Edition of December 2008
DEAN DAIRY
For me and I believe many others Dean Dairy was a first 'big time' exposure to an 'outside' world. My mother and father would load the three kids in the '29 Studebaker, or the '34 Pontiac convertible on a hot summer night and 'go for a ride to Dean Dairy', a special treat, five mile drive across town along narrow tree shaded streets.
I can remember our trips in our '37 Plymouth four door sedan. There were a lot of experiences for little brother to absorb. The car would leave his home neighborhood, go beyond the school his brother and sister attended, friends houses, the markets, all the playgrounds, even Trapelo Road with trolley tracks and real trolleys.
We three kids would be in the back of our black sedan and the first few times we went there our father would drive and get out, take our orders and get our cones. Later my aunt would drive and roles were changed. My brother and I got out and got the cones. My sister may already have stopped accompanying us. She never did like Dean Dairy. It was in smelly cow country, an all in one operation. Down a slope in back were cows to milk, in back of the 'store' was a processing plant, parked stepvans to deliver milk, a repair garage for the vans and a 'walk up to the window' ice cream store. My current residence in a cattle raising area, sometimes reminds me of Waltham's former 'country' section.
For me the parking lot was a chance to see 'hotrods', prewar Fords with fender skirts, maybe a fox tail, purple tail lights and a prized 'smitty muffler'. And see how many of the little brown delivery trucks were 'out of service' next to the cows behind the place.
In the late '30's the small parking lot would be spotted with mud puddles which caused chaotic parking so whomever 'went for the cones' wouldn't fill their Hood rubber sneakers with mud and water. If a summer shower broke, the chaos increased; car horns, irritation, close misses as big pre-war, not too nimble, autos maneuvered to exit while some sought spots closer to the 6 serving windows.
You could hear 'orders' being tallied, what flavor, sugar or waffle cone. It was a popular spot. What they were 'out of' caused many returns to cars. 'They're out of pistachio, what do you want?'
There were flies and sticky areas but it was cleaned up thoroughly each night. It was a very, very busy place on a hot summer night, often with long lines at the windows and some times we gave up trying to figure out how to squeeze into the lot.
My brother and I have 'rejuvenated' many memories of our visits. He did his usual wisecracking from the back seat about people we observed. He made up nicknames or 'colorful descriptions'. One time in high school we were sitting in one of John O'Reilly's father's auto dealership new Studebaker convertibles when something we said was overhead and not liked and we received cold glares. We couldn't 'sink down in our seats' as in sedans.
The whole family also occasionally went to Buttricks in Lexington but with the arrival of 'driving age' and some postwar cars, Dean Dairy trips status declined to suffer blase invitations, 'anyone want to take a ride to Dean Dairy?'
Waltham was an experience for us. An industrial town with huge factories. All these years some of those first sightings of 'another' world have recurred to me. It was more of a 'blue collar' town than Belmont.
The first improvement I recall was light gray crushed stone gravel in the parking lot, then finally hot top.
By the time I got my license, Dean Dairy was still on the places to cruise and hover. But the innocent atmosphere was gone. An increase in speculation, 'are those guys from Belmont? Watertown? Waltham?' I think 'the word' was not to stay till closing.
Gradually the
retirements
of old small brown
stepvans
to the back of the lot increased. Here was a business where we
seemed
to see everything but 'the books'.
APRIL 1942 WE MOVE TO THE WINN BROOK
I recall the consternation my brother, sister and I had about to where we would move. A prime motivation was our house on Edward Street needed a new roof and there was an existing mortgage. What could we afford?
My brother got on his bicycle and toured Belmont and discovered a new house on Alexander Ave with it's price, about $6000 on the for sale sign. A neighbor on Orchard Street, Mr. Walsh contacted the builder and along with my mother and aunt negotiated a price lower than 'asking'. The builder was Gott of Arlington and his sons had been drafted so he would not be working on another house on Channing Road where a cellar excavation had been dug. We were delighted, 'overjoyed' actually to be able to stay in Belmont and move closer to the center.
Our house at 117 was next to an old farmhouse occupied by the Logans which extended to what was then the end of Channing Rd. In fact the rear shed on that house abutted the street right of way when it was later put in. There were apple trees in it's front yard. Mr. Logan was a truck driver for Belmont and during snow storms would come home during the night to take a break from plowing.
