November 2001
From Bill Vorbeck
What was the number one toy you wanted when you were under the age of thirteen? Did you get it? When you got; it was it as good as you thought it would be. Did you ever have the opportunity to use one of your friends who had one? Have you given it any thought at all lately?
Well, I have. I happened to be in Dogtown a few days ago taking photos of my old stomping rounds. As I traveled east on Manchester I saw a railroad handcar (they use gas motors now) going west on the railroad tracks. And as it passed me it brought back memories I had watching them go by from time to time while I sold daily newspapers at Tamm and Manchester.
In those days they were called -- handcars -- one or two railroad workers would pump the handle up and down and that's what made it go. As I said one or two people could operate them.
Then a few days later I observed the old time handcar in the movie "Oh Brother Where Art Thou?" And I urge everyone who can to see it. I live in Florissant now and the nearest railroad tracks are over in Bridgeton by Lambert Field. Its been sever years since I've see one and here in less that a week I saw both the old version Handcar and to 21st century motorized one. Those of you who lived in the north end of Dogtown may never have seen one unless you road the Manchester Street Car are traveled along a railroad track many times.
Those two sightings reminded me of one of my most coveted toys I ever wanted but never did get. I suppose its because it cost so much. It worked on the same principle as the railroad handcar and try and I could, I couldn't remember name of the toy until a few hours ago when it came to me out of the blue.
The name of the toy was an "Irish Mail." Instead of pushing on pedal's with your legs and feet and steering it with your hand. Pushing and pulling on a handle forward and backward propelled an Irish Male and you steered it with your feet. In the l930 it was a cool toy, top of the line human propelled toy. Someone in our neighborhood had one and we stood in line for the opportunity to ride it.
You don't see them any more and I though it should be included in the history of growing up in Dogtown. Buy the way the World Book Dictionary describes the Irish Mail as: "a toy handcar... were the most wonderful four-wheeled vehicles for boys ever invented [New Yorker]. So you see I was right on the button on this one.
Bill Vorbeck - Class of 1947
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Ann Patrice O'Shaughnessy annpatrice@earthlink.netThe Irish Mail wasn't only cool to boys in the 30's. I know a couple of girls who coveted one in the late 40's/early 50's. My mother and father, Mary Lillian and Tom O'Shaughnessy, were good friends of Dean and Helen Vezeau. My sister, Kathleen, and I always enjoyed our visits to their home.
We were both very fond of Dean and Helen and had fun playing with their sons, but what we really looked forward to was playing with the Vezeau boys' Irish Mail. We were fortunate to have bikes, scooters, and wagons, but boy did we want that Irish Mail!
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Jan. 21, 2001
Bill Vorbeck
Games, I recall, we played and things we did during and after school.
Handball of course has already been mentioned, several times.
Basketball
Flip cards, where we flipped baseball cards in a game of match or touch.
Marbles both big ring and little ring.
We played spin the top. And attempt to hit our opponent's top, while it was spinning, and knock it over or split it if you hit it dead center.
Yo-yo, tricks like walk the dog, around the world, sleep and rock the cradle.
Fly Kits, two-sticker (High Flyers), three stickers, and box kits. Johnny Pence who lived in the 1400 block of Gregg was one the best in that area. He would fly them higher and further than anyone I have ever known. From Lloyd and Gregg his kit would be flying past Manchester Avenue. We would climb trees to get the stick from the kits that got caught in the branches and make our own kites.
Played Mumblety-peg with pocketknives. Games where you have to flip the pocket knife and stick it into the ground from various parts of your body. 1st from the palm of your hand, then the back of your hand, then from each of your fingers of both hands, then the wrist, the elbow shoulder, the chin, the nose and the forehead. If you missed your opponent tried. The one who performed all the tasks won. One of the games was called "Chew the peg." If you lost your opponent would get to drive a wooden matchstick into the ground using, up to ten strokes with the knife handle, and the looser would have to pull the peg out of the ground with his teeth. Whittle rings from soapstone, whittle on wood and use them to cut branches from trees to roast marshmallows over fires at picnics. In the 40s no one thought anything about a boy having a pocketknife. Many times parents gave them to their sons as birthday gifts. I'm sure you will all recall scout knives, and Swiss knives to name but two.
Knuckle or "Knuck's" was a card game we played. I don't recall just how it was played but it was similar to war. However the last one holding the cards, at the end of the game, would have his knuckles hit with the deck of cards, by each player. The number of times equal to the total number of the numbered cards picture cars he was left holding. One hit for an ace two through ten for number cards and ten of each picture card. Knuck's players shed quite a bit of blood, I can tell you. And I provided my share of it.
Went swimming at the Forest Park Highlands, and the Maplewood swimming pools. Waded in the Franz Park wading pool. In the Forest Park on hot summer days and on various other occasions, we swam with our cloths on, (Shoes off of course), in the Lagoons and at the Waterfalls on Lagoon Drive, between the nine-hole and 18-hole golf course.
We walked to and from the Maplewood pool to save the 20-cent streetcar fair so we could buy hamburgers at the White Castle at Sutten and Manchester Avenue, on the way to the Maplewood pool. We also went swimming at the Highlands swimming pool but it was constructed of tile and was very slippery when wet, and you would slip and fall if you weren't careful.
We built model air planes, both sick and balsam wood models. Some with rubber band types and motor type. And became quite good at it. This kind of project took a lot of time and effort and was done alone and not with friends, it was and individual kind of thing. Several kids like to do it and we took pride in how well our planes were constructed and stood up to the rigors of flying.
We sailed our model sailboats in the Post Dispatch Lake just south of the ice rink and west of Barns Hospital. The ice rink wasn't there in the 40's I spent many hours sailing boats there. It was also a great place to catch Crayfish. We fished in all the other lakes and ponds in the park. We caught crayfish with liver tied to the bottom of a net made of cheesecloth and a wire clothes hanger, that we would lower off the boat dock to the bottom of the water and wait for them to feed on the bait. We marveled at how fast the could swim backwards.
We played release in the neighborhood -- and a form of it with the Hitler Gang that I've already explained.
Kick the tin cam, Hid and seek.
We played war! Dug mud forts in the clay mine fields south of Wade, north of Lloyd, west of Childress and east of Kraft Avenue. We crawled in the dirt, ran around the neighborhood with our toy guns and rifles. First it was cowboys and Indians, and after the war began it was WAR.
Our forts were dug in the clay-mine fields. They were generally shaped like a large letter E. They were about four feet deep or deep enough that when you sat on the bottom your head could not be seen. The center portion of the E shape we built a fireplace. Oh yes! Cooking with fire was part of our fun.
