In 1918, at the
age of 3 months, my Dad, Mom, Peg, Rose & Jim and me,
Marie, moved into the house at 2864 E. Gaul St. Then
in 192X, we moved into the house at 2402 E. Clearfield
St. It was a row house, with a porch front, next to
a bakery. At that time my Dad was working at Gill's
as a Glass Blower. His job was making the glass
shade for the street lights, powered by gas.
Electricity was
not in homes yet. At dusk every evening a man came
with a pole, turned up the jet for light. He would
be back in the morning to turn it back down. The
homes had a gas meter in the basement. About twice a
day you had to insert a quarter for service. Once a
month, a man from the Gas Co. collected the quarters.
This went on for
awhile with a new baby every two years -- Mildred, Jean, Betty, Marita, Marian. I
think about 3 years later, the porch came off and a large
front window was put in the living room. That was
the start of several businesses. The
first was an Oyster House. In the back kitchen,
he built a table the length of the room, and about 3 feet
wide. He had a man, who worked in the basement,
opening the oysters and clams. They brought them up
in large porcelain tubs and Dad breaded them on the table,
before he left for work at Gill's.
There wasn't many
customers during the day, and Dad was back from Gill's by
3:30 to 4:00. Rose was the waitress. She must
have been 14 then. Peg, 16, was working at the
Hosiery Mill. Jim, 12, and I, 10, were put at a
card table in the dining room, making the boxes.
They came flat, we had to fold them, put in 6 oyster
crackers and a 1/4 slice of pickle, take the boxes to Mom
in the kitchen, where she was frying the sea-food.
It was about this
time, Mother and Daddy were in the kitchen, when Grandpop
(Jeremiah) came in with his lunch kettle, and
said: "Patsy, can I stay here?" Without
thinking a second, Daddy said "Sure, Pop". (Move
over Jim!) The girls were sleeping 4 in twin
cot beds - 2 up top and 2 down bottom.
It was about this
time, Daddy opened another Oyster House, on Clearfield and
Frankford Ave. I think Aunt Rose and her
husband, Bill Huff, were going to work there.
As I remember, Jim and Daddy carried the cooked food to
the store. That didn't last long.
Dad's Mom
(Grandmom Margaret), lived on Gaul St., 3100 block.
Mother always told us, "coming from school, stop in to see
your grandmother". I stopped often. I
loved my Grandmother. She was a big woman. And
I loved her house. She had a player piano in
the living room. She allowed us to play roller music
all the time.
I was there one
time, and I saw her coming home, through the back
alley. Sort of clutching the fence (houses in a
row had an alley in the rear). When she came in the
kitchen and sat on a chair, she took off her high
buttoned black shoe and stocking. Her big toe had
fallen off (she had diabetes). The toe was
black. I remember, after that, she was very ill.
She was in a bed,
in a small bedroom. Daddy was there to take care of
her every night. I think Aunt Mary and Uncle Frank
(Gail) lived with her. Aunt Mary was working.
Aunt Betty (Nichter) had 2 boys, Jimmy
and Billy. She gave the boys to Aunt Mary
to raise.
When Grandmom
died, she was laid out in her living room. She had
fresh roses from her waist down to her feet. The
odor was so bad, every hour the undertaker asked everyone
to clear the room, and he changed the flowers. That
was in 1925.
I was in line
with my classmates, waiting to go in Church (Nativity) to
practice for my First Communion, age 7. Daddy was
helping Mother to get in the limo. I was
crying. The Nun came down the line to ask me
"what was wrong?". I said, "that's my Grandmother
being buried". She said, "get over there". I
ran over to Daddy, and he put me in with Mother.
Aunt Mary never
had her own children. Aunt Betty (Nichter) gave Jim
& Bill to Aunt Mary. Aunt Mary was
really good to Jim and Bill.
Aunt Marguerete
and Uncle Harry (Hart) also didn't have children.
Aunt Alice and Uncle Joe (Carr) had 4 children. One
died (Joe) a year old. They gave their daughter,
Alice, to Aunt Margaret. Mary and Edward they kept.
Uncle Bill was
married to Emma McClatchey. I don't know what
happened there, but that marriage was annulled.
Uncle Bill died at age 35. He was really good
looking and dashing.
Dad had
another brother, Jim. Mother and Daddy (were
not married at the time - 1909) and Uncle Jim were on
a picnic on Labor Day. Uncle Jim fell in the stone
quarry and was killed.
