THE GREAT HURRICANE OF 1938 

I was only three, but I still remember stories from my Mom & Dad about the 1938 hurricane. I also recently found some old photographs in a family scrapbook. With Hurricane Dorian about to hit the southern US, it seemed like a good time to share them.

                 The photo above was taken after the storm on Talcott Avenue. The big house with the porch columns was where we lived. To the right lived Mamie Sheets. The trees tore up sidewalks and 

everything else in sight. This wasn't some coastal storm that raised hell near the water and then dumped mostly rain on inland communities. The winds blew long and hard, devastating the immediate coast, while recording unbelievable damage to cities and towns well inland.

This is the old schoolhouse opposite St. Bernard.s convent on School Street.

The old Mill below the Snipsic Lake Dam is now an apartment complex. This is how it looked in the aftermath of the hurricane.

 The Hockanum River finally went back to normal levels but washed away much of what was in its path during the process.

What was left of Sandy Beach at Crystal Lake after the storm.

Another photo from Talcott Avenue.

My Dad's favorite storm story was about an argument he was having with Gramps . The wind was blowing hard and the garage door behind the house was swinging back and forth. Gramps wanted Dad  to go out and close the garage door. Dad preferred life over death and was refusing to go out. The argument was settled when another wind gust ripped the door off it's hinges sending it sailing down the street through back yards. They found it the next day in Percy Bakers back yard, four houses and a hundred yards away.

These photo's should serve as a reminder  that extra caution is always necessary when the weather misbehaves.

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ME AND MY CARS

ME & MY CARS

            Eighty years adds up to a lot of automobiles. The other night, I was trying to remember the various makes and models of all the cars I have owned. 

            I remember my first car. It was a 1934 Dodge, given to me by my former baby-sitter and downstairs neighbors, Louise and Ned Stevens. I never did get to drive it, but don't recall whether my Dad had it hauled away to the junk yard because of the way it didn't run, or as a disciplinary action for something I did or did not do. At any rate, I was only 15 at the time and don't remember being that sad over losing it.

            That was the same year my Dad brought our first family car. It was a 1947 Plymouth sedan, purchased from Spartico "Spot" Neri at his garage on East Main Street. A few months later, I turned 16 and Dad taught me to drive. Subsequently, another few months passed before I was driving down Route 30 in Vernon one late night and ran off the road, managing to stop before striking a very large tree, but buckling the undercarriage in the process. It was several months more before I was again allowed to drive that car.

Our 47 Plymouth

             The next family car was a newer Plymouth and then a nice DeSoto and we had moved to Westport by then. I started dating my bride of many years and her cousin had this cool 1937 Ford, 2 door sedan. Tim and Joy sold me the car for $150. It sported Cadillac fender skirts, had a 65 hp engine and mechanical brakes, perfect for a high school kid. The brakes had to be adjusted every few days and I was able to rig it with a loud muffler, a suicide knob and chopped off the gearshift which was on the floor so I could shift faster. I kept that car all through high school but unfortunately don't recall taking any photos.

My 48 Chevy- Vacum shift 3 speed on steering wheel

          I always worked part time and after graduating from Staples High School, entered the working world full time. It was time for another car and cousin-to-be, Tim who was a mechanic at Blue Ribbon Motors, quickly found me another gem.

         My 1948 Chevy was spotless, had low mileage, a vacum shift on the steering wheel and was fun to drive. It was also a sedan, but more of an adult car.

         By this time, I had quit my job at the grocery store in hopes of learning a trade and Frank Decker got me a job as an apprentice carpenter, working for Zarelli Brothers Construction. At the time, development in Westport was at full charge, and houses were going up everywhere. Louis and Tony Zarelli were leading the way with developments in several sections of town.

         Carpentry work was great fun and paid pretty well, but it didn't take me long to realize that I didn't want to make it a career. Once again, fate intervened. I received my official draft notice from the government and was told to report for a physical. In the process, I talked with a recruiter and found out that if I enlisted, I could have my choice of Army schools. It would only cost me an extra year, and at age 18, a year didn't seem like any time at all. I reported to New Haven on the 27th of Decmber, was sworn in and joined a bunch of other draftee's and enlisted men, heading for Ford Dix, NJ. I turned the Chevy over to the love of my life to use while I was gone. At the completion of basic training at Fort Dix, I was transferred to Fort Monmouth, NJ and was able to bring my car onto the base. 

