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.

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”