Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories. With Marysville and Union County celebrating Bicentennial anniversaries in 2019 and 2020, respectively, these articles help depict what life was like in those early years.
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Have you ever bobbed for apples?
My Grandmother Tracy often told me about bobbing for apples when she was a young girl. But then, she was born in 1860, the same year Abraham Lincoln was elected president. In those days, bobbing for apples was a popular thing to do at parties and events like that.
I have only bobbed for apples once in my life, and I’d like to tell you a bit about it. It was in the fall of 1948, when I went to a party at the home of a girl named Gayle Williams. She was one year ahead of me in school, and she lived on West Seventh Street. Her father, Paul Williams, was the president of the Scotts Company.
It was a really nice party, and it was held in the basement of Gayle’s house. One room was set up for dancing. An adjacent room held a long table full of food.
A man named Pete Calloway was dressed in a white coat and chef’s hat as he sliced ham for all of us hungry kids. At the other end of the room there were individual tables and chairs so we could eat whenever we wanted all evening long. That was perfect for a bunch of teenagers.
There was one area near the bottom of the basement steps that was cleared of everything except a large washtub full of water. I saw that tub when I first entered the basement, and I had no idea why it was there. But partway through the evening, Gayle’s dad announced that we would bob for apples there. I thought that might be fun, so I got in line.
Gayle’s dad explained the rules: two kids would bob at a time, one on each side of the tub. We would get on our hands and knees and try to retrieve an apple with our teeth. Any kid caught using his/her hands would be disqualified.
I should say at this point, that I really wanted to impress Gayle’s dad. You see, I planned on talking with him the following spring to apply for a summer job at the Scott’s grass plots on West Sixth Street. Every summer a few college kids were hired to mow and maintain those plots. They didn’t often hire high school boys, but I thought I’d give it a try.
When the bobbing started, Gayle’s dad was the referee. He got down on his hands and knees with us kids, and every time he saw one of us using a hand, he cried, “foul.” Then the kid had to go to the back of the line.
Every now and then, a boy might try to slip a single finger under his chin to steady an apple. When that happened, Paul Williams was right there, on his knees, to make the call. You couldn’t slip anything past that guy.
As I was standing in line, I watched the other kids. They all tried to bite into the apples, but that was impossible to do because when their teeth came in contact with an apple, it would just push it down into the water.
When it was my turn, I used a different technique. Instead of biting into the apple, I tried to get the apple stem between my teeth. Then I could bite down and lift the apple out of the water. I think my plan was sound, but my execution was faulty. The apples never seemed to float with the stem at the top where I could bite it. They all floated on their side.
After several failed attempts to bite a stem, I was getting desperate. I wanted to impress Gayle’s dad with my determination. It was obvious that the only way I could be successful was to submerge one side of my head completely under water. Then I could get the stem between my teeth.
I did that, but when I submerged the right side of my head, it created a little wave action, and it moved the apple a bit so the stem was on the other side. I couldn’t stop there, of course, so I submerged the left side of my head to go after that stem. But my efforts were in vain. There was no way I was going to bite that apple stem.
Reluctantly, I got up off my knees with my head thoroughly soaked. Gayle’s dad handed me a towel, and he started laughing. In all the years I knew him, I never, before or after, saw that guy laugh so hard.
Although my head got soaked, I think it was worth it, because I got the job the following summer. I doubt seriously that my apple bobbing skills had anything to do with my getting that summer job. But I can’t be sure of that.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at bill@davidwboyd.com