        It turned out that my school choice was a good one for my immediate future, as the school lasted 33 weeks. I was able to get weekend passes and commute between Monmouth and home for almost my first full year in the Army. The Chevy served me well. I had to replace the generator brushes a couple of times and did one valve job, but in those days, all of us did most of our own repairs and I was able to give the car back to Mary  Anne when I was transferred across Country to New Mexico where I spent the remainder of my enlistment time. I also gave my best girl a ring and we were officially engaged.

WE honeymooned in Cape Cod in our classy little 53 Studebaker

         Over the next 2 years, most of my driving was of jeeps, pickups, 3/4 ton vehicles all painted olive drab.. Mary Anne took good care of the Chevy. I received my honorable discharge on December 13, 1957 along with Bill Dowler and a couple of others from back east and we drove cross-country, stopping only for food and gas.
          I took a job in a factory, tired of that, tried direct sales, then back to clerking in a grocery store before a high school friend, Officer George Call, pulled me over one night and suggested I take the test to become a cop. I bought a 1953 Studebaker. Loved the lines but it ran like a---Studebaker.
         Once I decided on a career in law enforcement, there were lots of cars. I recall a 63 Chevy, a 55 Chevy, an Audi, an Opel station wagon,  another Opel sedan. a fun little Volkswagen Karman Ghia,  a couple of Volkswagen Beetles, a Ford sedan, another Ford sedan, three different motorcycles, a Mazda pickup, a Nissan pickup, An International pickup, a Ford station wagon, a 96 Olds Ciera which Mary Anne still drives and my current car, a 2013 Mazda 6. Almost forgot my 65 Plymouth which preceded both Opels. Every car had a story.
         My son Todd wrecked the Opel Station Wagon. The Opel sedan was demolished while parked next to the house when adolescent 5 year-old Billy Mills released the brake on Daddy's Garbage truck. The 65 Plymouth blew the transmission while exiting I-95 to pick up the new Opel station wagon. One of the Ford's. I purchased in Florida after my Dad died. I rented a trailer, bought the car loaded all my parents possessions in the trailer and headed for CT. Someplace in Va. I blew a radiator hose. That fixed, I made it to D.C. where I blew a head gasket. I limped to a small town garage in Maryland, left it there for repairs and rented a car for the rest of the drive home. A week later, I returned, picked up the car with a new set of heads and drove it for another year or so before I sold it.
           I bought my first motorcycle, a tiny little 50cc bike for fun, soon upgraded to a 125 cc dirt bike. A car made a left turn in front of me and I ended up with a busted leg,. Once cured, I bought a 500 cc Honda and rode that one until I needed my first computer and sold it to buy the machine. Bikes are great fun, dangerous but worth the risk.
         The Audi was  one of the nicest cars I owned and my bride's favorite. Only problem was having to hire a mechanic to ride along on the hood to make all the repairs.My 55 Chevy that I bought from George Call for $150. bucks burned oil almost faster than gas, but never failed to start and was my second car for many months. My Karman Ghia, I bought from Bill Stefan and it was almost as much fun to drive as my motorcycles.
          Cars offer freedom. I can go anywhere and any time I'm unhappy or frustrated, there's nothing like a nice ride to sort things out.

                                                                      endit
       

WILD TROUT ALL YEAR LONG

WILD TROUT ALL YEAR LONG


By Dick Alley



                 As a youngster, I was introduced to trout fishing at Walker's Reservoir in Rockville. The surrounding property was owned by the Belding family. It was posted and the grounds and waters were patrolled by a caretaker. My buddies and I wouldn't dare go fishing in the stream running out of the "Rez".

              Many years passed before I found out about the Wild Trout Management Area in this same stream that was formerly forbidden. Today it reigns as one of the best "wild trout" fisheries  in the State.

