Trick or Treat

It was a late Halloween afternoon, 1960 in Saratoga Springs, New York. The ponies had all gone south for the winter as had most of the birds that spent their summers in this bucolic hamlet. But it was clear that Saratoga Springs aspired to wealth and notoriety beyond its modest size ... with its hot-spring spas, its stately mansions and its miniaturized versions of everything else that was “New York City.” (It even had a Kosher delicatessen, “Moshe’s.”) The daylight was now fading fast as Eastern Standard Time had been re-introduced the weekend before ... just in time to force youngsters to go begging for their candy in the dark. This societal idiocy was ameliorated this particular year by a very bright harvest moon that gave off an orange glow like a sinister jack-o-lantern.

The kids along Congress St. in this tiny berg were doing all the things that children normally do on Halloween ... skipping through the fallen leaves, car egging, window soaping, tree toilet papering, and, of course, trick or treating. They were costumed out as poltergeists and puppy dogs, comic book heroes and cake-walkers, doppelgangers and desperadoes, ghouls and gorillas, ballerinas and boxers, grandmas and even one Gumby. As they went door to door for their penny candies, apples, and small change; it was clear that Congress St. was also a remake of an old New York City thoroughfare -- the 52nd St of the 1950s. For at every answered door was a young woman drawn from a wide variety of hues who was generally scantily clad, heavily made-up, and clearly hoping for a client from the rapidly diminishing tourist population ... or one of the returning college boys ... not a munchkin with a held-in-front brown paper bag.

Now Clement Whether, at 14, was a little older than the rest of the Halloween revelers, but, being a little slow of wit, still clung to the his childhood delights. Having recently moved to “The Springs,” he hadn’t yet been clued into the real function of Congress St. So he turned onto this shady lane in eager anticipation of sugary rewards. Clem was dressed as Samson with a large club, a fur loin cloth, and sandals ... an appropriate facsimile since he was well-muscled from his summer’s lumber jacking. At the third house on the left Clem was greeted by a gorgeous nymph, stripped to her smile, who, when Samson reddened and stammered “trick or treat?”, replied with a sultry look, “Both ... my trick will be your treat, handsome.”

© Copyright,  George W. Potts