Nicky G.:
I don't know how many were poor in the old day, but did anybody
live in a cold water flat? We would take a bath on Saturday because
that was the only day my mother would heat up the water. The rest
of the time we would go to the public baths. Mine was on Morris
Ave. I'm only talking about the poor people now. By the way it cost
5 cents.
Jule Spohn:
Hello Nicky. I lived in a cold-water flat on South 12th Street.
We had the kerosene heater attached to the kitchen stove, and another
heater in the living room. Every day before I left for school I
had to go to the basement and bring up 5 gallons of kerosene and
fill the one in the kitchen. That kept the back of the house warm
until my father came home and would then fill up the one in the
living room. We had a heavy curtain which separated the rooms in
the back of the apt - kitchen and bedrooms, from those in the front
of the apt - dining room and living room. Also, in the kitchen we
had a huge silver water heater. We had to light the flame every
time someone wanted to take a bath - no shower in those days - or
wanted to do the dishes. You had to keep feeling from the top down
to see how much of the water was getting hot. God forbid if you
forgot about it - KA BOOOOOM!!!
About being poor. We always had plenty of food - my father drove
for Acme and he and his brothers, who drove for A&P, always
"swapped" different meat and veggie's. However there wasn't
always a lot of extra money around. When I graduated from St. James
High in 1960 I did not receive my diploma - I received the empty
holder instead - because my parents owed $125 for my tuition. Several
years later when I was in the Marine Corps and stationed in Korea
I sent the school the $125 and received a nice letter in return
from the nuns stating that I was a "very nice boy" for
paying my tuition. Those were the day.
Quint:
Nicky, We had the same living conditions as Jule. Kerosene stoves
for the living room, water heater in the kitchen, black coal stove
to cook on before we could afford a gas range. My mom bathed us
once a week whether we needed it or not and because we were small
kids, my two sisters would bathe at the same time and then I would
be bathed in the same water because it was still warm and we tried
to use as little gas as possible with the water heater....anyway,
my sisters didn't get very dirty in those days...my mom was German
and everything had to be spic and span all the time...she would
have made a great marine drill instructor. We had an ice box and
bought ice from the ice man for 15 cents or so. The ice lasted a
couple of days. When we got holes in our shoes my mom would line
the inside of our shoe with cardboard to cover the hole until she
saved enough money from her tight budget to buy a new pair for us.
We never considered ourselves poor. I remember vividly that during
the mid thirties, near the beginning of the end of the depression,
unemployed men would sing songs in the court yard of our tenement
house, using a megaphone in hope that someone would reward them
with a coin or two or some food. My mom always found something to
give the poor guys. Even though things were a bit tight for us,
my mom always managed to extend a helping hand.
CAROL O'BEIRNE CARMAN:
We lived in a cold water flat also, railroad rooms, stove in the
kitchen, bathroom on the back porch. We also always had food as
my Dad drove for A&P and Friday night was "cake" night.
Jule Spohn:
Hello Nicky, Quint, and all. Forgot abut the iceman. Our iceman's
name was Danny and he had a horse and wagon. Like Quint said, he
would come every several days. My job after school was to empty
the pan under the icebox. The icebox was out in the hall and I had
to try to walk through our living room into the kitchen without
spilling a drop. Most of the time I managed it.
Holes in the shoes. I don't remember how many times during my childhood
my mother or I would have to cut up the cardboard that the shirts
came back from the cleaners in, or from cereal box tops, to put
in my shoes. I can still remember how it felt on the soles of my
feet as the cardboard started to wear out.
It's funny how you forget about these things as you get older but
they were such a part of your life as a child.
When I was working on Wall Street, and still drinking, many times
I would order a bottle or two of Dom Perrigone, or some other expensive
champagne or wine, which cost over $100 a bottle in those days,
70's and 80's, and think back to my childhood when my father never
made more than $100 a week. After taxes he came home with $75. He
kept $15 and gave my mother $60. Out of his $15 he put gas in the
car, bought his glasses of beer at the bar for .10 or .15 cents,
and his cigars. With the $60 my mother took care of the house, food,
clothing, etc. Amazing how they did it.
Marytee:
Poor!!!! Yup-there were many of us too. We had the ice man but this
would be a luxury. No electricity-no food-ketchup sandwiches were
like a steak and so were mayo sand. A cucumber sandwich was better
yet! Many days I remember the refrigerator door sitting on the counter-no
food -no electricity. Rubber bands around the top of my socks to
hold them up and the holes in the toes were mashed at the tip of
my shoe. YET, there were many worse off.
Charles McGrath:
Remember the old saying:
"Money doesn't bring you happiness"
I remember an old guy's answer to that.
He said:
I have been rich and I have been poor.
Believe me it's no fun being poor.
Jule Spohn:
Hello Mary Tee and all. You just reminded me of something else.
My Aunt Mary was a seamstress and worked in various laundries sewing
up the holes in table cloths, sheets, etc. When either mine, or
my father's shirt collars or sleeves became too ragged she would
take them to work with her and "turn" the collar and sleeve
and bring it back like new - although the collar or sleeve always
seemed to be a little more bright in color than the rest of the
shirt. Haven't thought about that in over 50 years.
