Put Disney’s ‘Mickey Mouse Waffles’ on your plate

Walt Disney World Resort’s “panelists” are trained to help guests plan their vacation visits. These seasonal workers need to have knowledge about a full range of park-related topics. Lisa asked: “Where can we find Mickey Mouse waffles in the Magic Kingdom?”

 

Panelist Lindsey N. replied lickety-split: “Waffles are always a great choice, but somehow when they are shaped like Mickey Mouse, they just taste that much better! While you are visiting Magic Kingdom Park, you can find Mickey Waffles at Sleepy Hollow,” a cottage near the Cinderella Castle.

 

Disney’s food website advises: “In order to make real Mickey Waffles at home, you need the right recipe. And that starts with Golden Malted Waffle Mix. Using Golden Malted Waffle Mix means that the same waffle that you indulge in at Disney can now be enjoyed at home.”

“The mix is made with real malt and vanilla and the highest quality wheat. So, you know it’s going to deliver the same amazing aroma and taste that lures you into the breakfast line at Disney!”

 

In some ways, Golden Malted’s business partnership with the Disney organization is pure “Fantasyland,” a dream come true. Golden Malted has other key other customers as well, including Denny’s, Perkins, Marriott, Hilton and Choice Hotels. Yet another cluster is institutional food services accounts, primarily dining halls at colleges and universities.

Editors at SAVEUR, an international food website based in New York City, said Golden Malted mix “may seem a bit pricey for waffle mix, but trust us on this one. Once you try Golden Malted, you’ll never buy another mix again.”

Golden Malted was formulated in 1937 in Buchanan, Mich., by Fred S. Carbon. In 1968, Carbon invented a better waffle maker. He gave them away to his customers, so long as they agreed to buy their waffle mix and other supplies from Golden Malted.

The installation of self-serve waffle makers in “low-frills” hotels, beginning in 2001 launched an entire new wave of public awareness for the Golden Malted brand.

For a good show, grab a seat in the hotel breakfast bar near the waffle maker. There are printed instructions – easy as A, B, C – but then again….

 

Travel writer Lisa McNamara admitted the waffle-making station has always terrified her – what if she scorches the thing and sets off the fire alarms or under-cooks her waffle and it spurts out batter on her chin?

“The siren call of the waffle is too alluring,” she said. “You can do this, Lisa.”

Step 1: These machines are all perfectly calibrated to ensure the correct amount of goop (or dough) measures out into the little cup. Trust the cup.

Step 2: The waffle machine should have been left open for you. Just pour the cup of goop into the center.

Step 3: Close the lid and flip the waffle maker quickly to ensure the dough fills both sides of the iron. Some may dribble out the sides. Don’t worry about that – this isn’t your kitchen, and you don’t need to do the dishes.

Step 4: Pray that the automatic timer and the beeper are working. Upon hearing the beep, open the contraption and admire your fine-looking waffle. Now, prayerfully extract it. Be careful not to touch hot surfaces with your hand or the plastic forks or knives. The utensils could melt on contact.

Step 5: Prepare and eat. Tiny packs of syrup and a butter-like substance should be readily available. Or go for some fruit jelly or even fresh fruit as toppings. Enjoy.

Repeat on your next visit.

When you find a good waffle mix, stick with it!

Recommended for weekend brunch on the menus of two popular restaurants in Asheville, N.C., are waffles that come “all the way from Buchanan, Michigan, and are worth the trip.”

Chef Joe Scully enjoys telling the story about the frantic telephone call that he took from one of the restaurant managers “asking why we prepare waffles from so far away, especially with how ‘locally focused’ our menus are?”

“I calmly explained why we like the Fred S. Carbon Golden Malted Waffle” mix that was invented in 1937.

Scully said he first encountered the Golden Malted product while he was a trainee in the kitchen at Houlihan’s Old Place in Hackensack, N.J., in 1977.