Be baked potato's packed in mud. And with our Boy Scout cooking kits we cooked beans and spaghetti - Mullegan's stew we called it. I think we got that recipe from Camp Don Bosco, The recipe was one can of Campbell's Pork and Beans and one can Franco-American Spaghetti with Cheese, mixed together and stirred with a hickory stick. No other stick will do, mind you, it has to be a hickory stick. Recipes must be followed exactly! And when we were lucky we cooked marshmallows and hot-dogs. For eleven and twelve year olds that was some meal. Especially when you were having lunch with friends in the trenches.
I recall one time when we were playing cowboys and Indians we decided we were going to burn the cowboys out of their hiding place. We started the lot on west side of Gregg Avenue north of the alley that ran east and west north of Manchester Avenue. I think my brother Joe, Joe Adams, Jim McDaniels, and perhaps a McVey or two were there too. The fire got going pretty good before we put it out ourselves. Of course we called time out ... while we put out the fire.
We made rubber guns (play guns that shot, home made large, rubber bands). The gun, was made out of a piece of wood 2 "wide x ½" thick x 14" long with a nail, used as a trigger. The nail, was placed about 3" on the bottom the piece of wood. And one leg, or stem, of a clothespin was removed so when it was placed upside down against end of the piece of wood to serve, both as a handle and hammer for the gun.
A bicycle tire or auto tire inner-tub would be cut into ¼" strips to be used ammunition to be shot at your enemy. And a 2" thick rubber band would attach the clothespin to the wood. When stretched around the 14" piece of wood and the clothespin it would hold the clothespin very tight against the board.
By gripping the nail with your fingers and squeezing the clothespin with your hand to the lower portion of the Clothespin, enough pressure could be applied to create a gap between the Clothespin and the top of the board to open large enough to insert your ammunition. The smaller home made inner tub rubber band. The smaller rubber band was pinched between the clothespin and the board and then stretched the length of the board and looped over the end.
Depending on the quality of the home made gun and the rubber inner tub, from which you cut your rubber bands. When you applied pressure to the clothespin using the heal of your hand with your fingers gripping the nail trigger, the second time, the gap would open releasing the, pinched, rubber band which would travel some six to twelve feet, horizontally. At close range, three to six feet, you felt a slight sting when hit.
It was, in the end, far better than saying bang, bang your dead: when playing war, and your opponent laughing, as he ran away, "saying ha ha you missed." You knew when you hit your target and your enemy felt it.
Now I want all of you fathers, and Grandpas to go out and build your children or grandchildren a first class rubber gun. You never know when America will be dragged into another war and will need sharp shooters in their ranks.
Using a form of baseball and cork ball rules we played step ball. One person would throw a tennis ball against steps and the other would try and catch it on the fly. A home run was when you hit the corner or edge of the step and the ball would fly quite a distance through the air depending on how hard you threw the ball. Hitting the edge of the step was difficult to do.
We pitched horseshoes at the horse shoe pits in the school yard along side of the handball court. This was done each Tuesday evening (Family Night) in the parish school yard.
We made stilts and played on them as well. Trying to see who could walk the furthest without falling.
We built soapbox-derby-carts from odds and ends from broken wagons using their axle, and tires nailed to 2 "x 4"x 4" long. A 1 "x 6" board 6' long to sit on and the rear axle was stationary. The front axle was bolted to the seat with a piece of clothes line on the right and left side and by pulling one way or the other you could steer the make shift soapbox go to right or left.
Annually they had a soap box derby on highway forty (We called it the Super Highway). It starting at the top of the hill west of Hampton Avenue Overpass and the finish line was just east of the Tamm Avenue overpass. Where everyone lining both sides of the highway fence could see who the winner was. I believe it was sponsored by the triple-A Auto Club.
In the rear of the School yard there was a roller rink and was also to be an ice skating rink in the winter when it was covered with about 4 inches of water. The Ice skating rink never got off the ground because tray as they may they could never obtain a smooth sheet of ice on it. Most of our ice hockey or pleasure skating was done in Forest Park. The girls also participated in skating in the park and slay riding as well. It was quite
Roller-skating was also difficult because no one swept the sand and small stones or pebbles of it. However, it also served as a tennis court. Well, it was a poor court because it had no fence to top the misplayed balls. That is except on the North end where there was a fence which kept some balls from going in to Big John's (that's what we called him I never did know his real name) yard. Big John wouldn't allow anyone to climb the fence into his back yard to retrieve any ball. Baseball, soccer ball, softball, tennis ball...any ball. He was just that kind of guy. When a ball went into Big John's year that was it.
Mr. Stinger was our teacher. He was an excellent tennis player. Held several trophies playing in Forest Park across from the Forest Park Field House. He had a couple of sons Keith and Joe I believe. They were excellent players as well, for their age. I recall they had a tennis racket re-stringer in their dinning room. They used catgut for webbing and they could make the tension as tight or loose as they wanted. Mr. Stinger would give lessons on Tuesday evenings to anyone who was interested. Tennis never did draw a crowd. They spent too much time chasing tennis balls across the playground. The balls would roll across the school yard and would come to rest 50 yards away when it hit the South school yard fence.
We played release in the St. Louis Art Museum. A dozen of more of us would choose up sides and the entire museum was our boundary. Six or more hiding and six or more searching and chasing us down, (at a fast walk) and when a guard was in site we stood still pretending to be contemplating the protection of one of the paintings or statues. When the guard turned his head or walked away we were off as fast as our feet could carry us.
Duke McVey holds the record, as I recall, of the most aggress violations. He hid in or under a bed George Washington was supposed to have slept in.
That is enough of our games now. I'll continue another day commercial places we frequented.
Remember the Knothole Gang?
Bill Vorbeck Class of 47'
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Ida Duggan McDevitt Idamac223@aol.comWe also did night games under the street light. Our parents were usually sitting on the porch. In those days kids could actually play outside and feel perfectly safe. We played hide and go seek. We use to draw a circle on the back of the person who was it. I can't remember the chant we use to say. I know someone poked with a finger and you had to guess which one did it if you guessed they were it. There was "Prisoner Base" and "capture the flag."
Anybody remember the rules on any of these. You had to have rules for everything. That you had to argue about, of course. Ida Duggan McDevitt
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Bill Vorbeck
Ida: I believe the game that had a prison base was called Release. In that game several kids had to play it. You had to choose up sides. One group would hide out and the other would have to find them. It was like hide and seek but you had to chase the person down and tag him three times. If you did he would surrender and would be taken back to prison. All those caught had to stand in the circle or in prison.
