"Cinderella," the folk tale as recorded by The Brothers Grimm

No fairy godmother, no pumpkin, no mice - for those, see the French version as recorded by Charles Perrault.

From nationalgeographic.com:

Cinderella

The wife of a rich man fell sick, and as she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, "Dear child, be good and pious, and then  the good God will always protect thee, and I will look down on thee from heaven and be near thee." Thereupon she closed her eyes and departed. Every day the maiden went out to her mother's grave and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white sheet over the grave, and when the spring sun had drawn it off again, the man had taken another wife.

The woman had brought two daughters into the house with her, who were beautiful and fair of face, but vile and black of heart. Now began a bad time for the poor step-child. "Is the stupid goose to sit in the parlor with us?" said they. "He who wants to eat bread must earn it; out with the kitchen-wench." They took her pretty clothes away from her, put an old gray bedgown on her, and gave her wooden shoes. "Just look at the proud princess, how decked out she is!" they cried, and laughed, and led her into the kitchen. There she had to do hard work from morning till night, get up before daybreak, carry water, light fires, cook and wash. Besides this, the sisters did her every imaginable injury—they mocked her and emptied her peas and lentils into the ashes, so that she was forced to sit and pick them out again. In the evening when she had worked till she was weary she had no bed to go to, but had to sleep by the fireside in the ashes. And as on that account she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella.

It happened that the father was once going to the fair, and he asked his two step-daughters what he should bring back for them. "Beautiful dresses," said one. "Pearls and jewels," said the second. "And thou, Cinderella," said he, "what wilt thou have?" "Father, break off for me the first branch which knocks against your hat on your way home." So he bought beautiful dresses, pearls and jewels for his two step-daughters, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked off his hat. Then he broke off the branch and took it with him. When he reached home he gave his step-daughters the things which they had wished for, and to Cinderella he gave the branch from the hazel-bush. Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother's grave and planted the branch on it, and wept so much that the tears fell down on it and watered it. It grew, however, and became a handsome tree. Thrice a day Cinderella went and sat beneath it, and wept and prayed, and a little white bird always came on the tree, and if Cinderella expressed a wish, the bird threw down to her what she had wished for.

It happened, however, that the King appointed a festival which was to last three days, and to which all the beautiful young girls in the country were invited, in order that his son might choose himself a bride. When the two step-sisters heard that they, too, were to appear among the number, they were delighted, called Cinderella and said, "Comb our hair for us, brush our shoes and fasten our buckles, for we are going to the festival at the King's palace." Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she, too, would have liked to go with them to the dance, and begged her step-mother to allow her to do so. "Thou go, Cinderella!" said she. "Thou art dusty and dirty, and wouldst go to the festival? Thou has no clothes and shoes, and yet wouldst dance!" As, however, Cinderella went on asking, the step-mother at last said, "I have emptied a dish of lentils into the ashes for thee; if thou hast picked them out again in two hours, thou shalt go with us." The maiden went through the back-door into the garden, and called, "You tame pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to pick "The good into the pot, The bad into the crop."

Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen window, and afterwards the turtle-doves, and at last all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the ashes. And the pigeons nodded with their heads and began pick, pick, pick, pick, and the rest began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good grains into the dish. Hardly had one hour passed before they had finished, and all flew out again. Then the girl took the dish to her step-mother, and was glad, and believed that now she would be allowed to go with them to the festival. But the step-mother said, "No, Cinderella, thou hast no clothes and thou canst not dance; thou wouldst only be laughed at." And as Cinderella wept at this, the step-mother said, "If thou canst pick two dishes of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour, thou shalt go with us." And she thought to herself, "That she most certainly cannot do." When the step-mother had emptied the two dishes of lentils amongst the ashes, the maiden went through the back-door into the garden and cried, "You tame pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds under heaven, come and help me to pick "The good into the pot, The bad into the crop."

Then two white pigeons came in by the kitchen window, and afterwards the turtle-doves, and at length all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and crowding in, and alighted amongst the ashes. And the doves nodded with their heads and began pick, pick, pick, pick, and the others began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good seeds into the dishes, and before half an hour was over they had already finished, and all flew out again. Then the maiden carried the dishes to the step-mother and was delighted, and believed that she might now go with them to the festival. But the step-mother said, "All this will not help; thou goest not with us, for thou hast no clothes and canst not dance; we should be ashamed of thee!" On this she turned her back on Cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters.

As no one was now at home, Cinderella went to her mother's grave beneath the hazel-tree, and cried, "Shiver and quiver, my little tree, Silver and gold throw down over me."

Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She put on the dress with all speed, and went to the festival. Her step-sisters and the step-mother, however, did not know her, and thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought of Cinderella, and believed that she was sitting at home in the dirt, picking lentils out of the ashes. The prince went to meet her, took her by the hand and danced with her. He would dance with no other maiden, and never left loose of her hand, and if any one else came to invite her, he said, "This is my partner."