“Every weekend, there was a ritual – setting up the waffle irons for Saturday and Sunday brunch. Problem was they drew an inordinate amount of amps and weighed in at around 30 pounds and were, to say the least, unwieldy.”

“We would try plugging in these wrought iron behemoths at various spots, trying our best not to blow a fuse, both literally and figuratively. Once we sorted out the electrical issues, there was the mess.”

“The batter went everywhere. It was goopy, eggy and buttery, coating everything and hardening nicely. This made the “Waffle Ritual” an onerous one. Perfect for the least experienced cook; me.”

Scully said: “My first question was, ‘Why, for the love of all that is holy, are we using these archaic, messy and electrically dubious contraptions?’”

“Chef Mike Hurley, answered, ‘Try one.’ And I did. And it was truly amazing. The taste was exquisite; malt, balancing the sweetness and buttery richness of the crispy yet light crust. Topped with blueberry compote and lots of butter, it just about brought tears to my eyes.”

“Compelled, I asked how this came to be. I needed to know the back story to something so wonderful. Mike filled me in, explaining that we only paid for the waffle mix; the waffle irons came free.”

“Turns out, it is an old-fashioned idea, based on the principle that if you make it easy for someone to buy your product, they will,” Scully said.

“In 1937, Fred S. Carbon got a patent for his Malted Waffle flour,” which was mixed in a large wooden barrel. “He delivered it himself to his ever-growing clientele. In the 1960s, he developed his own waffle iron, thus creating a paradigm for rapid growth and customer loyalty.”

 

“Everywhere I have worked from Denver, Atlanta and Lincoln (Neb.) to New York City, the F. S. Carbon waffle followed me,” Scully said. “It still does, delivered by a single distributor whenever we need it. He’s pretty good at repairing the waffle irons, too. They still cause problems with the electrical, but now it is circuit breakers, not fuses….”

Joe Scully is co-owner of Asheville’s Corner Kitchen and Chestnut restaurants. (Occasionally, he lets it slip out that his father was the late Vin Scully, the famous American sportscaster who did play-by-play commentary for the Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodgers from 1950 through 2016. Vin Scully is considered by many to have been the greatest sports broadcaster of all time.)

Similarly, Fred S. Carbon is one of the greatest entrepreneurs of all time. He and his wife, Madalyn, did it quietly without much fanfare, but quite effectively. The Golden Malted brand still exists, and the company branched out from restaurants to the travel hotel industry in 2001.

Now you get the picture. Golden Malted waffle irons are the centerpiece of hotel continental breakfast bars the world over. We’ll make you one soon.

Remembering the 1966 ‘game of the century’ – a 10-10 tie

Everybody who gives a hoot about college football has a favorite team to cheer for…as well as an evil rival that’s so sweet to beat.

A homemade banner that a pair of Michigan State University students paraded along the sidelines at Spartan Stadium in East Lansing, Mich., on a cold, dank, gray Saturday deep into November of 1966, expressed the hope of the “green and white” faithful who packed the place. 

Their sign read: “Hail Mary Mother Grace! Notre Dame’s in Second Place!” 

Oh, yes. Amen. We said that “prayer” with our full hearts.

 

A chant rang down repeatedly from the Michigan State student section: “Kill Bubba Kill.” It was the war cry for the Spartans’ jumbo-sized defensive end Bubba Smith and his mates to create mayhem in the Norte Dame backfield and bring “victory to MSU.”

What was about to unfold was hyped as the “greatest game of the century.” Both teams were undefeated with the Fighting Irish (naturally) sitting atop the rankings, while MSU was right behind. The goal for the home team, as the banner indicated, was to flip the rankings.

Dan Jenkins (shown below) was there to cover the game for Sports Illustrated. Here’s some of what he wrote: The “ferocious thudding in the line…was mostly responsible for five fumbles, four interceptions, 25 other incompletions and a total of 20 rushing plays that either lost yardage or gained none,” Jenkins said.

