During the summer of 1936 I tried working as a grocery clerk
on Main Street. The people who traded there were mostly
Italians and most spoke very little English, so I couldn't
understand them. At that time you had to get each item for
the customer and after two days of trying to figure out what
they wanted I was so nervous that I had to quit. Then I went
to work for my father in the painting business. My first job
was painting a wooden railing down to the lake at a cottage
on the West Lake Road. I started out at fifty cents per hour.
My father used to take all the jobs, arrange the work and do
the collection. We had a very good line of customers and in
all the years I worked with him, we only had one customer who
refused to pay all of his bill.
About 1937 Dorothy was working for a state official as a
secretary, in Hornell, New York and she had a 1929 Ford coupe
that she wanted to sell. She and Barney had been married and
they didn't need two cars. They were living in an upstairs
apartment and Barney had started working as a plumber for the
man in the lower apartment who ran a plumbing business. My
mother bought the car for me for $50.00 and I went to Hornell
to get the car. I had just got my drivers license and driving
alone for the first time I didn't dare stop the car on the
way home. I just slowed down a little at intersections and I
remember making a right turn in Dansville through a red light
as I didn't dare stop. I soon got used to the car and admired
the rumble seat in the back. Ray Smith and I used this car to
go to all our baseball games and take our dates to all the
square dances. I named the car "Little Eva".
We went to square dances every Saturday night at Baptist
Hill, Cheshire, Bristol Springs, Honeoye or Atlanta. I didn't
know a thing about dancing so the first date I took to the
dance, I had several drinks and they pushed me out on the
floor keeping me there until I learned how. Ray Smith didn't
drive and he was always getting me blind dates so he could
have a ride. I went with a lot of girls-Althea Treble and
Rosemary Schmuck from Honeoye, Barbara Sherman from
Gainsville, Julie Jones from Bristol, and Earnestine
Fairbrothers (get that name) from Atlanta, New York. For
about six months I went with a beautiful girl, Ruth
Richardson from Woodville. She was so pretty I guess I was
lucky to have gone with her that long. These dances were all
in the winter time and we had to ride four in the front seat
of the car. We went to a lot of movies too, in Rochester and
Geneva.
I played baseball for several years with Ken Montanye, Skip
Dewey, Ray Smith and Len Pierce. I played for the Cheshire
team and the Canandaigua town team. It was called semi-pro
ball and we played teams from all around this area. The only
one that got paid was the pitcher. They had a try-out camp
for the Red Wings for three days at Red Wing Stadium in
Rochester. Ken and I signed up for it and we lasted two days
before being eliminated. Some of the pitchers were so fast I
could hardly see the ball go by. I wish that I had been six
feet tall and weighed more because I really wanted to be a
baseball player.
It was during these years that Len Pierce and I became good
friends. When we played for the Cheshire ball team we would
hang out a lot at the barber shop in Cheshire. They had two
pool tables and a coal stove at the back of the shop with
chairs around it. We used to get warm in winter while waiting
for a haircut or the chance to play pool. The barber was John
Johnson, an older man with white hair. We got a haircut for
$.25 and I went there for several years.
The gang used to hang out at Chase's Ice Cream Store on South
Main Street several evenings a week. We ate a lot of ice
cream and sundaes. Sometimes around 1938 I sold "Little Eva"
and bought a 1935 Ford coupe that used to belong to a
dentist. The finish was so dull from sitting out in the sun
behind his office that I polished it for about a month before
I got it to shine well. There were about six of us who went
to all the square dances together every Saturday night. We
would buy a half gallon of wine and at the dance we would set
the jug on the hood of the car and keep running out to it for
drinks. Nobody ever touched our bottles--probably didn't care
for our cheap wine.