She danced till it was evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the King's son said, "I will go with thee and bear thee company," for he wished to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. She escaped from him, however, and sprang into the pigeon-house. The King's son waited until her father came, and then he told him that the stranger maiden had leapt into the pigeon-house. The old man thought, "Can it be Cinderella?" and they had to bring him an axe and a pickaxe that he might hew the pigeon-house to pieces, but no one was inside it. And when they got home Cinderella lay in her dirty clothes among the ashes, and a dim little oil-lamp was burning on the mantle-piece, for Cinderella had jumped quickly down from the back of the pigeon-house and had run to the little hazel-tree, and there she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again, and then she had placed herself in the kitchen amongst the ashes in her gray gown.

Next day when the festival began afresh, and her parents and the step-sisters had gone once more, Cinderella went to the hazel-tree and said "Shiver and quiver, my little tree, Silver and gold throw down over me."

Then the bird threw down a much more beautiful dress than on the preceding day. And when Cinderella appeared at the festival in this dress, every one was astonished at her beauty. The King's son had waited until she came, and instantly took her by the hand and danced with no one but her. When others came and invited her, he said, "She is my partner."

When evening came she wished to leave, and the King's son followed her and wanted to see into which house she went. But she sprang away from him, and into the garden behind the house. Therein stood a beautiful tall tree on which hung the most magnificent pears. She clambered so nimbly between the branches like a squirrel, that the King's son did not know where she was gone. He waited until her father came, and said to him, "The stranger maiden has escaped from me, and I believe she has climbed up the pear-tree." The father thought, "Can it be Cinderella?" and had an axe brought and cut the tree down, but no one was on it. And when they got into the kitchen, Cinderella lay there amongst the ashes, as usual, for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, had taken the beautiful dress to the bird on the little hazel-tree, and put on her gray gown.

On the third day, when the parents and sisters had gone away, Cinderella went once more to her mother's grave and said to the little tree "Shiver and quiver, my little tree, Silver and gold throw down over me."

And now the bird threw down to her a dress which was more splendid and magnificent than any she had yet had, and the slippers were golden. And when she went to the festival in the dress, no one knew how to speak for astonishment. The King's son danced with her only, and if any one invited her to dance, he said, "She is my partner."

When evening came, Cinderella wished to leave, and the King's son was anxious to go with her, but she escaped from him so quickly that he could not follow her. The King's son, had, however, used a stratagem, and had caused the whole staircase to be smeared with pitch, and there, when she ran down, had the maiden's left slipper remained sticking. The King's son picked it up, and it was small and dainty, and all golden. Next morning, he went with it to the father, and said to him, "No one shall be my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits." Then were the two sisters glad, for they had pretty feet. The eldest went with the shoe into her room and wanted to try it on, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her big toe into it, and the shoe was too small for her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said, "Cut the toe off; when thou art Queen thou wilt have no more need to go on foot." The maiden cut the toe off, forced the foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the King's son. Then he took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. They were obliged, however, to pass the grave, and there, on the hazel-tree, sat the two pigeons and cried,

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,

There's blood within the shoe,

The shoe it is too small for her,

The true bride waits for you."

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. He turned his horse round and took the false bride home again, and said she was not the true one, and that the other sister was to put the shoe on. Then this one went into her chamber and got her toes safely into the shoe, but her heel was too large. So her mother gave her a knife and said, "Cut a bit off thy heel; when thou art Queen thou wilt have no more need to go on foot." The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the King's son. He took her on his horse as his bride, and rode away with her, but when they passed by the hazel-tree, the two pigeons sat on it and cried,

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,

There's blood within the shoe,

The shoe it is too small for her,

The true bride waits for you."

He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking. Then he turned his horse and took the false bride home again. "This also is not the right one," said he, "have you no other daughter?" "No," said the man. "There is still a little stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her, but she cannot possibly be the bride." The King's son said he was to send her up to him; but the mother answered, "Oh, no, she is much too dirty; she cannot show herself!" He absolutely insisted on it, and Cinderella had to be called. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the King's son, who gave her the golden shoe. Then she seated herself on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, which fitted like a glove. And when she rose up and the King's son looked at her face, he recognized the beautiful maiden who had danced with him and cried, "That is the true bride!"

The step-mother and the two sisters were terrified and became pale with rage; he, however, took Cinderella on his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel-tree, the two white doves cried,

"Turn and peep, turn and peep,

No blood is in the shoe,

The shoe is not too small for her,

The true bride rides with you,"

And when they had cried that, the two came flying down and placed themselves on Cinderella's shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and remained sitting there.

