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Lisbon Shows off its Moxie Days by Robert George -- The Times Record Lisbon -- People came in greater numbers than ever before for the parade, the balloons, the street vendors selling unbrella, hats and squirt guns, for the dancing and the ferris wheel, but few among the 25,000 at this weekend's Moxie Festival knew how Lisbon's big bash got it's name. "I have no idea," said Michael Nutter, who came from Topsham on Saturday to see his nephews ride in the McDonald's float. "Probably, it's because of the Moxie drink, isn't it?" asked Barbara Richard, a Sabattus woman. "This is the home of Moxie isn't it?" Maurice Vigue asked after he finished setting up his racks of dresses and skirts for sale. "That's what someone told me. Is it true?" "Wasn't it because Moxie was invented around here, or something like that?" asked Peg Pellerin, who wore a bright orange T-shirt touting the bitter-tasting beverage as the official drink of the Kligons, an extremely macho alien-race appearing in Star Trek television shows and movies. ("Not for the weak," her T-shirt said.) In fact, the 14th annual Moxie Festival has its roots in the shared passion of two men, both named Frank and both at Saturday's parade. Frank Ancietti, who drinks a half-gallon of Moxie a day and has invented a secret-recipe Moxie ice-cream, puffed out his chest as a dozen Klingons stopped the parade in front of his corner store to pay homage to him with a gutteral salute. "Moxie!" they shouted at the end. "We got some ready for ya!" Ancietti shouted back. Meanwhile in back of the Kennebec Fruit Co., Frank Potter signed autographs and posed with fans wanting a picture of themselves standing next to him. "Look at that old white-haired guy on the end," Potter, 95, shouted as a row of veterans marched by. "Must be hell to be old." Fourteen years ago, Potter wrote a little book of soda pop nostalgia called "The Moxie Mystique," and Ancietti invited him to town for a book signing. Hundreds of Moxie enthusiasts came from all over the Northeast in cars with "Moxie" vanity plates from their various states. They popped open their trunks, exchanged ancient Moxie pins, posters and bottles, asked Potter to sign copies of his book and listened to Ancietti recite his Moxie mantra: "What is Moxie? It is the oldest carbonated beverage continously on the market today -- 111 years old in carbonated form. Invented in Union, Maine, in 1876, sold in various apothecary shops, first carbonated by Dr. Augustine Thompson in 1984. So now this tonic that once had to be taken by the spoonful could be enjoyed as a beverage. It is the beverage of gourmets." In his book, Potter recounts how Moxie, a nerve tonic made from Gentian root, was first marketed as a cure for "nervous exhaustions, loss of manhood, imbecility and helplessness." Its brand name later went on to become a word meaning pluck and perseverance. The Moxie lovers came again on Saturday, but spreading out from the corner store, the density of orange T-shirts thinned out among the thousands who came just because they heard Lisbon threw a pretty good party every year, regardless of what the folks there called it. A couple of years after the first book signing, the local chamber of commerce seized upon the event as a way to drum up business and add a little bounce to this former mill town on the banks of the Androscoggin River. First it was a 15-minute parade and a few charities selling hotdogs. Then a 30-minute parade and a few more charities. The years passed and the parade got longer. On Saturdy it lasted from 9 to 11 a.m. The three-day event included a small carnival with a ferris wheel and an air-filled dome for kids to jump around in, dozens of street vendors and food carts, and an outdoor stage with live bands. Organizers say it has become more a civic celebration than a homage to a soft drink that almost no one drinks anymore. Outside of New England, few have even heard of Moxie. But what was once the most popular soft drink in America remains relatively popular in the Northeast and has an especially strong following in Maine, said Toni Pappas, spokeswoman for the Monarch company, the Atlanta-based distributor that owns the secret Moxie formula. While sales are a fraction of what they were in the first half of the century, they have grown steadily since the 1982 book signing. The festival that it inspired later helped prompt Moxie lovers to form their own club, market Moxie memorabilia and hold conventions. "I've never seen a group of drinkers more loyal," Pappas said. "I've had kids call me up and ask me to send them a six-pack for their mom's birthday." She said she gets calls daily from retired New Englanders who moved out of the region and want to know where the nearest Moxie retailer is. When she tells them it's only available in the Northeast, they want to know how they can set up a distributorship. Several have tried and failed. The drink simply doesn't seem to taste good to people in other parts of the country. "It's the worst tasting stuff in the world." said Dick Shay, a Florida native who was at the festival to add to his collection of soft drink memorabilia. "I don't know how they stayed in business." Nest to him John Longo of Providence, in town to add to his fledgling collection of bottle caps, which cost as much as $125 apiece, took a swig from a 20-ounce bottle. "I could drink it for breakfast," he said, and then he went back to stand with Potter as the Moxie author admired Miss Teen Maine/USA and the Maine State Apple Queen and other beauty contest winners who glided by in big convertible cars. But Potter's favorite part of the parade was when the Moxiemobile -- a full-sized model horse mounted on a chassis -- came into view. He darted out from the crowd to stand on the running board. He got down as it turned the corner and passed in front of the store. Ancietti spotted the vacancy, stepped down from the curb and ran to take Potter's place. Reprint from: The Times Record - Monday July 14, 1997 |