Thursday, February 18, 2016

Growing Up in the 1930’s and 1940’s: Part Time Jobs By Aunt CB and Uncle Jack



Six years ago, for a family newsletter, Mom and Dad wrote this about their part-time jobs:

From Aunt CB:
I think I am probably the Queen of the ‘summertime jobs’ club! You must remember that I grew up during the Depression. I didn’t get a weekly allowance nor did I know anyone who did! And if I wanted to be ‘in style’, I had to shag myself along and earn the money for my own school clothes—therefore—


Lucille Taylor, nursing school



1939—I was 12 years old and plenty old enough to amuse my piano teacher’s five year old son from 9AM to 12 noon on Saturdays. Got no pay but only had to pay fifty cents for piano lessons at 8:30AM!

1940—Now I got into the real money! Got $2 a week for watching my science teacher’s two boys from 9AM until 12 noon all summer. Picked strawberries and raspberries at the Experimental Station in the afternoons.

1941—I helped hold a family of five children (ages 2-8) together for the summer   ( I was 14!). The grandfather did the wash, I gathered it from the lines after he hung it, and I folded and ironed it. I also made the beds, fixed lunches, played with the kids and saw that they did chores. I earned $10 per week.

1942—This summer I worked at Grant’s 10 cents store in Geneva. What fun as sailors came in to buy gifts to send home and needed packaging material also. So we helped them wrap to send.

1943—This summer I worked at the Almarco Printing Press in the center of downtown. They printed catalogs, books and papers, and the jobs were interesting—printing, folding, sewing spines—right up my alley.

1944—Big time now, at 17 years old. I worked at the American Can Company as a speed drill operator. This was wartime and I was sure I was drilling parts for a machine gun to use against the enemy. I was so proud—only to be told, ‘No, that’s a part for a beer machine!’

1945—18 now and I became a telephone operator at the Geneva exchange. It was a busy time as Sampson Naval base and the Army depot, both located on Seneca Lake near the city, channeled all sorts of calls through the office. Most exciting was the end of the war in August when the city was full to bursting with service men and women, all thronging the streets, bells ringing, fire horns blasting and as we finished work at 9:30PM, hardly a clear or safe path to get home. Some night!

Yes, all these jobs bought my school clothes and I had some savings to share to help Doris through school. However, when I lived at Heffernons I paid $5 per week for room and board, and money evaporated!

Luckily for me, the US government needed nurses and passed the Bolton Act in 1943, establishing the Nurses Cadet Corps. This paid hospital schools of nursing to train students and even gave a stipend of $15 per month for the first 15 months, $21 for the next 12 months, and finally, when you really had some ability to help, $30 per month for the last 9 months. 

Lucille Taylor, Trudeau Institute at Saranac Lake
NY State Student Nurse of the Year, 1947


There were extras needed—shoes, white stockings, cape, special school needs, but student uniforms were included in the government package. When I ran short, and I did, I borrowed from Harold, who was back in Waterloo High School, spending Saturdays cleaning hen houses so I could buy the work uniforms I needed! Is it any wonder I love him?

From Uncle Jack:


Jack Kinsella, taken 1948


When I thought about it, I had a wide variety of part time jobs, starting with a newspaper route right after I bought my first bike (it cost $8 paid for by picking cherries at a local farm). At that time, the daily paper plus the Sunday one cost 18 cents a week. I remember that because when I stopped to collect my money at a bar on Swift Street, I was always paid with 18 pennies. I can’t remember what my weekly earnings were from this paper route but one year I received a bonus. The newspaper had a contest about ‘interesting observations’ and was awarding $5 for the best ‘observation’. I wrote about my paper route and said my first customer was named Lincoln and my last one was named Booth. I won the $5!

Some summers I picked various crops for the local farmers and I caddied at the Cayuga Lake Golf course for two years. I also worked for the A&P grocery store waiting on customers. This was before ‘do it yourself’ shopping. A customer handed me a list and I had to run around and fill it out.

