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Show the Chautauqua tent in the afternoon. after-noon. One of these picnics resulted re-sulted in a family squabble which was one of the few I remember. Everybody brought something for the picnic, of course, usually usual-ly fried chicken and pickles and potato salad and us kids took turns grinding the ice cream freezer. But one Sunday it was learned to dismally damning dismay that nobody had brought any bread. WE HAD SOME "off cousins the rest of the folks called Cultivators, and they absolutely refused to spend money on the Sabbath. No bread. The group split into two religious factionsshall fac-tionsshall we go without bread or send a buggy uptown after just enough bread to barely get by? Dad, I remember, lined up with the Cultivators, and some of his Presbyterian relatives didn't speak for months. Meanwhile, Mean-while, the flies took over on the spread-out picnic lunch. The ice cream was done. Hungry kids started to bawl and two cousins got into a fist-fight. Uncle George, the biggest man in the mob, settled everything. every-thing. He brought out his Bible and read, in a deeply sonorous voice which made his red mustache mus-tache bristle, about the ox in the pit, rescued on the Sabbath. We bought bread but the Cultivators still wouldn't eat it. Dad et. Ah, Chautauqua. In the face of today's naked vodvil and disgustingly dis-gustingly nasty jokes, how could it ever compete? I hope it does, somehow. Mac. ACCORDING TO the National Geographic, Chautauqua is making a come-back. And what nostalgia the very word brings bake. Most people under 50 never heard of it. It's pronounced sha TOCK wa, and "in the good old days" it was sort of vaudeville in a big tent in the summertime. It was the only opportunity small-towners and farm people had to see stage presentations and they were widely varied. A big tent was set up, and planks were mounted on kegs or blocks for people to sit upon. These planks always smelledof resin, somehow, and a small boy's pants stuck to them. "Rich folks" brought their own chairs, to the sneers of common people, and lots of spectators brought cushions. THERE WERE LECTURES, and there were comedians, always clowns with huge noses, and the jokes were always clean. There was magic, but the pretty girl assistant wore a knee-length knee-length dress over her tights. There were dancing groups, but never a can-can. And there were singers, soloists, duets and small groups. ' Some famous people made the rounds of Chautauqua. I remem-. ber somebody who almost discovered dis-covered the North Pole, and he had husky dogs and a sled and a Mexican section hand whom he insisted was an Eskimo. Midgets Mid-gets went through Katsenjam-mer Katsenjam-mer kids routines, and they were mean to the little old midget mid-get lady who was so tired. Dogs jumped through hoops and danced on hind legs. Parrots refused to answer questions. Acrobats swung back and forth about 10 feet off the stage. A strong man bent an iron bar (they said he was very drunk by midnight). One day he ripped his imitation tiger-skin pants. Right up the back, Of the seat. IT WAS USUALLY very hot in Nebraska at Chautauqua time, and the dressing room curtains could not . be tightly closed. We used to peek, but never saw anything but the strong man taking a drink. Out in the audience aud-ience there was a constant rustle as hundreds of fans waved rhythmically back and forth. They were handed out free by the local mortician. Sunday was different. We had to go to church as usual in the morning, but then there was a picnic on the river bank at noon and more religious talk in |