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Fulton, Ill. (Illinois, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
Old Salem street. by Helen Tilden Wild. [Read before the Medford Historical Society, January 20, 1913.] I was born on Salem street, under the shadow of the Fountain House elm. Although other parts of the town were partially or altogether unknown to my childhood, from the square to Malden line was familiar country, and my special stamping ground was bounded by the Everett School and Fulton street. There will be no dates to remember in my narrative, for at the period I shall talk about (between war time and the Centennial year) the dates which interested me most were for sale at the grocers'. I may jump from the ‘60s to ‘70s with no apparent reason, and I may speak of things which happened before I was born. What better place to begin our tour than the town pump at the junction of Salem and Ship streets? Of course, it has always been there (Mr. Wait has told us so), but the first time I remember it distinctly was the summer that the High School house (now the Centre School) wa
Braintree (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
of the boys and girls. Then on the north side were the Parker and Tothill houses. The latter had a pretty cascade some hundred feet in height in the side yard. We made up for time gained by running 'round the bend by loitering to watch the water-fall. Next was the priest's house; we were a little in awe of it because of the high board fence. The building is now the home of the Sisters. The next house we always called the old place, for in 1832 my grandfather came to Medford from Braintree to live in half of this house, his sister, Mrs. Jonathan Sawyer, being the owner and occupying the other half. She also owned the farm which lay on both sides of the street. My aunt, Mrs. Alfred Odiorne, and family lived in the west half of the house until 1867, and Mr. Francis H. Tay owned and occupied the east half. Mr. Tay's part was removed when the parkway was built. The hill which rose immediately behind the house offered all sorts of pleasures to adventurous young folks. No nee
Brighton, Mass. (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
t beyond the old place, a pretty dwelling owned by W. O. Fiske. The two houses just west of the car barns were occupied about 1860 by my uncles, George W. and Henry M. Wild, who operated the slaughter house which stood at the end of a lane which ran between them. Before my remembrance Mr. George Wild removed to Danvers, but Mr. Henry Wild lived in the house afterward owned by Mr. Hill for some years. The Plummer brothers succeeded to the business, and later Mr. John White removed from Brighton to the house nearest the car barns and was in the slaughtering business for many years. Between Mr. White's house and the church was the hotel or road house, which was built after 1855, as it is not shown on the town map of that date. Known under several names, it had a checkered career as regards respectability. The Roman Catholic Church, not as large as now, was known as St. Mary's. Below the church I remember only two dwellings. That of Mr. O. M. Gale, which, with its farm build
Fords Hill (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
e houses had been built. On the corner of Oakland street was the Methodist Church, standing much below the present grade of the street, in constant danger of a drenching when Gravelly Creek became unruly. The creek was always an unknown quantity and therefore interesting. It might be a little stream just big enough to get wet in, or it might be wide and deep, overflowing its banks and flooding the roadway. In winter it was great fun to run tittlies on it, and a coast from the top of Ford's Hill down the steep incline across the creek (if you were lucky, and into it if you were not) had all the elements of adventurous sport. At the top of the hill was the schoolhouse (so entirely changed that it seems another building), where Edward Everett's picture occupied the place of honor in the big room. The primary room was on the west side, the intermediate on the east, each with a separate entrance. When I arrived there, at the mature age of five years, three months, Miss Emma S. Cro
Danvers (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
urous young folks. No need of gymnasiums or hiking excursions for these young folks who had a forest at the back door. I remember only one house on the north side of Salem street beyond the old place, a pretty dwelling owned by W. O. Fiske. The two houses just west of the car barns were occupied about 1860 by my uncles, George W. and Henry M. Wild, who operated the slaughter house which stood at the end of a lane which ran between them. Before my remembrance Mr. George Wild removed to Danvers, but Mr. Henry Wild lived in the house afterward owned by Mr. Hill for some years. The Plummer brothers succeeded to the business, and later Mr. John White removed from Brighton to the house nearest the car barns and was in the slaughtering business for many years. Between Mr. White's house and the church was the hotel or road house, which was built after 1855, as it is not shown on the town map of that date. Known under several names, it had a checkered career as regards respectabili
