Category: Humarock

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Pizza Pies

2/9/2020.
Today is National Pizza Day.  And, YES, I will be making a cheese & pepperoni pizza tonight.

I am including a previous published blog. Many of my new followers may have not seen it.

Enjoy your PIZZA day!      

Research tells me the first American pizzas were known as “tomato pies.” Tomato pies are built the opposite of the “Pizza Pie,” first the cheese, then the toppings, then the sauce.

It wasn’t until the 1950s that Americans started to notice pizza. Celebrities of Italian origin such as Jerry Colona, Frank Sinatra, Jimmy Durante, and baseball star Joe DiMaggio all devoured pizza. It is also said that the line from the song by famous singer Dean Martin, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore,” set America singing and eating pizzas! [1953].

I cannot remember having a pizza during World War II or before. My parents would try many places for a Saturday night pizza. The closest pizzas were the Bridgwaye Inn and the Humarock Lodge, but neither were satisfactory.

Next tries were a place in Fieldston, then Brant Rock, with no luck.

A Greek restaurant in Scituate, nope. Not that these pizzas were bad — they just were not pleased with some part of the pizza.

Maybe 1947 or 8, my uncle Herb, Dad’s twin, got a nighttime job at the Rockland Bar and Grille in Rockland. Herb alerted my parents to the great pizzas. One Saturday night we drove to Rockland to try one. I think in those days there were only cheese pizzas. It was great!

Whenever my folks wanted a pizza, off to Rockland we went. I can remember after I got my driving license (May 1951), I would be sent to Rockland for a takeout pizza.

In 1949 or 50, a new building was constructed at 20 Sea Street, in Humarock (really Seaview). A family from Quincy, that operated a pizzeria in Quincy, opened Miramare Pizza as a summer business.

There was Sal, the cook; his sister Celeste was the waitress and cook; and the matriarch mother, Naomi, ran the cash register. They would let me stash my bike behind the building when I went to Humarock. This was during the rebuilding of the new Sea Street bridge, during the summer of ‘ 51 (completed in 1952).

After stashing my bike, I would take my chances crossing the bridge over the catwalks provided for the work crew. They were planks maybe 10” wide and stretched randomly across the spans of the old part — and some of the new parts of the construction too. We kids from both sides would, at night, go to Humarock or cross back to get to the pizzerias, or to “Stead’s.”

Pizzerias, yes. At one time, another pizzeria opened in the Davis bakery across from Miramare’s.

Miramare’s pizza place had plenty of parking, but the joint across the street did not — so people would park in Miramare’s lot and walk across the street to the other place.

Well Naomi would have no part of that. She would yell out the front door to get the hell out of her lot! If they did not respond, Naomi would stomp right up the stairs into the joint and make them move their car or she would call the cops. She would make quite a scene!

Some of my friends liked the other pizzas. One time I joined them but didn’t purchase any food, only a soda. Well Naomi saw me coming out of the joint and did she give me hell.

I explained I didn’t buy anything but a soda. It didn’t matter. If you’re going in there, don’t come in here!”

Later that night, I went into Miamare’s for a pizza with a friend. I got the cold shoulder from the old matriarch.

One cheese pizza: 75 cents. Two drinks: 20 cents. A 15 cent tip. Total: $1.10, split 55 cents each. That was the summer of 1952.

 

Miramare’s stayed into the 60s. It closed soon after Sal died.

Now Papa Gino’s gets our $10-$12! We don’t have a Papa’s here in “Down East” Maine, so my wife and I put together a pretty good ‘roni and ‘shroom pizza every Sunday night.

I don’t remember 5 cents.
But I do remember a 10 cent  slice.

There’s no better feeling in the world than a warm pizza box on your lap.

Kevin James

Ray Freden
Sea View resident 60 years, Marshfield, 70

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Prohibition & Rum Running in Sea View & Humarock

10′ Toppan boat. Mfg in Boston Ma. 125 dollars. 225 with engine.

For nearly 14 years, 1919 to 1933, our country was dry!  It really wasn’t,  but selling alcohol was illegal. It didn’t take long for the “swamp Yankees” to turn to “rum running.”

Illegal contraband liquor was a profitable enterprise for the water people. Boat motors were quickly converted over to more powerful and faster ones, and the insides of vessels were gutted for more space. A schoolmate, Alfred A., told me that his stepfather’s lobster boat was a “rum runner.” It had a big motor in it, and was quite narrow & very fast.

Safe unloading areas were located. Bays, harbors, rivers, creeks, and other landing spots were found. Humarock was one of these safe places — or at least more safe than other harbors. Federal funding was weak and the revenuers had to spread themselves thin.

Looking N.E. from Ferry Hill with Fourth Cliff in the background.

 

This boat house on Little’s Creek, was the perfect ”Drop” location.

