MAPLE STREET MEMORIES

MAPLE STREET MEMORIES

By Dick Alley

The year was 1946. Our sixth grade class at Maple Street School, lined up for the annual class photo with our teacher Miss Katherine Grady.  World War II had ended, baseball season was about to begin and the world was full of hope and promise for our futures.

CLASS OF 46

SIXTH GRADE – MAPLE STREET SCHOOL

TOP ROW – L-R: Fremont Wilson, Dick Alley, Carl ?, Johnny Erismann, Ronald M., George S., Ray Zira, Stanley Pliska, Ronald Wendus, Wesley Lanz, Walter Darcey.

MIDDLE ROW L-R: Johnny Marszalek, Cary Cook, Nancy ?, Beverly Jacobs, Kathryn Grady, Marie Schneider, Roxy Markham, George Apel, Dwight Lyman.

FRONT ROW L-R: Lorraine Leutjen, Carole Weber, Diane Dubek, Carol Abrahamson, Shirley Hemman, Myrtle Maynard, Helen Seiber, Shirley W., Joan Taft, Dotty Chapman, Bertha Farr.

When my bride found this photo in a box in the basement. It had been there since we moved to Manchester in 2000. I recognized most of the faces at first glance even after 65 years. The memories that accompanied the photo were even more remarkable, considering that those classmates still with us are now in their mid-70’s.

                My   memories of Maple Street School go back to first grade where this class started in 1941. Miss Hendricks was our teacher . We learned how to read, about colors primary and secondary. We read basic words and suddenly a year had passed and we were ready for Miss Flynn and second grade. That’s when I discovered that I liked to read. I wasn’t alone. One day, Miss Flynn escorted Carole Weber and me  down the hall to Miss Hattie R. M. Burr’s,  fourth grade class where we were asked to read some pages from a fourth grade  book. After that, reading and spelling became my favorite subjects.

In third grade, the war was brought home when Adeline Leocher,  our teacher failed to report for class one day. Our principal. Raymond Ramsdell, filled in, explaining that Miss Leocher’s fiancee was missing in action when his plane was shot down---and she wouldn’t be in for a few days. I remember learning to knit scarves and mittens for the soldiers. Every spring during the war years, we brought home boxes of seeds and planted our Victory gardens. During the war years everything was rationed, so treats like butter, sugar and coffee were a rarity. Gas was rationed too. My Dad didn’t get his first car until 1950. Everybody helped the war effort. We had books of stamps that when filled would convert to a war bond. Total cost was $18.75 and when the bonds matured they were worth $25.00.

                Mr. Ramsdell was old school. He believed in corporal punishment in those days and flagrant acts of misbehavior would mean a trip to his office.  Minor offenses were handled by individual teachers. Miss Hattie R.M. Burr, our fourth grade teacher  rarely administered a spanking or two, but most of the teachers  passed along disciplinary problems to Mr. Ramsdell. I only made the trip to his office a time or two and most of the kids never experienced a couple of whacks on the backside with a yardstick for minor offenses, or more painful slaps on the hand with a ruler for worse offenses. That said, Mr Ramsdell was much gentler than our own parents when they found out we had been in trouble. As for Mr. Ramsdell, he went on to become Superintendent of Schools and enjoyed an excellent career in education.  Everybody liked Mr. Ramsdell. Those of us who were disciplined derserved it. Besides being principal, He also coached our basketball and baseball teams for our cross-town rivalries with the kids at East School. His son Gary was  a friend.  Discipline was simply a way of life at the time, something that today’s society might not understand let alone accept.

                Moving up to fourth grade was a real adventure. Hattie R.M. Burr was a legend. She had also taught my Dad and often reminded me of that fact when my attention wavered. I remember that she would not allow left-handed students in her class. If you wrote with your left hand at the beginning of the school year, you learned to do it with your right hand by year’s end. The only thing that saved me was my spelling and reading abilities. Miss Burr always appeared stern and unsmiling until the following summer when a couple of friends and I took a bike ride to Ellington. Miss Burr and her sister owned a big old house there and when we rode by, they were sitting on the porch. We waved and  she beckoned us to come sit a while. My friends and I were treated to cookies and lemonade and a nice visit with this kindly old lady who we had previously only known as a teacher who ruled us with an iron hand.

                In fifth grade, Caroline Foster was our teacher.  She ran the school play and was an outstanding artist. The highlight for every one of her classes at Christmas time was a colored chalk sketch of Santa Claus that she drew on the blackboard in her room every Christmas season.

                Kathryn Grady taught sixth grade through part of the year, but she must have left, because that was the year Arthur Mattson arrived and took over sixth grade. He went on to take over as principal when Mr. Ramsdell was promoted. He was the first male teacher I ever had. He also pitched in with the coaching chores making him really popular among the boys.

                Our seventh grade tacher was Mrs. McQuone and I best remember her always being happy and smiling. She even disciplined us with a smile. One day she caught me chewing gum and made me wear it on the end of my nose for a while. It worked. I never chewed gum in class again.