A trio of the "wild ones" tagged and returned to the WTMA

  Recently, I was invited along on a DEEP survey of the Belding Wild Trout Management Area, located in Vernon, CT. I was happily surprised to learn it was only about 5 miles from my home in Manchester. I was even happier when I learned it was a fishing spot that was forbidden territory when I was a kid.
       Having grown up in the area, I always remembered the Belding property as a stream running through a stretch of woods below Walker’s Reservoir in Rockville. It feeds the Tankerhoosen River in Vernon. Walker’s was the place Grandpa took me on my first fishing adventure for sunnies and the spot where I caught my first trout only a couple of years later. I enjoyed many days in the 1940's and 50's, riding my bike to Walker’s, a telescopic rod and a can of worms balanced precariously on the handlebars.

They are as frisky as they are pretty

       As kids, we were absolutely convinced that sneaking onto the Belding property could result in certain death. We knew it to be patrolled by guys with guns and had little doubt we would be executed on the spot for fishing there. Besides, fishing at the “RES” (Walker’s) was good enough. Why take the chance.
      At that age, I didn’t know there was a difference between wild and hatchery-raised trout. All were beautiful fish that fought really hard and tasted great. While we weren’t really poor, Mom always welcomed free fish dinners.
      It rang a bell when the Belding property was listed as a TMA by the state, but I didn’t really make the connection with my youthful adventures until I visited the spot.. It was the first designated Wild Trout Management Area in the state.
      My reintroduction to the Belding property more than a half-century later was revealing and exciting. I accompanied a crew of DEEP biologists, led by Bill Hyatt and Neil Hagstrom, to the TMA. It is located on open land off Bolton Rd. in Vernon. There is roadside parking on Bread & Milk Rd. next to a cornfield, but the stream is most easily accessible by walking to Bolton Rd. and down through the open field opposite Bamforth Rd. A stone bridge marks the spot where the stream flows beneath Bolton Rd. Upstream of Bolton Road, a short hike through a cathedral of towering pines leads to a small pond, which feeds this brook full of wild trout.
      My first thought on viewing the pond on a windless day was that catching fish didn’t matter. The sheer beauty of the spot makes every moment there, a time to be treasured.
   

These little guys  can grow to lengths of 10 to 12-inches

  The stream itself is small, probably too small to fish comfortably with an 8 or 9-foot rod. It is more ideally suited to a four or five-foot, ultra-light spinning stick or a tiny 5 or 6 foot flea rod. It is maybe 10 feet across at its widest spot, and the water is waist deep in the largest pools.
      Neither would any of the trout caught here be big enough to decorate an office or playroom wall. The stream is first of all catch-and-release fishing only. The biggest trout may measure 10 or 11 inches, and there will be far more 5 to 8-inch specimens, but they will be among the prettiest trout you will catch in a lifetime.
      They are wild trout, native to the stream and they spawn and continue their particular strain from one year to the next. Yes, an occasional stocked fish does show up in the annual survey (this year, there were two out of more than 400 fish counted). They probably make their way downstream from Walker’s Reservoir in a spring flood, but they are easily distinguishable from the wild fish. The colors on a wild trout are brilliant.
         Bill Hyatt is excited about wild trout in Connecticut. He revealed that there are many streams in the state like Belding that hold wild trout. In some there are only brookies, while others contain brooks and browns. In fact proposals have already been written to establish some of these areas as wild trout management areas in the near future.
        The DEEP survey team was comprised of 6 biologists or people training to be biologists. Neil Hagstrom leads the way, wearing a backpack machine that delivers enough electricity to a pair of probes, to temporarily stun the fish so they can be gathered, measured, counted and returned to the water with no visible harm. Two additional crew members work in concert with Neil, netting the fish and placing them in buckets. They are followed by another pair of crew members who measure the fish, record the condition, species and size and then return them to the stream.
       The fish are hardy, so much so that we were even able to pose some for photos before returning them to the water no worse the wear. The data recorded by the team is then compared with previous surveys to determine just how well the fish and the habitat are doing.

