A Carnival. It Must Be Summer – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

A Carnival. It Must Be Summer – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

The Carnival was a happening of the summer season, calling friends, neighbors, and even teachers to gather around the festive sounds and smells that only a carnival can produce. An opening-night parade summoned us to the bright carnival lights and oompah-rhythmic carousel music. 

Our carnival was on the grounds of the Saint Vincent de Paul Home overlooking Valley Street and the City of Providence . . . a plot just large enough to tuck in the carnival.

Brassy sounds and distant glows painted the horizon, beckoning us as we walked along steamy streets, passing bungalows, three-deckers and family businesses, one of them Paul’s Lemonade Store where, for a nickel, we bought a cup loaded with lemons and iced enough to give us a headache. Glittering lights, music, the merry go round, cotton candy, candy apples, booths for games of chance, and raffles welcomed us.

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The first rides we saw were the boat swings and a Ferris Wheel. The swings rewarded strength as the boys, fearless, demonstrated how high they could fly, leaning backward, tempting the edges while tugging on knotted ropes. Start low, pull hard, rise on toes, fly high.

When the Ferris Wheel stopped, kids swayed the cars. Workers below cupped their greasy hands and screamed through cigarette stained teeth, “Hey kids, stop that rockin’ or I’ll trow yer a_ _ off!”

Around the perimeter were booths for ball tossing (heavy milk bottles, light balls), ring tossing (small rings, large square pegs), games of chance (for losers), spinning wheels (never on my number), and a climbing horse race where the winning prize was a Chinese finger trap. We circled the perimeter, the steady sounds of the carousel’s mechanized band playing on autopilot . . . oom, pa, pa, oom, pa, pa . . . slapping drums, clanging bells, crashing cymbals . . . oom, pa, paaa, oom, pa, paaa . . . 

Surrounding the ticket booth was a stage crowned with lights, and trailers for drinks and food; candied apples, popcorn, whorls of cotton candy,  Saugy hot dogs with mustard, pizza, a frozen Charleston Chew, a Creamsicle, Hoodsies (a movie star, inside cover), washed down by an Eclipse drink or a Nehi soda. The mixture of smells was sweet, sour, boiled, doughy and steamy.

And there were the events. A ten-mile opening night road race attracted the great runners, one of them John Kelly of Boston Marathon fame. “Kelly broke the record tonight, ten miles in 48 minutes,” Dad said. Late evening events included wrestling for small people with the great Sonny Boy Cassidy, Irish step dancers, band concerts, accordion ensembles, pie and watermelon eating contests, boring speakers, apple bobbers, and the final evening’s highlight, the car (Chevy) raffle.

We opened and closed the carnival on most nights. There was little match for the anticipation of the first and the sadness of the last. With promises kept and expectations fulfilled, the summer highlight had passed.

I walked home with wonderful memories and . . .  a Chinese finger trap.

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here.