Memoirs of Norbert E. Gnadinger, Sr. Volume 1

1934

Guess what? I am now a teenager. I don’t believe we were called exactly that during my young years but that is what I became. I turned thirteen on June 27th of this year and I am starting the eighth grade at school. This makes me an older and superior being in school. Don’t you imagine that we looked down on the other little kids? You bet, and Sister Modesta soon brought us back down to earth. Yes, she has moved up also and is now teaching the eighth grade. She also has retained her position as principle of the school. I believe the theme of her teaching was the need for hard work and a serious approach to studying so that we will enter high school with an advantage. I hadn’t thought much about high school up to then because it wasn’t talked about at home, but Sr. Modesta made it clear that all of her students should take high school very seriously. Before I really new what was happening, I even began thinking of attending St. Xavier High School. That was the ultimate goal of most boys. Presentation “Academy” or Mercy “Academy” seemed to be the main choices of the girls.

My grades didn’t improve as much as they had in the sixth and seventh grades, but I held my own. I had learned a lesson and I continued to appreciate it. You will be surprised in what I improved the most. Religious Teaching(catechism and bible history)and Punctuality where I began a string of perfect attendance marks which lasted until my senior year in High School. Since I was married then and trying to work and finish my education at the same time, I had a reason to miss a couple of school days. I finished the eighth grade with a final exam. average of 87.

It is difficult to be nostalgic if you can’t remember everything. I seem to have a hard time recalling much from my grade school days. I know they were mostly interesting but not much stood out enough to make an impression for my memory. I do know that I have vivid memories of happenings away from the class room. One of those occasions was my graduation from grade school. I was ready to move on to a more exciting. life. I had no suit to wear and “cap and gowns” were unheard of in grade school. Naturally, the graduation ceremony was part of a “High” Mass in church and we marched up to the communion rail to receive our diplomas. After the church ceremony, we filed out and crossed Shelby Street for a special meal just for the graduates. Then we all sang: “Schools out, Schools out, Sister let the monkeys out.”(This was not an organized singing special). Crossing Shelby Street between the Church and School and vise versa would be a hazardous undertaking today with the heavy automobile traffic but at that time in 1935 the nuns did most of the traffic control duties. I never heard of anyone getting hurt during these crossing periods and no police “crossing guards” were used.(2-5-2001)

I may bore you to death, but I get a big kick out of talking about the differences between the way we were able to lead our life in those days and the way you are required to live today. For instance, I was thirteen years old when this occurred. The selected place for voting in that election was in the Schneider’s front room at 1003 Ellison. The man in charge of the Democratic workers was short one person. Guess who was hired to fill the vacancy? I suppose they turned in the name of an older person for the record but I was the one who was paid. My duties were to visit people all through our area to remind them to vote and to find out if they needed transportation. I must have done a good job because they invited me into the garage behind Russ’s Tavern for a free bottle of beer and a sandwich. No one thought anything of this and I was very happy to get the money and the treat.

Russ’s Tavern(Beer Joint) was located on the corner of Kreiger and Charles Sts. The building was brick and there was a section of the side facing Kreiger which contained no windows. This is where we hit the ball when we were playing hand-ball. Only now do I wonder why Mr Russ didn’t stop us from playing there. He surely could hear the ball constantly hitting the bricks. Maybe he thought of us as future potential customers. And, maybe he was just a nice fellow.

Just across the alley from Russ’s garage and situated behind Sommers’ Drug Store was a store front which contained a bakery run by a Mr. J.L. Ruff and his wife. He baked all night and she ran the store during the day. He wasn’t as good a baker as Mr. Gander on Reutlinger St., but he was more convenient. While I was courting Helen, I would deliver her back to her home, walk all the way to Ruff’s Bakery and Mr. Ruff would let me into the oven area where he was preparing the next days bakery goods and where I could purchase, really fresh rolls or donuts. I told you I was always hungry. I picked up a glass of milk at home for this feast. I must have done this about once a week when I had the money.

