Home Delivery

Home delivery

The Milkman by classmate Frank James

When we first moved to Frackville I remember watching the milkman delivering milk from a horse drawn wagon.  I was amazed to watch the milkman get off the wagon with an oblong wire basket with a handle with six or eight milk bottles and walk down the street placing the requested amount ordered on each doorstep as the big white horse walked down the street ahead of him and stopped at some predetermined place, I guess agreed upon by him and the milkman.  It wasn't too much longer, maybe a year, when the milk company retired the old swayback horse and changed over to mechanized equipment.  It was sort of sad not to see the milkman jump off the wagon and have it waiting for him three or four houses down the block. However, through this young boy’s eyes came a startling surprise when the milkman would jump from his slow moving truck with his milk basket as his vehicle continued down the street about one to two houses.  So, we kids got a kick out watching him adjust to his new mode of transportation as he got better at letting his "stand up" truck drift further down the street.  His "stand up" truck, as I referred to it, was a step van that had a fold up seat which could be driven from a standing position.  It had a gas pedal that was attached to the brake system so that when he jumped out of the truck; it would come to a stop a couple of car lengths further down the road.  It was similar to the way golf carts operate.  This form of vehicle operation in modern times would be an unacceptable public risk. 

I asked Mother what happened to the horse and she said that they retired him and put him out to pasture.  I remembered the farm and Mr.  Marshall's horses in the pastures in New Jersey, and had visions of this nice old white hard-working horse romping around in the green fields eating grass all day.  Then Dad said, as he was eating breakfast, "Naw, he went to the glue factory." 

I asked him, "What's a glue factory?"  Dad said, “It’s where they take old horses, cook them up, and make glue out of them."  Mother looked on with a shocked look and with a feeling of empathy for her son said, "Oh, Heavens, Francis, really!"

The shock to me was almost the same feeling as when someone told me there was no Santa Claus.  When I went to school, and had to use the glue, all I could see was this old white horse, and I didn't want to use it.  Mrs. Kirschner, my first grade teacher at the Franklin school on Broad Mountain Avenue, asked me why I refused to use the glue, and I related my Dad's story to her. She tried to convince me that they didn't use horses for making the glue used by kids, and sent a note home to my parents.  Dad thought this was funny, and had no idea what an impact this incident had made on his young, impressionable son. 

Milk Bottle Cream

My personal story about milk delivery has to do with what happens in the winter. Before homogenization milk came in bottles and the cream was at the top. In freezing temperatures the frozen cream would expand out the top of the bottle raising the paper lid with it. This was quite the sight! Eventually milk boxes on your porch provided some protection so it didn't happen as much.

Iceman

Frank's story reminds me of the iceman who delivered ice to homes in the mid- to late 40s. We literally had an ice box. Blocks of ice were put at the top inside the icebox and that kept food cool for a few days. Over time the ice melted and filled a water pan at the bottom. My job was to empty the pan before water overflowed on the floor. When the block of ice shrunk my mother put a sign in the front window to let the iceman. It had numbers on it indicating the size of the block of ice she wanted. She rotated it so the number she wanted was facing up. The iceman watched for signs in the windows and if he saw one he knew what size he had to cut to bring to the house.

Paperboy

Yes, as far as I recall all of the newspapers were delivered by boys. I was one of them and told my recollections of this in another blog segments called "Jobs" under the title "Paper Route."

Introduction: The Coal Region

1958 High School Yearbook

I’ve always been a pack rat and I have many things from my youth, my tour in the Navy, my IBM career, my family, and retirement. This story is about my youth and growing up in a small coal mining town. I asked classmates if they have any memories they would like to share that I can include. What follows are memories I have and some from several classmates.

One thing we all had in common was being grateful for having lived in Frackville during the 40s and 50s. None of our families had much money but as I look back on that time I don’t recall wanting much more than we had. It truly was the best time.