Any one on the prisoners team could run through the square or cycle and release them to scatter, run and hid again. There was always one or two people guarding the prisoners in the circle because in time someone would come and attempt to release them and most got caught trying to release their team mates.
Kick the tin can was similar to Release. A team member hiding out would have to run a kick a tin can. If he succeeded those already caught could be set free to, run and hide out again. These type game could go on for hours. And boundaries had to be set some time a full block area was involved not just a few neighbors yards.
Bill Vorbeck
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Kathryn Vezeau Standfield kitchie@effingham.netFrom: Kitchie
I remember playing step ball in the early 50's; also the game that we threw ball against wall of house. Should remember that one, I would get in trouble many times playing while younger brothers and sisters were napping. I do remember that there were verses we said/sang, but am unable to bring them to mind.
Kathryn Vezeau Standfield- l954
23 Jan 2001 01
Jennifer (Bohnenkamp) Gnau Wandifar@aol.comWell, I couldn't resist when I read what Bill Vorbeck had to say about playing in the mud forts south of Wade. Sounds like those forts were around for a long time. The funny thing was you had to be of a certain age before you were allowed to be on that hallowed ground. I lived on Wade and the "older" boys were always in control of those mud forts. There was a bunch of us on Wade that were younger and not allowed to go anywhere near them. We lived in fear of trespassing thinking that God knows what would happen if we ventured to close to their territory. I think I believed we would be tied up and left there overnight if we were ever caught. Those forts intrigued us because the were so forbidden to us. When we knew the coast was clear, we would sneak over just to see what made them so mysterious. They were just a bunch of holes in the ground with open tunnels connecting another hole, but oh how we wished we could be a part of the fun that was going on so close but yet so far from our grasp. I remember the many hedge apples from the trees to the south of the field that were sometimes hurled at us if we got too close or taunted too much. I was beginning to think that field and those memories were figments of my imagination. By the time we were older, when I am not sure, that area was already developed into houses. We never got to enjoy the right of passage letting us be in control of those fields when the "older" kids got tired of their captivating nature. Isn't it great that there was so much to do. I agree Bill that it is sad that our children and grandchildren can't experience the world we had in the 40's, 50's and 60's. Ours was a time of innocence and naivete. A time when the ugly facts that were in the world, were not allowed in our world. The inception of television brought the world to our living rooms at the end of the 40's. Unfortunately, in my opinion, it was a Pandora's Box that has let the evils of the world come streaming into our living rooms, desensitizing our nation into indifference. Well, I didn't mean to get my knickers into a knot, but I do think it has a lot to do with why our children are unable to enjoy the world as we did.
Jennifer (Bohnenkamp) Gnau "Class of 64"
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From: "Sr. Thomas Duggan" Girls stayed pretty close to home. There were plenty of kids in the
neighborhood. After chores were finished in the summer, all our activities were
outdoors. Sometimes on the front concrete steps, we played jacks. Ten or
twelve jacks, perhaps more, were tossed onto the concrete hoping they
wouldn't touch each other or be scattered too far apart. The object of the game was to pick up the jacks before the little ball you threw upward could hit the ground. On the first round you picked up one at a time, then two, three etc. until you could in one swoop get them all.
This was done with one hand catching the ball and the other snatching the
jacks touching only the ones to be picked up. If you disturbed other than
the ones picked up, you lost you turn and waited for the other one or two
players to go as far as they could. Then you resumed where you left off.
Jumping rope was another pastime. There were many degrees of difficulty.
Jumping in the front, jumping in the back, faster, double ropes turned one
way called Double Irish; turned the other way, Double Dutch. We chanted
little rhymes, counted the jumps aloud. When a number played, we took
turns turning the rope/s, and everyone else lined up to take a turn. The
game could be varied as we chose: each one took one jump, then two etc.
When you missed, you were eliminated. We also played high and low with
ropes raising the rope progressively higher and jumping over without
touching.
In the evenings, boys and girls together played Lye Low Sheep. The one who
was IT counted to a hundred while everyone else found a place to hide.
Then he/she called out loud: "Here I come. Ready or not you shall be
caught". If you were caught, you were IT next time. Hiding places were
usually down the alley behind an ash pit or garage. Alleys were safe then.
Some games were not very elegant. We formed two lines facing each other in
the street (cars were a rarity and horse drawn wagons were off the streets by noon). One side marched up to face the other chanting: "Here comes the Duke a
riding, riding, riding Here comes the Duke a riding, ransom tansom cinnamon tea." "What are you riding here for, here for, here for? What are you riding
here for ransom tansom cinnamon tea?" I'm riding here to get married, married, married. I'm riding here to get married ransom, tansom, cinnamon tea"
"Which one of us do you choose sir, choose sir, choose sir? Which one of
us do you choose sir ransom, tansom, cinnamon tea?" "You're all too dirty and greasy, greasy, greasy. You're all too dirty and greasy ransom, tansom, cinnamon tea."
After this chanted exchange , I think he Duke's side was chased by the
other side until caught. Maybe Kitty O'Shaugnessy could shed some light on this or check the accuracy.
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I recall Step ball as Ida mentioned. I don't recall the rules. We aimed for the angle formed by the riser. You got points for catching the ball and one hundred points if you caught a ball that bounced from the edge of the steps.
Another rubber ball game was O'Leary. You chanted "One, two, three O'Leary; four, five, six O'Leary; seven, eight, nine O'Leary; ten O'Leary Postman". There were various rounds adding some degree of difficulty. For example, you locked your arms and brought them under the ball as it bounced upward; you crossed the ball with one leg as it bounced. The little skill was performed on the word O'Leary.
When it was too hot for great activity, we had many quiet activities. In an old shoe box we made poppy shows. The box was partitioned with cardboard or paper to make rooms of a house or an outdoor scene inhabited by paper dolls and decorated any way you wanted. Then with the lid on the box, you chanted (We did an awful lot of chanting): "A pin, a pin, a poppy show. Give me a pin and I'll let you look in". It was simple, kept us interested and busy for a long time. We could work indoors or outdoors as weather permitted.
Another quiet activity was coloring sand or salt and making pretty arrangements in a glass jar. White sand worked pretty well, but salt was better. You poured out on newspaper a small amount of salt and with colored chalk (three cents a box) you worked the color into the salt (about five cents a box) poured that into a jar, worked up another color poured that on top of the first etc. until you had a variety of colors. Then with a fine twig poking carefully inside the glass you moved little streaks of one color into another making a work of art you were proud of.