When the wedding with the King's son had to be celebrated, the two false sisters came and wanted to get into favor with Cinderella and share her good fortune. When the betrothed couple went to church, the elder was at the right side and the younger at the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye of each of them. Afterwards as they came back the elder was at the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived.

"Ebb and Flow, Up and Down" ~or~ "The Dumbing Down of 'Europe'"

Busch Gardens Tampa (nee Busch Gardens Africa, nee Busch Gardens: The Dark Continent) hasn’t had the easiest time blossoming into her adulthood. In her infancy, she was no more than a series of botanical gardens adjacent to a brewery, but she aspired to be more. In her first decade alone, a full-service restaurant, an exotic safari and a suspended monorail were added on the opposite side of the brewery from the gardens. As she entered adolescence, a railway was added for additional viewing of the many exotic animals and lush plants. Throughout her teens, her additions cemented her destiny: a flume in ’73, the Moroccan village in ’75, and in ’77 the Python rollercoaster… as well as the moniker “The Dark Continent.” At nearly two decades old, the new task at hand was to unify a property that, through fits and starts, had gone from a Brewery and its “dressing” to being a full-scale player in the game of Amusement – an industry that seemingly everyone had a hand in at the time, from Warner Brothers to Marriott. She’s had her growing pains, her challenges and her competition – and she’s flourished.

An early view of the Tampa brewery and gardens.

Like a tale from Greek or Roman mythology, Busch Gardens Williamsburg was seemingly born into adulthood. Cool, confident and brimming with possibilities, she was carefully planned from the beginning: She was to be located on a lush, gorgeous piece of land replete with hills, valleys and springs; her mission, to have beautiful “villages” reminiscent of old-world Europe, with rides, attractions and shows integrated throughout. Where her Tampa sister’s niche was being “a park-with-animals,” (including 2 animal-show venues: the “Bird Circus Theater” where “Pets Ahoy” now stands, and the “Tanzania Theater,” now known as “Stanleyville Theater”), the Williamsburg park’s specialty was to be truly theatrical in nature. Throughout her initial six areas (Banbury Cross, Heatherdowns, Hastings, Aquitaine, New France and Rhinefeld), she was to have five designated performance spaces (The Globe Theatre, The Magic Lantern Theatre, the Three Musketeers Theatre, The Canadian Palladium and the Rhinefeld gazebo), as well as numerous roaming costumed actors and performers. The next few years saw the additions of Oktoberfest, San Marco and DaVinci’s Garden, bringing with them two more show venues: Das Festhaus, an authentically recreated Munich-style beer hall, and Teatro Di San Marco, an outdoor stage surrounded by tables for al fresco dining. Time marched on, and her teens brought even more areas: Threadneedle Faire and Festa Italia. Her confidence grew and she, too, flourished.

Left and Center, photos of the real Oktoberfest in Munich. Right, Das Festhaus.

As with people who grow up facing adversity and challenges, Tampa learned her strengths, embraced her uniqueness and carefully observed the successes of her sibling. Without wavering, every addition has reinforced her African theme and she continues to exceed expected attendance and revenue. Her shows, however, may not all be African-themed, but they don’t need to be. They are shows of quality, and they target different age groups without ever being inappropriate. Today she offers one children’s show (A is for Africa), two family shows (Iceploration & Critter Castaways) and two shows directed pointedly at adults (the fiery Let’s Dance & the soulful Men of Note). Something for everyone.

And then there’s Williamsburg…

Like a person raised without challenges, without having to ever “find” her way, Williamsburg eventually gave in to insecurity, questioning her direction and second-guessing her mission. “I must make things simpler. At the risk of losing all that makes me unique, I must become more accessible," she thought. "To win the guests of King’s Dominion, I must become more like them and appeal to the lowest common denominator.” An ill-conceived combination of conformity and pandering became her solution: away went the names of Hamlets on her park maps and literature, only to be replaced with the names of the countries they represented, and park landmarks followed suit. Her trains were no longer spoken of by name: station conductors now referred to Der Hochbeinege simply as the “red train,” the Balmoral Castle as “blue” and the Alpen Express, “green.” Castle O’Sullivan, a ride-enclosure-turned-show venue, is now home to ill-placed character dining. The Three Musketeers Theatre, upgraded and renamed The Royal Palace, now sits dark (outside of special events). The Canadian Palladium is now a ride pad. The stage in Land of the Dragons (a 'subdivision' of Germany) also sits dark.  The rich Bavarian hues of Oktoberfest have given way to the candy colors of any Cedar Fair park. 

And then, most recently came this:

WILLIAMSBURG, VA (March 8, 2012) – Busch Gardens delves deep into Bavarian folk lore in a new musical stage production debuting at Das Festhaus on March 24. Entwined: Tales of Good & Grimm transforms the park's 2,000-seat restaurant into a forest wonderland where fairy tales come to life...

