Neighbors

Census Reports

I generally do some genealogical work when my business is slow in the winter months. For kicks, I downloaded the most current census report available for Frackville. It is from 1930 and even though we didn’t live there at the time, I wanted to see who lived on Second Street. Some of those listed were my neighbors when I was growing up. There were the Whery, Hosler, O’Connel, Jones, Anthony and Davis families. All of them were there while I was growing up.

Here’s a few examples of what you can see in the census report from 1930.

• Whery, Daniel (54) and Genny (48). Mr. Whery was a coal stripper in the mines. Their daughter, Maude (27) was single and worked at the Post Office (she worked there until she retired). Another daughter Bertha (17) was the mother of a good friend, Joe Moyer.
• Jones, John (35) and Hannah (35). Mr. Jones was an auto mechanic. He worked at Bowe’s Ford Garage on the corner of Oak & Second St. He walked home every day for lunch.
• Davis, Albert (35) and Pamela (35). Mr. Davis was a veteran of WW-I and a carpenter at the railroad. Their daughter Beatrice was a good friend and classmate.
• Hostler, Charles (54) and Anna. Mr. Hostler was an insurance agent. He was in his
  late seventies or early eighties when I did some chores for him for about a year because he was unable to do much due to an illness.
• O’Connell, John (34) and Florence (37). John was a motor operator in the mines. He had died before I knew him but we spent a lot of time with Mrs. O’Connell.
• Anthony, George (45) and Rose (38). They owned the local grocery store across the street. I worked for their sons, Tommy and George.
• Semrod, Louis (54) and Ada (52). Mr. Semrod was a stableman in the coal mines. He died before I knew him. Mr’s Semrod’s living room was where neighbor’s gathered to quilt. The frame took up the whole living room.

You can also see the value of their property, typically around $4,500 and if they owned or rented. Other columns described where they, their parents, and children were born, military service, and so on. Any how, you get the idea. These were things I never new about most of them, or don’t recall, that is except for Mr. Jones, I did know a lot about him.

Memories about neighbors that I knew well follow. Some were not listed in the 1930 census.

Shadel

Harry Sr. was a very hard worker. I don’t know what he did for a living before he built the store on the Frackville-Ashland road in Fountain Springs. I went down with Harry Jr, who was a very good friend of mine but not a "hard" worker and he would never volunteer to help. We drove down to the store while it was still under construction so it was probably the summer 1955. Harry had this beautiful red 1949 Ford convertible that I loved to ride in. We drove down and visited the store and talked to his father. He was still framing it up. I think we must have brought something down for his father but we didn’t do anything else to help. We explored around behind the store for a bit and then took off.

When we were elementary-school age, Mr. Shadel used to sit on the front porch on hot summer nights. Kids from all over the block would gather and listen to his stories. He would light up his pipe, take a few puffs and start the tale. I can’t remember any details except we were mesmerized. Some were scary for sure. Remember, this was before TV so maybe that’s why they seemed so engrossing.

Mrs. Shadel worked in the store all day and then did all of the homemaker chores as well. Ann, their oldest daughter, did help quite a bit but I think it took a toll on Mrs. Shadel. I have never seen anyone work harder than her.

She had this really neat coal stove in her kitchen. I remember her ironing and she didn’t use an electric iron. She used those old irons that had to be heated externally on the stove. She had several of them and used one while others were being heated. When the iron cooled off she would put that one on the stove and grab a hot one. I think she had three irons. Anyhow, can you imagine standing next to a hot stove in the summer to do your ironing?

Whery

The Whery’s lived in the other side of the duplex I grew up in. Their back yard was full of trees. When I was about 6 or 7, Mrs. Whery saw me in the back yard and she said "Catch" as she threw an apple to me from one of their trees. Stuck in the side was a dime. When I saw it I looked at her and she winked. That’s all there was to it. Nothing more was said.

The Whery home also had an outhouse in the back yard and Dan used that instead of indoor plumbing. I believe they were farmers and some things are ingrained. You could purchase live chickens and Dan was out in the back of his yard one day and we were playing in our yard. He had a live chicken and proceeded to cut the head off. The chicken ran around a circle several times before it died. That was scary to us but he just went about his business and took it back to the house.

