The Bewildered Brit

Philadelphia! What do you think of when someone mentions Philadelphia? The signing of the Declaration of Independence? The Phillies? The Oscar-winning 1993 movie with Tom Hanks? Or Goldenberg's Peanut Chews?

These bite-sized pieces of chewy peanutty goodness, wrapped in chocolate have been part of the landscape of Philadelphia since 1917.

Romania in the late 19th century was not a good place for Jews to live. David Goldenberg knew this only too well. In his eighteen short years he had seen a constitution written that deprived all Jews of citizenship. Later laws would ban Jews from certain professions, from public education and allowed their expulsion from Romania.

So, in 1890 David left his large family behind and emigrated to America.


Things were tough to begin with. He started by selling candy at carnivals. Soon he had a family of his own to feed.

Having built up a business, he opened a store on Kensington Avenue. But it was the United States' entry into World War I that gave David his big break.

In 1917, the United States Army needed non-perishable pocket-sized foods for the soldiers to eat. David created the peanut chew in response and they were a huge success.

Demand for the chews was so great that in 1921, David's son, Harry, introduced prewrapped peanut chews for sale to everyone.

At this time a "Peanut Chew" was a single bar, about the size and shape of a Snickers. So how did they come to be the little bite-sized nuggets that we know and love today?

The answer comes from the movie industry in the 1930s.

People liked to snack while at the movies. But there's a logistical problem: it's somewhat difficult to concentrate on what you're eating in a dark movie theater when you're trying to focus on the swashbuckling adventures of Errol Flynn.

So Harry was asked if he could make his popular Peanut Chews a little more "movie-friendly". He complied, making them into bite-sized pieces.

As demand grew, so the Goldenberg Candy Company grew. They began to make a wide variety of candies. The future looked bright.

But by the end of World War II, the candy industry faced problems. People started to make candy at home; it became impossible for a large company such as the Goldenberg Candy Co. to carry on.

So at the age of 77, David Goldenberg saw his life's work in tatters. In 1949, he decided to liquidate his company.

But David's son, Harry, wasn't happy with this. Together with Sylvia, his wife, he bought the rights to Peanut Chews and restarted production. Unlike his father's company, Harry concentrated on making just one product: Peanut Chews.

While Goldenberg's Peanut Chews continued to thrive in the Philadelphia area, over time it became harder to compete with the bigger candy companies. Goldenberg Candy could make a fantastic product, but they couldn't advertise it.

In 2003 Harry's son, Carl, finally decided that he had no choice: if Peanut Chews were to survive, he would have to sell the company to someone who was able to get the word out about them.

Enter Just Born, of Peeps fame. 

Since taking over the product, Just Born have rebranded them for a younger market. There have been television commercials and sponsorship of motocross, BMX and skateboarding events. Peanut Chews can now be found outside more than just the WaWas of Philadelphia and Maryland.

You can see the new-style Peanut Chews in this recent TV spot:

Although they look a little different today, it's the same classic candy which has been an integral part of Philadelphia for over 90 years.

When it came to tasting Peanut Chews, we were able to pick up a special edition pack using the old Goldenberg's wrapper, which is what I used for the photos. Other than the label, the only difference is that the new version contains six chews, while the old one contained eight.

"Oooooh, you can really smell the peanuts!" enthused Natalie as I opened the wrapper.

They were really very chewing, but not exhaustingly so. The peanuts aren't held together by caramel, but a more demure molasses-corn syrup mixture.

"It's like a Snickers, but less fake." Once again, Natalie was right on the money. Snickers have some peanuts and a lot of caramel and nougat; Peanut Chews have a lot of peanuts but only a small amount of goop. What you get is a candy bar that tastes natural, not artificial.

"These are so nostalgic," she smiled, "I used to get them before piano lessons when I was young." Natalie took another piece.

The only downside, perhaps, is that because there are so many peanuts and so little goop, the filling is a little dry. It's not as sweet as some other chocolate bars. This is a plus in my book, but I could see this being a negative for some people.

In all, though, it's a magnificent bar that lives up to its reputation. A big thank you to Philadelphia for giving the world Peanut Chews!

Oh yes, and that Declaration of Independence thing, too.

