By Jan Worth
Flint’s legendary “trick or treat central” in the College Cultural Neighborhood is about to get its yearly influx of kids and families. Hordes of miniature witches, Supermen, robots, and ghosts, along with their cooperating grownups, swarm the streets within a four- or five-block perimeter on Halloween, which this year falls on a Saturday with official city of Flint trick-or-treating hours from 5-7 p.m.
It’s a scene.
Maybe because it’s (historically at least) considered one of the city’s more affluent neighborhoods, for decades the neighborhood south of Court Street and bounded roughly by Woodlawn Park Boulevard and just west of Dort Highway has been a Halloween destination for hundreds of kids in search of goodies one or two pieces at a time.
The tradition has evolved into a good-hearted informal gift to Flint kids based on a spirit of fun and handfuls of chocolate going back for decades. It’s such accepted practice that newcomers to the neighborhood are likely to hear a neighbor warn, “By the way, get ready for Halloween – it’s a thing we do.”
It calls for preparation – and an investment, sometimes of $100 or more.
They know from past years that the streets will be virtually impassable except for SUVs clamoring for spots, disgorging their small charges with their bags and backpacks one house at a time.
All the residents who talked to East Village Magazine agree that even with the one-night inconvenience and cost, they embrace the madness and enjoy the tradition.
Ann Delana Anderson on Maxine Street looks all year for good buys on Halloween candy. She’ll be ready with her hundreds of pieces on Saturday night when, if it’s like last year, anywhere from 500-800 trick-or-treaters will come up her walk.
“We have fun with it. The kids and parents have always been appreciative and entertaining,” said Larry Anderson, her husband.
Next door, Russ Dotson also is ready:
He lays in a 25-pound bag of candy for $99, and usually goes through it.
“It’s a blast,” Dotson said.
“I’m a big fan,” said Connor Coyne, who has lived on Maxine with his wife and two daughters for several decades. He says his two daughters also are enthusiastic participants.
“I like it for a lot of reasons,” Coyne said. “It’s one of those times of year when grown-ups can enjoy kid things without embarrassment: dressing up, playing make believe, acting up with friends, scheming for sweet treats.”
“It’s also fun to feel like my neighborhood is the center of the action in the county. The sun is still up when trick-or-treating starts but it’s completely dark when we wrap up. It seems like a fitting send off to the warmer time of the year.”
A Tradition With Long Roots
Some residents make a night of it for adults, too, with grandparents or friends from other neighborhoods joining in to see the kids’ costumes and help pass out candy.
Coyne describes a cherished ritual: “I get out to Luigi’s before the roads are thronged with kids and bring back two of the biggest pizzas they make. My parents hand out candy while my wife and I go trick-or-treating with the kids. Sometimes their friends join us. Sometimes our friends join us, or family from out-of-state. They may or may not be wearing costumes as well. When we get back, I help hand out the last of the candy.”
No one seems to remember when exactly College Cultural became the ‘it’ place on Halloween, but it goes back at least for 32 years, when Michele Talarico and her husband moved to Maxine and have been there for it. Every year they have invited friends and/or family for dinner (usually Italian and a glass or two of wine) and her guests help hand out candy.
Her husband, who has Alzheimer’s and now lives in a facility, sadly won’t be at the door this time.
“It won’t be the same without him,” she says. Because he always loved all the kids, she will honor him by carrying on the way he would have. She’s buying lots of candy by the bag from Costco or Sams. She gives pretzels or Doritos to the little kids who usually start the night early before dark with their parents.
And she plans to be joined by a friend who has been coming for the trick-or-treating for years. She says her friend used to bring her two sons but they’re now in their 40s and live out of state.
Dominique Brown, who grew up in the neighborhood, remembers crowds of trick-or-treaters cheerfully crowding the streets back as far as 2003. She was among those kids. Now she lives on Maxine, where she bought a house to be close to her parents – and she’ll be passing out treats to a new generation of children.
“I grew up on Blanchard and I worked hard and bought the house on Maxine to live close to my parents. Steven [Barber] and I dressed up as aliens last year and decorated the house to match,” Brown said. “This year, we’re doing a carnival theme. I don’t like to make it very scary because I want to make sure the little kids aren’t haunted. We buy lots of candy to hand out and then walk the neighborhood ourselves to see the decorations. We always end the night at my parents’ house with chili or pizza and a Halloween movie… or hockey if there’s a Montreal Canadiens game. Halloween is my favorite holiday and has turned into a tradition of mine, spreading joy with neighbors.”
Costumes, Candy … and a Little Fun Chaos
Maybe the Maxine Street queen of the Halloween hullaballoo is Sue Bailey, whose elaborately decorated house at the corner of Maxine and Court gets 1,500 trick-or-treaters per year.
She says adults — friends of hers — come to help give out candy and hang out on her sheltered deck, where she offers a supply of Jello shots for adults. She says the grownups are often pleasantly surprised: “Ah, yeah, I’ll take a Jello shot,” they’ll say. She gave out about 100 jello vodka shots last year.
“I used to decorate when my kids were little and that’s gotta be 30 years,” Bailey said. “There have always been big crowds — you can’t get even get down the street. It’s been like that for years. There are kids from all ages, adults collecting for babies … if they’re out trick-or-treating, I’m going to give them a piece of candy.”
So far she has spent $300 just on candy, plus additions from every scary meme imaginable on her small corner. Several years ago she put up tents for the first time and this year there is a tunnel trick or treaters have to go through to get to the candy. She added a giant scarecrow and many tombstones this year.
Taylor Franklin on Woodside Drive says she typically gets “hundreds” of trick-or-treaters.
“I like to get several variety bags of 200+ pieces of candy,” Franklin said. “I usually start shopping in the weeks leading up to Halloween. I love the smiles, the costumes, and seeing kids I know.”
Franklin even dresses up her dog and two cats to give visitors an extra smile.
Although the bulk of traffic in College Cultural is typically concentrated on a few blocks south of Court Street, Franklin hopes that trick-or-treaters and families will venture out more, both because neighbors on other streets participate and don’t get as many visitors and spreading out over more streets would potentially improve hazardous vehicle traffic.
“I look forward to it, mostly, but I do wish for improvements,” she says. “I’d like to see more trick-or-treaters about the entire neighborhood, not just a couple streets. Big house does not necessarily mean big candy, and many neighbors (on other streets, like on the north side of Court) prepare, but miss out. I’d also like to see less vehicle traffic.”
Like others interviewed by EVM, Franklin offers candy to everybody, including the grownups.
“When adults decline candy, I tend to push it onto them anyway. They deserve treats too.”
Embracing the Madness
“I don’t turn anyone away; I’d rather err on the side of welcoming,” Coyne said. “That said, I only give each kid one or two pieces, because I don’t want to run out too quickly.”
He estimates he spends about $100 annually, enough to cover “hundreds and hundreds” of kids. But no matter how much he buys, he says, it seems like he always runs out while the sidewalks still are full of hopeful kids.
When they run out of candy, Ann Anderson and others on the street one by one shut off their lights.
When Franklin goes through her stash, “I shout, ‘I‘m out!’ Then, I shut my door and turn my porch light off.”
If there still are lots of kids in line, it can be a bit nerve-wracking. Sometimes they’ll see that the people next door bought more and have some left, so the lines rush to that door like a curving centipede.
As Coyne describes it, “When it’s gone, we lock the door, turn out the lights, and hunker down like we’re hiding from zombies in Night of the Living Dead.”
If it’s like all the others from a generous past, it will add fresh memories to another night of entertaining Halloween mayhem.
