The essence of Buffalo Stories is defining and celebrating the people, places, and things that make Buffalo… Buffalo.
That’s Buffalo’s pop culture heritage-– and that’s what you’ll find as you scroll through these stories or search the collected works of one of WNY’s most prolific pop culture historians of the last decade for something specific…
For a good part of the 1952-1958 run of “The Adventures of Superman” on ABC-TV, when you saw Clark Kent, Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen behind the wheel of a car, the car they were driving was a Nash.
Originally known for stylish sports cars, by 1955, after Nash became a division of American Motors Corporation, the Nash line was promoting itself as the perfect, sensible second car now that more and more women had to drive all around suburbia to tackle their domestic chores.
Sixty years ago this week, as one News ad touted that the distinctive-looking cars were starting at just $1,640, Buffalo’s newest Nash dealer was opening on Walden Avenue just west of Bailey Avenue on Buffalo’s East Side.
In July 1955, a group of Ohio housewives had prospecting fever, after a friend in Canada mentioned they found what they thought was uranium in an abandoned mine. The women, Geiger counter in hand, traveled to a spot 200 miles northeast of Toronto, found radiation, and staked their claims to millions.
Trying to angle in on the hopes of Buffalonians, within weeks of write-ups in all the papers and magazines about the discovery, Sattler’s had a full array of radiation detection equipment available.
Make no mistake, buying the equipment to check your own property for uranium—or to run up to the Canadian brush to stake a claim there—wasn’t cheap. The featured $149 machine would roughly cost $1,300 in 2015 dollars according to federal government calculators. The scintillator, which gives more advanced breakdowns of radiation, was $4,400 in today’s money.
But for $29.95, (2015-$250), a base model Geiger Counter was “perfect for weekend 49ers.”
As the jingle famously reminded us, “shop and save at Sattler’s, 998 Broadway.”
It’s impossible to think of pop in the 1980s without thinking of the Cola Wars.
You might remember the Cola Wars as Coke vs. Pepsi, but 30 years ago this week; another cola took space in The News to remind you they were just as good.
RC Cola, the ad says, beat out New Coke and Pepsi in blind taste tests, “turning the cola world upside down.” RC Cola remained popular in Buffalo, and was even the soft drink served in Mighty Taco.
This week at Bells, yet another national brand cola was on sale: Like Cola was 7-Up’s entry in the cola market.
At Super Duper, the most economical way to enjoy a cola was with a Red & White big three-liter bottle. Super Duper also had Diet Faygo selections on sale.
Pop wasn’t all about the cola, though. In 1984, Pepsi replaced its lemon-lime flavored Teem with Slice. In 2000, the Slice brand name was replaced by Sierra Mist.
One of the most disturbing crimes in Western New York history happened 30 years ago today: Sept. 16, 1985.
John Justice killed his parents and brother in a blood bath in their Village of Kenmore home. As he sped away from the scene, he killed a 22-year-old neighbor in a fiery crash on Military Road.
In 2013, News reporter Lou Michel wrote a piece on the state Office of Mental Health beginning legal proceedings for Justice to be declared mentally unfit for release when his prison term expires in 2015.
In 2011, Steve Watson’s story about houses of infamy, sites of horrific crimes that gripped the community mentioned the fate of the Justice home.
The first football team ever to be named the Buffalo Bills got their name from an essay contest in 1947, and in a move that seems to echo the sports of today more than the sports of four generations ago, Jimmy Dyson won the contest by appealing to the sponsors.
Dyson, who lived on Norwood Avenue while working for the Pennsylvania Railroad, made the connection between Buffalo Bill, the Wild West, football and — most importantly, perhaps — the contest’s sponsor, Frontier Oil.
The Buffalo Bills played in the All-America Football Conference for three seasons. When Ralph Wilson brought an American Football League team to Buffalo in 1960, another contest was held, and “Buffalo Bills” was the most popular entry. As Ralph Wilson told Bob Curran in this piece, “I could not see any reason why we should change the name.”
So the next time you say “Go Bills,” thank James F. Dyson. And in Bob Curran’s memory, say a prayer for the guys Over There.
Like just about anything marketed to kids, there is the cool and the uncool — what you want, and what you usually get. So it was with the heavily marketed snack cakes of the 1980s.
As kids of the 80’s compared what was in their Smurfs and Alf lunchboxes, the gold standard in snack cakes were usually the Hostess-brand cakes such as Twinkies, Ho-Ho’s and Sno-Balls. High class and, of course, high cost. The commercial where the kids on a playground talked to a cartoon snack cake about how they get the cream in a Twinkie is one you’ll be amazed that you remember the words to if you were a TV child of the 80’s like me. Here, go ahead and test yourself:
The fact that there were coupons for Dolly Madison’s Zingers in The News 30 years ago this week probably made it far more likely that some of us would be eating those. Before Dolly Madison and Hostess wound up being owned by the same corporate conglomerate, Buffalo had several Dolly Madison Bakery thrift stores. Those later became Hostess/Wonder Bread outlets, where lucky kids of the ’90s had parents leave with discount Hostess fruit pies. Dolly Madison’s marketing wasn’t nearly as impressive — it was all Peanuts and Charlie Brown related. That’s not to say that kids of the 80’s didn’t enjoy watching Peanuts specials on TV, but not necessarily because they were so great; it was just that those specials were literally our only chance to see cartoons on TV during prime time. I mean, Charlie Brown was fine, but he wasn’t going to influence my snack decisions.
Then there was Little Debbie, the low-budget champion of snack cakes, and we kids realized this no matter what brands our parents bought. A kid with a buck at Wilson Farms, B-kwik or your neighborhood corner store could buy four Little Debbies — but only one package of Twinkies.