Goldenberg's Peanut Chews by Just Born, Ratings
Natalie: 8/10
Richard: 8/10

Text and photographs: Richard Peevers

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The Ice House Man stands at one end of an empty lot, staring into the distance. His left hand is outstretched as if offering us something. But who is he and how did he get to be in New Castle, Indiana?

In the far corner of the lot is the Ice House Tavern, a bar and restaurant. It's an odd-looking building. It looks rather ramshackled and as though it has been converted into a bar from something entirely different. But what could that have been?

We took a closer look at the statue. It's hard to know just how big he is—maybe 20 feet including plinth. He looks worn out from staring down the elements. The Ice House Man is in serious need of repairs and a new paint job. Not only is it flaking off, but he's been graffitied and there's large globs of what looks like putty or cement spattered over his legs.

We looked for clues to find out who he was built for.

Let me go all Sherlock Holmes for a moment while I show you how we figured it out. Check out this closeup:

The first thing to notice is that where the blue paint is peeling away, you can see the original paint job underneath. It's red.

The second thing to notice is the shield on his upper arm. This would almost certainly have had the company logo on it.

Here's another things to bear in mind: giant fibreglass statues of men such as this were generally used to advertise auto repair shops, car dealerships or gas stations. So what we're looking for is a business which has all of the following:

1. Red clearly visible in its corporate colors;
2. A logo which is a shield or fits in a shield;
3. A company related to cars.

Given that he's in Indiana, there is one obvious candidate: Marathon Oil. This is not absolutely certain, but the balance of evidence is persuasive. Also, either Marathon's current "M" logo or its older logo—showing a runner—would fit well into the shield.

Maybe the lot he now stands in was once a Marathon gas station. This would explain the odd shape of the Ice House Tavern building: its wide and low dimensions and its lack of windows look more like an old gas station than a bar.

The large awning at the front reminds me strongly of early gas stations. Wide enough to fit a couple of cars, the pumps would have stood under here.

It's a nice theory. But it doesn't quite fit.

Why, for instance, is the statue facing away from the gas station and away from the road?

Secondly, there is a lot of parking around the Tavern: far more than would have been needed at a gas station. It's the amount of parking you might find at a car dealership or auto repair shop.

So where does that leave us?

I'm pretty sure I'm right about the Ice House Man originally being a Marathon Oil Man. But he has almost certainly been moved--even if it's just that he's been rotated 180 degrees. Either that or the area has been significantly changed since he was put there.

That the Ice House Tavern was once something automobile-related also seems fairly certain and it almost certainly had gas pumps at the front.

Maybe it was a gas station and body shop. This would probably account for everything.

Whatever he once was, we know what the statue is now: the proud but slightly dilapidated mascot of the Ice House Tavern. They even painted him in cool blue colors to match the whole frosty "Ice House" theme. Long may he stay there, welcoming visitors to the bar every evening.

The Ice House Man giant statue
Address: Ice House Tavern, 1550 Walnut St. New Castle, IN, 47362
Phone: (765) 529-9990
Hours: The statue's visible 24/7, the Tavern (which also serves food) is open 7am to midnight Monday through Saturday
Parking: There's plentiful parking right by the statue

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Text: Richard Peevers; Photographs: Natalie Phillips

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When you think of Maryland what images come into your mind? For me, it's crabs, the Chesapeake Bay... and Old Bay Seasoning!

"We used to go to Boardwalk Fries in Baltimore," Natalie grew up in Maryland. Old Bay Seasoning is part of her very fabric. Metaphorically, of course (I hope!).

"Next to the ketchup they always had a big, giant container of Old Bay Seasoning. You'd pour it all over your fries!"

I'm not sure what it is but the aroma of Old Bay, evokes the seaside for me. It's also one of those seasonings that seems to suit most types of food.

"It's best of all on fries, though!"

The story of Old Bay Seasoning begins in the awful tragedy of 1930s Germany. On the night of 9 to 10 November 1938 the Nazis coordinated a massive anti-Jewish pogrom which is now known as Crystal Night or The Night of Broken Glass. 267 synagogues were destroyed, thousands of homes and businesses ransacked or destroyed, 99 Jews were killed and tens of thousands were rounded up.

Gustav Brunn and his family were among those arrested. But somehow, thankfully, Gustav was able to escape with his family. They fled to Baltimore in the USA. The story goes that one of very few possessions he was able to take with him was his spice grinder.

