In the Shadow of a Superstar

Punxsutawney Phil never asked to be a superstar. The whole thing just landed in his furry lap.

Although Phil likes to spend the day lunching on veggies and sleeping curled up inside a warm log, he’s accustomed to the demands of his profession—photo shoots, mingling with an adoring public, making appearances at community organizations throughout the year, as well as on national television programs. He’s amused that those two-legged creatures believe he’s so important that his official handler, Bill Deely, has taken care of him every day for the last 10 years without being paid a cent. Even his veterinarian gives him free tune-ups.

And Phil is tolerant of the interest centered on him when, on Feb. 2, as many as 33,000 people descend upon Punxsutawney, Pa., (pop. 6,271) to watch him yawn, crawl out of his log, rub his eyes, and observe whether he sees his shadow atop Gobbler’s Knob, a wooded hill where the ceremonies take place. If he does see it, he returns to his bed, as lore has it, and slumbers through six more weeks of winter.

Phil’s image is inescapable in Punxsutawney, the Weather Capital of the World. It appears in stores and restaurants, signs, and on every imaginable kind of souvenir. A Groundhog Beer, produced in the nearby town of St. Marys, Pa., (pop. 14,502) is popular, especially around Feb. 2, and the trash can lids in town are shaped like groundhog heads.

Phil’s image is at the top of the front page of the Punxsutawney Spirit, the town’s daily newspaper, which throws journalistic restraint to the winds in this regard, publishing Groundhog Day countdowns accompanied by relevant facts, as well as a spread of several pages on the day after the event. Editor Tom Chapin makes no apologies.

“I think it’s a lot of fun,’’ he says. “It’s like living in Orlando and having Disney World there.’’

This whole business began in the 1800s when German immigrants settled around a former American Indian campsite 90 miles northeast of Pittsburgh. They brought with them a celebration of the mid-point between winter and spring.

“Cabin fever was a very real disease back then, when people were so isolated during the winter months,’’ says Michael Johnston, a member of the 116-year-old Inner Circle, a group devoted to keeping the legend of Phil alive. “Feb. 2 was a convenient day to have a party,” Johnston says. Another group, the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, has members in 28 counties.

The Germans’ animal of choice in this wishing-for-spring ritual was a hedgehog, but since hedgehogs were scarce and groundhogs plentiful around Punxsutawney, the celebration became known as Groundhog Day.

Although it was a popular event from the beginning, groundhog fever really got rolling in 1993 with the release of the film Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray as weatherman Phil Conners. Although the film was researched and “set” in Punxsutawney, much of it was filmed in Woodstock, Ill., because of limited highway access in rural western Pennsylvania.

After the movie “enlightened’’ the rest of the world about the wonders of shadow watching, Johnston says, attendance at the ceremonies swelled from around 1,500 to more than 33,000 at its peak, and the souvenir trade spiked. Yet, while local businesses benefit from the increased interest and the traffic that has accompanied it, the event isn’t about making money, Johnston insists.

All activities are free, and because of limited hotel space and few restaurants in Punxsutawney, little revenue comes into town through that channel. Surrounding communities benefit more financially than Punxsutawney. What Groundhog Day has become is both a tradition and the mystique that’s grown up around it.

That mystique lives throughout the year in activities such as the September Groundhog Picnic, at which time Phil sips “groundhog nog,’’ a magic potion that extends his life for another seven years. That’s why—members of the Inner Circle insist—the Phil we see today is the same groundhog that was prognosticating the weather more than a century ago.

“Look,’’ Johnston says. “If you start questioning the science of Groundhog Day, you’ve missed the point.’’

Pamela Rohland is a frequent contributor to American Profile.

Share This Story With Others:

 

Discuss this Article