Heart of the Mountain
Dancing in the Streets
By Patricia Brown Davis

I can’t remember spring’s flowering trees and shrubs ever being so lovely!” Those words keep falling out of my mouth, as I notice the quantity of luscious blossoms wrapped in the brilliant greens missing from our past dreary grey winter. My mind turns to thoughts of mountain laurel. Will it be in bloom for our Pennsylvania State Laurel Festival?  Ah, my favorite annual community event. And, naturally, my Ghost of Laurel Past starts its review of childhood memories, of which favorite excerpts bubble to the surface. It’s typical, some events change, some don’t.

If you’re about my age and grew up in this area in the 1950s and ’60s, you’ll recall the grand stage rebuilt yearly on The Green, where Friday and Saturday evening’s entertainment and the crowning of the State Laurel Queen took place under the stars. And there, on Sunday morning, our community-wide ecumenical church service was held. There were no arts and crafts booths on The Green and no food court on the Pearl Street side.

Kiddy rides, run by the firemen, were placed in the middle of the north end block of Central Avenue, where the jail and armory were on one side and on the other, the old bowling alley and Parkview Hotel. (Today it’s the chamber of commerce, county offices, The Native Bagel, and the proposed Deane Center property.)
On Saturday night, the block on The Green’s Central Avenue side was closed to traffic, and, following the crowning ceremony, a block dance was held. For years the band of choice was Johnny Lundgren’s Orchestra, which featured round and square dancing. They always performed on a temporarily parked large flat-bed truck. I still remember the feel of scattered sawdust under my feet while sashaying to an “Allemande left” or twirling with my partner during a polka. A few years later, the dance was moved inside and more kiddy rides were added in this block.  (Today, the Fireman’s Carnival is held on their new property at the other end of town.) 

While the block dance was in progress, the official and more formal “Laurel Ball” was taking place in the dining room of the Penn Wells Hotel, featuring the queens and their escorts.  Both dances are a thing of the past.

Of course, the festival’s premier attraction for families’ enjoyment was and still is the Laurel Parade. Then, there were more queens and as many as 20 high school bands participating. Young people didn’t have summer jobs and so many conflicting schedules. Today, moving an entire band has become an expensive proposition.

And if you are near my age, you would remember that most of the businesses built their own floats. Now, they are contracted by the Chamber and businesses sponsor floats. The crowning glory of all parade floats 40 or 50 years ago were those constructed by Wellsboro’s Corning Glass Works (CGW). Plant Manager D.J. Carr made sure the plant was part of the festival by offering the largest, most expensive and creative float in the parade. Because they had as its resources designers, carpenters, welders, and any amount of labor and money available, the float did not compete with the other floats in the parade for a prize. But every year people took pride in and looked forward to seeing what the plant would have to offer. And, since Dad was the designer, I felt especially proud and loved being in on the inside track of what was being planned. 

My favorite CGW float was the one that had a nine-foot “genie” standing at the back with two Laurel queens at his feet and a large magic carpet in front of him. The carpet was large enough for four queens to ride on and was suspended about four feet above the float by a giant steel I-beam. Concealing the narrow beam, on either side and under the carpet, was a large plate-glass mirror of the same height. These mirrors were as long as the carpet, and were at the eye level of people watching the parade. As the float/carpet went by, the faces of people in the crowd were reflected back at them, giving the illusion that the carpet was floating in space and that they were looking at people standing on the other side of the street.
All floats displayed fresh-picked buckets of mountain laurel. The town was always wrestling with the blooming time of the shrubs. I remember Dad’s excitement the year he found artificial flowers that looked like laurel and stapled them onto the float in places where the real thing would have wilted before parade’s end. And, as always, all CGW floats featured their Christmas ornaments decoratively worked into the display. It was an era before glitter, so workers would deliberately break and pulverize new ornaments to make their own to add to the signage and other decorative areas.

Today, my favorite memories of the festival are about who I spend the day with—family and friends. I’m lucky enough to have been invited each year for the past 35 years to the best party in town! Where, you say? I can’t tell—the place is already bulging at the seams with extended families and friends. 

Suffice it to say, the place is also crawling with musicians and music enthusiasts and we put on the best show in town in time to marching units as they parade past. Over the years we’ve acquired dozens of hand-made signs for “paraders” to read, making them all feel welcome and special, which, of course, they are. And when they stop, turn and offer us a ditty or two, we’re on our feet with giant enthusiasm, acknowledging their gift. 

Just because the parade’s over, doesn’t mean the party is. We all drift to the back yard where tables twice as long as a couple of floats have been set up to hold the dozens of dishes brought for the biggest picnic in town. If that’s not enough, Spare Parts Dixieland Band performs to the delight of all. In one section of the yard, someone carves the smoked turkey breast, while in another, others work at the grill. Beverages of all kinds magically appear. Canopies are pitched all over the back yard so folks may duck out of the sun or an occasional shower. The dessert table is to die for!  Kids have room to run and play within sight of the adults. And talk and laughter are the order of another day well-lived in Wellsboro.

Patricia Brown Davis facilitates memoir-writing workshops and is a professional musician. Contact her at patd@mountainhomemag.com.