The Celtic festival of Samhain celebrates a time of year when the division between Earth and the otherworld collapses, allowing spirits to pass through. Matt Cardy/Getty Images
The Irish often get credit – or blame – for the bonfires, pranksters, witches, jack-o’-lanterns and beggars who wander from house to house, threatening tricks and soliciting treats.
The first professional 19th-century folklorists were the ones who created a through line from Samhain to Halloween. Oxford University’s John Rhys and James Frazer of the University of Cambridge were keen to find the origins of their national cultures.
They observed lingering customs in rural areas of Britain and Ireland and searched medieval texts for evidence that these practices and beliefs had ancient pagan roots. They mixed stories of magic and paganism with harvest festivals and whispers of human sacrifice, and you can still find echoes of their outdated theories on websites.
But the Halloween we celebrate today has more to do with the English, a ninth-century pope and America’s obsession with consumerism.
A changing of the seasons
For two millennia, Samhain, the night of Oct. 31, has marked the turn from summer to winter on the Irish calendar. It was one of four seasonal signposts in agricultural and pastoral societies.
After Samhain, people brought the animals inside as refuge from the long, cold nights of winter. Imbolc, which is on Feb. 1, marked the beginning of the lambing season, followed by spring planting. Beltaine signaled the start of mating season for humans and beasts alike on May 1, and Lughnasadh kicked off the harvest on Aug. 1.
But whatever the ancient Irish did on Oct. 31 is lost to scholars because there’s almost no evidence of their pagan traditions except legends written by churchmen around 800 A.D., about 400 years after the Irish started turning Christian. Although they wrote about the adventures of their ancestors, churchmen could only imagine the pagan ways that had disappeared.A neopagan celebration of Samhain in October 2021. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA
An otherworld more utopian than terrifying
These stories about the pagan past told of Irish kings holding annual weeklong feasts, markets and games at Samhain. The day ended early in northwestern Europe, before 5 p.m., and winter nights were long. After sundown, people went inside to eat, drink and listen to storytellers.
The stories did not link Samhain with death and horror. But they did treat Samhain as a night of magic, when the otherworld – what, in Irish, was known as the “sí” – opened its portals to mortals. One tale, “The Adventure of Nera,” warned that if you went out on Samhain Eve, you might meet dead men or warriors from the sí, or you might unknowingly wander into the otherworld.
When Nera went out on a dare, he met a thirsty corpse in search of drink and unwittingly followed warriors through a portal into the otherworld. But instead of ghosts and terror, Nera found love. He ended up marrying a “ban sídh” – pronounced “BAN-shee” – an otherworldly woman. But here’s the medieval twist to the tale: He lived happily ever after in this otherworld with his family and farm.
Advertisement
The Irish otherworld was no hell, either. In medieval tales, it is a sunny place in perpetual spring. Everyone who lives there is beautiful, powerful, immortal and blond. They have good teeth. The rivers flow with mead and wine, and food appears on command. No sexual act is a sin. The houses sparkle with gems and precious metals. Even the horses are perfect.
Clampdown on pagan customs
The link between Oct. 31, ghosts and devils was really the pope’s fault.
In 834, Pope Gregory IV decreed Nov. 1 the day for celebrating all Christian saints. In English, the feast day became All Hallows Day. The night before – Oct. 31 – became known as All Hallows Eve.
Some modern interpretations insist that Pope Gregory created All Hallows Day to quell pagan celebrations of Samhain. But Gregory knew nothing of ancient Irish seasonal holidays. In reality, he probably did it because everyone celebrated All Saints on different days and, like other Popes, Gregory sought to consolidate and control the liturgical calendar.
In the later Middle Ages, All Hallows Eve emerged as a popular celebration of the saints. People went to church and prayed to the saints for favors and blessings. Afterward, they went home to feast. Then, on Nov. 2, they celebrated All Souls’ Day by praying for the souls of their lost loved ones, hoping that prayers would help their dead relatives out of purgatory and into heaven.
But in the 16th century, the Protestant rulers of Britain and Ireland quashed saints’ feast days, because praying to saints seemed idolatrous. Protestant ministers did their best to eliminate popular customs of the early November holidays, such as candle-lit processions and harvest bonfires.
In the minds of ministers, these customs smacked of heathenism.
A mishmash of traditions
Our Halloween of costumed beggars and leering jack-o’-lanterns descends from this mess of traditions, storytelling and antiquarianism.
Jack-o’-lanterns are neither ancient nor Irish. One of the earliest references is an 18th-century account of an eponymous Jack, who tricked the devil one too many times and was condemned to wander the world forever.
