After High School 1936-1940
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.