We assumed the area had been a rhubarb farm (possibly 'Penny's') since several plants of that came up for several years in our backyard without being seeded by us. We planted two or three apple trees at the rear of our yard and a 'thorny' hedge along some of our property line. There was an empty lot for several years at the apex of Channing and Alexander. The Logans would have some neighborhood gatherings for 'roasting marshmellows' over an open fire type in the field next to their driveway.
Rose and
Arthur
McGlynn
lived on the first floor of that old
farm
house. He was a janitor for the Belmont Hill
School and maintained the
gardens of some property on Clifton Street.
So in
September
1942 I
started the fifth grade in the Winn Brook School. My teacher for the
first half was T. Mary Salo. Then Lillian I. Kales for January through
March, followed by Ms. Marion Ryder for March through June. I got
a couple of S's for satisfactory the rest H's. I guess my hand writing
caused the S's.
In
September 1943
for the
sixth grade teacher was again Ms. Marion Ryder. My grades went down a
bit,
having a couple more 'S's, the rest H's. For both years teacher's
comments were laudatory. My brother has a class
picture when we lined up our
desks
diagonally and close together for the photo for one of these
years. Checking my report card I see I was absent 27 days over
this school year and 23 days the previous school year. It must have
been colds or the flu since there was nothing I can recall causing
this. There are no 'tardy's' noted yet I recall falling off the
board we used to cross the Winn Brook one spring when it was rushing
fairly strongly. I know I got wet over my knees and went back home to
change. I would then have had to walk along Cross Street to the
school so maybe I stayed home, given I would have been over an hour
late.
Life in
the Winn
Brook
centered more on the adjacent town playground than at Kendall.
One 'rite of passage' I recall was that we were told by 'natives' that
we were obliged to an athletic contest with one of them. I know I chose
sprinting from the school to the Winn Brook and I know I won by a fair
margin. I think it was against Jack McDougall but I'm not sure. I
recall hearing that Brad Atwood chose boxing and bested 'the local'
which I think again was Jack McDougall so were were 'in'.
On Alexander Avenue in additon to the convenience of Belmont Center, buses and trains, my brother and I were handy to both the Winn Brook and Concord Avenue fields. My brother still tells tales about his wild pitching. He was so bad I would get behind the backstop to retrieve the balls so we could keep the game going.
We had practised in our backyard, me the catcher with a home plate, a catcher's glove, a mask and hockey shinguards. He was not bad in the yard giving me a swollen left hand despite a foam pad but on the mound at the field on Concord Avenue he would get animated and throw wild.
We played tackle on a lawn next to the Thomas' house on Farnham Street. I think there was some padding but I can only clearly recall the footballs some which were designated only for 'street use'. I know I was one 'in charge' of pumping them up.
We spent hours passing and handling those footballs. We would have made a good Pop Warner team. A dad in 'the lower swamp' did form a Pop Warner team with uniforms called 'The Suns' but he moved away and the project died. I think only the Thomas boys played high school football and that would be in Newton where they moved. Tommy Newell was a neighborhood leader but moved away. I have some vague impression his father was involved professionally in football coaching.
I was fast, possibly the fastest 'of the gang' and Paul Andrews challenged me to a footrace on Farnham Street. We marked a starting line about at Blackham's house and the finish line was I think a telephone pole in front of Winslows. I beat Paul by a good margin. Those light Hood Rubber sneakers were fast on pavement.
Another 'neighborhood gang' outing were our trips into Boston for Red Sox or Braves games. We would gather at the end of the bus line at the corner of Leonard and Alexander. One day I was the last coming up to the group waiting on a bus 'in the loop'. Tommy Newell set up a cry, "Don't let that kid on, Bob Feller always loses when he goes". It was true and a source for ribbing all the way to Fenway.
My brother must have held some foul ball records. They would give up and award him first base, the delay retrieving balls was too much. He claims he was the only one to break a window in the field house with a foul tip.
In those pickup games you could ask to play any position. When my brother would pitch, we'd waste so much time going after the ball in the weeds by the Winn Brook that whomever was doing lineup changes would say, "Ok Bob, I think we'll let Red (Tommy) Coleman pitch now." The Thomas brothers dad was usually there pitching batting practice and guiding our self organizing. Skippy always led one team and players were selected on the "I'll take Tommy", then the other side would "take Freddie", etc.
 horsing
around on RR tracks . |
 |
The
September 2002
Belmont
Historical Society Newsletter
brought
back another RR track memory, that of the coal yard. I had forgotten
it's
name in 'my era', Metropolitan Coal Co. but not the image of the RR
spur/trestle
that went into the yard, the huge building for storing coal where it
could
be downloaded in chutes to coal trucks for local delivery, the chain
link
fence along Concord Ave, the 'business office' and I thought at one
time
some lumber was stored at the east end of the open yard.