Entwined replaces the park's long-running This is Oktoberfest show, which ended its 35-year run at the end of Busch Gardens regular 2011 season. [Vice President of Entertainment Scott] Gasparich said Entwined is Busch Gardens' response to guests asking for fresh programming.

Gone.

The show that encapsulated the very spirit of Busch Gardens Williamsburg is now gone.


Gone as well is the authentic Oktoberfest stage that never failed to elicit goose bumps on my arms when it lifted the live oom-pah band high above the crowd, that same stage that consistently drew audible gasps from those seeing it raise for the first time.  For three and a half decades, the entertainment department understood that both the show and the stage were sacred, they were symbolic. As Shamu is synonymous with SeaWorld, This is Oktoberfest was synonymous with Busch Gardens Williamsburg.

Mind you, the show "as it was traditionally performed” actually ended one year earlier. For the 2011 season, all references to the history of Munich’s Oktoberfest, as well as the popularity of polka music in America, were removed only to be replaced with cheesy dialogue, mugging and sexual innuendo. It was the public’s displeasure with this version that led to cries for change: the people wanted it changed back, but Gasparich took advantage of this outcry and used it as justification for removing a show that he obviously grew bored with shortly after his arrival.


This also marks the removal of one more show aimed at adults.


Now, just to avoid any confusion, I don't mean "adult-oriented" (like Howl-O-Scream 2011's "Fiends of the Festhaus" which some unsuspecting parents stumbled upon and found a bit too adult), what I do mean is "aimed at adults, but still friendly for any age."

"Adult-focused" (This is Oktoberfest, left, and Starlight Orchestra, center)
versus "Adult-oriented" (Fiends in the Festhaus, right)

Some perspective: in 2005, team Williamsburg offered two straight-up children's shows (The Fairy Lore Players and A Trio of Three in Land of the Dragons), three shows for the whole family (Secrets of Castle O'Sullivan, Pet Shananigans, and the cirque-style Imaginique), and five different shows that were aimed directly at the grown-ups: Irish Thunder, American Jukebox, This is Oktoberfest, Holiday in Roma and The Starlight Orchestra.

The "Land of the Dragons" stage: the ideal home for a fantasy/fairy-tale show.
Photos courtesy of RyanActor.com

Now let's take a quick look at the park's online show schedule for 2012. We have five live sit-down shows. Total. Only one show for the adults (Celtic Fyre) , three shows for the whole family (the fever-dream fairy-tale Entwined, the slapstick Mix it Up, and the perennial Pet Shenanigans), and one for just kids (Sunny Days Celebration).

Busch Gardens Williamsburg is offering five live sit-down shows for the 2012;
'The Secret Life of Predators' is viewed on-foot in the sun, 'Pirates 4-D' is a film 

I have no children, nor do I see myself ever having children; I do enjoy spending time with my nieces, but I also enjoy the freedom to travel as part of an adult couple. As such, we have the luxury of being able to buy the higher-ticket souvenirs (German steins, Irish sweaters, Tyrolean hats, Venetian masks, etc.) without fear of them being marred by little hands. Of the two of us, my other half is the coaster-enthusiast-park-aficionado, whereas I simply love the park for the immersive experience - the architecture, the landscaping, the food and the shows. I 'm a Leo, but I'm able to recognize that the world isn't all about me... However, I find it hard to believe that I'm the only person with a disposable income that's starting to feel unwanted by the park.  For us, its a six-hour trek: we usually drive down, check in at the hotel, head to the park, grab a show-schedule/map and plan our next few days around the shows and meals, leaving the rides as filler. Although the relatively recent addition of Illuminights (a peak-season assortment of evening entertainment) is admirable, one well-produced nightly sit-down show in the Royal Palace Theatre (a-la Imaginique or Kinetix) would be much more pleasurable than a handful of hit-or-miss street performances throughout the park, especially at the end of a long day. Quality and consideration trump quantity.

Some colorful former residents of the now-dark Royal Palace Theatre:
The cirque-style Imaginique (left 2) and the high-energy Kinetix (right 2)

This too, in theory, shall pass. Everything is cyclical. The ebb and the flow, the rise and the fall. As much as the Tampa park has slowly wound me around her little finger through increased variety and an unwavering pride in her history, I'm equally saddened by Williamsburg's descent into mediocrity, denying her roots and pushing away her most loyal suitors.


Here's hoping Williamsburg soon remembers her calling; it's high time she started acting her age.

"Good times and bum times, I've seen 'em all and, my dear...

...I'm still here."


My deepest, most sincere apologies. The blog, like a princess from some Neuschwanstein-like castle, lies asleep.


Sadly, it's nothing poetic like a spindle or an apple.  Just life in general.


Hang in there. The journey will be magical.