Dan walked with a cane but way into his latter years he would take a walk up the mountain. I remember Coach Bobiak telling us of the legend of Dan Whery going into the woods with nothing more than his cane and a bag and returning with a raccoon he killed. I do not know if that was dinner or what but his skill at this was well know in the neighborhood.

Old Dan was sitting on the porch one day talking to me. He said "Did you see the hot air balloon that went over today?" I said, "No." He smiled and said "Neither did I" as he laughed. Life’s simple pleasures and they stick with you.

Giba

Mickey and Rose Giba lived in the duplex just to the south with their only child, Billy. Mickey was an avid photographer and over the years he took many of the pictures I came to be very fond of them. My parents never had a camera and if it wasn’t for Mickey Giba and my grandmother there would not be much to document those early years.

I don’t remember too much about Rose. She was a stay-at-home mom like most and other than sitting on the front porch in evenings I didn’t see much of her. Every time I came back to Frackville I would always stop at their place to catch up on things. Billy had moved to Texas and I know they were very lonely and I enjoyed talking with them for a short time.

Jones

I spent quite a bit of time at the Jones’ house. Mrs. Jones made a treat for us out of saltine crackers spread with butter and then sprinkled with sugar. I still enjoy a few once and a while. I was sure to stop by and visit with her when I was in town. I still have some from time to time and always think of her.

Anthony

Neighborhood grocery store. See "Jobs" for more information.

O’Connel

Mrs. O’Connell used to invite neighborhood kids over for some fun things to do. One of our favorites was going up in her attic and looking through all of the boxes and trunks of clothes she kept up there. We would dress up in different outfits and act out characters. Her husband had died some time earlier and nobody was living with her. I seen to recall a daughter named Mary Jane but don’t remember seeing her.

Davis

Beatrice, was a friend and classmate. We actually right next door when we first moved there. We used to joke about her being my first girlfriend. See "Friends" for more information.

Father

Over the course of his lifetime my father drove his own coal trucks, he drove for the Frackville Block Company delivering cinder blocks, and he drove a beer truck for a local distributor. He also was a radio and TV repairman for quite a few years. He was a proud man and very opinionated.

Coal Delivery Truck

For many years my father drove his own coal truck. I remember he had a Diamond-T and parked it in the alley behind our house. He worked out of Mr. Rust’s coal yard in Morton, near Philadelphia. He would take his 19-ton trailer down to the coal yard a couple times a week. He would be gone most of the time delivering coal to the Philadelphia suburbs and usually stayed overnight in a small one-room building.

Mr. Rust owned the Morton Coal Yard and was my father’s boss. He also ran a boarding house along with a woman (not sure of the relationship if any) named Mrs. Roth. She cooked all the meals for boarders and cleaned house. When my father was there he would eat his meals with everyone else at very specific times. When I or my brother went with him, we ate there too. This is the odd part. Mr. Rust could not stand to have any leftovers and insisted everyone cleaned their plate. If there was anything left over, I mean gravy, Jello, peas, anything, even from someone’s plate, he would scrape it onto a dish and eat it himself!

Mr. Rust owned the house our family lived in beginning in 1942. Dad rented the house for many years. Out of the blue one year Mr. Rust sold the house to my dad for $100. Since Mr. Rust was so tight with money I can only guess he knew how much my father paid in rent and that’s probably all he owed.

The day before heading to the coal yard he would fill the truck at a local colliery, which locals referred to as a coal breaker. Depending of the size coal he needed; pea, nut, rice, stove, etc., he would partition the trailer accordingly and then unload it at the coal yard in different bins according to size. Then he would load up the smaller dump truck, I think it held four or five tons, and weigh it on the scale which was part of the coal yard. He would check in with Mr. Rust to log the exact weight. I remember sitting in Mr. Rust’s office and staring at this huge green safe. It had C. M. Rust in big letters. After Mr. Rust agreed the truck was at the proper weight for the scheduled deliveries, then it was ready to deliver to customers.

He could usually run a coal chute front the truck, to the window at their coal bin, raise the hydraulic truck bed, and it was delivered in minutes. There were situations where he couldn’t get close enough, or it was uphill, and I saw him unload it, one canvas bag at a time, walk up to the window to pour it down the chute. I don’t know how much those bags held but I know they were heavy. I helped a little but mainly I was down in the coal bin watching that things were OK there and shovelling it away from the chute as needed.

