Sunday is Groundhog Day! It's nice, because we can watch the festivities on TV live from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania without worrying about getting to work on time. It's always interesting see which Weather Channel personality gets to make the trip.
One of these days I'm gonna make that trip to Punxsutawney. (I know, I keep saying that.) It's on my bucket list (along with a lot of other intriguing activities requiring road trips, such as eating at the last Yogi Bear's Honey Fried Chicken, located in Hartsville, South Carolina).
I thought it was interesting that as far back as 1925, the Lorain Journal was mentioning Punxsutawney in its Groundhog Day coverage. Here's the front page story from Feb. 2, 1925 (below). As noted in comments left on past Groundhog Day posts, the critter didn't get the 'Phil' moniker until much later. Note how other cities also received some coverage for their groundhogs, including Detroit.
Even Lorain's arch rival Elyria received a Groundhog Day mention in the Journal in 1925.
There was no Groundhog Day coverage of Punxsutawney on Feb. 2, 1935 but a front page Journal story noted, "If tradition means anything, Lorain can look forward to an early spring because the groundhog failed to see his shadow today – traditional Groundhog Day.
It was a snowy Groundhog Day in Lorain in 1945, with snow blocking secondary roads and with a high of 21 degrees. Nevertheless, Lorain's Groundhog saw his shadow. The story was the same in Punxsutawney, as noted in the Journal story below from Feb. 2, 1945.
The Lorain Journal apparently ignored Groundhog Day 1955. Oh well, some years were like that.
But ten years later, the paper mentioned both of Pennsylvania's famous furry forecasters: Punxsutawney Phil and the one at Quarryville. As a bonus, we get a photo of Woody, a groundhog who lives in Chicago's Lincoln Park Zoo.
And even the Journal editorial from that day couldn't resist getting in on the fun.
Seventy years ago this month, the headline of the January 31, 1955 Lorain Journal had some big news that would impact countless businesses located on Lake Road (U.S. 6 and State Route 2) between Lorain and Vermilion.
"Three hundred parcels of land will be sliced this year and many buildings moved when the state highway department widens Lake Rd., extending 8.9 miles between Lorain and Vermilion," the article noted.
"The extensive slicing of properties, including some buildings, became known today when state highway officials revealed the highway will be widened from the existing 30 feet to 52 feet."
The widening of Lake Road really changed the landscape forever, completely wiping out some businesses that were located very close to the highway. Other businesses were isolated with the creation of those odd frontage roads.
The highway widening has been a regular topic on this blog, with posts covering a variety of aspects of it, including: reaction by highway property owners (including the Pueblo) to the announcement of the widening (here); how the Bohemian Tavern was affected (here); and how Fior's Lake Road Spaghetti House was impacted (here).
Elsewhere on the front page: the first appearance of Dennis the Menace in the Journal; some Lorainites put their personal safety on ice (literally) by taking a stroll on frozen Lake Erie; and a former Lorainite makes the FBI's 10 Most-wanted list.
Sixty years ago, there was a lot of spying going on when it came to area movie screens. One of the very best in the James Bond series – Goldfinger – was playing at both the Palace in Lorain and the Avon Lake Theater, thus dominating the Journal movie page above from January 13, 1965. (Remember when the release of a new James Bond film was a major event? And when it eventually was shown on TV, it was something you stayed up all the way to 11 o'clock to see.)
Meanwhile, the "Carry On" gang had their spoof of the James Bond films: Carry On Spying, which was playing at the Ohio Theatre. (I'm always a little surprised to see the 'Carry On' films playing in Lorain.
Meanwhile, Cary Grant was starring in his next-to-last film, the classic Father Goose, showing at the Tivoli.
Elsewhere on the page: a group calling themselves The Ink Spots was performing at Benny's on West Erie Ave., but it wasn't the original group (which disbanded in the 1950s) and most likely had no original members at all; there were still some Hoop Restaurants that hadn't been converted to Manners Restaurants; and a nice story about three generations of an Avon Lake family all bowling on the same Ladies' League at Aquamarine Lanes.
Being born in 1959, I was a little too young to remember the original television run of Howdy Doody, which ran from 1947 to 1960. The popular children's television show featured host "Buffalo Bob" Smith and his freckle-faced puppet Howdy Doody, Clarabell the mute clown (who communicated by honking horns) and a variety of other characters, both human and puppet.
Although Howdy and the gang were nearing the end of their TV run in January 1959, I'm sure that the appearance of Clarabell at Oakwood Shopping Center was still a big deal – especially since he was accompanied by local TV host, Barnaby. Barnaby's show (which featured made-for-TV Popeye cartoons) and Howdy Doody were both on KYW Channel 3.