While Grandpop
was living with us, he was still working. He was a
watchman on Pier 8 on the Phila. side of the Delaware
River. He fell
through the ice. He kept swimming
around hunting for the hole in the ice he fell
through. He told us, he kept coming up to get
air. On the Jersey side he was able to break thru
the ice.
In the morning,
while we kids were having our breakfast, Grandpop would
fix his lunch. He had a pint whiskey
bottle. He would break a half-dozen raw eggs into
the bottle and fill it to the top with milk. (The
story later). Years later, he had a mysterious death
and had to be autopsied. The doctor asked my Dad
"what did he eat?". My Dad told him about the 1/2
dozen eggs every day. The doctor said the lining in
his stomach was such a thick calcium, you could not cut it
with a knife.
His (Grandpop's)
pay day was every other week. My Mother lived in
fear. The ships that pulled into the dock were
always loaded with animals, birds, etc. He came home
often with parrots for Rose. If he bought geese, he
would put a string or rope around their neck, and he made
them walk home. He stopped at every taproom from
Richmond Street to Cedar Street. He would tie the
geese or birds to any pole outside. A good 5 mile
walk. We kids would be on the top step, watching
down Clearfield St. When he came in sight, we called
Mother - "what's he got this time?". After all his
stops, he would be in such a good mood, smiling ear to
ear. My poor Mother! The animals, whatever
they were, put in the back yard. It would be up to
my Mother to pluck, skin and kill.
I have to admit,
I never saw my Grandfather in a bad mood. He was a
happy go lucky drunk! My parents put up with this
for a few years. When he retired and was getting a
good pension, Aunt Marguerete came and said "Pop, I'm
taking you home with me". He never offered my
parents board, but Aunt Marguerete took his pension.
They lived at Anchor Street & Summerdale Ave.
Grandpop use to walk. A few blocks above
Summerdale, there was a City Dump. He would sit on a
basket, and looking down in the dump, watch the rats
searching for food. When he didn't come home that
night at dinner time, they went searching for him.
They thought he must have suffered a heart attack and fell
off his basket. He must not have been there too
long. He wasn't eaten too bad, so the police said.
After they closed
the Oyster House, they opened a Hosiery Store. Rose
was the main saleslady. When Peg graduated from
eight grade at Nativity, she went to Commercial. At
age 16, she got her job at the Hosiery Mill. Rose
didn't want to go to the Commercial School. She went
to a Trade School. She was going to a dance
class. She was so good. I remember her toe
dancing. When her teacher wanted her to go to New
York, my Dad took her out of Dance. She went to
class for dress making and millinary.
Then Dad opened
the Pool House. After electricity (which replaced
the gas lights), his job at Gills ended. There was a
bunch of young men, after work they gathered on the
corner. They loved the Pool Room. My brother,
Jim, was the Rack Boy. After my Mother put us kids
to bed and my Dad closed the Pool Room, the guys didn't
want to call it a night. I don't know how it got
started, but my mother put on the coffee pot, and the guys
all chipped in and went next door to the Bakery for
buns. My parents liked to hear the guys talk about
their jobs. They all sat around the table with their
coffee and buns. There was so much fun, laughing at
jokes. When, all of a sudden, there was banging on
the door. When my Dad opened the door, a half dozen
police entered, guns drawn, running around the table,
smelling the cups, tasting, looking into the kitchen
cabinets, and asking "where is the liquor?". They
wouldn't believe, all that fun and laughing on coffee!
Trying to
remember the names of the guys: Jerry Duffy, Jim
& Patrick Stanley, Tom Mullen, once in a
while: Joe Cahill (Gert's brother). Not always
the same guys - they were good looking, and dated -
but always at least half a dozen.
Joe Cahill was
our Santa Claus. At Christmas, all nine of us had a
large gift under the tree.
Mother had a
cousin, Aunt Nell, and her husband Frank (Cassidy), and
about 5 kids. They lived in Chester, they
visited often. They all slept on the pool table.
One of the guys,
Tom Mullen, and his family, lived on Cedar St. When
Tom's mother died, his sister, Hannah, took over.
Soon after, they moved to a farm in Franklinville,
N.J. with the father and a sister, Rebecca. My
Mother and Hannah remained good friends. We were
invited often. Mother ordered a very large
roast of beef (the Mullins loved that). I
remember the first time we went there, Hannah handed
me a big basket. She said "you are in charge of the salad".
I felt she opened the gate to heaven.... walking up
and down the rows, picking the biggest peppers, tomatoes,
etc.! When we were ready to go home, both
her father and Hannah gave each of us bags. I
think they had so many fruit trees, they encouraged us to
"take all that we want".