Larry
Maletta
remembers this
coal yard. "Robert Cox (came from MT. Trinity Academy and
quit school in his Junior year to join the Army) and I would get
old
cardboard boxes and slide down the long coal chute into a pile of snow.
It didn't last long, I think it was one of the Evan Twins broke
an arm. We called it a day." I recall seeing guys do this
but at the time didn't know who they were.
We
watched
from
the RR tracks the huge fire which consumed the main building. The
yard remained 'out of operation' for some time. The only memory I have
is that some local young guy used to keep a stock car there which he
ran
at the Everett paved oval. Belmont was sleepy enough on a sunday
afternoon
in those early postwar years that he could take a quick run on Concord
Ave in the car, wide open exhaust before loading to take to the
race.
Belmont
Historical
Society
Newsletter of September 2005 rejuvenated some more RR memories. Roy
Scammell wrote; "that was one of our childhood playgrounds,
hopping slow moving freight trains in Waltham and
riding them to Waverley. Putting bottle caps on the tracks
to get
them flattened, and climb all over the empty cars left at the
siding
across from Ross dairy and next to Thayer Street. My oldest
brother took many pictures of the depot destruction and the lowering of
the tracks to eliminate the grade crossing. I'd go along with him
on
his paper route and we would climb onto a coal car in Waltham and
toss off coal. Later we'd walk back and pick it up and
carry it home
in his newspaper bag. It burned great in our wood burning
stove in
the kitchen and saved many foray's out for burnable wood.
Amazing, but my
entire life until I went into the Navy was gathering wood for
that stove. Nothing like walking home from the Concord Ave.
playground
in the winter and having to go back out for fire wood."
My
brother
and I would take burlap bags, where we got them I don't
recall, during WW2 and walk along the tracks between Alexander
Ave and the coal yard and pick up pieces or what I think was black
anthracite coal and add that to our small living room fireplace, Due to
having installed heavy curtains shutting offf the dining room it was
our
warmest room. This was done simply to save fuel oil which
supplied our burner which generated steam heat to radiators, the ones
upstairs often 'squealing' as they heated up.
In response to some articles on school vandalism a former Butler
student wrote; In the Butler school, we could enter the school anytime
we wanted to, year round. There are flights of external stairs on
both side of the building that lead down to the auditorium and one of
those entry doors was always unlocked. On hot
summer days we would go in to the basements to cool off. At
night, after walking home from the movies, we would go down the steps
on the Sycamore St. side which were hidden behind shrubbery. Once
inside, we had a perfect place for making out with our dates. The
best part was that it was a little scary which got our adrenaline
pumping. Sometimes we would hear a door slam someplace, probably other
kids, and we would run out like the devil was on our tail, but we were
never caught, nor did we ever do any damage, that wasn't part of our
mind set. I can't recall any damage ever being inflicted on that
school, even though many kids had interior access."
In baseball I had to play short or third base because further out my lack of depth perception had me catching 'the wrong ball'. I could hit murderous line drives or strike out, nothing else. My brother could bunt like the world's worst tease. Often Skippy Vigliorolo or Jack Thomas were the pitchers. I think it was in CYO tryouts at the Concord Avenue diamond Skippy gave me a high fast ball which I had learned at Winn Brook to hit through the shortstop.
The picture of the greenhouses at Sherman and Brighton Street on Page 91of 'Footsteps Through Belmont' reminded me of the occasional foul tip which might hit the glass. The diamonds were faced away from the greenhouse except for the one backing to Cross Street.
No matter how we got on base we were dangerous since both of us were fast, took big lead offs, had practised stealing bases for hours in our backyard and knew the pitchers base watching abilities. However with Skippy or Jack Thomas we 'toed' the bag and waited for a hit. We had two bases in our back yard and Rick Thompson used to play with us. We had hook slides, etc down pat. Of course we tore large bare spots in our lawn and got mighty dirty but our mother and aunt didn't complain since we were 'busy'. One skill we learned was hard straight line throws to 'pick off' base runners. I can recall shocking some runners with such throws from third base on the Concord Avenue Field. Some of my brother's throws from the outfield were 'right on' but I can recall the first baseman, I think it was Ambie Redmond waving his glove at some far off wild throws which may have hit the field house..
