Category — Ben Grossblatt

The City Border Bike and Walking Trail is actually the paved-over remnants of a moat that briefly surrounded the southern half of the city in the early 1940s, connecting to the East Patterson River. During the debate over whether to enter World War II, isolationist Mayor Dixon Webster Dell ordered city workers to dig the moat in a peculiar attempt to protect the city from invading Germans or Japanese and to, as Dell put it, “block the way of our young men who would populate this foolhardy internationalist endeavor.” The moat, proving to be an environmental and public-health annoyance, was capped with concrete and asphalt in 1945. No plaque exists to mark its time surrounding the city.
- C. Gaines

The 17th annual Running of the Cats made Alex Tuttle a winner this past weekend. Thanks to some fancy footwork and deft use of a squeaky toy, Tuttle navigated a particularly aggressive field of felines. The herd, estimated at close to 100 cats, was the largest in the Running’s history with cats outnumbering spectators two to one.

Asked about the small crowds, event organizer George Rechter admitted he was perplexed. “Who wouldn’t want to watch grown men chased by a heard of cats? And do you know how hard we have to work to get those cats to all run in the same direction. It’s a behavioral miracle. You’d think people would want to see that, but people don’t appreciate science anymore. This would have been huge in the 18th century.”

The Running of the Cats was the brainchild of Rechter’s stepfather, George Senior. He stumbled on the idea, quite literally, after exiting Stern’s Tavern late one night and stepping on an alley cat’s tail. He was chased by the animal for four blocks. Today, cat owners volunteer their pets for the event, which is sponsored by The Utica String Company.

Asked about his win, Tuttle said, “I’m allergic to cats so I had a good motivation to keep running. And I think I just plain out-hustled the competition.”

There was no second place finisher.
- L. Lent

Last week’s electrical outage (technically, according to Energonistics, an “output diminishment”) had residents of Brisket Street as far north as 198th scrambling for candles, flashlights, and emergency rations. Two highlights (and one lowlight):

:: Believing his Crêpe-Tastic® electric crêpe-warmer had broken again, Desmond Watson, longtime resident of the Elmwood Apartments, tossed it from his 3rd story window, whereupon it landed upon blind metermaid Penny Turgeon, temporarily restoring her sight.

:: Oliver Crandall, one of the City’s 20-odd remaining World War I veterans, was trapped in an elevator at the 31st Avenue Plaza for close to 20 minutes. In that time, he bayoneted two fellow passengers (one of whom happened to be wanted on a shoplifting warrant).

:: The last slice of Grover Cleveland’s wedding cake, stored since 1886 at a constant 20°F in the archives of the Museum of Historical Confections, thawed and spoiled.
- B. Grossblatt

:: Greatest decennial population increase (1950 – 1960)- 201,610

:: Actor James Robard once described the City as “The place where my heart has a home.” He had previously said the same of New Orleans, Louisiana and Tucson, Arizona.

:: The Stander Memorial Gymnasium at Pine Run Junior High School is the only gymnasium in the country named after a former cast member of Hart to Hart.

:: The name of Seventeenth Avenue’s “Hotel Letoh” is a palindrome (a word or phrase reading the same backwards as it does forward), as is Troy Travis Square’s “Cafe du DeFac.” No other business in the City is a palindrome, owing to an ordinance passed in 1996.

:: Number of working farms within the city limits- 1

:: Number of Russian-language newspapers published in the city- 16

:: Number of city-produced Russian language newspapers which are then translated and published in English- 14

:: Total monthly circulation for translated and untranslated Russian-language newspapers- 237,000

:: Total Russian-speaking population in the city as of the 2000 census- Less than 700

:: Wattage of first commercial radio station (1921)- 100

:: Reminder- The compromise version of the controversial new “Jeanie’s Law” goes into effect today. From now on, the use and display of cell phones and iPods while crossing city streets is prohibited on even-numbered streets and odd-numbered avenues downtown Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and alternating Saturdays and Sundays, except for holidays (Federal holidays- apart from Christmas and Thanksgiving- do not affect the schedule).
- D. Andrews, B. Grossblatt, J. Morris, R. White

:: Number of years between the founding of the city and its incorporation- 19

:: This Sunday marks thirty years since the closing of the Hearth’s Delight Confectionaries factory, here in the heart of the city. Here are some of the fondly-remembered candies and sweets manufactured by this hometown Willy Wonka: Caramel Flats, Chocolate Hailstones, Dices, Ring-O-Ding-A’s, Strippies, Freaking Flip-Outs, Comfort Bar, Silver Nuggets, Sticks N’ Stones, Peach Boys, Rev-Em-Ups, Red Snappers, Mouth Umbrellas, Sasquatch Bar and Coconut Sasquatch Bar.

:: Square miles annexed to the city since 1970 (2005)- 9.1

:: Only resident of the city to be featured on a foreign nation’s postage- local poet Jakob Kaczala on Poland’s .25 zloty (about 33 cents) stamp

:: Current Value (in dollars) of a mint-condition copy of the stamp- 25 cents

:: The top sandwich at the As You Like It Deli (the one on Casper Street)- The Krazy Kat— sauerkraut, chopped liver, and peanut butter on one slice of rye and one pancake.

:: Today marks the eighty-seventh birthday of locally-born food scientist Professor Alfred Cash Delaney, inventor of the mini-marshmallow. Professor Delaney has described his time spent developing his compact culinary creation as “very difficult.”