Here's the tall ad promoting the big event. It ran in the Lorain Journal on January 29, 1959.
I'm not sure if it was the real Clarabell (Lew Anderson) making the appearance with Barnaby, or just someone hired to wear the clown makeup and impersonate him. The Journal from the day after the joint appearance was unavailable, so I'm not sure.
(It reminded me of a story my mother told me. She had taken my sister all the way to Halle's in Cleveland on the bus to see Mr. Jingeling – only to find out that the guy who played him on TV wasn't at the store the day they went there; it was some other actor. Mom said my sister wasn't fooled and was pretty unhappy about it.)
Anyway, click here to read an extremely comprehensive and well-written story about the Howdy Doody show.
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"Big Chuck" Schodowski's passing a few days ago was a sad reminder to those of us who grew up watching and enjoying The Hoolihan and Big Chuck Show on Channel 8 (and later, Big Chuck and Lil' John) that we're all getting older and time is marching on. It's hard not to be a little sad seeing these old friends like Big Chuck that we welcomed into our homes for so many years pass away; they're almost like family.
One of the casualties of the decline of newspapers in general is the disappearance of local interest columns. Although the columnists were often non-professional writers not on the payroll of the newspaper, they nevertheless provided an invaluable inside look at a topic or aspect of life that hitherto had been off-limits to the general public.
A column along those lines that appeared regularly in the Lorain Journal from the late 1950s until the end of the 1960s was "Farm Wife's Window," written by Ethelberta Hartman of Berlin Heights. Her topics included farming, gardening, wildlife, and anything else that she thought might be of interest to her readers.
She became a farm widow shortly after she started writing her column, and many of her stories revolve around the running of the farm by her and her sons.
I posted one of her columns from 1962 back here in 2022, which discussed red wing blackbirds.
Recently I ran across a few of her columns while reviewing some vintage January editions of the Lorain Journal. Here's an ample sample from the 1950s and 60s which includes a variety of topics. They're all well-written and provide a point of view that is becoming scarcer as the number of farms continue to shrink.
This column from January 9, 1958 explores a topic many of us have wondered about: "What Do Farmers Do In The Winter Time?"
Her January 16, 1958 column entitled, "Feeding Station Battle Seems To Go On And On" tells the story of a bird feeder built by her son David.
A charming walk in the woods is the subject of her January 8, 1959 column.
Ethel returns to a favorite topic – birds – in her January 15, 1959 column. Like me, her favorite seems to be the cardinal.
Her January 23, 1959 column reveals how corned beef and cabbage was cooked in the early 1900s. Her reference to Dinty Moore near the end of the column refers to a tavern owner in the Bringing Up Father comic strip (who prepared Corned Beef and Cabbage), not the line of prepared meals by Hormel.
The weather-forecasting groundhog is mentioned in the January 29, 1959 column, "Secret Superstition Found In Everyone."
Ethelberta's column from January 28, 1960 is of particular interest to me. She writes about, well, writing: how it is often a problem coming up with topics, how she chooses topics, and how her sons feel about being the subject of her columns. She also notes how reading various newspapers, magazines and books is a critical part of her preparation.
Lastly, here's her column from January 16, 1965. It provides a nice historical perspective of how a housewife made an angel food cake in pioneer days. Does anyone out there still make an angel food cake from scratch?
One hundred years ago today on January 24, 1925, Lorain witnessed a solar eclipse, as noted on the front page of the Lorain Journal above.
"Against a light blue back drop, in skies that were marvelously clear for Lorain spectators, the sun and the moon staged their famous eclipse act this morning.
"Hundreds of Lorainites braved freezing temperatures, determined to have a look at an astronomical performance which will not be repeated in these parts for 200 years.
"During the sun's dazzle, many reported seeing the eclipse without the aid of smoked glasses. Better results, however, were obtained by gazing thru a piece of smoked glass or a strip of exposed camera film.
"An early morning rush was reported of purchasers of dark glasses.
"Street car conductors supplied themselves with pieces of smoked glass for the accommodation of travelers, and a Broadway photographer passed out pieces of exposed film to passers-by.
"By 8:30 the moon had covered about a third of the sun's surface and the bright light began to fade. This continued until a few minutes after 9, when the eclipse was at its zenith here, 97 percent of the sun being hidden. While there was plenty of light, the gloom was pronounced.
