Exploring Western Massachusetts

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Leftovers: Westfield's So's Restaurant Menu

Perhaps in hope of nudging Spring awake, I've recently begun sifting, sorting and scrapping the contents of the assorted accumulated partitions and containers chock full of yesterday that clutter my apartment and mind. Funny what one can find in the hidden recesses of trunks and cellars, attics and memory.

This seventies-era menu from Westfield's famous and much-missed So's Chinese-American restaurant brought thoughts of growing up in Westfield. When Sunday meant the inevitable line of hungry folks snaking out the door of the popular restaurant up Elm Street.

Back when Burger Town (sure, the meat was questionable...but for seventeen cents a burger...) occupied the northwest corner of Orange and Elm and the Donut Shop on the opposite corner was still the Donut Shop. On the way to school, it was daily magic to walk through the warm, heaven-flavored donut steam pumping out of the the wall vent into the cold air of a Westfield winter morning. It was a treat to stop for a donut and hot cocoa. Sometimes there would be change left for penny candy at Rasta's store, which always smelled so good of cigars and tobacco. If one was flush with funds - say fifty cents, or so - a balsa-wood airplane or a Tales from the Crypt comic book or the latest Mad magazine could be had there as well. And empty cigar boxes galore - free for the asking - great for organizing desks and crayons and saving baseball cards and storing things like...well, this menu from simpler days...

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

The Tired Faces of Children: Industrial-Strength Photographs by Lewis W. Hine

Photographer Lewis W. Hine (1874-1940) was hired in 1908 by the National Child Labor Committee (NCLC) and commissioned with documenting the state of child labor in the United States as part of an investigation that led to major changes in federal laws concerning minors in the workplace. Hine spent time photographing child workers in Adams, Springfield, Chicopee Falls and Ludlow, along with other Western Massachusetts locations, and also worked in Boston, Fall River and down the Eastern Seaboard into the Southern states to show the conditions these children endured daily. As illustrated by the choice of photographs, Western Massachusetts in the early days of the 20th century offered much opportunity for the exploitation of child laborers, from farm worker to delivery driver, mill worker to trash picker, candy maker to newspaper boy, kids found work in many fields, usually to help their families who might not survive without the income.

Plucked from the Prints and Photographs Division of the Library of Congress's American Memory Collection, these photographs comprise only a fraction of the web site's Lewis W. Hine image offerings. Photo descriptions are from the NCLC caption cards, with slight modifications for clarity.

Young workers in Berkshire Mills. Adams, Massachusetts. August, 1911.

Candy Workers, Kibbe's Factory. Springfield, Massachusetts. October, 1910.

Joseph Crapo, works in Eclipse Mills. Apparently 13 years old. North Adams, Massachusetts. August, 1911.

Eddie Grimshaw. Ludlow, Massachusetts. November, 1911.

15 year old driver of oil wagon and his 10 year old helper. Springfield, Massachusetts. June 27, 1916.

Eight-year old Jack milking the cows. August 1915. Western Massachusetts, Massachusetts.

Lucy Saunders hitching the team to the horse rake. August 1915. Western Massachusetts, Massachusetts (?).

Bobbie and James. Northampton, Massachusetts. August, 1912.

Scavenger. Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts. June 29, 1916.

Andrew Stefanik, a bobbin boy, works as spare boy. Chicopee, Massachusetts. November, 1911.

Doffers - Boss said 14 and 15 years old. Indian Orchard Cotton Mill. Indian Orchard, Massachusetts. June 29, 1916.

14-year old spinner in Berkshire Cotton Mills. Adams, Massachusetts. July 10, 1916.

Adolescent boy (illiterate) working in cotton mill. Easthampton, Massachusetts. August, 1912.

Two 15 year old boys working for Westinghouse Electric Co. - going home at 5 P.M. Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts. June 29, 1916.

Crossing the trestle - 4 P.M. Westfield, Massachusetts. June 28, 1916.

For more Lewis W. Hine photographs of local child laborers, check out the EWM post: Commerce & Industry: The Kibbe Candy Kids (1910)

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.

