Rug Making

My mother made a large number of braided rugs which were scattered about my parent’s home, our relatives’ homes, and our own home in Huntsville and in Jenkintown.

Braided rugs have a long history dating back to the Colonial era. Braided rugs were also referred to as “rag rugs” for obvious reasons. The popularity of the “arts and crafts” movement in the 1890-1910 period stimulated a renewed interest in this craft. Braided rugs were popular around the woolen mills of the Northeast in the early 1900s, utilizing the cast-offs of the local textile industry.

I don’t know what prompted my mother to take up the craft of rug making but it might have been suggested by a good supply of starting material. Mom’s rug making was made possible by the fact that my Aunt Gertrude worked for many years as a seamstress at a mattress manufacturer (Serta, I think). Aunt Gertrude would bring remnants of mattress cover fabric to my Mom. Mattress fabric is very tough material and creates rugs that are practically indestructible.

The first step in braided rug making is to prepare the strands that will be braided. Mom would cut the remnant fabric into strips about 2 inches wide. These strips are folded in two steps to make braiding strands. The first step is to fold each strip edge in to the center of the strip. Then, the strip is folded on its center. In this way, the fabric edges, which are prone to unravel, are incased within the folds. The bi-folded strand is then ironed to make the folds stable. The remnant strands are sewn together to make one continuous length. Three such strands are needed before braiding can begin.

Braiding of the strands is the next step. The strands often were not made from the same remnant material. Hence, there is the opportunity to select combinations of three remnant sources to create rugs with different color designs. Here the judicious selection of contrasting or complimentary colors ultimately determines the aesthetics of the rug. All three strands of fabric could be the same color, or two the same, or none the same. However, the selection of the color choice of the strands was often primarily determined on what was available from Aunt Gertrude at the time.

To start braiding, Mom would tie the three selected strands and secure them under a heavy rock* on the table, and proceed to braid in the conventional manner. As the braid became long enough to approach her body, she would lift the rock and secure a finished section under the rock. She would proceed in this manner until it was judged that the braid length was sufficient to complete a rug. This braiding process often took many days, and depending on other activities, might be spread out over a month’s time.

Finally, having enough material for one rug, the assembly process begins. The braids are snaked together and secured by heavy butcher’s twine using a strong, flat crocheting needle that weaves the twine between the loops of the braids. The twine becomes virtually invisible. The length of the first straight braid ultimately determines the size and shape of the rug, in this case an oval rug. If a circular rug is desired, there is no first straight braid; the braids start making a circle from the very beginning.

We had one braided rug in Jenkintown which eventually was relegated to the basement and then to the garage. But, alas, when the garage was converted into an artist studio the light orange braided rug, still sturdy and strong but now quite soiled and water stained, it had to be discarded after some 40 years of ‘rugged’ service.

* This is a very special rock: This was a dark grey rock I picked up on the shore of Lake Erie because of its near perfectly round shape, about the size of a grape fruit, and because it contained a cream colored vein in a delicate bird’s foot design.

Fishing

I don’t know the year but I was old enough to remember Dad saying that he was going to buy a fishing pole and that we would go fishing. Could it be that the idea of fishing would bring in a nutritious source of food to the Depression era dinner table, or was it that Dad just decided that fishing would be a good sport? As it evolved, fishing became a regular part of our family’s life, not only as a sport but as a frequent supply of food for the table.

Aside from some occasional forays to various fishing spots all around western New York state and adjacent Canada, including Buffalo’s own Delaware Park Lake, there were a few places that became regular favorites. The most favored was Sturgeon Point on Lake Erie south of Buffalo. Another was Port Colborne, Canada, at the southern terminus of the Welland Canal on Lake Erie. A third place was Port Maitland, Canada, at the mouth of the Grand River where it empties into Lake Erie. Fishing expeditions taking longer than a day included a vacation on a small lake near Kingston, Ontario and a few days on the Georgian Bay off of Lake Huron.