“People tell me ‘It’s just a small marshmallow,’ what’s the big deal?’” said the Professor during a 1976 interview, “I say to them, ‘Why don’t you try to make a very tiny television set, see how far you get!’”

:: Cause of yesterday’s traffic snarl on the Westbridge Bridge: A parakeet named Cassius playfully escaped from his cage in owner Laura Prescott’s 1984 Nissan Sentra and playfully pecked at Prescott’s neck while she drove, sending her into the guardrail. Cassius was uninjured. Ms. Prescott’s condition was not known as of press time.

:: The No-Smoking ordinance passed in 1999 prohibits smokers from lighting up inside restaurants, bars, theaters, common areas in multi-family residences and within fifty feet of school properties, but oddly enough allows smoking in churches, libraries and gymnasiums.

:: Number of major-party vice-presidential candidates born here (1804 – 2004)- 3

::In six of the eight school districts within the city, the following elective sports are acceptable alternatives to regular Phys.Ed classes- Bowling, Beginner SCUBA, Intermediate SCUBA, Crossbow Hunting and RC Demolition Derby

:: Until 1992, an ordinance banned the use of two-letter state codes on outgoing official city correspondence. The ordinance was lifted in 1997, briefly reinstated in 1998, and then lifted again.

:: Number of statues in the city dedicated to Santa’s reindeer- Eight
- D. Andrews, B. Grossblatt, S. Levinson, J. Morris

:: Most people naturally assume that the city’s first public vending machines were the chicken leg contraptions installed along Soldier Boulevard by the Vendmate Company in 1925. Not so! Predating even those beloved tin hulks were the Vend-O salt dispensers that first appeared in 1922 in front of the Oriental Library. Day and night, the image of irascible mascot Jacktar the Old Salt charmed passerby from sandwich boards with his slogan “Buy Some Salt!” Late-night carousers lined up after performances at the Opera Building, jostling for paper cones of salt. Alas! By 1923 vandals had hooliganized every last machine and Jacktar smiles on us no more!
- B. Grossblatt

:: The localized power outage that hit the 15-1800 blocks of Portage Street for a few hours Tuesday afternoon and evening caused some businesses to close early, but not Carson’s Tavern, at 1729 Portage. The taps were working and the barkeep knows math pretty well, so folks stuck around and the owner, Bud “Carson” Carlson, saw no need to shut down. It was kind of a nice respite­­- ­­no juke box, no beeping cash register, just a few folks sitting around the small place, reminising about power outages and disasters of days past, or just reading by candlelight. There weren’t many walk-ins, though, especially once it got darker outside. Says Bud- “Folks’d just look in the door or open it, ask if we were open, then look kind of confused and take off in a hurry. Guess they don’t like really dark bars.”

:: Many visitors to Calvinton are surprised to find that there isn’t a single bar in the tiny borough, or a single bottle of wine to be found in any one of the seventeen restaurants in its commercial strip. It’s the only “dry” part of the city, a condition of its annexation in 1913. The hamlet, at that time on the outskirts of the city, had been an early proponent of prohibition. So, when the city decided to expand the boundaries a bit, the town fathers would only agree on the condition that it would remain alcohol-free for all time. The city, eager to ease its access to Calvinton’s branch of the river, quickly agreed. As a result, you can’t find a drop of tipple in these few square blocks of the city, but don’t worry- its boundary streets form a ring of taverns and liquor stores eager to serve thirsty residents.
- R. White

Oh, You Never Knew It!
Wimple and Bing, the City’s fifth-most-famous intersection, was almost known as Wimple and Porkpie! In 1903, due to inattentive aldermen, street-naming honors had devolved to the rascals of the Bottling District. A Mr. Elliott Lamb sought to name that “elm-festooned” promenade after Porkpie, his prize-winning mule. But on the way to file the papers, Porkpie dropped dead, most likely from Mulish Discomfiture. Lamb, fearing to speak the name of the deceased, was forced to substitute the name of his traveling companion, Bing (a bantam rooster). Had things worked out differently, just imagine how that old melody would go: “Please Meet Me at the Corner of Wimple and Porkpie!”
- B. Grossblatt

Pianist returned
Russian pianist Vladimir Fiorello has been returned unharmed to the Royalton Hotel, the spot from which he mysteriously vanished nearly two weeks ago. Known for a series of award-winning Bach recordings released to polite applause in 1952 (Bach Tonight!, The Well-Tempered Clavier Well-Played, Bach Tonight! Part Two and Back to Bach), the pianist claims he was abducted by Clive Chance, general manager of the City Orchestra, in a ransom attempt that clearly failed given that no one realized Fiorello was even missing until his wife finally called last week, berating the Royalton concierge and demanding he tell her why Fiorello had not yet brought home the roast she planned to prepare for Christmas dinner.

When asked about the allegations, Clive Chance told reporters, “I didn’t realize she was waiting for a roast.”
- L. Lent

The Wrong Maps
A printer’s error in 1987’s Frommer’s guidebook for the city resulted in some map pages from directories of Indianapolis and Baltimore replacing the correct ones. The mistake was not noticed until almost a year after the books had hit store shelves. One reason for this was the fact that the maps, when overlaid with the correct ones, were oddly similar, particularly in parts of the Downtown and Lindenmeyr areas of the city. Also, tourism was not exactly a leading industry for the city at that point in time.
- R. White