Author: Ray

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Old Time Radio

Today’s “Old Time Radio” was then, my current time radio.

To about 1950, the radio was our connection to the world – as well as the daily Boston Record American tabloid newspaper. TV took over about 1950.

I can remember racing home just before quarter ’til five to listen to my favorite radio broadcasts. This would have been in the early 1940s.

The “quarter ’til five” was hard for me to understand when first learning to tell time. At some point, someone explained to divide the clock into 4 parts, place quarters (25 cent pieces) on a clock face: one on three, two on six, and one on nine. Bingo! One quarter after, two quarters past — or half past, then the quarter on nine was quarter before or “quarter ’til five!” All thanks to four quarters of a dollar.

I would race home on foot or on my bike, slide the rear wheel on the dirt walkway, run up the back stairs, through the kitchen into the living room, jerk the switch out, then wait for the old Philco radio to come alive. It seemed to take forever!

I think Jack Armstrong, “The all American Boy,” was first to come on, “Quarter ’til Five.” Sponsored by Wheaties, “The Breakfast of Champions.”

There were so many. I will mention a few that I liked.
Captain Midnight
Charlie McCarthy Show
Abbott and Costello
Aldrich Family
Amos and Andy
Baby Snooks
Batman and Robin
The Shadow: “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow Knows. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.”

Blondie and Dagwood
Bob Hope Show
Burns and Allen
Jack Benny
Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde
The Inner Sanctum
The Buster Brown Show: “Hi, I’m Buster Brown. I live in a shoe. Whoof! That’s my dog Tyge. Look for him in here too.”


I was six years old and a Junior Detective, I treasured that card.

Dick Tracy
Duffy’s Tavern
Fibber McGee and Molly
Flash Gordon
Gene Autry
The Green Hornet
The Lone Ranger and Tonto
Lum And Abner
Little Orphan Annie
Our Miss Brooks
Ozzie and Harriet
Sky King and Penny and their Songbird
Super Man And Robin
Hit Parade
You Bet Your Life
Popeye and Olive
Red Skelton
Roy Rogers
Sam Spade
The Thin Man
Tom Mix
Victor Borge (A favorite of my Dad’s)
And the WW2 News.

There are so many more. Some of my list were my Mom and Dad’s favorites, which I was hog-tied to the wing chair and forced to listen to!

The loss of the radio was devastating for a youngster of the 40s. The worst happenings would be a storm when we lost electricity, or I would have to go with Mom to pick up my Dad at the Greenbush railroad station!

Then there were the times that the power tube blew out or grew weak! If this happened during the week, it wasn’t so bad because Dad knew which one, took it to Boston with him, and got a replacement. Should this happen on the weekend, off to Chandler’s Radio Store for a replacement. Ya! It cost three times more!

Oh, and there was the “No Radio Tonight” punishment! That was a tough one!

So many shows were dropped in the late ‘40s as television took over. Some shows moved to TV, but it just wasn’t the same.

As I became a teenager I had less interest in the radio shows and they became history. TV took over for a while. Then 16, 17, 18 and on . . . there were other interests!

Google ”Old Time Radio” and listen to some of the shows.

by Ray Freden, 60 years in Seaview, 70 in Marshfield, 7 in Pembroke Maine.
“Maine, the way life should be.”
Down East, “It is that way”

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The Pine Street Dump

As long as I can remember, Sunday mornings were the dump run. Dad would get the trash barrel up onto the front bumper of his old Chevy, tie it down, then off to the Pine Street dump.

This was exciting to me. First, unload the trash. Then find as many of gallon jugs and wine bottles as I could. We would stand at the edge of the trash and Dad would throw a jug up into the air and I would throw a wine bottle at it. With luck, I would make contact and crash the jug to bits! Oh yes, there were many misses. I often wonder how dangerous this could have been.

Next, there was looking for treasures to take home. Sometimes I would find a usable toy car or truck, a table and chair for use in my tent, which was set up in our back yard. Dad’s great finds were old lamps that he would fix up to use in our house. The dump attendant was usually not there on Sundays, so “pickin” was uninterrupted.