Sturgeon Point
In those days, the interstate system was not in place so that to go to Sturgeon Point, about 25 miles from our east Buffalo home, required driving through south Buffalo, through the southern suburb of Lackawanna, and then into the countryside along Lake Erie shore. As a youngster, the trip to the fishing grounds was always filled with fascination and anticipation of catching fish. The route through south Buffalo went through the industrial area consisting of all sorts of manufacturing plants but particularly of chemical companies such as Allied Chemical and National Aniline. In the days before there was much attention to pollution control, the air was always heavy with nauseous odors. Steaming discharges flowed out of pipes from the plants into the Buffalo River, a serpentine stream crossed several times in route, which eventually emptied into the Niagara River. To this youngster, rather than off-putting, these experiences were a source of curiosity and wonderment.

Approaching the shores of Lake Erie as it necks down to become the Niagara River, there was a line-up of gigantic grain elevators that would be filled with the harvest of cereal products from the bountiful Midwest. Next came the massive industrial behemoths of the Iron Age, the blast furnaces of Lackawanna Steel and Bethlehem Steel. Interspersed among the black belching smoke stacks, there were massive piles of coal brought in by train from the Pennsylvania coal fields, and gigantic piles of iron ore brought in by lake freighters from the Lake Superior iron ore mines. Finally there were stretches of slag piles, the waste product of steel making, some of it still glowing orange hot, just dumped by special rail cars coming from the blast furnace buildings.

If we were coming home from fishing at dusk or at night (night fishing is another story), one could get a better view of the red glowing furnaces, spewing out sparks, steam and smoke. At the time, these seemed like some chaotic inferno, symbols of the throbbing energy of the Industrial Age. Now, with images of the space age in our minds, they might be described more like the blast-off fury of a space rocket.

But now the space age is passé. In the 21st century, with the Lackawanna steel industry shuttered, their structures have been demolished and replaced by brown fields. The area has been turned into a wind farm, the turbine towers as tall as the smoke stacks they replaced, taking advantage of the breezes that are constantly blowing off Lake Erie.

At Sturgeon Point, a small fleet of rental row boats was sheltered by an inverted L-shaped sea wall. Early on, Dad and my Uncle Joe, who often accompanied us, would row a boat out into the lake to a spot where they believed the fish to be. Many boats seemed to agree that this was a good spot because there developed a small community of boats dotted around the same general area. There would be an exchange of chatter among the boats about how well fishing was going today: “How are they biting?” – “What bait are you using?” When the catch was slow or non-existent, there became a certain restlessness among the community of boats. One by one, they would wander a few hundred yards to the left or right, or head out farther into the lake.

Later on Dad purchased an outboard motor that would be attached to the stern of the rented boat. This was a two horsepower (HP) Johnson Marine outboard motor. In a few seasons this was judged to be too slow so Dad upgraded to a 5 HP Johnson outboard. Today, as a casual observer, I have never seen a Johnson outboard, or for that matter an Evinrude which was a good competitor of Johnson in those days. Today the outboard motor market is totally dominated by Yamaha.

Dad constructed a sort of saw horse stand that supported the outboard motor when not in use, especially through the winter season. As the summer fishing season approached, it needed to be serviced and tested to make sure it would start easily. This was done by attaching the motor to a wine barrel that my family had used to make wine years previously. I was instructed to clean out the barrel of accumulated leaves, and to fill it with water in preparation for testing the motor on the week end.

Port Colborne, Ontario
The Welland canal cuts through the Niagara escarpment, thus allowing shipping on the inner Great Lakes to bypass Niagara Falls and to join Lake Ontario. Eventually, the Saint Lawrence Seaway opened up lake shipping all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. The actual fishing location at Port Colborne was on a dock on one of the many side channels near the canal that served as transfer points for lake shipping. The particular dock from which we were accustomed to fish was adjacent to a grain elevator. The surrounding area was rather dismal so this was the least favorite of mine. However, this seemed to be a place where the probability of a good catch was high. I wondered why this was so: It was explained that the water was very deep near the dock to accommodate large lake freighters. Secondly, during the unloading of grain from the holds of the ship, there inevitably was a loss of some grain, blown by the wind, into the surrounding water. Consequently, there were always fish in the vicinity anticipating the largess of a good feeding not unlike tropical fish anticipating the sprinkling of food from above in a home aquarium. Hopefully, the fish would be satisfied with our bait in the absence of a freighter unloading.

