Possible thread creep, but it's roughly on the subject:—

It comes nowhere near the Great Boston Molasses Flood, but I couldn't help but be reminded of an incident that happened in Seattle in 1947. It would have been little more than a minor news item had it not been for Ivar Haglund, a local character with a real flair for cornball promotion. "The Great Syrup Spill of 1947."

I first heard Ivar on his radio show in the early Forties (I was in my very early teens) telling stories and singing folk songs of the Pacific Northwest. He sounded like Burl Ives on a bad day and he knew about two and a half chords on the guitar, but he wasn't too bad and he knew a lot of songs. He went on to found a bunch of seafood restaurants in this area, starting with the "Acres of Clams," the name, of course, taken form the last verse of The Old Settler's Song, which was the theme song of his program. Pete Seeger once commented to me, "I taught him the song, but of course he wouldn't admit it now!" After he stopped doing his radio program, the only times he sang anywhere that anybody knew about was on singing commercials for his own restaurants. During the late Fifties and early Sixties, singers such as Bob Nelson and I were singing all over the area, but Ivar studiously distanced himself from the whole folk scene. Nevertheless, Ivar still wanted to be considered "Seattle's resident folk singer." (Sorry, Ivar). Although he was purported to be "Puget Sound's principal champion of regional folk music," he died with a head full of songs that he wouldn't share. But he had a zany sense of humor, a real taste for bad puns, and an incredible knack for getting his mug in the paper!

If so inclined, check him out. For the photo of how Ivar armed himself appropriately and confronted the "Great Syrup Spill," you'll have to scroll ten photos down. The story of the "The Great Syrup Spill" is still further down.

"How sweet it is!" —Jackie Gleason

Don Firth