Another pretty specimen - Lots of fun on ultra-kight
either spinning or fly

      Spin-fishermen and fly-fishermen alike can enjoy this spot. Fishing is restricted to single-hook lures or flies. No bait fishing allowed! The daily creel limit is zero, meaning that fish must be immediately returned to the water without avoidable injury.
      Early settlers in Connecticut enjoyed good trout fishing in most rivers and streams before the industrial revolution. There were no hatcheries and every trout was a wild trout. Stocking operations have enhanced trout fishing for the many more anglers who fish today, but it’s nice to know that we can step back in history and experience the same fishing today that was available then. Belding is the place to be.


30

THE FISH-LINE FACTORY

THE FISH LINE FACTORY

At least that's what we called it when w were kids. It's located on Mountain Street and back in the 1940's, our cub scout troop enjoyed an exciting tour of the Horton Mfg. Co., in this building where fishing line was the main product.

           It was well before the days of monofilament line and consisted of braided nylon line used mainly on bait casting reels. That day was especially exciting because at the end of the tour, each of us was rewarded with a spool of fishing line.

           The building is still in use today, no longer makes fishing line but it's nice to know it survived when the much larger textile mills all became history.

PEDDLING PAPERS

PEDDLING PAPERS

               Most of us probably had a paper route growing up. It was like a rite of passage and for many of us the first job we ever had. I guess my first route came around the age of 12 or 13. The paper was the Rockville Leader and the offices were in the area where Ladd & Hall Furniture is located today. I don't remember the route or how much money was involved, but I had to collect the money from my customers every week, then go to the office and pay for my papers. I always seemed to come up short as some people weren't home or avoided paying for weeks on end. I think my profits tallied a buck or two a week, but it taught me the basics of keeping records.

                I don't recall the reason, but I switched from the Leader to the Journal and finally upped my game to the Hartford Courant. There were two Hartford papers at the time, the Courant, which came out in the morning and the Hartford Times in the afternoon.

                 I was living on East Main Street then and had a pretty big route. Close to 70 customers on weekdays and more than 80 on Sundays. Those Sunday papers weighed a ton.

                 My route started at my house at 117 E. Main and continued on both sides of the street up to Snipsic Street where I had a bunch more customers all the way up to the Fisk house. My favorite customer EVER, who lived on Snipsic Street was Mrs. Draper. She lived about halfway up the street and  always greeted me with a smile and sometimes a cup of hot chocolate on cold winter mornings. I started my route every morning at 5:00 a.m. and was supposed to be finished before 7:00 a.m.. 

                 When Snipsic Street was finished it was back down and to the left up past the Minterburn Mill (currently the Loft apartments) and on up Tolland Avenue. I had most of the houses on Tolland Avenue all the way out to the cutoff Road by the Gravel Bank. My furthest customer was a small gas station, milk, bread and candy store that was also always open in the very early morning and a place to warm the toes. I would say my goodbyes there and walk down to the florist shop at the corner of Kingsbury Ave. and then more deliveries ending at the IAFC Club to finish the route. The nice people at the Florist always left the office door open for me to warm up.

                    My Dad didn't own his first car yet, so the route was my responsibility. No matter how cold, hot or wet and windy the weather, I had the route to do. There were no sick days. I think I made maybe $10 - $12. a week. The one Christmas I had it, I got almost $40.00 in tips and thought I was rich.

                    All of my customers but one, were very nice to me. Mr. Maher expected his paper every day by 6:00 a.m. and sometimes I couldn't make the deadline. He let me know he was angry and when I continued to be late, he wrote a complaint letter to the Courant. Francis Pitkat was my manager and almost fired me but gave me another chance. I ended up changing my route to make sure Mr. Maher had his paper on time. The following spring, I turned 14 and was able to get my working papers for the Tobacco farms.

