SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 1
PAGE 2 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
INDEX
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The Old Wood Stove By Phil Pothier ............................ 3
October 1949 By Clifton J. (Jerry) Noble Sr ................ 4
The Apple Pickers Fall 1956 By Marilyn Chunglo ....... 8
The Great Flood - Part 2 By Elethea Goodkin ..............10
Finding Handfuls of Blessings By Jeff King .............. 14
The Mystery of Fall Colors By Carol Leonard ............. 16
Haunted in Connecticut By Todd Shiveley ..................20 Montgomery’s One Room Schools By Helen Allyn ...21
Country Cooking By Mary Kvarnstrom ....................... 22
Classifieds ..................................................................23
Through the remainder of this year, Southwoods will be running past articles retelling stories of Southwick’s past for the upcoming celebration of Southwick’s 250th Anniversary.
SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 3
It stands there in the corner
Of the barn there on the floor.
It hasn’t any chimney
And it hasn’t any door.
The top is kind of rusty,
And with dust it’s covered o’er.
But it could tell you many tales
You’ve never heard before
It has seen a lot of living
In the happy days gone by.
It’s heard a family’s laughter,
And it’s heard a baby’s cry.
It’s heard the shouts of anger,
And it’s heard a lover’s sigh.
It’s kept a family happy,
For it kept us warm and dry.
Oh, once its place was central,
In the middle of the room.
It’s friendly warmth dispelling
All the winter’s chilly gloom.
The family sat around it
In it’s cheerful cherry bloom
You could hear the red oak roaring
And the flames would crack and bloom.
But we use oil heat now a-days,
The wood pile is no more,
The chimney pipe is taken out;
We have a new tile floor.
And so the old stove’s day is gone,
It’s day of glory done.
Though I will miss the old wood stove,
It had a good long run.
The Old Wood Stove
The Old Wood Stove
By Phil Pothier
www.southwoodsmagazine.com
PAGE 4 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
By Clifton J. (Jerry) Noble Sr.
By age 23 I had acquired a driving license, a job in the survey section of the Massachusetts Department of Public Works, a 1948 Crosley sedan, and a country school-house, without electricity or running water, which I had been able to remodel into a three-room-plus-attic home for my wid-owed mother and self. We moved in April 30th.
Mother, Minnie Emerson Noble, had been nicknamed “Hester” by me. She was 61. I had been keeping a journal for six years. Its pages give October happenings.
October 9, 1949 Sunday. Yesterday Uncle Ralph Emerson came up. In about five minutes we had the last two-foot well tile in position. (Through the summer I had dug a ten-foot deep well on the 2 ½ acre lot across Herrick Road from our school-house. I found water seven feet down. Five two-foot sections of 24-inch-diameter tile lined the sides. A board top could be lifted to dip out water with a bucket, and eventually supported a hand pump.)
Percy Helms, who lives a mile north up Carrington Road brought us two cords of firewood today. He said the ruined Pickett house on Pomeroy Road at the end of Shatterack Pond has been sold. (The pond has a floating island.)
October 13, 1949 Thursday. (1:00 a.m.) Yesterday had grand weather for a holiday. I dug a hole across the road and cleaned our outhouse—two wheelbarrows (lined with news-paper) full. The quicklime we’ve been using made things dry and almost odorless. I washed the shovel and took a bath in the brook.
The old timber bridge over Bear Den Brook one tenth mile
south of the house has been removed. The crane left last night. Four men are building forms for high concrete footings to support a new metal arch. I haven’t liked the idea of being without a bridge. A strong north west wind all day makes me think what might happen if a forest fire got started. Mount Tekoa was burn-ing tonight when we passed it on the way home. The Russell telephone opera-tor said the fire started about four o’clock. There is not much danger of its traveling four miles up this way. Clear as the day has been a dark bank of clouds blew in with the northwest wind. At home I went out and prayed for rain more fervently than I thought I could. I thanked God for taking care of his forests and all those who love to live in them. While I stood there drops began to fall. Showers continued all evening and now the woods are wet enough to be out of danger.
