Don's Memoirs

POP GUNS, TRICYCLE RAMPS, AND BOWS AND ARROWS

I don't remember how old I was, but I was quite small. For some reason I was staying with my aunt Elsie, who was married to an antique dealer. She lived in Sellersville in what I think was half of a twin Victorian house. I don't know why I was there. I don't think it was because my sister was being born because if that were the case I would only have been about six and a half years old years old and I am pretty sure that I was older than that. I think I was about eight years old. Maybe my parents, who would have been in their mid to late thirties when I was eight years old, went on a vacation of some sort and farmed their four children out to various relatives. Then again, perhaps I was only about six years old.

The thing I recall most was that I was allowed to use a very small rifle, about 15 inches long, that shot corks at little celluloid birds that sat on a wire strung between two small posts. I would lie on the floor for long periods of time shooting the corks at the birds, missing most of the time.

My aunt's house was next door to a building that housed the Elks or the American Legion or some such thing. It had a concrete ramp along the side which I delighted in. I was allowed (maybe I did it without anyone knowing) to ride a tricycle up the ramp and then go zooming down to the bottom. Probably a dangerous thing because the ramp ended not far from the street.

The house had a large barn behind it which was filled with antiques. My uncle Ira, who I don't think was around very much and who was later divorced from my aunt-- very uncommon in my family-- once took me into the barn, pulled out what he said was a genuine Indian bow and arrows and allowed me to shoot some arrows into the air with it. I feel confident, now, that it could not have been genuine. Actually, the arrows were a sort of dud. They didn't fly straight or I didn't shoot them right, but I thought I was really hot stuff because he had also put some Indian-like feather thing on my head. It was probably phony also.

THE WOODS

There was a woods behind the house I grew up in, and on hot summer days three or four of us (only boys, of course) spent hours wandering about and chasing and hiding from each other. Often I was with one of my brothers. I had one older and one younger and I think we were between ten and fourteen years old. We were convinced that one area of the woods, which contained a long, winding, slightly elevated mound, was a part of an old Indian trail. This was apparently lore handed down from boy to boy, and we believed it implicitly. We searched diligently for arrowheads and other traces of Indians from the past but although we occasionally found stones that we tried to convince ourselves were authentic arrowheads I think that we really knew that they weren't.

One of our favorite things to do was to swing from a tree. We would find the right kind of tree that was the right size and trunk thickness. I don't now know what kind of tree it was but at the time we could easily identify the right species. What you had to do was climb up to the top of the tree, which would begin to sway back and forth, and then, grasping the top of the trunk, fling yourself outward so that the tree would bend outward and downward from your weight and lower you toward the ground. If the tree was just the right size and if you were just the right weight the tree would arch out and you would end up with your feet about a foot or two above the ground and from there drop to firm earth. As was to be expected we occasionally became overly optimistic in our search for a higher and higher drop from the leafy heights and would become stranded some ten or twelve feet above the ground. There were two basic ways to get out of this dilemma. The first, considered to be the most virile, was to shinny back up the arched trunk and then back down the trunk to the ground. The other method, used most often, was to have your fellow adventurers assemble below you and then drop into their arms, which were waiting to break your fall.

Passing through the far part of the woods was a dirt road called Poker Lane. I don't know if it then had a proper name, but that's what everyone called it because about fifty yards from it through a well-worn path was a small clearing that was the site of a regular Saturday and/or Sunday afternoon poker game frequented by grown-up men. In this clearing was an old round wooden table top supported by boxes or some such thing along with boxes and old stools which were obviously used as seats. The entire area was usually littered with empty beer bottles, cigarette and cigar butts, and other debris. We would often poke around this area is search of I don't know what, and occasionally we would be surprised to see that the litter and trash had been cleared away.

On one Sunday afternoon several of us, attracted by the sound of talk and laughter, approached the area, pretending that we were Indians on a scouting mission against the evil palefaces - we were convinced that all the Indians that had lived in our area were good Indians. We were seen by the poker players who chased us away with loud threats. They probably thought it was funny, but we were scared and never went there again when we thought a game might be in progress.