Advertisement
Supposedly, Jack, or whatever the hero was called, carved a turnip and stuck a candle in it as his lantern. But the custom of carving turnips in early November probably originated in England with celebrations of All Saints’ Day and another holiday, Guy Fawkes Day on Nov. 5, with its bonfires and fireworks, and it spread from there.Guy Fawkes Day, an annual celebration in Great Britain, features fireworks and bonfires and is observed on Nov. 5. Hulton-Deutsch Collection/Corbis via Getty Images
As for ancient bonfires, the Irish and Britons built them to celebrate Beltaine, but not Samhain – at least, not according to the medieval tales.
In 19th-century Ireland, All Hallows Eve was a time for communal suppers, games like bobbing for apples and celebrating the magic of courtship. For instance, girls tried to peel apples in one long peel; then they examined the peels to see what letters they resembled – the initials of their future husbands’ names. Boys crept out of the gathering, despite warnings, to make mischief, taking off farm gates or stealing cabbages and hurling them at the neighbors’ doors.
Halloween with an American sheen
Across the Atlantic, these customs first appeared in the mid-19th century, when the Irish, English and many other immigrant groups brought their holidays to the U.S.
In medieval Scotland, “guisers” were people who dressed in disguise and begged for “soul cakes” on All Souls Day. These guisers probably became the costumed children who threatened – and sometimes perpetrated – mischief unless given treats. Meanwhile, carved turnips became jack-o’-lanterns, since pumpkins were plentiful in North America – and easier to carve.
Like Christmas, Valentine’s Day and Easter, Halloween eventually became a feast of consumerism. Companies mass-produced costumes, paper decorations and packaged candy. People in Britain and Ireland blamed the Americans for the spread of modern Halloween and its customs. British schools even tried to quash the holiday in the 1990s because of its disorderly and demonic connotations.
The only real remnant of Samhain in Halloween is the date. Nowadays, no one expects to stumble into a romance in the sí. Only those drawn to the ancient Celtic past sense the numinous opening of the otherworld at Samhain.
But who’s to say which reality prevails when the portals swing open in the dark of Oct. 31?
Our Lifestyle section on STM Daily News is a hub of inspiration and practical information, offering a range of articles that touch on various aspects of daily life. From tips on family finances to guides for maintaining health and wellness, we strive to empower our readers with knowledge and resources to enhance their lifestyles. Whether you’re seeking outdoor activity ideas, fashion trends, or travel recommendations, our lifestyle section has got you covered. Visit us today at https://stmdailynews.com/category/lifestyle/ and embark on a journey of discovery and self-improvement.
George Plimpton’s ‘Paper Lion’ Exposed the Brutal Reality of NFL Training Camp in 1966
How writer George Plimpton went undercover as a Detroit Lions quarterback in 1963 and created the sports journalism classic ‘Paper Lion.’ Discover the bruising truths he revealed about NFL training camp and what separates fans from players.
Green Bay Packers wide receiver Romeo Doubs (87) and Detroit Lions cornerback Terrion Arnold (6) show off their athleticism on Sept. 7, 2025. AP Photo/Matt Ludtke
George Plimpton’s 1966 nonfiction classic ‘Paper Lion’ revealed the bruising truths of Detroit Lions training camp
Stephen Siff, Miami University As the Detroit Lions barrel toward a Thanksgiving Day game with the Green Bay Packers, some die-hard fans may be fantasizing about what it would be like to be on the field themselves: calling plays from the Lions huddle, accepting the snap from between a crouching center’s thighs, and spinning to hand off the football before the defensive linemen come crashing down. In 1963, Lions head coach George Wilson allowed writer and Paris Review editor George Plimpton to enact that fantasy. With a Sports Illustrated contract in hand, Plimpton convinced Lions management to allow him to enter preseason training camp at Cranbrook, the private boys school in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. His plan was to go undercover as a rookie quarterback for a magazine article that would reach dramatic culmination when he called a series of plays in a game of professional football. No one expected the amateur athlete to survive for long on a field with real-life Lions. But in writing about the experience, Plimpton turned off-field fandom and on-field bumbling into literary gold.Little, Brown reissued Paper Lion in 2016.Little, Brown His resulting 1966 book, “Paper Lion: Confessions of a Last-String Quarterback,” became a bestseller that was praised by The New York Times as “one of the greatest books written on sports, and the most thoroughly engaging book on any subject in recent memory.” A 1968 movie based on the book starred Alan Alda as Plimpton and members of the 1967 Lions team as themselves. Decades before I became a journalism professor at Miami University of Ohio, I discovered Plimpton’s sportswriting from reading the paperback versions I found on my parents’ bookshelves. Plimpton was a leading member of a mid-20th-century class of literary journalists, including Tom Wolfe, Truman Capote, Gay Talese and Norman Mailer, who were becoming known for applying novelistic techniques and sometimes personal, subjective perspectives to nonfiction. While the other literati tackled heavy topics, Plimpton’s engaging, conversational prose goofed around on the fringes of pro sports. Many of his books followed the same “participatory journalism” formula. He wrote about pitching against MLB all-stars, traveling with the PGA tour, boxing a bout against Archie Moore and playing with the Boston Bruins. Those were just the full-length books. Other television and magazine projects had Plimpton competing in tennis and bridge; performing stand-up comedy; acting in a Western; playing with the New York Philharmonic; and attempting to be an aerialist with the circus. However, he is best known for trying his hand quarterbacking for the Lions.
