Substitute Teachers

 

I spent my elementary school years at the Bigelow School located off West Fourth St. in Southie. I was there during the second World War in the 1940’s. The teachers were a dedicated group that did their best to educate a bunch of misbehaving preteens. Because many young people were off fighting the War or supporting the War effort our teachers were on the elderly side. It wasn’t unusual that they were absent part of the school term and as a result we had so called substitute teachers. They never actually taught. They were hired to maintain order. When the War was over we began to have younger substitutes and I have memory of two in particular.

The first was a soldier recently mustered out of the Army. He had served in Italy and before he left decided to visit Rome. He spent his time with us discussing the sites he had visited. A church with a magnificent altar and a soaring rotunda. A sculptor of Mary cradling her son. A chapel with beautiful paintings on the ceiling and walls. Ancient ruins of the Colloseum and central plaza. He went on for the entire period and I personally was engrossed in all that he offered. I knew then that was something I would have to see for myself. Fifty years later after I retired my Wife and I made it to Rome to take in all that he described. If you think Teachers don’t have influence on young minds, think again.

The second was a music teacher who came prepared with her sheets of music that was popular among the Union and Confederate soldiers during the Civil War. Songs like “When Johnny Comes Marching Home, John Brown’s Body, Dixie, Battle Hymn of the Republic” etc. One song in particular stands out in my memory- Massas in the Cold Cold Ground. She led us in song by accompanying us on the piano. As I mentioned we were a mischievous bunch of 11 year olds so when it came to the chorus, without any previous class communication, yelled out as loud as we could muster “My Ass is in the Cold Cold Ground” Since there were multiple choruses to be sung there was no question of our intent. We waited for her reaction after the song ended. We got none. Turn to the next sheet please is what we heard. A truly dedicated teacher.

 

SPELLING BEE

 

In the 1940’s I attended the Bigelow School which was a short walk from my home on West Fifth St. in Southie. In those days there was a very popular radio program where children from the Boston School system got together to compete in a spelling bee contest. It was similar to more recent national Television competitions but on a regional scale. I was chosen to represent the Bigelow school. The rules were simple. For every word you spelled correctly you were given a small monetary award which was yours to keep even if you didn’t win the contest.

It was a little nerve racking since it was live radio and we were quite young. It took some time to settle my nerves but once we got going it went fairly well. I didn’t win but I did earn a couple of dollars which made the experience worth my while. I managed to spell some fairly hard words but failed on one of the more simple ones. Some 80 years have passed and I have never misspelled that word again. This is the word “pretty.”

As the program was coming to the end the announcer called on me to ask what I was going to spend my money on. I suspect he was hoping I would say something like flowers for my mother or a tool for my father. Unfortunately my nerves came back and I blurted out that I was going to count out the money to make sure I received all that I was due. Needless to say I wasn’t asked to come back the following year.

Ninety years old

 

I lost someone very dear to me yesterday. We shared the same households on both the lower end and City point sections of Southie . Although technically a cousin he was more like a brother who I looked up to in my formative years. His name was George Kotelly and I will sorely miss him. He often commented on my postings because it reminded him of our common experience growing up in Southie. He constantly encouraged me to put my musings into book form. This is dedicated to him.

Ninety years ago this week I was born into this world. It was at the height of the depression so my parents opted to have me birthed at our home on West Fifth St. I lived my first 32 years in Southie, left when I married and returned often to help my parents through their old age. My early childhood memories reflect the period l grew up in, probably different than yours.

Men were the primary providers for the family and women mainly stayed home to raise their children. The majority of the work was manual or factory- based. Primary employment was at Gillette Razor, unloading goods from ships docked in Boston Harbor, working at the main Post Office and or the rail yards, both located at South Station. Others became policemen or firefighters and on our street, priests. This remained true until WWII started when many (men and women) went to the Quincy Yards to build ships for the war effort.

The main means of transportation was the electric trolley. They crisscrossed Southie and you could get anywhere in Town for the cost of a dime. Air travel was in its infancy and cars were still a luxury item only a few of our neighbors could afford.

The Carney Hospital was close by and was convenient for patching up bruises and stitching up wounds. I was a constant visitor, so I was sad went it moved to Dorchester. Even sadder when I learned its doors are now shuttered. Polio was a major concern since the vaccine was yet to be discovered . A sigh of relief when it did become available.

 My father took me to the seaport to meet the fishing boats recently returned from the sea. He would negotiate directly with the fishermen the price he was willing to pay, always successfully, and we would have the freshest fish for our meal that evening. Today I get lost among all of the high rise buildings.

Entertainment included radio shows and the movies, available at our two theaters Broadway and the Strand. Television was several years later for me. There were 3 networks and they signed off around midnight with the National Anthem playing. Telephones were a novelty and when we finally got ours we had to share it with 3 other parties. It was fun listening in on their conversations. The street had many children to play with and upon leaving your house you were engaged immediately in a game.

The ice truck brought huge trunks of block ice to the street. How the driver managed to deliver them to the top floor of the three deckers always amazed me. We waited until he was out of sight then grabbed the shavings off of the truck to suck on. Totally unsanitary, so it is amazing we survived. Each street had a mom and pop store at the end of it.

 WWII had a major impact on us all. Food was rationed and each household had a ration book which was presented to the grocer when making a purchase. The older boys went off to war and sadly several did not return. Their parents placed a gold star service flag in their window and the Street mourned for their loss. VE Day was celebrated at Dorchester Heights with hundreds of our neighbors.

I look fondly at my time in Southie and return now and again to my childhood locations. Carson Beach, the L St Bath House, Kelley’s landing, Castle Island, Dorchester Heights , the Boys Club-all  bring back many wonderful memories.