Peace, love & gingerbread,


~me

Hamburg Arrests Spur Legal Claim

From The New Jersey Herald:
 

Hamburg Arrests Spur Legal Claim by Jeff Sistrunk
jsistrunk@njherald.com

HAMBURG -- The former owners of the Gingerbread Castle, who were arrested earlier this month following an incident at the Hamburg Borough Municipal Court, are pursuing a claim against the Hamburg Police Department alleging the arresting officers used excessive force and caused them serious injuries.

Sparta-based attorney Jeffrey Patti said he mailed the tort claim to Hamburg Borough on Tuesday, seeking more than $1 million on the behalf of Francis J. Hinger Jr., 49, and Lorraine Hinger, 40, who were arrested by Hamburg police inside the municipal courthouse Aug. 2. Both were charged with defiant trespassing and obstruction of government function, and Francis Hinger was additionally charged with resisting arrest. The pair was released from custody pending a future court date. 

The Hingers owned Hamburg's iconic Gingerbread Castle, a sprawling fairytale-themed amusement park, until 2007, when it was sold for $680,000 at a sheriff's auction to local developers Gene Mulvihill and Pat Barton.  

The tort claim said the officers who arrested the Hingers, Sgt. Erik Aronson and Sgt. David McNulty, caused "extreme pain, humiliation and emotional trauma" to the couple, including Lorraine Hinger re-injuring an existing back injury. Both Hingers sustained "severe and permanent injuries" because of the officers' conduct, according to the claim. 

"The arresting officers' actions were completely out of line and excessive," Patti said.

Attempts to reach Aronson and Hamburg Police Chief Jan Wright Tuesday were unsuccessful.
According to police, the Hingers were at the borough's municipal court for a hearing before Judge John E. Mulhern on the night of Aug. 2 and became "upset" by the disposition of a case. From there, the accounts of the incident vary wildly between the police report and the tort claim. 

Police said the Hingers tried to "antagonize" the two opposing litigants in the case outside the courtroom, while the claim said the couple was mocked and harassed by the other litigants and that Francis Hinger attempted to defend his wife. The police account went on to say that officers intervened to prevent escalation of the incident and that Francis Hinger refused to leave the building. As Francis Hinger was being arrested, police said, Lorraine Hinger began to "verbally and physically interfere" with her husband's arrest and also refused to leave the building.  

Meanwhile, the tort claim said Aronson approached Francis Hinger and shouted at him to leave the courthouse as Hinger tried to protect his wife from the other litigants. Aronson then handcuffed and arrested Hinger, according to the claim. While Aronson was doing so, the claim said, he told McNulty to arrest Lorraine Hinger "without any probable cause of any misconduct." 

According to the claim, McNulty ignored Lorraine Hinger's advisories that she had hardware in her neck to stabilize spinal injuries and used "excessive force" in handcuffing her and removing her from the building. Although Lorraine Hinger was in "obvious and excruciating pain," the claim said, she was kept in handcuffs behind her back "for several hours." 

Aronson, McNulty and Wright are named as injuring parties in the tort claim, along with "department supervisors and/or shift commanders" and "others to be named as ongoing discovery warrants." 

Individual claims in the document include unlawful arrest, false imprisonment, excessive use of force, malicious prosecution, filing a false police report and assault and battery.    

  

Another storybook park is lost to history...

"Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?"
"I've been to London to visit the queen."
"Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?"
"I frightened a little mouse under her chair."

Storybook Gardens of Wisconsin Dells, WI will not be reopening after what many thought was its annual winter hiatus. This morning, I read this article on the Wisconsin State Journal's website.

It's sad.

The Imaginary World, a site with a wonderful collection of storybook park ephemera (as well as other fun stuff), has an assortment of photos from the park's glory days. Unlike the realistic figures in The Gingerbread Castle and throughout Fairy Tale Forest, the characters of Storybook Gardens were stylized, cartoonish and whimsical, reminiscent of George Pal's "Puppetoons."

If you have a moment today, read a fairy tale.  If you don't have that moment, rattle off a quick nursery rhyme. If you know a child, read a fairy tale to them when you see them - every time you see them.  Teach them nursery rhymes, too.

But, in the words of Stephen Sondheim, "Careful the tale you tell, that is the spell - children will listen..."

A postcard from the castle's 1987 renaissance...

...and a few variations of the rhyme behind the postcard. According to wikipedia, there are a few variations of the popular nursery song.  Among them:

Rub-a-dub-dub,

Three men in a tub,

And how do you think they got there?
The butcher, the baker,
The candlestick-maker,
They all jumped out of a rotten potato,
'Twas enough to make a man stare.

 I must admit, I have never heard this rendition before, but I like it!  Here's another:

Hey! rub-a-dub, ho! rub-a-dub, three maids in a tub,

And who do you think were there?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker,
And all of them gone to the fair.