On rainy days we spent hours playing with paper dolls. Ladies Home Journal and other ladies' magazines always had a centerfold of dolls and doll clothes to cut out. Using those as patterns you added to the wardrobe using paper and crayons.
Tea parties or lunches in the grape arbor was a bit more active and required lots more patience on the part of our mothers. It was in and out banging the screen door, slopping up the kitchen making Koolade, sandwiches, getting cookies and carrying all this outdoors. Cleaning up was a repetition of in and out and banging screen door.
We played house and school imitating our parents and teachers.
Our fun was very simple, but we were NEVER BORED as so many kids are today.
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Subject: Those childhood games: Kitty Krall adds to Sr. Thomas Duggan
I thought my memory for detail was pretty good but it is no match for Sr.
Thomas Duggan's. Lie Low Sheep of course, and remember Go In And Out The
Windows? I DO REMEMBER and I AM SMILING RIGHT NOW! The chanting of Ransom, Tansom, Cinnamon Tea was fun. In grade school my pals and I were literally obsessed with hop scotch. We kids in large families had many chores around the house, such as the despised ironing. We had so little, as Sr. says, but
we had so much too. We just had to be resourceful. Did any of you play
"Mumble de Peg"? Played with a crochet hook or a small pocket knife, held
in the palm of the hand, then tossed up, not high, and the idea was that it
land on the point and embedded itself in the ground. It had to be played on
dirt of course. DOGTOWN SONGS
Edward Cody
emlcody@primary.net
From: Edward Cody
Reading some of those songs the young girls used to sing while playing ball on Dogtown streets reminded me of the juvenile songs we used to sing when going to a soccer game or baseball game and coming home after a win we would celebrate (read as show off) by singing some songs. Here are two typical examples:
" Cheer, cheer for good old St James
Bring on the whiskey, bring on the dames,
Send someone out for gin
Don't let a sober person in,
We never stagger, we never fall,
We sober up on wood alcohol.
S T J A M E S
spells St James to victory,
Rah, Rah, Rah"
" From the halls of Haley's double dip
to the shores of the Forest Park lagoon
We will fight our Dogtown battles
even in O'Shea's saloon.
We will fight for wine and women
and to keep our honor down
We are proud to be known as
the gang from old Dogtown."
I doubt if we even knew what wood alcohol was, but it sounded cool. How can such doggerel verse come back to me after 55 years? I don t know but reading the Dogtown web page with its storehouse of memories triggers in turn old memories.
Ed Cody 7-25-01
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From Bill Vorbeck
There was a song we used to sing but I'm afraid I can't remember the opening verse so I'm going to need some help.
The second and last verse;
Her mother never told her
The things a young girl should know
About the ways of Dogtown Boys
And how they come and go - mostly go
Now age has taken her beauty
And sin has left its bad scars
So think of your mothers and sisters Boys
A let her sleep under the bar - UNDER THE BAR.
I believe it was sung to the tone of Nellie From Pike
I would also like to correct an earlier poem about getting beer in buckets and the local taverns. I completely forgot the first few lines of the rhyme
Listen my children and you will hear
of the midnight ride of a can of beer
Down the alley and over the fence
I've got a bucket
Who's got fifteen cents.
Bill Vorbeck - Class '47
I was hopping to read something on the Dogtown List regarding what some readers' experiences had been growing up in Dogtown on Halloween.
When I was eleven years old house parties were in vogue. I attended a quite a few house parties but the ones I liked best were the Halloween Parties. Some Halloween parties were costume parties others were come as you are. The younger you were the more likely you wanted to dress up in a costume. There's one particular Halloween party at my house that I'll remember as long as I live.
I have to give my sister Marry Virginia (Gin) all the credit for making it such a success. Gin promised She would scare the, you know what, out of everyone who came to the party. Considering our age at that time was not too great of a task but she truly excelled in scaring us half to death.
Gin loved to tell ghost stories to us year round. We loved them and she did tell the wildest stories we had ever heard. In those days during the war there was no where to go or money to spend on entertainment except to the movies and we did that most of the time on Sunday.
Today children are preoccupied with aliens. Creature's from other planets invading our country. Creatures that after they arrived would morph into robots killing machines. But in the 1940s when it came to making up and telling ghost stories Virginia was the best. I think she got her ideas from listening to Inner-sanctum or I. Love A Mystery featuring the characters Jack Dock, and Reggie, radio programs and adding her own special endings.
After playing games and bobbing for apples and the like. We had some sweets to eat and then it was time for Virginia to do her stuff. She had us all gather around in a circle with our legs crossed and holding each other's hands. Then she turned off the lights, placed a lit jack-o'-lantern in the center of the circle. With the candle flickering and shadows in all shapes and forms on the walls in our large basement it was quite spooky.
She then started her ghost story. I alone knew Gin's ability at telling ghost story along would scare the devil out of anyone our age including me and I had already heard most of them already.
But this one was different it was about witches on broomsticks, and creatures resembling a small man, who were usually very evil. She called them goblins and said they were especially good at catching small children around Halloween. Parents were very worried about their children especially when they went trick or treating dressed up so they couldn't be recognized. And if he caught you, he or she would eat you alive. And there wouldn't even be a funeral because, you see, there wouldn't be any casket because there would be no body to bury. Everyone holding each others hands could feel the vibrations of the kids hand they were hold shaking as they became more and more scarred as the story went on.
She told us the Parents would take turns watching out all night ready to alert their neighbors if they saw any witches or goblins. And just a few days ago they spotted a few witches at Graham and Wade and a few goblins near Sproule and Lloyd. But we were to keep it a secrete because they killed them by taking them down to the railroad tracks and waited for a train to run them over. Then they plucked out their eyes and took some of the intestines to keep the other witches and goblins from putting them back together again. Some of us began to laugh at how ridiculous the story was our parents would harm a flee we knew that; are at least that's what chose to believe.
But Virginia reinforced her story by saying she could prove it. And in a very solemn, and surreal voice, which carried with it a warning. That something bad might happen to our parents or us if we failed to keep what we were about to experience very, very, tight secret. Then we had to swear an oath of silence. We weren't even to talk about it between ourselves.
She said some of their body parts were kept as proof of what they had done. She said she saw where that had put the eyes and intestines and had taken some from their hiding place. So she could prove to us she was telling the truth. And she would pass them around for us to see with our own eyes and feel with our own hands their eyes and guts, to assure us this was not a tale. Of course no one believed her some of us even laughed.