Coal Region

We were "coal crackers" and many friends and relatives worked in the coal industry in one way or another. My grandfather worked in the mines and my father drove a coal truck. For most of the 1940s coal was the primary fuel in home heating. I’m talking about anthracite coal, or as it was called, "hard" coal. It was much cleaner burning than bituminous, or "soft" coal. The decline of the anthracite industry started in the early fifties when heating homes by oil took over. But until that time, coal was king and Schuylkill county had some of the richest anthracite coal fields in the country.

Frackville’s location was between the Western Middle Coal Field and the Southern Coal Field. The Mahanoy Plane was the valley below the north end of Frackville. The Plane House was built on the highest point in the area on which was referred to as the "hump." Coal that was mined nearby was hoisted from the valley below by cars pulled up an inclined plane powered by steam engines. They were allowed to drift south of town to the St. Clair railroad yards and then by train to major cities.

If you’d like to see a complete list of coal region patches go to http://www.coalregion.com/ and click of Towns & Patches. This is a really cool site for someone who has left the area to bring back old memories. I especially recommend the "Coal Speak Dictionary." The recipes section is pretty good too. It brings back memories of Mom making a big pot of halupkies when I came home on leave from the Navy. Bleenies, oh my goodness, I miss bleenies.

The sad news is they’ve closed the forums and guest book as of June 2009 because of so much hatred expressed by a few. That is a sad commentary about people these days. The guest book is how I first got back in touch with John "Sib" Sabol, one of my neighborhood friends and a classmate that I had lost touch with for a long time. I remember how excited I was when I e-mailed him and found out it really was him that signed the guest book.

I'll continue this later about what I remember about those times but if you grew up in Frackville back in the 1940s and 1950s and you have a story to share - please do.

School Events

Prom Night

Sharon Oris was my girlfriend and my date for the senior prom. She went to Cardinal Brennan Immaculate Heart Academy in Fountain Springs along with Barbara Pasker and Barbara Zack, two girls from Frackville that I dated at one time or another.

Sharon lived up on Pine Street just before the road heads out of town. When we first started going together I was still under the infamous 9:00 O’clock curfew. We didn’t need a wristwatch because the siren at the Goodwill Hose Company sounded nine blasts starting a 9:00 PM. I was supposed to be home by the time the last blast sounded. It wasn’t easy to get home from Sharon’s house in the two minutes or so it took until the last blast. I remember running so fast but often got there a few minutes late completely out of breath.

We double dated with Billy Gilfert and his girlfriend, Carol Kundred who was also a classmate of Sharon’s. We went in Billy’s dad’s car. It was quite foggy that night and we had to go slow, I mean we really crept along at a very slow rate. That was before they painted the edges of the road white so it was very difficult to see.

We had dinner at Liesel’s Restaurant on the outskirts of town. This was my first formal dinner at a restaurant. After dinner we were off to the gym for the prom and dancing. After the dance we drove around for awhile. It was almost dawn when I got home but everyone was asleep so I snuck in.

The black and white picture of the four of us was taken at Billy’s house. The color picture was taken at my parent’s house right before we headed out.

Bloomsburg Fair

I don’t recall the year but I think it was the fall of 1955 when a school trip to the Bloomsburg Fair was offered and somehow I was able to go. My girlfriend at the time was Shirley Blackwell. A bus load of students from a variety of high school classes headed out early in the morning. We had a great time on the bus and at the fair. Several of us bought a gallon of apple cider and proceeded to carry it around the rest of the day acting stupid and drinking a little at a time. The only problem was there were a lot of "little times" so it was practically empty by the time we had to head back. It wasn’t long after we got on the road when I became, shall we say, uncomfortable? I tried my best to hold on until we got back to town but I could tell that was not going to happen. I should also add there were no facilities on the bus.