 

Recapping the action in 1966 at Spartan Stadium, Jenkins said: “The game was marked by all of the brutality that you somehow knew it would. The featured gladiator was Michigan State’s 6-foot-7, 285-pound Bubba Smith.”

“Bubba killed, all right. He killed Notre Dame quarterback Terry Hanratty early in the first quarter,” Jenkins said. “When Hanratty…slid off right tackle on a keeper, Bubba Smith whomped him in the left shoulder and separated it. It looked as if Hanratty had been smacked by a giant swinging green door.”

 

“‘That didn’t help us any,’ Bubba said later. ‘It just let them put in (Coley) O’Brien, who’s slippery and faster and gave us more trouble.’” (Another writer described O’Brien as being “leprechaunish.” Not a good omen for the Spartans.)

Next, Notre Dame’s center George Goeddeke went out with a first-quarter ankle injury, “also courtesy of Bubba,” Jenkins said. “Nick Eddy, the best Irish ballcarrier, never even got into the game. The Grand Trunk got Eddy.”

“The Grand Trunk is not another name for Bubba Smith,” Jenkins said. “It is the railroad train that Notre Dame rode from South Bend, Ind., to East Lansing on Friday.” When the train arrived, Eddy slipped and fell on the icy slick steps, smashing an already injured shoulder. 

From the outset, both teams sputtered on offense. “It seemed the two teams would never settle down,” Jenkins said. “Of the four passes Terry Hanratty threw before he met Bubba Smith, three were atrociously off target.”

“The Irish runners went nowhere, primarily because of linebackers George Webster and Charlie ‘Mad Dog’ Thornhill, defensive tackle Jeff Richardson and Bubba. And Notre Dame failed to get off a fourth-down punt because of a poor snapback,” Jenkins said.

“Michigan State countered with a fumble, a delay penalty, a clip and a penalty for interfering on a punt catch. It looked like a big intramural game….”

 

Here is MSU Coach Duffy Daugherty with some of his prized athletes, from left: Clinton Jones, Bob Apisa, Bubba Smith, Gene Washington and George Webster.

Michigan State’s quarterback Jimmy Raye was a prized recruit of head coach Duffy Daugherty. Raye came out of E. E. Smith High School in Fayetteville, N.C.

At MSU, Raye had a weapon in the form of split end Gene Washington, “one of the surest and fastest receivers in the country.” Washington, who was the Big Ten hurdles champion, “simply outran people,” Jenkins said.

Raye dialed up Washington on a long pass play near the end of the first quarter. Now deep in Notre Dame territory, nine battering ground plays moved the ball to the 4-yard line.

Making a crucial tackle to hold Michigan State out of the end zone was Irish defensive end Alan Page. He nailed MSU’s backup fullback Reggie Cavender with a crushing blow that shattered Cavender’s left shoulder pad, according to sports journalist Jack Ebling (shown below).

 

In Ebling’s words, “Cavender hobbled to the huddle, wincing noticeably. When right guard Mitch Pruiett asked, ‘What’s wrong?’ Cavender gasped, ‘I’ve got to get out of here. My shoulder’s hurt.’ To which Pruiett responded, ‘My shoulder hurts, too. There’s no time for pain!’”

“He couldn’t have been more correct,” Ebling reported. “When Jimmy Raye got the play from the sideline, the call was for Cavender to slam off right tackle in a Split-T formation. If the Spartans were going to score a TD, it had to be then. And No. 25 (Cavender) had to be the one.”

“As the ball was snapped, Cavender stepped forward, then veered to the right. His first move sucked linebacker Jim Lynch into the pile. When Cavender turned to take the handoff from Raye, Pruitt and tackle Jerry West created a crevice. That left one defender, safety Tom O’Leary.”

“Along came Jones,” Ebling said, referring to a block from MSU halfback Clinton Jones, “and a long scoreless tie was about to end.”