Now I didn't have any idea that Virginia was going to do anything but tell us one of her favorite ghosts stories and was totally caught unaware. She then just along side of the lit Jack-o'-lantern with the flickering light reached down and picked up a small bowl and asked us to cup our hands and she would hand each one of us a pair of eyes.
Now in a whisper she told us all to keep very quite because no one knew she had them and she didn't want to be found out. She had the advantage of being in the center of the circle where she could see us better than we could see her because the lights from the flickering candle was in our eyes and not hers.
We all reluctantly let each other had go and cupped our hand to receive -- we don't know what. As she dropped the supposed eyeballs into our cupped hand some yelled some immediately dropped them. We were truly fooled. They cold, wet, and slime. In the dark it was very difficult for any of us to really get a good look at what she had put in our hands. Some kids screamed some flung them up in the air and the came down on the others, who hadn't gotten theirs and had no idea what it was that just dropped on them. they jumped up to wiped, whatever it was, them off them.
Ha Ha Ha she laughed in a haunting voice. YOU THOUGHT I WAS JUST JOKING ... DIDN'T YOU? Ha Ha Ha Ha in a witch-like laugh. SIT DOWN AND STOP ACTING LIKE LITTLE BABY'S. There's more much more coming Ha Ha Ha.
She then produced a medium size bowl and told us, what was the intestine of the witch or goblin. She didn't know which but it didn't matter because they both looked very much alike. But in the flickering candle light, from the pumpkin in the middle of the circle, which, under the circumstances few could hardly see and many had their eyes closed. Guess what I have in here... Ha Ha Ha Ha? She ordered us to keep our hands cupped because I don't want anyone to drop any of the intestines on the basement floor!
She took each kids hand into hers. Then before plunged their hand into the bowl containing the witches' intestines, she whispered into their ear not to scream too loud because other witches and goblins might hear them and tries and retrieve the intestines. Then she would plunge their hand deep into the bow containing the supposed witch's intestines. After everyone had their hand dipped into the bowl of witch intestines the lights went on and everyone was up on their feet not wanting to touch anything or any one because their had was covered with slime.
Well, you can imagine the horror we experienced at that party. Gin "scared us out of our britches," as the saying goes. When they say the eyeballs were large pealed purple grapes and the intestines were nothing more than spaghetti soaked in melted butter they laugh their hearts out. Wow what a story and what a night it was one I'll never forget.
Now I want you to know I tried to write just how my wonderful sister Mary Virginia Vorbeck-Sharp was the star of my Halloween party. I did my best to tell it like it was. Because "that's the way it was one Halloween weekend in Dogtown at Tamm and Lloyd in the basement."
Happy Halloween
Bill Vorbeck - Class of 1947
Halloween Pranks
When we were younger we went trick or treating for sweets. As we got older we did the usual Halloween pranks like shooting peas, with our peashooters at kids that were going from house to house trick or treating, and at passing cars, house windows, and store windows. We also soaped parked car windows, house windows of people not at home, and store windows.
When we were a bit older we removed rear or backyard gates from their hinges and switching them with other neighbors gates. Some fit some didn't. Some gates that didn't fit other neighbors gates were pitched up on their or their neighbors garage roof depending on how hard it was to throw them up there.
When we out grew those pranks we would have Halloween parties and dunk for apples, play records, and kissing games like flashlight. (Do any of you remember the rules of the Flash Light Game?) Where boys and girls would pair off and a boy (generally there were always more guys than girls at the parties) would turn off the basement light and the couples would hide in the basement or house if no adults were home. The person with the flashlight would try to turn the light on a couple and try to catch them not kissing. If he did he would change places with the boy. Then that boy had to take the flashlight and search out someone not kissing. If there were more than one boy without a partner, then the boy caught would have to go to the end of the line of the others waiting their turn.
This game could go on for hours. It was usually played towards the end of the party after we played all our other games, danced, and eaten some snacks. Of course everyone had to be willing to take his or her chances and play hoping, of course, they would, first get the partner of their choice and second not get caught. So they could smooch the rest of the evening.
The girls who didn't match up with the boy of their choice were reluctant to cooperate with their male partner and hoped to get caught if for no other reason that to ditch the guy they were with, in favor changing partners hoping of course for the best. It all depended, of course, on which boy, who had the flashlight. We were all thirteen or fourteen years old by then.
It beat spin the bottle. That we played when we were very young children. And pin the tail on the donkey at birthday parties.
Come now let me hear from those of you who grew up in the 20s and 30s and how you began our courtship's, as teenagers.
Bill Vorbeck - Class '47
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On the David Letterman TV Show he has a segment known as "The Stupid Human Tricks." The mischief we engaged in when we were in grade school basically falls in that category. Even though we thought they were neat at the time, in retrospect I must admit they were stupid; and often dangerous.
Playing with fire:
I've already mentioned how we would set fire to Cook's Field in pre-Villa times between Childress and Tamm. To clear the field of weeds so we could play football each fall.
Benzene is a flammable substance that we used to play with quite often. I believe its intended use was mainly clean auto engine parts and maybe burned in some large whole house space heaters. We used it to make torches out of Cattails that grew in a pond at Kraft and Dale Avenue. We would soak the Cattails tips with Benzene and then set them on fire. They made good torches.
There were other uses as well. Friday night was doorbell night in the southern half of Dogtown. We used to ring peoples doorbells to irritate homeowners by making them, get out of their favorite chair, leave their favorite radios program, to answer the door. Much like today, when phone solicitations are made while your sitting down for dinner.
Over time, doorbell night, became a sort of cat and mouse game that the grown-ups began to expect and anticipate each Friday night. Some would station themselves close to the door so they could catch us by responding, to the doorbell, very quickly. They would pretend to be upset and we would hide behind the hedges and laugh at them because they weren't quick enough to catch us. They would call out our names, guessing who we were of course, telling us they were going to tell our parents the next time they saw them. Of course they never did. It was all in fun.
That is for those who could take a spoof without becoming very upset. Those who ranted and raved at us got the treatment. It was all out harassment. No holds barred mischief. I'll relate several types of mischief our gang engaged in as we grew up in Dogtown. Since "The List" has fallen silent and not because Bob and his partner have been gallivanting all over Europe while we here in St. Louis have been enjoying the "Dog Days" of July and August with 100º heat indices weather.