We also gathered hickory nuts, which had a very small hard nut within a thick dark greenish shell. There was very little meat in the shell but occasionally, at the right time of the year, we were able to gather enough and had enough patience to pick out enough nut meat for my mother to use to bake a delicious nut cake.

That woods was a place that was full of adventure for us. The last time I was there a large part of it had been turned into a swimming pool and its adjoining parking lot. I couldn't find the site of the poker game.

THE FAIR

The Montgomery County Fair was held every year in the late summer in Hatfield where I grew up. As young boys my brothers and I, as well as most of the other boys in the small town, wanted to go to the fair on most of the week or ten days it was active. It was in the middle of the depression before World War II and therefore we had no money. Most of us managed to go to the fair anyway whenever we pleased. Our method of entry was not legal but for some reason my parents, who were very strict about honesty and integrity, looked the other way even though they must had known that we were sneaking into the fairgrounds without paying.

Every year during the fair all of the young boys in the town somehow knew where that year's place was to crawl under or climb over the fence around the grounds. This place changed from year to year but often it was at the same location in alternate years and usually there was more than one good entry point. One good location was at the fence close to the men's outdoor toilet room. The proper method of entry was to wait until the patrolling guards were at their remotest location, quickly crawl under the fence, dash into the men's toilet, and then casually saunter out of the toilet room while slowly buttoning your fly. We really thought we were clever.

I later realized that many, if not most, of the guards were local men from the volunteer fire department who no doubt knew what was going on. They also probably knew all the local kids, knew we had no money, and took long strolls from our favorite entry points to give us the opportunity to slip under the fence.

Once we were inside the fairgrounds we spent a lot of time just wandering around, often with our eyes to the ground, searching for dropped coins. One of the best places to find coins was in and around the beer tent. The ground of this canvas covered "beer garden" was covered with sawdust and wood shavings and the entire place had what we considered to be a horrible smell which we thought got worse and worse as the fair progressed. Unfortunately, whenever we entered the tent where the pickings were the best we were usually chased out before we had a chance to pick up any nickels or dimes. If we found a quarter somewhere we considered ourselves to be very, very fortunate.

The fairgrounds also had viewing stands alongside the race track. There was a central section which had a roof over it and enclosed space below for displays prepared by the Boy Scouts and other groups. On either side of this grandstand were bleachers without any roof. These bleachers had a steel supporting structure with pieces that were spaced just close enough together so that a boy could climb up the back of it. We had to do this because that stands were the only place where you could see the special shows - which required additional entrance fees. Many times the shows were things that didn't interest us but when they had a Lucky Teeter or some other car show that featured cars racing up ramps and jumping over other cars and other such daring feats we spent a lot of time trying to elude the guards and climb up the back of the bleacher. The guards there were not the local men and eluding them was much more difficult. One of our tactics was to have four or five of us start to climb simultaneously on the assumption that they couldn't catch us all at the same time.

***********************  MORE FAIR ? **********************

NEWSPAPERS

I think I was about twelve years old, maybe thirteen, when I first started to deliver newspapers. You had to buy your newspaper route from the previous owner in those days, and although I can't remember how much it cost I do know that it couldn't have been too expensive or I wouldn't have been able to afford it. I either borrowed the money from my parents or, more probably was allowed to remove some money from my savings account with the stipulation that I repay it or dire consequences would result.

Whatever it cost I do remember that the newspaper, The Evening Bulletin, at that time cost three cents a day and was delivered for six evenings for a total cost of 18 cents per week. The boys who delivered the papers received one cent for each paper delivered; thus, for my route of about 35 papers I earned two dollars and ten cents a week, which went quite a long way when you realize the a Hershey bar with almonds, larger than those currently sold, cost only five cents and that there were other chocolate bars, slightly smaller, that cost only one cent each.