Also, speaking about Aunt Mary, sometime in the late 40's or early
50's I broke my leg, had a cast on it, and walked with crutches.
Was living on South Orange Ave and 12th Street. Aunt Mary would
take me for a walk up to Fairmount cemetery and there she would
go over to where they had the piles of old, dead flowers, that were
taken off of the graves, and take the ribbons off of them and then
use to ribbons to make different things out of. I was always embarrassed
by her also, but on second thought, they were only going out in
the garbage anyway.
Jule Spohn:
Speaking about being poor. I remember my mother telling me about
how it was when she was growing up in the early 1900's. She said
her family was so poor that her mother used to wash and iron the
toilet paper. Somehow I always thought that there was a "wee
bit of Blarney" in that story though.
Quint:
To All!
I now realize that our mom's were the original recyclers!
Nicky G:
Hi all everybody told me about the oil & coal. But Nobody said
where they took a bath can't be in tub all the time.
Jule Spohn:
Hello Nicky. I remember many times visiting my Aunt Anna Balcome
who lived at 161 William Street - around the corner from St. Benedict's/St.
Mary's Abby. She and Uncle Bill lived in a cold-water flat up until
she died there in around 1977 or so. I had to pay her last month's
rent which was $11.00. Her bathroom was a tiny little room off of
the kitchen with only a toilet - a toilet that had the water box
over your head and you had to pull a string to make it flush and
it went - SWOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!! real loud.
In her kitchen was a long, metal-like tub about 5 feet long which
had two tops which you then raised against the wall. That was her
tub. Against the other wall was one of those beautiful, old, black,
cast iron stoves, with about six round burner tops that you had
to use a spring-like metal holder to life them up with. By the time
I grew up this old-fashioned coal stove had been converted to gas
burners. Her regular stove was also antique with a shelf on top,
three burners, with square, oblong handles on it, and a brown/tan/color
door which you pulled down. It was built on four legs which were
about 8 to 10 inches above the ground. Haven't thought of this place
since Aunt Anna died.
When she died the landlord sent me a bill for $22 for the two months
rent when she was in the hospital.
The landlord's name was Michael Bauderman - he had a pretty old,
good reputation, plumbing business here in Newark.
Bob Jeffery:
Was born in a "walk down" cold water flat on High &
Central; then to Seth Boyden. Remember well the cardboard in ones
shoes and when it was wet the cardboard only lasted a short while
despite folding it over several times. YES, we have come a long
way but most of us earned it as our families had little to pass
on. JULE: Used to work part time as a mechanic and Frank McGovern,
Tommy Kane, and Bill Scully were "regular" customers.
Best to all!
Jule Spohn:
Hello Bob and all. "Walk Down" Never heard that term before.
Does it mean walking up and down a certain number of flights of
stairs, or what? That's at new one on me.
Bob, on the corner of High and Central, across the street from
St. Michael's is a little triangle of a park. On the other side
of Central is the very old Mueller Bro's Florist Supply Company.
On the north side of that triangle is a one story building, very
ornate roof line, which looks like it could have been a car sales
store, or a bath house, or something similar. Do you remember it
and if so, what was it? Next to it are two or three story apt houses
which go to the corner of High Street.
Yes, indeed, almost everyone of us has "earned" everything
we have today. And yet we owe a terrible debt of gratitude to our
parents and grandparents who struggled as hard as they did, with
all of their faults, to try to do the best for their family. I was
the first one in my family, either side, to ever go college. Put
myself through college and graduate school at nights after working
all day in National Newark and Essex Bank or with Merrill Lynch
on Wall Street. I was the first one in my family ever to go back
to Europe and visit the town where my great-grandparents came from
in Germany. Don't know exactly from where the Irish great-grandparents
came from but I think it is somewhere in the North Western part
of Ireland around the Sligo area. Still doing research on it. As
the song says, "We've come a long way baby."
Charles McGrath:
Jule Spohn:
Hello Bob and all. "Walk Down" Never heard that term before.
Does it mean walking up and down a certain number of flights of
stairs, or what? That's at new one on me.
Jule, That was an old phrase.
It was "Walk Up" not "Walk Down" .
It implied that the building lacked an elevator.
The former was remembered longer than the latter.
I had an aunt who lived on the third floor of the old Prudential
Apartments. We referred to it as a "walk up" and moaned
every time we climbed the three flights of stairs.
Jule Spohn:
Thanks Charles. I always heard them called "walk ups."
Heck, in Manhattan today there are still 5 or 6 story "walk
ups." I get tired just thinking of it.
Nicky G:
Jules, I think that was you who want to know about the little park.
We had a cab stand there. The only thing I remember there was gas
station. On the side of the park and across was, I think, was an
auto supply store. Jerry the fireman, he might remember.
As far as I know it's how much you had to drink. Then you didn't
know if you were going up or down. But I remember walk up.
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