I was born on March 11, 1921. I was the youngest of five children. I was the third generation of my family to be born in Hopedale. My grandfather, Adin Augustus Messinger, was born in Hopedale. My mother, Flora Messinger Hammond, was born at 94 Hopedale Street. I was born at 8 Union Street.
I asked my father for five cents during the Depression. He was making thirty-five cents and hour and working ten hours a week - $3.50. He told me to ask my brothers. They were making more selling papers.
When I got to high school we'd pay twenty-five cents a month to a kitty for the Washington trip in our senior year.
In my senior year, we'd pick up newspapers. Draper Corporation supplied a driver and string to tie the papers. On Monday morning, they'd come to the Bancroft Barn. Drapers used the papers to pack castings that they sold. They'd pay us top dollar for the papers.
When I was a youngster a bell would ring at 8:55 every evening for five minutes. That was the curfew. If you didn't get home on time, you'd be kept in the following night. I'd never tell if I'd done anything wrong because if I did, I'd get another night tacked on.
I used to peddle papers from a little red wagon. I was ten when I started. I'd start at 6 A.M. in front of the main door at Drapers. I also had a huge paper route. I'd begin on Hope Street, go up to 200 Dutcher Street (both sides of the street), all of Inman Street, go through the woods to Park Street, and up Northrop to Oak Street. From there I'd go to Jones Road (up to 99), then Maple Street, down Freedom Street and end at 61 Prospect Street. I did this twice a day and I made $6.00 a week. I'd begin my morning route at seven and finish around eight-thirty. I'd start my afternoon route at four and end about six. I'd do this six days a week. The papers cost two cents a day. The customers would pay fourteen cents a week. I'd keep the extra two cents. Some would give me more, like a piece of cake or an apple.
Part of the Boston Post Road went through the cemetery.
I used to slide down Northrop Street.
If you were downtown in winter and throwing snowballs, Officer Louis Barrows would tell you to stop. If you didn't, he'd BOOT you. If you didn't tell your father, he would.
In back of the Harrison Block (where the pizza place is now) there used to be a restaurant called Butterfield's. There were two bowling alleys there. Mr. and Mrs. Peter Carron (my in-laws) owned it. When Mr. Cox, who owned the Brae Burn Inn (where the parking lot across from the post office is now) left, the Carrons took it over. That was 1926. They ran it until 1950. The Brae Burn Annex used to be where the post office is now.
I remember a restaurant at the corner of Social and Dutcher Streets. [The other side of Social Street from the fire station.] Craddock's Fish Market was in back. Harley's Shoe Repair was also there.
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