Photograph LOC Reference URLs:
Top: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+03794))
01: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+02270))
02: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+02275))
03: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+04595))
04: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+02260))
05: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+02436))
06: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+05094))
07: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+00291))
08: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+00302))
09: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+03796))
10: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+05106))
11: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+02432))
12: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+03104))
13: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+03123))
14: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+02627))
15: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+05107))
16: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?pp/nclc:@field(NUMBER+@band(nclc+05103))

More Lewis W. Hine from the Library of Congress: http://www.loc.gov/rr/print/coll/207-b.html

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Westfield's Grant & Besse Clothiers Tradecards

One New Year's resolution here at EWM is to cull through the clutter scattered in ever-multiplying folders and sort the scribbled notes on scraps that sometimes don't make it, found in a pocket of just-washed jeans or tossed in a drawer with an old grocery list. The reason being, of course, is to find forgotten treasure, tucked away for a future post and still gathering dust.

The scans below are just such a find. Generously shared by historian Barbara Shaffer, these images were clipped paper-doll fashion from advertisements for Westfield clothiers, Grant & Besse, located at 94 Elm Street in the Gowdy Block.

For more examples of Grant & Besse advertising trading cards - which tend to be spare-no-expense good as far as cover art - check out offerings at the Paul J. Gutman Library Digital Collection.

And from the Victorian Tradecards section of the Digital Collections of Miami University Library advertising Christmas gifts for 1886 :

http://doyle.lib.muohio.edu/u?/tradecards,1773

http://doyle.lib.muohio.edu/u?/tradecards,1774

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Quabbin Photos: Traces of Man, North Dana

Bricks 'n' stone on the eastern shoreline of North Dana. North Dana was a village of the town of Dana, Massachusetts. The four towns of Dana, Prescott, Enfield and Greenwich - located in the Swift River Valley - were flooded for the creation of Quabbin Reservoir, which is part of Boston's public drinking water supply.

Overgrown entrance to the former Wade family property in Petersham.

The old community well for the village of North Dana. This well, located on the hill above the North Dana's village proper, is about eight feet in diameter and very deep. It provided gravity-fed water to the village below.

Eye bolt lagged in stone on the western shoreline of North Dana.

Cellar hole near Gate 37 in Petersham.

Lag bolts sunk in stone near Methodist Point on the southern shoreline of North Dana. The flooded village's Methodist church was located just offshore from this area. Mount L is in the background.

The foundation of the former homestead of the Hale family in North Dana.

Leaf springs uncovered at low water on the eastern shoreline of North Dana. The flooding of the Swift River Valley commenced on August 14, 1939. On June 22, 1946, Quabbin was filled to capacity (412 billion gallons) for the first time.

The Monson Turnpike - running along the eastern shoreline of North Dana - looking south.

Some of the asphalt of the old Monson Turnpike road remains though decades have passed. This segment traverses the eastern shoreline of the village of North Dana on its way to Greenwich, Enfield and Belchertown and other points south.

An old car fender battles the passing of years and march of nature in the woods of North Dana.

An old water pipe on the southern shoreline of North Dana.

Bits of broken glass, china and brick accompany this old water supply pipe in the mix of memory along the southern shoreline of North Dana. Terrain-wise, North Dana became a peninsula with the flooding of the Swift River Valley.

An old telephone pole lurks in the trees incognito on the southern shoreline of North Dana.

North Dana's Rohan family once made their home here. Some of the abandoned foundations encountered in exploration look solid enough to build on still.

A well north of the Rohan home in North Dana.

The end of the line. Old Route 21 fades away to the south on the eastern shoreline of North Dana.

For more on Quabbin Reservoir, take a look at the EWM exclusive The Quabbin Chronology: A Timeline of the Swift River Valley, or visit EWM's The Quabbin Page, a collection of dozens of Quabbin-related links.

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.

A Christmas Wish

C elebrate

H umanity

R ationally

I n

S incere

T hanksgiving

M utual understanding

A nd

S pirituality

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to All!

Saturday, December 6, 2008

The Federal Writers' Project: Edward O'Neil, Brookfield, Massachusetts

Traveling a bit east today and in light of the season, here is a story of Christmas-past from the Depression-era Works Progress Administration's Federal Writers' Project. The project was part of a government-backed effort to put writers to work during hard times by setting them to the task of capturing everyday Americans' life stories, or parts thereof. Material from the project can be found in abundance at the Library of Congress web site in the American Life Histories: Manuscripts from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936 - 1940 section.

