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In Wichita, Kan., George W. Winters thought his three boys should work in summer, could find them no jobs. He bought the village of Waco Wego including garage, filling station, candy shop, general store, cafe, retired from real estate business, set his sons to running Waco Wego.

Charivari

In the Marengo Valley near Ashland, Wis., one Arvo Juoni, Finnish farmer, took a bride, remained with her at the farmhouse of her father, John Peterson, for a quiet, peaceful honeymoon. As Juoni & bride were about to retire there appeared outside the house a band of Finnish youths and maidens, beating tin pans, blowing horns, and demanding $15 tribute to stop. Father Peterson indignantly refused, so the charivari continued all night while father, bride & groom vainly tried to sleep.

Next night a larger party came, augmented their din with wash boilers, drums, iron hoops, hammers, fiddles. Father Peterson, mad clear through, swore he would not pay one cent of tribute. Chairman Heino Nuutinen of the charivari committee retorted that they would stay there till he did, if it took a year. Twelve nights the charivari continued while Father Peterson grew grimmer and grimmer, Juoni & bride grew paler and weaker. The band grew larger, jumped to 40, doubled overnight. To the horns, tin pans, boilers, drums,, hoops, hammers, fiddles, were added saxophones, beer trays, cow bells, circular saws. Father Peterson appealed to Sheriff Elmer Saunders, had four leaders arrested, held in $50 bond by Ashland's Municipal Judge Thomas A. Humphrey. The next night the din was louder, included the popping of pistols. Father Peterson appeared at his door with a shotgun, was forced to retire.

On the thirteenth day Juoni wrote a letter to Governor Philip Fox La Follette, begging him to do something. ''It is the neighbors," he complained. "We have appealed to the sheriff but the charivari is still going on. ... The sheriff let them all go as soon as he had arrested them.

We don't think it will do any good to go to the sheriff again, so we appeal to you for relief."

That night the noisemakers collected several hundred recruits. Sheriff Saunders with a posse confiscated horns, pans, boilers, drums, hoops, hammers, fiddles, saxophones, trays, bells, saws and guns, only to see Finns appear from miles around with fresh noise-making machines.

On the fifteenth night the Juoni-Peterson stronghold capitulated. With Sheriff Saunders acting as liaison officer, the Juonis offered to serve pickled herring, 200 sandwiches and 200 cups of coffee to 200 guests in return for a night's sleep. The charivarists accepted, ate the herring and sandwiches, drank the coffee, left with a bowl filled with $30 in silver. Outside they were aghast to find that Sheriff Saunders had departed with all their horns, pans, boilers, drums, hoops, hammers, fiddles, saxophones, trays, bells, saws, firearms and new noisemaking machines.

Next day a delegation called on the sheriff, asked for their return, explaining they needed them to serenade another bride & groom. The sheriff pondered.

Charivari (German, Katzenmusik; English, "rough-music," "belling"; American, "Shivaree") originated in medieval France where it was the custom to mock-serenade all newlywed couples, later was restricted to those who remarried too soon or into the families of deceased mates. Early in the 17th Century it was forbidden by the Council of Tours under pain of excommunication. The practice was brought to Louisiana and Canada by French immigrants, later spread through Pennsylvania Dutch to other rural settlements, was common two generations ago in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Kansas, Nebraska. No stigma is attached to a charivari in the U. S. Most popular instruments are kitchen utensils and cow bells, but if the groom refuses to furnish food and drink it is deemed fair to fire blank cartridges, throw stones, rotten eggs, dead cats.

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