“Food, fellowship and music,” someone in her group said.

“The three ‘Fs,'” said Briscoe, drawing a laugh because she had forgotten there were only two Fs, along with an M.

A little later, Briscoe spoke of looking forward to the fireworks.

“Food, fellowship and fireworks!” Stoltz said. “The three Fs!”

Courtesy photo Hundreds of people turned out for the Main Line Mania festival at the Railroaders Memorial Museum on Friday, which wrapped up with a fireworks show.

Friday’s Main Line Mania on the eve of July 4 was the fifth such annual event for the museum, according to Executive Director Joe DeFrancesco.

It’s essentially a successor to Railfest, which included excursions on the mainline to the Horseshoe Curve, but which was derailed due to Amtrak policy changes some years ago, according to DeFrancesco.

Prior to the start of Main Line Mania in 2022, there had been the 2020 COVID shutdown, then a renovation of the museum yard — a new grass area, new landscaping, new concrete, new lighting and a permanent stage, DeFrancesco said.

Main Line Mania is more family-friendly than Railest was, according to DeFrancesco.

There are more vendors, with crafts and food; more kids activities, like yard games and a bounce house; and music that is less hardcore, according to DeFrancesco.

Courtesy photo Hundreds of people turned out for the Main Line Mania festival at the Railroaders Memorial Museum on Friday, which wrapped up with a fireworks show.

Like the museum’s Wing Fest, Main Line Mania is a fundraiser, so the museum can “keep the lights on” and so it can reinvest into the mission — updating exhibits and preserving the area’s rail heritage, DeFrancesco said.

Vendors pay a fee, and attendees pay by the carload to park — $10 for a regular space and $15 for a “VIP” slot.

The museum receives help from Discover Blair County and its corporate patrons, which are recognized by banners on lightpoles.

The event makes money, after paying for the bands, the advertisements and other overhead, although DeFrancesco didn’t say how much there was left over.

The event so far hasn’t had to contend with rain, according to DeFrancesco, who knocked on the two-by-four doorway of the temporary structure in whose doorway he was standing.

07/03/26 Mirror photo by Patrick Waksmunski / Main Line Mania fireworks photographed next to the 13th Street pedestrian walkway.

This year’s version had double the normal ticket presale, which was probably attributable to local “The Voice” veteran Gallagher being the headliner and to this year’s Independence Day being the 250th anniversary of the nation’s founding, DeFrancesco said.

Dave and Michelle Smith were sitting at one of the many picnic tables in the museum yard, about a third of the way between the semi-circle of food and craft vendors and the stage, where a country band was performing in front of an audience seated on camp chairs.

It was about 95 degrees, with humidity that made it feel like 104, according to an online weather source.

Asked whether they were bothered by the heat, Michelle said “a little bit.”

“I’ll take 100 degrees over 10 below,” Dave said.

07/03/26 Mirror photo by Patrick Waksmunski / Main Line Mania fireworks photographed next to the 13th Street pedestrian walkway.

Asked how enthusiastic they were about the semiquincentennial, Dave said, “Not in today’s world.”

They were waiting for a son and his children to arrive, the son having attended last year and having recommended the event.

They didn’t want to get into a discussion of politics.

“We’re middle-class-trying-to-survive people,” Michelle said.

Chuck Becher and his wife Amy of Altoona were walking along the row of vendors.

07/03/26 Mirror photo by Patrick Waksmunski / Main Line Mania fireworks photographed next to the 13th Street pedestrian walkway.

They were there to celebrate the 250th, Chuck said.

Was it a big deal for them?

“He was an Army vet for 40 years,” Amy said. “It’s very important to him.”

Chuck served from 1982 to 2023, with deployments that included Iraq and Afghanistan.

He was in combat in leadership positions in those countries, Chuck said, declining to be more specific.

For him, the 250th is “awesome.”

He was 11 in 1976, for the nation’s bicentennial, and while that was “amazing,” it also seemed less grand, more “localized,” he said.

As for Friday’s heat, “I’m not immune,” Chuck said.

Asked about his time in the Middle Eastern deserts, he said, “I was not used to it then,” either.

It was actually much hotter there, and he also had to wear much heavier gear than the short-sleeve shirt he wore on Friday, he said.

The heat was bothering Briscoe, the attendee from Tyrone.

“It’s brutal,” she said.

“It’s Africa hot,” said her friend Stoltz.

They discussed getting an umbrella to use as a parasol.

She can feel the heat on her legs coming up from the concrete pavement, Stoltz said.

As for the 250th, not as much is being made of it as was made of the bicentennial in 1976, according to Stoltz.

She didn’t think that discrepancy was appropriate, as “250 is a huge number,” she said.

“God Bless America,” Briscoe said. “Thank God for our country.”

“And our military,” Stoltz said.

Mike and Laurie McMullen of Martinsburg were sitting in front of the stage.

They like the vibe of community events like Main Line Mania.

They like the wings, the live music and the freedom to roam from chair to vendor booth to table.

Mike doesn’t mind the heat.

“I’m good,” he said.

He’d been golfing all afternoon.

It helped that he was using a cooling towel that he’d brought onto the golf course and to the museum event.

He had stored it in a cooler in ice water, and it was draped around his neck.

Like the towel, Mike was cool on the idea of celebrating the 250th.

“With politics the way they are, I feel a little downtrodden,” he said.

“The country is so divided, it’s hard to feel patriotic,” he stated.

There’s too much reflexive identification with the right and with left, he said.

“Peel the politics aside, and meet somewhere in the middle,” he suggested to anyone and everyone. “I’d like to see some of that divide bridged over.”

Cole Boone, 6, wasn’t worried about the politics or about the heat

He was sleeping on the outstretched legs of his mother Emily, who was sitting on one chair with her feet resting on another.

Cole’s head was on her lap.

Emily was minding the vendor setup for her mother’s of Red Aspen makeup and nail products.

Cole had been in the bounce house for 20 minutes.

He’d come back and said, “All right, it’s nap time,” his mother said.

He always manages to “find a way” to get his nap, she said.

The museum charged $30 for the vendor space — a good deal, Emily said.

It was still early, but she’d already sold a handful of products, she said.

Business would get better later, she predicted.

The event wrapped up with a fireworks show about 10 p.m.

Mirror Staff Writer William Kibler is at 814-949-7038.