The pressure was mounting and I decided I had to do something drastic. I painfully headed up the aisle to talk to the bus driver. He said he was not stopping for anyone because everyone would get off the bus and we would be late getting back. I told him he had better find a place to stop quickly or there would be grave consequences. The painful expression on my face and my body contortions must have convinced him. I don’t recall where we stopped but I was the first one out the door. There were others, poor souls, that followed and then we were quickly on our way again. I don’t recall exactly what happened the rest of the way back to town but I was very silent if I remember correctly. I don’t think I dated Shirley again.

Hershey Park

This was a class trip, probably in my freshman or sophomore year. I had never ridden on a big roller coaster before and after a little prodding, I joined the rest of the guys I was with. It was horrible. I was scared and I’m certain I stopped breathing for a minute. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. So, what do I do? I join in and take another ride because everyone told me that the next rides are better. It wasn’t and I’ve never been on a roller coaster since.

Gettysburg

Our class trip to Gettysburg was memorable in a bad way. Most of the day was pretty uneventful until we entered a store in Gettysburg. It was a novelty store up front with a bedroom in the back that has a bed Lincoln slept it, or so we were told by the store owner.

About half of us decided to go see the bed while the other half browsed the store. We signed a guest book in the bedroom and saw, well, a bed. After about five minutes we left the room and joined the rest of the gang to see what other interesting things we could find in other stores. It wasn’t until a day of so later, after our return, that things got dicey. Apparently the store owner had been ripped off by some students who stayed in the front of the store while we went in the back room.

I don’t know how they knew who might be responsible but I do recall that several students had to bring their Gettysburg mementos back to school the next day so they could be returned. I think those of us that signed the guest book in the Lincoln bedroom were removed from suspicion because of that. I believe that day trips to Gettysburg were cancelled for future classes because of this. They may have resumed but not that I am aware of.

Football Games

Football games at Memorial Park were well attended. We didn’t win a lot of games but we were full of high school spirit. There were quite a few senior classmates on the team. My parents wouldn’t allow me to try out for the football squad and I kind of agreed with them. I was a bit on the skinny side for that anyhow.

It was almost tradition that before the game you visited a local bakery. A classmate, Lew Seltzer, commented recently about this when talking about his football game memories. "Getting a loaf of Vienna bread at New York Bakery before a football game and eating center out and using outside for boxing or hand warmer." I do remember going to the bakery but I don’t think I ever used the loaf as boxing gloves, however, I did use both halves as hand warmers!

Organized Activities

Cub Scouts

I was in the Cub Scouts for a few years and eventually became a Boy Scout. I never had a Cub Scout uniform; just a shirt, necktie, and cap. I never gave it a second thought because it wasn’t all that unusual in those days. We met at the Den Mother’s house on South Nice Street.

One memory that stands out was a competition. Every Cub Scout was asked to put a model train together and they would be judged on accuracy, workmanship, and completeness. There was an event scheduled for us and our parents at the church that sponsored us.

I went to the local department store and bought a wooden engine and coal car. I assembled it and painted it as best I could. The night of the competition I went with a friend and his parents. I don’t remember if my father was out of town or not but in either event, neither of my parents were going to attend. Neither of them had the time or inclination to be "actively involved" in any of the things I participated in. This was pretty normal so it didn’t bother me much.

The judging took place over the course of the evening. There were some very elaborate models that were obviously required help from someone. Still, my little engine stood up there with them all and I didn’t feel slighted in the least. I actually was kind of proud of what I did by myself. Finally it was time to announce the winners. Tension built as one by one praise was given to the quality of the models as each winner was announced. This is I do recall: mine was the last to be recognized by the announcement "and now, last but not least, Glenn Heckard."

Boy Scouts

I became a Boy Scout and Scotty Bradbury, the father of one of my classmates, was the Scout Master. We met in the basement of the church at the corner of Frack and Nice Street. I think it was the Reformed Church.

