Exploring Western Massachusetts: October 2008

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Westfield's Traffic Problem & Other Items From 1938

Westfield is a great little city. But let's face it, the burg has issues. Traffic issues to be precise. Is it any comfort for the weary commuter to know that the monkey of motoring mayhem has been riding on the back of many a generation of Westfielder? Imagine the interruptus horribulus that must have plagued the town in 1900 or so, when North Elm Street was dug out to flow under the railroad tracks, thereby avoiding the constant interruption of the lowered crossing-gates for train traffic that had been frustrating through-traffic for years. Things apparently being shorter back then, the engineers didn't scoop quite enough dirt from the new underpass and, as a result, its 11'5" height has been a long-time snare for many a truck driver caught unawares.

Traffic issues, specifically on-street parking habits, were also on folks minds in 1938, according to this article (following two images) in the January 28th issue of The Westfield Advertiser:

Am I the only person who thinks that the line, "The city is getting an unfavorable reputation abroad from visitors who find themselves in trouble here." Is a little over the top? I mean, was some guy in Marseilles overheard complaining about Westfield traffic? Nevertheless, the article is interesting. But the intersection of Main and Elm Streets is still a nightmare for pedestrians. It helps to wear running shoes.

Believe it or not, this newspaper came from inside the walls of my parent's house, put there by some cold soul who had come before them for its insulating properties, however meager they may have been. In 1938 times were hard. Seventy years later, the shadow of those uncertain days threatens to overtake us once more. Here are some more scans from The Westfield Advertiser and others...

More Westfield news of 1938.

A & P was a popular grocery chain in the Western Massachusetts area for decades. During high school, I worked at the now-closed Westfield A & P, which by then had moved to 47 Franklin Street from the Main Street location shown in the advertisement. I can still smell the fresh-ground 'Eight O'Clock Coffee' whirring in the big red grinders stationed at the end of each checkout counter. Mmm...

One of A & P's competitors, First National Stores.

I can remember my mother using Vick's Vapo Rub on us when my brothers or I were sick, but I consider myself extremely fortunate to have appeared on the scene long after the Cod Liver Oil cure craze. Then again, I do remember Fletcher's Castoria...ugh.

Headstones, heels, heat and haulers. Just three numbers away.

Anyone remember sock-sliding on just-waxed wood floors fresh with the smell of Johnson Paste Wax?

From pitchforks to pianos, books to bassinettes: What a selection!

Silk for a hundred cents.

Snuggies, flannelette pajamas, blankets: Makes a body feel all warm and toasty.

Mackinaws and mufflers and tailored ties, Jack's was the place to go for men's fashion in Westfield.

Ninety-six ice cubes and delivery for just five bucks down?! (Not to mention the "Super powered Rotorite Unit!") Sold!

Hmmm, a loan on just a signature. Sounds familiar. McWallStreet: 700 Billion (unde)Served.

Buy now, pay later!

Six tube, seven tube, whatever it takes.

Dynotrol II. Cool.

Lest anyone think folks were having fun in 1938, muddling through the dark days of the Great Depression, looking at advertisements in newspapers they're stuffing in the wall for insulation, at things they can't afford, here are a few newspaper front pages from the time. Some of the headlines are as chilling as a Sears Coldspot.

Sometimes you just want to know when the world will ever learn...

The planet abroil.

Precarious as life is, it's always a good idea to keep a little insurance. And to follow the advice of Marcus Aurelius. Peace.

My money talks. It says "Goodbye!"

Yesterday, today - movies are the medicine of the masses.

And who isn't cheered up by a great moving picture or a "Swingtime Revue?"

Or a hilarious comic? Well, hilarious in 1938. Maybe.

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Fiction and Foliage

Lakeside

Clem stood on the bank of the lake. The reds and yellows and pine-tree green triangles and orange oaks of the opposite shore reflected in the darkening surface of the water. Sound traveled effortlessly on the lake at night. Clem learned that long ago, back when his family started coming up summers. He learned to keep his voice down, his thoughts low.

The paddle of a lone kayak dipped rhythmically away, ripples left to make their ruckus on the taut skin of water. The colors danced in the last rays of sunlight. On

shore and on the lake, explosions of quiet fire. A fish broke to Clem's left, under the hanging boughs of the old weeping willow that forever skimmed the shimmering lake with string fingers and marked the boundary of their shoreline to the west. Clem thought about grabbing his fishing pole, but that meant going back inside. He looked at the edge of the soft bank and saw the smooth scrape of mud where Ted had lost his footing earlier and almost slid into the cold water of the lake, only catching himself and his balance at the last moment. Smaller feet than mine, Clem mused, judging from the width of the furrow. Ted had insisted, he had, that everyone pile out and take a long, loving look at the foliage decorating the perimeter of their “little slice of heaven,” as he liked to call it, but the word “foliage” was coming

out “follage,” and Brenda had that look on her face that grew there when Ted had been drinking too much. Or was about to. When he slipped, nervous laughter tightened the night like a wrench. Ted's muddy boat shoes were drying on the porch, next to the cat dish and the rock shaped like a dinosaur egg painted red. When Ted and Clem were boys, Ted convinced Clem to sit on that rock, to see if it would hatch. When their Dad got back from town that night he laughed like hell when Clem told him what he was doing, sitting on the rock on the porch in the dark. Ted was like that growing up.