 

The North River mouth was the water highway out to the mother ships that were waiting three miles out to unload their contraband into smaller boats and dories. A very reliable source told me that most of the dories came from Hatch’s Boat Yard and gunning stand. Others came from the North River. Most of the dories were powered by two rowers.

On a good night, a row out to the “Mother Ship” and back, took most of the darkened hours, depending on the weather. On occasion, unfavorable weather would delay the boat-men’s return. Daylight would give them away, so they would row up into a remote creek, cover their dory with marsh grass, and hunker down for the day with nothing to eat or drink ! Up to 20 cases could be safely stacked in the dories, however greed and poor judgment sent many boats floundering and losing their contraband. Some of this contraband would find its way to shore, where scavengers would find liquid gold!

  A mishap?

Lookouts were needed to warn the boatmen of any danger that may come about. Lookout posts were stationed from the Sea Street Bridge to Fourth Cliff.

The lookout on the bridge was a well known local that had a non-drinking reputation, and liked to fish. His gear was a tin bucket, bait, a sharp knife, a hand line, a flashlight and cigarettes. Time on was 9 or 10 pm; off was daylight, rain or not. If the boats were out, you were on. Over would go the line, baited or not. Sometimes this lookout was joined by a friend — his line would go over with a bottle of hooch tied on the end. This was to be retrieved periodically.

The hooch was unloaded at various locations. The cases were picked up by Chevy 6-cylinder panel trucks. Chevys were quieter than the Ford Model A’s. Canvas snap-on signs were attached to each side with a local milk company logo.

I was told, by the same reliable source, that only once, during this guard’s time on the bridge, did he have to call off a landing.

One night, just before midnight, a big black Packard with four men inside, strangers, stopped on the bridge and asked where so-and-so’s cottage was. The fisherman gave them directions, and off they went. The fisherman/guard flashed a signal to the lookout on the point down river, and the signal was passed on to the cliff.

Packard  Autos were one of the finest cars.

That night’s truck was turned around and disappeared .   No one else ever reported seeing the car or the men. No one saw them leave; no one reported using so-and-so’s cottage. However, this was a subject not discussed, and questions were unthinkable.

My late friend Phil, a Seaview native, told me the following. It seems that Charlie, Phil’s father, took a walk to Pine Island. While coming back, just off the walkway, he saw a newly tracked path in the marsh grass. Off he went to investigate. He found something that was covered over with marsh grass. A case of 11 bottles of hooch!

”Hooch”

A bottle of Hennessy’s cocnac, found in the river,
Given to Webster Clark during the prohibition.
 Photo compliments of Fred Freitas

Even though Charlie was a teetotaler, he was not going to leave this find. He covered it back up and waited until dark. Charlie made his way back through the cedar grove to the edge of the marsh, found the case of hooch, then made it home without being seen, he hoped! He stashed the case in the cellar, where his wife would not find it, as she was death against alcohol.

Within a few days, word reached Charlie, that Wally, a heavy drinker, was on a killing rage. It seems that someone stole his property from the Island. He was telling everyone in Seaview that if he found out who stole his property, he was going to kill them!

You see, the property was never Wally’s. He probably found it stashed in one of the creeks by a boatman. Charlie never uttered a word. Some of Charlie’s friends enjoyed a holiday gift!

This Chevrolet panel truck is much like the ones used to deliver illegal liquor ”Hooch” to the speakeasies.

 

 

 

”Prohibition makes you want to cry into your beer and denies you the beer to cry into.”

Don Marquis

Ray Freden, Seaview resident, 60 years.

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Hatch’s Boat Yard

As a kid from Seaview, I have always been fascinated by Humarock. From as early as I can remember, about 1939, until 1954 when I broke away from my year-around visits, finding other places of interest. However I always have to take a drive up to the Cliff when I’m in the area.

One fall day my Dad piled me into the old Chevy and off to Hatches Boat yard — I can’t remember why. We arrived and Dad parked in front of the shed-like building. We got out and went up a few stairs, through a side door and into the front room. There was a large desk and chair, and some stuff hanging on the wall.

The men and Leon Hatch were in the back room — but let me describe the building and area.

The area is on the west side of Central Ave, Humarock — across from Seaview Ave.

The largest building ran with its gables east and west, with large sliding doors on the east side — they seemed boarded tight, with no ramp or entrance.

The entrance door was on the left side, with maybe 3 steps.

There was a smaller, shed-like building, attached on the left (south side), with two doors. If any boat building was going on, it was in there. There was room to park in front of these doors.

The foundation on the north and west was made of field stones, of which some are still visible today.

Dories were stacked on one another on the south side. On the north side there were tracks that ran from near the street to below the low water line. A cradle with wheels sat on the tracks, and a winch was at the head of the tracks.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      The gunning stand  on the river side.

The building was shingled and silver grey and in poor condition outside. There were two brick chimneys, one in the shed-like building, and one in the west room of the main  building.