The marketing seemed to matter little when faced with the decision on how to part with our own hard-earned cash, and the Little Debbie bang-for-the-buck usually wound up being the winner, even if Zebra Cakes barely belonged in the same vaunted class at the Twinkie.
Judging by the smells, tastes, and smiles of its first day, the Parkside Meadow (corner of Parkside and Russell avenues, Buffalo) looks poised to be an institution on par with the warmly remembered predecessor you couldn’t go five minutes without hearing about.
Opening night at the Parkside Meadow, Parkside and Russell Avenues, across the street from the Buffalo Zoo. Over locally brewed beers, people remembered the old Park Meadow, enjoyed the tasteful memorabilia displayed and waited for a chance to taste gourmet takes on a variety of sandwiches. (Steve Cichon/Special to The News)
Echoes of the old Park Meadow, the venerable neighborhood fish fry place-turned college party hangout, were everywhere, as strangers reminisced about their days and nights in the PM — those memories growing as hazy as they were on some of those nights.
The good news is the Parkside Meadow, just like the people who remember the old PM, has grown more sophisticated in its current iteration, cultivating a more subdued yet still fascinating environment for drinks and imaginative and tasty takes on sandwich favorites.
The 1950s Iroquois Beer neon sign on the front window offers a pretty good idea of what you should expect inside. (Steve Cichon/Special to The News)
Aside from the stories that come along with the building, the place has been tastefully decorated in with hundreds of museum quality pieces of Buffalo’s industrial, retail, and beer drinking past. Dozens of matchbooks from Buffalo taverns and gin mills of yesteryear. Stoneware jugs from Buffalo’s oldest brewers and distillers. Boxes and crates once filled with bottles of beer like Simon Pure, Iroquois, and Beck’s, all once brewed by proud Buffalonians.
Among the old Buffalo taverns remembered on the walls of the new Parkside Meadow: The Park Meadow, which was a neighborhood fish fry and college party institution from the 1950s through the 1980s. (Steve Cichon/Special to The News)
From the display cases, to the walls, down to each tabletop, food delivered to your tabletop is almost an interruption of taking in what Buffalo once was. But then you take a bite, and it’s all about the plate in front of you.
Among the blasts from the past: Salt and pepper shakers made from Visniak and other old Buffalo pop bottles. (Steve Cichon/Special to The News)
The menu is simple. It’s a single sheet of heavy stock with a large selection of gourmet-style takes on sandwiches ranging from shaved lamb to fried bologna plus a few salads and larger entrees. The menu offers a chance for some interesting tastes on a corner tavern budget– nine of the menu’s 11 sandwiches are less than $10 and include fries. The full bar offers seven different locally sourced beers on tap, ranging from McKenzie’s Hard Cider and Rusty Chain to the venerable Genesee.
Opening night was a Friday night, and just like any good Buffalo spot, fish was on the menu. Three broiled options and one fried. The Hush puppy and beer-battered fish fry is a true-to-the-original twist on a Buffalo favorite, with batter that was a hint sweet and very thick and tasty.
A Buffalo Friday night at the Parkside Meadow: Hush puppy beer-battered haddock, with skin-on fries and cole slaw, and a Genesee draft. (Steve Cichon/Special to The News)
Whether you have foggy memories of the Park Meadow you’d like to relive or you’re just looking for a new spot that from food to atmosphere is really different from any other place in Buffalo, a stop at the Parkside Meadow is recommended.
Today’s marketing of tissues and toilet paper focuses mostly on the comfort and effectiveness of the products in question.
Fifty years ago this week, in September, 1965, the only marketing message the ladies of Western New York were getting about Loblaw’s bathroom and facial tissue is that it’s not quite as embarrassing as the other brands.
“Lady like” tissue — the Loblaw’s store brand — was on sale in both white and in colors, from the days when we were all a little less ladylike in our concern over what toilet paper dyes might be doing to our environment and water supply.
In 1966, the Buffalo City Directory lists four Star Markets in Buffalo, including the building that houses Dash’s on Hertel Avenue today. There were 10 Loblaw’s locations, among them the current Panera Bread location on Elmwood Avenue, and the Valu Home Centers location on Kenmore Avenue near Englewood.
Fifty years ago, the U.S. auto industry was coming off a record year, and the number of autoworkers churning out car parts in Buffalo area plants was also at record levels.
More than 20,000 Western New Yorkers worked in one of four GM/Chevy plants, and just under 5,000 worked for Ford. All plants were at or just under peace-time employment records, and 50 years ago yesterday, The News went plant-by-plant for an update on what’s to come.
Today, in 2015, there are about 20,500 fewer Western New York paychecks coming from Detroit’s big automakers.
There are 1,805 employees at GM’s Tonawanda Engine Plant and 1,587 at the GM Lockport components plant. Ford reports 961 workers at the Woodlawn Stamping Plant, for a 2014 total of about 4,400 employees at sites owned by auto manufacturers in Buffalo.
Fifty years ago this week, if you were looking for a quick bite to eat in Buffalo, chances are that one of the 31 Your Host restaurants crossed your mind as a possibility.
At a time when eating out might have been more of a gamble, Your Host promised air conditioning, 100 percent beef and real cream for your coffee.
These ads all appeared in The Buffalo Evening News during the week of September 6, 1965.
By Steve Cichon
Originally known for stylish sports cars, by 1955, after Nash became a division of American Motors Corporation, the Nash line was promoting itself as the perfect, sensible second car now that more and more women had to drive all around suburbia to tackle their domestic chores.