An all time famous remark was made to my brother by Pokey Hanson, 'Hey Big Nix, what's this 'whoops' business?" That occurred on Little Spy but could have on the ball field also.
Claire Ducey of Farnham Street played baseball with 'the boys' and I recall my brother's chagrin, admitting, she had a better arm than he. I think she played 'pickup' with us but at this moment the only 'images' I can recall were 'baseball' with a tennis ball on the street.
For years after, post high school we 'shagged fly balls' on the Concord Avenue field as well as one off Mass Ave west of Arlington Center. Frank O'Hara and John Bok were with us then. We even had two 'fungo' bats. Even with glasses I had depth perception problems so my job was hitting fly balls.
I'm not sure when my brother and I were Boy Scouts, Troop 165 at the Burbank School. I wonder if it was affiliated with the CYO. I recall the Scout guide, studying to be a ' tenderfoot' and some 'drill' or formation on the Burbank playground. At the first feasible excuse we both quit. I don't recall what our excuse was but the long trek from Alexander Avenue was one.
There wasn't much we didn't at least 'give a good try'. Someone came up with the idea of 'bicycle polo' on the high school football field with croquet mallets. I can recall Tommy Newell, probably Bert Vail and the general scene but I can't recall at what time of year we came up with this 'fill in' sport. Naturally it rained and although we had even more fun slippin' an' slidin', tearing up the field, knocking out spokes, crashing frequently, 'word' came down, 'not an appropriate use of the field'. We wore some padding, hockey gloves, shin guards but no helmets.
In '42-'43 before Channing Road in back of our house was graded properly, a corner of the back yard flooded and we had a decent sheet of black ice on which to play hockey, usually without skates. After the dirt road got fixed, we dug the edges of a large square and would flood it with garden hoses. It wouldn't hold water well so became our 'victory garden'. There was water in the house excavation on Channing Road but I think by the time, if ever, it froze properly for skating we were on Little or Big Spy ponds.
That area was full of 'wandering areas' for young boys. Picking over the town dump, mainly for wheels for 'buggies' was one activity, or collecting bottles to cash in in Belmont center. The choice wheels were often on discarded baby carriages. The extension of Alexander Avenue over the RR tracks had been blocked by vertical RR ties. I used to walk over there on nice days, asking myself, 'what used to be here?'. There were some 1930 era car body parts along the RR bed from when cars had been hit causing the crossing to be closed. The railroad bed and road beside the vertical RR ties was soft with a steep dropoff so no one could attempt to drive around the blockade. The Scarfo's house was at the apex of Alexander and the RR bed.
On
the
other side the
remains of a narrow paved road stretched
almost
alongside the outside of the Concord Avenue Field fence to the tennis
courts.
There was a nice line of trees along there, maybe poplar. The tall
grass
between the trees and the Clay Pit Pond was a 'no man's land', almost
swampy,
treacherous to trudge through. We were very wary of going close to the
edge of the Clay Pit. There were some white 'lifeguard' ladders mounted
on some posts on the Concord Avenue side. I never skated on it since by
the time it might have been safe Little Spy would be well frozen. The
outlet
of the brook also was a good place to 'stay away from'.
I
set
up a work area in
the cellar to work on model
airplanes.
I started with solid kits of the P40 and I think the Grumman Hellcat.
Looking
at a P40 history site recently I recalled the marine green paint I put
on the P40. I hung those from some cellar pipes and 'move on up' to
laying
out balsa 'flying' planes with 'fabric' coverings of tissue paper to
which
one applied some liquid which stretched, hardened and dried it over the
frame. Some of the models had rubber band driven working propellers but
I never risked damaging them more than 'flying' a few feet in the
backyard.
George Winkler on Farnham street was a master model plane builder and
let
me watch and look around in his cellar workshop. He gave me one of his
balsa and fabric models which I used as a 'high standard'
example.
I used to help or watch him fly his gas engine planes in the field at
the
end of Channing and Alexander. I recall one time he had a much wider
wing
span larger gas engine take off from the ice on Big Spy and fly back
over
Belmont, not returning to the ice as it planned or hoped for.