Our stopping tonight was the first time Ethel Helms has met Hester. She invited her to visit and offered a ride with the oxen. All Mrs. Helms’ cattle look as though someone loved them.
The morning of September 29 my Crosley gave out on me. I asked my survey party chief, Louis Johnson, for the day off and went to see what could be done. To repair the Crosley would take too long so I left it for Charlie’s Gas Station to sell and bought a ’37 Plymouth from Leader Chevrolet. Right away I replaced battery and connections, starter switch, changed oil and filter, flushed radiator and got it lubricated so it is in better condition that when I bought it.
Today we had a visit from Mr. Phillips who sold me the Plymouth. He now works for Holcombs in Westfield. With the bridge out and road closed he had to park across the brook and walk so was puffing when he arrived. He said a new Plymouth 2-door sedan had come in and the party who ordered didn’t want it. Were we interested? We were.
We went to Holcombs at four. We prayed that if the car were not for us it would be sold. We made a down payment of $100. It is black and more streamlined than most 1949 Plym-ouths. Its price is $1,700, but Mr. Holcomb is allowing us $250 on our 1937 which is five dollars more than I paid for it two weeks ago.
October 16, 1949, Sunday. On the way home Friday I picked up groceries from the First National. Then I went to Hol-combs to get our new Plymouth. What a difference from other
OCTOBER
1949
Provincetown, 1949, photo by Clifton J. Noble Sr.
October 2009
SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 5
cars I’ve had—smooth, silent, powerful. Hester was waiting at 99 Court Street. Hester, an angel in her yellow dress, invited Aunt Florence Boyce to have the first ride in the new car when we went down to get the milk that I had forgotten..
Saturday morning I graded the driveway after bumping bottom when I drove in Friday night. We had company at noon. Early evening we visited Evelyn and Alan Beckett on Whitney Avenue in Holyoke. Evelyn is related through the Allyns. Alan asked if I would do the favor of reading one or two of his stories. When I told him I though his stories were of Atlan-tic Monthly and Harpers quality, he said those were magazines his agent was try-ing to sell to and that one had sold for $700.
October 19, 1949, Wednesday (1:00 a.m.) There had been a display of aurora borealis (northern lights) Saturday evening. Shortwave radio programs from Eu-rope didn’t come in at all. I have been reading Sunspots in Ac-tion by Harlan True Stetson, how aurora borealis is thought to result from sunspots.
Sunday morning I walked up the abandoned road to the Brant lot where Mrs. Helms keeps her cows. Along the road on the north side of that pasture are four old cellar holes with crumbling stone chimneys.
Monday morning Hester got me up at 5:30. She was going to Westfield with me but we didn’t have to leave till 7:45. I woke with a headache that was ripping by evening. A good night’s sleep cleared it.
October 22, 1949 Saturday. Some of the District 2 survey
parties are being sent to the Boston area to work. This morning we went round through Huntington to Westfield. We stopped at Rivards for my saw which Louis had sharpened and set for 75 cents. I bought antifreeze and a new shirt. On the way home we came over Montgomery mountain and stopped to see the Allyns. Town Clerk Walter was our cutting brush. His wife Maud’s garden is still a profusion of flowers. The wind is blus-tery but not cold so I can still wear shorts.
October 29, 1949, Saturday. Last week, as transit man, I went with party chief Louis Johnson and rodman Ernie Rapisarda to work in Truro on the Cape. It was suggested that we stay at the Anchor and Ark in Provincetown. The District Supervisor, Robert Broomhead, says there is even work on Nantucket Is-land. Every morning I got up early enough to take long walks up Commercial Street, out the long wharf or up past the tower. Food prices are high and only about three restaurants are op-erating. The library is small, old, incomplete, but with pleasant assistants. The only art display was a window of good watercol-ors by the Five Pfieffers. A mongrel dog waits on the top step of the Historical Museum between seven and eight. Everything’s closed from the “Lobster Pot” to the Provincetown Inn, and the Boston boat stopped running September 6.