Posh writer meets the gridiron
In some ways, Plimpton seemed exactly the wrong person for this job. The possessor of a distinctively old money accent and patrician wealth and manners, he was founding editor of The Paris Review and in 1967 a mainstay of literary salons in Paris and New York. “Author, critic, interviewer, party-giver … friend of everybody, gifted, personable, energetic, bright, with-it, rich, a legend in his own time,” The New York Times gushed. Just the kind of person whom your average football fan might enjoy seeing knocked flat.American journalist and literary critic George Plimpton was no fan of pain, and that limited his ability on the football field.Evening Standard/Hulton Archive/Getty Images Plimpton joined a team he described as recovering from scandal. After ending the 1962 season with an 11-3 record and a Playoff Bowl victory for third place in the NFL, the NFL commissioner’s office fined six Lions for gambling on the championship game between Green Bay and New York. More significant on field, the commissioner suspended Lions great defensive tackle and future Pro Football Hall of Famer Alex Karras for one year. Without him, the Lions would end the 1963 season 5-8-1. Plimpton wrote his way onto the team by promising to “just hang around on the periphery of things and not bother anyone, just try to participate enough to get the feel of things.” Wilson agreed, and Plimpton arrived at training camp a few months later with his own football, purchased from an army-navy store in Times Square, and a “mild fiction” about having played quarterback at Harvard and for the nonexistent Newfoundland Newfs. Plimpton’s attempt at deception might raise ethical questions; however, the joke is always on him. The coaching staff seemed to have thought it would be hilarious if anyone on the team actually took the gangly 36-year-old with the nasal accent as a professional football player. It seems unlikely that anyone did. “I never had the temerity to pretend I was something that I wasn’t,” Plimpton wrote. “The team caught on quickly enough.” At camp, Plimpton hung around the dining hall and sat in the back of team meetings. A master of small talk, he lets the reader eavesdrop on conversations with Hall of Famers Karras, Dick “Night Train” Lane and Joe Schmidt. Plimpton takes us with him one night to a bar frequented by coaches, where we listen in rounds of liars’ poker with Wilson, Scooter McLean and Les Bingaman. We tag along as he chats with Karras at Lindell’s A.C., the bar the player owned in downtown Detroit at the time.
Lessons in grit
At training camp, Plimpton faced the teasing of players but earned respect by facing the brutality of sport and by persisting despite the inevitability of pain. He never played football in school, beyond a beery game between Harvard Crimson and Harvard Lampoon, and did not know the basics of playing quarterback. Several days into camp, he was allowed to participate in a play where, as quarterback, he was supposed to quickly hand off the ball to another player. “At ‘two’ the snap back came,” Plimpton wrote. “I began to turn without the proper grip on the ball, moving too nervously, and I fumbled the ball, gaping at it, mouth ajar, as it fell and bounced twice, once away from me, then back, and rocked back and forth gaily at my feet. I flung myself on it (…) and I heard the sharp strange whack of gear, the grunts, and then a quick sudden weight whooshed the air out of me.” The same thing happened when Plimpton was allowed to take the field in an annual intra-squad game played in Pontiac. Over his first three plays he lost 20 yards by falling down, getting knocked over by his own teammates and being literally picked from the ground by a zealous defender. On the bus ride home, Plimpton admitted to Wilson that he didn’t like being hit. The coach gently explained that “love of physical contact” was necessary to make it in pro football. “When kids, out in a park, chose of sides for tackle rather than touch, the guys that want to be ends and go out for the passes, or even quarterback, because they think subconsciously they can get rid of the ball before being hit, those guys don’t end up as football players,” Wilson mused. “They become great tennis players, or skiers, or high jumpers. It doesn’t mean they lack courage or competitiveness.” “But the guys who put up their hands to be tackles or guards, or fullbacks who run not for daylight but for trouble – those are the ones who will make it as football players.” This quality of great football players – an irrational enthusiasm for bruising physical contact – is celebrated by Plimpton in the veteran Lions who take him into their orbit. He becomes friends with Karras and offensive lineman John Gordy, in particular, and shoots the breeze on topics ranging from the NFL commissioner to Adolf Hitler. In a subsequent book, Plimpton goes with the pair to a madcap golf tournament and starts a ridiculous business venture, suggesting the on-field madness necessary to succeed in football bleeds into off-field life as well. But it is not Plimpton’s way to delve into the psychology of his idols. Rather, he listens as they spin tales that show how reckless the grown men who run toward trouble really are.Stephen Siff, Associate Professor of Journalism, Miami University