Port Maitland

Port Maitland, near Dunnville, Ontario and about fifty miles from home, featured a long concrete pier with a lighthouse at the end. The pier sheltered the estuary of the Grand River as it empties into Lake Erie. On the left side looking toward the lighthouse is the Grand River, while on the right is the sandy beach of the Lake. For a youngster, these features made Part Maitland a fun place. The pier provides an excellent fishing experience on either the river side or the lake side. The lighthouse at the end and the pile of large limestone rocks at the end of the pier provided lots of possibilities for clambering about down to the water’s edge for someone whose fishing attention span was not as great as an adult’s. The beach on the lake side also offered opportunity for playing in the sand as well as for swimming.

Why is such a place such a good fishing spot?: Just as at Port Colborne, fish come out of the lake to hover near the estuary in anticipation of food being washed down the river from the interior. Indeed, a greater proportion of fish caught here were often the larger species than the pan fishes more often caught in the lake itself.

Kingston, Ontario
Virtually all our fishing trips to the places mentioned above would be called day trips. There were a couple of exceptions that I remember: In 1939 my parents and my Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Joe rented a cabin on a lake in Canada The place was always referred to as “Kingston” but Kingston, Ontario is on Lake Ontario, and I specifically recall a cabin on a small lake. It must have been that Kingston was the nearest city and the lake was somewhat inland from Kingston proper.

My Dad and Uncle Joe would get up early to fish and by noon would return to the cabin with a large catch. Our family album had several photographs of various combinations of my Mother, Father, Aunt Gertrude, Uncle Joe and me standing by the cabin, showing off strings of freshly caught fish. We ate fish for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

In the afternoon, I was permitted to use the boat on my own to row about the lake. This is where I learned my seamanship.

Fishes caught

Yellow Perch	Great Northern Pike	Sheephead

We caught a wide variety of fish in the 1930s and 1940s. But by the 1950s the species mix began to change and catches were less certain and diminished in size. The most common fishes caught in Lake Erie were yellow perch and rock bass. More prized because of their larger size were blue pike and the less common yellow pike (also know as walleye pike or pickerel). The most prized of all was the great northern pike. Another large fish was sheepshead (also known as fresh water drum) of great interest to me not only because this fish is a strong fighter but because of a bony disc about the size of a dime located in its head. In season, small mouth bass were also common. Less common were bull heads (related to cat fish), but a delight to catch because of their sweet meat.

Epilogue Part 1
These stories are recorded here to tell how important fishing was in the life of my father and my family as told through the eyes of a youngster. As mentioned above, fishing in the waters around Buffalo was reasonably successful with a wide variety of fish being caught. However, starting in the 1950s, more and more frequently we would come home empty handed. By the late 1960s Dad just about gave up on fishing. The lake had become polluted. For reasons unknown the lamprey population exploded in the late 1940s and 1950s and this decimated the local fish population. This was a great disappointment to Dad.

Epilogue Part 2
Without any proof, I would like to speculate that the experience of a youngster sitting in a boat with only your father and possibly also with your uncle, essentially isolated from the distractions present on land must have had some developmental effect. Sometimes, after prolonged silence watching the gentile rolling of the waves, occasionally interrupted by a dialogue about how the world works, or when the catching is good and there became a competition about who could catch the most fish, or when the catching was not good and there was finally a realization that we would go home empty handed, -- all this must have an effect on an impressionable youth.

The repeated trips through the industrial area of Buffalo to the fishing grounds must have had an effect too. The fascination of what was must be going on inside those stinking buildings, the sense of power exuding from those monstrous steel plants created a desire for participation that I now attribute to my eventual career in science. It is that same process, but in another context, that prompted Barack Obama to comment “that such moments accumulate and embed themselves in a child’s character becoming a part of their soul.” * My Dad could have made a different choice of sport in the 1930’s and perhaps the outcome on my life option points might have been the same or different. There is no way to tell. But in any event I am totally content with the way things turned out.