In 1939, Gustav set up a spice store in Baltimore Market Place. Seafood being so popular in Baltimore, Gustav set about creating the ultimate crab seasoning. He called his concoction "Delicious Brand Shrimp and Crab Seasoning".

At that time, bars would give away free crabs to customers as a way of drawing them in. The barkeepers had also learned a cunning trick: if you put a salty seasoning on the crabs, people get thirsty and drink more! You sometimes still find bars that give away salted snacks such as peanuts for just that reason.

Gustav Brunn's seasoning was perfect for the job! It became a huge hit in Baltimore's bars, and then in bars and homes throughout Maryland.

But the name was a bit of a liability: "Delicious Brand Shrimp and Crab Seasoning" hardly tripped off the tongue! Gustav wanted something catchy, but that also evoked the sea and Baltimore. His thoughts turned to the local company, the Baltimore Steam Packet Company. Since 1840 they had run an overnight steamboat service along the Chesapeake Bay, down to Norfolk, Virginia.

The nickname of the Baltimore Steam Packet Company? The Old Bay Line.

The new name, Old Bay, was a huge hit. Gustav even changed the name of his business to The Old Bay Company.

The Old Bay Line closed in 1962. Its days had been numbered when the automobile became popular, cutting the trip from Baltimore to Norfolk to a few hours, far less than the 12-hour journey by steamboat.

The Old Bay you buy today is almost identical to the Old Bay you could buy 70 years ago. Even the distinctive yellow metal container has barely changed!

When it came to tasting Old Bay we decided to have it on French fries, Natalie's favorite way of eating Old Bay.

Watching Natalie prep the bowl of fries was like watching a master at work. She carefully judged the size and mass of the fries before adding just the right amount of salt and just the right amount of Old Bay. She delicately mixed them together so the fries had an even, light coating of Old Bay.

Then she added a dollop of ketchup to the side.

"It's such an unusual flavor," said Natalie after munching a couple of fries.

The dominant scent is celery salt, and it has a wonderfully rich salty-spicy bite to it in your mouth. If you concentrate, you can taste—among others—cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, paprika, mace.

"All those disparate spices come together perfectly."

Within minutes we had devoured the whole bowl of fries. This even though we had already eaten dinner!

Old Bay is like magic in a yellow tin. It seems to go well with almost anything. Go on, try some yourself. Try it on seafood, or fries or anything else!

Most of all, don't forget that when you hold a tin of Old Bay in your hands you're holding a little piece of history and a shining piece of triumph in the face of almost insurmountable adversity.

Old Bay Seasoning Rating
Natalie: 10/10 (but she admits she might be slightly biased)
Richard: 9/10

Text and photographs: Richard Peevers

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This is a bit weird. Necco have released a version of their 1938 classic Sky Bar to tie in with the new Twilight movie, New Moon. It's a bit odd, really.

Subtitled "Heart's Desire" I was confused because it's about two thirds the size of a Sky Bar and a lot lighter. Here's what the original looks like:


When you unwrap the fellas the difference becomes even more noticeable. First, here's the Twilight one:

As you can see, it didn't survive transit very well! The top heart says "Bella", the second says "Cullen" and is supposed to have the Cullen coat of arms on it or something. I don't think the whacking great crack is supposed to be there either. I guess that's a problem with transporting novelty-shaped candies.

Here's the original:

Completely different! They don't appear to have anything in common at all!

"Why on earth is it even called a Sky Bar?" asked Natalie.

At first I had no idea. It turns out that Necco have released two separate Twilight New Moon-Sky Bar chocolate bars. The Heart's Desire and a proper Sky Bar.

We couldn't find the proper Twilight Sky Bar in town, so I had to look around online. Apparently the proper Twilight Sky Bar still looks completely different from a Sky Bar and only has three fillings instead of the usual four.

Hm.

Call me a purist, but if you're not going to make it pretty similar to the original, what's the point in calling it a Twilight "Sky Bar"? If it were a "Snickers" or something, then I'd understand: everybody's heard of Snickers and everybody's heard of Twilight. That way you draw in two audiences. But a Sky Bar is fairly (or unfairly!) obscure these days.

"Can we eat it now, please?" Natalie was getting impatient while I spent forever examining the shape of the bar. It's a pretty cool design, and really cute. It might not be a Sky Bar, but it's a well thought out candy on its own terms.