George Plimpton’s 1966 nonfiction classic ‘Paper Lion’ revealed the bruising truths of Detroit Lions training camp
The Sports section of STM Daily News is your ultimate destination for all things sports, catering to everyday fans and dedicated enthusiasts alike. We cover a wide range of topics, from the thrill of amateur competitions to the excitement of semi-professional and professional leagues. Our content delves into physical and mental fitness, providing insights and tips that help individuals elevate their performance, whether on the field or in their personal wellness journeys. Stay informed and inspired as we explore the dynamic world of sports, celebrating both the passion of the players and the joy of the fans.
PG&E Donates $1 Million to Local Food Banks to Help Feed Families
PG&E donates $1 million to local food banks across Northern and Central California—equivalent to about 3 million meals—supporting 38 food banks serving 47 counties.
Just in time for the holidays, Pacific Gas and Electric Company (PG&E) announced a $1 million donation to local food banks across Northern and Central California—support aimed at meeting a surge in demand as more families and seniors struggle to put food on the table. According to PG&E, the contribution is expected to provide the equivalent of roughly 3 million meals and will support 38 food banks serving 47 counties within PG&E’s service territory.
A third major food-bank contribution since September
The $1 million gift marks the third food-bank-focused contribution since September from PG&E or The PG&E Corporation Foundation (the PG&E Foundation). Combined, those efforts bring PG&E’s total community food support in 2025 to $2.37 million. PG&E emphasized that the funding for these charitable contributions comes from PG&E shareholders—not customers.
Food banks facing record-breaking demand
Food banks across California are reporting pressure levels not seen since the pandemic. Officials with the California Association of Food Banks say demand has reached record highs, driven in part by an unexpected surge during the federal government shutdown this fall. “California food banks experienced an unexpected surge with the [federal government] shutdown this fall. So, we reached out for help on their behalf and PG&E responded,” said Stacia Levenfeld, Chief Executive Officer of the California Association of Food Banks. “Their $1 million gift to food banks throughout Northern and Central California will have a meaningful impact on the lives of millions of people this holiday season and help food banks continue their critical work in our communities.” PG&E leaders framed the donation as an extension of a longstanding partnership with food bank networks. “We are grateful to help local food banks fulfill their mission during this time of increasing demand, especially as more families and seniors are struggling through the holiday season,” said Carla Peterman, Executive Vice President, Corporate Affairs, PG&E Corporation and Chair of The PG&E Corporation Foundation Board. “Our longstanding partnership with the California Association of Food Banks supports the safety net that is our local food banks.”
Where the 2025 food support has gone
PG&E outlined additional contributions made earlier in the year:
September: The PG&E Foundation awarded $1.12 million to support local food banks, tribal food banks, and senior meal programs.
November: The PG&E Foundation donated $250,000 to the California Association of Food Banks’ Emergency Response Fund.
Equity-focused grant distribution
The California Association of Food Banks notes that while California produces nearly half of the nation’s fruits and vegetables, more than one in five residents still don’t know where their next meal will come from. Food insecurity rates are even higher in many communities of color. PG&E said grant amounts awarded to local organizations will account for county poverty and unemployment levels, using a formula from the California Department of Social Services. The goal: promote equity by directing more support to counties with higher need.
About the PG&E Corporation Foundation and PG&E
The PG&E Corporation Foundation is an independent 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, separate from PG&E and sponsored by PG&E Corporation. PG&E is a combined natural gas and electric utility serving more than 16 million people across 70,000 square miles in Northern and Central California. More information is available at pge.com and pge.com/news.
