Decades before the hilariously failed “WKRP in Cincinnati” turkey drop, Peoria saw a similar promotion explode in a frenzy of howling spectators and flying feathers.
And, presumably, nervous turkeys
The poultry pandemonium erupted the day before Thanksgiving 1905 at Szold & Sons, the landmark department store on Garden Street near Adams Street. The store had touted a “turkey grab” that became almost as chaotic as the “Turkeys Away” tumult on “WKRP in Cincinnati.”
In the 1978 episode – which gets quoted aplenty this time of year – station manager Arthur Carlson comes up with a hush-hush Thanksgiving publicity stunt: in a special turkey giveaway, birds would be dropped from a helicopter whirling high above a crowded shopping center. As the scene unfolds, clueless newscaster Les Nessmann does a live radio broadcast detailing the carnage and horror, including the line, “The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement!” After the disastrous stunt, a stunned Carlson ends the episode by telling the radio staff, “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!”
They can’t. Peoria learned that lesson 73 years earlier.
It’s unclear what Szold management thought about turkeys’ flight abilities. But they surely expected better results than greedy mayhem.
At 7 a.m., a boisterous crowd began to surround the store, all eager to get their hands on a free turkey. The Szold plan: every 15 minutes, a staffer would chase a live turkey off the store’s second-story roof. According to a post-event story in the Peoria Journal, each bird was “to go wherever it pleased,” presumably into the waiting arms of a calm spectator below.
It didn’t work out that way.
“The first turkey released disappointed the crowd,” the Journal recounted. “ … It roosted on a projection over the door of the store occupied by Ward & Co., from which it was taken by a man who climbed up and gently lifted it by its feet.”
A quarter-hour later, the second turkey was shooed from the roof, only to flutter and land on a nearby telephone wire. A boy shimmied up a phone pole to shake the wire, to encourage the bird to drop to the crowd. Meantime, the crowd – growing impatient and irritable – hurled dirt clods, stones and sticks at the turkey, to attempt to upset the peaceful roost.
The bird jumped off the wire, only to land on the lower roof of a nearby building. A man clambered up and grabbed the tail of the bird, which scooted away and flapped toward the ground.
“Then there was confusion,” the Journal reported. “An immense crowd surged to the point,and for a minute there was nothing to be seen but a crowd of people tumbling over each other, and the air filled with howls (and) screams, and the feathers of the unfortunate turkey.”
Alerted to the fracas, Peoria police raced to the scene. To put an end to the scuffles – and avoid injuries to frenzied spectators or frightened birds – officers told Szolds to refrain from launching any more turkeys.
Instead, Szold tried to toss a football into the throng, with the winner receiving a turkey. But that method triggered a fervent scrum to grab possession of the football, again sparking concerns of disorder and injuries. So, Szold simply handed out lots, and the turkeys were distributed lottery-style.
Thus ended Peoria’s first and only turkey drop, a victory for peace and turkeys alike.
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