Originally Posted by Gearhounds
Actually live in M'burg, but we go to Inwood frequently for the kids Karate, and such, and do recognize the two locations. Feel free to elaborate- I may bump into someone that knows the same story...
Ok. First, understand that these are real events so it's not so much the ending that's funny as the story as a whole.
Also, I was about 8 years old when this happened. I remember it going on, but some of the facts I learned from overhearing adults.
OK, so this happened around 1975 or so. The firehall was the biggest building in town back then other than the Musselman plant, and there was nothing much around it then. The field behind it was empty (there was a drive-in theater there in the 50's & 60's, but it was already gone) and there were no stores around except Kern's Hardware next to the firehall. The spanish style house in the picture above (now a jewelry store?) was an actual residence, and on the corners of the main crossroads down the street there were three houses and a beer joint. In other words, Inwood was stone quiet - mostly. There weren't any cellphones or computers, etc., so when there was a fire or wreck, they had this huge speaker on the roof of the firehall that would blare like an air raid siren, and the volunteer firemen would come in as fast as they could. That siren was LOUD, and whenever it went off in the daytime me and my buddies would ride our bikes down to watch the firetrucks and ambulances roll out. We lived about 1/2 mile away I guess.
The lady who lived in the spanish house across the street didn't like the loud siren. She also didn't like the 'social club' atmosphere that went on down at the firehall. Most of the volunteer firemen were young guys. They were single, drove muscle cars, and there was a lot of "hanging out" going on in the parking lot. People would rip in and out all day, chatting & smoking, maybe some beer drinking, gunning engines, demonstrating how loudly their stereos could blast Lynyrd Skynyrd, etc.
She complained to the Sheriff Dept, wrote letters to the editor, visited neighbors to get them on her side. But nobody wanted to do anything. And to be fair, the deputies were probably all buddies with the firemen anyway. They told her there was no noise ordinance for the county, so there was nothing they could do.
So she decided to fight fire with fire. Somehow she got ahold of a speaker just as big as the one on the firehall, mounted it on her roof, and began blasting non-stop polka and yodeling records all over town. Like Octoberfest stuff and Slim Whitman. This went on for some months, and was amusing as hell to us kids. I can remember playing football with my buddies in my parents' backyard and every few plays someone would start dancing to the music for a laugh. Like I said, we were a 1/2 mile away and the music was clear as a bell.
Finally, the Sheriff's Dept. came up with some legal excuse to shut her down. Probably unlicensed public broadcasting or something, I don't know. But they made her take it down. Which, for the boys at the firehall, was a victory of course. A couple days later they were all partying in the parking lot again, and some guy showed up on his new Harley to show off. He started revving the bike, open pipes of course, and after a few minutes she came across the street screaming at them. They all told her off, threatened to call the law on her, etc. So, she went back to her house, came back with a revolver, and unloaded it into the motorcycle.
I believe she went to jail for a short time, but I don't know the details.
That's it. Like I said, not super funny to read about 40 years later. But whenever I think about how for a few months back then you could walk outside and hear the Pennsylvania Polka and it was no big deal, I do laugh.