I was a Tenderfoot and tried earning merit badges to get to a higher rank. I think I advanced a Second Class Scout by the time I stopped going. I didn’t earn a lot of merit badges but I really enjoyed being a member.

I recall several camping trips we took. Some were just day trips out to the area near Mud Run Dam. We would hike for a while and then stop to build a campfire. On occasion we would pitch tents and camp overnight. I remember hiking down along the road to St. Clair, a town about 4 miles south of town. We didn’t go that far but it was an adventure. The road between the towns was two lanes each way and in some spots divided by a significant distance. At least in my eyes it was significant. Now that I look back at the area it wasn’t far between the roads—maybe three hundred yards.

We marched down a hill off the road and made camp in the early afternoon. We pitched tents and dug a trench around each tent to direct any rain water away from them. It did rain that night but we still got a little soaked.

Every year there was a week-long event called a Camporee. My father was able to drive me there but was not available to pick me up. Arrangements were made for me to ride back with another scout’s family. My father was not an outdoors person. We didn’t camp, picnic, or even walk in the woods. Everything I learned about camping was through experiencing it with others. He was sure to tell one of the leaders to watch out for me because I was a "greenhorn" which was quite the embarrassment for me.

We also visited a Scout Camp near Blue Mountain. We swam in a big lake and had a lot of outdoor events scheduled. They had cabins so we didn’t pitch tents. Each cabin could sleep about 6 to 8 people. I think they may have been open on one end.

Two things stand out from that trip. One was a scout found another scout with some cigarettes. He was forced to eat some and he got sicker than a dog. They had to take him to get his stomach pumped.

The second memory had to do with initiation for first-year campers. There was this long trough with a lot of spigots for washing up in the morning. First-year scouts were stripped naked, put in the trough, watered down, soaped up, and slid from one end of the trough to the other.

Methodist Youth Fellowship

I belonged to the Methodist Youth Fellowship (MYF) along with other classmates that went to our church. One day a week during the school year we walked two and a half blocks from the high school to our church on Balliet Street for religious instruction.

It was there that we were introduced to male and female sexuality. Wow, actual drawings of our private parts. Cool! It wasn’t easy to come by pictures in those days so that’s where we gained some knowledge about each other’s body. My parents never said a word to us about this topic. At least not until prom night. My mother mentioned something about being careful in the back seat of the car with my girl friend. It’s a blur now and was then because I just wanted to get out of the house.

Another thing we did once a month was travel to nearby towns to meet other MYF kids and participate in a planned event. Up until this time I only knew girls from Frackville. One of the events was a trip to a roller skating rink. I met a girl there and we skated together quite a bit. I can’t remember what her name was or where she was from. I do remember looking forward to seeing her each time we visited the rink.

Baseball Team

We played a lot of unorganized sports just for fun. We played tackle football in a vacant lot on the corner of Second and Chestnut Streets. It wasn’t until I was in high school that someone built a small apartment building on that lot. We also played baseball at the "tennis courts" and at the field at the bottom of Second and Third Street. We played a lot of catch in the street.

Then, there was the high school baseball team. I participated for three years but I didn’t play much. I was a left-handed pitcher and since I was the only left-hander, I’m pretty certain that’s why I made the team. I wasn’t a good batter but it may have had something to do with not getting any batting practice. I was sent to the outfield to shag fly balls during batting practice. I say that now because I was a first baseman on the Navy softball team and I had one of the highest batting averages. OK, maybe it was because the ball is bigger, but it was fast pitch!

We had these really hot, wool uniforms. My uniform was so baggy it felt like I could blow away in a strong wind. My guess is since I wasn’t very good that I had last pick of the uniforms but I really don’t recall. We also had to buy our own shoes which were not comfortable at all.

I enjoyed being on the team and riding a school bus for out-of-town games. We didn’t have school buses because we all walked to school. I lived only a block from the high school and it was only five blocks to the ball field at the north end of Memorial Park.