Clem took a couple of steps out onto the dock. He tried not to make any noise, but he didn't know why. The light was fading from the sky, blue turning slate, the

colors in the water dull burnt versions of their brighter selves. The trees were fluttering their leaves, as if to shake them off, as if they'd had enough of them for now. Some of the leaves were showing their undersides and Clem thought of rain and wondered if it would. Between the spaces of the boards beneath his feet, he caught glimpses of swaying dark water with moments of diamond shine, the light from the house windows starting to stick to the lake. He heard the clattering of the supper dishes in the sink as Brenda and Susan chattered away, their conversation unintelligible to Clem's perception, the distance between him and them just far enough to lend mystery to the mundane. Ted was probably in the good chair, asleep in front of the TV. Clem never wanted to go back in.

He held his breath

and heard the Turnpike hum through the trees, winding its way upward and west through the Berkshires. Clem thought of the people in their cars, going places. Seeing things. The world at seventy-miles an hour. Rest stops and fast food meals, numbered for gypsy convenience. The smell of gasoline, the satisfying click of a gas cap turning home. Change in the console.

Who were these people on the road, burrowing into the cocoon of night? Were they happy? The sound of the highway faded as Clem tried harder to capture it. With concentration, silence. It felt like a moment a fish should jump - a brief escape from its water world - but the lake was silent, too. The women were done with the dishes. The house was silent. Clem hoped they would stay inside.

Mark T. Alamed, Westfield, Mass., October 3, 2008

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Motoring the Mohawk , October 1941

If you're a Western Massachusetts native, or have been hanging around these parts for awhile, chances are pretty good that you have your favorite driving route for fall leaf-peeping. Chances are also pretty good that you think it's a secret: Your very own stretch of color-bursting Sunday stretch of highway. Routes 32 and 32a, 8 and 23, Granville Road to Route 57. The General Henry Knox highway. The Skyline Trail. We won't tell anyone.

By far the easiest way for folks to be helpful to strangers and acquaintances and kind to secret-road locals when it comes to keeping the leaf-peeping traffic flowing smoothly is to direct all inquiries for 'best spots' to the Main Roads. Routes 202, 20, 5 & 10: send them there. Better yet, send everyone up Route 2 to the Mohawk Trail. Businesses and residents on those busy stretches thrive on the out-of-towner traffic meandering along their thoroughfares. Tag sales, farm stands, antique and souvenir shops and restaurants depend on a steady flow of customers during the melancholy season. For some businesses, autumn is the make or break time of the year. It's the least we can do to send the tourists their way. And it frees up our 'secret' spots, too. Who can argue with that?

Here are some photographs from October 1941 taken along the Mohawk Trail by John Collier, who was a master at capturing regular folks doing regular things. Germany had invaded Russia, Japan was laying the final plans for their vicious assault on Pearl Harbor, and the mangy tail of the Depression was curling itself around the country. Still the leaves changed. Still the sluggish streams flowed. Still the colors pleased.

The photographs, as well as their captions, are courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Farm Security Administration - Office of War Information Photograph Collection. I haven't included individual references for each image, because there are just so gosh-darned many of them. Reference information will be supplied if anyone so desires.

Enjoy.

Harvest Highway Run

"Mohawk Trail winding through the Berkshires, Massachusetts"

"The rich and the poor crowded into the Berkshires to enjoy the fall coloring. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Motorcycle club out to enjoy the fall coloring along the Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Members of a motorcycle troupe out to enjoy the fall coloring along the Mohawk Trail through the Berkshires. Massachusetts"

Seasonal Snaps

"Making snapshots along the Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Tourists drive many miles to stand and look at beautiful New England. Mohawk Trails, Massachusetts"

"Children crowded up on the feet of 'Hail to the Sunrise' bronze Indian to have their pictures taken. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Deserted farm house in the Savoy Mountains at the Berkshires. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

Autumn Offerings

"Farmers along the Mohawk Trail depend on the tourist for much of their profit. Massachusetts"

"Apple cider and cherry cider net a clean profit for local farmers along the Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Farmers along the Mohawk Trail depend on the tourist for much of their profit. Massachusetts"

"Melons for sale from farm wagon. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

Fall Fare

"Campers who have come from nearby factory town for Sunday in the autumn woods. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Picnic party from the mill towns enjoys the autumn foliage along the Mohawk Trail in Massachusetts. State-owned park"

"The young and the old joined the pilgrimage into the fall splendor of the Berkshires. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts. State-owned camp and picnic site"

"Picnic party along the Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"All cooking in state-owned picnic site on the Mohawk Trail was done on gas stoves. Massachusetts"

"Cooling beer in stream at state-owned picnic and camping site along the Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

October Activities

"Wishing well: throw your penny in the box and you get your wish. At Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Folks from the cities came up on Sunday to view the fall foliage and read the Sunday paper. Mohawk Trail Picnic Park, Massachusetts"

"Folks from the cities camp up on Mohawk Trail on Sunday to view the fall foliage and read the Sunday paper. Mohawk Trail picnic park, Massachusetts"

"Writing cards home to the 'folks.' Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

Tourist Trinkets

"Shops such as this furnish much of the income for the New England vacation areas. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Hooked rugs and hand weaving are for sale at many stands along the Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Wayside shops sell most anything small and useless. Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"One third of the income from many localities in New England comes out of such souvenir shops on this Mohawk Trail. Massachusetts"

Leaf-Peeper Lodging

"One of the many tourists camps along the Mohawk Trail through the Berkshires. Massachusetts"

"Tourists camps stretch in an endless village along the Mohawk Trail through the Berkshires. Massachusetts"

"A complete home for rent, one night, one week, one month. Tourist camp along Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

"Tourists cabin villages line the roads through the Berkshires' Mohawk Trail, Massachusetts"

To learn more about what the Mohawk Trail offers travelers - including maps, weather and activities - check out mohawktrail.com.

For more Autumn in Franklin County photographs from EWM, visit the post, 'Photographs: A Fall Farm Stand in Franklin County, October, 1941'.

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.