Why this matters
As food banks brace for sustained demand beyond the holiday season, large-scale donations like PG&E’s can help stabilize local supply—especially when distributed with an equity lens that targets the counties facing the steepest economic pressures. For families, seniors, and individuals navigating rising costs, the impact is immediate: more meals available now, and stronger community support systems heading into the new year. Community links:
In the 1970s, Lynwood, CA, dreamed of a downtown mall anchored by Montgomery Ward. Decades later, the empty lots told a story of ambition, delay, and renewal.
In the early 1970s, Lynwood, California, dreamed big.
City leaders envisioned a new, modern downtown — a sprawling shopping and auto mall that would bring jobs, shoppers, and a sense of pride back to this small but growing city in the southeast corner of Los Angeles County. At the heart of the plan stood a gleaming new Montgomery Ward department store, which opened around 1973 and promised to anchor a larger commercial center that never fully came.
But for those of us who grew up in Lynwood during that time, the promise never quite materialized.
Instead, we remember acres of empty lots, chain-link fences, and faded “Coming Soon” signs that sat for decades — silent witnesses to a dream deferred.
The Vision That Stalled
In 1973, Lynwood’s Redevelopment Agency launched what it called Project Area A — an ambitious plan to clear and rebuild much of the city’s downtown core. Small businesses and homes were bought out, land was assembled, and the city floated bonds to support new construction.
For a brief moment, it looked as if the plan might work. Montgomery Ward opened its doors, serving as a retail beacon for the area. Yet the rest of the mall — the shops, restaurants, and auto dealerships — never came.
By the mid-1970s, much of downtown had been bulldozed, but little replaced it. And by the time Ward closed its Lynwood location in 1986, the vast lots surrounding it had become symbols of frustration and unfulfilled potential.
What Happened?
Some longtime residents whispered about corruption or backroom deals — the kind of speculation that grows when visible progress stalls.
But newspaper archives and redevelopment records tell a more complex story.
Lynwood’s plans collided with a series of hard realities:
The construction of the Century Freeway (I-105) disrupted neighborhoods and depressed land values. Environmental cleanup and ownership disputes slowed development. Economic shifts in retail — as malls in nearby Downey, South Gate, and Paramount attracted anchor stores — drained the local market. And later, political infighting among city officials made sustained redevelopment almost impossible.
Advertisement
To this day, there’s no public record of proven corruption directly tied to the 1970s mall plan. What did exist was a tangle of bureaucracy, economic change, and missed opportunity — a perfect storm that left Lynwood’s heart half-built and half-forgotten.
Growing Up Among the Vacant Lots
For those of us who were kids in Lynwood during that era, the story is more personal.
We remember the sight of the Montgomery Ward building — modern and hopeful at first, then shuttered and fading by the mid-1980s.
We remember riding bikes past the empty dirt fields that were supposed to become shopping plazas. And we remember the quiet frustration of adults who had believed the city’s promises.
Those empty blocks became our playgrounds — but they also became symbols of the gap between what Lynwood was and what it wanted to be.
A New Chapter: Plaza México and Beyond
By the late 1990s and early 2000s, the dream finally resurfaced in a new form.
Developers transformed the long-idle site into Plaza México, a vibrant commercial and cultural hub that celebrates Mexican and Latin American heritage.
It took nearly 30 years for Lynwood’s downtown to come alive again.
The result is beautiful — but it’s also bittersweet for those who remember how long the land sat empty, and how many local businesses and residents were displaced in pursuit of a dream that took a generation to fulfill.
Advertisement
Looking Back
The story of Lynwood’s lost mall isn’t just about urban planning.
It’s about hope, change, and resilience. It’s about how a community tried to reinvent itself — and how the children who grew up watching that effort still carry its memory.
Sometimes, when I drive through that stretch of Imperial Highway and Long Beach Boulevard, I still imagine what might have been: the bustling mall that never was, and the voices of a neighborhood caught between ambition and uncertainty.
📚 Further Reading
Montgomery Ward will close its Lynwood store. (Jan 3 1986) — Los Angeles Times.
Dive into “The Knowledge,” where curiosity meets clarity. This playlist, in collaboration with STMDailyNews.com, is designed for viewers who value historical accuracy and insightful learning. Our short videos, ranging from 30 seconds to a minute and a half, make complex subjects easy to grasp in no time. Covering everything from historical events to contemporary processes and entertainment, “The Knowledge” bridges the past with the present. In a world where information is abundant yet often misused, our series aims to guide you through the noise, preserving vital knowledge and truths that shape our lives today. Perfect for curious minds eager to discover the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of everything around us. Subscribe and join in as we explore the facts that matter. https://stmdailynews.com/the-knowledge/
Stephen Siff, Associate Professor of Journalism, Miami University
