Ice in the Summertime
When I was a kid in the early 1940's, one of the events we always waited for was the arrival of the ice man. Yes, some of our neighbors on Arnold Avenue still had ice boxes in their homes even into the 1940's. Once or twice a week the old ice truck would roll down the street and stop in front of a neighbor's house. I even have a earlier recollection of a wagon being drawn by an old horse or mule with big blocks of ice piled inside the covered bed.
Whichever way the ice came, it was the high point of our afternoon. We watched from the street as the man dragged a block of ice from the depths of the truck. He used his icepick to expertly chop off just the right amount of ice for his customer and then used his ice tongs to grab the block of ice and hoist it on his shoulders. Off he went with his load, all ready to place the block in his customer's icebox.
This was the moment we were waiting for! No sooner was the iceman out of sight then we kids jumped up on the running board in back of the open truck. There on the bed of the truck we found lots of slivers of ice that had shattered from the main block by the chopping icepick. We grabbed as many as we could and by the time the man returned, we were happily munching and crunching away in the middle of the street surrounding his truck. That was really cool in more ways than one!
At that time, there was an ice house on North Avenue in Barton Heights and that is probably where the iceman started his route.
We often played in the street. During the day, those people who had cars were at work. No one had TWO cars. Most of the traffic on Arnold Avenue were delivery people. We would often see Miller & Rhoad's or Thalhimer's trucks delivering purchases to their customers. Since most of the wives and mothers used the streetcars and later, the buses to go downtown to shop, the big stores would offer free delivery so that their customers wouldn't be loaded down with bags when they used public transportation.
My mother had milk delivery every morning from Richmond Dairy. In the winter, the cream would often rise in the glass bottles and poke out of the paper top. The milk was not homoginized at that time. The Bond Bread man also stopped by our house once or twice each week and my mother bought white bread from him. My Dad always brought home big fresh loaves of unsliced rye bread from Weiman's Bakery down on 17th Street near where he worked. I remember how Dad would sit at the kitchen table with his sharp butcher knife and slice off a big chunk of rye bread to eat with his hard salami or other sausage that he made himself down at Armour & Company where he was the master sausage maker/manager.
During the summertime, we would always get fresh vegetables from Mr. Batkins, who must have owned a truck farm in the Richmond area. My mother would always look for him each week as he drove his route through Highland Park.
It's fun to recall all these little memories of the past. I've got lots more of them.
Whichever way the ice came, it was the high point of our afternoon. We watched from the street as the man dragged a block of ice from the depths of the truck. He used his icepick to expertly chop off just the right amount of ice for his customer and then used his ice tongs to grab the block of ice and hoist it on his shoulders. Off he went with his load, all ready to place the block in his customer's icebox.
This was the moment we were waiting for! No sooner was the iceman out of sight then we kids jumped up on the running board in back of the open truck. There on the bed of the truck we found lots of slivers of ice that had shattered from the main block by the chopping icepick. We grabbed as many as we could and by the time the man returned, we were happily munching and crunching away in the middle of the street surrounding his truck. That was really cool in more ways than one!
At that time, there was an ice house on North Avenue in Barton Heights and that is probably where the iceman started his route.
We often played in the street. During the day, those people who had cars were at work. No one had TWO cars. Most of the traffic on Arnold Avenue were delivery people. We would often see Miller & Rhoad's or Thalhimer's trucks delivering purchases to their customers. Since most of the wives and mothers used the streetcars and later, the buses to go downtown to shop, the big stores would offer free delivery so that their customers wouldn't be loaded down with bags when they used public transportation.
My mother had milk delivery every morning from Richmond Dairy. In the winter, the cream would often rise in the glass bottles and poke out of the paper top. The milk was not homoginized at that time. The Bond Bread man also stopped by our house once or twice each week and my mother bought white bread from him. My Dad always brought home big fresh loaves of unsliced rye bread from Weiman's Bakery down on 17th Street near where he worked. I remember how Dad would sit at the kitchen table with his sharp butcher knife and slice off a big chunk of rye bread to eat with his hard salami or other sausage that he made himself down at Armour & Company where he was the master sausage maker/manager.
During the summertime, we would always get fresh vegetables from Mr. Batkins, who must have owned a truck farm in the Richmond area. My mother would always look for him each week as he drove his route through Highland Park.
It's fun to recall all these little memories of the past. I've got lots more of them.
posted by mary ann at 8:24 PM
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