Splitting it in two, so Natalie could have one half and myself the other was a bit messy. But we got over that trying hurdle pretty quickly.

"Oooh, the filling's yum!"

I agreed with Natalie, "Kind of like a Carbury's Creme Egg, no?"

"Yes," Natalie took another bite. This candy was not made for easy eating. "This is way better than the original Sky Bar!"

Regular readers will remember that she gave it 1/10!

I was a little less impressed, "The chocolate's not so good, though, is it?"

Back with the original Sky Bar, I hadn't noticed the poor quality chocolate, while that was all Natalie could think about. Here, I felt, that the filling really drew attention to the chocolate.

And another thing: the filling isn't one of the classic Sky Bar filling! They had a choice of Peanut, Vanilla, Fudge or Caramel. And they chose "imitation Cabury's Creme Egg!

I was feeling a little cheated: I had been hoping for something a little more Sky Bar-ish.

In all, though, it's a perfectly decent chocolate. Not one I'd get again and certainly not one that lives up to its seventy-year heritage.

Twilight New Moon Heart's Desire Sky Bar Rating
Natalie: 7.5/10 (her original rating was 1/10)
Richard: 7/10 (my original rating was 7/10)

Text and photographs: Richard Peevers

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In the mid-twentieth century, the Dixie Highway ran all the way from Michigan to Florida. Back in the day, it was lined with gaudy roadside attractions: weird and tacky souvenir shops, diners and motels.

But that's all gone now. Almost.

The Dixie Highway became a backwater when the faster Interstate 75 was built in the 1960s. Most of the wonderful buildings were demolished.

But we found one that was still there.

Decrepit, unsafe and falling to pieces, the former truck stop at Williamstown, Kentucky clings on desperately to life.


Sixty years ago, this was a thriving hub. The main building--designed to look like a castle--housed a restaurant, restrooms and other amenities. The top floor was where the owner and workers lived. It was built some time between the 1930s and 1950s.

You can tell that trucking was a men-only business back then: there is only a men's bathroom.

Next to the decaying is the metal tepee. It looks slightly newer--1940s or 1950s. It doesn't tie in with the design of the castle, so was probably added by the Finch Oil Company as a gimmick. Their logo used to be a Native American.

It looks like there was a sign once on top of the tepee, but that's long gone. And the power cables which would have lit it up dangle, wires exposed, down the back of the tepee.

Once, gas pumps stood in front of the tepee, but now the forecourt is bare. Dangerously potholed asphalt and rubble is all you'll find there now.

It's incredible both buildings are still standing. Blocked up and long since abandoned, the metal rusts and the paint is heavily peeled.

When was the building finally, completely abandoned? That is hard to say. In one of the upstairs windows is a sun-bleached advertisement with Gordon Jump as the Maytag Repair Man which was taken around 1989. It looks like it was put there to stop people peering inside the already abandoned building rather than as an advertisement.

In one of the windows of the tepee, an incongruous painting of a Californian Mission at sunset blocks one of the windows.

It's also likely that this has been put here to deter people snooping around the building or breaking in.

The elements have battered the buildings for decades, but they still stand.

But what are they waiting for? The people will never come back; trucks will never pass this way again.

It's just a question of time. The paint will continue to chip, the wood rot, the metal rust. And there will be nothing left. Another reminder of the vibrant, living road that once connected the Midwest to the South will be gone. A little piece of history will be forgotten.

Abandoned Metal Tepee and Castle Truck Stop
Address: On the US 25 in Hilltop just outside of Williamstown. It stands at the junction where KY Route 36 branches off from the US 25.
Hours: 24/7
Admission: Free
Parking: there is a small amount of parking in the forecourt. Unless you have an SUV or truck or something heavy-duty like that, take care while driving on it.

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Text: Richard Peevers; Photographs: Natalie Phillips

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Many myths surround the creation of the "Oh Henry!" bar. But one thing is certain. That the "Oh Henry!" bar is the subject of fierce national rivalry between Canada and the USA that has threatened on more than one occasion to end in fisticuffs!

Okay I'm exaggerating. But you'll see what I mean about American-Canadian rivalry soon.

So how did this confection of peanuts, caramel and fudge all wrapped up in chocolate come about? There are two stories of the creation of the Oh Henry! bar. At first glance they seem contradictory.

