Marshfield MA history – Page 5

April 18, 2011April 10, 2019

Cars and Drivers

Before World War II, there was not much traffic on Summer Street. I learned at a young age to recognize the sound of a neighbors’ car before it came into sight.

There were two neighbors with 1930s Model A Fords that had a very distinctive sound. Harry Rogers from the “Hills” had a Model A Ford that he used to deliver spring water (Canoe Tree Springs) to neighbors, as well to “Steads” and Clarks’ store. Ralph Hatch’s ’36 Ford had a rattle somewhere underneath — it drove me crazy! Why doesn’t he fix it? Mrs. Stiles’ ’37 Plymouth would emit a huge cloud of smoke when she accelerated it! In the early 50s, she would stop at the Seaview Garage once a week for a dollar’s worth of gas, and every other day for a quart of oil! She left with a cloud of smoke behind.

Many drivers coming down Summer Street would shift to neutral at Seaview Ave. and coast past the Seaview Garage, then clear down to Keene’s Pond. My Dad would coast down Summer Street from the Lampson Estate to about the Hitchcocks’ house, (663 Summer Street). I have always wondered how much gas was saved.

From Memorial Day and into the summer, it would be a challenge to identify who was coming down the street, because of the arrival of the summer folks. Many bigger and newer models — Packards, Caddies, Buicks and an Auburn. These, made my game difficult.

The most noisy were Gino Rugani’s Sterling trucks. They were huge, 1930s green and red painted monsters with a chain drive. There were 3 or 4 of them. One was used to haul his bulldozer or shovel on a low bed trailer. All of them sounded different and the drivers drove them differently.

These were first kept across from the Rugani home on Dog Lane at Pleasant Street. I would hear them climb the hill on Summer Street; from Pleasant Street to Seaview Ave, their chains would grind, then as the truck coasted passed my house, the chains would make a slapping sound with no load on them.

1940 Sterling Dump Truck

I could tell when Louie, Gino’s son, was driving — his shifting was different than Buddy’s, their truck driver and mechanic.

I could hear these trucks on Church Street on their way home in the late afternoon, slowing at Church, Elm and Summer Street — there was no stop sign in those days — then start up Summer Street at Randall’s under the strain of the long grade uphill.

Occasionally, Louie would take me on a short trip in the dump truck. It was so noisy inside you would have to holler to be heard! Louie was the foreman of the operation, which was the biggest in Marshfield. Louie drove a Ford 100 green pickup, and wore a baseball cap with a Heinz pickle pin attached to the front. Louie loved that pin.

One afternoon about five, I was pushing my bike up the hill on Summer Street from Pleasant Street. About halfway up, Louie came over the hill towards me, in his ’47 Ford pickup. I waved to him. Just as he passed, he backfired that Ford at me! It scared the bejesus out of me! I thought I was shot! I shook all the way home!

That was the first time that happened, but not the last. I expected it to happen again, anytime he passed me. I learned that trick well. Later in life I used that trick many times. My favorite spot was going past Sonny Oxner’s garage on Ferry Street, letting out a blast when Sonny’s doors were open. Sonny cursed me many times.

Centre Marshfield Garage, AKA, Oxner’s, Sonny’s.

Photo complements of Ned Dubois.

W. Ray Freden, Marshfield, 70 years.

March 21, 2011January 24, 2023

Ho Jo’s

Our shopping trips always seemed to take us past a Howard Johnson’s. In the 40s, I don’t remember calling Howard Johnson’s “HoJo’s.”

Howard Johnsons, Route 14, & then – Rte 3. Pembroke, Ma.

On our trips to Brockton, we would leave Seaview, finding our way to Water Street in Pembroke, turn left on what was then Route 3, then right on Route 14. A Howard Johnson’s was on that corner, next to the Gilbert West Box Mill. There were long windows in front and on the south side. I remember sitting inside on the south side and how bright and warm it was.

The 2×4 Ho Jo’s on Bedford St., Whitman ma.

c. 1940.

As we wound our way through Whitman, there was a Howard Johnson’s snack bar, an eat-outside only. It was a 2×4, as my Dad called it. Many years later I found out what a 2×4 building was!

Over the railroad tracks in the Montello section of Brockton, another HJ’s. I remember having our lunch there. We always had the same thing . . . that I will reveal later.

Late in the afternoon, after shopping, we headed home on Route 123. When we did not take Neal Gate Street to 3A, I knew that Dad had a plan. He would go to the lights in Greenbush, turn right, and then take another right into the nicest Howard Johnson’s I can remember seeing: a beautiful building, manicured grounds, and a paved parking lot.

There was always room to park. The front of the building was full of windows that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Above the orange roof, on a cupola, was my favorite weather-vane, ”Simple Simon and The Pieman,” with a dog. How I wished we could have one on our garage.

Simple Simon met a pieman going to the fair;
Said Simple Simon to the pieman “Let me taste your ware”
Said the pieman to Simple Simon “Show me first your penny”
Said Simple Simon to the pieman “Sir, I have not any!”

