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Cambridgeport Massachusetts:
A Farm And A Horse:
Coke 1941
No it’s not the drug, it’s “Coal” the stuff people used
in their furnace (people lucky enough to have a furnace) way, way back in the
1930’s and 40’s, read on.
One Day In January, 1941:
I am 14 years of age, I will
turn 15 this coming May, WWII won’t begin until December, my Mother will pass
away on August 8 of this year but today on this freezing cold winter morning
she was still able to get through all the little things she did around the
house, thinking back I know she must have been going through all of the
nightmarish pain and mental anguish that Terminally Ill people have, she was
told by the doctors that she didn’t have long to live, she had been diagnosed
with incurable breast cancer, on this morning she was in the kitchen with her
overcoat on trying to get the flame up a little higher on the old kitchen stove
oil burner, it was warmer outdoors than it was in our house.
I was up and dressed early
today, several of the kids from our crowd who all lived and grew up in Greasy
Village Cambridge worked for a man named Rico Ciccarelli he owned a small Ice,
Coal and Oil Company (Community Ice And Oil) along with two draft horses and a
little grey mare named “Babe” the draft horses were called “Tom & Jerry” Tom
was our favorite he was beautiful, he was huge and very well-mannered but he
also had a little wild side to him that’s what we liked about him, when he felt
a little frisky he would prance and trot with a little side step gait and toss
his head in the air, on summer days if we should be going through Harvard or
Central Square with him we could make him do this by gently pulling on one
reign then very quickly a slight pull on the other not allowing him to turn, we
loved the attention this would get from the people in the square, especially
the girls.
Rico loved his horses he treated them like
children, we had big Red Plume Pom Pom’s we used to attach to the top of their
bridles, they looked just like Circus Horses with these big red feathers coming
right up in the air between the horses ears, this also would make the girls
look at us, Rico was smart though, many of the housewives who were Rico’s
customers would say “we always buy our ice from Rico he has such pretty white
wagons and beautiful horses”
Rico Ciccarelli was one of a kind, he was nine or ten years older than all of us and he was just like a Father or Big
Brother to us, when we were working around the barn Curry Combing the horses or
cleaning stalls he would yell at us and call us all kinds of names if we did
something wrong, while he was yelling and cursing we would run inside one of
the horse stalls and try not to let him hear us giggling and laughing, after
his temper tantrum he would buy us all some Salami sandwiches and Orange Soda
from Hymie’s Variety Store on the corner of Allston & Sidney streets.
My mother asked me if I
wanted some Oatmeal I told her it was too cold in the house to eat, there was a
knock on the door it was Rico’s younger brother Johnny we had to deliver a Ton
Of Coke (coal) today, I lived on the third floor Johnny and I ran down the
stairs and I said to Johnny “wait a minute I have to get my smokes” my parents
hated smoking besides I was only fourteen (I stopped smoking in 1970) I used to
hide my cigarettes under the stairs on the first floor, I reached in under the
stairs and they were gone, I knew immediately what had happened, the women that
lived alone on the first floor must have stolen them, I said to Johnny “that
old bag that lives in here must of taken my cigarettes and I think she had a
guy in there sleeping with her last night” I said “they must both be in bed
lets wake them up” Johnny started laughing, a little fun at 7:00 AM.
I said to Johnny “hold the door open and
when I run out you follow me we will have to get out of here fast in case they’re
already up” then I went over to the women’s door and started pounding on it and
screaming as loud as I could I tried to sound like I was being murdered then I
began yelling “wake up you dirty bitch” that was it, Johnny and I were out of
there like we were shot out of a cannon, we were running and laughing our heads
off then we turned and looked back the women was out in the street in the snow
screaming something we yelled a few four letter words back at her and were on
our way, I didn’t think she would tell my mother she didn’t want to stir things up in the
apartments because she always had different guys sleeping with her but I could
picture my poor mother sitting at the kitchen table with her oatmeal listening
to me yelling downstairs, I told her that night that the slut started it all
and I would handle it, I said “she’s crazy, she’ll forget all about it” sure
enough a few days later she was hanging around on the front stairs with us, she
said to me “where do you keep your cigarettes now” I said “none of your effing
business” I loved those old time city people, we always had something to laugh
about even though we were all starving and freezing to death, I’m glad my
father wasn’t home that morning he would have gone nuts if he heard me
screaming and calling her “a bitch”.