Probably the most labor intensive job I had was when I worked on the Lehigh Valley R.R. repairing their tracks. This meant pulling out old ties, replacing them with new ones and spiking them into place. 

I worked at the Woolen Mill, the Canning factory, the School Bus factory, the Wagon Shop, Patent Cereals in Geneva, and after the war, at Sampson Naval Base as it was converted to a college to serve the need of returning veterans who wished to get a college education via the GI Bill. This proved to be the most interesting job of all. I started out as a carpenter which meant remodeling barracks into dormitories for students. Somehow, two other guys and I were pulled off of our carpenter duties and given the job of running the post office for the college. None of knew a thing about running a post office, but we learned fast and I think I did a reasonably good job.

The most ‘fun’ job was the one Jack Felber and I had at the Wagon Shop, then known as the Mid-State Body Company. They had been awarded a contract to convert regular cars into station wagons. This meant cutting off the steel body and replacing it with a wooden one. We must have been 15 years old as we didn’t have driving licenses, in fact had never driven a car. Part of our job was to drive to where the cars were parked (in a Model T Ford) and bring one back for conversion. We banged up several before we learned to drive properly but the good news was that it didn’t matter. The body was cut off and thrown away: banged up or not, it didn’t matter!


Jack Kinsella and Lucille Taylor, taken 1948
At Jack and Jane Felber's wedding



Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Roxana Howe Waller By Cordelia Waller Taylor and Pat Kinsella Herdeg


Roxana Howe Waller was my three times great grandmother. Roxana was the daughter of Seth Howe and Achsa Washburn. She was born in Pennsylvania in 1802 and came to Elba, New York with her parents. In Elba, she married Orrin Waller, and bore at least seven children, one of whom was our Martha Cordelia Waller Taylor. Roxana died on Christmas day, 1858--at age 56 years.

We do not know much of Roxana, but luckily, her daughter Cordelia wrote in yearly journals and did other writings, such as poems and articles. From her, we learn a bit more about Roxana. When her mother died, Cordelia wrote:

Dec. 29th. My best of mother’s was yesterday consigned to her last resting-place, the cold—damp silent tomb. Oh! my Heavenly Father, sustain & support us through this trying hour of deepest affliction. We are sustained in view of her happy departure from this world of sin and sorrow,& the hope of again being reunited in a better world. Oh! my God, how can I bear up under this terrible blow. It is indeed, the greatest grief of my life. Nought is able to sustain me, but the all-sustaining grace of God. 


Roxana's Gravestone


But oh! my dear, dear Mother, how dearly I loved her, how dearly we all loved her, & oh! it is so hard to part with her. That holy Christmas day was her last upon earth. Sweetly did she fall asleep in Jesus & was borne by angels to that blessed land where the inhabitants say not, I am sick. Oh! our hearts are all bleeding & torn, but we are comforted when we reflect upon the sweet expressions & passages of Scripture full of happiness & trust in her “blessed Savior” that fell from her lips in her dying moments.

And a later poem echoed the pain and loss of her mother:



My Mother’s Bible, By Martha Cordelia Waller Taylor

This book is all that’s left me now,
            Tears will unbidden start.
With faltering lip and throbbing brow,
            I press it to my heart.
For many generations past,
            Here is our family tree.
My mother’s hand this Bible clasped
            She, dying, gave it me.

Ah! Well do I remember those,
            Whose names these records bear,
Who, round the hearth stove used to close,
            After the evening prayer.
And speak of what these pages said,
            In tones my heart would thrill.
Though they are with the silent dead,
            Here they are living still.

My father read this holy book
            To brothers and sisters dear!
How calm was my poor mother’s look
            Who leaned God’s word to hear
Her angel face I see it yet,
            What thrilling memories come,
Again that little group is met,
            Within the walls of home.

Thou truest friend man ever knew
            Thy constancy I’ve tried
When all were false, I found thee true
            My counselor and guide.
The mines of earth no treasure give,
            That could this volume buy,
In teaching me the way to live,
            It taught me how to die.

