The Great Halloween Candy Caper of 1955

by Karen Richman

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.

It was going to be so easy. We had it all figured out, and it was foolproof.

Except for one thing: the three fools who were about to pull this off were all nine years old. That was comprised of me, my friend, Elaine who lived across the street and went to parochial school and had to wear plaid jumpers and saddle shoes, and my friend, Jane who was very timid, never had an original idea of her own, and just sort of followed us around doing whatever we told her to do and going with the flow. So we weren’t exactly Ma Barker’s gang when it came to committing crimes, even childish ones.

But this was serious stuff. This was Halloween, and there was a whole lot of candy at stake. Not just that, but back then there was no such thing as midget-size candy bars, those ridiculous one-bite wonders that people throw in kids’ bags today. Nope, these were big regular-size bars. Big Hersheys that came in boxes of twelve, wax lips and wax teeth in indi vidual wrappers, Baby Ruths, Butterfingers, Milky Ways, 3 Musketeers, not to mention the fun stuff like Pez dispensers with cartoon heads, candy necklaces, and atomic fireballs. Some of the homes in our neighborhood didn’t buy Halloween treats, they made them! De licious, crunchy popcorn balls and caramel apples that were bright red and so sticky that when you bit into them, they stuck to the roof of your mouth. But, boy they were fun. That was Halloween candy at its finest, and we were in search of the biggest, the best, and the mother of all heists this Halloween.

We figured we needed three costumes that were very roomy and very long, so people couldn’t really tell who was under them complemented by elaborate masks that slipped over our heads with elastic. I came up with the idea that since my hair was short and kind of straight and Elaine had reddish curls and Jane had a long ponytail, we should tightly pin our hair up with bobby pins. I told my parents that I would be trick or treating with Jane and Elaine, and since long ago these friends had been deemed “safe” by my parents, and I had passed a similar test with each of theirs, we figured we had checked all the boxes. We decided to meet at Jane’s house to get dressed and ready because her father worked nights, her baby brother would be asleep, and her mother suffered from a “perpetual headache,” so she would be more interested in lying on the couch reading Photoplay than worrying about us three kids getting ready to rid the neighborhood of all their candy.

In keeping with the “rules” we had established, we all had sheets or capes of similar sizes and adequate face coverings. So I was a ghost (original, huh?), Elaine was a witch, and Jane was a fairy princess. When we were all properly covered with headgear firmly in place to cover our faces, off we went with large shopping bags (we judged pillowcases not nearly big enough for what we’d be hauling in) for the anticipated larder.

The first house produced some of those big Hershey bars, and we were even asked if we would prefer them with or without nuts. “Yes!” Elaine shouted, ever the smarty pants. Lo and behold, the homeowners gave us each both! We were off and running! When we finished the three-block area that comprised our neighborhood, we ducked behind a tree and quickly switched costumes, and off we went again. A couple of neighbors gave us the fish-eye, one even remarking, “Weren’t you here already?” but we shook our heads and gave a muffled “Uh-uh, nope.” Third time around, our shopping bags were full to bursting, and now folks were beginning to push aside their curtains, look out the window, and not always answer the door, so we headed for my house to count the booty.

We were met at the door by my father who had the keys to the Chevy Bel Air in hand. “Get in, girls,” he said sternly. “We’re going for a ride.” I put on my cutest innocent voice and said, “Where we goin’, Daddy?” The response was swift.

“We’re going to return candy to the neighbors who have run out. Then we’re going to the police station which is collecting candy to take to the orphanage in town, and you will turn in ALL your candy.”

We were too deflated to protest as he summed up his ire with, “The next time you try this, at least tell Elaine to change her parochial school jumper and saddle shoes. It was a dead giveaway everywhere you went, the neighbors told me.”

Happy Halloween, everyone. Just remember, one trip only!