Christmas at Splagonka's
Tony and Irene lived on the corner of Keystone Avenue and Ridge Road in a town called Peckville. My best friend used to say that was the place where cartoons were born. Their name was not actually Splagonka, but the kids couldn't pronounce it right, so that's what they said. Their house served as a gas station with two Esso pumps right at the bottom step of the front porch. I folded my morning papers there at 3:45am until I left to deliver at 4. Then the Trib started dropping the papers at the Borough Building so the cops could keep an eye on us paperboys. The Scranton Tribune paid for many a kid's first dirt bike, mine included.
Everyone loved Tony for his disposition and sense of humor. He was a big-hearted Pollack with a huge nose. He wore glasses just like the ones Harry Caray did. Imagine Tigger as auto mechanic. He who owned a small garage out behind the house. Attached to the house was a small pool room, and a candy story that sold penny candy to the kids in the neighborhood. Customers could come inside to pay for gas or Tony would just take their money and bring them change. It was a full service kind of place. Tony the Tiger was also the Esso mascot. That was Tony to a T and the kids adored him.
Now Irene was a completely different person. She was Italian. Everyone loved her because they said she was "full of piss and vinegar" She was fearless. She'd snatch any smart-ass punk, regardless of size, by the collar and drag him from the pool room, through the candy store and bounce him out the front door to the curb, the little bell would be ringing like crazy.
Irene could be as sweet as a Mallow-Cup or a TastyKake to the kids one minute and throwing one of them overgrown punks like Dippy DePew or Fitch out the door the next, yelling "Get out yadirtysuvanabitchesyas" because Dippy wouldn't shut his potty-mouth in front of the kids. Fitch was another story. He drove a Cadillac ambulance that just creeped her out because it was the same model as a hearse. He even hung hearsy-looking curtains in its windows for ambiance. She said she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, which was actually pretty far, given her size.
In Peckville, December brought out the best in almost everyone and even Irene tolerated more between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Topa was not one of them. Nothing brought out the best in Topa. Across the street from the house was Tony's Field where we hung out standing around in the snow and later parked in cars after the pool room closed. Next to the field was a house separated by a hedge. The DMZ. No Man's Land. Topa lived in that house. He was not your typical cranky old Italian geezer. Topa kept a fire burning in a cinder block firepit year-round. Whenever a baseball, football or even a frisbee crossed the barrier, Topa, who was bent over and could barely move on an ordinary day, would dart out from somewhere with the speed of a Doberman, snatch the offending object and pause. He'd then straighten up enough to look us in the eye, just to watch us wince, as he dropped it into the fire. Then he'd hobble back to wherever it was he hid. We heard many a Christmas football pop in that fire.
If October meant seeing deer hanging spread-eagle on front porches and the smell of burning leaves in the air, December meant spending snowy nights in the smoke filled pool-room. Funny that the adults, including Tony and Irene, forbid us kids from smoking because two hours in the pool room was about the equivalent of smoking two packs of Marlboro Reds. Two dollars at Tony and Irene’s bought a pack of smokes, a Dr Pepper, a Slim Jim and 4 games of 8-ball, if you lost every game. The loser always paid. You could play all night with a buck in your pocket, assuming if you weren’t a smoker and didn’t scratch on the 8-ball. I had it made because Tony taught me to play and I didn't lose often. But December could be a lot harder to get a game, with all the locals coming back on holiday leave from their Army or Marine Corps basic training. There were a few home from college on Christmas break, but not many of those university-bound were former pool room regulars.
When Santa left the Borough Building on the fire truck to begin his rounds dropping presents and sending the kids into conniption-fits, his first stop was for a highball at Tony and Irene's. That's where the big spotlight on Santa and siren were fired up and the kids started dropping like flies. One of the biggest challenges for Santa of course, was keeping the tradition of both delivering presents between highballs and attending Midnight Mass. By the time he arrived at the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Santa's legs were the consistency of water balloons. The afternoon spent at the VFW downing Stegmaier's didn't help matters. It took five family members to get him to his pew. One of the women would help him make the sign of the cross and he was snoring before the congregation ever got to the 'And also with you" response.