We have had the new Plymouth in for its 1,000-mile check up, Next week I plan to drive to the Cape to meet Louis and Ernie and the survey carryall. Hester will go along to re-visit Provincetown. We are so thankful to have a good car and our own home in the mountains.
PAGE 6 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
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The Neighborhood was quiet. No children’s voices calling to each other or merry laughter. No joyous barking from the dogs as they chased an errant ball. The yellow school bus has long gone taking the children with suntanned skin and sun bleached hair, scrubbed and in their new too large clothes, off to the first day back to school. Some of the children went with regret, leaving the carefree hours behind, while others went with excised anticipation to see old friends and meet the new learning challenges that awaited them.
The blue cloudless sky added to the tranquility of the day as mothers hung the too small summer clothes, probably for the last time, on the clothes lines. Crickets chirped merrily in the long dry grass surrounding the short green grass of the lawn. The last of the Queen Anne’s Lace, spindly, falling over was being replaced by the goldenrod. Grasshoppers leaped first one way then another not knowing where they were going or why.
The phone rang breaking the silence of the day.
“Hello.”
“Hi, what cha doin?” said the voice coming from the other end of the line.
“The usual.” I answered.
“Back to normal, huh? Depressing isn’t it?”
“I heard Ed Jensen’s migrant workers aren’t coming to pick apples. He’s desperate. Interested?”
“Sure, why not.” I answered.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow after the school bus leaves. Pack a lunch, wear boots, it will be wet in the morning but bring shoes. It will be too hot to wear boots after the grass dries off. See ya.”
The next morning things were popping, getting everyone off, doing dishes, making beds, packing a lunch and gathering boots and shoes. Sure enough, shortly after the bus left I heard a toot in the driveway. I hurriedly gathered my things and ran out to the car.
It was a lovely drive up to Granville following the winding road through the Gorge. We turned right at the Old Westfield Road and rode north to Ed Jensen’s farm. There was already a group of people picking apples in the south orchard. We put on our boots and trudged through the wet grass to where the pickers were.
We were greeted by an elderly gentleman dressed in bib overalls. “Can I help you?” he asked as he approached us.
“We heard you needed pickers.” I said.
“Are you experienced?”
“Do you care?” I asked
He laughed. “Not really. I’m grateful for all the help I can get.”
“We have school children,” I said, “but if you are willing to take us on after we get the kids off to school and if we leave in time to be home before the bus comes back in the afternoon, we are willing to work.”
Mr. Jensen smiled and shook his head. “It sounds good to me. Can you climb ladders?”
Sheila grinned. “Sure piece of cake.”
Mr. Jensen showed us how he wanted the apples picked, gave each of us a basket and left us. Stella, the girl in charge came over and introduced herself. She told us to pick what we could reach from the ground to start with and then we would work our way up.
We hadn’t worked too long when Stella called for coffee break. The others had been there since 7 am. Everyone retrieved paper bags from a pile by a tree. We sat on the ground in a cluster. We were introduced to the Granville crew. It didn’t
November 1998
SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 9
take long before we were all chatting like old friends, sharing cookies and recipes. There was teasing, joking and laughing. The coffee break had broken the ice. When we went back to picking the chatter continued, hands and tongues flying. It certainly wasn’t what one would call “work”.
We had our lunch break, then back to work. The afternoon flew by. It was time to leave, we gathered our belongings and walked down through the orchard to the hot cars. On the way home the breeze through the open windows cooled the heat of the car. Relaxed, it was then however, that we noticed the aching of our arms.
The next morning we were ready to go again.
“Are you ready for this?” asked Sheila as I got into the car.
“Why are your arms sore?” I asked.
“Sore, gee.”
“We’ll work it out picking again.”
“That’s what John said.”
A few days later after we arrived we met Mr. Jensen again “Are you ready to climb today?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” I said, “I’d love to climb.”