Again, it's new to me, but fun. And it's bawdy: three respectable townsfolk "watching a dubious sideshow at a local fair." It's a ryhme about an early burlesque show, as it were. 

Lastly, the version I grew up with:

Rub a dub dub,

Three men in a tub,
And who do you think they be?
The butcher, the baker,
The candlestick maker.
Turn them out, knaves all three.

And, as promised, the postcard:

 Happy Monday!

Fun Friday! A postcard from the 1950s...

On the reverse: "Two young visitors stop to visit with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in one of the towers of the Gingerbread Castle."

I'm taking the weekend off... wishing you a weekend of wonder -- enjoy!

"Children besiege the Gingerbread Castle at Hamburg" - NEW JERSEY NOW! 1930

An owl's eye view of the castle...

...a gallery of photos taken 25 March 2007, courtesy of our friend Flyin' Phil.  He has eight pictures in the gallery... let's hope for another photo-filled fly-over soon!

Thanks, Phil!

My visit to the castle in 1976...

Atop a giant mushroom...

Inside a giant storybook...

And on the train...

"Hänsel and Grethel," the folk tale as recorded by The Brothers Grimm

My favourite fairy tale...

From nationalgeographic.com:

Hänsel and Grethel

Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his two children. The boy was called Hänsel and the girl Grethel. He had little to bite and to break, and once when great scarcity fell on the land, he could no longer procure daily bread. Now when he thought over this by night in his bed, and tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, when we no longer have anything even for ourselves?" "I'll tell you what, husband," answered the woman. "Early to-morrow morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is the thickest, there we will light a fire for them, and give each of them one more piece of bread more, and then we will go to our work and leave them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be rid of them." "No, wife," said the man, "I will not do that; how can I bear to leave my children alone in the forest?—the wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces." "O, thou fool!" said she. "Then we must all four die of hunger, thou mayest as well plane the planks for our coffins," and she left him no peace until he consented. "But I feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same," said the man.

The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept bitter tears, and said to Hänsel, "Now all is over with us." "Be quiet, Grethel," said Hänsel, "do not distress thyself. I will soon find a way to help us." And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles which lay in front of the house glittered like real silver pennies. Hänsel stooped and put as many of them in the little pocket of his coat as he could possibly get in. Then he went back and said to Grethel, "Be comforted, dear little sister, and sleep in peace, God will not forsake us," and he lay down again in his bed. When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the woman came and awoke the two children, saying "Get up, you sluggards! we are going into the forest to fetch wood." She gave each a little piece of bread, and said, "There is something for your dinner, but do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else." Grethel took the bread under her apron, as Hänsel had the stones in his pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When they had walked a short time, Hänsel stood still and peeped back at the house, and did so again and again. His father said, "Hänsel, what art thou looking at there and staying behind for? Mind what thou art about, and do not forget how to use thy legs." "Ah, father," said Hänsel, "I am looking at my little white cat, which is sitting up on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me." The wife said, "Fool, that is not your little cat, that is the morning sun which is shining on the chimneys." Hänsel, however, had not been looking back at the cat, but had been constantly throwing one of the white pebble-stones out of his pocket on the road.

When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not be cold." Hänsel and Grethel gathered brushwood together, as high as a little hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very high, the woman said, "Now, children, lay yourselves down by the fire and rest, we will go into the forest and cut some wood. When we have done, we will come back and fetch you away."

Hänsel and Grethel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a little piece of bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe they believed that their father was near. It was, however, not the axe, but a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which the wind was blowing backwards and forwards. And as they had been sitting such a long time, their eyes shut with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke, it was already dark night. Grethel began to cry and said, "How are we to get out of the forest now?" But Hänsel comforted her and said, "Just wait a little, until the moon has risen, and then we will soon find the way." And when the full moon had risen, Hänsel took his little sister by the hand, and followed the pebbles which shone like newly-coined silver pieces, and showed them the way.

They walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more to their father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it and saw that it was Hänsel and Grethel, she said, "You naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest?—We thought you were never coming back at all!" The father, however, rejoiced, for it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind alone.

Not long afterwards, there was once more great scarcity in all parts, and the children heard their mother saying at night to their father, "Everything is eaten again; we have one-half loaf left, and after that there is an end. The children must go; we will take them farther into the wood, so that they will not find their way out again; there is no other means of saving ourselves!" The man's heart was heavy, and he thought, "It would be better for thee to share the last mouthful with thy children." The woman, however, would listen to nothing that he had to say, but scolded and reproached him. He who says A must say B, likewise, and as he had yielded the first time, he had to do so a second time also.