Larry
Maletta recalls: "I think we all made balsa airplanes. I tried
once to make one look like a P-38. I had two propellers so it
was a two man job to wind up each propeller the same number
of turns. It only flew twice before it broke."
A summer pastime in those days were our badminton tournaments in the back yard where my brother, by changing the rules as he went became both left and right hand champion and we ragged him for days for 'the final tournament'. It was no surprise he spent so many years playing or more appropriately, 'firing away' at tennis. I got the impression he used the word 'love' so capriciously that no one was to knew the rules. Tennis never 'caught on' with me even though in California we must have had a dozen courts within a five minute walk and we did play. All I can recall is it was bad for 'hockey knees'.
I don't know whether those who have never moved from the northeast realize how potent are their fall full moons. We get some here in southwest Missouri. No wind, cars go by to local high school football games, exactly as in Mass when we were 'growing up'. The football fall exhilaration also reaches an awe inspiring level in Georgia and Alabama or at least it did in 1953 when I was 'out touring' that area from Fort Gordon in my '38 Ford sedan.
I can recall playing 'summer baseball between the playgrounds' league in probably '42-44 era. I think our best games were at the Town Field adjacent to the Kendall playground. From the Winn Brook we rode, often two on a bike. I can recall clearly pedaling along with Jack McDougall and the Regan twins. Sometimes we played on 'the big diamond' which seemed to have 'Niland' engraved on the pitching mound. I know we pedaled to the Grove Street playground and probably the others but my recall on those is not as clear. Often the other team did not show or lacked enough players.
Many of us were required to 'go home by 4:30 or 5 pm or some designated time 'to put on the beans' or some other supper preparation. If we were quick we could get back 'into the game'. At one point and I don't recall when, 'Birdseye' frozen foods appeared in the First National in Belmont Center. I read on a history site that they were developed or 'invented' by Clarence Birdseye of Springfield Massachusetts and the earlier 'trial marketing' was done in eastern Massachusetts. I recall that our first 'kitchen task' relief via frozen packages was lima beans, one of the foods noted on the refrigerator door to put on by such and such time.
I've been gone from Belmont sparing a few quick visits since the early '60's so 'the Olive block' is still there in my imagination. You might say 'it was Belmont' to many of us. The tudor architecture drew a bit of awesome respect from the visitor while offering a feeling of 'ingroup' welcome. Olives was 'the drugstore', clean, marble soda fountain counter, newspapers on a 'sill' by the front window, which incidentally offered a good view of 'passersby'.
Two memorable occasions in that drug store have remained in my 'memory drum'. During WW2 many British servicemen were hosted on weekends by Belmont families. Olive's was their rendezvous point and more than once when I was in there, probably for a newspaper, some English soldiers joked about language and other 'anglo-american' differences.
The other was that it was the 'mixer' for we Miss Hall's dancing school attendees in the 'South Hall' directly over the store. I need some help on who else attended. I know Betty Ahlquist, Brad Atwood and Shirley Ward did. I know we were obliged to wear white gloves and behave 'like gentlemen'. I have some vague notions of other attendees and hope 'time' or some communication from others will clarify them. At any rate 'buying a girl' a coke or 'walking her home' were 'dates', probably 'the first' for all of us.
Ellie DePalma McCarthy
remembered
as follows;
"Ah yes, Miss Hall's
Dancing
School...memories
of my "wallflower days" came back to haunt me. I was new to
Belmont
at the time and didn't know many people I do recall going and the
ugly taffeta dresses. As I look back it didn't hurt us to learn "social
graces" which would certainly come in handy later in life. I
always
regretted that my children did not have the opportunity to experience
something
like that, although I did try to instill "proper social behavior". (we
likewise in Anaheim California).
Barbara Dow Elwell remembers;
"1944-1945 would have been seventh and eighth grades which was probably about right. I remember the huge room (hall) we danced in. It was very dark. I think I remember dark woodwork and wainscoting. We waited outside in the "cloak room"? then paraded in. We were taught all sorts of protocol - boys how to bow and girls how to curtsey. Good grief!! I remember no-one but Betty Alquist and Gordon Gilson. Both were very well dressed. Betty had a blue taffeta skirt. Gordon had a light gray suit. The boys must have had to have suits? I don't remember anyone else. (not even the author, oh my!)"