I earned a letter each year pitching in relief but I didn’t start a game until my senior year. I had to start a game or I wouldn’t get a sweater. My parents had not attended any home games but when my father found out I was starting the game against Girardville he came but didn’t tell me. I pitched well enough to win the game but in all fairness, they were the worst team in the league that year. I remember coming to the bench after the fifth inning and I was red and kind of frothing at the mouth. My friend Ray said" Take it easy, you’re winning." I batted that inning and struck out. I didn’t go back in for the last inning. The best part about it is my Dad enjoyed the game (Thank goodness he couldn’t see up close how I was struggling).

I was not a good pitcher but I was left handed! However, I had a perfect record of 1 win and no losses in the only game I started. That earned my senior letter and sweater. Phew! 

1958 FHS Baseball Team: Baseball season always occurred too late for pictures to be included in the yearbook. All other sports had pictures. I found this newspaper article depicting the 1958 baseball squad published in May 1958.

Freedom

Crossing the Street

Second street, like all others back then, was a two-way street with parking on both sides. Alleys were unpaved and did not have street names like they do now. I never understood why alleys all of a sudden became streets since there were no houses on them. The back yards of all of the houses ended at the "alley."

I was not allowed to cross the street by myself unless my mother stood on the porch and watched me. It was until I was almost in first grade that I finally could cross without her watching. That was my first taste of freedom.

Two-wheeler

The next major step in gaining freedom was when I got my bicycle. I only remember there being one size two wheel-bicycle and it was full size. Most parents didn’t have money to buy different sizes as you were growing up. I’m not sure of the year when I got my bicycle but I know it was impossible for me to straddle it without falling over, after all it was a boys bike!

My father helped me get on it the very first time and he balanced it until I got up to speed. Stopping, well that was another story and I had to let the bike fall to the side to get off. Every time I wanted to ride, I would have to get next to something I could hold on to until I got my feet on the pedals. Most of the time it was one of the green iron clothesline poles in the back yard.

There were no training wheels, no extensions on the pedals, and no helmets. There were a few bumps and bruises, that’s for certain.

Driver’s License

Learning to drive with your father was a whole new experience. We have a light green 1949 four-door Ford with a three speed stick shift. I don’t remember if I had to take a test for a learner’s permit or not. I do know that someone with a driver’s license had to be with you. I went out quite a few times with my father until I became comfortable behind the wheel. Somewhere along the way, between me first learning to drive and before getting my license, my dad got a 1953 Ford station wagon for his TV business.

Right on my sixteenth birthday I wanted to go get my license. The testing facility was in Schuylkill Haven. My father was out of town making coal deliveries but my sister, Shirley, had her license. She went with me in the station wagon and I took and passed the test.

One month later and disaster struck. I borrowed my Dad’s station wagon to go to a church youth gathering in Pottsville with Billy Gilfert, one of my friends. We didn’t go straight to the church like I should have. After driving around for a while we were on the way to the church and came to the stop light at the traffic light when you first enter Pottsville. The light was green and just before I entered the intersection to turn left the light turned yellow. There was another car coming from the opposite direction but since I had my turn signal on and was preparing to turn in front of the car I was certain it would not run the yellow. It did and smashed into the right rear panel of my dad’s car. We got spun around and came to rest near someone’s front yard. There were no seat belts in cars yet and we got quite a jolt. I hung on to the steering wheel but Billy didn’t have anything to keep him from getting bounced around.

I never phoned my father. We went to the police station and eventually drove home. When I arrived in Frackville I don’t know what I was thinking but instead of parking facing south in front of our house I went around the block so I could be facing north. That way the damaged right side of the car could not be seen from the house.