Beer Truck

He not only drove but loaded and unloaded for each delivery. He made trips to breweries in Brooklyn, New York and Baltimore, Maryland to pick up loads. He returned and unloaded the cargo. Then he would make deliveries to local beer gardens. That must have been hard for him to accept because he did not drink and didn’t think anyone else should. 

Radio and Television Repair Business

One thing that really impressed me about my father was he knew the coal business was going downhill and he did something about it. He enrolled in a National Radio Institute (NRI) home course to learn how to fix radios. Eventually it led to phonographs, car radios, and TVs. He knew nothing about electricity or electronics when he started, at least nothing more than a typical homeowner.

Initially he set up a shop of sorts in the attic. The bench went right across where the gable window is at the front of the house. You can barely make it out but its at the top right of the picture of him painting the coal truck. When a NRI lesson arrived he would study a section and send answers back for grading. As he progressed through each lesson, components would come through the mail and he would assemble them into a workable piece of electronics equipment. This included building all of his own test equipment using the kit components they sent. I remember the night he came running downstairs and asked us come up and listen to the radio he built. I thought at the time, and I still do, that was such a thrill that it energized him to continue.

Eventually he assembled a small black & white TV and his business was off and running. That’s when he tore off the back porch and shed and built his TV shop seen in the picture above. That’s also when we lost access from the cellar to the back yard through the trap doors. That was another thing that impressed me. He wasn’t a carpenter or handyman that I can recall but he did it—he built the shop himself. He did all of this in between trips to deliver coal.

He was only home a few nights each week but he stuck with it and it paid off. I use the term "paid off" loosely because I don’t think he ever made much money to spare. He sunk a lot of it back into his business for spare parts, schematics, and test equipment. He also felt he couldn’t charge people what he should have because he knew they couldn’t afford it. I think he was so generous that it hurt him in the end. I realize that he must have been dog-tired and believe that’s why he had little time for us growing up.

We had a 1949 two-door Ford sedan but transporting TVs was very difficult. His radio and television business was picking up. Somewhere along the way my dad got a 1953 Ford station wagon. Most repairs were made in the customer’s home but often he would have to bring the TV back to his shop. Many TVs were console models and transporting them required a vehicle with a tail gate so that’s why he got the station wagon. Often he would remove the chassis from larger console TVs but many were transported in the cabinet. I went with him to help with those that were too large for him to handle alone. It was often in the evenings and on weekends. He carried a large case full of vacuum tubes and spare parts to replace those that failed frequently.

When color TVs were becoming popular he had to purchase some test equipment because it was too complex to build. Eventually, TVs became more modular and troubleshooting was no longer possible to the component level. When a problem in a modular unit was suspected he would either order the part or go to Pottsville to an electronics supply store to pick one up. They were too expensive to stock and I think the evolution in technology is why he eventually gave up his business.

In order to repair radios and TVs down to the component level; resistors, capacitors, etc.. you needed access to a library of schematics. Dad kept up to date with all the schematics for radios, car radios, phonographs, and TVs. He kept them all in filing cabinets that eventually took up one side of his shop.

One final TV story. One of our neighbors was Mickey Sukana. He used to hang out in my dad’s shop. Mickey must have thought that repairing TVs was a good occupation because he soon started doing some repair work himself. When he ran into a problem he couldn’t solve he would ask my dad for help. He didn’t have much of a parts stock or a collection of schematics so he borrowed everything from Dad. Dad would sell tubes to Mickey at cost and then had to resupply his own stock. I don’t think he ever said anything to Mickey because he was a good friend.

When he decided it was time to quit, he just threw everything out, tubes and all. The sad part is that my cousin in Lewistown was repairing all sorts of electronic devices including radios, TVs, and jukeboxes and he would love to have had his parts stock. My father never gave it a second thought although he did feel badly about it later.

After cleaning out the shop of everything but the work bench, he bought an inexpensive pool table from Sears. I never knew he wanted one but every time we visited we shot a few games for fun.

Little Man’s Champion
My dad was not a tall man nor was he particularly well built, but he was strong. He couldn’t stand to see someone being taken advantage of, especially if they were the underdog. I recall one Sunday morning sitting on the front porch. We were waiting for the Sunday paper delivery. Sunday papers were delivered in a large green wagon pulled by hand. The wagon made stops at intersections and neighbor’s walked from their homes to the wagon. There was some sort of scuffle and my dad stepped in and nullified what looked like an over match.

