Bob Tarantola knows what happens when you underestimate Halloween in his Casper neighborhood.
You run out of candy.
Then drive to the store, buy more candy, come home and run out all over again.
After 28 years living on Stafford Street with his wife, Carol, he doesn’t mess around anymore. For Halloween this year, they’ve stocked up with about $500 worth of candy.
That ought to get them through the night.
Maybe.
“We’ll get anywhere from 1,100 to 1,300 kids,” Tarantola said.
A few blocks away, Greg and Lauren Groves have learned the same lesson. Their first Halloween in the neighborhood, neighbors warned them what was coming. They bought four medium-sized bags of candy.
Greg Groves ended up making two emergency trips to the store.
This year, they’re armed with about 1,000 pieces.
It’s the annual ritual of living around Wolcott Street, where Halloween isn't merely a night when a few neighborhood kids knock on the door. For four hours every Oct. 31, the streets become a non-stop parade of witch hats, gossamer wings, and fantastical masks.
Wolcott itself is closed to cars through the heart of the neighborhood, giving kids the run of the street.
The crowds spill outward, too, onto Stafford, 12th and the surrounding blocks, where residents have learned that Halloween requires some preparation.
‘Like A Movie Scene’
The youngest trick-or-treaters show up around 4 p.m. Cars fill the surrounding streets. Families walk toward Wolcott. Porch lights flick on and residents haul their candy outside.
“It’s kind of like a movie scene, really," says Abby Roich, who lives on Wolcott just outside the busiest stretch.
Anywhere within a block or two gets “pretty crazy,” she said. This is known locally as "the Big Tree Neighborhood," and bright orange leaves carpet the sidewalks waiting for thousands of feet to crunch them.
“A lot of times, my neighbors, they don’t even sit in their house, they just sit in their yard,” she said.
Some build small fires outside and settle in for the night, passing out candy as an endless procession of families moves down the block.
Roich spends about $200 on candy herself, and she has developed a strategy: She only buys candy she won't eat.
That means suckers, small chocolate bars and Sprees — "I hate those things," she said.
This year, she plans to dress as a raccoon, a little nod to an ongoing chimney war with the local fauna.
Crowd Control
Tarantola said the crowds became so thick over the years that children began cutting through his rose bushes on their way to the house, so now he builds a small cemetery in the yard with caution tape along the sidewalk to help funnel trick-or-treaters toward the porch.
The massive turnouts have developed over the last 10 years or so, he said, and families come from all over to trick-or-treat in his neighborhood.
He remembers a hay wagon loaded with children rolling through Stafford one year, stopping to let kids pile out, grab some candy, and climb aboard again before moving down the street.
Another year, an ambulance appeared with its emergency lights flashing. At first he thought something had gone horribly wrong, but then EMTs jumped out and started passing out candy.
Despite having more than 1,000 strangers cross their property in a single evening, Tarantola said he hasn't had any problems.
“Everybody’s nice,” he said.
Groves has noticed the same thing. He said the kids are overwhelmingly polite, with parents often reminding the youngest trick-or-treaters to say thank you.
100 At Once
Groves grew up in a small Texas town, where costumes were often homemade. Kids cobbled together whatever they could find — bedsheets, goggles, old T-shirts — and headed out.
Casper is different.
“Now people spend — I mean, it appears that they are spending significant money on costumes, and I love that,” Groves said.
There have been moments, he said, when as many as 100 people were standing in front of his house at once.
After dark, the smallest trick-or-treaters trickle off, and by about 8 p.m. the older kids and teenagers hit the street.
The Groves don't mind giving teens candy, either. If they dressed up and came out for Halloween, they're welcome at the door.
“If they’re out trick-or-treating, they’re not getting into trouble somewhere else.”
He and his wife keep two leather chairs turned toward the front garden so they can watch the leaves fall while they dole out the goods.
The constant traffic doesn't bother him.
“It’s just kind of fun,” he said.
Once A Year
“There are many people that we only see once a year, and that’s on Halloween,” Groves said.
For Roich, it's the homemade costumes that still catch her attention.
She grew up in Rock Springs, where her mother made her Halloween costumes, and she still has a soft spot for a kid wearing something clearly created at home.
“Even if it’s a hand-me-down costume, the same costume they wore the past two years in a row … I think it’s all great,” she said.
It is the kids having fun that matters. By the end of the night, the sidewalks begin to clear.
Tarantola usually runs out of candy sometime between 8 and 9 p.m. When the last piece disappears, that's it.
“We can shut her down,” he said.
Kolby Fedore can be reached at kolby@cowboystatedaily.com.