"The sun appeared as a thin crescent, which gradually reversed itself as the moon moved off. Then the sun began to grow larger and the light increased, until by 9:30 the eclipse was over, so far as Lorain was concerned, for another couple of centuries."
What a difference a hundred years makes. Looking at a solar eclipse (even a partial one) directly, or thru smoked glass or film negatives would be considered unsafe. And I'm not sure why the article implies that it would be 200 years before the next one.
Last year's total solar eclipse in our area in April 2024 was an unbelievable event. Originally I wasn't interested in it at all, but since it coincided with my shift change at work, I loitered in my company's parking lot to see it. When it reached totality, I was so overcome with emotion I almost wept – and I don't know why.
Outside my workplace when the solar eclipse was at its zenith
Anyway, the rest of the front page above has more coverage of the eclipse, including a great cartoon of a dragon swallowing the sun (which is allegedly what the ancient Chinese believed caused the unusual event) while a crowd fearing the end of the world flees in terror.
Here's another meaty post – this time, an ad for Tony's Meats, located at 220 E. 28th Street. Its distinctive ads with the steer logo appeared pretty regularly in the Journal in the 1960s. 'Tony' was Anthony Marinik.
The ad is interesting to me because of the prominence of the listing of Canadian Bacon. You don't see it very often these days in the deli section of grocery stores. I used to buy it at Apples but suddenly they just didn't carry it any more. I think it was just too expensive and it wasn't something that many people bought. Mom used to buy it every once in a while when I was a kid so I like it.
What is Canadian Bacon anyway? Well, for one thing, it's an Americanized version of what Canadians call back bacon. As its Wiki entry describes it, "Canadian bacon (or Canadian-style bacon) is the term commonly used in the United States for a form of back bacon that is cured, smoked and fully cooked, trimmed into cylindrical medallions, and sliced thick."
Back bacon is pork loin from the back of the pig – thus the name. But in Canada, they don't call it Canadian Bacon. It's just back bacon. It seems to be sold as both uncooked slices (that resemble thin, boneless pork chops) or prepackaged slices that just need to be heated up.
Peameal bacon is another form of back bacon, but cured rather than smoked. It's sold uncooked, either as a roast or in prepackaged slices. It's rolled in cornmeal so it's yellowish on the edges. But it is absolutely fantastic as a sandwich – tender, juicy and a little tangy thanks to the brine. The peameal bacon sandwich is the signature dish of Toronto.
Bob and Doug McKenzie were always frying up back bacon on the Great White North segment of SCTV, eh?
Over the years, I've brought home many packages of peameal bacon as my souvenir of Canada. I had so much of it in a cooler on one return visit that the border crossing guard asked me if I just go to Canada to buy groceries. I guess maybe I do.
Believe it or not, they used to carry peameal bacon at Heinen's and it was the real thing. But they stopped carrying it and replaced it with their own Canadian Bacon product. I guess it's because most Americans have never heard of peameal bacon.
So I'm due for a trip to Windsor to stock up, maybe this summer. But until then, I buy Canadian Bacon regularly at Meijer. Here's what the package looks like. It's pretty healthy fare.
If there's one conclusion that you can draw while looking through old Lorain Journals of the 1950s and 60s, it's that we certainly liked our meat.
Not too many vegetarians back then, apparently. We were a real carnivorous county.
Besides the usual grocery store and convenient store ads spotlighting various meat specials, the newspaper was filled with ads for local butchers and meat markets such as Polansky's and Tony's Meats, as well as regional and national meat processors such as Sugardale.
Perhaps our proximity to Toledo resulted in the Schmidt Provision Company running the ad above for Smitties Twins in the Lorain Journal on January 20, 1955.
'Smitties Twins' was a catchy way of marketing two similar prepackaged Schmidt sausage products – one pork (Porkettes) and one beef (Beefettes).
Both meat products are promoted using cute piggie illustrations. (What, no cute li'l steer with a bow tie?)
Anyway (in case you're wondering), this is a different Schmidt's than the one in Columbus, Ohio that has the restaurants with the Bahama Mama® sausage. Here's the (sausage) link to that Schmidt's website.
As for the Schmidt Provision Company in Toledo, it seems to have been first gobbled up by John Morell & Company in January 1964. It later became part of the huge pork packing empire owned and operated by Sandusky brothers Jack and Bill Waldock in 1970.
Back in the 1960s when kids ate a lot of breakfast cereal, Quaker Oats made it fun by introducing two new cereals with mascots that were constantly feuding: Quisp and Quake.