* Barack Obama, Audacity of Hope Vantage Books, N.Y., 2006, p. 413.

Readers of this blog may also be interested in other fishing related posts:

• Fishing: Ice Fishing
• Fishing: Casting
• Fishing: Night Crawlers
• Fishing: Sinkers
  
  

Fishing: Ice Fishing

In the Buffalo, New York area, the fishing season is limited to the months between late Spring and early Fall with one exception – mid Winter. When Lake Erie freezes over to a depth of more than a foot, ice fishing becomes possible. My Dad, while not as devoted to ice fishing as to fishing from a boat or pier, was an occasional participant. Ice fishing is physically more challenging than regular fishing because of the necessity of carrying much more equipment than is needed for regular fishing over a sometimes irregular surface. To solve this problem, Dad constructed an ice fishing sled. It consisted essentially of a large, rectangular wooden box mounted on runners with a handle at the back for someone to help push while the lead person pulled the sled. The box held all the fishing tackle and bait, plus a variety of equipment necessary for ice fishing. For example, it was necessary to have a heavy ice pick to create a hole in the ice, an ice scoop to clear out the hole of ice debris, a small charcoal grill and charcoal, several tall, wooden poles that would be implanted around the ice hole to support a heavy canvas screen to create a cozy shelter against prevailing winds and, not to forget, Thermoses of coffee and maybe some hot soup.

Fishing: Casting

In ice fishing, casting rods are not needed because the fish lines are dropped straight down through the hole in the ice. That contrasts to fishing off a pier or from the side of a river bank. In these cases, it is necessary to cast the bait or fish lure some distance. Even in fishing from a boat, casting is often useful. A lure is cast from the boat and is slowly reeled in to simulate the movement of a bug or injured fish. Some fish lures have a small, curved disc at the front where the lure is attached to the line that causes the lure to cycle up and down in a sinusoidal fashion as it is reeled in. The hope is that this will attract the attention of a fish below. This technique is used in an attempt to catch larger species of fish which tend to be more aggressive. Hence, good casting technique is an advantage to placing the lure a good distance from the fisherman, or to place the lure in a specific spot of water that should be particularly attractive to fish such as proximity to rocks, or sheltered by overhanging trees, or a variety of other situations.

To hone these casting skills, my Dad would take me to the nearby National Guard Armory where on a Sunday morning the facility would be opened to the local Isaak Walton Fishing Club to practice casting, both rod casting and fly casting. Large circles were marked off on the floor, perhaps fifty feet in diameter. In the center, were placed colored rings resembling hula hoops which were not yet invented in those days. Casting trainees stood behind the line and attempted to cast a dummy lure into a selected color ring. Volunteer experts circulated around the ring, giving instruction on the proper coordination of arm, elbow, wrist and the timely release of the thumb from the reel to place the lure into the specific colored ring, not unlike the instruction given to golfers. My Dad became quite good at precision rod casting, and was admired by fishermen who observed his expertise. However, in contrast to good technique in golfing which usually results in better scores, precision casting does not necessarily translate into bigger catches.

Fishing: Night Crawlers

For the most part, lake fishing requires the use of live bait. Minnows and worms are far and away the most common bait, but occasionally crickets have been used. Minnows are purchased at small establishments along the route to the fishing grounds. Although worms can also be purchased at bait shops, my Dad always caught his own.

I say “caught” because they are literally caught, not dug up from the garden. When a fishing trip was being planned, my Dad would instruct me to water well the grassy space between the blacktop lanes of our driveway beside the house. Also, to soak the victory and flower gardens, and as well as the grass between the sidewalk and curb at the front of the house. When it was totally dark in the evening, we would go outside with flashlights, and search for night crawlers. One had to tread very softly as the worms are sensitive to the slightest vibration of the ground and would retreat into their hole. Spotting a night crawler, one would have to be extremely fast to snatch the worm before it could retract itself back into its hole as it always kept about a quarter of its body length in the hole for quick retreat. It took me a couple of years before I became quick enough and fearless enough to catch my share of bait.

