July/August/Sept, 2012

THE FOREST PARK HIGHLANDS
By Joyce (Perkins) Sudbeck '53 
1853 Irving Avenue

In the good old days of elementary school, at Wellsmar Elementary, I can remember looking forward to May with eager anticipation.

 What was so special about May - other than the ending of another school year? Of course, you remember, the Annual School Picnic at the Forest Park Highlands. 

Forest Park Highlands was a “magical” place, located on Oakland Avenue. I guess it was called an amusement park, for lack of better words. It later burned down and was eventually replaced by Forest Park Community College, but not before we enjoyed many, many school picnics there.

 I always hoped for a new “outfit” to wear on picnic day. I wanted to look my very best for this special occasion. I remember, probably, the last outfit to ever darken the gates of the Highlands. It was a light pink camp-shirt top with a pair of shorts, dark & light pink striped, with a flap buttoned across the front that made a little skirt. I was looking good. I always hoped a boy I liked would ask me to go on a ride with him. That didn’t happen, but I could always hope. So, dressed in my new shorts outfit and with my long hair French-braided into two smooth rows, I was more than ready for the upcoming event.

On the day before the picnic (after working eight hours at her job), mom fried chicken and made potato salad for the picnic lunch. Mom added celery & carrot sticks, canned pork & beans, and some sandwich cookies. Mom packed the picnic basket carefully and prepared to spend the day being home base while I ran back and forth between the games and rides. Although lunch wasn’t the wonderful smelling hot dogs they sold at the park, it was tasty and there was plenty. In those days, the little money we had extra would barely cover the rides, but with any luck, maybe, an icy-cold soda around mid-afternoon.

 Mom didn’t present my whole cash allowance to me at once. That would have been a major mistake. The money would have disappeared in a heartbeat. Albeit small, the allowance did stretch the length of the day. Mom would make me rest a little between trips around the Highland grounds to stretch the money, and to discourage me from wearing myself out within the first couple of hours. Mom was the regulator that made the whole day a huge success.

 I loved the rides that turned around and around, like the Tilt-A-Whirl. With the potential for nausea, I didn’t do-over much, at least, not repeatedly. It would have served to ruin my appetite for mom’s delicious lunch, that’s for sure.

The Ferris wheel was thrilling as it felt like flying, when it moved full-speed. From the top, when they stopped to load the opposite side of the wheel, you got a bird-eye view of the entire Highlands. We actually spent a lot more time stopping and loading, than we did moving, as I remember.  

I remember there was a ride called the Cuddle-Up which was similar to the Tilt-A-Whirl, only more so. Circular, stomach curdling, and, I think, with whiplash potential. Exciting.

The swings also went around in circles as the centrifugal force sent us sailing far out from the control base. The rides were all about movement, and they certainly did move.

 I liked the bumper cars. The problem was, there were too many traffic jams caused by people who didn’t know how to maneuver through the clump of cars. Of course, I considered myself an expert in the driving department, and knew I would never cause one of those awful traffic jams. Oh no, not me. (smile)

 Shudder…there was the Comet Roller Coaster. You guessed it, I was way too chicken to tackle that one. It looked so scary to me. I never got up the courage to chance it until I was way up in my teens. I don’t think I missed much as I didn’t believe scaring myself to death was akin to having fun.

 My favorite game was the “rabbit races”. They were cute little toy rabbits on a stem that were moved up a slanted, green felt covered board, by something similar to a joy stick. I don’t know that I ever won a prize but I certainly enjoyed trying.

 The pyramid of bottles, that were set up to throw at, were a challenge but my arm wasn’t strong or accurate enough to topple them over. I usually missed, entirely. I didn’t spend a lot of time there. Talk about a real waste of money for me.

 I did find the cotton-candy machine and, for a nickel, managed to get sticky stuff all over my face, hands, and some on my pretty picnic outfit. What a mess!

Around 3:00pm, mom put the last of the cookies in the basket and we headed for home. We hopped on the bus, transferred to the Hodiamont streetcar, and on home. By that time, I was exhausted and ready to take a nap. Of course, mom didn’t get to nap, she had to hurry and get a meal on the table for dad when he came in from work. Usually, there was enough leftover fried chicken, in the refrigerator, to give her a good start on dinner.

 I fell asleep, ruminating yet another School Picnic, and thinking, “What a perfect day!”

hTrees---and people---need deep roots to weather storms.

FLASHLIGHT

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LET'S GO TROJANS!
 

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children, Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying, "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings Could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "Dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a thresh hold.

(Getting quite an education, aren't you?)

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom; of holding a wake.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave.. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was "considered a dead ringer.

And that's the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring.