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| Dempsey's Store, c.1880's |
The store that the Morris girls walked to one nice Saturday (and countless other days, to be sure) was Dempsey's Store, at the corner of Corner Ketch and Doe Run Roads. It's almost exactly one mile from their house on Pigeon Hollow Road. In 1885, John T. Dempsey, Jr. purchased about 38 acres from Victor du Pont (which du Pont had just purchased at a sheriff's sale) and opened a store, in addition to farming. In 1921, he sold the property to his son George W. Dempsey, so the Mrs. Dempsey referred to is probably George's wife Louise. The school and the lodge building mentioned by Myrtle will be addressed in future posts. The Dempsey property, while no longer a store, is still owned by the Dempsey family.
A Walk to the Store
It was a Saturday, a nice day weather-wise. Mother needed some things from the store. She asked my older sister Maud and me to go. Our little brother Will would have liked to tag along, but he was cutting kindling for the black cook stove, so we went without him.
The store was a long walk. My sister carried the folding money and grocery list. We passed lanes with farm houses in the distance and mail boxes standing at attention with their red flags down. We passed the sheep farm with the collie dog running along inside the fence, barking because we were strangers. We passed the barn and saw a flock of sheep in the meadow. They stood in their tracks watching us pass. Next came the school house lane and more farm houses with trees that overhung the road. We slowed down and enjoyed the shade. Over the hill we saw the big lodge building where our parents went on Monday nights.
The store had a front porch with rocking chairs. We climbed the steps and sat for a while to rest. We opened the big screen door that banged behind us. That brought Mrs. Dempsey from behind the counter to greet us. A grey cat sat on the floor and a black one curled in a cushioned chair. They did not move for they were used to customers coming in. My sister gave the list to Mrs. Dempsey and she started to gather things for us to take. We could hear her reading the list, “A half pound of dried beef, loaf of white sliced bread, small jar of peanut butter, and a box of saltine crackers.”
“Put them in two bags, please. They will be easier to carry,” my sister said. We heard the clicking of the keys on the big cash register and the drawer flew open. My sister handed her the folding money, and Mrs. Dempsey started to count the change. “Oh, we would like two licorice sticks, please.” She handed us each a bag and a licorice stick that looked like a black rope. Our trip home was uneventful for we were enjoying the licorice sticks that lasted till we got there.
Mother took the groceries out of the bags and put them away. Now we had our own brown bags to make covers for our school books. We carefully opened the seams and smoothed them out flat. We measured with the books spread out, and cut and folded until they had nice new covers. We printed the name of each book on the front. We knew the covers would help to keep the books clean for the next students, whose names would be listed on the front pages where ours were now.
That evening for dinner, we had dried beef gravy, fried potatoes, and sliced tomatoes from the garden. Just before bedtime, we had peanut butter and crackers for a snack. We were tired from the long walk to the store and ready for bed.
In this second piece we meet some of the people who would travel across the countryside, selling their products and skills -- all as seen through the eyes of a little girl. It's likely that the "ragman" was collecting for the Curtis Paper Mill down the road. Unlike most paper today, the Curtis Mill made their paper from cotton, much of it collected from the surrounding area. It would then go to the "rag ladies" at the mill, who would pull things like buttons off so the material could be processed.
The Tradesmen
Our bread man came in his brown uniform with a cardboard basket on his arm, loaded with sliced bread in colorful wax paper wrappers, rolls, and sticky buns. Just the smell was satisfaction. Mother baked bread, biscuits, and corn bread, so a selection from the basket was an extra treat. Cakes were made for special occasions, but seldom bought from the bread man.
We did not have a milkman. We got our milk from the farm next to us. Our brothers carried it home in small milk cans.
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| An iceman, although not in MCH. This is my Great-great Grandfather in Tuckahoe, New York |
The iceman was a regular. He delivered a big block of ice that fit in the wooden ice box that stood by the back door. Sometimes he had to chip it with the ice pick he carried in a holster on his belt, so the door could be closed. The chest had big metal latches on the doors to keep them secure. An ice pick always rested on top, the point stuck in a cork. A drip pan underneath had to be emptied often.
The hucksters were a colored family in their open bed truck. In the cab were small children, brown as coffee beans, with their hair in braids ending with bright beads. We talked to them as Mother bought cabbage and turnips, vegetables that our father never grew in our garden.
The gypsies came with much excitement. You could hear the tinkle of the bells that lined the outside of their wagon. The dapper horse had colorful plumes on its bridle. Mother heard the clip clop as they came near the house. She would call us to come in. She made sure the dog was inside too, for she thought they ate dogs. The ladies wore colorful skirts and blouses. Their bandanas held down their curly hair. Their large earrings shone in the sunlight, and their arms were covered in a bangle of bracelets. “Let us tell your fortune,” they called out. Mother closed the door and hoped they would go away.
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| A group of "rag ladies" at the Curtis Paper Mill |
Loud and clear, you could hear the ragman with his horse and cart. Mother could never understand why he paid good money for old rags, but we were encouraged to put worn-out clothes in a burlap bag for him. He weighed them on a big hook attached to a scale. It was fun to watch it hit the top. He would hand Mother folding money that she put in her apron pocket. He emptied the bag and gave it back to us to start over again.
The grinder man had a small wood-bodied truck with a grinding wheel bolted to the bed. There were tools and a few pots and pans hanging from the inside of the roof. Our father kept our knives sharpened with a whet stone. Mother had a small sauce pan with a hole in the bottom from sliding it on the wood stove. She asked the grinder man if he could fix it. “Sure,” he said, and put a small brad in the hole, pounded the metals together, and used the grinding wheel to make a smooth bottom. Mother was pleased to have her sauce pan back in use, but Dad called him a tinker and said he could have done the same.
As time went by, the wagons and trucks stopped coming. We drove to the grocery store and farm stands. The colorful parade, and the high-pitched voices calling out their wares, were gone.