I went inside as though nothing had happened. I obviously was acting strange so when my father asked I told him what had happened. He went outside to look and I stood there in fear because I was certain there would be repercussions and I’d have my driving privileges revoked. He said to come into the kitchen and we sat at the table. We talked for a few minutes about what happened. Very little was said for a minute or two. Then he tossed the keys to me and said to go up to the Carvel stand and get a quart of ice cream. I still don’t understand it to this day but my respect for him grew. I’m certain he knew the best thing for me would be to get back in the car right away. That, I’ll never forget.

Fun Times

Memorial Park

The park included the football and baseball fields, a swimming pool, swings, a slide, and a pavilion where tennis courts were eventually built. Even before the first pool was opened we played many times at the park on the swings and slide as kids. Once the pool opened we spent even more time there. It was a short walk of about three blocks up the back ally to the park gate.

A local handyman, Buddy Bucklew, made a very nice, and pretty large, concrete dance floor in the Memorial Park, not too far from the swings. He built a wooden shed and had a jukebox inside. If I recall correctly, it had a door that was kept locked and Buddy had to open it to get to the jukebox. I actually spent quite a few nights up there dancing, probably around 1956-1957. I don’t think the shed lasted too long but the concrete pad did. It was real nice of him to do it. One of the song’s I remember dancing to was Allegheny Moon by Patti Page.

The Willows

I played in the Willows and the stream that ran from Center Street down past where Herb’s lived on Chestnut Street. It’s funny to say now but they lived right above the dump and it never seemed to be a problem for anyone. We climbed up and down that dump so many times and never gave it a second thought. We used to dam up the stream below the dump and float rafts on it.

There was a swamp right next to the Willows. That’s what it was called then. I remember thinking the Willows and the "swamp" were really great places to hang out.

Copperhead

Once I was on my way to a Cub Scout meeting and took a shortcut through the Willows. I was with another Cub Scout and we saw a snake. We picked it up and it curled around my arm. We just thought it was kind cute so we took it with us to the Den Mother’s house for our meeting. The was an older man there, maybe the Den Mother’s husband, and he got real excited and told us to be real still. The man got a jar of formaldehyde and put the snake in and closed the lid. A few seconds later it was all over. It turns out it was a poisonous copperhead! Then I got real scared.

Ball Field

There was a big field down at the bottom of Second Street. We played many games down their including football and baseball. I played there a lot over the years. The one memory I have that stands out the most was when I was about 10 or 11 years old. I was down there when I had my appendicitis attack. I couldn’t stand up without hurting real bad. I remember Dad was home and took me up to the doctor. They laid me on a table, pressed my right side, and I screamed. The next thing I knew I was in the ambulance headed for the Ashland Hospital. I was in there for several days recovering, not like today. There were no private or semi-private rooms. There were many beds lined up next to each other with cloth screens if privacy was needed.

I had been in the hospital about six months earlier to have my tonsils removed. I was given ether and it was a very bad experience. I had terrible dreams and never wanted to experience them again. When they got me into the operating room and laid me on that same table, I fought back. It took several people to hold me down but they finally got me put under, with ether. I had the same bad dream again. I was caught in a swirling tornado-like cloud that kept pulling me down. I held onto the back porch steps as long as I could but I finally went into the ground. That’s all I remember. Now that I think of it the cloud looked exactly like the patterns of overlapping circles we drew while practicing the Palmer Method of handwriting. Weird.

I was in the hospital for about five or six days. The day before I was released they came by to take out my stitches. That hurt a lot. For all my suffering my parents bought me a Howdy Doody puppet to keep me company.

Wagner’s Dam

I think it was down by Arch and Balliet Streets. I went there many times to watch them fishing. I remember it being kind of smelly with slime around the edges. It was filled in later and I remember seeing all of the catfish squirming around after it was drained. It seems like there was a horse riding stable right near it but don’t remember much about it.

Games

Boy we played a lot of games in our old neighborhood. We spent a lot of hours doing nothing more than having fun. In a way, some of the things we did as kids reminds me of the movie "Stand by Me." If you haven’t seen this one you’ve got to look for it.

