He became a viral ‘joke’ when a local Dunkin’ closed. He doesn’t want to be remembered for it.

The doughnut shtick has gotten stale for Dutch Smith.

Millions of people have chuckled at the local news clip about an arson that shuttered a Dunkin’ Donuts in Shamokin, Northumberland County, back in 2016. In the WNEP-16 “Residents Devastated After Dunkin’ Donuts Closed by Fire” segment, Smith and other regulars discuss, earnestly, why they’ll miss their “cheap” and “classy” Dunkin’.

“If I have any, like, legal work to do, I go there,” Smith told the reporter. “I meet with my attorneys there.”

Customer Alba Wehr smiles through the interview but expressed disappointment that she’d have to resort to Turkey Hill coffee and “donits.”

The Shamokin video went viral as people snickered over locals being so upset over a chain coffee shop. Comedian Daniel Tosh used WNEP-16’s clip to nominate Shamokin for a very dubious award: world’s biggest s—thole. Podcaster and comedian Theo Von, who has more than 10 million followers on various social media accounts, has been consistently sharing the video for years. Von showed it to occasional Dunkin’ pitchman Ben Affleck and former MMA fighter and podcaster Brendan Schaub.

Just last month, Von waxed about Shamokin again, with comedian Jim Norton.

“What’s his last name? ... Dutch Smith?” Von asked before queuing up the video on his This Past Weekend podcast in September.

Smith, a forklift operator, spoke to The Inquirer about Von’s latest mention of the clip, and his own struggles, outside a cafe in Scranton’s Nay Aug Park on a recent Sunday.

“I don’t want to be remembered as a joke,” he said.

Smith grew up without a father in Florida and Shamokin, and struggled with drug use, mental health issues, and run-ins with the law.

“I didn’t know my dad,” he said. “I didn’t have that discipline in my life, and looking back, I needed it.”

Smith said the video is a little painful to watch because 2016 was a difficult time in his life. He’s let Von know that, and they’ve traded a few messages, but he’s been hesitant to go on the show if it’s just going to be more jokes. Both men are sober.

Von did not return requests for comment, but has worn a “Dutch Smith” shirt.

When Smith was arrested for an alleged assault on a police officer at his mother’s home just a month after the news clip aired, the local newspaper described him as the “rapper who went viral after Shamokin Dunkin Donuts fire.” He spent several months in jail before the charges were dropped.

Today, Smith is a father and describes himself as a “faith-based multi-genre” musician, with sounds similar to Eminem, the late Mac Miller, and, now that he’s learning guitar, a bit of Post Malone. Smith was not making faith-based music in 2016, though. He described that era as “joke rap” and he even dabbled in “horrorcore” rap. Most of the lyrics are unprintable. Smith said he cringes when he sees the short video he made to capitalize on his 15 minutes of fame.

“I’m from Shamokin. I’m on the news,” Smith raps in the video.

Toward the end of the Dunkin’ Donuts news clip, Smith mentioned something about Shamokin that was lost in the laughter. It’s a simple observation that applies to many coal towns and other postindustrial areas of Pennsylvania.

“It’s the only thing this town has,” Smith said.

Shamokin has struggled since the end of the anthracite coal boom. Its population decreased 67% in a little more than a century, and today, it’s home to 6,942 people. For 10 years, it was under Pennsylvania Act 47, a program administered by the state Department of Community and Economic Development to keep cities “experiencing severe financial distress” afloat.

Shamokin exited Act 47 in 2024.

“And we’re in no better shape today. Probably worse,” said Mayor Mike McLaughlin. “Our tax base keeps eroding. People move. Businesses close and buildings deteriorate.”

In 1993, the New York Times dubbed Shamokin a “dying town.” Attempts to resuscitate have come in fits and starts. When The Inquirer visited in 2021, a former church had been transformed into a picturesque coffee shop. It has since closed, but according to the Shamokin News-Item, a new shop could open there by the end of the year.

The town has seen tourism rise since the opening of the Anthracite Outdoor Adventure Area, a vast riding area for ATVs, dirt bikes, and other off-road vehicles in adjacent Coal Township. Like communities in West Virginia and New Hampshire, Shamokin has allowed tourists to ride off-road vehicles on specific city routes to connect the AOAA with local businesses. On a recent Saturday night at Shamokin’s Heritage Restaurant, many patrons at the bar had spent the day riding in the park.

The Dunkin’ was more than a place to get iced coffee, and that’s a similar story for many chain and fast-food establishments throughout rural Pennsylvania.

“The bottom line is that it was a place that was important to people, particularly if they didn’t have the means to get around,” McLaughlin said.

The Shamokin Dunkin’ Donuts has since reopened.

While Smith was in the county jail, he said he had a “spiritual encounter” that compelled him to make changes. He didn’t elaborate. One of those changes was the tone and style of his music. Smith doesn’t use the term “Christian music” but, rather, thinks he’s aiming for people who are searching for God.

“It doesn’t sound like the typical Christian music,” he said. “I’m speaking to people struggling with drugs or thoughts of suicide.”

He made an elaborate video, complete with special effects, at Ricketts Glen State Park for a song called “Trust Him" that has close to 30,000 views. Smith said he performs at churches, youth centers, revivals, but not bars or clubs.

He performed a new tune on his acoustic guitar in Nay Aug Park.

“I wish I had gone viral when I was making this kind of music,” he said. “I know my music is going to make a change. It changed me at least.”

Other locals interviewed for the Dunkin’ Donuts video are harder to find. According to an online obituary, Wehr died at her home in 2017. Her family did not return requests for comment.

Smith and others, including those who commented on her obituary, said Wehr had her struggles. She was 44.

The comments also described her laugh and selflessness. Even in death, though, a few folks couldn’t help but crack a joke.

“Dunkin’ Donuts will never be the same,” one person wrote.