I (we) kids did participate in mischief. Some very serious mischief indeed, as you will read. I intend to relate a few of them in the next few weeks. Fair warning you control of the delete key. Don't hesitate to use it when you've read enough. I'm not proud of my participation in some of these events but feel they should be included as part of growing up in Dogtown. As the cowboy said when his friend asked him why he jumped into the cactus bush "Seemed like a good idea at the time." Here are two extreme examples that were used against the same family or person.
A new neighbor had moved into the neighborhood and of course we just had to initiate him and his family to our Friday night pranks. In short we were going to test their tolerance.
The first time we rang his doorbell he came looked around and after a few minutes, went inside and closed the door. We went back and rang the doorbell the second time and then, on went the porch light, he opened the door quick as a wink. We weren't twenty-five feet away and couldn't help but laugh at him. He went ape, he started cursing, threatening us and he went on and on. The more he raved the more we laughed. He was mad very, very mad.
That night we went on to other houses and enjoyed ourselves until got tired. As usual some of us wanted to get home in time to hear our favorite radio programs. I liked, "I LOVE A MYSTERY" with Jack, Doc, and Reggie and "INNER SANCTUM."
Well, our new neighbor was the topic of our conversation in the steel yard the entire week. We thought of a hundred, pranks to pull on him that would irritate him even more the coming Friday night. We settled on placing a paper bag, with you can imagine what inside, soaking it with Benzene and setting it on fire, on his porch; which we did.
Now it was agreed that everyone had to be on the porch when we played this prank. To make sure everyone shared the same risk of being caught. After lighting the bag and ringing the doorbell, some leaped over the banister, others jumped down the porch steps and we all hide near by.
Out he came again, quick as a wink, spotted the bag on fire and he stomped out the fire. He started screaming and hollering profanities until his wife came and pulled him in the house.
His house had a large side yard just south of it. After he went inside and everything seemed to settled down, we took a short cut through their side yard on the way the alley when all of the sudden, on went the back-porch light. It caught us completely by surprise and we all "hit the dirt" as the old army saying goes.
We all knew to wear dark clothing so we couldn't be seen easily at night. We were all lying flat on the ground so we wouldn't be seen. His wife was scolding him and he was taking off his soiled shoes he had been wearing all along swearing he as going to call the police. Well, that got our attention!
The next day "Saturday" there were police cars patrolling all over Dogtown. Most of us gathered at our usual place at the handball court and decided we had better lay low. So we went to the Jewish Orphan Home playground on Clayton & Oakland and mingled with the kids there for most of the day. We decided it wouldn't be wise to traveling in a group so we broke up and made our way home using different streets to get home.
Again the new neighbor was the talk among us in the school yard. We decided that setting the bag on fire wasn't the wisest thing to do. In fact we all agreed it was quite stupid. We might have set, the wooden, porch of fire and caused serious damage.
Our second plan was less dangerous but far more insidious. In the early 1940s (for the younger readers), we had garbage trucks. Trash went into the ash pit and garbage in the garbage bucked. The garbage was picked up weekly at the front curb by the City Garbage Collectors. Garbage disposals weren't available then. So every family had a garbage can or bucket on their back porch or somewhere where its odor wouldn't be noticed.
We figured Mr. X would be lying in wait for us this week and might even have the police looking for us as well. So we decided to skip all our usual houses and wait to see if any police cars were patrolling the area. A few decided it was too risky and didn't participate in our second caper. We waited until much later to launch our second attack. We figured they would've gotten tired waiting by the door trying to catch us by then.
We took their garbage can, cut a piece of clothesline from their clothesline in rear yard. Then tied the clothesline to the handle. We took the lid off of the garage can brought it around to the front and balanced it on the porch banister. We tied the other end of the clothesline to the doorknob and rang the doorbell.
When he jerked the door open to catch us, the garbage can, with its garbage flew through the air hit the porch and some, of the garbage, entered the house.
This time we felt we over did it and began to feel quite guilty. Somehow, we allowed our prank to go too far. It wasn't very funny for us as we watched, from our hiding place, at the trouble we caused them. They had to carry pans of hot water and sweep the garbage off the porch.
This time we didn't talk much about what we did fearing it would get back to the neighbor and we would be in real trouble. I became very scared when my mother asked me if I had anything to do with what happened to the neighbor. I lied of course, and then had to worry about telling one of the priests what I had done in confession the next Saturday. Some of the priest could tell who we were from our voice. Particularly some of us Alter boys who served mass with the pretty often.
Reflecting back on it after all these years, I never had a thought about confessing any of our other pranks in confession before that one. It was an all time low for us. I suppose it was because they were new neighbors and we hadn't gotten to know them well enough.
Later I think we all tried to make it up to that family by being extra polite and being very nice to their children, our soon to be regular playmates, once we got to know them better. They all so went to St. James and we became great friends. I don't believe anyone every told them we were responsible for their parents problems.
Perhaps other parents talked to them about our history of playing pranks on Friday nights and not to take them seriously. They may have asked them to beg their pardon for us. Knowing that some of their children were responsible for the prank. At least I hope they did.
Now don't get your dander up. This prank was played on Dogtown family's years before we pulled ours. And I surely don't want to be blamed from all such similar pranks. Where do you think we got the idea? From the older kids who had outgrown their doorbell nights. Hay it was a part of growing up in Dogtown in the 1940s.
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Playing with explosives.
Carbide capers...carbide came in small chunks and had many uses in the 30 and '40s. One of its most common uses was in minors and camping reflective lamps; because created more light over a wider area than a flashlight was much cheaper and lasted longer than flashlights. When mixed with water carbide creates gas vapor that is flammable. When the gas is ignited, the light from the flame is reflected by a highly polished piece of metal. A screw like device that opens and closes an opening from which the gas is escaping controls the brightness of the light.
Karo Syrup used to come in a pint or quart can with a lid. Similar to paint can today. Because it was difficult or at least cumbersome to get the lid off the can each time you wanted syrup there were syrup dispensers that you would fill similar to the one you see in Pancake Houses today.
We used to look for empty syrup cans in ash pits so we could blow them up. It was a real find and a special event for us. We all used to watch the level in our syrup cans, at home; to be sure we didn't miss retrieving it from the trash headed for the ash pit. We would clean it up and save it for the coming Saturday.
We would buy a small amount of carbide from Lehman Hardware and put a small portion into the syrup can and add a little water. Then we would clamp the lid down on the can and take cover. In a few moments the, accumulation of gas in the can would cause it to explode and blow the lid off the can. The lid would sometimes fly twenty or twenty-five feet in the air with a loud explosion.
