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.

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”

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.