COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES:

Friday is the Fourth of July, our nation’s birthday. Did you know that? I’ll bet you did. Could there be anything more patriotic? I don’t see how.

We have covered the history of Independence Day before. As holidays go, celebrating the Fourth remains virtually the same today as it was in Philadelphia in 1776, except for the silly clothes.

If Franklin, Adams and Washington came back to life this Friday, besides causing a panic on cable news, they would recognize today’s Fourth of July hubbub instantly, from the picnics to the parades to the fireworks.

But it occurred to me that in the relentless quest for cheap, vulgar humor — I tell you, what some people will do, it’s an outrage — we have neglected an important part of our history, and one of the most recognizable icons of the United States of America, i.e., where do hot dogs come from?

OK, fine, it’s not quite as major as the Declaration of Independence or the Bill of Rights, but it’s important.

The short answer is that no one knows for sure. Hot dog historians agree on very little.

Obviously, the easy answer is Germany — given the centuries of bratwurst, knackwurst, weisswurst and so on. People in Frankfurt claim that they are responsible for the best of the wurst including the first, which they say they cranked out in 1487.

“Just look at the name,” they say, “frankfurter,” to which people in Vienna say, “Oh, hah! Ever heard of the name ‘wiener’?” they ask, dripping with sarcasm. It just so happens that “Wien” is the Austrian word for Vienna, thus the name “wiener,” which they claim they invented long before that frankfurter thing. We’ll let them fight it out, but how did the hot dog-frankfurter-wiener make to the USA?

Almost all roads lead to Brooklyn and America’s first real amusement park, Steeplechase Park at Coney Island.

In 1871, a German immigrant named Charles Feltman opened a hot dog stand in Coney Island, arguably America’s first.

Feltman called his dogs “dachshunds,” for obvious reasons, which was also their nickname in Germany. In his first year, he sold 3,684 of the hot dog-frankfurter- wiener-dachshunds.

In 1916, one of Feltman’s employees, Nathan Handwerker, scraped together enough money to open his own place. Feltman may have been the teacher, but he was quickly overshadowed by his student, who named his new venture “Nathan’s Famous.”

Nathan’s is still puttin’ on the dog at Coney Island, to say nothing of its annual hot dog-eating contest, which is guaranteed to make you never want to see another hot dog, for a few hours anyway.

Last year’s winner? Joey Chestnut of San Jose, which is nowhere near Brooklyn.

Joey inhaled 66 Nathan’s hotdogs, with buns, in 12 minutes — yikes — beating out six-time champion Takeru Kobayashi of Japan, which is even farther away from Brooklyn.

Hot dogs became inextricably wound with baseball in 1893 when Chris Ahe, the owner of the St. Louis Browns, decided to give the little pups a try.

The story is that Ahe ordered his vendors to shout, “Get your red hot dachshund sausages!” which was quickly shortened to “Get your red hots” — yet another nickname.

So when does the term “hot dog” come along? The answer is eight years later, in 1901, at a New York Giants game at the old Polo Grounds in the Bronx.

Harry M. Stevens was the concessionaire at both the Polo Grounds and Yankee Stadium and coincidentally, my first employer, since the first job I ever had was as a vendor at Yankee Stadium.

Let me hasten to add that Stevens was long gone by the time I showed up, but the company was still around.

Anyway, in 1901, Stevens’ vendor started selling dogs in the Polo Grounds, still calling them “red hot dachshunds.” The fans went bonkers and started downing them like they were hot dogs.

The legend is that a New York sports cartoonist named Ted Dorgan ran a now-famous cartoon of a dachshund in a bun, but he couldn’t spell “dachshund.”

Up against his deadline, he sent the cartoon off with the caption, “Get your hot dogs!” The cartoon ran the next day, the name stuck and the rest is history, sort of.

To this day, we are crazy for dogs. Four-hundred and fifty hot dogs are eaten every second of every day in these United States, which comes to 65 dogs per person, per year. And I am very pleased to report that 87% of Americans prefer mustard on their dogs, not ketchup, which should be a misdemeanor punishable by flogging, at least.

Finally, I leave you my traditional Fourth of July gift, and no, it’s not a hot dog. Get on the Internet, turn up the sound and try this site: www.njagyouth.org/ Liberty.htm.

Just touch the night sky with your cursor and you can make your very own fireworks show. Don’t thank me. It’s my job. Happy birthday to us, and may God watch over our troops and bless this country forever and ever. Now go have fun, and a dog. No ketchup, please.

I gotta go.

PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays. He may be reached at ptrb4@aol.com.