 

In postgame comments to Ebling, Cavender said: “I’m just glad the play was called to the right. My left arm was useless. On a run to the left, I would’ve had to carry the ball in both arms. Going to the right, that wasn’t a problem. The toughest part was when I came to the sideline and everyone whacked my shoulder or bumped my ribs. They said if I couldn’t take a little celebration, I shouldn’t visit the end zone.”

 * * *

On Michigan State’s next possession, now in the second quarter, the Spartans scored again. Raye got away and ran for 30 yards outside right end. And he hit Washington for 17 yards to reach Notre Dame’s 26-yard line.

A couple more passes failed, however, so the Spartans had to be content with a 47-yard field goal by its barefoot Hawaiian placekicker Dick Kenney. (The temperature on the field hovered in the low 30s for the entire game.)

 

Now trailing 10-0, Notre Dame’s O’Brien rallied his team late in the second quarter. He threw a 34-yard touchdown pass to Irish halfback Bob Gladieux to cut Michigan State’s lead to 10-7, giving the Irish momentum heading into the half.

In the third quarter, Notre Dame kicker Joe Azzaro made a chip shot 28-yard field goal to knot the score at 10.

Notre Dame’s defense really put the clamps on MSU’s Clinton Jones that day, holding him to just 13 rushing yards on 10 carries, but Jones is remembered for a stunning tackle – “the loudest collision of the game,” Jenkins said.

Notre Dame’s Lynch intercepted a Raye pass and “stormed up-field, only to be met by Jones. Lynch landed on his headgear, fumbled and Jones recovered.”

Well into the fourth quarter, it looked grim for the Spartans when “Notre Dame safety Tom Schoen picked off a wild Jimmy Raye pass and skittered back with it 31 yards to the Spartan 18,” Jenkins said.

Fullback Larry Conjar ran on first down and dug out two yards. Halfback Dave Haley attempted to run wide to the left on second down, “and here’s Phil Hoag (Spartan defensive end), completely unmolested, knifing through with Bubba Smith to crack him for an eight-yard loss,” Jenkins said. “The ball isn’t on the 16 anymore; it is back on the 24.”

“Now, O’Brien fails with a frantic pass, and it is fourth down. Joe Azzaro’s field-goal try has to be from 42 yards out. It is a couple of feet off to the right, and the swoon of relief in Spartan Stadium makes the structure lean a little,” Jenkins wrote. (Other reports said the ball off Azzaro’s right foot was merely inches outside the upright.)

 

The clock showed 4:39 remaining in the game. On its final drive, Michigan State gambled and converted a fourth-and-one situation on its own 29-yard line with a quarterback sneak.

The next series of downs was unproductive. Daugherty chose to send in the punt team and hopefully pin Notre Dame deep into its own territory.

With a minute and half left in the game, Ara Parseghian’s Notre Dame team took possession of the ball near its own 30-yard line. Parseghian elected to call handoffs up the middle, instead of taking a shot at putting together a game-winning drive.

 

Notre Dame had an opportunity to win, but “it just let the air out of the ball,” Jenkins said. “Michigan State defenders…called the time-outs that the Irish should have been calling.”

“Notre Dame ran into the line, the place where the big game was hopelessly played all afternoon. No one really expected a verdict in that last desperate moment. But they wanted someone to try. When the Irish ran into the line, the Spartans considered it a minor surrender.”

“‘We couldn’t believe it,’ said George Webster. ‘When they came up for their first play we kept hollering back and forth, watch the pass, watch the pass. But they ran. We knew the next one was a pass for sure. But they ran again. We were really stunned. Then it dawned on us. They were settling for the tie.”

A 10-10 tie.

 

When questioned about his decision, Parseghian said: “We’d fought hard to come back and tie it up. After all that, I didn’t want to risk giving it to them cheap. I wasn’t going to do a jackass thing like that at this point.”