Because carbide comes in rock like chucks and it's difficult to measure the exact amount it takes to blow the lid of the can without blowing the entire can up. Sometimes we would get as many as ten explosions from one can if we were lucky and no grownup spotted us. Other times the can would blow up at the seam and we could only use it once. When that happened the can could and would fly in any direction, not necessarily up in the air. On those occasions it was possible to get hit by the can. So we took precautions to put plenty of distance between the can and us. Or hide behind something that would stop the can if came flying in our direction.
We used to do this at the north end of the school yard, the portion that wasn't fenced. In the rear of George Shaffery's house but far enough so Mr. or Mrs. Shaffery couldn't see us.
Forest Park Streetcar
I can only recall pulling this prank once. It scared the hell out of us so we never tried it again.
I know some of you readers had an occasion to ride the Creve Coeur Dinky. It was one of those one way single track streetcar lines that when the streetcar reached the end of the line it would return back to its original starting point on the same track. The motormen would get off the dinky and unlatch the arm that touched the electric wires that it used to direct the electric current to the motor at that end of the streetcar, and tie it down. He would then go to the other end of the streetcar and untie the arm, at that end, and attach it to the electric wire, which would allow the streetcar to reverse its direction, without having to turn the entire street car around. The motorman could operate the dinky from either end.
He would then reverse the seats so the passengers would be facing the conductor's back and be facing the direction the streetcar was going, while seated in the dinky. The seats could be rotated at the end of the line. So that what was the backrest of the seat going in one direction became the seat when going the other direction. This allowed the dinky to travel in both directions on a single set of tracks.
I mention this because I believe that is where we learned that the streetcars got their power from that rod that went from the rear of the street car to the over head wire that supplied the electricity streetcar's power.
Most people who lived in Dogtown are familiar with Forest Park streetcar route, which ran along Oakland Avenue in Dogtown. From Hampton Avenue it went down hill to Tamm Avenue and then began a slow assent to McCausland Avenue and Skinker Blvd.
Without fully understanding the ramifications of what would happen if the power were cut off. We decided to disconnect the rod in the rear of the streetcar from its electrical source of power, and have the lights go out scaring the passengers while the motorman had to get off the streetcar and reattach the electric cable.
In reality when we did that the streetcar lost all power and began to roll down the hill from Hampton Avenue towards Tamm Avenue. We didn't know how to tie down the electric cable and rod. The connecting rod would strike the electric cable causing sparks to fly each time it came near or touched electric cable. When it touched the power line the lights in the streetcar flickered on and off, which frightened the customer's. And the motorman kept clanging the warning bell on the streetcar, which created more chaos among the passengers.
When the streetcar lost all its power and the motorman the ability to use the brakes to stop the streetcar. The streetcar traveled rather slowly in the beginning but as it reached the steeper grade it picked up speed. We run along side of it, on the sidewalk, for quite a few yards and watch the chaos on board.
We hadn't anticipated the motorman couldn't use the breaks to stop the car. We only wanted to require him to get off the streetcar and replace the rod that connected to the overhead electric wire.
We stopped chasing after the streetcar, half way between Hampton and Tamm because the streetcar was traveling faster than with our shorts legs could carry us. When the streetcar reached Tamm Avenue at the foot of the hill it continued quite a ways up the hill towards High Pointe a little way passed Louisville. Then it started rolling backwards down the hill towards Tamm.
The momentum carried the streetcar past Tamm and went partly up the hill towards Hampton Avenue, not quite to the Hospital. Then it reversed itself again traveling down the hill finally stopping between Art Hill Street and Tamm Avenue.
This prank was one of those which had unintended consequences. The people on the streetcar were very scared not to say how upset the motorman was.
We didn't realized how dangerous this prank was going to become. It was the last time that we play that prank. And to my knowledge that was the only prank we played north of Wade Avenue. Many of our friends north of Wade Avenue participate in that prank. In fact I think those guys had the bright idea to do it. Manchester Avenue was too level to try that any streetcar pranks like that, and the traffic on Manchester was much heavier than Oakland Avenue.
Farm on Mitchell
In the 1940s there was a farm on the South side of Mitchell Avenue that extended from Louisville Avenue almost to Manchester Avenue. I don't know the owner's name but I remember we used to raid his crops (Victory Garden) from time to time depending on the growing season.
We would swipe his tomato's, grapes, watermelons, and in the fall his pumpkins. He had a couple of dogs pinned up in his rear yard that would create a big fuss when we tried to sneak into the field on our raids. So we had to be pretty quick. Ever try running with a watermelon when you were twelve or thirteen? I can tell you it's not easy. We dropped quite a few. But we would pick up the pieces and enjoy our plunder somewhere under a street light on Sanford Avenue or Dale Avenue.
Eating warm tomatoes and watermelons wasn't all that tasty. But we knew People in Europe were starving, so we felt duty bound to eat our contraband. That is of course the pumpkin. We made jack-a-lantern's out of them. Cutting the stems on the watermelons and pumpkins was a difficult task with a scout knife. If we knew in advance we were going to raid the farmer's field we would take along a sharp hunting knife. With the long blade we could cut the vine faster and slice the Watermelon is nicer pieces.
We raided many Victory Gardens throughout the south end of Dogtown during the early 1940s during W.W.II. Why would we do such a thing you might ask? Seemed like a good idea at the time is the only answer I can give you.
Bill Vorbeck - Class of '47
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John Corbett corbettj@swbell.netFrom John Corbett
I remember when I was a child in 1958 and a group of the Tamm Ave. gang would carouse around LLoyd Avenue looking for mischief. We would pick the apples off Tony Piaza's tree in his back yard at 6475 LLoyd. I remember the address because I bought the house in 1976 and lived there for twenty years. One time myself and an older kid Larry Mugavero picked some apples (or stole some apples!) and old Tony chased us and Larry got caught. I got away and went home to hide, scared to death! I saw Tony walking Larry up to the Mugavero house and cussing in Italian. He was handling Larry in a rough manner and Mrs. Newralls stopped him in front of her hobby store on Tamm and Wade. She made Tony realize that Larry's crime was not so serious and actually got Tony to make friends with young Larry! She was a saint because all was forgotten and I got away with my end of the deal! Many years later when I bought the house, the apple trees were gone but the memories were still there. I played soccer and baseball with my kids in that small yard remembering the events of my youth. What a neighborhood! Live keeps repeating itself in Dogtown and we are fortunate for it! The other day I heard a familiar laugh from my back yard and I looked over a couple of yards to seen Christine Quinn in her dad's back yard ( Mr. Quinn was buried last Wednesday). I twas the same laugh as I heard as a kid and I reminded her of that! She replied that she remembered me as Donuts and I hadn't changed much either. She inquired about my cousin Jim who she had a crush on at age 15!! It's something about Dogtown that rekindles so many memories! I have seen her a couple of times since then and she is getting the house ready for sale. I told her it was good to have her back and she should stay! Her laugh brings back the good times.
