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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.

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Roadside Stands

There were many roadside stands throughout Marshfield, and Seaview had its share. Most were vegetable or strawberry stands.

Before World War II, there was a stand on Summer Street across from the north end of Station Street. It was owned by Ollie & Anna Nourse. In the spring, many kinds of flowers were for sale, followed by early cherries and peaches. Then vegetables of all kinds. All grown on their property. You also could get a dozen eggs.

If that stand existed today, you would be taking your life in your hands stopping there! There was no off-street parking on their side, however you could park in a small space on the north end of the Seaview Garage and walk across Summer Street.

Further up Summer Street, about as far as Seaview extended, was Bob & Agnes Dow’s stand. This was mostly a vegetable stand. Agnes did make some baked goods.

The most unforgettable stand was Agnes & Bill Bonney’s, at the south end of Station Street at Summer Street. It was a 2×4 structure with lift-up front and sides. From the earliest flower to the latest, bunches would adorn the shelves as well as around the stand. Most were 15 cents; glads were 25 cents. The Bonneys had the most beautiful arrangements.

Glads were one of Mrs. Bonney’s favorites.

However flowers were not the big draw. It was Mrs. Bonney’s baking. She filled the shelves with pies, cakes, cookies, and other sorts of pastries. Cakes were her best seller, specially decorated for any occasion. Mrs. Bonney would put a little extra decoration on a cake for her favorite customers — the ones known to leave a tip.

On a Friday or Saturday afternoon during the summer, there was hardly a spot to park. Locals were arriving home after work, and summer people for the weekend. They would want her wonderful goods, rather than bake or cook. Mrs. Bonney’s cooking was probably better than theirs anyway. On a Saturday, the pastries were gone by 1 p.m. Late Saturday afternoon, a line would form at the side porch door awaiting the baked beans, frankfurts and brown bread, along with any pastry left. Mrs. Bonney would have a new batch of goods for Sunday morning.

Notice the cuts in the frankfurt, the old fashion way.

Summer Street was once the main route to Humarock from the Boston area, however those that came in from Route 3 would also find Bonney’s wonderful goods.

We would never visit with Mrs. Bonney during her busy summer months, but an off-season visit was a treat. Brownies and a glass of milk were always on my priority list. Most families in the neighborhood were as poor as church mice, but were always generous with a cup of tea or coffee, and a home cooked treat.

W. Ray Freden, Marshfield, 70 years.

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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.