249 towns say they're the capital of the world
Five different towns are the Watermelon Capital of the World.
We keep a list of town nicknames in our database. It covers 1,202 towns, and 249 of them claim to be the capital of the world at something. Not the county. Not the state. The world.
A word about that list. It's been sitting in our database for years, like most of what we have, so treat it as claims on file. We're not the judges.
The watermelon situation
The five are Hope, Arkansas, Cordele, Georgia, Rush Springs, Oklahoma, and two in Texas, Naples and Weatherford.
Cordele's chamber of commerce says it settled the matter back in the 1990s. Rush Springs still throws a watermelon festival every summer and still uses the title. Nobody's backing down.
It isn't just watermelons. Our list has five Strawberry Capitals of the World, in California, Florida, Louisiana and North Carolina. It has four Peanut Capitals, three of them in Georgia. There are three Horseradish Capitals, and two UFO Capitals, both in Wisconsin, about 185 miles apart.
Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and Bucyrus, Ohio, both claim bratwurst. We're staying out of that one.
The smaller the town, the better the title
The big agricultural claims are fine. The good stuff is further down the list.
Windom, Kansas, with an estimated 90 people, is the Covered Dish Capital of the World. Sumner, Missouri, with 81, is the Wild Goose Capital. Eau Claire, Michigan, claims Cherry Pit Spitting. Madison, Minnesota, claims lutefisk, and good for them.
Beaver, Oklahoma is the Cow Chip Capital of the World, and it can back that up. The town has been hosting the World Championship Cow Chip Throw in April since about 1970. The chips have to be at least six inches across. The town's trademark is a cartoon called King Cow Chip, and he wears a crown.
One of them earned it the hard way
Colon, Michigan has about 1,200 people and calls itself the Magic Capital of the World.
The magician Harry Blackstone started spending summers there in the 1920s. An Australian magician named Percy Abbott followed him, the two went into business, and then they fell out and reportedly never spoke again. Both stayed in town anyway.
Abbott's company started a magicians' convention in 1934. It still happens every August. For four days a year, a village in southern Michigan fills up with people who can make a coin disappear.
The one place it can't go
Here's the funny part. Under the federal sign manual, none of these titles belong on the city limit sign.
The manual says the green boundary sign shows the name of the place and not much else. It specifically bans "promotional messages, such as notable accomplishments or claims."
So by the book, the official sign into Beaver gets the name. The cow chips have to go on a sign the town puts up itself.
Plenty of towns have done exactly that. It's what the welcome sign and the water tower are for.
Go ahead and tell them
Five towns can't all be the watermelon capital of the world. Somebody's wrong, and it may be all five.
You're welcome to drive to any of them in August and say so.