“Go see Stella. George will move the ladders. I don’t want the girls to do it. The ladders are too heavy.”
Off we went to find Stella. I went up the ladder with my basket. Hung it on the top rung of the ladder and started picking. It was fun leaning out as far as I dared. I felt like an aerial artist defying gravity. My basket was full. I called the carrier. While waiting for another empty basket I laid against the rungs and looked off into the distance. I could see all the way to Tekoa Mountain. What a beautiful vista. I was so entranced I forgot what I was there for, I guess.
“Hey, wake up, up there. You want your empty?”
“Yes, thank you. Gee, what a beautiful view.”
“You’re not here to look at the view.” growled George.
“No heart no soul.” I grumbled.
“Your right. Remember that George.” someone called.
“I’m here to see the job gets done.”
“Okay, George, we’re back to work.”
It was a glorious fall. The company, the fresh air, the sunshine, the exercise. Physically, we felt fit. Mentally, there had been no stress. The aroma of the apples was as delicious as the apples themselves. We even had extra money that we could put aside for Christmas spending. It had been a wonderful experience, thanks to the migrant workers that had never shown up.
PAGE 10 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
By Elethea Goodkin
At that time , the waters of the North Pond came up farther toward the house and road than they do now, she says. Direct-ly behind the house, going toward the pond, were a series of buildings including a garage and tool shed, the old ice house, a barn and cider mill, and a little boat house right near the pond.
Mary says that during the day, the water had risen in North Pond, and it was up to the barns. That night her mother, Rose Keenan, noticed a thin sheet of water from the pond hydro-planing over South Longyard Road, and the yard was getting soggy.
Her mother called the Highway Department and told them of the problem. According to the Bicentennial account, the
highway crew rushed to the North Lake dike and worked for two hours sandbagging to keep the lake from going out, but they were unable to stop it from overflowing.
Mary remembers that sandbagging was going on dur-ing that day at Middle Pond to keep it from overflowing, but no one had worried about North Pond, she says, be-cause its waters flowed south into Middle Pond (where the outlet was).
Mary said the men helped her family move all their furni-ture to the second floor of the house to save it, if the waters rose. Only the sofa, stove, and refrigerator were too heavy to move upstairs, so these were stored at a neighbor’s house up the hill toward town.
Mary remembers that the dogs seemed to sense something was wrong and would not go back into the house. She thinks it was about 2 A.M. when her father, Dan Keenan, decided to go inside the house to sleep upstairs. Her mother was very ap-prehensive about this and persuaded her husband to sleep in the cab of the truck. All their vehicles had been driven up the farm lane into the orchard on the hill above the house. Mary was already sitting in a car there, taking care of her 6-year-old brother, Joe who was sleeping in the back seat. Just as her father was walking up the hill, they all heard a crunching sound.
Mary says, “The moonlight was shining enough so I could see the house-it was a big, white house-and then I couldn’t see it. Not even realizing what had happened, I just knew that I couldn’t see it.” She says the sound came from the house crum-bling like a box of matches. It turned halfway around and was washed away; there were no boards left.
In retrospect, what they think happened, was that the wa-ters of the pond followed the path of the old canal underground and got into the artesian well in the cellar of the house, causing a whirlpool that lifted and turned the house.
A deep ravine was also being dug out by the rushing water in that same path during the night, but no one knew this was happening.
She says that Ernie Matthews and some of the highway crew were standing at the edge of the water talking at the time that her house actually washed out. When they saw the house being picked up, they all moved away from the edge, realizing that it might not be safe to be there, but nobody had any idea
Dec 1986
Part 2
SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 11
of South Longyard Road at the ravine and also of the nearly emptied North Pond after the flood.
Mary remembers her mother walking up the farm lane and through their orchards and woodlot to Chapman Street to the Ranch house on Point Grove Road to call family members and let them know everyone was alright.
She says her family spent one night at her aunt’s house in Westfield, and the next night in one of the cottages they owned at North Pond. She doesn’t remember how they got to it because the cottages were on the other side of the ravine, but she thinks some kind of a road must have been built.