How I wish we had that Bible with its ‘For many generations past, Here is our family tree.’

Roxana---Thank you for being my great great great grandmother! And, Cordelia, thank you for writing about your mother so that we can feel a bit of Roxana’s spirit.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Hiking Camaraderie By Tim Kinsella

Happy New Year!

As some of us try to eat healthier and exercise more in this New Year, here is a tale for inspiration. Thank you Tim Kinsella for providing it!

As some of you know I am in the process of working to become a “46er”.  To qualify for this title you have to hike the 46 High Peaks in New York State’s Adirondack Park.  Back in the 1920’s these 46 peaks were all surveyed at greater than 4000 feet above sea level (it turns out that 4 of them are actually a bit short of that mark but the tradition of hiking all 46 still stands).  I have been working away at this quest for over 8 years.  Many of the peaks require hikes of > 15 miles round trip and all require climbing over 2000 feet of elevation from your starting point.  Many friends and relatives have gone with me on my various hikes (ask Glenn Herdeg – he keeps volunteering to do the toughest ones with me!); I expect to become a 46er during next year’s hiking season.

On September 26 I had planned to hike 3 mountains (#s 40 – 42 – Haystack, Basin, and Saddleback) with a friend (Joe) from work.  The plan was to start from the “Garden” Parking lot in Keane, NY and do all 3 in a 19 mile loop.  We knew the parking lot was very small and often filled up early in the morning so planned to be there by 5:30 AM.  We stayed at a cute Inn about 1.5 miles from the parking lot.  As we headed out to our car early on Saturday morning we passed another car parked on the road with two people sitting in it.  The passenger said in a heavy French Canadian accent “are you guys going hiking today from the Garden parking lot?  It’s already full”.  We replied that was our plan but since it was full we would follow our back up plan which was to drive 15 miles to another parking lot and only do the highest of these 3 mountains, since we could no longer do the loop to get all 3.  We’d then come back in the spring during a less busy time to pick up the other two. 

As soon as we got this out the passenger said “we’ll give you $20 bucks to take us to the parking lot and drop us off.  We’ve come all the way from Quebec and my hiking buddy here will be at 45 peaks when he gets these 3.  We don’t have a backup plan like you”.  We said “sure, we’ll take you” and they hopped in our car and the 4 of us headed up to the Garden Parking lot.  As we dropped them off at the trail head the one guy tried to pay us $20.  I told him “keep you money, we’re all friends when we hike.  This is our pleasure”.  They thanked us profusely for going out of our way and as they got out of the car I said “keep your eye out for us on Haystack”, the one peak we were both going to do.  We all laughed at the thought of how improbable that would be since we each be taking different trails and we wouldn’t get on our trail for at least ½ hour due to the back country roads that we had to navigate. 

 Tim, Joe, Francoise, and David on Haystack Mountain


Joe and I headed to the Adirondack Lodge parking lot and left for our hike at 6:00 AM.  The weather was beautiful and there were a fair amount of hikers on the trail as it was such a nice weekend (BTW Glenn – it was perfectly dry!).  We hiked for several hours and were nearing the intersection of the trail from the Garden parking lot that would join our trail and lead to Haystack Mountain.  Joe was slightly ahead of me and as I came around the corner I heard him talking to two people with French Canadian accents.  As highly unlikely as it was we had come to this trail junction at the exact moment our two passengers arrived there.  We were all startled and we quickly introduced ourselves (they were Francoise and David).  David (or “Da-veed” as he called himself) said “it must be fate”.  Francoise quickly added “we were talking about how kind you were.  We decided that if we saw you we would ask you to hike the other two mountains with us and we’ll then drive you back to your car”.  We said that would be very kind but instead of driving 1.5 miles out of their way like we did they would be driving 30 miles round trip out of their way.  Francoise said “I insist” and so it was decided. 