Quisp was a pink space alien with a propeller on his head from the planet Q. Quake was a super hero type with a miner's helmet who lived in the center of the earth. Commercials featured funny situations in which they battled it out, attempting to prove their cereal was better. Kids could choose which one they preferred – Quaker Oats would win either way.
Here's the very first commercial, from 1965, along with an ample sample of other early ones.
Quaker already had been enjoying great success with its Cap'n Crunch cereal, with character designs and commercials from Jay Ward Studios – the same creative team behind Rocky and Bullwinkle. So it made sense to put the same team to work to launch even more cereals.
Mom bought both cereals in our house. I remember liking Quake a little better – both the character and the cereal, which was somewhat similar to Cap'n Crunch.
Anyways, the commercials went on for several years before it became apparent that kids preferred Quisp. An attempt to redesign and 'soften' Quake, turning him into sort of an Australian cowboy superhero with a 'quangaroo' sidekick, ultimately didn't work. Kids voted, and Quake cereal went into retirement.
But Quisp continued on right into the 1980s without his nemesis, in 'quazy' defiance of all marketing reason.
Quisp was eventually officially relaunched to much nostalgic fanfare, with updated box graphics and its own website where you could order it.
New promotional items were created, including a watch that you could send away for (I did).
Eventually, the hoopla died down and the website was grounded. But for years, you could still buy Quisp at all Marc's stores. I bought a box every so often.
That is, until last year at some point, when Quisp disappeared from Marc's store shelves.
Fearing the worst, I recently contacted PepsiCo, the current owner of Quaker Oats brands. Unfortunately, they confirmed my suspicions. They wrote, "Thank you for contacting us. We're sorry that Quisp has been discontinued. We know many of our fans, like you, have favorites, and it can be disappointing to see a favorite disappear from store shelves. Since retail shelf space is limited, some products can only be offered on a rotating basis. I will share your request with our Sales and Marketing Teams as they may consider bringing this back."
Thus PepsiCo accomplished what Quake could not.
It's pretty amazing that Quisp lasted this long despite the fact it had no advertising at all. But like Donald Duck Orange Juice, Quisp's disappearance from the store shelves is a solemn reminder that time marches on, corporations make their marketing decisions based on customer demand, and nothing lasts forever – except in our memories.
Mention the name "Jackie Gleason" to someone other than a Baby Boomer these days and – if they recognize the name at all – they might remember him as the guy who played bus driver Ralph Kramden on The Honeymooners. And that's only because the 39 episodes of the classic 1950s sitcom have been rerun to death, and have achieved a sort of iconic comedy status.
But to those of us who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s, we know that Jackie Gleason was so much more, thanks to watching his weekly variety show. "The Great One" (as he was known) was a multi-talented entertainer and performer, capable of hilarious comedy as well as drama.
Remember the great musical theme of his variety show (that Gleason himself wrote)?
And much like Johnny Carson did on The Tonight Show, Gleason opened the show talking to the audience about what was to come. And to get things rolling into the first act, he would do a little pose and shuffle/dance before exclaiming, "And Awaaaaay We Go!"
It was his trademark line. In the 1950s, he used to ask the bandleader for "a little traveling music" first, before launching into "And Away We Go." It was such a well-known bit that it spawned a very popular song, featured on a same-name album that came out in May 1954.
With the line so etched into the public's mind by 1955, is it any wonder that it would find its way into advertising? Here's an ad for Seymour's Jewelers in Lorain that ran in the Lorain Journal on January 20, 1955.
I'm sure the public got the connection, especially with the small illustration of the man mimicking Gleason.
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My father was a big fan of Jackie Gleason. Many times he remarked to me that Gleason had so much more talent than the comedians who came later. Dad would cite some of the various characters (like Reginald Van Gleason III) that he found particularly funny. (The only other comedian he ever mentioned to me favorably besides Gleason was Ernie Kovacs.)
I remember watching The Jackie Gleason Show on Saturday night. The "Honeymooners" sketches were just short vignettes, with Sheila MacRae as Alice. And the best part of the show (for me as a kid) was when Crazy Guggenheim (Frank Fontaine) would stop in to visit Joe the Bartender.
As a male, I recall that various beautiful women would appear before a commercial to tell the viewer, "Jackie will be right back." (For some reason, that left an impression on me.)
Of course, I remember the show's weekly wrap-up with Gleason in a robe, sipping something from a cup, saying "How Sweet It Is!" before announcing (to much applause) that "The Miami Beach audience is the greatest audience in the world!" Then the haunting melody of "Melancholy Seranade" would play behind the credits.
Anyway, I think "And Away We Go" will remain in the public consciousness forever.