The first story is that in 1919, Thomas Henry, owner of Peerless Candy in Arkansas City, Kansas created the "Tom Henry" bar. He sold his bar to Williamson Candy of Chicago in 1920 where they renamed it "Oh Henry!".

The second story is that Williamson Candy developed the bar itself in 1920 but was at a loss of what to call it. The story goes that there was this bloke called Henry who used to visit either the Williamson Candy Company headquarters or their store in Chicago.

One version of the story goes that Henry flirted with the women working there and they replied "Oh Henry, stop it!" or something similar. A second version has Henry as a helpful customer who used to run errands and move boxes for the women who worked there. They would call out "Oh Henry, could you fetch xyz?" The bar was then named after "Oh Henry".

A third and final story of how the candy got its name is that it's an homage to the writer O. Henry, who had died in 1910.

So which is correct? Truth be told, we'll never know. And most people just leave it at that. But I reckon we can make some educated guesses.

Firstly, I think we can discount the "O. Henry" story. It sounds like a later creation. It makes no sense: why name a chocolate bar after a writer (and one that had no association with candy at all)? Why change the name from "O. Henry" to "Oh Henry!". It's pretty obviously a false story.

A key part of the puzzle is working out why Tom Henry would sell his chocolate bar to a rival company.

There are two main possibilities. Firstly, Peerless Candy was a hard candy manufacturer and perhaps Henry didn't want to diversify. Secondly maybe Henry didn't sell all the rights for the Tom Henry bar to Williamson Candy, but sold a regional license. This would make sense when you remember that before refrigerated transport, the candy market in the USA was very fragmented: a chocolate bar produced by Henry in Kansas would never make it to Chicago intact.

So, now we've worked out how the bar was created, that just leaves the name.

I'm sure Williamson Candy, after they bought the rights, would want to rename the candy: why sell a chocolate bar which advertises the name of one of your rivals? The solution would be to look around for a similar name (and so feed off any fame that the bar had developed by then). At this point, the "Oh Henry, could you fetch that box?" story comes in.

We'll never be able to know for certain that this is what happened, but this makes sense of all the information we have.

In 1984, Nestlé bought the rights to make the brand in the United States. Meanwhile, in 1987, Hershey bought the rights to the brand in Canada. And over time, they have evolved rather differently.

The Canadian version is a single, long bar. A tube of fudge runs through the middle; surrounding this is a mixture of peanuts and caramel. You can see a cutaway of the Canadian version in this advertisement from the 1980s:

The US version, however, consists of two smaller bars and the contents is in layers: the fudge is on the bottom and on top of that is the peanut and caramel mixture.

For tasting, we got hold of the US version of the Oh Henry!

"Oooh, it smells peanutty!" It's always a good sign when Natalie says this, I've found.

But on first bite we both found the "Oh Henry!" a bit weird. It was fairly dry and brittle. There was a slight salty taste which dominated the sweetness.

Natalie felt it tasted like it was trying to imitate a Snickers, and she's not far off the mark I don't think. Created in 1930, the Snickers bar seems to have defined the "peanutty chocolate bar" niche while its older sibling is playing catchup.

That's not to say that the Oh Henry! isn't good. It's just that I feel a bit sorry for it: these days it seems to be living in the shadow of its younger sibling.

Nestle Oh Henry! Rating
Natalie: 6/10
Richard: 6.5/10

Text and photographs: Richard Peevers

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A month ago, I hadn't even heard of Black Jack Chewing Gum, the classic licorice flavored gum. Two weeks ago I still hadn't tried any.

Now? Now I love Black Jack Gum with a passion. I even have a drawer full of it. Once you've read the story, you'll understand why it's necessary to hoard Black Jack Gum.

It begins in spring 1836. Texas. The president of Mexico Antonio de Padua María Severino López de Santa Anna y Pérez de Lebrón—usually referred to as Santa Anna—is laying siege to Alamo Mission. His legendary cruelty at the Battle of the Alamo galvanized the Texans into action. Within two weeks, Santa Anna was captured.

Santa Anna was held captive in the United States for a year or so before being allowed to return to Mexico. He was soon back up to his old tricks.

In 1846, Santa Anna used the US-Mexican War crisis to regain the presidency. Attempts were made to oust him, but he always regained control. Until, that is, the extent of his corruption became known and he was forced to flee, first to Cuba then to the USA.