                  In the meantime, I guess I learned some responsibility in dealing with people and in handling money. I was able to buy a second hand bike from George Seifert for $15.00 and also purchased a nice wagon for hauling those heavy Sunday editions.
                   Weather was my biggest worry. My coldest day, it was 28 below zero on the thermometer outside the Florist shop door. I recall being so happy to find the door open and warm up inside. One night while making my collections a cold front arrived in the middle of a heavy rainstorm and everything turned to ice. I fell four times by the time I finished the route and I was an agile 13-year-old.
                   Over the next couple of years, I worked summers in the tobacco fields and then in Ed Dymond's grocery store on School Street before we moved out of town. Those paper routes gave me spending money for soda, candy and the pinball machine at Cheap John's, so the working world was pretty good after all.

                                                

                  

ROCKVILLE HIGH SPORTS - EARLY 50'S

RHS SPORTS-EARLY 50'S

           I wasn't much of an athlete, but was determined to play football. Upon his entry at Rockville High, coach Ted Ventura had re-introduced football. When I reported for try-outs at the American Legion Field in August of 1950, I was apprehensive but enthusiastic. Eventually, I made the J-V team, joining a great bunch of guys, eager to play. Names I remember include; Bob Hirth, Mickey Ruggles, Rudy Hany, Joe and Andy Curtis, Bob Brennan, Bob Orlowski, Frank Badsteubner, Ronnie Badsteubner, Franny LaForge, Hank McDermott, Bob Gorski, Bob Pagani and Johnny Olender.

           Once school started, it was practice every day. Our practice field was the Rec field in the center of Town. We would suit up in the locker room and exit the school at a run as soon as classes ended for the day. Then it was practice until the dinner hour. We played our games at Henry Park. I don't remember winning many games, but there were some memorable moments.

            At one game (I think against Canton) Bobby Orlowski took the ball for an end-to-end touchdown, running 110 yards. Mickey Ruggles was one of the smallest guys on the team but a real scrapper. In one game, he charged through an opposing lineman, leaving him almost unconscious on the ground. Franny LaForge was the biggest guy on the team. I remember Coach Ventura transferring him off the line into the fullback position as he could bull his way for the extra yards, dragging opposing linemen along with him. Joe and Andy Curtis were brothers and both fine athletes. Joe was probably a bit faster than Andy.  Even better than Joe's athletic abilities was his wonderful singing voice. Hank McDermott was a skinny guy and could run like the wind. Coach was always worried he would get hurt in practice and would yell at the rest of us when we made a hard tackle on Hank. Give him the ball in an open field and he was gone. Hank also played a mean piano, specializing in boogie-woogie.

            My own fleeting moment came when we were playing a J-V game at Mansfield. I played right guard and on the bus on the way over, asked the coach what to do if there was a bad kick-off and the ball came my way. He laughed saying, "Pick it up and run like hell." About halfway through the second quarter, the Mansfield guys kicked off and guess what. It was a bad kick, careened along the ground and bounced into my hands. I grabbed the ball, took a couple of steps and was buried under the entire opposing line. So much for running like hell - but it was good for a laugh on the bus ride home.

            Winter passed, then spring and summer vacation. It was back to the tobacco fields for me and Bob Hanson and Press Strait. We started working peace work that year and made a little more money, but their was something extra. Teachers didn't make much money in those days so when we showed up at the tobacco fields, we learned that our straw boss for the summer was our football coach-Ted Ventura.

           Bob, Press and I worked as a team alternating with two guys picking and one dragging the baskets of leaves. We were pretty fast, made maybe a little bit faster with the "urging" of Coach Ted. He was merciless in trying to get me in shape for fall football. Unfortunately about the second week of practice when school started, I  blew out my left knee (replaced some 60-plus years later) and my football career was over at Rockville High.  It was also my introduction into the grocery business. I went to work for Ed Dymond in his grocery store on School Street. Coach Ventura was a nice man, both on and off the field. He also taught a couple of subjects and coached basketball during that season.

          A couple of other noteworthy memories regarding RHS. My Dad, Luke Alley was a graduate of RHS and star basketball player and President of his senior class.