After all of the bad times
during the 1930’s things seemed to be getting a little better and my father had
just gone to work for the Watertown Arsenal, America sensed the Coming War, little
did we know it was only a few months away.
The barn where Rico’s horses
were kept was located on Sidney Street between Erie and Allston streets, there
also were two other horses owned by a
Fruit Peddler and a Rag Man that were stalled here, the barn had about eight
small stand up stalls (horses sleep standing up, I’ve tried it but I fell down)
these stalls had a small opening in the ceiling over the stall at the horses
head where we could drop hay down from the loft above.
The fruit peddler and the ragman usually
didn’t do much during the bad winter months so we always told them when we had
a job to do and they would give us fifty cents to feed and water their horses
then clean up their stalls.
We gave Tom a good pail full
of oats because he had to work hard this morning, they were predicting heavy
snow and it had already started coming down a little, while the horse was
eating we got the Harness all ready and we put a pile of burlap bags in the
wagon, each bag held a hundred pounds of coal we counted out twenty five just
in case some would have holes in them.
Tom was all through eating
and drinking his water now he was getting restless he knew he was going out
today and the Oats were starting to go to work, he wanted some action.
We had another kid coming
with us this morning, Sonny Malone, Sonny came in just as we were backing Tom
out of his stall, two of us carried the Harness out into the barnyard and the
other led Tom out, Tom was already prancing and tossing his head around, we had
the horse harnessed and hooked up to the wagon in about fifteen minutes, we
climbed up on the wagon and put the big blanket we had under the seat over our
legs, then we lit up our cigarette’s and were on our way, we didn’t bother
dressing Tom up with his red feathers today we were the only people out on the
streets so we didn’t care what he looked like. We told Sonny about the woman
that stole my cigarettes and what we did to her, during the summer we used to
catch eels in the Charles River, Sonny said “we should put an eel in her ice
box this summer” she was one of Rico’s customers I said “that’s a great idea
we’ll do it” she moved before we had the chance, she probably skipped out on
the rent, a lot of people did that back then.
Now we were hungry, Tom wanted to trot
but we didn’t let him we didn’t want him getting sweaty and then standing still
while we ate, it was too cold so we kept him at a slow walk, the streets were
deserted not a car in sight, it’s hard to believe driving through the city of
Cambridge today that not long ago you could walk these streets and not see
another person or automobile anywhere, many streets had no parked cars either
but just before WWII broke out there were still plenty of Horse Drawn delivery
wagons (hoods milk, rag men, fruit peddlers, fresh fish wagons and of course
Rico Ciccarelli’s “Community Ice & Oil” along with several other Ice and
Oil men.
We parked our wagon in front of Hayes
& Bickford on Mass Ave and attached a weight to Tom’s bridle, this weight
rested on the ground many peddlers used these in case something startled the
horse or if the horse just decided to wander off, most street horses in those
days were well trained from hours on the streets to just stay put until we told
them to move, during the summer months we would be constantly on the move going
from house to house delivering Ice, when we came out of one house and wanted to
move on to the next all we had to do was give a little click with our tongue
and walk beside the horse he would follow along right beside us until we told
him to stop, he would stay there for as long as we wanted him too, Tom was also
trained to stay in place by just throwing the reigns over his back, Tom
probably would have stayed right there without any restraint but the oats were really
kicking in.
