Visit to Fiddle’s: You can go home
The peculiar color photograph arrived via e-mail, sent by a regular reader. I studied the picture on my computer screen for several minutes, unable to make any sense of it. The subject of the photo appeared to be an piece of modern art, some sort of mosaic. On a dark surface, the artist had arranged beige, blue, pink and green globs of some unidentifiable substance in a seemingly haphazard pattern.
I concentrated fully, attempting to discover the hidden design in the colorful splash of splotches.
Perhaps then I could unlock the deeper meaning of this work of art. I focused closely on just one of the individual spots of color, then on another one.
Finally, I realized the truth about those hundreds of beige, blue, pink and green globs.
They were wads of chewing gum.
What the reader had sent me was a photograph of the underside of a tabletop in a booth at Fiddle’s Confectionery in Brownsville. Some nostalgia-starved photographer had captured the image and preserved for all time the sticky spearmint spoor of the passing generations.
“We couldn’t clean it off,” laughed George Hallal, whose father, Fadell Hallal, was the long-time proprietor of Fiddle’s. “People stuck their gum under there almost as a tradition, like tossing a coin in the fountain. They would carve their initials in the wooden booths, too. In fact, I once said to my dad, ‘Why don’t we get some new booths?’
“Dad told me, ‘They’d have them carved up in no time. Besides, they’re part of the store!'”
It is easy to spot which visitors to Fiddle’s Confectionery are there to recapture a few moments of their youth. They enter the front door, stop short, then slowly look around the confectionery, as if they are seeing more than is actually there. Then, they look to the left, smile, and enter the part of the confectionery containing the old high-backed walnut booths that have been part of Fiddle’s longer than anyone can remember. They are hoping to find the initials they carved in their favorite booth many decades ago.
The late Margaret Johnson, who was director of the Greater Brownsville Area Chamber of Commerce, once told a reporter, “So many people want to come back home, once they move away from town. The first place they go back to is Fiddle’s, where they once carved a heart into a booth, and they reminisce about how their lives have changed since they had their first sweetheart.”
Just how old are those booths?
“Those booths were there in the ’30s, when I was a child,” George Hallal told me. “I don’t know exactly when my dad put them in, but they have never changed. They were quite fancy at the time. They took the place of tables with wire legs and chairs with wire backs, which my dad installed when he bought the place from his uncle, George Ellien, in 1918.”
When Richard Wells of Mount Morris, Mich., visits his old home town, he always checks out his favorite booth at Fiddle’s.
“On the back of the first booth on the right,” Richard revealed, “is inscribed ‘Libby + Rich.’ I scratched that there around 1948.”
Hundreds of initials are still clearly visible beneath layers of polyurethane.
Some of those initials are nestled inside carved hearts, etched by sweethearts who later married and now bring their grandchildren to Fiddle’s.
“Fiddle’s witnessed plenty of teenage angst,” said Jan Rowe, now of Boston, “as we sat in our booth, wondering where our boyfriends were. Often, we would walk to Fiddle’s on cold autumn and winter evenings, when there was nothing else to do.”
If a girl’s boyfriend was late, the juke box could provide some companionship.
“I worked there in 1950 and 1951,” reminisced Betty Lou Shabin of Manhattan, “and there were small jukeboxes in each booth, with panels of selections. Each song cost a nickel, six for a quarter.”
Background music for teenage tete-a-tetes included “How High The Moon,” by Les Paul and Mary Ford; “I Apologize” by Billy Eckstein; “Unforgettable,” by Nat King Cole; “Too Young,” by Nat King Cole; “Cold, Cold Heart,” by Tony Bennett; “Because Of You,” by Tony Bennett; “Jezebel,” by Frankie Laine; and “Mule Train,” by Frankie Laine.
Mal Crawford of Raleigh, N.C., had a different favorite hit. “I remember hanging out at Fiddle’s,” Mal said, “and everyone singing along with the juke box and clapping our hands to ‘Deep In The Heart Of Texas.'”
Two less-famous tunes were also listed on the play list of Fiddle’s juke boxes, tunes that professional musician Bob Davison, who grew up on Brownsville’s North Side, described to me.
“I recorded two songs that [former Brownsville physician] Dr. Klimoski wrote,” Bob explained, “and to which Carl Massini put the music. Dr. Klimoski went by the name of Joe Ballad, and his songs, which were recorded on the Jay-Bee Label, were on several juke boxes in the area, including those at Fiddle’s. Every time I would go into Fiddle’s, Johnny Mitchell would go to the juke box and play those songs.”