Somewhere my Dad learned that we could more easily capture our supply of night crawlers through the use of technology. He procured two aluminum rods about a half inch in diameter and about two feet long. One end was filed into a point to make insertion into the ground easy and the other end was attached to an electrical wire and wound heavily with black electrician’s tape to serve as a handle. After a few feet the two separate wires from each rod were brought together and connected to about fifty feet of building wire and terminated with a standard electric plug.

In use, the two rods would be pushed into the grass about four feet apart. I was then instructed to plug in the other end into a regular 110 volt outlet inside the house. In short order, one could observe the night crawlers emerging from their holes. Now they could easily be caught because they were reluctant to return to their electrically charged homes.

Fishing: Sinkers

Fishing in a lake or river results in the inevitable loss of sinkers because of snags on rocks or other debris in the water. Sinkers are the lead weights, tied to the end of the fishing line, to carry the baited hooks to the bottom of the lake or river.

Although lead sinkers can be purchased at fishing tackle stores, we always made our own. Dad procured a lead melting crucible and two split design sinker molds. One mold resulted in a conical shaped sinker, the other created a rhombic pyramidal design. Dad, in making his rounds as a cigar salesman would come across and accumulate the lead weights used to balance tires. I also kept my eyes open for the weights along the curbs when going to and coming from school and around the gas station near our home.

The lead weights would be put into the crucible and heated to melting on the gas range in our “summer kitchen.” Dad would hold close one of the molds and I would carefully pour the melted lead into the mold, pouring in different amounts to create a range of sizes for different fishing situations. Calm waters require only a small weight sinker; turbulent waiters as when fishing in the Niagara River required a heavy sinker. In a minute or so, the lead solidified, the mold would be opened, and the sinker pried out. The mold was closed again for another pour. At a session, perhaps fifteen or twenty sinkers would be made.

A Little Something about Nothing

The following is modified from commentary prompted after reading Penguin Prose. This is the weekly news letter of the pre-K class at Beauvoir National Cathedral Elementary School, attended by our grandson.

I noticed in the Penguin Prose of February 4, 2008 that the Penguins will “talk about the concept of 0 (zero)." Very interesting!

When we teach counting to kids we go: ‘one,’ ‘two,’ ‘three,’ etc. We never go: ‘zero,’ 1, 2, 3.

It’s amazing that the concept of zero wasn't even introduced into Western mathematics until the Renaissance by the Arabs who probably got it from the Indians where it showed up no earlier than about 600 AD. The Indians called it sunya meaning "empty or "blank", related to the Buddhist concept of sunyata meaning "emptiness" or "void."

It is certainly believable that zero was late to enter Western thought, since in early Europe they were still using Roman numerals. It is very difficult to do math with Roman numerals, which does not even have provision for zero. (Try multiplying X times V in Roman numerals.)

There are some who believe that zero is not a number at all but a symbol for a place holder. For example, in the sequence, ..7, 8, 9, 10..., the zero after the one in the number ten simply signifies the start of a new sequence of units. Obviously, however, zero is enormously important in modern mathematics and science; how else could we describe Avogadro's number: 6.023 x 10²³ ? The concept of zero was described by a historian*: "In the history of culture, the discovery of zero will always stand out as one of the greatest single achievements of the human race." Maybe an exaggeration, but as a scientist and one who regularly does household accounts, it is hard to imagine how we could live without the mighty zero.

It will be interesting to see how the little Penguins will be introduced to the concept of zero.


* Dantzig, Tobias, Numbers – The Language of Science, 1930, p. 35.

Whom Are We Fighting?

I was immediately drawn into this picture when I first saw it on the front page of the New York Times of July 1, 2008. It is a very dynamic scene, made interesting by the feeling of movement of armed men wadding against a flowing stream. It raised this question for me: Why are these turbaned men, identified as al Qaeda in the caption, many with beards or face masks, wading through this stream?. This doesn’t appear to be like any of the images I have seen before of al Qaeda in Afghanistan, which are almost always against a backdrop of barren, mountainous terrain. This is a scene of refreshing waters in a verdant grove. My question unanswered, at the end of the day, like all newspapers, this newspaper was dutifully tossed into the recycling bin.