After that the family moved to Westfield and lived there for ten years. Mary says that her mother and fa-ther’s positive attitude in spite of the loss of their house and all their pos-sessions, helped her and the others in the family to adapt to the situa-tion and maintain some kind of normalcy in their lives after the flood.
By Sunday, August 21, the town had begun a reconstruction program, the Bicentennial ac-count notes. Two Bailey bridges obtained from the State made it possible to open Feeding Hills Road and Loomis Street. The August, 1955 flood, however, had made its place in the history of the Town of Southwick.
how deep a ravine was being cut underneath that water.
She remembers that a little while later, there was another crunching sound made by the waters washing away the Ber-nard Drummond house, a new structure across South Long-yard Road from where her house had been. The Drummond family had also been evacuated earlier. Their house didn’t dis-integrate but just fell into the ravine. There is a picture of it, in the Bicentennial book, on its side in the ravine after the waters receded.
According to the Bicenten-nial account, when North Pond went out, it was feared that all the lakes would go. It says that shortly after midnight work began to plug the culvert between North and Middle Ponds on Point Grove Road. Many volunteers helped the Fire and Highway Departments drop planks vertically across the culvert and sand-bag it; by midmorning, the operation was completed and the danger of losing the other two ponds was over. There is a picture of the sandbagged culvert in the Bicentennial book.
Mary remembers that the next morn-ing, on Saturday, August 20, the water had gone down, and it was quite a surprise to everyone to see the 90-foot deep ravine carved out by the escaping waters of North Pond. That ravine can still be seen today by driving down South Longyard Road to the low, flat stretch a little ways past the last house on the right after Woodside Circle. Power lines are now strung along the west side of the ravine, and then cross it to the other side. The foundations of the old ice house and barn are also there on the west (town) side of the ravine.
There is a picture in the Bicentennial of the deep washout
PAGE 12 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 13
PAGE 14 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
I heard about a couple who went on vacation to the Holy Land. While they were there, the cantankerous old husband passed away. The undertaker told the wife, “You can have him shipped home for $10,000, or you can bury him here in the Holy Land for $100.”
The woman thought about it and said, “I’ll have him shipped home.”
The undertake asked, “Why would you spend $10,000 to
ship your husband home, when it would be wonderful to bury him here and you would only spend $100?”
The woman replied, “Look, long ago, a man died here in the Holy Land. He was buried here and three days later he rose from the dead. I just can’t take that chance.”
Well, it sounds like that old fellow wasn’t too good to his wife. Let me ask you a question: Are you good to people? Are you kind and considerate? Do you speak and act with good intentions?
Here’s something I want you to know: How you treat other people can have a direct impact on the degree of blessings you’re experiencing in your life. Friend, you can’t treat people poorly and expect to be blessed. You can’t be rude and inconsiderate and expect God to bless that behavior. Let me show you how you can better yourself by treating others better.
First, aim for kindness.
The Bible says, “Aim to show kindness and seek to do good to one another.” Circle two words in that sentence: aim and seek. It’s saying we’ve got to be proactive. We’ve always got to be on the lookout – on the lookout for ways to share His kindness and goodness with people. We’ve got to aim for kindness and seek to do good. On top of that, we need to be kind to people even when they don’t deserve it. We need to be courteous even when somebody is unkind to us.
• When that coworker walks by you and doesn’t give you the time of day, God expects you to go the extra mile and be friendly to her anyway.
• If you’re on the phone and somebody speaks harshly to you, it’s easy to think, I’ll just tell her off and then hang up. She doesn’t even know me. She’s never going to see me. But God expects you to be bigger and better than that.
• When that cashier at the grocery store jumps down your throat for no reason, your initial response may be to act rudely in return. That’s the easy way; anybody can do that. But God wants you to live by a higher standard. Aim for kindness.
