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Halloween was more inspired in the old daysBy FRED FERRETT1 (e) 1977 N. Y. Times News ServiceNEW YORK — Halloween is much too complicated these days, far too structured, somewhat joyless.To observe the day properly we must outfit our children with grotesque Latex lace masks and those acetate capes with fake sequins, which are supposed to convert children instantly Into SuperHeroes but which instead disappoint.We buy jack-o’-lanterns that are clever approximations of pumpkins and plastic bags full of miniature candy bars that are virtuallyweightless.WHAT SHOULD be properly scary ghost stories, witch’s tales and whispered accounts of goblins are cartoon specials on television wbichdo not in the least frighten.It is a fine thing to have our children trick-or-treat for UNICEF and I think we should all join in that effort, but I ask you, where is the mischief, the inspired minor-league variety of vandalism that made the Halloweens I remember as a kid so memorable?When I was a kid we soaped windows, not our own, of course, but any others that were handy, preferably plate glass windows on stores that .didn’t like us.So was cutting clotheslines. I mean not just cutting them, but clipping sections out so that to retie them was a piece of frustratinglogistics.We trick-or-treated, but that-was only in the early evening right after supper, and we gathered candy, bubble gum or pieces of fruit — none with razor blades.We never were given money. Money was too easy. One house would give out marbles, candy swirls, I remember, or, if they were rich people, real aggies.Others would give penny packs of Topps baseball cards and gum and penny candy — chocolate kisses, Mary Janes, Tootsie Pops and that candy corn that looked so wonderful and tasted like sweet wax.But after that came the terror.WE WOULD ROLL old truck tires down the sidewalks and scream “Boo!” as some unsuspecting passer-by would leap aside in fright.We would fill paper bags with mud or, worse, light them, put them in front of a front door, ring the bell, run behind a hedge and watch with glee as a person opened the door and, seeing the burningsack, stamp down on whal was really a pile of mud.Halloween was also the night for phoning. If your group — one always ended up with a group somehow — was fortunate enough to have a pool of nickels then you could do all sorts of creative things on the telephone.Such as calling your favorite candy store, in our case, Feins-tein’s and asking, “Ahem, excuse me, do you have Prince Albert in thecan?”“YES,” Feinstein would answer.“Take him out, he's suffocating,” one of us would shout and we'd all collapse in laughter.Or we’d call a liquor store.“Do you have Johnny Walker in the bottle?Yes.”Take him out, he's drowning.” Laughter.Or we’d pick a number at random, dial it, and when someone answered it ask, Is Finnic there?” The person answering it would sayof course that there was no Finnic there.But we’d call three or four more times, getting the same reply, though angrier, each time. Thenext call to the same number would go like this however.“Hello?“Yes?”“This is Finnic. Are there any messages for me?” and the phone would slam down as we laughed.ANOTHER THING we did, at least I did, was to make sure I had a real pumpkin, one that the man I knew as Uncle Vic — he wasn’t my real uncle, but for my entire childhood I considered him so — would fix up for me.He’d cut out the holes for eyes, but put in eyeballs made of radishes. The mouth would be filled with celery teeth.My pumpkin would have a carrot nose and around his mouth the pumpkin rind would be carved into a grin that lasted for at least five days after Halloween.Why don’t they do that anymore?
Newspaper Details
Danville Register and the Bee
Danville, Virginia, US
Sat, Oct 29, 1977
Page 63
Full Page
Clipped by
Peter F.
USA 06 Sep 2022
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