Over the course of the next few days, this image repeatedly would flash into my head at odd moments, especially before falling asleep or upon awakening. There was something about this scene that didn’t make sense to me. I was driven to retrieve the Tuesday newspaper from the recycling bin and to gaze upon it at length in order to figure out what it was about this scene that didn’t make sense to me.

At long last I had it: Are these the al Qaeda that we are fighting in Afghanistan because the al Qaeda are the ones who planned and executed the plot to hijack four airplanes and to fly them into significant targets in the United States of America? This image and this fact didn’t compute! Cognitive dissonance!

The 9/11 plot was a bold one. The twin towers of the World Trade Center not only stood tall physically, but they were concrete symbols of the economic power of the US in the world. The Pentagon is the seat of US military might. The White House is the cherished home of America’s sense of nationhood. Who among these seven men in the photograph would be able to identify such targets, and would be able to articulate the potential value of these targets for showing the strength of al Qaeda? Who among the seven could speak passable English, travel to the US, sign up for flight school, and organize the details of selecting four flights with the correct scheduling, so that the plot would have maximum impact by its simultaneity? I suspect none of these men could do any of that.

So now my question is this: If these are the al Qaeda that we are fighting in Afghanistan, what is the relation of these men to those who did have the smarts to plan and execute 9/11?

The usual rationale is that the Taliban who ruled Afghanistan after the ouster of the Russians supported al Qaeda. No doubt the Taliban was a very oppressive regime, forcing the rule of sharia, requiring women to dress in burqas, cutting off the hands of those for what we would judge to be a minor infraction. But will overthrowing Taliban rule in Afghanistan really eliminate the organization that masterminded the 9/11 attack on the US? Specifically, by subduing al Qaeda, these bands of turbaned tribesmen, how will this get to the planners and perpetrators of 9/11? Will this lead to the capture of Osama bin Laden or his closest confidant Ayman al-Zawahiri?

Truth be told: In fact the New York Times reports that this photograph is not taken in Afghanistan but in Algeria as part of an article showing the strength of a branch of al Qaeda there. This was revealed in the article and not in the photograph caption. Nevertheless, the image of bearded men in tunics and turbans is not unlike the images often seen of Afghans, save for the scenery. And although the article did not focus on Afghanistan, the photograph raises the question of our Afghan strategy. The Obama administration is increasing the military presence in Afghanistan by 17,000 troops and it does recognize that the war can not be won by military force alone. It is not surprising that al Qaeda tribesmen would be fighting against a foreign invader no matter the stated motive. The question remains: Will this new strategy avenge the perpetrators of 9/11, or will this turn out to be another Iraq, where we have decided that our stated purpose for going into Iraq was wrong?

Ragman

Since the house lots in my Buffalo neighborhood were very narrow and not very deep, we kids were more likely to be playing in the street, bouncing a ball off a garage door that faced our street from the more elegant homes on the next block. Any activity on the street was greeted with a great deal of interest. One such happening was the occasional coming of a weathered man on a horse-drawn wagon, shouting “rags, rags,” It didn’t seem odd then, but looking back, a horse-drawn wagon looks like something you might see in a Wild West movie. The horse and wagon visit was only one of a couple of such conveyances that came along our street in the 1930s and early 1940s; the horse-drawn bakery wagon was another example. (See note about bakery wagon in the Credit blog.) Today we would call the ragman a recycler.

Clop, clopping along, we kids often would harass him by imitating his calls or hitching a ride on the back of his wagon. My mom would collect faded or out-of-style clothing, out-grown boy’s clothing, or frayed men’s shirts and await the ragman. Signaling the raggie, as he was called, he tethered his horse to a tree or telephone pole, or if none were convenient, he would tether his horse to a heavy weight he would bring down from his wagon. He used a hand-held scale to weigh the collection, and paid my mom a few coins for the load.

In those days, cotton and wool were the most common fibers, but silk and linen were also found in women’s and men’s clothing. The only man-made fiber then was rayon made out of regenerated cellulose. While nylon was invented in 1935, its first use in clothing was in women’s stockings in 1940 (“nylons”). Nylon didn’t reach wide spread use until after WW II. Other synthetic fibers such as polyester, polypropylene and Lycra didn’t become common until the 1960’s.