Stubbornness

One thing for certain, my father was stubborn. Once he made his mind up about something there was no changing it. Logic went out the window so it was no use arguing with him. I recall talking to him about something on TV. It was a musician playing a guitar. I casually mentioned that it was a right-hander’s guitar and if a left-handed person played it they would have to reverse the strings. He insisted that was not the case and even though I demonstrated why that was, he stood his ground. That was the end of the discussion.

When the local bank said they would no longer return cancelled checks he walked right up to the bank and insisted they continue to send them to him. You see, my father had saved every check he ever wrote. He had a filing cabinet full of them which was discovered after he died.

Several relatives had lived with us over the years. My dad’s cousin Chester lived with us on more than one occasion. Chester was a retired military man. He was used to discipline and giving orders. Dad was just plain stubborn He did not want to take orders from anyone in his house. He showed me a list of things he wrote down about Chester that bothered him. It was sad but they really never discussed much so it allowed anger to build up to the boiling point.

Jobs

Paper Routes

I had a paper route for three years delivering the Philadelphia Inquirer every day except Sunday. I think I was the only one in my senior class that had to deliver papers in the morning before school. The paper was always very heavy on Thursdays. That was the issue when all the ads were published for stores.

Normally I’d pick up my 52 papers at the paper office on Frack Street that was owned by Mr. Kalbach. But on Thursdays, we could only carry half because they were so thick with all of the ads. The other half on my route was dropped off next to the street corner of Oak and Fourth Streets. Papers were delivered as close to the door as possible. We did not just toss them on the ground outside the house. I got pretty good at throwing them so they made one complete revolution and slid, folded end first, up close to the front door. It was the same toss you make in playing horse shoes. It took about 45 to 50 minutes to complete my route and then it was time to get ready for school. The most famous person on my route were the parents of Ron Northey, a ball player for the Philadelphia Phillies.

I also delivered the Shenandoah Evening Herald in the evenings for a year. My route was across the railroad tracks North of Oak Street from Railroad Avenue to Spencer Street for a year. That was easier because it was a much smaller paper. The Inquirer had to be folded in a rectangle but you could fold the Herald in a triangle and throw it much farther.

Saturday was the best day of the week because after delivering the paper it was time to go back and collect money for the week’s deliveries. The paper was 5 cents and when I collected the thirty cents for the week I’d usually get a nickel or dime tip. That alone added up to a few dollars extra. I think we were only paid a penny a day to deliver each paper so tips were almost as much as my pay most weeks.

Anthony’s Grocery Store and "Store at Your Door"

Anthony’s store on Second Street was kitty-corner from our house. We did all of our shopping there. I think most people ran a tab because money was tight. My mother always said "tell them to put it on the book." When my parents had a few dollars I’d be asked to go and pay some of what was owed.

I worked in their little grocery store as a stock boy. You had to go outside and down the trap doors to get to the basement where all the stock was stored. I also worked on their "Store at Your Door" as a bagger and "totaler-upper." They used an old blue converted school bus. It was pretty neat. The back of it opened like today’s hatch backs, if I recall correctly, and that exposed the counter. We loaded the bus the night before because we got a very early start and didn’t get back until the late afternoon. Customers would line up and place their orders. George or Tommy Anthony sliced the meats and got the products from the shelves and gave them to me to bag. Each item’s price was recorded on the side of the bag in pencil. When the order was complete I was asked to total it up. Then Tommy or George rang it up on the old cash register and took the money.

The whole idea was to take the store to people in the surrounding patches that had nothing nearby. However, the first stop was always at the St. Joseph’s Catholic Church at Center and Frack Streets. We went right next door to the home where the nuns lived. They certainly could have come to town but they were always the first stop. Then the bus headed out of town and down the "Maizie." When we got to the bottom of the hill we headed for Shennandoah, Mahanoy City, and then back toward Girardville hitting every patch on the way.

