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It wasn't always this way. At the first festival, in 1925, known then as the "Blessing of the Blossoms," the focal point was a prayer service conducted by two local ministers in praise of cherries, though there was also a parade featuring Spanish-American War veterans. And even this inaugural celebration had underwriters: the Rotary and Kiwanis clubs covered the day's expenses. While few pine for such simplicity today, some festival participants found it a particular outrage that the quintessential cherry product, pie, had been essentially hijacked by the deep-pocketed, frozen-food mass marketer Sara Lee. When a forerunner of the giant company bought out a local pie plant in 1979, the writing was on the wall for any prospective local competitor. One rival, frustrated by the pie-slice prohibition, tried something especially bold last year. She mashed up her pies, put the fragments in plastic cups and called them cobbler. No trouble from the pie police.
Festival organizers insist that the change in pie policy has as much to do with Sara Lee's reducing its sponsorship level this year as it does with expressed concern about the shutting out of smaller businesses. Indeed, the victory for vendors and consumers could well be the festival's loss. The 6,000 Sara Lee slices typically sold at the festival are donated by the company, with proceeds funneled back to the festival organization. But next week Sue Musser of Selkirk's market will be eagerly serving customers for the first time. She predicts that her pie sales will double to 1,200, thanks to pastry reform. (Whole-pie sales were always allowed, but really, who wants to lug around a 10-in. tin while you're strolling around a festival?) And how about the industry leader? Suzi Anderton, Sara Lee's liaison for the festival, claims not to be nervous. "Competition is great. May the best pie win!"