Groundhog Day in the Journal – 1953 & 1963

Well, it's Groundhog Day – always a fun time on this blog seeing how the holiday played out in the Journal over the years. I've devoted many posts to it, with vintage postcards (such as the one above) dressing up the proceedings.

The Journal didn't always acknowledge Groundhog Day. Sometimes the goings-on in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania made the front page; other years it was ignored entirely.

The paper didn't always go with what Punxsutawney Phil predicted either. A Lorain groundhog was enlisted at least a few times.

And one of those times was on Groundhog Day, 1953, when the Journal editor had some fun with the holiday. In the whimsical article, he hires Woody Woodchuck of Lorain as a freelancer reporter of sorts to get his thoughts on the holiday.

Below is a transcribed version of the story for easier reading.

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Groundhog Explodes Old Myth, Shows Religious Connection

EDITOR'S NOTE: The following consists of a correspondence exchange between the editor of The Journal and Mr. Woody Woodchuck. We believe the letters themselves are more appropriate to use today than would be any story which could be written from them.

• • •

Mr. Woodchuck

13 Pasture Drive, Brown's Farm, Lorain, O.

Dear Woody,

This is written in haste and serves a dual purpose: (A) – It's an apology and (B) – it's a request.

Now, as you know, in past years we've managed to free a reporter from his duties for a whole day, just to interview you on Feb. 2, commonly known as "Groundhog Day." This year we find our reporters are all tied up with other matters and we'd like to ask if you might drop us a line or two, furnishing us with your views on said Groundhog Day.

I you can think of anything else which might be of interest, please add that, but keep it short. We'll expect to pay you for anything you send in and we print.

Cordially,

Mal Hartley,

Editor

• • • 

Mr. Mal Hartley,

Lorain Journal,

Lorain, O.

Dear Mal:

Enjoyed hearing from you today. Haven't heard anything from you since you fell in the entrance hole of my No. 5 den last spring. Couldn't have printed what I heard then anyhow, so guess it's for the best.

Be that as it may, I started to tear up your letter and give it to Mr. and Mrs. Field Mouse next door to use in lining the walls of their new nest (they're buying under the new FHA regulations, you know) when I happened to see the word 'pay' in it.

• • • 

To make a long story short, this has been a pretty rough winter on me – lots of guests dropping in and all that, and I can use some extra cash. Besides, my wife's brother, Goober Groundhog, dropped in for a short visit and has been with us all winter. (We call him Goober because he's nuts.)

I haven't had the education to write the high caliber kind of stuff you print in the Journal, so I'll just give you some facts about this Groundhog Day business and you can do it up as you please.

For one thing, there's a screwy take circulating about that Feb. 2 is the day we woodchucks are supposed to come out of hibernation to see the approach of spring. Well, that's certainly a wacky story to begin with, one any sensible person would laugh at.

Who cares to leave a nice warm bed just to satisfy an ancient superstition? So that's point No. 1. There "ain't no sech day."

If I see my shadow, that's supposed to mean I'll dive back underground and wait for six weeks of rugged weather. If the day is cloudy, however, I'm supposed to believe the next six weeks will be extremely mild. 

Well, you can see for yourself how stupid that is. If it were nice and sunny I'd stay above ground and – well, spring's on the way and there is a good looking little two-year-old over in Joe Williams' pasture. Shared an apple with her one day last fall. Sure is a cute little – oops. Sorry. That doesn't fit with the story, does it?

Anyhow, Groundhog Day is just a superstition. But you probably don't know, is that it's also known as Candlemas and has a religious significance.

Candlemas, that same old Feb. 2, is in commemoration of the presentation of Christ in the Temple. In the West it's known as the "Purification of the Blessed Virgin."

I don't know too much about all this, but my great grandfather, Wilbur Woodchuck, told us that Candlemas used to be on Feb. 14 (now your Valentine Day). You see, that was 40 days after Epiphany and the Armenians still celebrate that day.

But way back after Dec. 25 was finally picked as Christmas, Candlemas was moved to Feb. 2, 40 days after Christmas. In the East it's a festival of Christ and in the West a festival of the Virgin Mother.

I'll admit it's kind of hard to see how a religious observance ties in with Groundhog Day, but this is an American variation of the old tradition in the Christian world that a sunny Candlemas means a cold spring.

As the Scotch say, "If Candlemas is fair and clear, there will be two winters in the year." And here in American, way across the ocean, farmers will tell you, "February, second day, have half your corn and half your hay." That's so the animals will still have food left for the cold spell farmers think'll be coming along.

Maybe this hasn't been just what you wanted, but if it fills the purpose, just pay me off in grass or some other vegetables. I'm feeling kind of hungry after this long nap I just concluded!

Sincerely,

Woody Woodchuck

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Ten years later, the Journal decided to stick with Punxsutawney Phil's forecast, rather than hire local woodchuck talent. Here's the news item that appeared on the front page of the paper on February 2, 1963. Just as he would in 2023 earlier today, Phil predicted six more weeks of winter