Alright folks, buckle up your Locomobile steamers and put your quarters in the gas meter, because we’re taking a high-speed, slightly unhinged journey through the 20th Century. Forget what you learned in history class; this is the real story, full of deadly sleds, wrongly accused peepers, and enough big bands to make your head spin.
The 1900s: The “What’s This Button Do?” Decade
The century kicked off with a charming simplicity. Children were to be “seen and not heard,” which, according to 101-year-old Virginia Brooke, meant being trotted out in your Sunday best to be admired like a cute piece of furniture before being put away. Entertainment was simple: watch a German band march through the intersection, or get thrilled by the enormous workhorses delivering beer.
The real X-Games of the era, however, was the “tiller.” According to Ralph Heist, this was a 14-person death-sled that kids would launch down the cobblestone hills of Reading. Their only defense against cross-traffic and trolley cars? Posting a friend at the intersection to politely ask the multi-ton vehicle to please hold. Many kids were hurt, some were killed, but hey, it was a rush!
Not all was fun and games. Poor Irvin Schaeffer was wrongly accused of cutting a hole in the outhouse partition to peep at the girls. His punishment? His father packed his suitcase on a pitchfork and shipped him off to a farm. This was apparently the 1900s equivalent of being sent to your room without supper, but with more manure.
The 1910s & 20s: World Wars, Bad Booze, and Worse Alibis
Things got serious with World War I, and the home front sprang into action knitting socks that, by Myrtle Quier’s admission, “didn’t look so hot but they could wear them.” The decade was capped off by the Spanish Flu, because a World War apparently wasn’t enough excitement.
Then came the Roaring ’20s, which, according to your file, weren’t so much roaring in Berks as they were… politely clearing their throat. Prohibition was in full swing, meaning you could only get a drink at the hundreds of speakeasies that everyone knew about. Meanwhile, bandits who robbed a Wyomissing bank for $180,000 had the audacity to write a letter to the Reading Eagle critiquing their news coverage and thanking them for the good laugh. They even offered a restaurant review: “pretty good for a ‘jerk’ town.”
The 1930s & 40s: The Great Depression Meets the Greatest Generation
The Depression hit, but Berks County persevered with a can-do attitude and government-funded poison ivy. Workers on the WPA program were paid five cents an hour to build the beautiful stone wall along Skyline Drive. According to one worker’s wife, her husband got so much poison ivy his mother wouldn’t let him in his own bed.
The social hub was the Abraham Lincoln Hotel, where you could hobnob with Ozzie and Harriet or run into Gene Autry. Just don’t get on the elevator after 6 p.m., as Juanita Amicone learned, or you might end up chauffeuring “ladies of the evening” to their appointments.
World War II then called, and the women of Berks County answered. They became trainmen, built B-26 bombers, and, like Anna Mae Lynch, became riveting experts. Back home, folks coped with rationing by eating a lot of “peanut butter and gravy bread,” which sounds less like a meal and more like a culinary cry for help.
The 1950s: Happy Days, Hot Rods, and Hexes
The ’50s were all about rock ‘n’ roll, cars with fins big enough to land a plane on, and a healthy dose of paranoia. Kids listened to distant radio stations because local ones refused to play that devil’s music, and then raced their souped-up Chevys on the “Fivey.” Meanwhile, Dr. William Glosser recalled competing with a committee of local hexers who believed they could extend their own lives by “putting the hex” on his patients. When he asked one patient why she needed her medicine in a plain envelope, she explained, “If my mother finds out who I’m going to now, she’ll put the hex on you and the medicine won’t do any good.” Try getting that covered by your HMO.
The 1960s & 70s: Peace, Love, and Hour-Long Gas Lines
The ’60s arrived, and Berks County sent its best and brightest into the Peace Corps, where they taught English, vaccinated thousands, and occasionally had to run from elephants. Back home, the decade was a whirlwind of change, from the Kennedy assassination to the rise of The Beatles, whose drummer Ringo Starr may or may not have left a conductor’s hat in Reading.
The ’70s brought us the gas crisis, where motorists waited in epic lines just for the privilege of paying 49 cents a gallon. It was a time of environmental awakening, complete with Gov. Mifflin’s “Ecology Bus,” and a time of utter devastation when Tropical Storm Agnes turned the Schuylkill River into a 31.5-foot-deep monster. On the bright side, the Astor Theatre was rocking with names like The Kinks and Jerry Garcia, proving that even a flood can’t stop a good guitar solo.
The 1980s & 90s: Supermoms, Supercomputers, and Super-Weird Weather
The ’80s were the decade of the “Supermom,” women like Gwen Gage who balanced careers, kids, and commuting, all while wrestling with the newfangled VCR. The economy shifted, Bethlehem Steel downsized, and suddenly everyone was in the “outplacement” business.
Then came the ’90s, when Mother Nature apparently decided she’d had enough. Berks was pummeled by the Blizzard of ’96 (34 inches!), rattled by earthquakes that opened sinkholes, and terrorized by a tornado that took a personal dislike to the borough of Lyons. The decade ended with the rise of the Internet, where 9-year-olds like Toby Davis could suddenly e-mail their friends and explain to their confused parents that Elvis has, in fact, left the building.
From tiller-sleds to the information superhighway, it’s been one heck of a journey.
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