Antoinette Badwack lived just on the other side of Tony's garage. She hung a short string lights in one of the small windows that faced the street, but that was it. She worked in the dress factory and used cuss words some of us in the pool room never even heard or understood. She had twin daughters, Marlene and Darlene, who taught us what they meant. Like Topa, they did not embody what we considered the Christmas Spirit. Antoinette would send one of the Badwack twins over for a pack of Salem's and a Tab because she was permanently banned from the store. Irene would never tell us why. Even on Christmas Day, when the store was closed, one of them would be rapping on the door relentlessly with a chubby handful of change for Antoinette's smokes. Irene always caved, cussing to herself the whole way there and back. She'd open the door a crack, grab the change and hand out the Salem's saying, "Here! Gowanwitchanow! Doan bodderme till tamarra"
The Splagonka's positioned the same silver, aluminum tree in the front window every year. It was decorated with eerie blue lights and blue ornaments. Tony, who broke his femur sledding on the dump as a kid, limped around when it got cold because of the steel pipe still in his leg. For that reason, he stayed off ladders and the outdoor Christmas decorations weren't any higher than Irene's reach.
One snowy Christmas Eve, Chicky, who looked like Elvis and whose real name was Nick Yanovitch, cruised by in his 68 Dodge Dart. He was on his way home from work at Scranton Lace Company after a long day of making parachutes. The driver's window of the hemi was down, as it was every other day of the year. He always drove with his head tilted sideways to the left. He kept a pack of Old Gold tucked in in the left sleeve of his white t-shirt. He also drove with one arm out the window and the other stiff at 12 o'clock on the wheel. Odie, Bones and Chico were standing in a foot and a half of fresh snow with the rest of the group in Tony's field across the street. It was coming down hard and wet and when Odie yelled, "CHICKY!", all three of them launched successive slush-balls at the Dart.
These guys weren't amateurs. They kept the borough utilities crew busy year-round fixing street lights they busted with rocks and snowballs. Chicky never saw the incoming. All three hit their intended target with lased-guided precision. The first two went thru the window; one hitting the dash, the next the inside of the driver's windshield. The third caught Chicky square in the jaw knocking the smoke right out of his mouth. He hit the brakes hard and the car spun sideways right there in the intersection. As he was spinning to stop the drivers door was already flying open with his eyes on Chico. He took off running like a shot. The whole group had already started to flee the scene. Everyone except for Chico who had turned to boast to the group about his timing, but they were all gone. By that then the group was already hurtling over Topa's hedge and bounding thru the deep snow like a herd of white tail bucks. Chico took off and though he had the advantage of the trail the group had blazed, he only made it as far as the hedge before Chicky had him on the ground.
Chicky dragged him by the hair all the way back to the Dart, which was still running in the intersection with the driver's door open. He threw Chico across the front seat and took off in search of a police station. The Borough Building, which housed the police, fire, courthouse and utilities offices was at the bottom of Keystone Ave. He couldn't find it and Chico, who'd been thru this drill at least a dozen other times, gave him round-about directions. By the time they pulled up in front of the Borough Building, Chico had already bummed a smoke off him and had Chicky talking about the new Cragar mags and Holley 4150 770CFM 4-barrel carbs he'd just installed on the Dart. He even got Chicky to do a few power slides on the side streets just to hear the 4-barrels kick in.
Naturally, the Borough Building was deserted. Officer Pastular had the cop car and was now parked in front of the VFW in anticipation of Midnight Mass traffic. The whole volunteer fire department was on the fire truck with Santa. They hadn't even made it to Blakely Heights yet and that's where all the big present givers lived. It would be hours before they backed the truck in and the crew unloaded Santa into a waiting car for delivery to Midnight Mass. Chicky grabbed a few dozen paper towels from the bathroom and made Chico wipe down the inside of Dart, even the floor mats. All this time he waited for someone to show up to arrest Chico for throwing a snowball.
After 30 minutes Chicky grew impatient and cussed 'these effin-donut-eatin podunk cops". Chico talked so much Chicky nearly forgot why he was there. Finally, he gave up and headed back to his car. Chico hesitated, but then asked him for a ride back to Splagonka's. Chicky's jaw was still stinging from that frozen missile and he stopped in his tracks. He turned and nearly slapped Chico in the side of the head.
But it was Christmas Eve.
"Sure. get in," he said. "I'm driving right by. But kick all that crap off your shoes first."
The snow was still coming down hard. Chicky tilted his head and floored it. Chico had his window down with his head out and his mouth open in a scream. Chicky had the Dart fishtailing with that Holley 4-barrel kicked in all the way back up the hill which was beautifully lined with colored lights.
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