Author: Ray

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What’s For Breakfast

Hey,CAPT CRUNCH, take a look. DIG ‘EM FROG and FREAKIES are harassing GUMMY YUMMY and COLD MONKEY. Send FRUIT BRUTE and FRANKEN BERRY over and shoo-em away!

Yes, if you take a look at the cereals available at today’s market, you will find names like this! I can’t imagine (when I was young) my Mom bringing home a box of COLD MONKEY or CRAZY COW! I would never have known what a breakfast cereal was!

As it was, I do remember, behind that grey cupboard door with the clear glass knob, were: a box of Shredded Wheat, Corn Flakes or Pep, and Rice Krispies. These were the dry cereals to which warm water or milk was added, along with sugar and fruit. During WW2, sugar and milk were scarce. Only the basics could be found in those cupboards.

My Dad’s favorite was two Shredded Wheat biscuits. He called them ” hay bales.” Softened with warm water, some milk, then topped with brown sugar. In season, sliced strawberries, peaches or raspberries
would be a welcome topping.

Corn Flakes or Pep worked for me until Cheerioats came along during WW2. I had to trade off the Pep, but that was easy. Cheerioats floated on top of the milk and stayed crispy much longer. The powered sugar I liked stayed on top much better. They stuck to the side of the bowl and had to be picked up with my fingers . . . not a bad thing until I got caught!

At the end of WW2, they discontinued the name ”Cheerioats,” and renamed them ”Cheerios.” A new name, a new box — I was devastated. I couldn’t be convinced they were the same.

Do you remember when you couldn’t wait to find the prize in the cereal box? Many times the box would get opened in the car and the contents rummaged through until the prize was found. My Mom would go bananas if she found out!

I think I was about 10, I discovered the variety packs of 10 single serving boxes. Kellogg’s offered: three Corn Flakes, two each of Rice Krispies and Pep, one each of Shredded Wheat, Bran Flakes, and Kellogg Krumbles.

Many of our old favorites have come and gone. It seems everything I really liked got discontinued. After WW2, there were so many more to choose from. Lots of sugar coated stuff with goofy names. As I left my teen years behind, so did my desire for any cold, soggy breakfast cereal.

Names like Quaker Oats, Kellogg’s, General Mills, Post Foods will remain in our lives forever.

by Ray Freden.  Seaview, 60 years. Marshfield 70 Years.

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The Hurdy Gurdy Man and his Monkey

I don’t remember the first visit of the Hurdy Gurdy Man and his monkey, however it was before school age. Maybe 1938 or 9.

During those early visits, my Mom would be with me on our Summer Street driveway. Mom would hand me a penny and I, in turn, would hold it out for the monkey. Those first years I remember of being timid of this dressed-up animal.

These summertime visits became an event to look forward to. Most of my days were spent out in the yard.   Being outside, I was aware of the noises of goings-on in the neighborhood.  This was during WW2, so the cars and trucks going by were few and far between.  It was quiet.

The faint melody of an organ playing just atop the hill, up past the Seaview Garage, got my attention. I would drop everything, run to the edge of Summer Street and look up the hill  as far as I could see at Banner’s house, where I would see the Hurdy Gurdy man grinding his organ,  his monkey would be  collecting coins from the kids.

His next stop would be the Seaview Garage. Pansy, the book keeper, and Eula, the owner’s daughter, had a weakness for that cute little monkey. I could see the monkey crawling all over them. How envious I was! How in the world could I get him to do that with me?

The stop at the garage gave me time to run into the house and shake pennies out of my tin bank. It didn’t take me long to learn to use a knife to jimmy out the coins. I now was armed with five or six pennies & waiting for the Hurdy Gurdy man to stop at my house.

”Hey kid”,  ”where- da pennies?”

Every time I handed out a penny, the monkey would look at his master.  Little did I know, he was looking for a command. After the fifth penny, the monkey got a command to hold my finger.  It was Later and older, that  I learned  silver coins were the secret to the monkey’s bag of tricks!

I remember so vividly the monkey’s outfits. During the hot summer months, the monkey wore a red and black vest with gold trim and gold-looking buttons; and a pair of black shorts with red side stripes and gold trim. Three brass buttons were on the sides of the shorts. It also wore a red fez-shape hat with a chin strap, and a gold tassel on top that flopped around. The monkey had a leash and collar that had worn away its neck hair.

The Hurdy Gurdy Man wore an outfit as a worn as the monkey’s was: a black shirt, sometimes white, and a black bow tie; a black vest with red and gold trim. Black trousers, sometimes knickers; black socks and shoes. His hat was a very worn fedora (maybe) with a gold and black feather, also very worn.

The Organ Grinder had black hair, sharp features and some gold teeth. He always wore a smile and my Mom said, “He had a twinkle in his eye,” whatever that meant.

Girls on Summer St. enjoying the Hurdy Gurdy man & his Monkey.