Some customers even figured out how to make money off the juke boxes. “Kids would jam the juke box with slugs,” revealed Don Laughery of Catonsville, Md., “so the juke box wouldn’t work. Later, they would come back to the booth and bang on the coin return to get the slug and any nickels that had been inserted afterward.”
The old booths are not the only reminders of years gone by. On the wall above the left-hand row of booths are light fixtures with very unusual shades. Mary Kolbash Rakas of Cardale, who worked at Fiddle’s from 1948 until 1957, remembers the day they were installed.
“We went next door to Berky Electric,” Mary told me, “found some shades, brought them back to Fiddle’s and cut them to fit those light fixtures above the booths.”
That was half a century ago.
“They’re still there,” exclaimed Mary. “Can you believe that?”
Believe it.
Because so much of its past has been preserved, Fiddle’s still has a magical way of reviving pleasant memories for current residents and expatriates alike. The fact that the confectionery was family-run also made Fiddle’s special.
“The thing that impressed me,” Mary Rakas commented, “was how the entire family would help during the busy times. Regina, George, John Mitchell’s brother George, and many other family members helped out.”
“The people who have talked to me over the years,” George Hallal said, “have all told me what a hard-working man my father was. He hit the shore running. He opened the store at six in the morning, stayed all day, had his meals behind the counter and then he’d close up in the evening.
“We all lived above the store until we moved to Spring Street in 1941.
“My family lived in one of the two apartments, and my uncle, John Mitchell, who was my mother’s brother, lived in the other apartment with his mother, Susan Mitchell, and his younger brother, George Mitchell, who graduated in 1946. Many members of the extended family, including the Mitchells, worked in the store.”
“When did you begin working there?”
“During the Second World War, it was hard for my dad to get help,” George said. “Most of the men, including my uncle, John Mitchell, were in the military. So, even though I was only about 11 years old, I started working there. I would work every day at lunchtime, and I would work in the evenings.
“One day I said to my father, ‘Dad, I need a day off.’ “He said, ‘What are you going to do with a day off?’ “I said, ‘I don’t know. I just want a day off.'”
“He told me I could have a day off in the middle of the week, when it wasn’t too busy. So, what did I do on my night off? I went down to the store and sat at the counter, talking to the customers.”
George laughed. “That was the last day off I ever had. In fact, I didn’t know what it was like to have a Saturday night off until I went to college at Penn State.
“Yet, I didn’t feel overworked or abused. That was just normal. We lived upstairs, and just went downstairs to work. During the week, I only worked at lunchtime, because we had to do our school work.”
“How could you work at lunchtime if you were a school student?” I asked.
“When I attended high school on High Street, they would let my uncle, George Mitchel,l and me out five minutes early,” George said. “We would always beat the crowd down the hill. We’d work until about 20 to one, have something to eat and go back to school.
“I never saw the end of a Brownsville High School home football game because I always had to leave at the beginning of the fourth quarter.
“The football field was where Brownsville Area High School is now, and I’d have to run down the hill to beat the crowd.”
“You mentioned that your dad’s mother, Jamilie, lived with you. Did she help, too?”
“She lived over the store with us, and, yes, she helped with the store, too. Before the Second World War, Fiddle’s used to serve full lunches, not just hamburgers and hot dogs. We offered such things as whipped potatoes, chicken croquettes, meat loaf, and most of it was prepared upstairs in the apartment.
“My grandmother would even roll ground beef into patties upstairs, so that we could make them into hamburgers downstairs.”
The familiar booths and friendly atmosphere attracted many loyal customers to Fiddle’s. They were also attracted by the quick service and good food. The popularity of one menu item in particular has become almost legendary. Next week, we will leave our booth, walk over to the counter, have a seat on a stool and order “Two With!”
Then, we will watch as Fadel Hallal or brother-in-law John Mitchell work some griddle magic.
Who knows? Perhaps we will finally discover the secret of those famous Fiddle’s hot dogs.
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Comments about Glenn Tunney’s columns may be sent to day editor Mark O’Keefe, 8 – 18 East Church Street, Uniontown, Pa. or e-mailed to mo’keefe@heraldstandard.com . Glenn Tunney may be contacted at 724-785-3201, glenatun@hhs.net or 6068 National Pike East, Grindstone, Pa., 15442. Past articles are on the Web at http://freepages.history.rootsweb.com/~glenntunneycolumn/