Garden Theater
The Garden Theater was located on the corner of Oak Street (Rt. 61) and Lehigh Avenue, the main intersection in Frackville. The theater was one of the first businesses to have air conditioning. What a treat on a hot summer day. I remember going out the side exit doors after the movie. The afternoon sun was so bright it took a minute before you could see. The doors opened to the sidewalk along Oak Street just four blocks from my house. There were two small stores on either side of the ticket booth. The one on the left was Peanut’s Bender’s Cigar store. He sold tobacco, newspapers, and magazines. It was also the Greyhound stop and he sold tickets.

I was an usher at the Garden Theater for a few years. I wore a jacket and carried a flashlight. The light was used to show people to their seats after the movie started. It was also used to shine on noisy patrons.

The job involved much more than ushering. We rode around with the owner, Joe Snitzer, in his car every Saturday to deliver posters covering the next week’s movies to all the restaurants and bars within 10 miles of Frackville. Joe pinched pennies and saved every way he could. There was a back road out of Shenandoah that went to Mahanoy City. It must have been Rt. 54. It was downhill just about the whole way and Joe would get a head start, shut the engine off, and coast all the way to the bottom.

We helped in the audience when they played a game one night a week, I think on Wednesday, that was similar to Bingo, but it was called LUCKY. The rules were the same as Bingo, just using different letters.

We changed the marquee and posters three times a week. Each night for the last showing of a movie, we had to take the posters out of the windows in front of the theater and roll them up to be sent along with the two reels of film to the next theater showing them. Then we would put in the next show’s posters and change the marquee to the new show. There was a very tall ladder down by the stage. It took two people to handle it so we walked down an aisle to the stage during the movie and took the ladder out the side door. The letters were kept in the basement and we took only those needed for the next show that were not included in the name of the previous movie. They were heavy and had an angled slot to hang on the wire frame. More than once I wish I had kept one or two of the posters. They’d be worth a fortune today.

One of the benefits of working there was I got in free and I could bring my girl friends for nothing. The balcony about six rows of seats and some were double seats where you could cuddle close with your girl friend. I was attending a recent high school reunion that is held every three years for every class that graduated from Frackville. Each class sat at their own table. I was at the class of 1958 when someone tapped me on the shoulder from the class of 1959 table behind me. It was Ann Lapinski and after talking for a few minutes she asked if I remembered that I was her first date. It's embarrassing to say I didn’t. She went on to say I took her to the theater in 1953 and saw House of Wax staring Vincent Price. Wow, what a memorable evening it must have been for a first date! In my defense there was only one show playing each night in the one-screen theater.

Another side benefit of working there was getting to explore the building. The area where we kept a few things like the letters for the marquee was in the basement. There was a little door in the side of the men’s room that led to an area with a dirt floor. You couldn’t stand up so we more or less hunched over to get around. There was one part that had a trench where you could stand up. It led under the theater to a series of rooms underneath and behind the stage. I believe it was used as rooms for vaudeville entertainers at one time. We went behind the screen while a movie was playing. We goofed around a little dancing and acting as if we were in the movie. Everything was reversed and quite loud.

I think it was the Knights of Columbus lodge that was located above the theater. Once we managed to get upstairs and roam around looking at everything. There were knight’s armor, spears and shields. Cool!

I believe the theater was owned by Paul and Thomas Kerrigan. They also built the HiWay Drive in a few miles west of town in Fountain Springs. The drive in was completed in the spring of 1950. All three theaters are gone with the Garden being torn down in 1968 and a Hess gas station was opened on the corner. Now, the gas station is gone too.

Sheppo’s Furnace
I shoveled coal at the blond brick house owned by the Sheppo’s, out in the Altamont area of town. They had a stoker furnace and I had to keep the hopper full of coal. Man that was a dirty job. The coal dust in the coal bin was horrible. It took me about 15 minutes to fill the hopper but I was blowing black snot (excuse me) for hours. I did let the hopper get empty and the furnace went out once and caught hell for it. In the winter it meant three trips out there by foot. It was uphill both ways, oh wait, that’s the part I tell my kids!

I never talked to Mrs. Sheppo until Saturday, payday. I rang the bell and she buzzed me in. There was a long staircase and she stood at the top and tossed a fifty cent coin down to me, my week’s pay.

Simple Things

Telephone

Our phone number was 122. That was it. This was before dial phones and you had to tell the operator what number you wanted. We were the lucky ones to have a single family line. I think the Shadel’s and Davis’ had a "J" or an "R" after it indicating it was a party line. I’ve been there when some friends were listening in on the other party’s conversation. Can you imagine something like that today?