On the corner of Ellison Ave. and Kreiger St. across from Sommers’ Drug Store, Jake Hellman ran a grocery store. Jake Hellman was well known and well liked all through Germantown. A couple years before this time, Jake moved his grocery to the corner of Charles and Kreiger Sts. He then had his old store torn down and the lot leveled down to the street level. He then began construction of a new, two story brick building extending back to the alley and containing shops on the ground floor and apartments on the second floor. I think he originally intended to move his grocery back into the store facing Ellison Ave. but he remained on Charles St. Evidently he was very successful at that location and decided to remain there. He rented the store front for a hardware store and a variety of others over the years. The small store fronts facing Kreiger St. he rented to the Biz-E-Bee Cleaners, the C.G. Ross Dry Goods and last, but not least, to Peter J. Coater the barber(Pete the Barber). Pete became famous as the person who took up barbering to keep from starving to death during the Depression, who never became very good at it and who was responsible for my famous hair style that everyone would kid me about after seeing my wedding pictures. I thought, at the time, that I was getting an excellent hair cut. It was inexpensive. Evidently, I didn’t look in the mirror too often. Pete, like all barbers, was a friendly type and I liked him very much.(2-8-2001)

While Jake Hellman’s apartment house, as we called it, was being built, we kids were having a ball playing in it. No one ever chased us away. From the start of construction to the finish, we explored every area of the building. We didn’t learn a whole lot but we were curious to see everything that was included in such a large(?)building. Up to this point, we had only witnessed commonplace house construction. None of us kids ever did anything new or daring until one of our friends would challenge us with “I dare you.” If it was really dangerous, in our minds, then they would “double-dog dare you.” One of the new things about Jake Hellman’s building was the large pile of sand dumped next to the wall of the building. The new fun thing was jumping out of the second floor down into the pile of sand. It was scary. I wasn’t too happy about trying this jump but when they “double-dog dared “ me I had to do it. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt and the second time was easier and a lot more fun.

We did so many dumb things while playing that I have often wondered why I was still alive or at least, not maimed. Before the railroad company elevated the R.R. tracks through Germantown to cross above Breckinridge and Broadway Sts., one of our tricks was to climb on the lower step on the end of a box-car after they finished switching in and our of Durkees Products at Goss Ave. The train would pick up speed slowly and we would ride along until we jumped off at a slow run at St. Catherine or Kentucky Sts. This was a real thrill and required some skill. This event has always remained in my active memory. I climbed on the step one day for the ride and by the time the train crossed St. Catherine St., it was going faster than usual and I was afraid to jump. By the time it reached Breckinridge St., I was getting desperate but the train had not picked up any more speed. I thought that Broadway was my last chance because I didn’t know what was beyond there. I had a little time to plan and I thought, correctly, this time, that if I got my legs moving as though I was running hard before I touched the ground I might be better off. So, as I came to the edge of the street I started moving my legs as fast as I could and let loose of the step. I hit the street running and stayed upright and stopped before I completely crossed Broadway St. What a relief to know I hadn’t been hurt but I still peed in my pants and I had a longer walk home. All the boys saw me stay on the box-car and later when I told them all about my experience, I had bragging rites. I also learned enough, through fear, to give up this method of train riding.

When everyone was dependent on the horse for transportation there was a great need for a convenient way to supply water for the horses. So the city government perhaps through the Water Company, which they owned, set up, all over the city and about a quarter mile apart, water troughs. We called them “horse troughs.” They were located just off the street behind the curbing and were shaped just like your wash bowl in your bathroom but were about five times larger and about twice as deep. In the center along the back was a water pipe, about a half inch size, sticking up and the water was running all of the time. At least, every time I saw one, the water was running. The water was clear, pure and cool. We hardly ever passed one without getting a drink from it. The trough overflowed into the gutter. Another source of water for drinking and general usage were hand pumps over wells left from the time when not every home had running water to the house. There was one such pump located on the corner of Shelby Parkway and Logan Street until well after World War II. One of us pumped while the others cupped their hands and drank deeply.(2-10-2001)

Pop chewed tobacco and Bernie smoked the natural leaf before he took up the habit of smoking cigars. I tried chewing tobacco one time when I was a lot younger and I got very sick when I swallowed some of the juice. Nobody told me you shouldn’t do that. I never tried chewing again. In season, Goss Ave. was a main corridor for transporting large trays containing “hands” of tobacco between the warehouses out Poplar Level Rd. and the tobacco companies in Louisville. I was most always riding my bicycle somewhere and when I happened to be on Goss Ave. and one of these tobacco trucks rumbled by, I would ride very fast, catch up to the truck and pull a “hand” of tobacco out. I felt proud when I presented the “hand” to Pop later. I know, I’m going to end up in Hell, but I’ve always said that anyway. Again, I didn’t think that I was stealing.