Barbara did mention her
guess about
another girl; "Helen Jane LaRoux? lived by Spy Pond, had a
live-in maid, went to private school, maybe Dana Hall."
Larry Maletta emailed me in 2006 his tales of working for Belmont Pharmacy Inc., 697 Belmont Street, corner of Vincent and Belmont St, Belmont side from 1946 to 1950. He worked the 4 to 9:30 pm shift till December '50 when he joined the USAF. From summer 1950 he also worked 'days' at Ark-Les Switch in Watertown and ran from there to get to the drugstore on time.
The owners of Palfrey Drugs on
the small
'Palfrey Square' at the corner of Trapelo Road and Harriet Avenue made
several entreaties to get Larry to work for them. Even calling his
father and using the 'paisano' appeal as well as twenty more
cents per hour. Charlie Altman and his brother in law
bought the Belmont Pharmacy in 1947 and sought Larry when
he came home from his USAF service. They wanted him to go pharmacy
school. Not having a crystal ball Larry declined. Later Altman
and his brother in law started a small company they called CVS.
Richard Green, BHS '71 who grew
up on
Lodge Road wrote in 2001, "My favorite store to walk to, long gone, was
Pleasant Pharmacy at the corner of Pleasant Street and Brighton Ave. It
had a soda fountain and that old-fashioned medical pharmacy smell, plus
a good selection of comic books and candy."
"Cross Street at the top of my road was still a farm when I was young.
Then divided into a crowded subdivision. The worst thing about that
subdivision, is that all the neighbors put up tall privacy fences,
further cutting up the formerly open farm space. Before it was
developed, my sister's best friend, Ginny Hughes, lived in an old
2-family house alongside the farm. She was probably around the class of
'61."
"Oliver Road, at the bottom of my street, ran along Little Spy Pond.
There was no public access there to the pond. But one resident didn't
mind us using their backyard to access the pond. There was a culvert
there,
connecting Little Spy to Big Spy, at which I once caught an ugly
catfish that scared the @#$$% out of me when I scooped it up with a
net. I heard that older kids would travel through the culvert in
canoes."
"Oh, another thing I loved
about Belmont
as a bicyclist (delayed interest in cars), was its closeness to varied
bike destinations. I used to enjoy riding my bike summer nights to
Harvard Square. Or up Pleasant Street to
Arlington Center, bang a left onto Mass Ave. and ride up to Lexington.
Speeding downhill from Arlington Heights water tower, etc.".
We both recalled our
grade school art teacher, Mr. Plummer. Richard wrote, "Mr. Plummer left
a strong impression on me. Toweringly tall enough to be so intimidating
to a small 2nd grader at Winn Brook, yet so gentle and kindly
encouraging."
Richard Betts on page 49 of 'Footsteps Through Belmont' has a picture of the 'famous' lemon tree in Pino's Barber Shop. I think it was the only barbershop I ever patronized until 'college days'. Mr. Busa was my 'favorite' partially because his son Bob played hockey with us. Larry Maletta emailed me that his dad, Lorenzo Maletta sold his Harvard Square barbershop in 1948 and became manager of Pino's Barber Shop.
My first bank account was in the Belmont Savings Bank. I saved nearly all I earned cutting lawns and made frequent deposits. I can recall pulling up, parking my bike in a rack, not locking it of course, depositing my cash and entering the 'income' later at home in a bound 'ledger' book. I now I saved $600 a couple of summers in the '40's.
From Alexander Avenue we found a 'derring do', icy foot path on a grade steeper than Clifton Street to which it was adjacent on the north side of a brook. One mistake and you ran into a tree or into a hillside spring feeding into the brook. Not many neighbor kids joined us on those 'trials'. Another 'luge training' site at which we were left alone, no one else nutty enough, was to sled down the path along the west side, abutting the Underwood estate and skid on the sheer ice behind the buildings of the Underwood pool. First there was a little pump house which you had to 'squeeze behind' at speed and then choose, hopefully, a trajectory to get you past the part of the pool building which extended beyond the main building wall. The surface was often fresh sheer ice from roof runoff. Once past the pool house you had to either slide sidways to a stop of run across the cement foot bridge over the brook. I had to rebuild some sleds which tore apart after I 'bailed out' and the sled hit a wall or tree. The sleds were early '30's model 'high rise' runner Flex Flyers. I replaced rivets and wooden slats to hold together their good steel runners and frames. I deburred the runners with a file and waxed them for better runs.
