The talk of the towns
Each May, Holland, Mich., resident John Karsten dresses in 17th century-style attire and walks ahead of a Dutch parade during the town’s Tulip Time Festival, in which the southwest Michigan community continues a 1930s-tradition of scrubbing the streets. “The mayor says the streets are dirty and they must be scrubbed!” Karsten proclaims, ringing the town crier’s trademark bell. Karsten is one of only 30 official town criers in the country who lend a unique character to community events.
During the 1600s, town crying was the main form of communication in the American colonies. The town crier was a living newspaper, standing on street corners and shouting the news to a population that was largely illiterate. But, most town criers vanished after 1750 when newspapers became more popular. Today, town criers remain as a form of historical preservation and entertainment.
Before immigrating to the United States from the Netherlands in 1957, Karsten had never heard of town crying. But, 20 years later, while managing a department store, a resident asked him to be Holland’s town crier, leading the annual parade, a tradition since 1940. “From there, it just sort of blossomed, so to speak, and it became my hobby,” Karsten says. “Now, I’m up to my neck in the town crier world.”
Karsten also welcomes the cruise ships to the town’s harbor. “When a cruise ship docks, before they get off, I give them a Holland cry and welcome them,” Karsten says.
Although town crying may be just a hobby, criers are official community representatives, appointed by local elected officials. “That, in the town crier world, is very important,” Karsten says. “You can’t just be a funny guy with a big mouth and a fancy suit standing on the corner. You’re not a town crier yet. You have to be an appointed official.”
In 2000, the San Luis Obispo County, Calif., supervisors proclaimed Beverly and Jerry Praver the town criers of Cambria and San Luis Obispo County, respectively. As the only husband-and-wife town crier team in the country, the Pravers participate in a variety of community events, shouting “Oyez!,” or “Listen!,” in harmony and alternating phrases of alliteration. Their first official duty was issuing a cry to dedicate new restrooms at a local park and have since participated in the opening of a new bank and the town’s hospitality night, doling out cries to encourage residents and tourists to visit local shops. “We take the littlest bit of information and make it as big and flowery as possible,” Beverly Praver says.
Two years ago, while visiting Holland, Mich., the Pravers celebrated the opening of ice cream chain Cold Stone Creamery. Ringing their bells and unfolding their scrolls, they addressed Holland residents and “all parties, persons, pedestrians and passersby within the purview of our pronouncement.” The Pravers also participate in county supervisor meetings when new leaders are installed, exclaiming their “virtues of community service.”
Annual town crier competitions are held to celebrate the hobby. “This is where it’s beneficial to the city or the county,” Praver says. “You give a cry and extol the beauties and virtues of your hometown.” Praver might boast about Cambria’s natural beauty, its seaside location and tourist spots.
Karsten bestows similar cries, telling listeners of Holland’s Dutch traditions, old-fashioned living and cultural diversity, making him a proud ambassador of the city. “So, when I’m done with my speech, [someone might say] ‘Oh, I should go there sometime,’” Karsten says.
Perhaps because so few remain, town criers are passionate about keeping a historical form of communication thriving. And, as long as the Holland streets remain dirty, Karsten will continue leading the annual parade, shouting the distinctive qualities of his beloved community. Karsten often is asked, “Are you scrubbing the streets this year?” His response: “Of course.”