I asked my parents how they used the collected rags. I never received an answer that fully satisfied me as I did not know what rag paper was.

On the East Buffalo list serve, the ragman has been the subject of recollections by old-time residents, or others visiting their relatives in Buffalo. Here is a sampling of some of their writings:

Linda: I'm so glad someone brought up this topic of the Rag Man. I've long thought I'd been imagining it, because I never could find anyone else who remembers the man coming through shouting out 'Rags' - I can't recall the street; it was whenever I happened to be visiting at my grandparents' home that I heard/saw him, early '50s.

Susan: I remember a ragman coming down Kehr Street in the 1930s. His call sounded like Raaaaaa to me. I never heard the "g" at the end. I mention this in my book, *Fruit Belt Beginnings. *I believe he also took discarded clothing.

Kathy Johnson I remember a rag man coming down the street with a horse drawn wagon about1945-1949. That was on Shirley Ave. near Eggert. Actually, he must have been still around in at least 1953 or 1954, because I can remember him, and I was born in '50.

Sara Burkholder I remember a fella who came down High St. in the '40s calling Rags, Papers, Iron, Bones. He had a horse and wagon. I always wondered how he lived with what seemed to be a meager offering from the folks on the street.

Jack Volk I remember the "ragman" coming down Rich street (late 40s, early 50s)as well. I always thought he was saying "rix".

sgtnysp Must have been the same guy that came by horse and wagon down Loxley Rd. (Pine Hill section of Cheektowaga) because all us kids thought he was saying "RIX"

Kevin: The rag man would get off his wagon and had a brick shaped metal weight that he would clip a strap to from his horse’s halter, so the horse wouldn't walk away, and then he would go into the invited house and down into the basement and take your collected newspapers etc. He had a scale on the back of the wagon that he weighed the paper bundles on and paid the housewife accordingly. He also had a metal vendor's plate on the side of the wagon, showing he was licensed to do biz in the community.

Terrie & Gary Fox My old dog Spike got himself in the dog pound for chasing the ragman's horse.

There several other blogs and websites that have recollections of ragmen in other cities. They make interesting reading. Here are the links:

http://phillymemories.blogspot.com/2006/05/rag-man.html

http://www.oldnewark.com/memories/vailsburg/mcgrathragman.htm

http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1087287

http://cowhampshire.blogharbor.com/blog/_archives/2006/12/26/2414817.html

Photo courtesy of Rich Schwegler.

Grandfather Cobbler

Looking at this photo taken by Clare of little Bilalay “helping” PopPop has brought to mind a flood of memories of my own childhood “helping” my Dad on various projects.

One, which most of you will find the situation almost incredulous in this day of the throw-a-way society, has come to mind for unknown reason: The image I have is of me watching my Dad cobbling shoes. Yes, believe it or not, when I was young, Dad would repair the soles of all our worn out leather shoes or their heals. We had a mini-shoe-makers kit: a cast iron last that you would insert into the shoe being repaired to counter the incoming nail. Dad had an authentic cobbler’s tack hammer which was fun to play with. All this was stored in a special wooden box that also served as storage for shoe polish, sheep skin buffers, and an assortment of old rags for applying shoe wax and subsequent shining steps.

In what were called “five and dime” stores (I suppose “Dollar” stores are the current equivalent), there was a department devoted to home shoe repair supplies for those who couldn’t afford taking their shoes to a professional cobbler: an assortment of men’s and ladies’ rubber and leather heals, pre-shaped rubber and leather sole materials in various sizes, and a selection of roughly shaped leather pieces that would eventually become the soles of a good soling job.

Dad always started with these leather pieces; he would lay it carefully on the shoe to be repaired so as to make maximum use of the available material, trace the shape with a pencil, and with his trusty and always very sharp pocket knife which was always with him, would carefully trim the leather to the exact shape of the shoe being repaired. The tricky part was to bevel the rear of the sole so that it blended in near the heal. The exciting part would be the final tacking of the leather piece to the shoe. I always wondered how it was that we never felt the nails inside the shoe. I guess Dad knew exactly where to put the nails. I now suspect the cast iron last had something to do with it.

