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The four youngsters, dressed in Halloween costumes, wanted to be the first in line for the trek around the city park circle to the Spookfest exhibits, haunted houses and plain old candy giveaway booths.
Almost from nowhere, twins Gina and Crystal Duffy appeared. They also were anxious to be at the head of the line. It was 4 p.m. and the group would not be allowed to enter the circle until 5 p.m. They didn't seem to care.
"They got here at 3:45 p.m. last year," Debbie Mueller, Tyler's mother, said of the first four. "They were first in line last year too."
The reason for the confusion about the starting point was caused by several days of heavy rains that turned the park circle into a mushy field of soggy grass and occasional puddles of water, which prompted organizers to move the booths onto the blacktop that circles the field.
Normally trick-or-treaters would have entered the booth and exhibit line through the small children's museum that was named for park supporter LaVerne Wiest last year. That was way back at the park entrance where the road splits to circle the ball fields.
Because the event moved onto the blacktop, organizers placed the starting point at the west end of the circle where a parking area next to Mary Mueller's garden created an ideal staging area for the Chamber of Commerce/Jaycees/city of Pacific welcoming booth. This is where organizers usually hand out candy apples in an unscientific attempt to count the number of trick-or-treaters. They have never attempted to count the adults, but to be accurate they sometimes outnumber the kids.
The move onto the blacktop made so much sense to some booth operators. They say the practice should be continued next year. In prior years the booths and scary exhibits have been placed in a wide circle on the grass and ball fields.
It has rained for at least four of the nine Spookfest events and I've attended every one. I have stood under an umbrella in a downpour watching the construction of haunted houses, black light shows, half sunken ships, gingerbread houses and abandoned cornfields occupied by ghosts and goblins.
I have walked in water up to my ankles photographing miniature mafiosos waving little Tommy guns, Snow White, Cinderella, Dorothy, Toto, Tin men and scarecrows of every age and any number of ghosts and zombies. I've watch in astonishment as mothers ran after their little goblins trying to hold umbrellas over their heads right up to the entrance of a covered exhibit, then running like blazes to the exit to be there when their little waifs stepped back into the rain.
The determination of the Halloween revelers is something to behold. Retailers say it's the second most lucrative dress-up holiday, second only to Christmas, and I believe it. For this event alone, the sponsors spent $7,500 for candy. For most years an estimated 2,000 kids, most dressed in store-bought costumes, visit the event.
St. Bridget Catholic School Student Council, which occupied the first spot on the blacktop after the sponsor's booth, was erecting its traditional jack-o'-lantern exhibit. They had some dandies this year. The mother of one of the students works at the Culinary Institute, which had held a jack-o'-lantern carving contest earlier in the day and given some of the entries to St. Bridget.
I don't know who won the earlier contest, but I talked Ashley Hill, Student Council president, into posing with, what struck me as, a masterpiece.
"Why does she get to pose with it?" one of the boys helping with the exhibit wailed.
I didn't dare look away because I was trying to figure out what the face on the giant pumpkin represented. The carver had peeled away the skin, and in the soft meat of the pumpkin had carved a huge face that looked like a cross between one of the Goonies and Charles Loughton made up as the Hunchback of Notre Dame. On closer examination, though, the distinctive stitches across the forehead and the knobs on the neck gave it away. It was Dr. Frankenstein's monster.
This beast also was the star of the first Spookfest, which was put together the year most of the head-of-the-line kids were born.
But as carved pumpkins go, the monster was just one of the crowd. The Student Council lined row upon row of carved jack-o'-lanterns to titillate the trick-or-treat crowd. Each one was unique.
Looking over Ashley's left shoulder I could see the line at the starting point stretching up the hill toward the park entrance. If I hurried, I thought, around the circle, I could conclude my survey of this year's booths before the stampede started.
It was still make believe - even in the daylight hours. But the hard surface was easygoing and I was ahead of the chill that a hefty little wind was beginning to kick up. Later revelers would have more than eerie sounds to shiver about.
I may try to meet up with the first in line kids again next year.
Pauline Masson can be reached at paulinemasson@att.net or 636-257-0988.