Do you know what? Everybody’s entitled to have a bad day once in a while. We’ve got to give people room to have a bad day! After all, you don’t know what that person is going through. That person’s child may be in the hospital. Her husband may have just walked out, and she’s having the worst day of her life. Keep taking the high road and be kind and courteous. God sees what you’re doing. If you’ll keep doing the right thing, you will come out far ahead of where you would have been had
Finding Handfuls
of Blessings
SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020 PAGE 15
you fought fire with fire.
Application: Intentionally, proactively, and consistently demonstrate kindness.
Next, be on the lookout for people you can bless.
Joe was driving home one night in his beat-up, old car. He almost didn’t see the old woman, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of evening, he could see she needed help. All she had was a flat tire, but that was enough. Joe pulled over and said, “I’m here to help, ma’am. My name is Joe. I’ll fix that for you.”
She said she was from Saint Louis and just passing through. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said. Joe said it was nothing. He got to work and soon the car was as good as new. She asked, “How much do I owe you?”
But Joe … Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone. This was just his way of being a blessing to someone. He said, “Ma’am, I’ll tell you what. If you really want to pay me back, the next time you see somebody who needs help, give that person the help they need.” Joe added: “And think of me.”
The old woman thanked him and drove away. A few miles down the road, the old woman saw a little diner and decided to grab a bite to eat.
The waitress came over and the old woman noticed that she was about eight months pregnant. Though she was courteous as could be, the old woman could see the strain on her face and tiredness in her body. Then she remembered Joe.
So, when the old woman finished her meal, she decided to so something incredibly generous. She left that waitress a thousand-dollar tip and slipped out the door. When the waitress returned, there were tears in her eyes when she saw that tip. There was a note written on the napkin. It said, “Someone once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you
really want to pay me back, here’s what you do: Don’t let the chain of kindness end with you.”
Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another long day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the old woman have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she put her arms around him, gave him a soft kiss, and whispered soft and low, “Everything’s going to be alright. I love you, Joe.”
Aim for kindness … Be on the lookout for people you can bless … And I tell you this: when you’re generous with others, God will be generous with you. It is, after all, what Jesus taught us: “Give and it will be given to you; Your gift will return to you in full measure … Whatever measure you use – large or small – will be used to measure what is given back to you.” You may be like Joe. You may not have a lot of extra money. But this is a matter of attitude. A lot of people say, “God, when are you going to bless me?” But if we’d listen more carefully, maybe we’d hear God saying, “When are you going to start being a blessing?”
Application: Have an attitude that says, “How can I become a blessing to someone today?”
“Someone once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here’s what you do: Don’t let the chain of kindness end with you.”
PAGE 16 SOUTHWOODS MAGAZINE October 2020
By Carol Leonard
The cool, brisk wind rustles through the rusty colored oak leaves. Yellow and red maple leaves cascade to the ground, where bushy tailed squirrels gather acorns. Neighbors are raking “mountains” of multihued leaves (as the children jump into them). It’s autumn in New England, a kind of living postcard.
What exactly causes this colorful miracle of nature?
During the summer, leaves are busy manufacturing food. This food, sugar, starches, and proteins is distributed by chlorophyll, the green coloring matter in leaves. When the chlorophyll captures the rays of the sun, it transforms carbon dioxide in the air and water in the soil into food which is distributed to the various parts of the plant.
In the autumn, as a result of cooler weather and shorter days, the food manufacturing process is slowed down. This results in a chemical breakdown of the chlorophyll, so that the starches and other foods go into the branches, limbs and
trunks to be stored for spring use. When the green chlorophyll breaks down in the process, it becomes colorless, permitting the colors already present in the leaves to reveal themselves.
Two general classes of chemicals bring about the coloring of the leaves. One of these, carotenoids, is responsible for the yellows. Though present in all leaves, they only show up when the chlorophyll breaks down in the fall. When carotenoids are present without any other pigments, they cause foliage to turn yellow or orange, like birch or sassafras. A second class of chemical compounds, anthocyanins, is responsible for the reds and purples.
Though starches and other foods are stored in limbs and trunks during the winter, some remain
