On the evening of Aug. 25, I ventured downtown and arrived to see the bicyclists ride triumphantly to victory. Then I occupied a bench facing Buffalo Street and listened to a rock band blast out with some wild tunes. As I watched the crowd mill about, I thought, "Well, this is one Saturday evening when downtown Warsaw has once more come alive."
On regular Saturday evenings, whenever I sit on the bench and gaze down Center Street, I detect very little activity. Traffic isn't always heavy, and the only pedestrians I observe are those individuals who wander into Kelainey's Ice Cream Shop, or Mad Anthony's Tap House. Otherwise, both Center and Buffalo streets, at times, border on the brink of desertion. Quite often, I start to reminisce, and my thoughts carry me back to that era when downtown Warsaw was a thriving, hustle-and-bustle community where, back in the '30s and '40s, practically everybody in the county managed to spend a few hours on Saturday night.
How well most of we elderly folks can recall the many business establishments that once lined the streets of downtown Warsaw. There were lots of stores on Center and Buffalo, not to mention the Strand and Centennial theatres. I recollect that Ralph Boice made a pile off of the farmers each Saturday night showing those two-bit westerns where John Wayne, Buck Jones and Gene Autry shot up the saloon. The farmers flocked to the strand on Saturday night for their dearly loved those horse operas, and, on occasion, a viewer (not necessarily a farmer), who chewed tobacco would get so excited over a violent shoot-out between the hero and the bad guy, that he would let loose with a heavy stream of tobacco juice that ended up either against the wall or on the floor of the theater.
Among the places of business, the Klondaris Candy Kitchen at the corner of Center and Buffalo was a fine place to frequent for delicious candy and ice cream treats. The Klondaris family was a beautiful clan to know and patronize, for they took a personal interest in each and every one of their customers. (I truly miss Jim, who always had a good word for everybody, and Terry is a friendly, congenial fellow.)
Then, there was Warren Rosbrugh, who worked for the Central Shoe Store. Warren always greeted everyone with a cheerful "hello" and a bright, pleasant smile. Everybody liked Warren; furthermore, in the old days, Warren could sell you the best pair of shoes on the market for five or six dollars, or even less.
In closing, I just want to say it's enjoyable to reminisce over those days of long ago when downtown Warsaw was a flourishing, fast-moving little metropolis on Saturday night. Those exhilarating, good-time Saturday nights of yesteryear are long gone, but we can still keep them fresh in our memory.
