Posted on 08/15/2015 7:49:29 AM PDT by FlJoePa
There are some people who are so integral to the character of a place that they become something larger than themselves.
Ernie Oelbermann, legendary owner of the Phyrst and bandleader of the Phyrst Phamily band, was one of the those people. He wasn’t just an older man with a smile and a banjo; he was a defining part of what living in State College was like for countless residents and Penn State alumni.
His daughter Kathy DiMuccio recalls a familiar scene from every Saturday night during the 32 years he owned the bar and performed with his rotating cast of musicians: Ernie would descend the stairs into the crowded basement of the Phyrst decked in his trademark hat and spectacles as a crowd of people formed around him, eager to hear his laugh and experience his uncontainable love for people.
Dozens of cups would pound against tables in the divey bar, creating a rhythmic beat while voices chanted: “Er-nie! Er-nie! Er-nie!” And the man himself, almost embarrassed by the enthusiasm, would smile sheepishly as if to say: “Aww shucks guys, no need for all that.”
In addition to owning the Phyrst from 1968 to 2000, Ernie is also the namesake for Famous Ernie's Steaks next door.
“He was like a magnet, and he just drew the students to him because he was so fun, so full of joy,” DiMuccio says. “He had this way about him where he wanted to know everyone’s name, and he wanted to know about them, and he really, genuinely cared.”
But despite the almost fervent devotion many Phyrst regulars had for Ernie, he was almost an enigma in his own way. He was widely known as the man behind the iconic Phyrst Phamily band singalongs, but DiMuccio says that many people (sometimes even close family friends) didn’t always see the other facets of his life.
Ernie was a bonafide bomber pilot, having served in the United States Army Air Forces in World War 2, flying 29 missions over Nazi Germany in the 390th Bomb Group in a B-17 bomber. After the war but before the bar, Ernie was a highly successful engineer and Penn State researcher with a master’s degree in physics from American University.
He was a devoted husband for 65 years to his wife Becky, a loving and attentive father to six children, a shrewd and successful businessman who grew a small bar into a Penn State institution, and deeply spiritual Catholic who never neglected to say his rosary.
DiMuccio recalls that Ernie and his wife Becky were like local celebrities among Penn State students, who affectionately called them "Beck and Ern."
But, maybe more than anything else, Ernie was a joyful man, the kind of person who can meet someone for the first time and make them see the value in themselves because he already knew it was there.
“Ernie’s willingness to accept and be a part of everyone’s unique experience was unparalleled. He was a 50-year-old guy who could relate to 20-year-old kids,” says John Hook, a friend and former co-manager at the Phyrst.
“I think his ability to do that was probably a function of his non-judgement,” Hook says. “He wasn’t trying to tell people what to do, he was going through and embracing uncertainty, understanding that things are going to happen so all you can do is make the best of them and keep moving forward.”
Ernie kept moving forward until the morning of August 12 at the age of 90, when he passed away quietly in his sleep after suffering what may have been a stroke, DiMuccio says.
“I think we’re all very peaceful about dad’s death,” DiMuccio says. “He was 90, which is pretty big number, and he had such a full and happy life.”
As part of that life, his daughter says, he became part of the lives of countless other people. When DiMuccio announced his death on social media, and when the story later hit the news, the response was almost overwhelming.
“30 years worth of Penn Staters saw his death and thought, ‘that’s Ernie from the Phyrst! I can’t believe it!’” DiMuccio says. “And the messages were all things like, ‘there was nothing like signing with Ernie at the Phyrst on Saturday nights,’ ‘I loved the Unicorn Song,’ ‘I loved the Penn State chants,’ or ‘those memories of Ernie and the Phyrst Phamily were the best part of my Penn State experience.’’
Saying that last message out loud, DiMuccio pauses for a second, her voice quietly trailing off. Then she repeats, in a hushed and almost reverent voice: “‘Those memories of Ernie and the Phyrst Phamily were the best part of my Penn State experience.’’ She pauses again.
“Wow,” she says simply, more proud of her father’s life than saddened by the loss.
"Saturday night...Saturday night...We all get together on a Saturday night. We slip on our shoes and what do we do?...We go down to the Phyrst and we suck some brews! Saturday night...Saturday night..."
Thanks for posting this...I didn’t see that Ernie had passed. Though I frequented Zeno’s more than the Phyrst in my undergrad days, I always enjoyed a Saturday nite with the Phyrst Family.
"We are Table #1, #1, #1.
We are Table #1, Where the F**k is Table 2?"
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