Flag Flyers
I never had Blue Swede shoes but I had my white buck "Flag Flyers" with the tongue that flipped up to open so you could put your foot in and the flip it down to close. Simplicity at it’s best! I remember going to a shoe store on Leigh Avenue down by the Victoria Theater. They had an x-ray machine that you put your foot into so you and your parents could see if the shoe fit properly. Penny loafers were big back then. I think just about everyone had a pair at one time or another.

Frackville train station shortly before being
torn down.

Block Parties
I loved going to the block party at the train station across the street from the Good Will Fire Hose Company on Oak street. Ah, bean soup and bleenies! I may have one of the last series of pictures taken before the train station was torn down and moved. There were plenty of other great block parties at churches and fire houses. And that was just those in our town. They are just as popular today as when I was growing up.

 

American Legion Pool

This was not a pool hall or a swimming pool but rather a daily lottery. People would pay 10 cents to get a circular chip about the size of a half-dollar. They had numbers on each one that corresponded to a numbered line on the sheet where your name and address was written. Then, you put the chip in a big barrel that was spun round and round at 9:00 PM every night. A lucky person got to draw one number and whoever’s name was on the sheet next to that number won a percentage of the pot for the night up to the maximum of $150. The person drawing the number got a buck or two from the winners. Kids used to hang around a after the drawing and race to the house that won to tell them they "won the pool." They would be rewarded with a tip for being the bearer of the news. The next day the winner would go up to collect.

One night, Joe’s Pool Hall was closing a bit early. It was just a few minutes before 9 PM and I was walking home past the American Legion Pool. I had just one dime in my pocket so I decided to "play the pool." I was the last number in that the barrel so I waited for the wining number to be drawn. I couldn’t believe my ears when they called my number. No one else could believe that the last number would win either.

Normally I would have gone back the next day to collect but I couldn’t wait. I took all of the winnings, the full $150 that night, mostly coins, in a brown paper bag and ran home. We had to be home by the time the fire house horn stopped blowing at 9 PM. There were nine blasts, once for each hour. I ran so fast I because I knew I was late. I was so excited, I stumbled and fell in the parlor and the money spilled all over.

I can tell you the exact date I won because I deposited the money the very next day. I still have the savings account book. It was November 4, 1957. I used the money to go to the Bohard’s Store on the corner of Frack Street and Lehigh Avenue to buy a suit for graduation. It was black with a pink flecks pattern and a pink knit tie. That’s what I’m wearing in my graduation picture.

Savings Account?

Just thought I’d mention my savings account story. I opened a savings account at the First National Bank of Frackville and deposited $5 on January 4, 1956. I quickly followed that with a $1 deposit on the 19th. Successive deposits of $6, $5.50, and $5.50 gave me a grand total of $23 by February 28, 1956.

Something must have happened because on March 9, I withdrew $22 leaving me with $1! Then, no more activity for 3 months until I deposited $4. Six months later, I added $4 more and quickly followed with $5 for a total of $14. Guess what, something happened again, and I took out $10, followed quickly by taking out $3, leaving me with, you guessed it, $1 on February 18, 1957.

A pattern was developing which continued for a long time. That $1 sat in the bank until I hit the local lottery six months later in November. I deposited $120 for a grand total of $121! On February 28, 1958 I drew out $120 to buy my graduation suit leaving $1.

There were a few more deposits and withdrawals and when I left for the Navy I took out all that was remaining except for, can you guess, yep, $1. That dollar has been there now for almost 54 years!

Sheeny Man

Do you remember the "sheeny man?" I do and it was kind of interesting to see him. I seem to recall he had a horse-drawn wagon when he went up and down the alley between streets yelling "rags and old iron" over and over again. We would save up a pile and when we heard his bell we would run out to the alley behind our house with our booty. There wasn’t much of a reward but I still found it interesting.

My sister has a different memory. She thinks the term sheeny was derogatory in some way – maybe associated with a particular ethnic group or something. Her recollections are: "Mom told me a young child that if I didn’t listen, she was going to sell me to the sheeny man. That scared the dickens out of me, so it usually worked." She recalls "I remember that the sheeny man had an old truck that came into the alleys and he had all kinds of 'junk.' I remember that he bought things too, like old material (rags) and metal. I remember that his appearance was frightening and I remember 'hiding' whenever he came around our yard. I really was afraid that he would take me away. Does anybody else remember being disciplined with threats of being sold to the 'sheeny man'?"