The store, cottages, boat building barn & machine shop on the Ocean side.     These two paintings are as I remember the Hatch’s.            W. Ray Freden.

My Dad and I walked through the front room, knocked, and went into the back room. Oh wow! Four men were sitting around a table, playing cards; a bottle of whiskey sat in the middle. You could hardly see across the room, the cigar and pipe smoke was so thick. The back (west) window was open, so I headed that way.

My Dad was talking to Leon. The others greeted my Dad with a, “Hi Bill.” My Dad worked for Charlie Clark (Clarks Store) from 1927 to 1934, as a clerk and real estate agent, so he was no stranger to the Humarock people.

As I peered out the window, the river was full of ducks and geese! They were acting strange, not moving about as I had seen in Keene’s Pond. I asked the man closest to the window about them. He said they were decoys.

“What’s a decoy?” I asked.

He explained they were made of wood, and the ducks thought they were real.

It was coming together now — guns leaning against the walls, gun shells on the shelf. I was fascinated, I was excited, I wanted to see the ducks come in and land beside the wood ones. No one in our family hunted, so I knew nothing about guns and hunting.

I paid no attention to what my Dad and Leon were talking about. I just kept looking out that window at those decoys. As I turned from the window, I accidentally kicked a gun that was leaning close to the window. It went crashing to the floor. Well all hell broke loose. One man hollered at my Dad to get that G–D— kid out of here!

Well, I was on the way on my own! Through the door to the front room, out the door, and down the steps into the old Chevy, down on the floor bawling my head off!

Dad was close behind and into the Chevy. Off we left to home. Dad assured me it was an accident and not to worry any longer.

                                             The last ship built at Hatch’s.

A stop at “Steads,” a bottle of Ballantine Ale and a cigar for Dad, and a candy bar for me. All was well.

The many times that I have passed Hatch’s, I so remember that day. And never set foot in that building again!

Ariel  of Hatch’s taken in 1940.

                                                   Hatch’s as seen from offshore.

                                                Hatch’s as seen from the river.

Excerpts from ———

On the right was my grandmothers house, to the right of her house, the old store, garage, boat shop and machine shop. The ridge camp was right on the ocean and every few years rocks were bulldozed up to protect it. You could sit on the roof in lawn chairs and enjoy the view. My grandmother rented it out to some people who had a house on Nantucket that did just that.There were some cottages to the left of her house that had been collapsible they still had hooks and eyes and used to be taken down in the fall and chained down so they wouldn’t wash away if the ocean came over the ridge and covered with marsh hay during the shooting season. A couple of these cottages had long term renters that were there every summer and took care of the houses as if they owned them.

I was born in 1946 and by the time I was old enough to notice it was pretty run down. I was only actually in that building once or twice. People were robbing the place blind, especially stealing the mounted birds etc. Because they were preserved using arsenic there was concern that someone could be harmed. There was a moose head from a hunting trip to Canada during prohibition, booze was smuggled home as mincemeat of course real mincemeat has booze in it and this had more than its share. My dad donated the moose head to a moose lodge and off it went in the back of his 1947 Studebaker truck, antlers hanging over the sides. For those who aren’t familiar with the Studebaker truck ,they weren’t very big. I saw one a few years ago and was shocked at how small it actually was.

To the right of grandmothers house was the old store a small building up on 4 blocks. This was the only building that made it through the 78 blizzard pretty much unscathed. There were three long buildings ,long side parallel with Central Ave., the garage, boat shop and machine shop. Behind that was the ridge camp. Grandmothers backyard was surrounded by a low cement wall there was the oil house on the right. To the left up near to the house a cistern, just behind that a brick structure about the size of a grill,it had a galvanized liner and this is where they used to cook lobsters back in the day. When the lobsters went in they ran a flag up the flagpole to let people know that there would be fresh cooked lobsters for sale. To the left of the house was the long camp, next to that 1 or 2 small cottages 1 was Delaneys and behind that up on the ridge was Johnson’s. I’m going to play with your photo and see if I can see it better.

I think they were taken after the 1938 hurricane. The house on the right in the top photo was the main house where my grandmother lived, the buildings in the other picture were to the left of the main house.The building in the top left of the second photo was demolished at some point, all the others I remember.

 

This clipping isn’t in the best shape and the year is missing.I looked on a perpetual calendar and Feb. 24 fell on a Saturday in 1923, 1934. I feel that it was 1934 because my dad made the half model and Leon took it before my dad was finished with it.My dad was 22 in 1934. I have the half model.

The stories, I have plenty of those as my father was a great storyteller. The agents knew they were running booze out of Hatch’s but only ever found a small bottle of blackberry brandy in the safe. During a raid my dad ,carrying a burlap sack of bottles, ducked into the outhouse, hung the bag below the seat on a nail, pulled down his pants and sat. The agent opened the door, said excuse me sir and left.