One day in 1938 when we came home from work we found my
mother standing on the back porch with her head jerking and
she was unable to talk. We called the doctor and he said she
was having a stroke. We had no idea how long she had been
like this, unable to call for help. She was paralyzed in the
right arm completely and partially in the right leg. Her
speech was affected a little. In those days there was no kind
of rehabilitation so she was unable to do any work. My father
had to continue working so we hired a housekeeper to come in
days to do the cooking and housekeeping. I can imagine what
this did to my mother, having a stranger doing all the things
she had done for so many years. I am not sure as to how many
months she lived before she had the second stroke, which was
fatal. She never did go to the hospital because doctors made
house calls in those days. We had a Dr. Stetson and he would
walk right in the house without knocking and sit down at the
dining room table and visit with everyone before he would see
the one who was sick. I suppose with a family of nine
children he made enough visits to feel like one of the
family.
After having the stroke, my mother slept in a downstairs
bedroom and my father would sit by the bed in a rocking chair
and hold my mother's hand. He slept in the chair and still
worked every day. In my memory this will always be the
perfect definition of love. It must have been wonderful for
them to have a relationship filled with such love. At this
time, my mother, dad and I were the only ones living at
home.
My mother's funeral was held at home in the front room which
was called the parlor in those days. It was a common practice
to hold funeral services in the home at that time. As I was
19 years old, playing baseball, working and in love with the
girl next door, the full impact of my mother's death did not
hit me until years later. Like I suppose everyone else feels,
I now regret not doing more for my mother to have made her
life more enjoyable and easier for her.
When I was in high school I went to a Dr. Brockmayer who had
an office on Chapin Street almost down to Main St. His office
was in his house, in the front room. The charge was either a
dollar or two. He had a large roll top desk with a bushel
basket beside it. When anyone paid, he would throw the money
into the basket. I can still see that basket about half full
of $1 bills.
After my mother died, my father and I tried having a
housekeeper but that didn't last long and we decided to keep
house for ourselves. Dad did the cooking and as near as I can
remember we ate pork chops and canned peaches most of the
time. I did the washing and ironing and I could do the shirts
quite well. My father had a big oak roll top desk he used for
all his book-keeping. He saved dimes in a codfish box with a
slot in the cover. He nailed the cover on so he wouldn't use
them before it was full. He couldn't resist knowing how much
he had so every few days he would pull the nails out and
count it. I remember one day he was sitting at the desk with
one of those little rubber bladed defroster fans that they
used to put in the rear window of cars. He was trying to fix
it and he plugged it into the outlet. It ran like hell for a
few minutes before it burned out the motor. It surprised him
so he dropped it like a hot potato.
About 1937, a couple of years after high school, Skip Dewey,
Ray Smith and I went to Florida for two weeks. We went in
Skip's car which used a lot of oil so we carried a case of
oil in the trunk and would stop a couple of times a day to
add more. We rented a small cabin in Ft. Lauderdale and
stayed for a week. We didn't do much while there except lay
on the beach and watch the girls. At that time there wasn't
much else to do as it wasn't developed the way it is now. As
I recall it only cost each of us $75 for the two week trip.
On the way home I remember one morning on the road through
Georgia when we passed an old shack occupied by a black
family. The fields were white with frost and a little boy in
a white nightgown was running through the field to the
outhouse way out in the back.
We stopped late one night in Pennsylvania to put more oil on
the car and it would not pour out of the can. We had intended
to spend the night in a nearby town with Skip's brother so we
just drove the rest of the way. When we arrived we found out
that it was 15 degrees below zero and that was why the oil
would not pour!
My mother died in 1938 and the following winter my dad and I
went to Florida for two weeks. We stayed in a tourist home in
Orlando and drove around the state to places of interest. I
was in love with the girl next door at the time and couldn't
wait to get home. I probably made my father come back sooner
than he would have liked for that reason. However, when I got
home, she had become engaged to someone else and they
eventually married. Oh--such is life! We drove all the way to
Florida and back and only made one wrong turn. That was in
Dansville, New York and so close to home that it didn't make
any difference.