Simple Simon went a-fishing for to catch a whale;
All the water he had got was in his mother’s pail.
Simple Simon went to look if plums grew on a thistle;
He pricked his fingers very much which made poor Simon whistle.
He went for water in a sieve but soon it all fell through;
And now poor Simple Simon bids you all “Adieu”

I seem to remember a ”Simple Simon” weathervane whirly gig. The pieman’s tray would move, Simon’s finger or arm moved, and the dog’s tail wagged up and down. I’m not sure if this was on the Greenbush HJs. I also remember a Lamplighter weathervane on a HJs somewhere.

Most of the time I would sit on one of the red stools at the soda fountain and order a frankfurt, now known as a hot dog — plus an orangeade. My Mom and Dad would sit in a booth; they always ordered fried clams, french fries, and tea or coffee.

The frankfurts were sliced across on two sides, and fried on two sides. The bun was also fried on both sides (now called grilled). This was put in a cardboard container with “Simple Simon and The Pieman,” with his dog printed on both sides. Two straws came in a cardboard container for the soda.

I would always beg a few french fries, then look over the Howard Johnson toy trucks on the shelf that were for sale and way beyond my parents’ budget. I would save the paper place-mats from the table. During the war, the mats had a fighter plane, a tank and a war ship printed on them. Also there was a mat with the 28 flavors of ice cream with a bumble bee flying with a spoon. I often wonder what ever happened to all that stuff?

When I was lucky, I could have a ten cent ice cream. Most of the time it would be a chocolate one, sometimes coffee. All of that would cost my Dad about $1.70.

We would visit other Howard Johnson’s in Scituate, Hingham, Wollaston Beach & Wollaston. There are only three Howard Johnson restaurants left.

Howard Johnsons, Hatherly Rd. Scituate.

The O’Brien family owned the ”Greenbush” Howard Johnson’s for more than 80 years.

Geoffrey O’Brien’s father, Philip James (aka PJ’s), bought the restaurant from his father Edward when the restaurant was a Howard Johnson’s

It started out as Dutchland Farms in 1935 when 3A was the only major road from Boston to Cape Cod.

DUTCHLAND FARMS

C.1935

When Dutchland Farms went out of business O’Briens joined Howard Johnson’s complete with the orange roof

In 1963, the O’Brien’s opened the Tack Room, now the main dining area, and offered a more diversified menu than the standard Howard Johnson’s offering lunch and dinner six days a week.

After seeing the handwriting on the wall with the opening of the new highway, the O’Brien’s reached an agreement with HJ’s and opened PJ’s Country House.

PJ’s, reasearch, Compliments of Rob Mitchell. 8/2019.

PJ’s, Greenbush, Ma.

Hook & Harvest 2019

Photo by Fred Freitas.

Good bye to Howard Johnson’s, aka, HJ’s. & Ho Jo’s.

I am looking for an early 1930’s 40’s photo of Howard Johnsons, Greenbush.

By, W. Ray Freden, Marshfield/ Seaview, 70 years.

March 14, 2011April 11, 2019

Apple Cider Time

In the fall, when apples were a-plenty, my Dad and I would gather all kinds from around the neighborhood. We used bushel baskets to gather up the apples. I would fill ‘em, and Dad would carry them to the old truck ’til the bed was full.

Back home, stems and leaves were removed, rotten ones discarded, then washed down. Now, out came the apple press and crusher. We washed it down with water and bleach. It was set up in the garage and fastened down. A blue and white enamel pot was fitted with a topping of cheesecloth and slid under the press. The baskets were set atop each other beside the press.

Dad would crank the handle, I would stand on a wooden box and toss in the apples. Ground-up apples spewed out into a slatted barrel-like cage that contained the mash. When the cage was full, it would be topped with a wooden head. A screw was turned to press the mash. After a few turns, out of the tray would come a clear golden juice.

Then, back off the screw, clean out the cage and do it again and again until the apples were gone. I would have a drinking glass close by, to hold under the stream until full. Oh, how good that was.

Next step was to bottle this golden juice. Dad had a dipper that he dipped in the pot, then he poured the juice into a cheesecloth-covered funnel that was stuck into glass gallon jugs that we had scavenged from the dump. These jugs had been washed, scalded, and bleached days before — that was my job. Mom would bring scalded corks out to us, steaming, and in they would go. That would take all of a Saturday.

Sunday morning, Dad would haul a six-foot table from the cellar and drag it to the side of Summer Street. The table was made from an old Singer sewing machine base and a shed door. Then out came a green ice cream chair with a splintery wood seat. This was my stand!

We filled the table with gallons and half gallons of fresh apple juice. A sign went up, “Fresh Apple Juice.” A gallon was 50 cents, plus a five cent jug deposit. Half gallon was 35 cents plus deposit.

One day I sold ten gallons. Wow, $5! I got 10% — 50 cents. That would buy 10 candy bars or 10 Cokes or even a movie trip!

There was a customer that refused to pay the deposit and didn’t return the jugs they had promised to. They never got another jug of juice either.

How sweet it was — for about 3 or 4 days. It got tangy in about week or so. It was a good thing for corks. We would often find them popped out onto the porch floor as the juice fermented.

Dad would fill a small wood cask with apple juice and leave it in the cellar for about a year, we then had apple cider vinegar. I am now using a vinegar I made in 1975. Up-date— GONE !

Dad’s old vinegar keg. c. 1939 – 1975.

Some 30 years later– My kids & friends using the same equipment as my Dad & I.

W. Ray Freden, 70 years, Marshfield & Seaview.