           Basketball was always the most popular sport at Rockville High. I doubt I ever missed a game. My cousin Bob McCarthy also played for Rockville, well enough to play on into college at Hillyer. A couple of his team-mates I remember were the Brennan brothers and Francis Pritchard. Stu Beal was a trumpet player and every score at every game, Stu would ramble off a triumphant tune on his trumpet. One of the biggest fans for sure. Another big fan was Mrs. Harlow, who taught biology during the daytime hours. Nobody cheered longer or louder at every game. Basketball games on Friday nights usually preceded a school sock hop and all the kids would dance away the night, either in sorrow or celebration.

           Halfway through my sophomore year, my Dad took a job in Westport, CT and I moved to that town where I lived most of my adult life, raising my family and pursuing a career in law enforcement. Following my retirement, my bride and I moved north again and now reside in Manchester, CT.

CRYSTAL LAKE-VACATION PARADISE

CRYSTAL LAKE - VACATION PARADISE

              Dad worked at the United States Envelope Co. in Rockville for many years. As a seasoned employee in the office, he received two weeks a year vacation and from the earliest I remember, those two-week vacations were spent at Crystal Lake.

             Those early vacations weren't easy. We  didn't own a car, so early every year, Dad would reserve two weeks at one of the cottages for rent around the lake. I remember one just a stone's throw from Sandy beach that wasn't on the water and then later a cottage along the north shore with a private dock. My Aunt Mabel had a car, so on the first day, we would pile groceries, clothes and all the goodies in her Chevy (she always owned a Chevy), and she would drop us at the cottage for a two-week stay.

            Crystal lake was a busy place in those days. Sandy Beach was owned and operated by the George Bokis family. It consisted of a beachfront, picnic tables, boat rentals, bath houses for changing, a game room, a food concession with great hot dogs, burgers and grinders, and a roller-skating rink. An additional building at the opposite end housed Red's Tavern, a very popular spot for adults with a good restaurant menu. The parking lot was tarred and on sunny days, a tough place to walk bare-footed. On most good-weather days it was full and on weekends, the lot, Sandy beach road and adjoining roads were packed bumper-to-bumper with cars of beach-goers.

            Admission for swimmers was a dime. Mildred Bokis would then staple a colored ribbon to your bathing suit and you would be good for the day. Ribbon colors changed daily so there was no cheating. I think rental rowboats cost $2.00 a day. Hot dogs were a dime and burgers 15 cents. I don't remember how much skating was, but for a small fee, you could rent a pair of roller skates and circle the rink for hours. The Bokis family were great people and knew all of us kids by name. If you forgot your dime or dropped it, they would staple the ribbon and let you pay the next time you came swimming.

           In addition to the Sandy Beach and crystal clear water, the swimming area had a couple of floats and a "wheel"as added attractions.

My daughter Lori on the Wheel about 40 years back. 

       

 I think we usually rented a cottage from the Johnson family. In addition to owning some cottages, they ran a small food concession just down the road and across the street from Sandy Beach and Mrs. Johnson made the greatest fried dough with tomato sauce.

            Another very popular food concession stand was Jimmy's, a couple of blocks up the road and across the street from Sandy Beach. They made the greatest grinders to be found anywhere in the area. The little stand is still there but abandoned.
           

Jimmys Hot Dog Stand is still standing.

 At the far end of the lake, there was another large beach concession, I first knew as Rau's. The building is still there. It's been renovated a couple of times and changed names more than once, but it was the spot where my Mom and Dad used to go on dates before they married. Uncle Jake was dating Aunt Isabel Bjorkman and Dad was dating her sister Viola Bjorkman. Dad and Jake were good buddies and Mom and Isabel would take a bus or trolley out to Rau's on weekends for dancing dates.- As I was growing up, the place became Jack's. It had a great diving float with an elevated diving board and after the war a big surplus rubber raft where we played "King of the Mountain", tossing each other into the water.
           My favorite activity on the Lake was fishing. It was always a good trout lake, but also supplied us with plenty of yellow perch, pickerel and bass. The Cove to the right of Sandy Beach was the spot to fish for these species. The hot spot for bullheads was a deep hole about 100 yards off the Brigham cottage. One summer I found a smelt spot and loaded up on delicious fresh water smelt for dinner.
            Over the years, Crystal Lake has continued to be a favorite go-to spot, but in those early days it was indeed a vacation paradise.