The children were, however, still awake and had heard the conversation. When the old folks were asleep, Hänsel again got up, and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles, but the woman had locked the door, and Hänsel could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his little sister, and said, "Do not cry, Grethel; go to sleep quietly; the good God will help us."

Early in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of their beds. Their bit of bread was given to them, but it was still smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Hänsel crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel on the ground. "Hänsel, why dost thou stop and look around?" said the father; "go on." "I am looking back at my little pigeon which is sitting on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me," answered Hänsel. "Simpleton!" said the woman, "that is not thy little pigeon; that is the morning sun that is shining on the chimney." Hänsel, however, little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path.

The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and the mother said, "Just sit there, you children, and when you are tired you may sleep a little; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening when we are done, we will come and fetch you away." When it was noon, Grethel shared her piece of bread with Hänsel, who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep and evening came and went, but no one came to the poor children. They did not awake until it was dark night, and Hänsel comforted his little sister and said, "Just wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about; they will show us our way home again." When the moon came they set out, but they found no crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods and fields had picked them all up. Hänsel said to Grethel, "We shall soon find the way," but they did not find it. They walked the whole night and all the next day, too, from morning till evening, but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but two or three berries, which grew on the ground. And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no longer, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep.

It was now three mornings since they had left their father's house. They began to walk again, but they always got deeper into the forest, and if help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still and listened to it. And when it had finished its song, it spread its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted; and when they came quite up to the little house they saw that it was built of bread and covered with cakes, but that the windows were of clear sugar. "We will set to work on that," said Hänsel, "and have a good meal. I will eat a bit of the roof, and thou, Grethel, can eat some of the window; it will taste sweet." Hänsel reached up above, and broke off a little of the roof to try how it tasted, and Grethel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice cried from the room,

"Nibble, nibble, gnaw,
Who is nibbling at my little house? "

The children answered,

"The wind, the wind,
The heaven-born wind,"

and went on eating without disturbing themselves. Hänsel, who thought the roof tasted very nice, tore down a great piece of it, and Grethel pushed out the whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Suddenly the door opened, and a very, very old woman, who supported herself on crutches, came creeping out. Hänsel and Grethel were so terribly frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head, and said, "Oh, you dear children, who has brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No harm shall happen to you." She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little house. Then good food was set before them: milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterwards two pretty little beds were covered with clean white linen, and Hänsel and Grethel lay down in them, and thought they were in heaven.

The old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality a wicked witch, who lay in wait for children, and had only built the little bread house in order to entice them there. When a child fell into her power, she killed it, cooked and ate it, and that was a feast day with her. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but they have a keen scent like the beasts, and are aware when human beings draw near. When Hänsel and Grethel came into her neighborhood, she laughed maliciously, and said mockingly, "I have them; they shall not escape me again!" Early in the morning before the children were awake, she was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so pretty, with their plump and rosy cheeks, she muttered to herself, "That will be a dainty mouthful!" Then she seized Hänsel with her shriveled hand, carried him into a little stable, and shut him in with a grated door. He might scream as he liked; that was of no use. Then she went to Grethel, shook her till she awoke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing; fetch some water, and cook something good for thy brother; he is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I will eat him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain; she was forced to do what the wicked witch ordered her.

And now the best food was cooked for poor Hänsel, but Grethel got nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little stable, and cried, "Hänsel, stretch out thy finger that I may feel if thou wilt soon be fat." Hänsel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and thought it was Hänsel's finger, and was astonished that there was no way of fattening him. When four weeks had gone by, and Hänsel still continued thin, she was seized with impatience and would not wait any longer.

"Here, Grethel," she cried to the girl, "be active, and bring some water. Let Hänsel be fat or lean, to-morrow I will kill him, and cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament when she had to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow over her cheeks. "Dear God, do help us," she cried. "If the wild beasts in the forest had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died together." "Just keep thy noise to thyself," said the old woman; "all that won't help thee at all."

Early in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the cauldron with the water, and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old woman; "I have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She pushed poor Grethel out to the oven, from which flames of fire were already darting. "Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it properly heated, so that we can shut the bread in." And once Grethel was inside, she intended to shut the oven and let her bake in it, and then she would eat her, too. But Grethel saw what she had in mind, and said, "I do not know how I am to do it; how do I get in?" "Silly goose," said the old woman. "The door is big enough; just look, I can get in myself!" and she crept up and thrust her head into the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! Then she began to howl quite horribly, but Grethel ran away, and the godless witch was miserably burnt to death.

Grethel, however, ran as quick as lightning to Hänsel, opened his little stable, and cried, "Hänsel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!" Then Hänsel sprang out like a bird from its cage when the door is opened for it. How they did rejoice and embrace each other, and dance about and kiss each other! And as they had no longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch's house, and in every corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels. "These are far better than pebbles!" said Hänsel, and thrust into his pockets whatever could be got in, and Grethel said, "I, too, will take something home with me," and filled her pinafore full. "But now we will go away," said Hänsel, "that we may get out of the witch's forest."