“We didn’t go for a tie,” he attempted to clarify later. “The game ended in a tie.” (Oh, please….)

Jenkins – and others – criticized the Fighting Irish coach for taking “the easy way out” by “playing not to lose” and letting time expire.

Although the Spartans gained more yards that afternoon – 284 to 219 – and had 13 first downs compared to Notre’s Dame’s 10 – the only numbers that mattered were 10-10.

Tim Layden of Sports Illustrated (shown below) remarked: “At the final gun, Spartan Stadium was plunged into a deathly silence.” One of the referees who worked the game said it was like the 80,011 fans in attendance were “stapled to their seats after witnessing a 10-10 tie.”

 

Michigan State’s season was over. The Spartans won the 1966 Big Ten Conference championship outright, but an “irritating Big Ten rule forbids a team from going to the Rose Bowl two years in a row,” Jenkins said.  

Notre Dame had one regular season game left, on the following Saturday at Southern California. (In those days the Fighting Irish chose not to participate in bowl games, which the university administration viewed as frivolous exhibition games.)

Jenkins posed the question: Who deserves to be No. 1? “Duffy Daugherty proposed a ‘co-championship,’ thinking of the Spartans’ lesser voting power in the polls.”

“Ara Parseghian, obviously, believed the Irish could outpoll Michigan State and everyone else, or he would not have been so willing to settle for a tie,” Jenkins said.

Layden agreed: “Parseghian figured Notre Dame could still sway poll voters and win the national championship. Notre Dame crushed the No. 10 USC Trojans, 51-0.”

The final Associated Press and United Press International polls gave the edge to Notre Dame, with Michigan State second.

However, the College Football Researchers Association selected Michigan State as national champion. The Helms Athletic Foundation selected MSU and Notre Dame as co-national champions.

So, technically, MSU could and did legitimately claim a “share” of the college football title in 1966.

Thus, for MSU fans, justice…sort of…was served.

Years after the game, Dan Jenkins told ESPN that he still contended that Parseghian’s decision to play for a tie and not for a win in the “game of the century” in 1966 was a despicable, gutless, contemptible action…or perhaps he used a synonym that begins with the word “chicken…”?

“Hail Mary Mother Grace!”

Carteret County, N.C., Rotarians launch 100-year celebration

The six Rotary clubs based in Carteret County, N.C., are counting down to celebrate 100 years of Rotary in 2025. The first Rotary club to form in Morehead City met on May 19, 1925.

Local Rotarians are banding together to plan a colossal anniversary celebration about year from now, but a series of centennial-related events begins with a kickoff ceremony on July 16 at Shortway Brewing in Newport, which is open to the public. A special 100-year logo will be unveiled at that time.

Coordinating all the anniversary activities is Barbara Johnson, a member of the original Rotary Club of Morehead City, who currently serves as Rotary’s Assistant Governor, Area 1, District 7730.

She is in the process of gathering mounds of historical materials and photographs that depict the full spectrum of Rotary’s community service projects that have occurred over the past 100 years. To complement the individual Rotary club archives, Johnson asks descendants of Rotarians as well as citizens to share Rotary memories and anecdotes. Contact her at barbarafjohnson@live.com.

Today, Rotary is a worldwide organization with more than 1.4 million members in more than 46,000 local clubs. It has a fascinating history that is traced back to one man. He was Paul Percy Harris, a young attorney in Chicago, Ill, in 1905.

 

Harris who was looking to bring together business and professional people for friendship and fellowship. Three men accepted Harris’ initial invitation.

Gustavus Loehr, who was a mining engineer, agreed to host the gathering in his downtown Chicago office. Also attending were Hiram E. Shorey, a merchant tailor, and Silvester Schiele, who owned a coal company. The session was productive, as the men benefited from the diverse business perspectives represented at the table.

The first four Rotarians. From left: Gustavus Loehr, Silvester Schiele, Hiram E. Shorey 

and Paul P. Harris.