One day, we arrived and unloaded. There was a desk upended, the drawers were out, and alongside, all empty. Dad uprighted the desk; a small drawer was still in it, the knob was gone and the drawer was stuck. I got a screwdriver from Dad’s toolbox and pried it open. Oh-my-word, it was full of watches and chains, rings, tie clips, cuff links and other gold stuff. Out came a watch, and as I was winding it to see if it worked, in came the dump attendant. He jumped out of his truck and shooed us out of there!

I slipped the Waltham watch into my pocket and we left. When we arrived home, Dad inspected the watch. It was running. What a find! Dad took it to a jeweler in Boston near his work. He had it cleaned and timed. The jeweler said it was a nice watch but very common and not worth a whole lot — that was in the 40s. Dad wore that watch to work for many years. I have no idea where it ever went. I often wondered what that drawer full of gold was worth!

Sometime after 1946, and under new ownership, the Seaview Garage’s attic was being cleaned out to create an apartment for the new owners. That attic was used for storage of auto parts from the 1920s. First the Maxwell auto car, then Ford model Ts, then the A’s. In 1932, the Ford B, the first Ford V-8s. Over 30 years of auto parts stored in that attic, all new and some parts still with paper wrapping.

One day after school, I arrived at the garage. Jimmy, a garage employee, had a dump truck under the trap door from the attic, and he was pushing parts into the truck. He was cleaning out the attic and taking the parts to the Pine Street Dump. Load after load! I so wanted all those parts dumped into my yard. My Dad would have no part of that.

I think how I could have become an antique auto parts supplier. I did salvage four Maxwell hubcaps, (new old stock). I somehow have lost them. Today, they would bring any price you asked!
All of those collectable auto parts, buried in the Pine Street dump. Maybe someone should excavate the dump to salvage those parts.

My dump “pickin” continued through the 60s. After getting married in 1962, much of the furniture in our first home came from the dump. I repaired and refinished it, and it served us well. Most of it was returned later.

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Strangers

If you have read my last blog, you know what an expert I was at knowing who was coming up and down Summer Street in their cars. There was one sound that I dreaded: the bell.

Sometime in the summer before World War II, I could faintly hear a bell up Summer Street past the Seaview Garage. I would run out to the edge of the street and see, just coming over the hill, a horse and wagon. Its bell would ding-ding-ding as the horse stepped along.

The Gypsies were coming! I would hightail it out to the Station Street side of our house and hide in the corner outside the porch. As I heard the bell pass by on Summer Street, I would peek past the corner of the house and watch them pass the Bonneys’ and then out of site. I would be a wreck!

My Dad thought they came to town for the Marshfield Fair, to sell wares, read palms, cards and other Gypsy tricks. My Mom told me the gypsies stole children!

My Dad said that they came every year at fair time, and they camped down at the Round’s farm. That was the dirt road beside 91 Summer Street. I was told to stay in the yard, and to make sure Mom knew where I was. I did and did!

After supper, at dusk, I could hear chanting and singing faintly off toward the farm. When the wind was just right, I could smell a fire burning. As the next few years went by, the gypsies came and went. One year — I must have been 12 or 13 — I was now old enough to be a Boy Scout and had a compass. It was with me most of my time not in school, as taking it to school was forbidden, as there were some bullies that would take it.

One afternoon I was sitting on the stone wall beside our house, trying to learn all of the directions and degrees for a merit badge, and then I heard the bell coming. I jumped up to look up Summer Street and sure enough, the Gypsies were coming. I was much older now, not a child anymore. I knew I could hide behind the big maple tree beside the house. I was about as big around as a pencil and the big tree would hide me. I would be able to see them up close as they passed.

As they approached, I had to slide around so as not to be seen, It worked — they went past, I could see the lady on the right side of the seat, the bright trim on the canvas cover, some tools attached to the wagon. I could even smell the horse.
As I came out on the south side of the tree and watched, the lady’s arm dropped down and she waved her finger. OH S—! She saw me! What to do?

I told my parents, and my Dad said not to worry. “They have been coming for years and no one has had any problems with them.”

I don’t remember when they stopped coming, nor did I ever find their campsite. My friend, the late Phil Randall, told me they camped not too far from the spring and not too far from his shop.
I recently spoke with a former Seaview resident, 90 year old Helen. She too remembers the Gypsies. Where they came from, or who they were, remains a mystery to me.

“Inside Every Older Person
Is A Younger Person Wondering
What The Hell Happened!”
Ray Freden, Marshfield, 70 years.