By Morris Rote-Rosen
Viewing the Hallowe'en parade from the line of march: Several hundred marchers and no two costumes alike ... Many original ideas, bring applause from the crowded sidewalks ... Clowns, tramps, wooden soldiers, beggars and ballet dancers ... Even Mickey Mouse was there unmindful of the Tom cat behind him ... Few, if any, are recognized as they pass the curious onlookers ... And in the line were little tots not more than four years old ... But, they stayed with the parade.
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Passing the electric light company's office Mr. S. I. Giambruno stepped off the sidewalk and turned over a little blond girl to us, although she didn't know who we were with that white mask, long ears, red mustache, wearing a white fire-police coat and police cap. But, Mrs. Giambruno apparently felt safe in giving away here precious little tot for a march up Main street. When we reached Church street father Giambruno came over and took his little blond lady. And the best part of the story is that he didn't know in whose care he entrusted his little blond girl and we didn't know that the blond girl was his little boy.
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Dr. Bennett, marshal of the parade, looked like an Arab chieftain, on his steed, with that white flowing turban on his head ... There were carriages, wagon, baby carriages and a 1917 vintage truck in the parade ... Fire trucks sounding their sirens, the children ringing bells and blowing whistles and rolls and rolls of tissue paper being unwound by the marchers, made the village streets a madhouse of sounds and shouts ... And not a few appeared in black face, reminiscent of the old minstrel show characters.
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Peeking in on the gymnasium floor on the Hallowe'en dancers: John Goodspeed of Wells, dressed in his Sunday best, in a square dance ... Sliding, gliding, hopping like a boy as he puts his arm around Betty O'Brien in "Swing your partners!" ... And John floats through the air ... And who wouldn't with Betty O'Brien as a partner ... Tom and Glad King, slinding gracefully through a dreamy waltz ... Eva Gunther, dressed like an old lady of the Eighties, as neat as a little grandmother of yesteryear.
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Mike Darius and Chauncey Thomas costumed like a couple of Weary Willies of another generation, who used to "bum" from door to door and who rode trains a generation ago ... Helen Gilbert, funny, and at ease, in her man's tuxedo suit, bow tie and derby, one pants leg rolled up to show a man's garter ... Mr. and Mrs. John Scott, a good looking couple, behind the sweet cider and doughnut table, helping out by selling refreshments for the VFW ... What was that good natured commotion when Postmaster Statia asked Mary Minogue for a dance?
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"One more couple!" shouts the caller over the sound amplifier ... And out came John Rowan with a little doll, Miss Lorette Jean, a neat little package of femininity with personality plus and good looks to spare ... Then Francis Hood responding to the caller's command on a square dance let go with everything he had, leaving a blur of blue denims and heaving moccasins smoking over the gymnasium floor ... And while all this was going on, little seven-year old Kay Gilbert in her blue evening gown, hair knotted on the back of her head, and a specialty tap-dance for her own entertainment and for many watchers.
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And Sue Crouse, without her laugh-making utensil, dressed in husband Bill's pajamas, looked if she was going to bed or just getting up ... And what did that dancing partner of "Hermie" Trop whisper in his ear to make him smile that way? ... Robert Cook, shirt tail flying, winter cap with ear protectors down, wearing felt shoes, doing a jig to the delight of every one ... How these country boys can dance the old time dances! ... And Commander Gardner Norton of the VFW having a tight hold on Marguerite Carroll as they swing around the floor.
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Married couples, like Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Chadwick, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Pacyna, and several others, looking as happy as on their wedding day ... The contrast of Evan Evans and his wife, Yvonne ... He, in a dilapidated tuxedo, crushed-in stove pipe hat, bow tie slipped up above collar, looking like an English music hall comedian. And Yvonne who looks as if she stepped out of a band box ... Walter Hughes, and his blonde wife Eunice, sitting out a square dance because, as Walt says, "You don't see any one dancing the square dances who work in the quarry. They are too tired."
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The "Madam X" had the crowd in the gymnasium in uproarious laughter at "her" appearance on the floor. Displaying her charms and nyloned shapely gams, "she" reminded one of Julian Eltinge, that great female impersonator. "Madam X" made a hit with the crowd who came to witness the judging and award of prizes. And when Mike Minogue whispered in her ear "she" nodded and the two walked out arm in arm to the lobby the crowd again cheered until the rafters shook. It was only Albert Lloyd and his impersonation was perfect.
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Thanks to Morris and Margaret McWhorter for that card from Oregon. They wish to be remembered to all their Granville friends ... And some more thanks to the many friends for their cards and letters on the reappearance of "Main Street." They are all appreciated ... To Harry Lackey of Utica: Found your note. Sorry, wasn't in. Come again ... The bushel basket on top of the electric light pole on Hallowe'en is a contrast that the boys of today aren't as "bad" as those of yesterday when the boys of another generation hoisted a buggy to the top of the church steeple in Middle Granville.
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A friend in need is a friend indeed and this time it happens to be Dr. and Mrs. W.E. Owen, who came along just in time to distract the attention of a mad bull which started to drive us to the tall timbers of Vermont. While hiking home from Wells, Sunday, the John Hayes bull took a dislike to the red shirt we wore. He may be a member of the committee investigating un-American activities. The bull didn't like red. He lowered his head and with a loud bellow charged us. We started on the run with our eyes and hopes glued on Haystack Mountain or Spruce Gum.
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We knew that at the fast rate we were traveling we would never be able to round Blossom's Corners. Dr. and Mrs. Owen came along in time to get their automobile between the bull, and, what seemed to them, a red streak going down the road. It was enough to slow the bull down, but not us, oh, no. We never stopped stopped to look back, and if it were not for Dr. Owen we might still be on our way. We don't know whether the bull questioned our Americanism, but that red shirt we wore didn't appeal to him. And we can blame it all on Dr. Harold Winkler. He gave us the shirt.
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