The organ was a square box with a crank handle, a leather strap, and a grille in front; it was supported with one leg.

On my Dad’s way home from the Greenbush railroad station, he would pass the Hurdy Gurdy man hiking up the long Summer Street hill. The monkey would be hanging on top of the organ that was strapped to the Hurdy Gurdy’s back. I know the organ grinder man and his monkey were still making the Summer Street trip in 1951.

I got my driver’s license in May of ’51 and sometimes would make the Greenbush railroad station trip to pick up my Dad. I too would pass the Hurdy Gurdy man somewhere on Summer Street, headed back to his car, which was parked on the old road at Stoddard’s Corner. I wondered many times how an organ grinder could afford that new, big, black Cadillac sedan, just collecting pennies.

The Hurdy Gurdy man’s Caddy parked beside a barn on Summer St.

For over 10 years, before 1940 to after 1951, Summer Street, Seaview,  Elm Street and Humarock were so fortunate to be entertained by some wonderful characters. I can find no record of the Man & his Monkey, who he was or where he was from.

by Ray Freden, Remembering the Village of Sea View.

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The First Blizzard I Remember (1940)

On St. Valentine’s Day in 1940, as I was approaching five and a half years, a horrific northeast blizzard swept over the northeastern United States. Seaview was left buried in snow.

It was on a Wednesday, and my Dad made it to Greenbush to take the train to work in Boston. The storm was getting worse. At noon his boss – knowing my Dad had a long trip home — let him off early. The next train to Greenbush wasn’t until 4:30. Dad had to wait four hours in the South Station . . . and my Dad didn’t like waiting.

Steaming out of Boston.

That early train just made it to Greenbush. Dad had installed tire chains on his car that morning, just in case the storm got worse. Route 3A was plowed, but at Stoddard’s Corner, Summer Street had a huge drift across it. Dad had to continue down 3A until he found a plowed road to Seaview.

Highland Street was plowed, as were Pleasant and Summer Streets. Station Street was not plowed, and the snow bank was too high to crash through. The Seaview Garage was closed for the night and had a space plowed open. Dad left his car and walked home from there, just two doors away.

Our streets were barely plowed.

I remember the snow was so high that getting in or out of the back door was difficult. Dad was over an hour late, but Mom had supper warm on the kerosene stove. Mom made a favorite dinner for Dad. Valentine’s Day was always special for my folks and so the dinner was eaten in the dining room by candlelight (this night we HAD to use candles — the electricity was out.

After supper, a white frosted cake with red heart shapes all over it, was dessert. Just after we finished, Dad placed a red heart-shaped box of Fanny Farmer chocolates at Mom’s place. Mom had first pick, I had the next — always a square one. Dad had last pick — he didn’t care which one. Then we had another round.

After supper, Dad lit his lantern, and went to shovel an opening out to Summer Street so he could get his car into the side yard. The wind was howling and stayed that way all night. The drifts were becoming quite high against our house — up to the windows!

We had a coal furnace for heat and the telephone was working. Our home was lighted by kerosene lamps and candles. Dad had a flashlight that he carried everywhere until the batteries went dead. When the flashlight was useless, he lit up a kerosene lantern.

The next morning, Dad got a telephone call from Bill Pratt, the Police Chief. He was asked if he would help dig out Summer Street between the O’Donnells’ and the Littles’. This is now the entrance to Cedar Acres Road. Dad agreed, got his shovel and walked down Summer Street to the site. There were many men and the older boys from the neighborhood there.

Men and boys shoveling through a drift.

When he arrived home in the late afternoon, he told Mom and me that they only made about ten feet of headway and Dad was beat! There were no plowing machines that could handle these fifteen foot drifts, and many were higher.

The ladies of the neighborhood kept a steady flow of coffee, sandwiches and goodies for the crew.

 

Also, there was a huge drift at the south end of Station Street and the plow truck couldn’t budge it. The north end of Station Street got plowed because Charlie Langille, our neighbor, was a town selectman. All hell would break loose if it didn’t get plowed!

On the third day, Saturday, Mom and I took a hike down to the big drift to watch the gang shoveling.

When we arrived, Dad was atop the drift, cutting blocks of snow that would be passed to the next shoveler, and finally into a waiting dump truck to be hauled away. In those days there were no front end loaders. I think there were only two graders in town, one was the town’s and the other was Gino Rugani’s. Gino’s was assigned to Stoddard’s Corner (Main and Summer). The crew got information about the goings-on around town from the truck drivers. It took three days to get through that drift.

I think Dad got to work in Boston on that following Tuesday. He said that along the way to Boston, from Greenbush, that the drifts were as high as the train.

I was to live in that house for another seven years, and every Valentine’s Day dinner, my folks would go over every detail of that 1940 “Valentine’s Day Blizzard,” and a box of Fanny Farmer’s candy would always there.

by Ray Freden, 70 years in Marshfield,/ Seaview.