John Corbett
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Jennie (Bohnenkamp) Gnau
When I was reading about the mischief in the garden, I began to think of what things we had done to make a little mischief. Being of a different time and gender, the only mischief I remember was soaping car windows and TPing on Halloween and an occasional Ding, Dong, Ditch. I do also recall climbing through a very small broken out window, which let us into an old abandon cleaners near Highpoint. We would slide down the clothes chute from one floor to the next. It was great fun but most of the time we would have to scurry out of the building and hide from the police in nearby alleys and backyards. I am not sure how they knew we were in there or what the consequences would have been, but we certainly didn't want to stick around to find out what would be done with us. They didn't board up the window for a very long time, so ever so often we would find ourselves back there laughing and sliding, having a great time. Oh what fun it was to be a kid in Dogtown.
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Working around the church when we were young as Alter Boys we did a lot of exploring in the basement of the church. I already related how we used to substitute in ringing the church bells from time to time. Some of our other duties were to check the bathroom down stairs to see that they were clean etc. We checked to see that brand new stoker-coal hopper was filled with coal for the furnace. Sam the janitor or custodian took care of taking the clinkers and ashes from the furnace and maintained the boiler.
In the process of doing all that, one, who's name I won't mention, noticed a four foot by five foot square opening in the inside wall on the north west side inside of the furnace room. Young and inquisitive we just had to explore it to see where it led. It was also about that time that we were learning about the catacombs in or religion classes.
So as you might have already guessed we decided we would investigate this strange opening. There was only one problem. It was dark in there: very dark and we had no light. So we improvised and got a few candles that were lying around and used them.
Now don't be getting your Irish dander up. These were candles that were already used and removed from the altar waiting to be disposed of. They were only a couple of inches long and had been replaced by new ones on the altar. We saw no harm in taking them because they were going to be pitched anyway.
Well, we crawled on our hands and knees all around the tunnels, which crisscrossed under the church. As you can guess it was filled with cobwebs and our first adventure was getting through that mess. But once they were cleared out we had no problems making our way around in the tunnel. The tunnel, were in fact the heating system. The tunnels were for the steam pipes that carried the hot water to the hot water radiators along the outside walls of the church, and just big enough for the workers to put them in and work on them if they ever needed replacement.
It soon became a playground for many of us. P. J. O'Connor was very please to see all us young boys in church at all hours of the day during the weekends. None of the other priests knew of our secret either. Mum was the word and one of the best kept secretes among quite a few of us.
I imagine to this very day you can travel through those heat tunnels and see our initials on the ceilings that were written using the carbon from the candles we used to find our way. Later of course we used our own flashlights to find our way in the tunnels.
It was quite an adventure for us but one with risks, which I think we delighted in. It was a special event that few in our gang knew about and one of the best kept secretes I believe we ever pulled off Until now that is!
Bill Vorbeck - Class of 1947
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From Mike Hefele
Mike Hefele MHefele@paulo.comWhile attending St. James, we had heard rumors for years about a tunnel under the church. The was even one about a tunnel from the convent to the church that the nuns used during bad weather.
This is the first verification of the tunnels that I have ever heard of. It was a well kept secret.
Mike Hefele, Class of 57.
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From Bill Vorbeck
Grab a Kleenex for its a sad tale, indeed, you'll be reading today.
I have a question for Sister Thomas More Duncan or any nun reading this sad tale? What did you Nuns do with the "Peashooters" you took from us wee children? Tell me now, if you would, did they go to "Peashooter" heaven? I must know.
Today you can't get a child look at pea. Much less put them into their mouth and put them to the good use, god intended em. Which was, to be sure, to become proficient at hitting a still or moving target within range without a priest or nun catching you. When, may I ask ... did kids stop shooting peas at each other and any dog, cat, windows, cars, metal signs, street lights, I ask?
'Tis a wonder no one ever slipped and injured themselves walking the Dogtown sidewalks and streets, littered with thousands upon thousands of peas. For the most part they were seasonal. To tell the truth I don't remember if it was at pea harvest season or Halloween. I vaguely recall it was in the fall or autumn season.
We used them as "Toys" but you nuns acted as if they were dangerous weapons. "Why you could put a child's eye out with one of those things," they'd scold. They reprimand us: and as if that wasn't bad enough. Threaten to call our parents or tell Father P. J. O'Connor.
Then to add insult to injury, commandeer our peashooter and our un-spent bag of peas; without a thought reading us our Maranda Rights. Mind ya 'tis true! I had it happen, to me, many times. Nuns would take our private property without batting an eye ... as if, it 'twas nothing at all. I! as if there was no law in the statute's against illegal search and seizure of private property.
And as big as you please, after that grave injustice, when it came time for your history lessons, just as high and mighty as you please. They would pontificate on the sanctity of US Constitution, the personal freedoms it provided all and the Bill of Rights. Kin ya believe it man?
Now I'm askin ya? Today, Nun or no, if the police were notified of the gross injustice you would have been told to return the peashooter to its rightful owner or face incarceration for violating our constitutional rights. I ya would today! And if ya refused to return the peashooter, by god You'd be read your Maranda Rights and taken into custody. I! That you would, straight away.
You know? I don't believe you nuns quite understood the meaning of property right when it came to children. I don't ever recall ever getting a peashooter back. And I'm required to remind ya, they cost every bit of ten cents. I a tidy some if I do say so me shelf, in those days.
Come clean on this... Sister: did you trash the peashooters or send them to the poor children in faraway lands. Are did you nuns use them against one another within the seclusion and confines of the convent walls? Ha Ha! I think I know: but I'll leave that to Sister Duggan and her coconspirators to confess. And by the way sister, I'm reminding ya, as children we've been told many many times, and I'm reminding ya now to "Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil." Now tis your turn, to come clean. Tis for a good cause I'm askin. For we old timers need have our closure regarding our confiscated peashooters.
You know a boy's Peashooter was very special. And they weren't all alike ya know even though they might have looked alike. Some were much better than others. When we lost your very best peashooter a little part of us died. I tis closure we seek. Oh how grownups trample on wee children's feelings.
I've got to stop now before I start to weep myself at this sad tale for you know I'm a segmental soul... I am!
Bill Vorbeck class of '47
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