Shoe care was a big part of grooming when I was young. It seemed that I had to wax my shoes at least once a week, and while I was at it, do Dad’s and occasionally Mom’s too. When Arline was running her beauty salon, I would also be called upon to apply white cream polish to bring them up to professional status. One would never be seen going to church with shoes that had even the slightest scuff mark. Since I would be walking in front of Mom and Dad going to church, I was under close inspection along the whole route and would hear commentary along the way if I did not look right. Combed hair was part of the inspection, which I always had a problem with because I tended to have a “rooster tail” at the back of my head. Maybe that was caused by the way my hair was barbered. My barber was, of course, my Dad!

Notebook Credit

With all the current talk of a deep recession and the trouble with banks and the credit markets, I was thinking about life during the depression era and our early involvement with credit.

When I was a kid, my neighborhood in Buffalo did not have the big supermarkets that we have today. Grocery stores were mostly family owned, store-front shops. Usually, the family lived in the back of the store. Since all fruits and vegetables were seasonal, that is, not shipped in from afar like Chile, Mexico, or even California, grocery stores carried mostly canned goods, for example, green beans or corn which we now can buy fresh at anytime of the year.. Seasonal fresh produce was purchased at the farmers’ market. Groceries only carried white bread but fresh baked crusty bread could be purchased at the local bakery. Groceries might carry cold cuts, but meat was bought at the neighborhood butcher chop. (Side story: White bread and a variety of baked goods could be purchased from a horse-drawn bakery wagon that regularly made the neighborhood rounds. My mother rarely bought anything from this bakery wagon because she was a prolific baker of pies, cakes, and sometimes bread.)

The grocery store in my neighborhood was called the “red and white;” the outside was painted bright red with white sign lettering. I think that it was a franchise operation, but family run. The proprietor kept a small dog-eared notebook next to the cash register. When someone bought groceries, he would jot down the amount in the notebook on a page dedicated to the customer. All this was in pencil. On Friday, when most people got their pay, they would come to the store and make good on the week’s credit. Notice, I said pay, not paycheck, because most people received their wages in cash in an envelope. Certainly, through the 1930s and ‘40s this was a cash society except for the credit that was offered by individual shop owners like the grocery in my neighborhood. In our family, we never utilized this form of credit. The family motto was, if you can’t afford it (in cash) , you don’t buy it. An exception that proves the rule: my mother made use of “lay away plans” offered by the department stores for the purchase of expensive items such as a winter coat. She would make periodic cash payments until the item was paid in full and only then could it be taken home.

I recall many a time when I overheard the proprietor questioning the little kid (like myself) about when his or her mommy or daddy would be coming in to pay up the account. I never saw a case when the kid didn’t take home the item he or she was sent to buy.

(Another image: One of the fun things about going to the grocery store was to watch the proprietor use his “remote package gripper” to reach for cans or boxes on the highest shelves of the store. (The shelves went from floor to ceiling.) Even better, was to watch him, if he were in a playful or, perhaps, boastful mood to nudge the can forward to topple it off the shelf and catch it as it fell into his other hand. Even more fun was to use the gripper yourself when he was busy attending other customers.)

I think our first venture into credit cards was with gasoline company issued cards. I recall that we had a Gulf Oil card and a Texaco card; there might also have been others. It is to be noted, however, that these cards were used only for gasoline purchases; they could not be used more generally as we now use a VISA card. It was through Rohm and Haas, for which I did a fair amount of traveling in the ‘60s, that I was issued an American Express card that could also be used for personal expenses. However, we used it only during vacations for lodging, meals, and the like; the Amex card was never used for general merchandise purchases. In the late ‘60s and ‘70s, we also had a Sears Roebuck card and a card issued by one or two of the big department stores in Huntsville and then, later, in Jenkintown. But again, these were used only for in-store purchases.

I wonder if history will agree with my impression that the beginnings of the credit card society began with the oil industry.