MERRY MÄT, OR A TRIP TO THE BATHS, Part 1
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_21.html

Arkansas Echo, November 17, 1893
MERRY MÄT, OR A TRIP TO THE BATHS, Part 2
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/05/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_31.html

Arkansas Echo, December 1, 1893
A JUICY ROAST--OR--WHO WANTS TO EAT WITH ME?
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, December 8, 1893
ANOTHER PIECE ABOUT "AUGUST" --OR -- LONG FENCE RAILS
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_08.html

Arkansas Echo, December 22, 1893
HOW FRANK, WITHOUT POWDER AND LEAD, ONCE SLEW A MAGNIFICENT DEER
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_10.html

Arkansas Echo, December 29, 1893
ERNST'S BAD LUCK
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/06/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german_17.html

Arkansas Echo, January 5, 1894
THAT'S THE WAY ITS DONE IN HUNGARY -or- A PERSON WHO WILL NOT ACCEPT ADVICE CANNOT BE HELPED
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/07/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, January 12, 1894
HOW ONE CAN LOSE ONE'S WAY IN THE PRIMEVAL FOREST
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/09/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, January 19, 1894
BILL’S TRIP TO THE MARKET 
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2011/10/pioneer-tales-of-arkansas-german.html

Arkansas Echo, January 26, 1894. THE WAY YOU PUSH THINGS, SO THEY WILL GO (OR, YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW)
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2013/01/the-way-you-push-things-so-they-will-go.html

Arkansas Echo, February 9, 1894. MY FIRST DEER HUNT
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2013/04/my-first-deer-hunt.html

Arkansas Echo, February 23, 1894 and March 2, 1894
JOSEPH GLANZMANN'S STORY OF GERMAN-SPEAKING IMMIGRANTS 
SETTLING NEAR ALTUS, ARKANSAS
http://www.eclecticatbest.com/2012/10/pioneer-tales-joseph-glanzmanns-story.html


All Rights Reserved