When Gordon returned from Nebraska, he started painting by
himself. I never knew why, but he always worked alone and had
his own line of customers. When work was hard to get just
after the depression in the early 1930's, Leon got a job as a
painter at Brigham Hall. He worked all his years there, for
low wages, just for job security. He built a house on Chapin
Street just across from our house. We dug the foundation with
a scoop pulled by Clarence's panel bodied truck and a chain.
We also used a wheelbarrow and shovels. He put up a ready-cut
house from Sears and Roebuck that cost $4,500. All the pieces
came cut and numbered, with instructions to tell you how to
put it together. He hired one carpenter and all of us boys to
help him. This must have been in the early thirties and the
house is still a nice looking one. Last year I noticed
that they put on vinyl siding. Leon had to sell it years
later for financial reasons and has had to rent since that
time as he never made enough money to buy again.
Dad, Clarence and I painted together and my father arranged
all the work and did the collecting. Clarence did most of the
high work and Dad did the open places as he was a fast
painter. I did the windows and became good at it. We worked
together well by each doing what he could do best. That saved
time and money. When my father was in his 70's he could
spread more paint than the rest of us, although he began to
miss spots when his eye sight was beginning to go. My uncles
Jim and Ed were in the painting business also; Uncle Ed wore
a tie and a celluloid collar all his life, even when painting
in hot weather. His wife did all the book keeping for him.
In 1939 my father married my Aunt Constance and I guess he
thought she was like my mother. She was just the opposite and
I don't think my father enjoyed life as much after that. He
worked right up until his death at age 75. He used to get up
with the sun and work in the Garden or mow the lawn until it
was time to go to work. He was a very good bowler and
traveled to cities in the area to bowl for money. I recall
one time when he won $100 in Auburn. One time he and Leon
went with a team to bowl in the national tournament in
Chicago. When he married again I moved out of the house and
rented a room on South Main Street, staying there about a
year before moving to another place just below Clark Street
on Main. I also lived there about a year.
There was a diner next to where I was living--one of those
diners made from an old trolley car--and I ate my meals there
for two years. I got to know them so well that I would just
walk in the diner, tell them I wanted dinner, and they would
fix me a plate. I never did know what I would be getting
until it was in front of me. On the nights I was going to
square dances I would tell them to give me fried foods so the
alcohol would not give me too much of a hangover. The food
was good and they gave you a lot of it. In the winter I
remember the windows being all frosted over and you couldn't
see in or out.
I rented a garage just around the corner on Clark Street where
I kept my car. One night after going to a Saturday night
dance, I put the car in the garage. The next morning when I
went to get it I noticed it had a flat tire. The garage floor
was dirt and the wheels were down in hollows. The snow had
melted off the car and all four wheels were frozen in the ice
in the hollows. It was such a narrow garage I had to back the
car out to change the tire. It was frozen so solid I had to
get the jack out and put it from the bumper to the front of
the garage and jack it backwards to get it loose. Not too
easy when you have a hangover! Sundays I would get together
with a couple of friends and we would ride to Bristol or
around the lake and go to a movie in the evening. We were
riding around the lake and parked somewhere up the East Lake
Road on December 7, 1941 when we heard on the radio that
Pearl Harbor had been attacked.
Sometime during 1941 I went to Rochester to find another car
and found a 1936 Pontiac that looked almost new for $450. My
old car was using a lot of oil and I had it parked in front of
the used car lot. When the dealer was checking out my car for
trade in value, I was hoping he would not start it up because
when you did so the smoke was so thick you'd hardly see the
car! I was lucky and made a deal. I had to drive back to
Canandaigua for the money and once again to Rochester to
close the deal. Just on that one trip I had to add four
quarts of oil. Good thing it lasted the trip as the Pontiac
was a real nice car.
In the fall of 1941 we had very little work and it was time
for me to find work somewhere else. I had been called by
Uncle Sam, had my physical and reported to the draft board. I
was classified 4-F due to flat feet and a hernia (which I
still have and was never bothered by). I wanted to be in
service somewhere and so I went to Rochester and tried to
join the Marines or the Navy. I even tried to get into the
ambulance corps. With my 4-F status I couldn't get into
anything. I borrowed $10 from my father and applied at about
ten places in Rochester. This was the only time in my life
that I borrowed money except for when I bought a car or
house.