The newspapers were delivered by the 5:15 P.M. local of the Reading Railroad. They were thrown out of the mail car along with the mail, and each boy's papers came wrapped together with wire and had a label with his name on it. One of the first things you had to acquire, after the bicycle (about which more later, maybe) was a pair of wire cutters to cut apart the wire. For some reason these clippers were not shared, each boy had his own. Only in the event that a cutter was lost or if there was a new paper boy would the cutters be shared.

Occasionally your papers were not on the train, or were not thrown off when they should have been; you then had to go to the public telephone which was about a block away in the trolley station (there wasn't one at the train station), put a nickel in the slot, make a collect call to some newspaper office in Philadelphia and announce that your papers hadn't arrived. You then had to return to the train station and wait for the next train which was about an hour later. If you were lucky, they were on that train, if not you had to wait for the next one. All in all a very frustrating time which resulted in not getting your dinner until even later that usual.

After the papers were released from their binding we all sat on the bench of the train shelter, which had a roof but was enclosed on only three sides, and folded them into the proper configuration to be thrown onto the proper front porch or doorstep. After the papers were folded they were put into the cloth paper-bag, which hung across the body and over the shoulder.

Everyone then hopped onto his (there were NO female paper boys in those days) bicycle and sped off on his rounds as fast as he could on a one-speed-only bike. After a long practice period we were -- almost always-- able to toss the paper onto the right porch or doorstep without getting off our bicycles. There was, however, one area of my route which was made up of about eight row houses, six of which I had to deliver papers to. I had to slow down there and sometimes stop. The totally elapsed time for my entire delivery was about forty-five minutes.

We collected our weekly eighteen cents on each Saturday evening from each of our customers, and we all had one of those little change making machines attached to our belts. We thought that was pretty hot stuff. As a result, to this day I am still able to recite an eighteen-times table: eighteen, thirty-six, fifty-four, seventy-two, ninety, a dollar and eight cents. One of the first deliveries I made on my route was to the local drug store, a good customer because they always paid on time. I must have done a good job of that delivery because a year or so later, as I was collecting for the paper, "Doc" who owned the drugstore asked me if I would like a job working in the store before and after school and on week-ends. I said I would have to ask my parents; they said it would be a good thing to do; so I sold my route (I have no idea for how much) and began my high school career as a drug store clerk.

The Drugstore

One of the first things that "Doc" Herzel told me when I started to work in the store was that I could eat as much candy and ice cream and stuff that I wanted. He was a smart man. For about the first few weeks I think I did nothing but eat, but it soon became boring and for the next three years I don't think I ate more than one or two pieces of candy or dishes of ice cream in a week, and in my later years there practically none at all.

I remember this but I have no recollection at all of how much I was paid. I'm sure that it was considerably more than I got from my paper route because I spent a lot more time there. I usually was there at eight o'clock in the morning for forty-five minutes before I went to school, went back to the store every day after school until I went home for dinner, and when I had more experience I was there on many evenings until the store closed at eight o'clock. Fortunately I did very well at school and rarely had homework to do. When I did, I did a lot of it right in the store. In my last year there, when I was a senior in high school I was left alone and in charge of the store on Thursday nights while Doc went to his Kiwanis meeting.

When I first started to work there was another young employee, Elsie Hiller. She had just started her senior year in high school and I now know that I had a year to be groomed as her replacement. She taught me the ropes and also how to clean the soda fountain, which had to be done every Saturday morning. This was a long and somewhat messy procedure which usually took the two of us about an hour. During this we were very unhappy if customers came in and wanted anything more complicated than a Coke.

Later, when I was a senior in high school and was in charge of the store on Thursday nights, I had two local women as regular soda fountain clients. World War II was still in progress and I guess they were a little lonely. They would just ask me to make some elaborate concoction from the soda fountain and I was very obliging. I put together some really unbelievable creations and since I was the one who set the prices for these things, I usually gave them a lot more for their money than they could get elsewhere. But then there was no elsewhere in that town.