After our Cream Of Wheat we
were ready to go we had a Ton Of Coke to load and deliver, we headed down Mass
Ave to Main St then on down Main for about two blocks and tuned left onto
Portland St, back in those days there was a Coal Yard on Portland street that
supplied the delivery trucks and wagons, we pulled Tom into the coal yard and
then went under a large Coal Bin where we could control the flow of coal that
came down from above by using a large lever that also came down from the Coal Storage
bin above, one of us sat on the seat to handle Tom and two of us remained on
the back of the wagon to fill the twenty bags with the coal from above, an
adjustable chute that could be lowered or raised depending on the desired
height we needed to make filling the bags as easy as possible, we would then
put the bag opening over the bottom of the chute one of us would then stand by
the lever while the other steadied the bag, when the lever was pulled the coal
would come down the chute filling the bag in about ten seconds then the kid on
the lever would push it up to stop the flow, both of us would then place the
full bag in the front of the wagon, this was all repeated until the twenty bags
had been filled and stacked all the way to the rear of the wagon the kid
holding Tom would move Tom up a few feet each time we told him too until we
reached the back and were finished, a very well trained horse had to be used
for the coal wagons as the noise from the coal coming down the chute would have
panicked a normal untrained animal.
Johnny would run in and sign the paperwork, Rico
would pay the bill at a later date.
Today’s Coke delivery was a
two family home on Watson St, we were familiar with this house as it was one of
Rico’s regular customers and it was an easy delivery. We went down Mass Ave to
Brookline St, we turned left onto Brookline (Brookline St was a two way street
back then) Watson St was 5 or 6 blocks up Brookline, we arrived at the house
and pulled the wagon up with the rear as close to the yard gate as possible.
This was considered an easy delivery because we only had to carry the bags
about 30 feet in to the cellar window.
We had three or four coal chutes and a couple
of coal shovels attached to the side of the wagon, one of us would go down into
the cellar and open the window which was located right above the Coal Bin, if a
home had a coal furnace put in the coal bin was always built directly under the
nearest window. The two kids up in the yard would slide one of the chutes into
the window the kid down in the coal bin would position it and then he would
stand back and wait, the two kids in the yard would start lugging the bags,
these bags were emptied one at a time onto the chute the kid down in the cellar
would watch the coal pile up and then when it started to get close to the chute
he would yell up and tell them to stop, he would then use his shovel to spread
the coal and make room for the rest of the load.
After handling Coal all
morning we were covered with coal dust, I can’t remember anybody I knew in the
late 1930’s or early 40’s that had a shower in their home, many didn’t even
have bathtubs at the time I didn’t, we used to wash in the kitchen with a
bucket of hot water, soap and large wet towels but not today, after making our
delivery we headed for “Hoyt Field”.
It was snowing pretty hard
now but we were kids we loved it, Tom our big giant draft horse loved it too,
he was tossing his head and prancing so we allowed him to trot for a while then
we would walk him for the rest of the way to make sure he was dry while he
waited for us.
Hoyt Field is located between
Western Avenue and River Streets in the Howard Street area it remains there
today, it was and I guess still is an Athletic Field where baseball and
football games were played, at the head of the field there was a small brick
building with lockers and showers this is where we headed, these showers could
also be used by the public, for the price of 10 cents we were able to take a
hot shower and get the coal dust out of our hair. This didn’t take long, Tom
was waiting it was now time to head back to the barn, the coke was delivered,
we were cleaned up and the snow was still coming down, the wagon was empty and
Big Tom didn’t have any problems pulling it through the snow.
After arriving at the barn
and backing the wagon into the shed we unhooked Tom and led him into the barn
where we “cross tied” him (stand him in the center of the barn with a line
running from each side of his halter secured to the wall) then we Curry Combed
him, Brushed him down, then lifted each hoof and picked his feet clean, after
dropping some hay down from the loft into Toms stall then doing the same with
The Rag Man, The Fruit Peddler and Rico’s two other Horses (Babe & Jerry)
we were done. This was just one day, we had many more deliveries like this one
during the winter months but I always remembered this one because of the woman
on the first floor stealing my cigarettes.