The only street on which the Winn Brook kids coasted that I can recall was Winn Street from Pleasant to Claflin. I believe Franny Regan would call us when that street was 'good for coasting'. I probably need to remind some readers that all this was in pre TV days so our imaginations and alertness created our amusement. If we ever went to the movies you might say we were 'interactive'. The wise cracks from the audience were always far funnier than 'the script' at the Uny in Harvard Square. My brother and I laughed so hard at the Laff Movie in Boston we were asked to leave but the usher also probably realized we had sat through two entire shows.
When you were 'new' in the Winn Brook you were challenged to compete with a 'local' on the playground. My brother and I easily outran our 'challengers' and Brad Atwood beat up someone in a fist fight. We were 'in'.
I still have my Winn Brook 5th and 6th grade report cards. They show:
- 1942-43, 5th grade. Sept through December, T. Mary Salo; Jan-March, Lillian S. Kales; March-June, Marion Ryder
- 1943-44, 6th grade, Marion Ryder all year
- Eva S. Burns, Principal
Miss Ryder lined the desks up diagonally one time for a class photo which I am hoping my brother will send to me.
Click here to go to my 'gallery' for a pic of the Winn Brook School , same pic as on a town of Belmont site.
me,
Dickie Bolles, Mike and Jean McCauley, May 1944, front lawn of 117
Alexander.
A summer time bike ride I
often
took alone was down Cross to Lake Street and down to Concord Turnpike
where
there was a stop light. A lasting memory is of the tall grass and
weeds along the stretch of Lake Street away from houses. At that
junction I would decide whether to ride along Lake Street into
Arlington
to Massachusetts Ave or along the shoulder of Route 2 to the circle at
the Alewife Brook Parkway.
In March 2005 I had the
pleasure of
reading my copy
of 'The Great Swamp of Arlington, Belmont and Cambridge" by
Sheila G. Cook which I acquired from her by sending her $15 to 34
Follen Street, Cambridge MA 02138. An historic perspective of its
development 1630-2001, 55 pgs, 32 illustrations mostly maps of
the area at various points in time. It brought back many memories
but most are related to Cambridge.
I think it was about 1946 I yakked one night under a streetlight at the corner of Cross and Farnham with some older guys in a Model A. I got 'a warning' when I got home. The guys were the 'Athlone Gang', based on or near Thomas Street. In those days mothers phoned each other on their whereabouts of their sons and it was usually very easy to guess which mother called whom, although usually you were told.
I
was
always an observer of
unusual vehicles. I recall a house
painter
who was still driving a Model A truck after WW2. He did painstakely
perfectly
detailed house painting jobs. I recall one on Farnham Street. I would
become
acquainted by seeing such 'journeyman' all over Belmont on my lawn
routes.
I have a separate page for my MEMORIES
of VEHICLES in BELMONT MA 1937-1960
The Winn Brook itself was impressive. It was not covered after it went
under Cross street back in our day. It impressed me since I had moved
to the Winn Brook school, spring of 4th grade from Kendall. I am
guessing the brook also created some 'sleepy' odors in warm weather,
overflowing on wet grass. It was an adventure to cross it. I only
fell in once, had to go back home and change. We had boards across it
and you had to be careful.
Where Dean and Sherman met was 'the end' of all development.
Sherman ended at Dean with a short dirt road beyond it, then we had a
path through the weeds to the Brook which was open with high banks to
keep it from making a 'swamp' of the area.
The town had extended Dean across the 'swamp' to Statler in probably
1940, put in sewer lines, manholes, a built up embanked dirt road, not
passable, had strong barriers to make sure you didn't try to
cross it. So that whole area was open field. Channing was not
extended so the open field extended to Brighton Street where there was
a tiny "Munhall' gas station where some of us filled in pumping gas for
some pittance pay. My page Memories of
Vehicles in Belmont MA 1937-1960 has the Munhall, "Old Man
Purington" story.
The Battle of the Winn Brook, 'Suns' versus 'Leopards'
We south swampies in sports activities had acquired the nickname of 'Leopards'. No one knew why, it just 'happened' when teams were picked there were the Sons and the Leopards. The Sons all lived on the northern end of the 'swamp', north of the Winn Brook.