Exiled to New York, Santa Anna still had his eye on the Mexican presidency. Before he could do anything, however, he needed money.

Chicle is the gum of the Manilkara chicle evergreen which grows in central America. Santa Anna saw how expensive rubber was in the United States and he saw a market for chicle as a rubber alternative.

So he imported a huge great lot to New York, planning on selling it to the highest bidder.

Inventor Thomas Adams lived just round the corner from Santa Anna in Staten Island. Santa Anna persuaded Thomas to buy a ton of the chicle.

Thomas tried everything to vulcanize the chicle. Nothing worked. At the point of giving up, he tried boiling it to see what happened.

The result was the first modern chewing gum.

In 1871 Thomas started selling a pure chicle gum called "Snapping and Stretching". Chicle's pretty sweet stuff, so it's not surprising that it sold well.

Then he began to experiment. He concluded that gum was best delivered in a thin stick about three-quarters of an inch wide and three inches long. He also experimented with adding flavor to the chicle.

Then, in 1884, Thomas Adams released Black Jack, the world's first flavored gum onto an unsuspecting world! It was also the first gum to be released in the stick form that we are so familiar with today.

For 90 years it ruled the roost, but in the 1970s things started to go wrong. Products such as Bubble Yum—introduced in 1975—coupled with chewing gums with flavors that lasting a long time were the death knell for the Old Timers such as Black Jack. Before the 1970s ended, production of Black Jack had ceased. It looked like the end.

But in 1985, Thomas Adams' company--now called Cadbury Adams--produced a new batch of Black Jack on a wave of nostalgia.

This set the pattern for the sporadic production of Black Jack Gum over the last three decades. Every three years or so, Cadbury Adams makes another batch. Once they're all sold, then you just have to wait until they make another batch. Which might be years away.

Now you know why I'm hoarding hundreds of sticks of Black Jack Gum in a drawer.

The first thing that strikes you when you pick up a packet of Black Jack Gum is that you can smell the licorice even before you open the wrapper. That sweet, delicious licorice smell.

"Oh my goodness, that smells so awful!" Natalie, I had forgotten, isn't a fan of licorice.

I took out a stick and gently unwrapped it. I took another whiff of the beautiful aroma.

"Ugh, the smell's making me nauseous!" Natalie was not happy.

I said that she didn't need to try the gum, but Natalie took half a stick to see what it was like.

I took the other half. And began to chew.

Wow! This stuff is incredible. Sweet, but not overly so. The licorice was delicate and not too aggressive. Perfectly balanced. I was in heaven.

"I think I'm going to be sick!" Natalie spat out her half stick.

While I was enraptured, Natalie was cleaning her teeth to get the taste out.

"I can tell that it's very high quality," she later explained, "but it tastes awful."

It's sad Natalie isn't a fan, but Black Jack Gum is definitely one of my all-time favorite candies. And it's one with an incredible story stretching right back to The Alamo.

Black Jack Chewing Gum Rating
Natalie: 3/10 (those are points for the quality of the candy)
Richard: 10/10 (superb!)

Text and photographs: Richard Peevers

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No one's entirely sure how it got there, the tree in the clocktower roof. No one's entirely sure how it survives, without any soil to nourish it. The tree in the courthouse in Greensburg, Indiana is an enigma.

Locals like to tell a joke:

Question: Do you know how the tree in the tower gets water?
Answer: From the spring in the clock.

It took the good people of Greensburg seven years to build their courthouse—from 1853 to 1860—and at first they weren't best pleased when they saw a sapling sprouting from the lovely new clocktower of their lovely new courthouse. That was the early 1870s.

Soon it was joined by other trees—making four or five in total. There, at an altitude of 110 feet and with no obvious means of survival, a wooded copse was thriving.

County officials were faced with a dilemma. Already the trees in the courthouse roof were making the new city of Greensburg (it was incorporated in 1859) famous. But equally: look what it was doing to the lovely new building! It could destroy the clocktower!

The 1907-1908 edition of St Nicholas: An Illustrated Magazine for Young Folks (Volume 35, part 1, page 465) takes up the story:

when the courthouse... was remodeled in 1887, the largest tree, then about fifteen feet high, was removed, as its size was thought to render the tower unsafe. Two others on the south side perished from the intense heat. The tree left is found at the north west corner of the tower where the reflection of the heat of the tower is not so intense as at the point where the two others died.