Tom The Draft Horse (the
gentle giant) & Ted Malone’s Farm:
WWII came and went, some of
the “kids” who worked the wagons with us went off to war, some never returned
(all told eleven young men from our corner died fighting in WWII)
We are all now 19, 20 years of age, Tom The
Draft Horse is still alive, we all have moved on to other jobs, the horse drawn
wagons are now fading into history.
Sonny Malones father was a Cambridge
Firefighter his name was Ted Malone, I believe it was in or just around 1945
that Ted retired he and his wife bought a farm up in Plaistow NH, he also
purchased Tom The Draft Horse and one of Rico’s wagons.
Getting a horse and wagon from
Cambridge Mass to Plaistow NH.
One of Sonny’s younger
brothers. Robert (Bob) Malone and a friend of his, Billy Stafford drove the
Horse and Wagon to Teds new farm, it took them 14 hours, Mrs Malone (Sonny’s
mother) packed them a big lunch and a couple of gallons of Cool Aid, they also
had two feed buckets with straps that went over Toms head, one for oats and one
for water.
Ted Malone’s Farm:
For the next couple of
summers Teds farm was our new playground, Ted knew what he was doing, he would
say to Sonny, Robert and another brother Johnny “bring your friends up this
week end they can sleep in the barn” the first thing he did when we arrived was
hand us a paint brush, he even had us up on the roof repairing the chimney, we
did it gladly this was a weekend off the streets, we would travel up to the
farm in a three or four car caravan always keeping each other in sight in case
somebody broke down.
Johnny, Sonny and myself were
all going steady now with three girls from Cambridge, Bernice, Lois and my girl
Barbara these three girls would later become our wives.
Across the street from the farm there was a
very large field Ted Malone used to mow it every year and we would all put the
hay up in the loft for Tom to eat through the winter, one morning my girlfriend
and I walked over to the fence to watch Tom grazing in the field I was telling
my girl about our days working with Tom on the streets I also started bragging
about how we used to ride these giants bareback on Sunday mornings for about
ten blocks up Putnam Avenue to a big field that was owned by a Collar Factory,
Rico had leased the field for his horses to graze in on Sunday’s (their day
off).
We all had a good summer that
year going up to Ted Malone’s farm every weekend, bonfires, singing and
drinking beer, Mrs Malone and her older daughters would always make sure the
girls slept in the farmhouse and and the boys slept in the barn. One week end I
asked Ted if I could take Tom for a ride around the pasture Ted knew that Sonny
and I had worked many days with Tom on the streets so he just said “go ahead” I
took Toms bridle and a set of long wagon reigns, I would have to shorten the
reigns by folding them, these were bareback rides on giant draft horses we all
did it many times when working for Rico.
Mrs Malone gave me an apple I
would have to use this if Tom was at the far end of the field, there was a tin
bucket by the fence gate with a stick in it this was used to call Tom in, I
banged on the bucket with a piece of wood at the other side of the pasture I
could see Toms head come up from grazing I banged again and he came trotting
towards me he knew I would have a treat for him, nobody banged that bucket
unless they had something to give him.
Tom was a giant, I had to lead him over to
the fence then I would climb up on the fence in order to mount him, of course
now I was showing off for my girlfriend, it felt great to be riding Tom again
especially out in the country in a huge field instead of the city streets, Tom
had regular metal shoes now Rico always used the Hard Rubber shoe for the
streets, well I did some fancy riding trotting and galloping around the pasture
making sure to glance over to see if my girlfriend was watching, some people
say horses are a little stupid and have very small brains with short memory but
I know that Tom remembered me that day, this was also the last time I would ever see
Tom.
This must have been the
summer of 1946, it was the last time I went to the farm, I married my
girlfriend in February of 1947.
One day I don’t remember when but it must
have been sometime in 1948 I ran into Sonny Malone in Central Square he told me
that Tom was gone he became sick and had to be put down, a great horse that
would follow you around like a little dog, draft horses truly are The Gentle Giants.
I rode through Harvard Square recently, as my son and I were passing through the Square I silently pictured in my mind the memory of long ago of three teenagers riding down Mass Ave on a horse and wagon with a load of Coke.