The story isn't exactly heart-warming - Edward O'Neil is downright irascible - but there is a certain poignancy to his memories, as there is to all of ours.

* * *

TITLE: Old Irish Mill Worker - Edward O'Neil

WRITER: Louise G. Bassett

ADDRESS: Brookfield, Massachusetts

DATE: November 8, 1938

SUBJECT: Living Lore

Edward O'Neil was born in Brookfield, Massachusetts, the son of Daniel O'Neil, an Irish immigrant and Sarah Pritchard, daughter of a foreign missionary. Daniel O'Neil a railroad worker and farmer was a hard bitten man with little education and a decided contempt for any on who had. Mrs. O'Neil was gentle and sweet, but completely terrified by her domineering husband. For years they lived in a small house in an isolated part of Brookfield. Edward O'Neil has always lived in Brookfield. When very young he refused to go to school and no one in the family made him. He has never done much work - odd jobs now and again, but has depended on his hardworking sisters to keep him. He scorns any part in the community affairs except to criticize - something he does well and often.

His only "special skills" are negative - a large and colorful vocabulary of cuss words and a flaming temper which he does not attempt to control. He is tall and rugged with keen blue eyes and a voice that can be heard all over town. He says he is eighty-three years old, in spite of the town records which list his birth as November, 1858. The town records are wrong, of course.

Topic: An Old Irishman tells about Christmas

Edward O'Neil, who lives on the old North Brookfield road, is one of Brookfield's oldest but most vigorous inhabitants. I met him the other day just as he was finishing a five mile walk, his hands full of bitter-sweet, lovelier than I have ever seen around here. "Oh, where did you get it," I exclaimed. "I won't tell you," he snapped at me," if I did - you'd tell some one else - then they'd tell someone and purtty soon every fool in town would be goin' there to get some an' there wouldn't be none left. I like it myself an' I'm goin' to keep it fer myself long's I kin. I'll give you a piece though, long's you want some so bad." He selected a long branch with care. "I'm saving this for Christmas" he added. "What was the first Christmas you actually remember?" I asked. In his faded eyes I saw a far off dreamy look. "The first Christmas I remember was when I was four years old. The reason I remember it was because my mother gave me a big lump of brown sugar with a few drops of peppermint on it. I nibbled at that sugar a little bit at a time all day long and I can taste that peppermint to this day. You see, we were sort of pioneer people and we didn't have much - nor not much to get anything with. Every winter in my early days was hard times. "The only other present my mother had to give that Christmas was a quarter of a dried orange peel and she give it to my sister to put in her bureau drawer to make her clothes smell sweet. My father didn't know much about Christmas. He'd been brought up by the Indians. His parents had been killed by redskins and he lived with the Indians until he was nearly twenty. My mother's parents were missionaries and of course she knew all about Christmas.

"I don't remember much about the Christmas's that came after that one when I got the lump of sugar with the peppermint on it, until I was twelve years old when my father gave me six boughten fish hooks. We made most of our fish hooks by forein' 'em ourselves before the fire. About that time my father got to flat boatin' down the river. Some time he'd be gone three or four months and when he came back he'd bring back things like store clothes and boots, and once he brought me a tie and then my mother'd hide 'em away and keep 'em and give 'em to us for Christmas. And from September 'till Christmas us kids'd have lots of fun huntin' around over the house and wonderin' what we was goin' to get.

"When I was fifteen my mother gave me a rifle of my own for Christmas. My father'd got it in Boston and this, with the exception of the one when I got the peppermint sugar, was my best Christmas.

"I was a grown man almost twenty-one before I ever saw a Christmas tree. A German family moved near us and they had a tree every year. They dipped the little candles themselves, colored 'em red with poke berry ink and fastened 'em on the trees some-how with wild turkey ribs. I never'd seen anything so purty in my life as those Christmas trees. We had to work awful hard in them days but we had our fun same as we do now. Well, if I don't run acrost you again, I wish you Merry Christmas." And away he went, being stopped at every half block by someone who wanted to know, "Where did you get that lovely bitter sweet?"

But he only snapped "I won't tell you."

* * *

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.

More Federal Writers' Project on EWM.