Gampsy

Grandpa "Gampsy" Smarowsky

Albert "Gampsy" Smarowsky was my maternal grandfather. He lived with us during a couple of periods during my years in Frackville. He was a coal miner. He had pieces of coal embedded in his hands from working in the mines. These were not strip mines but rather they were tunnels dug deep in the ground. He told me of people being killed in a collapse. He smoked Lucky Strike cigarettes and I remember him coughing a lot. The combination of black lung disease and smoking finally killed him. UPDATE: Recently I found his death certificate online which stated the cause of death as bladder cancer.

Gampsy on the back porch. I'm sitting

on the ground on the left.

After living somewhere else for a while, Gampsy came back to live with us and that’s when I have the fondest memories of him. One day Gampsy gathered my sister Shirley, a neighbor Bea Davis, and me in the back yard and made an offer we couldn’t refuse. There were always plenty of weeds in our yard since mother nature had complete control over what grew there. One of the most plentiful weeds was plantain, better known as pigtails to us. "I’ll give you each five cents for every pigtail you dig up and put in this basket," Gampsy said, holding a bushel basket out in front of him. I don’t remember how many we picked but the basket was quite full and Gampsy kept his promise. The picture shows him sitting on the back porch around this time.

For a short time I remember sharing the same room with Gampsy. My brother Jimmy was a toddler and was still sleeping in my parent’s bedroom. Gampsy and I were in the back bedroom. That didn’t last long and I believe he moved up to the attic when my brother Jimmy and I started sharing the same bedroom. The bedroom was very small and did not have a closet. The few clothes we had were kept in a wardrobe in one corner. I remember the suit I wore to church hung on the back of the attic door. It was the only suit so I wore it every Sunday to church. I hated that suit because it was heavy wool and since then I can’t stand wool clothes touching my skin.

Pool table set up in the dining room. I'm racking
the balls while my brother watches.

Gampsy spent a lot of his youth in pool halls. He gave my brother Jimmy and me a pool table for Christmas. From the picture it looks like it was around 1951. I spent many hours at the local pool halls during my high school years.

Gampsy had a knack of being able to make everything better. It didn’t matter if it was a broken toy or a broken spirit, he could fix it.

I last saw him working at Paul’s Bar on South Lehigh avenue. My brother said he was working just for room and board. I visited him in 1962 shortly before he died. I went down to the bar and was talking to him when his boss yelled to him to go to the basement and tap another keg. He was 73 but still stocky and could handle a keg of beer pretty well.

Both of my grandparents are buried in the cemetery at Fountain Springs. Their gravestone is easy to find. It is right alongside highway 61 next to the first telephone pole on the right after making the turn at the bottom of the hill going toward Ashland, very near the Ashland Hospital.

Friends

Harry Shadel

Harry was one of my best friends. He had a 1949 red Ford convertible that wasn’t in the best of shape and Harry had no money to fix it up. The car was missing a few hub caps and I remember my mother saying "Don’t ride in Harry’s car, the wheels are going to fall off his car." This was because she could see the lug nuts! The convertible top, originally equipped with a motor to open and close it, had long since stopped working. We had to manually operate it but I never gave it a second thought. I also remember the battery wouldn’t hold a charge. Harry always parked it so it would be facing in the direction of a downhill. We would push it to get it started moving down the hill, jump in and Harry would pop the clutch and we were off and running! Harry didn’t have much money for gas either. I remember going out to a gas station in the Altamont and buying 50 cents worth. Now back then gas was probably 25 to 30 cents a gallon. I didn’t take a lot of trips in his car but I did go to the Bloomsburg Fair with him once, sans apple cider!