They agreed to meet regularly to keep up the conversation as well as to “rotate” the responsibility for hosting their meetings, Hence, the name of “Rotary” was adopted.

The first new member to join the group was Harry L. Ruggles, owner of a printing company.

Ruggles is both acclaimed and blamed for having introduced singing at Rotary club meetings. His printing presses published the first issue of a Rotary magazine as well as the first Rotary songbook.

 

An early edition of the songbook.

Soon, Harris and the others realized that Rotary “needed a greater purpose” than just “social camaraderie” in order to be sustainable. That purpose was fulfilled through a “service component” that could unify Rotarians, allowing them to channel their energy and talents toward projects that would benefit their home communities.

The Chicago Rotary Club initiated its first public service project in 1907, the construction of public toilets in the city. Water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH) programs have remained one of Rotary’s core points of emphasis ever since.

 

Word spread quickly about the good works of the Chicago Rotary club, and business and community leaders in other cities formed Rotary clubs as well.

Between 1908 and 1910, new Rotary clubs popped up (chronologically) all across the United States – in San Francisco, Oakland, Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Tacoma, Minneapolis, Saint Paul, St. Louis, New Orleans, Kansas City, Lincoln, Portland (Ore.), Detroit and Cincinnati.

The National Association of Rotary Clubs in America was formed in 1910. That same year, a Rotary club began meeting in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, marking the beginning of Rotary as an international organization. Rotary soon expanded to Dublin (Ireland) and London, necessitating the name be changed to the International Association of Rotary Clubs in 1912.

Rotary’s early logo was a wooden wagon wheel

Every successful organization needs a logo, and the nation’s first Rotary club, which was formed in Chicago in 1905, turned to one of its members to design one.

He was Montague M. Bear, a professional engraver, who sketched a wooden wagon wheel with 13 spokes as the club emblem. Monty Bear’s intent was to illustrate “civilization and movement.”

When some club members suggested that the graphic design was a tad static and lifeless, Bear added flourishes that lifted the wheel to float on “a bed of clouds.”

Unfortunately, Bear’s clouds appeared more like “dust being kicked up on both sides of the wheel,” which defied the laws of physics. (That Chicago Rotary bunch was a tough crowd to please.)

Bear returned to his drawing board and modified the emblem once again, this time by superimposing a banner with the words “Rotary Club” over the clouds.

 

Valuing Bear’s tireless efforts, Chesley Perry (shown below), who was Rotary’s first general secretary (paid executive), recommended in 1911 that the “Rotary wheel” become the focal point of the emblem of every Rotary club.

 

Clubs were invited to submit designs to an emblem committee prior to the 1912 national convention in Duluth, Minn. According to the Rotary archives, “the Duluth convention provided some definition.” The Rotarians settled on an image of a “wheel with gears cut on the outer edge.”

“The spokes are to be so designed as to indicate strength; the object of the gears, or cogs, being two-fold: First to relieve the plainness of the design, and second, to symbolize power.”

Thus, Rotary’s wheel evolved, taking on more of a “manufacturing-oriented workforce” representation.

However, the number of spokes and cogs was left unspecified. As a result, many variations on the emblem began appearing.

To address “uniformity” in 1918, the Rotary board tasked two members with an engineering background, Charles Mackintosh and Oscar Bjorge, “to standardize the Rotary emblem.”

Their solution was “six spokes and 24 cogs, giving the emblem a sturdy appearance. In this design, the number of teeth and spokes was intended to reflect a real, working gearwheel.”

The Mackintosh-Bjorge design was formally approved at Rotary’s 1921 convention.

By 1924, the emblem was improved with the addition of a “keyway” (a suggestion attributed to Will Forker of the Los Angeles Rotary Club) “to transfer power from a shaft to turn the wheel.”

 

From that date forward, the Rotary wheel logo has remained basically intact and is viewed as the organization’s “mark of excellence,” symbolic of “hope, connection and impact.”