Little Gravel Creek (Alabama, United States) (search for this): chapter 18
great garden, which had been cut up into house lots and where some houses had been built. On the corner of Oakland street was the Methodist Church, standing much below the present grade of the street, in constant danger of a drenching when Gravelly Creek became unruly. The creek was always an unknown quantity and therefore interesting. It might be a little stream just big enough to get wet in, or it might be wide and deep, overflowing its banks and flooding the roadway. In winter it was grith great satisfaction to themselves and delight for the children of the neighborhood. East of Mr. Jacobs' land was the James Tufts house, so called because Mr. Tufts had lived there previous to his removal to the three-story house east of Gravelly Creek. Next was Mr. Pyam Cushing's house. He was a coal dealer, with a wharf on Ship street. To this house he brought three wives and reared three sets of children; his children by his first wife were old enough to be parents of their youngest br
Lewis H. Washburn (search for this): chapter 18
tle wheelwright's shop back of his house facing Fulton street. The family had lived on Main street, where the Central Fire Station stands, but were burned out in the great fire of 1850 and never rebuilt. The house at the corner of Court street is a landmark, occupied for many years by Mr. Francis Ewell. The present engine house occupies the site of the Osgood School, which was moved to Wellington. The grocery store at the corner of Park street is little changed since the days when Lewis H. Washburn was its proprietor. Just opposite the head of Almont street, removed to build Otis street, was the most unique house in Medford, for it deliberately turned its back on the street and faced the sun. It had a lean — to on the street side and a pigpen in full view of the passer-by. I have read about houses which were built in early times, before the general use of clocks, facing exactly south, regardless of the highway, so that the noon mark on door or window-sill told the time correc
se making and mending tin ware. His work was 'pon honor. Good material and good workmanship went into the construction of his wares. The old Methodist Church, a tenement house then as now, has changed very little in half a century. On the corner of Cross street was Noah's Ark, in which Noah Hathaway and his wife reared at least nineteen children. Mrs. Hathaway never appeared outside her door-yard, but her husband was a constant attendant at the Methodist Church, where his resounding Amens disconcerted the stranger in pulpit or pew. Mr. Jaquith's store, in what we now call Washington Square (the naughty boys and girls called it Jake's), was well patronized by the youngsters. He sold groceries, candy, gum (prohibited in my case, although I fear sometimes enjoyed), pickled limes and other things too numerous to mention, strictly at retail. The store was open evenings (except possibly Wednesdays) and the men of the neighborhood made it their club room, where subjects big and
Russell Symmes (search for this): chapter 18
se a glass bottle which held three cents' worth, and I was quite a nabob (in my own estimation at least) because I bought in such wholesale quantities. How good that bakehouse smelt, especially on Sunday mornings! Many carried their pots of beans there to be baked and had big gingham squares to tie up their smoking and savory burdens to carry them home. The brownbread was nice and warm on winter mornings as we hugged it in our little arms and hurried home to breakfast. John Burnett, Russell Symmes and Mr. Howe were our good friends, and we often indulged in a fresh doughnut or warm cracker at their invitation. Those freshly baked crackers tasted good, all delicately brown on the outside and soft and flaky inside. No wonder people came from miles around to buy them. The Withington house and the Lawrence house opposite are connected with many a good time in the memories of my childhood. In this house [Medford Historical Rooms.] lived Mr. Charles P. Lauriat. Just back of it
Elizabeth W. Howe (search for this): chapter 18
em home. The brownbread was nice and warm on winter mornings as we hugged it in our little arms and hurried home to breakfast. John Burnett, Russell Symmes and Mr. Howe were our good friends, and we often indulged in a fresh doughnut or warm cracker at their invitation. Those freshly baked crackers tasted good, all delicately bink baby pigs. We hadn't any Board of Health, and we were sublimely indifferent to the need of one, in spite of these menaces to health as now understood. At Mr. Howe's home, at the corner of Allen court, I spent many happy days. In the pleasant kitchen we made paper bags for use at the bakehouse. The paper was dark, yellowi no children belonged there, and we certainly all belonged to Mr. and Miss Sawyer. Such fun as there was in running in for the swift-footed. When twilight fell Mrs. Howe or my mother rang the bell, which was the signal that the fun was over, and with good-night calls we all started for bed. Back of grandfather's barn was the g
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