During this time some of my friends were entering the
service. This was between Pearl Harbor and April of 1942.
Pete Lenzi decided to hitch-hike to California and, if he
couldn't find work, to join the Marines. He took one suitcase
and I gave him a ride as far as Avon, letting him out at the
statue in the center of the village. I'll write more about
Pete later. Ken Montanye entered the army and we had a big
party for him at the camp in Berby Hollow. Len Pierce also
joined up about a month before I did.
In December of 1941 I got a reply from my application at
Kodak and went in for an interview. I got a job at Kodak Park
and was one of the first three hired for a new product. Ray
Smith was hired soon after I was. The whole building where we
worked was empty except for the three of us and a boss.
Kodacolor film was being put on the market and the building
was being set up for developing and printing. The first few
weeks I spent polishing the reclaiming tanks on the ground
floor. After the first month I had fourteen men working under
me so it was a good opportunity for me. If I hadn't been
drafted then, there is no telling how far I might have gone.
When the film started coming in Ray Smith was working on the
floor above me and I was in charge of the basement. By March
things were really busy, and then, even though I was 4-F,
they called me for the draft. I was glad to go, but now
realize what a great opportunity I missed.
When I
started working at Kodak, Ray Smith and I with another
friend,
Kippy Oskamp, who also worked in Rochester,
rented
an apartment on Alexander Street across from the Genesee
Hospital. During the week I parked my car in a large old
building in the area and they took the cars up an elevator to
the top floors. It used to be an old flour mill and every
Friday night I would get the car to go home for the weekend. It
would be almost totally white from the remains of the flour in
the building so I had to wash the car every weekend. We rode
the bus to and from Kodak daily. We had to go up a stairway
inside the apartment and were to be very quiet. One night some
of the boys from home had a party. When they left we carried
out a large bag of bottles and cans, the bottom gave out at
about the top step and the entire contents clattered down the
stairwell at two a.m. Needless to say, we were asked to move
soon there after.
Kip Oskamp went into the Air Force ( a bombardier, I believe
and his plane went down in the Japanese war...he was missing in
action) so Ray Smith and I rented a room in a house on a small
street in Greece NY which was nearer to Kodak. The owners name
was Riley and now they live in the same trailer park in Florida
as Ray. We worked different shifts so when we worked the noon
to 8 pm shift we couldn't go downtown after work as the buses
didn't run after 10 pm so we couldn't see any movies. We spent
a lot of time sleeping. My car was still over by Alexander
Street and I only got it on weekends. I remember standing out
on the corner during the winter in a blizzard waiting for a bus
to go to work. It was snowing so hard you couldn't see the bus
until it was 20 feet away. I ate at the cafeteria at work and
on the way home I would stop at the White Tower to get a bowl
of soup.
The houses on Shady Lane were all the same and one night after
midnight Ray Smith came home and went in the side door.
The bathroom was just inside and there he was sitting on the
john with the door open. You can imagine his embarrassment
when the stranger indicated he was in the wrong house. It was
a wonder the owner didn't shoot him as a burglar. I guess they
changed the lock after finding out that the keys fit both
houses.
At this time I was making $26 a week, renting a room,
making car payments, and had enough left to run around with on
weekends. It was in March or April that I received my draft
notice. The day I left Rochester it snowed two feet and I had
to shovel snow for hours to get my car out. I drove to
Canandaigua and left all of my things with my father. I left
the car with a friend who worked at a gas station down by the
lake and he stored it in his barn. I owed some on it but they
couldn't collect from you while you were in the service.
After I was in the army about a year, I wrote to him and told
him to let it go back to the finance company. I don't know why
I didn't keep it or at least let someone in the family finish
the payments. It was a very good Pontiac and I didn't owe more
than a couple hundred dollars on it. In the service you soon
got the feeling that your chances of living through the war
were
pretty slim.