In 1929, Rotary adopted its formal color scheme of “Rotary Gold and Rotary Royal Blue.” Essentially, these colors can be identified using the printing industry’s Pantone Matching System as PMS 130C (a gold/orange hue) and PMS 286C (royal blue).

“The Rotary logo has special imagery for us here in Carteret County,” said Barbara Johnson.

“There are six spokes on the Rotary wheel, and we have six active clubs within the county that are meeting regularly.”

Bass Weejuns are key part of Carolina beach music discussion

Carolina beach music shag dancers of the 1950s and 1960s cherished their favorite pair of comfy leather shoes that “slid just right” across the dance floor. The brand of choice was Bass Weejuns.

These shoes were hot-hot-hot, and Morehead City, N.C., kids had to go all the way to New Bern to buy them, according to Debbie Gray of Newport, who grew up in a dance-crazy family.

She only-too-well remembers the joys of shuffling to the tunes on the wooden floors of the dance pavilions at Atlantic Beach. Debbie preferred the ones with tassels.

G.H. Bass and Co. was a family-owned shoe manufacturer in Winton, Maine, established by George Henry Bass in 1879. He owned a tannery in town and branched out into shoemaking.

 

“Quality leather was to his mind the first requisite of a good boot and shoes, and quality leathers have remained the first consideration in the business Bass established,” historians said.

Early on, Bass focused on manufacturing sturdy footwear for farmers and outdooorsmen that offered the comfort of moccasins.

The company began production in 1936 of a “Norwegian, slipper-type moccasin intended for the purpose of “loafing in the field.” Thus, “Weejun loafers” took their name. Word got around.

 

Through the ensuing decades, Weejuns became the preppy choice of American teenagers and celebrities. Weejuns were seen on the feet of icons such as James Dean, John F. Kennedy, Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn.

 

Zoe Dickens of Gentlemen’s Journal, based in London, England, recently recalled: “Weejun was the shoe du jour across Ivy League campuses.”

“Legend has it that students would tuck a 10-cent coin for the pay phone in the shoe’s front slot, and, thus, the penny loafer was born.” (Got it?)

Dickens interviewed Cyril Crentsil, European marketing manager at G.H. Bass & Co., who said Weejuns “straddle the line between casual and formalwear that allows the shoe to be worn in multiple settings by various age groups.”

Weejuns employ the same tubular moccasin technique that George Henry Bass pioneered back in 1876, Crentsil said. “This method uses a single piece of leather, hand-sewn to create a ‘hammock’ for the foot that ensures supreme and lasting comfort.”

“Another point to consider is Weejuns are just great for dancing in! Music and dance have always been a driving force in many subcultures, and our classic loafers lend themselves incredibly well to moving across a dance floor,” Crentsil said.

“Every movement from Rockabilly to Northern soul has reached for a pair of loafers for a night out.” (Northern soul grew out of the rhythm and soul scene of the late 1960s in Manchester, England – a wee bit like the Motown sound but up-tempo.)

Joseph Madda, an architect in Glencoe, Ill., is full of praise for “the greatest loafer ever made, the casual-cool ‘Weejun’ slip-on.” (Socks were and are still optional.)

 

“Because the sole and even the heel were entirely smooth leather, you had to scuff them up a bit to avoid early pratfalls,” Madda said. In his view, the classic Weejuns have an “oxblood” finish, deep brownish red, not cordovan. “The 20-year-old pair I have now is indeed oxblood.”

He keeps them shined with Kiwi brand oxblood color shoe polish.

 

“Why talk about a shoe?” Madda asked. “You know the answer. My Weejuns are a fond reminder of my optimistic youth, too long ago. That mythical time of Camelot, before Vietnam, Watergate….”

All is well. Weejuns were introduced to a new generation of music lovers in 1983, as Michael Jackson donned a pair of black Weejuns for his “Thriller” video.