Heading up the cliff to Saddleback – this was the scariest ascent of any peak I have done


We spent the next 10+ hours of the hike (total hike was 13 hours, 15 minutes), talking, enjoying the views, and exchanging hiking stories.  It was an absolute pleasure and when we finished the hike we were the best of friends.  We exchanged emails and promised to try and hike again together in the spring (even though Francoise would be getting his 46th peak the following week). 

A memorable hike all started with one small act of kindness.  


The view looking west from Basin Mountain.  Haystack Mountain is to the far left; Mount Marcy, NY state’s highest peak (which I have already climbed) is to the far right.  Skylight Mountain (which Glenn and Nick Herdeg did with me in the rain) is in the middle, back. 

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL! By Pat Kinsella Herdeg


Wishing all of the TaylorBaker cousins a very Merry Christmas this year.

2015 saw our group lose two of our own:
  • ·         Mickey Hawkes, son of Aunt Doris Taylor
  • ·         Harold Baker Taylor, son of Lloyd Taylor and Ethel Baker
Both will be missed more than words can express.

The Hawkes Family at Christmas 1957--Apparently another warm December like ours this year.
Aunt Doris, Charlie, Mick, Steve, Cyndi and Uncle Bud

Uncle Harold


As many of us travel by train, car or plane this holiday season, safe travels to all!

Aunt CB and Uncle Jack, in 1971, on the move!

Evelyn June Laufer Taylor, wife of Mom’s first cousin Bryant Taylor, has written memories of some of her Christmases through the years. First up is a story about Christmas wrapping through the years, and then a story of her and Bryant’s first Christmas together:


 Christmas 1972, Esther and Dick Lochner, Evelyn and Bryant Taylor
WRAPPING UP CHRISTMAS


Christmas package styles evolve and change through the years just as clothes, houses, and cars do.  In the late 1920s and early 1930s we wrapped gifts in red or green tissue paper, fastened the ends with Christmas stickers, and tied them with red and green twisted string.

One time when I was about twelve years old, I decided to be more creative in my wrapping, so I chose white tissue paper and decorated the packages with blue stars like teachers used to reward students for good work. I glued the ends and did not use cord.

My mother had been working once a week as a companion to a wealthy woman whose husband was Vice President of Eastman Kodak Company.  When she wrapped gifts, the ends of the paper were cut even with the box’s edge and glued – 3M had not yet invented Scotch tape. 

I am not sure exactly when the colorful, printed Christmas paper came on the scene – probably in the mid-1930s, but how precious it was.  We carefully unwrapped each gift and folded the paper to use the following Christmas, for it was expensive and too pretty to throw away.

After World War II, there was a welcome release from rationing and conserving.  With more money to spend, gift paper became more lavish and the packages more glamorous.  Ready-made bows in assorted colors and sizes could be purchased in packages.  Now, it was not necessary to tie them with ribbon if you did not want to, although curling ribbon was fun to use.  Neither did paper need to be saved, for it was now affordable and plentiful.  Scotch tape had become part of our vocabulary and a staple among our household items.

Red and green tissue paper still is part of my family’s Christmas as Santa uses it for stocking presents.  There is always a brown paper bag in which to save the bows (some habits are hard to break.)  If I am lucky enough to receive a gift, wrapped in beautiful shimmery Mylar paper, I carefully fold it to save for “wrapping up Christmas” next year!

OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS

Bryant and I were married in October, 1942, so this was our very first Christmas together in our own furnished apartment, which was the upstairs of a house at 168 Mulberry St. in Rochester.  The Drews, our landlords, lived downstairs.  The living/dining room extended across the whole front of the house, so we could have a big tree.

Since we had no car then, we walked three blocks to where trees were being sold.  Big ones were expensive, but we made the decision to "go for it." Really, $5.00 was a lot of money when you only earned $60 a week!  We dragged it home on the sidewalks, excited as kids  --  but then,  we were only twenty  --  not too far from "kids" at that.

We purchased two boxes of beautiful, hand painted, large ornaments which, 60 years later, are still lovingly hung on the tree.