Elsie and I were left alone on Thursday nights when Doc went to his Kiwanas meeting. One of the local farmers would come in about once a month and hang around the magazines and other noncommittal store locations until Elsie was far away and I was at the counter at the rear of the store. He would then move swiftly to the rear counter and in a low voice say "I want some safes". At my first encounter, after some additional talk, I figured out that he wanted contraceptives. In a very blase voice -- very sophisticated, that was me -- I said "Three for a half or a dollar-quarter for a dozen", even though I knew that he always bought three. Elsie and I thought the whole performance was pretty funny and we quickly became experts at moving around the store to our proper positions as soon as possible after he entered the store.

I didn't realize it until much later, but working there was very good for me. I'm still not the most outgoing person (unless maybe if I've had a few drinks) but when I started there I was very, very shy. When I was in the store I had to talk to people, ask them what they wanted, be nice, be friendly and all of that. Doc must have known that I was that way as I am sure he had checked me out before he offered the job; it was a small town and it would have been easy to check up on me.

About once a week I had to mop down the floor of the store with linseed oil. It was a pretty messy process. I took this big can of linseed oil and spread a large blob of it onto a section of the floor and then took a mop an spread it around. It took a long time to do the entire floor (the store was about 20 feet wide and about 60 feet deep). The mop was kept outside in a kind of shed.

Doc had a '39 or '40 Buick. which was always shining and clean. He parked it next to the store and more or less in front of the entrance to a stair that went upstairs. Somebody used the big space up there to give tap-dancing lessons. Everyone in town could tell when Doc wasn't there because his car was not in evidence. Then the people who he didn't like very much would come in to buy cigarettes. During the war-time years they were in very scarce supply -- "Lucky Strike has gone to war"--and were not kept on the shelves where they had been kept, but were under the counter. Only the favored customers were able to purchase them. When Doc wasn't there I would sometimes would sell them to some of his less favored customers. It gave me a great sense of power.

There were two display windows on each side of the recessed entrance to the store. One of my jobs was to wash these windows and then install new displays. The windows were always washed with ammonia and water and dried with crumpled-up newspapers. The displays were usually little and large pyramids of various kinds of over-the-counter medications and fold out cardboard vignettes supplied by the manufacturers. Every once in a while a representative of one of the suppliers would arrive and create a new display in the window. From them I learned how to create things for the window with crepe paper. Crepe paper. I became very adept a producing tubes, rosettes, and other paper extravaganzas. Thumb tacks were an essential part of the creation. They, buried within the rosette, concealed the ends of the crepe paper tubes which stretched from side to side, diagonally and around the edges. All in glorious colors over a floor of flat, overlapping crepe paper. Did all of this cause me to become an architect?

The displays only got changed when the paper became faded and the window had accumulated too many dead flies.

Below the window to the left was a poster for the movie theater in Souderton, the town my mother was from. It was about ____ miles away. I had to change the poster each week to let all of Hatfield know what was playing for the week. For doing this I received, or I should say the store received a free pass to the movie. On evenings I was not working I would regularly take the trolley and go to a show. (More about the trolleys later). I saw a lot of movies. I don't remember any of them except that for a long period of time they would show a short about Brigadoon which I guess was then a big hit on Broadway. Since I was a small town boy I had no idea what it was and thought it was extremely boring.

All that tartan!

Navy

I went directly from High School into the Navy. My older brother, Leon, was in the Navy. Ed Minner who lived with us for a while had been in the Navy. I was just 17 years old and had no real idea of what was going to happen. I enlisted while I was still in high school to enter after graduation. By doing this I was able to get the benefits of the so-called GI Bill of Rights. World War II was actually over by the time I enlisted. They didn't induct me into the navy right away but waited until they had a big bunch of us and then did it with a big ceremony on the 4th of July on Philadelphia.

After the ceremony they piled us all on to a train that took us to boot camp in Bainbridge, Maryland. A naval training site close to the Susquehanna River.

Trolley Car

Pig & Whistle

Bicycles

Navy