HALLOWEEN SHENANIGANS
Saturday, October 31, 1959.
My seventeenth Halloween, to be exact. The setting is a small town in Southwest Missouri -Neosho.
Neosho’s fame as “The Flower Box City” took root in 1955 when the town applied for and received a $5,000 grant from The New York Community Trust for a civic beautification project. Local companies provided lumber at cost, and Junior Chamber of Commerce members formed an assembly line to build more than 200 wooden flower boxes. Pet Milk Co. donated 400 used, wooden barrels for container gardens, and town nurseries supplied plants at reduced rates. The town even gussied up trash cans and parking meters around the square with flower baskets.
The all-out blooming effort earned Neosho a coveted All-America City Award from Look Magazine and the National Municipal League in 1957.
Neosho, city, seat (1839) of Newton county, lies in the Ozark Mountains, about 20 miles south of Joplin. Founded in 1839, its name, of Osage derivation, means “clear and abundant water,” probably referring to the nine flowing springs (the largest of which is at Big Spring State Park) within the city limits.
My formative years I spent eating Wonder Bread, because it “Helps Build Strong Bodies 8 Ways.” Well, I didn’t eat enough of the miracle grains therein contained, because I weighed a skin & bones 115 pounds upon graduation in 1960 from the high school -Neosho Wildcats. About now, I am certain you are asking yourself what does all this have to do with Halloween 1959. Nothing (nada), not a damn thing.
As dusk slowly, effortlessly, inexorably, began its reign, and light gave way to a rainy, bone chilling night, sparing neither parent nor child as they made their way door to door.
“Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—Only this and nothing more.”
The Raven – Edgar Allen Poe
Mom, dad, kids pounding on doors, seeming endlessly, as the rain began its voluminous descent upon the wretched souls who refused to fall prey to inclement weather, continuing their search for treats. The dark, cold, rainy night, notwithstanding.
“On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless!–but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle!”
― Washington Irving
Long after the Trick or Treater’s had scurried home to bed with their hard earned booty, a late night sugar high, and fallen asleep. Dreams.
dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exits and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths. ~ Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu
At a single strain of music, the scent of a flower, or even one glimpse of a path of moonlight lying fair upon a Summer sea, the barriers crumble and fall. Through the long corridors the ghosts of the past walk unforbidden, hindered only by broken promises, dead hopes, and dream-dust. ~ Old Rose and Silver by Myrtle ReedAt
Two figures lurked in the darkness on the town square just far enough from the lighted lamps that possibly might reveal their presence if police cruisers entered the center of town. We access the town square form Spring Street.
The two darkly clad, Ninja like figures moved stealthily, and went about their dirty business of destruction. The sounds of flower boxes being overturned, flowers crushed by stomping feet were shrouded by the thunderstorm.
It begins on SE corner of the square. Two youths imbued with an aura of invincibility, and immortality moved from one business to the next overturning every flower container on the square.
After such a physically exhausting evening we decided we should compensate ourselves . Climbing the ladder that led to the hotel rooms on the NW corner of the square with hopes of viewing a naked woman – we window peeked. Our efforts going unrewarded. Not even a woman with her clothes on.
After the hard rain and cold night, the next morning the sun arose at the appointed hour, illuminating overturned, broken flower boxes that store owners who opened for business on Sunday, were greeted by the wanton disregard of property. Pedestrian passersby were shocked.
The Baptist – who knew what they thought – or cared.
With fonts the size seldom seen and mostly reserved for wars, natural disasters, and other calamitous events, the Neosho Daily News’ headline boldly screamed ” VANDALS STRIKE CITY.” Nice. Recognition, finally. Albeit unsavory, not revealable.
Now, the potential for arrest and prosecution hits home. This was BIG. Not likely the police could or would, if caught, treat this lightly as they did when they caught and lectured teens for buying beer illegally. Therefore, no revelation as to whom were the perpetrators ever surfaced. A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty Hi-Yo Silver! The Lone Ranger! .. I kept this secret for sixty years. Mostly, because it was forgotten as the Marines (1960) banished all thought and memories other than military.
Classes began Monday, 2 November 1959. Small groups of students clustered together talking about Halloween night. I didn’t interject my opinions between those proffered by nearly everyone as to whom the perpetrators may have been. Regardless, the merchants on The Square had to replace flower boxes after cleaning up the pernicious mess bestowed upon them by vandals whom remain nameless to this day.
Memory fails if this transpired before or after someone painted a Swastika on the window of the East Side shoe shop where I worked as a cobbler replacing heels and soles on footwear.
The owner was a Jew.