In eighth grade, Mrs. Foster was either promoted or punished but she was once again our teacher. I don’t remember anyone complaining. One of the highlights of that class was Gilbert & Sullivan’s “The Mikado”. Lots of the kids were involved. I earned the part of  Pooh-Bah – Lord High Everything Else. It was a fun time. Miss Lewis was the music teacher and the play was staged at Rockville High School.

                   Maple Street School recess meant  a wide range of playground games in the  second grade when we sang songs and played London Bridges. Wesley Lanz, Stanley Pliska and  I all made the basketball team in fifth grade. Mr. Ramsdell was the coach. Sports were big. Mr. Mattson helped coach baseball.  During recess, we had occasional fist fights, told jokes, played mumbledy-peg with our jack-knives and had snowball fights in the winter.  Teachers always had playground duty, breaking up arguments and skirmishes, referreeing games and teaching us social responsibilities along with what we learned in the classroom.

                Things were much different then. I remember when my Uncle Jake returned from the war in the Pacific with a souvenier Japanese rifle.  I proudly took it to school one day to show the class and tell the story behind it. Imagine bringing a gun to school today.

                School was a great place, in class and on the playground.  One of my best friends was Fremont   Wilson. He’s standing next to me in the class photo. Fremont joined us in fifth or sixth grade. He was a little guy, pale with deep circles under his eyes. One arm was partially handicapped. He was also very smart, shy and friendly.  He and I hit it off right away.  Some kids were mean in those days  and I did jump in a couple of times when kids tried to pick on him. I never thought much about it until my Mom came home from Parents night and told me how he had made a little speech and thanked me in front of all the parents for being his friend. 

                Wesley Lanz was my friend for  as long as I can remember.  We played games after school, exploring the woods  between Talcott Avenue where I lived and Davis Avenue where he lived. His Dad worked for the railroad. I remember that his birthday was always close to Memorial day and his party would usually be held at Crystal lake where we would get in the first swim of the year. I moved from Rockville in 1952 and was shocked a few years later when I learned that Wes had been killed in a crash while piloting his fighter plane for the National Guard. I wrote to his family at the time, recalling the hours we spent as kids talking about flying, counting squadrons of fighter planes flying overhead and talking about the war.

                Walter Dorcey was another good friend. He lived at the corner of Union and Orchard Streets. I remember my Dad telling me that Walt’s father Tom Dorcey was a really good boxer when he was young. Walter had a brother who was a State Trooper. 

Raymond Zira and Stanley Pliska were the best athletes of their time at Maple Street School. Ray played baseball for the MSS team and was the best  home run hitter I can remember. He put the ball over the fence at the old Rec Field in the center of town on several occasions . Stanley was a basketball player. He was good at MSS but really took off at Rockville High School. I recall him scoring 31 points one night. Ray, Stan and I also shared a love for fishing.  They gave me my first fly-tying lesson in seventh grade

Ronnie Wendus loved baseball too. I remember one year when his Dad took him to the World Series. Johnny Marszalek was also a friend, even though he dinged me with a rock on the school grounds one day after school was over. He was the first kid in class to have a ball-point pen and I recall that the teacher wouldn’t let him use it to write his papers. He was all upset because he could write much faster with the ball point than a fountain pen. Problem was, nobody could read his writing. Johnny lived on Union Street only a few doors from the school.

George Apel lived near me at the corner of Woodland and Prospect Streets. I remember that his grandfather was a fisherman and one day he called me down to the house where his Grandpa had a tub full of flatfish. They must have been fluke because they were really big. Dwight Lyman was a farmer and loved farming. He was also a really nice kid. I can’t forget Cary Cook. Cary’s parents were carnival folks, so he spent much of every winter in Florida and came north in the spring.

All of the girls in the class were pretty. I was just beginning to notice that fact  in the sixth grade. My first crush was Lorraine Leutjen. I don’t remember what grade it was, but we met at the Princess Theater for the Saturday matinee. I sat down next to her. The lights dimmed. I held her hand and felt a tap on my shoulder. Her father was sitting behind us. 

Roxanna Markham lived a couple of blocks from the school. She had a pet racoon. She and Beverly Jacobs were tall, but Marie Schneider was taller. Marie was the tallest girl in class and excelled in sports. Marie’s father owned a dairy farm on Ellington Avenue. The Hockanum River flowed through his property and he would let the kids go through the property on hot summer days to a spot in the fields where the river widened and the water deepened and a section of the bank was perfect so we could run and dive. The deal was that we wouldn’t disturb the cows and we never did.

Carole Weber and Carol Abrahamson were very popular. Diane Dubek and I both moved to the other end of town in eighth grade and so rode the bus lines to and from school every day.  Our parents persuaded the authorities to let us finish elementary school at Maple Street. Shirley Hemmann and I were second or third cousins. She lived on Woodland Street and I seem to remember that she narrowly escaped either the Hartford Circus fire or the time that an air-liner crashed the Empire State Building in thick fog. Joan Taft, Dorothy Chapman and Bertha Farr were also friends.

In 1949 we moved to the east end of Town. Then in 1952, my Dad changed jobs and we moved to Westport, CT.  Though we made many family visits to Rockville and Manchester over the ensuing years,  my adult life until retirement was spent in Westport.

I still have good memories of the high school years both at Rockville High and at Staples High School in Westport, but  Maple Street memories top the list.

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