Some of the games were Kick-the-Can, Red Rover, Hide & Seek (of course), Ring-o-levio, Simon Says, King of the Hill, Marbles, and Mumbley-Peg.

Mumbley-Peg

Wikipedia says "The term "Mumbley-peg" came from the practice of putting a peg of about 2 or 3 inches into the ground. The loser of the game had to take it out with his teeth. It was very popular as a schoolyard game in the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth centuries, but with increased concern over child safety the game has declined in popularity. It is generally played between two people with the aid of a pocket knife. The opponents stand opposite one another with their feet shoulder-width apart. The first player then takes the knife and throws it to "stick" in the ground as near his own foot as possible. The second player then repeats the process. Whichever player "sticks" the knife closest to his own foot wins the game. If a player "sticks" the knife in his own foot, he wins the game by default, although few players find this option appealing because of the possibility of bodily harm."

I had an unfortunate accident once playing this game. I reached for something on the ground just as the knife was thrown. It cut my finger pretty deep, close to the bone as I recall. I knew I couldn’t go home so I went to a doctor’s office and he taped it closed. There were no stitches so he said to be careful and not bend it. There were no charges for doing this. Just another example of how friendly the town was. I don’t recall the story I told my parents but I can assure you it didn’t involve a pocket knife!

Halloween

I remember one Halloween in particular that we gathered in the Shadel’s kitchen for a Halloween party.

Pictured in the front left to right are Glenn; Billy Giba; Mary "Cookie" Shadel; and Mickey Sukana. Back row, Ann Shadel; Shirley Heckard; and Harry Shadel. This picture was taken by Mr. Giba and has been one of my favorites over the years.

Back then you actually had to perform a trick at Halloween in order to get a treat. Somehow that changed over time to mean if you don’t treat me I’ll trick you.

I used to memorize a poem and recite that. Harry Shadel could play the guitar and sing. We went all up and down several streets and by far the best place was a local beer garden two blocks north. All of the patrons would give you something so it was a very popular spot for all the local kids.

Orange Crate Race Cars

Back in elementary school days during the Summer, we played in the entryway between our house and Giba’s, the house to the South of ours. I recall going over to Anthony’s store to get old orange crates so we could build race cars. We only had one dull saw and a hammer. We pulled nails from everywhere and straightened them on the pavement using the hammer. If I remember right it was me, my brother Jimmy, Billy Giba, and young Mickey Sukana. I really can’t recall ever completing one but I know we did this more than once. Fun times in the old entryway.

Catch

We played catch with our dad with a sponge ball right in the middle of the street in front of our house. Cars were parked on both sides and we threw the ball really high. We also played a game of baseball by throwing the sponge ball against the lip of the curb. The fielder was on the other side of the street and tried to get the batter out. We had rules for what was a single, double, etc. up to a home run. I don’t remember what they were anymore. We played these games often and nobody seemed concerned that we might get hit by a car or hit a parked car with the ball. Another example of "Small Town, USA."

Tennis Court

We spent many hours playing baseball at the "Tennis court" at the Northeast corner of Second Street and Chestnut Street. We called it the tennis courts because that’s what had been there one time. It was a dirt court, no asphalt or grass. The iron posts that held the nets were there for many years. I remember Frank Prenetta hitting a foul ball right into old man Morgan’s window just North of the field. We all took off running but somehow Ralph found out who it was and I remember Frank putting in the new pane of glass.

It was at the southern most end of the tennis courts that we played King of the Hill because it was the highest point.

War

We also played a game of war where we used inner tubes (remember them) and cut them into strips for ammunition. We made a gun out of a wood stick and a pinch clothes pin. The ammunition was stretched from the front of the barrel back to the clothes pin. One at a time was loaded into the mouth of the "trigger" and released when you saw the "enemy." We ran all through the neighbor’s yards hiding and seeking out the enemy. No body complained about all of the activity and noise in their yards.