I think we could have been called 'the Irish', but that would apply to most of the Suns also. Our 'leader' was John Nelson 'Ernie' Byrne of Farnham street who was highly imaginative, introducing danger and mystery where properly none existed. He had a diabolical laugh, actually a great put-on, a pronouced limp, resulting from polio. He insisted on competing with no special allowance in baseball and football often as a team leader. He would be irritated if a pitcher didn't fuzz the ball to first when he was beating out a single. I think sometimes we did back off some on his long hits in attempting to throw him out at the plate.
We were quite a lively bunch of suburbia kids, mostly with working parents, from comfortable, mostly new houses, surrounded by acres and acres of remaining farms. and open land already earmarked for postwar subdividing.
Every spring we had built forts in the surrounding fields using discarded Christmas trees as shields. Working on one fort one spring, it was suggested, probably by Ernie that we develop our own ball field on a flat open grassy area. There was a Mrs. Phippen who owned the land since it had been part of the Phippen farm. Ernie said, "I'll deal with ol' lady Phippen".
So we 'cut out' our own baseball field in the empty field where Channing Road ended at Alexander about where Jason now intersects with Channing. This despite two huge public playgrounds within 1/4 and 1/2 mile. We did a lot of work, clearing the clumps and clods of weeds and dirt and toting wheelbarrow loads back and forth. We had 'dugouts' of course, by converting what had been a fort. Lighting the grass afire was a yearly challenge and now with a purpose and a large outfield to clear we, of course, set it afire a couple of times. I believe it was the second year of the ballfield that 'one of our group' lit a fire when the wind was too strong
Normally we beat out our own fires with brooms and shovels but the fire department had to come for this one. One of our group had early on run home, taken a bath and gone to his room, somewhat 'raising' suspicions in his direction. The fire department was angry enough to go to his house and inquire. His mother discovered that one of her big, healthy sons was in his bed on a Saturday afternoon. We didn't see him for weeks except emptying garbage and hanging up clothes.
I believe that was the end of our 'neighborhood' ball field, unfortunately for some neighbors lawns.
This declaration of self assertion to have our own ballfield within sight and 1/4 mile of the Winn Brook playground with five ball diamonds caused the 'Sons' to take special notice. Then when they noticed us building fortifications, dugouts with roofs, etc, on the banks of 'their brook' . This was 'too much', so they decided to attack.
The brook had high banks built up to prevent flooding. Several excavations for houses had been abandoned so it was a 'rough area'. Our 'location' was between the extension of Dean Street where Jason Rd is connected and the brook. During WW2 the Dean Street extension was an impassable raised dirt road extending across the lower part of our fields to extend city services to the Statler Road. This barrier of earth dammed up natural water runoff to the brook and gave us more flooded fields for ice hockey.
I can remember the Sons attack was somewhat of a surprise. They had approached through tall weeds from the greenhouses, suddenly rose up and 'attacked', running towards us, throwing rocks. As the dirt clods and rocks began to fly I assessed our strength and willingness to fight versus my knowledge of the Sons, grabbed my 'army gear' and fled to the rearward to the dirt road, 100 yards back. Subsequently all my fellow Leopards fled leaving Ernie to be captured and de-pantsed by the Sons.
The scene of this 'famous battle' of probably 1943 is south of the greenhouses shown on page 91 of 'Footsteps Through Belmont' Sherman St. Brighton St. Winn Brook playground and the area with some development where the 'suns and leopards' battled.
Later, when Ernie was holding his debriefing in 'our headquarters', either in the old two car garage or under the sheltering pine trees of his backyard, he commented that at the height of the battle he had looked for me and saw that in seconds I had removed myself by 100 yards to the dirt road. I believe in our 'army' I was a 'messenger' or 'scout', whereas my brother, close to Ernie's age and a match in wits was a lieutenant.
We
believed that our
world was 'it'. Whatever Ernie
said
was our command to follow. Behind the sheltering pines of
his
backyard was another of the many empty lots in the
area.
Even though it was dangerously close to our homes, Ernie
designated
a 'work crew' to build a fort there,
principally
of Christmas trees. However, adjoining the lot
was the home of the fiery Al Aucella who
didn't
approve of blighting the neighborhood with piles of
dead
Christmas trees nor trespassing on his property. He was a
very
nice neighbor but very, very fast on his feet, so Ernie's plan was
dropped.