Step right up and get your mouthwatering hoagies right here!
While sauntering down the main boulevard of the bustling street fair with a tray full of freshly made submarine sandwiches, I delivered my energetic pitch to appeal to the hunger pangs of fairgoers, large and small, in an attempt to increase the profit margin for our church’s youth organization.
This soon-to-be eighth grader nabbed the ingenious idea from the roving hot dog vendor while attending a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball game at Three Rivers Stadium with the Royal Rangers the previous summer.
“What better way to sell as many hoagies as possible,” I mused with a shrewd look, all while attaching a leather strap neck harness to an antique bread tray while making last minute modifications at the workbench inside our two-car garage the night before the community-wide exposition.
By the time I made it back to our booth, situated right in front of the municipal building at the corner of Lawrence Avenue and Sixth Street, my wooden tray was completely empty, and both my blue jean pockets were stuffed with cold hard cash.
Load me up with more of those delectable hoagies — they’re selling like hotcakes.
Immediately after Mom, the chief adviser for the Ellwood City Assembly of God youth group, read about the inaugural arts, crafts and food festival in the local newspaper, she quickly sent our booth registration fee to the event organizers and rallied the troops to raise necessary funds for the biggest event of the year.
“Settle down, guys and gals,” proclaimed the minister’s wife, clapping her hands to get the attention of the talkative bunch. “Since I’ve registered our youth group to participate in the town’s first-ever street fair, we need to come up with a game plan to have our hoagie booth ready for action.”
“We can meet at the church an hour before the event kicks off to set up an assembly line,” outlined Jeannie Mars, taking detailed notes during the meeting. “We’ll start the day with two hundred hoagies and make more as needed on site.”
“My dad will gladly let us borrow one of the Royal Rangers pop-up canopy tents for our booth,” offered Dirk Arkwright, who also happily agreed to set it up on the last Friday in June.
The smooth-talking Riverside high schooler also managed to twist my arm into helping him assemble the outdoor shelter at the appointed time.
If it were anyone else, I’d tell them to take a long walk off a short pier.
When Commander William “Bill” Arkwright and his silver-tongued offspring arrived at the church parsonage in their orange suburban on the morning of the street fair, I hopped into the second row of seating with my homespun vendor food tray to head downtown while the rest of my family helped with hoagie prep work in the bowels of the giant edifice next door.
Are you ready to sell some triple meat and cheese sub sandwiches?
“I was born ready,” I replied, channeling my best John Wayne impression, repeating the line from his 1953 film, Hondo. “Since I constructed this handy vending tray with an attached harness, I’ll be able to sell hoagies from one end of the festival to the other; because you’ve gotta go where the people are.”
Looks like someone’s been using their head for more than just a hat rack.
Shortly after the animated trio finished setting up the church’s food booth at its designated spot along the wide sidewalk, the rest of our group arrived with the ready-made edible merchandise just as the townsfolk were allowed into the cordoned-off area to begin the historic event.
Not only were there a variety of food booths—including ethnic foods, corn dogs, cotton candy and batter-dipped onion rings — lined up and down the main thoroughfare, but there were also plenty of arts and crafts, such as finger and face painting, sketch artists, painters and photographers; and several homegrown bands provided musical entertainment.
Once this high-spirited entrepreneur returned to the youth group’s booth to restock his makeshift vending cart with more appetizing sandwiches, Dirk persuaded him into taking a well-deserved lunch break to soak up the festive atmosphere and sample some of the other vendors’ delicious delicacies.
“Alright, Mister Moneybags,” snickered the rising sophomore with a broad smile, as he helped fish out the wad of greenbacks stuffed in my blue jean pockets. “You’ve been working this street all morning like a sandwich hero, fighting the evil forces of hunger one hoagie at a time; so, it’s time you and I get something to eat.”
Can we get a funnel cake?
You can have whatever you like, little buddy.
“You’re going to regret offering my brother the whole enchilada when you come back with an empty wallet,” chuckled my big brother John as he made change for a customer.
Look who’s talking, Mister Bottomless Pit!
As soon as the high school track star and I finished wiping powdered sugar from our mouths and washing down the delectable fried dough with the last drops of Coca-Cola, we stopped by a water gun game to test our aim before heading back to the youth group’s hoagie booth.
“This game’s harder than it looks,” admitted the cautious 15-year-old while explaining the object of the popular carnival game to me. “To beat your opponents in this game of skill, you have to keep the stream of water directly on the clown’s mouth; otherwise, the little ball won’t make it to the top.”
Since you’re an avid hunter, we both know who’s gonna win this game.
Directly after two more would-be sharpshooters took the nearby empty seats, the race against time commenced with the sound of the bell.
Unable to keep the stream of water on the target, my yellow ball barely made it halfway up the pole; but my brother from another mother, sitting in the seat next to me, did exactly as expected — he walked away with a teddy bear.
Although our youth group made over $1,000 that weekend, my favorite memory of the street fair was when my self-appointed guardian angel handed me that stuffed animal to take home.
As we neared our destination, I leaned into him with a gentle squeeze around the waist, thanking my lucky stars for our cherished friendship. That fuzzy Panda was more than a prize — it was a symbolic reminder.