The last surviving tree clung on until 1929 when it eventually succumbed (perhaps it was the gloom of the Great Depression which sent it over the edge). Quite incredibly, however, just at the time this tree died, two others appeared in its place.

In 1958 one of those two trees was removed and—lo and behold!—another tree was found growing there! What an amazing coincidence! Just at the time a tree dies or is removed, another one is found in its place!

Truth be told, no one knows whether these later trees were sneakily planted by courthouse workers or whether they really did grow there spontaneously. It does not really matter either way: it was the continuation of an important local tradition. In fact, they hold a festival for the tree every year.

Some time after 1958, the elder tree was removed leaving just the sprightly young fella up there, and that's the tree—now in its fifties—that you can see today.

Not very big is it, for a fifty year old tree? You've got to remember that the poor thing is clinging on for dear life up there! There's not many nutrients and it's incredibly exposed the elements. It's only natural that it would end up a bit "bonsai".

The tree is pretty incredible, and is the focal point of the town. As the St Nicholas (that Illustrated Magazine for Young Folks we mentioned earlier) said in 1908:

The trees... have been seen by and have excited the curiosity of even "globe-trotters," many of whom have carried news of it to foreign lands.

The same is true today.

But. As my old headmistress used to say, "There's always a but".

But, the first thing we noticed as we arrived in downtown Greensburg wasn't the tree. It was just how beautiful the place was. Look at the courthouse: a lovely mid-nineteenth century red brick neo-classical structure.

Then look at the square surrounding the courthouse: it is littered with buildings from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. These are all, literally and metaphorically, overshadowed by the tree. I could probably write a post about the history each and every building in that square and it would be fascinating.

I'm just going to quickly show you two buildings so you'll see what I mean.

In one corner of the square around the courthouse is a clothes store, here's what it looks like:

At first glance you think "That's a pretty building". But look, look at the top. It says "The Oddfellows 1905".

The Oddfellows? Who or what are the Oddfellows?

The American Odd Fellowship was founded—based on the older British Odd Fellows society—in 1819. It is an altruistic fraternity which aims, in its own words, "To improve and elevate the character of mankind". They gave out scholarships, did charitable deeds. That sort of thing.

Here's a postcard which shows the same building in 1910. It has barely changed:

This building dates from the Odd Fellows' heyday. Indeed, in the early twentieth century they seemed to have three buildings in Greensburg! This one downtown, another on the other side of the square (with I.O.O.F. on its gable, short for International Order of Odd Fellows) and another, larger one, in the outskirts.

It is possible that the two downtown Odd Fellow buildings were not in operation at the same time, or perhaps they were from rival chapters.

When the Odd Fellows went into decline in the mid-20th century, they had to sell off some of their buildings such as the two in downtown Greensburg.

Just a couple of doors down from the Odd Fellows building is Minear's department store:

You can tell by the design that it was constructed later than most of the other buildings in the square. The lack of ornament and the simple rectangular windows mark it as a twentieth century Modern building.

But Minear's has been in the same place a great deal longer than that. Look at this postcard from 1909:

Looks pretty different, doesn't it? You can tell it's the same place, though: look at the gabled building on the left (you can also see the Odd Fellows' building at the far right). What you are looking at is the original Minear's department store.

At some point in the early-mid twentieth century, Minear's bought the buildings on either side of it and demolished them all before building a single larger building to house its expanded store. And that is what you can see today.

As you walk around the square, the rich history of the town surrounds you. Relics of the past are everywhere. One building has "Naegel" etched on it, another "Geo. E. Erdmann". Back 100 years ago, both men were prominent in the Greensburg community. On paving stones around the square you can see the names of residents who have given their life defending the United States, from 1812 to the 1990s.

Greensburg is a town steeped in history. The tree in the clocktower roof is astonishing and quite wonderful, but it is just the leafy tip of the iceberg when it comes to the wonderful town of Greensburg.

Tree in Courthouse Clocktower Roof
Address: Near 150 E. Main Street, Greensburg, Indiana 47240 (this is the best place to view the courthouse in all its glory)
Hours: 24/7
Parking: There is a decent amount of street parking on the roads that make up the square around the courthouse.


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Text: Richard Peevers: Modern Photographs: Natalie Phillips

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