The Victorian High Rollers. PHOTO BY LINDSEY SHUEY
Originally published in the Pottsville Republican-Herald on September 28, 2019.
SCHUYLKILL HAVEN - Rappers, you can stop bragging about your cars now. Darn Horengic has you all beat with the 56-inch rims on his 1883 Kennedy penny-farthing bicycle, complete with a lantern and klaxon horn that sounds like a fart.
“I thought they were cool,” said Horengic, 62, Shamokin, wearing a top hat almost as tall as the front wheel of his bike. “I like weird and unusual stuff.”
On either side of Horengic, firemen fell into a dunk tank and the bagpipes of the Hawk Mountain Highlanders blared. Music, food and activities were all around on Saturday, Schuylkill Haven’s 31st annual Borough Day.
“It’s just a tremendous opportunity for the community to work together and highlight what Schuylkill Haven means to everybody,” said Tina Houck, the third-generation president of the Schuylkill Haven Casket Company and member of the Schuylkill Haven Historical Society. The Casket Company’s 100th anniversary was the topic of SHHS’s 2019 Borough Day exhibit, giving out free whoopie pies stamped with the Casket Company logo. Houck, 60, joked and schmoozed with other history buffs. Ornate gilt clocks ticked away, looking down on frayed old books of casket sales records and “the world’s deadliest putter,” a custom-made golf club with a head shaped like a coffin.
“Death gives you an opportunity to celebrate the life that has been well-lived,” Houck said.
“It’s a day to celebrate the history of Schuylkill Haven,” said SHHS Treasurer Jim Caravan, 65. “It’s also a celebration of people coming together in the town to have a fair and show off the town.”
On a day meant to celebrate the history of the town, Shamokin’s group, the Victorian High Rollers, couldn’t have done any better. Standing in front of a billowing, bellowing locomotive at the train station with their bikes, it was straight out of the 19th century. Two of Us, one of the many musical duos performing Saturday, sang “California Dreamin’” as the train came into the station. The leaves in the mountains were brown, and the sky was gray, turning white with smoke and filled with hissing, horns and bells. Railroad volunteer Chris Hohman just got done greasing the rods. His arms were splotched with black.
“I love to see the little kids’ faces when i tell them they can blow the whistle or get in the cab,” said Hohman, 19, Pottsville. He used to be that little kid, and enjoys interacting with the public on Borough Day.
“This is a dying art,” he said, “and someone has to keep it going.”
I stopped into a church, and outside it, below the Gothic parapets and stained glass of Saint John’s United Church of Christ, Scott Wagstaff performed with his puppets. Wagstaff, 61, Allentown, says he’s a cheesy comedian. And he proves it by pulling out his puppet Monterrey Jack, a hunk of cheese with a face on it. Passers by smiled and shook their heads at the many cheese puns. Towards the end of the show, he held Charlie, a chimpanzee wearing a diaper, and looked at his watch.
“My life revolves around ventriloquism,” Wagstaff said. “I’ve been doing this for 30 years and I’m still not rich and I’m still not famous.”
Wagstaff said that some people are afraid of ventriloquist dummies because of their appearances in horror movies. Splash the Clown, making balloon animals for kids, felt the same way. He hates the “It” movies because they give hard-working clowns like him a bad name.
“My feeling is, you can’t control stupidity,” said Splash, real name John C. Sullivan. Sullivan, 61, Pottsville, took off his orange wig, leaving a bald head, red nose and painted-on smile. His shirt read “You know what they say about clowns with big shoes.” Sullivan met some clowns, Schmoe and Ducky, who took him under his wing. When his stepbrother was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy, he started performing to raise money. He attended clown school in four states.
“It’s fun,” he said. “You get to share smiles.”
Down the road from Splash was Piggy Villa, a white-fenced play area decorated with plastic flowers that was home to three rescued pot-bellied pigs owned by Anne Savage and Priscilla Merta. The two women kissed at their pigs as they played in their pen. Tanner the pig wore a rainbow-colored harness.
“He’s the cutest pig on the planet,” said Savage, 58, Boyertown. She wore a necklace made of the tusks of her first two pigs and earrings from the tusks of her third.
“A lot of people think they can have a pig,” said Merta, 47, Alpha N.J., “but you always need to check with a municipality to make sure you can have them. They’ll report you that you have a pig in the backyard - come here, Archie - and they take your piggy away.”
The pigs come from pig rescue sanctuaries across the country. Archie is a little guy, but he can already sit, shake hooves and roll over. Soon he will grow to the size of 100-pound Spartacus, who was less willing to do tricks for visitors.
“Like people,” Merta said, “some are smarter than others.”
The pigs have their own personalities. Archie is energetic and curious, while Spart is laid-back.
“It’s like having a two-year-old in your house forever,” Savage said. “They’re so smart, they get into things.”
“That brain is always spinnin’,” Merta added.
Train volunteer Brock Regnier, 14, looked at the paintings by the pigs that were for sale at Piggy Villa. He held a carton of diet tea, his dirty gloves tucked into the back pocket of his overalls.
“I’ve always had an interest in trains,” he said. “It’s such a close-knit relationship that everyone has. It’s really a labor of love. If something goes wrong, you’re there all night trying to fix it.”
The cylinders that Regnier built with his grandfather power one of the trains.
“It’s just seeing what you do come together,” he said, “on a day like this. It’s satisfying.”
He has a spork in his front pocket, a token from his girlfriend Amanda Becker, 15.
“I think they’re adorable,” Becker said, watching the pigs. “Just watchin’ the little one walkin’ around with his tail waggin.’”
“A little unorthodox,” Regnier added, “but still cute.”
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