When they had walked for two hours, they came to a great piece of water. "We cannot get over," said Hänsel; "I see no foot-plank, and no bridge." "And no boat crosses either," answered Grethel, "but a white duck is swimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over." Then she cried,

"Little duck, little duck, dost thou see,
Hänsel and Grethel are waiting for thee?
There's never a plank, or bridge in sight,
Take us across on thy back so white."

The duck came to them, and Hänsel seated himself on its back, and told his sister to sit by him. "No, " replied Grethel, "that will be too heavy for the little duck; she shall take us across one after the other." The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely across and had walked for a short time, the forest seemed to be more and more familiar to them, and at length they saw from afar their father's house. Then they began to run, rushed into the parlor, and threw themselves into their father's arms. The man had not known one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the woman, however, was dead. Grethel emptied her pinafore until pearls and precious stones ran about the room, and Hänsel threw one handful after another out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was at an end, and they lived together in perfect happiness.

My tale is done; there runs a mouse; whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.

"Art: Gingerbread House" - TIME Magazine, 1930

From Time.com:

Art: Gingerbread House
Monday, Jul. 14, 1930

Dean George Harold Edgell of the Harvard Faculty of Architecture used to say that one good result of the persistence of U. S. architects in imitating traditional styles was that an art student could find an excellent example of every style of architecture known to man within 50 miles of New York. Until last week, however, the questing art student could not have found a proper Hans Andersen Gingerbread House. This omission has been rectified through a union of the talents of Joseph Urban, globular Viennese Architect and stage setter, and the enthusiasm of Fred H. Bennett, whole-wheat flour man ("Wheatsworth" crackers).

Just 50 miles from New York in Hamburg, N. J., the gates of the Wheatsworth factory grounds were thrown open and hundreds of wide-eyed children clambered excitedly through one of the strangest houses ever built. It is a poured-stone structure on the foundations of an old cement kiln. Its sparkling roof, white as sugar icing, is decorated by a frieze of pink and blue imitation candy hearts. Huge cookies (of cork) are set in the giddily striped and curlicued walls. A six-foot painted knight in gaudy armor on a painted horse spins from a turret as a weather vane. A gigantic black cat arches his cast stone back on the top of a sugar-stick minaret. A trained seal on a barber's pole is balancing a whirling ball on the tip of his nose. Up the balustrade of the exterior staircase stalks a procession of pink elephants, rhinoceroses. The interior is even stranger, with carved witches and fairies, gnomes and children, a giant metal plum pudding, glass-eyed electric spiders that slither up and down on copper webs. To curdle young blood one room has a reproduction of the cauldron in which Jack's giant made pot-av-feu of his victims before Jack slew him. The walls are studded with bones.

Pleased as any child with the Gingerbread House was Miller Bennett last week. He has long been certain that if people would only come to see his mill and his factory, his sales problems would solve themselves.

"I went to see the opera Hansel & Gretel when this problem was still unsettled in my mind." he snapped excitedly last week. "My eye was taken by the quaint fantastic fairyland gingerbread house on the stage. The thought struck me, 'just the thing!' Something like that for the children on the old cement kiln across the courtyard from the mill. I went to see the decorator Joseph Urban who designs the stage settings for the Metropolitan Opera, and he's been hard at work on this Gingerbread House of mine for two years. It cost $50,000, but if it brings the children and their mothers, it's well worth it."

I find this article especially interesting for a few reasons:

I'd like to know more about the cork "cookies" that were on the castle's exterior

I never knew the spiders were (at one time) animated!

It verifies what one very early postcard shows: the knight on horseback was once on the roof as a weathervane!

Originally, it seems, the bones were said to have been the remains of the Englishmen stewed by Jack's giant. In later years, tour guides pointed them out as either:

     a) the witch's victims
     b) the witch herself, after being pushed in by Gretel.

I hope to post more articles as time goes on... Somewhere, I have a manila folder that's absolutely PACKED with articles from the Sussex County Library's archives.  In the mean time, I'll share other good stuff... feel free to share you're treasures and memories, too!

"Oh, magic castle..."

...such is the most common translation of "O herrlich schlößchen," Hänsel and Gretel's initial reaction to the infamous cookie-studded centerpiece of Humperdinck's 1893 opera.  To anyone who visited New Jersey's Gingerbread Castle in Hamburg, "Oh magic castle" may very well sum up their response, too.  A place of magic and wonder, the castle played host to thousands of visitors and, dare I say, touched the heart of each and every person who passed through its confection-covered halls.  I look forward to readers sharing their memories and photos... so, that's my first blog post...welcome!