Once Harry was asked to drive Mrs. Shadel’s car, a little two-door coupe, down to the store so she could get home. I went along for the ride. Harry couldn’t stand the way his mother drove – very slow and overly cautious – maybe not in her mind, but in Harry’s, it was painful to ride with her. Mrs. Shadle wanted to drive her own car back because she couldn’t stand the way Harry drove – too fast and without caution! Anyhow, once we passed the old Hi-Way Drive-In Theater, the hill to Frackville was dead ahead. Mrs. Shadel kept going about 25 mph as she always did, and Harry was having a conniption. "Mom, you have to drive faster to get a running start to get up the hill" he said. She would have nothing to do with that and we proceeded up the hill at a slow speed. Of course we quickly lost any semblance of "speed" and after down shifting, we went so slow you could almost walk faster. Maybe not, but it seemed like it then.

Although Harry was one year older than me we remained friends until the end. He joined the Navy, and like me, he couldn’t wait to get discharged. One of my favorite pictures is of both of us standing in front of our house all dressed in our uniforms. The funny thing is, Harry is in his Summer whites and I was in my Winter blues!

Every time I returned to town I’d be sure to look him up. Harry drove truck like my father and they shared a few experiences so Dad kept me informed on what was going on in his life. Harry died a few years ago. I miss him.

Bea Davis
 
When we first moved from Ashland to Frackville I was about two years old. The first house we lived in was the house at 140 South Second Street, right next door to the Davis home. My sister and Bea became good friends and are still in touch to this day. 

Bea and I were also friends and I tell everyone that this picture is one of me and my first girl friend.

I did not recall this next story happening but Bea told me about it at a recent reunion and my sister confirmed it. We were playing in the back yard and there was an electric wire that was pretty low between the Davis and McNalis, house. The grass was wet and apparently I grabbed it and couldn’t let go. My brother Jim grabbed my shoulder and he stuck to me. It isn’t clear how many more grabbed on before we were able to break the circuit and we all fell on the ground. My sister doesn’t  remember who all was hurt but my brother had his hands burned. We were all pretty lucky.

George Hoffman
 
One of my earliest friends was George Hoffman. He live about a block and a half down Second street. We played together a lot. I remember going down to his back porch early in the morning and  instead of knocking I’d yell “George, can you come out to play?”  He was a little on the mischievous side and I went right along with him. I can’t remember why we wanted some matches once but we had no money and decided to lift them from a grocery store. I’m pretty certain they wouldn’t have sold them to us anyhow. I still have a guilt trip about this but never told anyone, ever. 

Part of the Anthony family split off from the small store on our block. They opened in a store that I think was an IGA. It was on Oak Street between Third Street and Fourth Street. We walked in and started walking the aisles looking for matches. We found them  and I put a small box in my pocket. We proceeded to walk out of the store but must have looked guilty as sin because I had my hands in my pockets. We got outside the door and George Anthony came up to the window, he knocked on it and asked us to come back inside. Our goose was cooked for sure. I discovered I had a hole in my pants pocket and was able to push the matches our and down my pants leg so they landed on the sidewalk outside the store. We went back inside and George said “What do you have in your pockets?” I was really lucky that day because in my other pocket I have a rubber ball we were playing catch with earlier. I took the ball out and showed it to him. He seemed satisfied but I think he knew we were up to no good. We went back outside, picked up the matches and ran as fast as we could. These are the little things you do growing up and feel sorry for later in life. Sorry George!

We remained good friends up to third grade. George’s father took a new job and the family moved to Levittown. I never saw him again. 
 
Louis
 
St. John’s Polish National Church was at the corner of Second and Oak Streets. The priest’s son was named Louis. I can’t remember their last name. After George Hoffman and his family moved I became good friends with Louis. We played for hours in their back yard next to the alley. We made up games and had a really good time. Once again, my best friend and his family moved when his father was transferred to another church.

John Sabol
 
John lived down the street next to Frank Prenetta’s house. His nick name was “Sib” and he lived with his father and older brother. They had a grapevine in the back yard next to the garage. I remember crawling up and sitting on the roof of the garage gorging on grapes.
John had a BB gun which was absolutely forbidden in our house. I couldn’t even tell my parents I was playing with one. We would go in the basement and set up bottles and cans for target practice.
 
Brother

When I was born my older sister Shirley always said “That’s my brother” when asked who I was. The nickname Brother stuck with me among close friends and family for many years. I was well into my 30s before my parents called me Glenn and frankly, it sounded kind of odd. Bea Davis said she didn’t realize that my name wasn’t brother until we started school!

To be continued:  Other friends and stories to be added later.