A Martinsburg Boy's Memories and Stories from the 1950s

John Bush was raised in Martinsburg and graduated from Central High in 1961. He spent most of his adult life in the Pacific Northwest. He has many memories as a boy in the 1950s that give some insight to the people and culture of Martinsburg in the 1950s. John likes to tell stories and over the years he has repeated the stories of his youth many times.

His belief is that those years in Martinsburg influenced him all of his life. Some of the stories are historical in nature, some are colorful, and some are personal. He wishes that you enjoy them.

Ice Cream And The 4th of July Carnival

In the summer of 2023, I attended a potluck dinner held for landowners along Potter Creek. One family brought homemade raspberry ice cream. It reminded me of those summer days in the Cove where it was common for ice cream to be churned in the basements of many homes.

Trips to get an ice cream cone were also important. Our family took many trips to Ritchey’s Dairy and to Meadows in Hollidaysburg where frozen custard could be bought.

Older boys with wheels hung out at Ritchey’s and also at Meadows. Girls and being cool were as important as the ice cream. Trips to Huntingdon were highlighted with a stop at Fouse’s Dairy near James Creek. Milkshakes, root beer floats, and ice cream sundaes could be purchased at many pharmacies and drive-in restaurants. Today ice cream places, including Ritchey’s, are busy in the summers but you don’t go there for the drive or to be cool. You go there for the ice cream.

In the 1990s, I was reminded of how important going for a drive and getting an ice cream was back in the day. I was teaching a graduate-level course at the University of Idaho when one of my students, who was raised on a farm near Indiana, Pennsylvania, related that the only travels as a family that he remembered from growing up were weekend trips to the Cove to get ice cream at Ritchey’s.

His father was following his own father’s tradition of going to the Cove for ice cream during the late 1950s. Over the years, I ran into other folks from the Altoona area who traveled on weekends to the Cove to get out of the city and their main stop was Ritchey’s Dairy.

The largest event for a young teenager in Martinsburg was the Fourth of July celebration. Besides the parade and fireworks, there were the arrival and presence of amusement rides and games at Memorial Park. Boys were free to run around there without parents, and I attended nearly every evening.

Most of my newspaper route money was spent in a couple of days. Besides the rides, there were games of chance and skill, some of which were run by local organizations. One game that I played a lot involved a ball about the size of a soccer ball. It was rolled onto an enclosed area that had holes cut smaller than the ball. Each of those holes had a different color painted around the edges. One could place nickel bets on which color hole the ball would finally come to rest.

I guess there were no rules about kids under 18 betting, because I played there a lot. When I was in my late teens, I went to the park to hang out with friends and pretend to be an adult.

Older teens tried their skills at other games such as attempting to knock down puppets lined up at the back of tent booths. Another attraction was a “ring-the-bell” physical contest where one would choose a wooden mallet and hit a rubber pad which was mounted on a plank that rested on a fulcrum. Once the pad was struck, the force would send a metal weight toward the bell. You got a prize if you could ring the bell. Many young men tried this game, hitting the center of the pad as hard as they could. The crowd would cry out if the metal weight got close to the bell, but few would win a prize.

Sometimes we would bet each other on who could send the weight the highest. I was small and rarely tried that game. Glenn Drake, a classmate, was a strong young man, and one year (I think we were seniors) we figured out how to increase the odds. Most guys hit the center of the pad with all their might. Glenn and I apparently had learned something from physics class and realized that it would be best to hit the outer edge of the pad to create the most force. He never did ring the bell, but we won a couple of bets with a few of the older guys and walked away smiling.

There were other attractions that were set up at the west end of the trees. Typically, there would be a platform in front of a long, enclosed trailer. Inside were supposed to be such sights as bearded ladies, cobra snakes, the tallest man in the world, and other people and things that you would never see in the Cove.

There was also the knife-throwing act. My friends and I soon figured out that they were fakes and didn’t spend any money there.

Local organizations sold all kinds of food, snacks and non-alcoholic beverages. Frozen custard was sold out of a side window of the Jesse Hoover house on the corner of 1st Alley and South Walnut Street next to the park.

Carnivals were also common at numerous places in communities outside of the Cove. They were very similar except that some featured “girly” shows. Glenn and I went to one our senior year, but we were not impressed.

In past summers, my wife and I have gone to the carnival at Memorial Park. The best part was watching the kids have fun on the rides. Rides were as expected — and more sophisticated than those in the 1950s.

There were also several games of chance and local organizations selling food. One thing that I noted was the difference in dress between the attendees what we used to call the “carnies.” I recall that the workers in the ‘50s stood out with their tattoos and sloppy dress. Now, for the most part, the workers dress more conservatively than the attendees.