Christine O'Donnell's classmates get a cackle out of witch remarks

The class reunion was in the works way before witchcraft bubbled to the surface.

It was late summer, and Christine O'Donnell - Delaware's Republican senatorial candidate - had yet to stumble into the nation's spotlight when her former Moorestown High classmates decided to plan a get-together.

Nothing formal. Just a gathering on Thanksgiving weekend at the Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant in Maple Shade. Cash bar. Appetizers.

"A nice way to see 'old' friends," read the post on Moorestown's Class of 1987 Facebook page.

Things changed a bit after O'Donnell, proudly waving the tea party banner and receiving Sarah Palin's endorsement, won an upset victory in her state's Sept. 14 primary. A few days later, a television clip emerged of the South Jersey native boasting of "dabbling in witchcraft" and having a midnight picnic on a blood-spattered "satanic altar."

"Oh, my gosh, I was in high school," the conservative evangelical Christian told reporters, laughing off her 1999 comments on Bill Maher's Politically Incorrect. "How many of you didn't hang out with questionable folks in high school?"

With those remarks, her classmates' Facebook pages and phones lit up with interview requests from reporters as far away as Britain.

In the last two weeks, classmates have been offered money for their yearbooks, and some reporters even pried into the identity of O'Donnell's prom date, apparently hoping her teenage escort came knocking with a black corsage and a heart of sorcery.

Acknowledging their unexpected notoriety, her classmates have amended the reunion posting.

"Please be aware this establishment is not dark arts friendly," it now reads. "Broomsticks, wands, spell books and owls must be checked at the door."

Just a good-natured joke with no "meanness intended" toward O'Donnell, explained Jeff Tucker, 41, of Haddonfield, an '87 Moorestown alum helping to organize the event.

It's "a tongue-in-cheek reference to all the witches and goblins of Moorestown," he said with a laugh.

The remarks by O'Donnell, who now lives in Wilmington, have resulted in a humor-filled stroll down memory lane for members of the graduating class, a good number of whom have stayed in touch since their 20th reunion.

"It's been hysterical, actually," said Matthew Brickner, 41.

The Class of '87 had only about 265 students.

"Everyone knew each other," said Jennifer Wichterman, 41, of Moorestown, another classmate and a former Inquirer newsroom employee.

And nobody remembers any witches.

"Who were they? That's what we want to know," she said.

The half-dozen classmates interviewed for this article said O'Donnell's victory had filled them with hometown pride.

"It was like, 'Wow, someone we know is famous,' " Wichterman said.

Her classmates remembered her as Chris, a pleasant, unassuming girl from a big family in Lenola, the blue-collar section of Moorestown.

"She was always engaging and nice," said Terry Vosbikian-Testa, who still lives in town.

A "fly-under-the-radar type of girl," who didn't hang out with any one clique, Wichterman said.

In her yearbook, O'Donnell posed with the drama guild, which performed A Midsummer Night's Dream, and was a smiling member of the announcers club, which helped with the public-address bulletins.

Her yearbook quote is a stream of adolescent in-jokes.

"Blue Meeny, silly moon bear . . . and occasionally we monage . . . Pumpkin fairies . . . Mischief . . . But officers, our pajamas match. Bye Bye Beaner!"

Moorestown didn't have much for kids to do, her classmates said. There was the Friendly's on Main Street after football games, they remembered.

"I can go on the record saying there was no witchcraft being practiced there," said Vosbikian-Testa, who called the fuss over the comments "laughable."

Brickner got a kick out of the person on the Class of '87 Facebook page whose post suggested that O'Donnell might have confused "satanic ritual" with what went on at the Moon Base, a patch of woods between Main Street and Memorial Field where students hung out.

"It was a little clearing that had a couple logs for you to sit down on," Brickner said. "People would light bonfires, and there was always empty beer cans and cigarettes lying around. But there wasn't any witchcraft."

"I did the Ouija board. Does that count?" asked Wichterman.

The media requests have died down, said the classmates.

And a few dozen people say they plan to attend the November event. O'Donnell hasn't responded, said Tucker, who recalled serving with her on the 20-year reunion committee.

"She was extremely positive, helpful, kind, and dependable, just as I remembered her from high school," Tucker said. "We'd all love for her to come again this year. I can't imagine anyone wouldn't welcome her with open arms and congratulate her on her achievements."

Either way, Brickner said, "we'll have a bit more to talk about this year."