Most people today believe that the Putt-Putt style of playing golf is a fairly new phenomenon. Some of you probably could care less but I’m going to inform you anyway. During the 1920s, in a lot at Shelby and Eastern Parkway where there is now located a small shopping center, there was built possibly one of the first Putt-Putt miniature golf courses in the country(?). It was talked about all through Germantown and Schnitzelburg. Incidentally, everything out past Clarks Lane was in the country. Later, when the magnificent Post Office building at fourth and Chestnut Sts. was demolished, a Putt-Putt golf course was temporarily installed on that site. It didn’t last long for the lot was used to put up the present building on the corner.(Aunt Rose Schuster’s son, Charles J. Martin died, Nov. 25, 1934)

When did your voice change? I’m talking primarily to the male gender. When did you stop being a soprano in the church choir and began singing bass? When we boys were younger, we thought it was real funny to let out a scream at each other. While swimming out at Beargrass Creek the next best fun thing after swimming was to hide in the bushes and the boy with the best female sounding scream would scare the naked boys to death. At the sound of the scream, most all of the boys would hit the water to protect their masculinity from, what they thought was, a nosy girl. This usually worked with the new and younger boys. At the Fountaine Ferry Park Skating Rink there was always someone letting out one of these screams as they skated up behind another skater. Of course, the girls were too sophisticated to join in with the stupid boys. Give this very important idea a lot of thought so you can tell your children. I didn’t do a lot of screaming because I wasn’t very good at it but I do believe that my voice “changed” during this year.

Fall of each year has many good memories. One of them was not the required start of the new school year. Anticipation of winter and the fun we would experience with the first snow fall was one important thing to look forward to. One of my jobs at home besides cutting grass in our little yard, was raking and burning the leaves in the fall. Here, again, you folks cannot know the joy of burning the leaves and savoring the aroma of the smoke from the mix of leaves accumulating in the yards and on sidewalks. Today, there are laws which prevent you from enjoying another of the many things we took for granted. The smoke was like a perfume which covered the entire neighborhood and probably the whole city and this fact reminds me of another happening in my life.

The evidence to back up my story is still there on Ellison Ave. for all to see. The curbings along the streets in early Louisville were not poured concrete like they are today. They were made up of very large pieces of granite about five inches thick and three foot wide by about eight foot long. Each stone was stood up lengthwise at the edge of the street. About eight inches would stick up to form a gutter. We burned the leaves in these gutters. This one time I was burning leaves, I must have worked up quite a hot fire and there had to be some moisture remaining in the granite curb for I heard a loud crack and, all at once, there was a big, rounded chuck of granite broken away from the curbing. After I had burned all the leaves, I fitted the granite chunk back into place because I didn’t want anyone to know I had caused this. Later, the chunk disappeared and we used this opening to jump the curb with our bicycles when riding to or from our house. You can see this opening in the curb today in front of 1029 Ellison Ave.(2-25-2001)

At the beginning of this school year, I acquired a responsible task. My nephew, “Bobby”(Robert F., Jr.) was now six years old and had been enrolled in St. Vincent de Paul School. My new job was to ride Bobby to school each day and take him home after school let out. Robert, Pauline and the kids lived on Samuel St. at this time so it was easy to pick him up and ride him on the luggage rack. In principle, this sounded great. In fact, it was impossible. There was no way that Bobby would ride with me to school. At the time, he also did not want to go to school. We tried every pursuasion but he would not go with me. I don’t think I had a real bad case of body-odor. Robert and Pauline evidently came up with a solution for Bobby did attend school but I didn’t have to take him.

I don’t intend to over-tax your memory of popular songs from my memory of those songs making their way through my culture and times. There is only one which continues to be played and sung at most senior citizen events. If suggestions for songs are called for from the audience, this will be one of those offered. “Let me call you Sweetheart.” Here it is but you will have to furnish the music.

Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in Love with you.

Let me hear you whisper, that you love me too.

Keep the love light glowing, in your eyes so blue.

Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.

The lyrics are simple and to the point. They do not call for anyone to be killed or raped. The memories they recall are of the first love which became your permanent love, for life.

In order to survive the depression, people took up many new professions. Have you ever eaten a “Charlotte Russe?” It is made up, mostly, of whipped cream, egg, lemon, sugar and lady fingers. This describes the “charlotte.” The “Russe” was probably added because this desert was improved by the Russian chefs. Anyway, this delicious and fattening dessert was carried around in a shoulder pack in a large metal container packed in ice and sold door-to-door. If you wanted to purchase a serving, the vendor would pull out a cardboard cup similar to the “to-go” soup cups of today, line it around with lady fingers and fill the center with the charlotte russe mixture. A red cherry was placed on top and you were given a small wooden spoon with which to eat it. It was goo-ood. Another money-maker was the “Gypsy”(?), the music box powered by a handle which he turned, and the monkey. You could hear his music a block away and by the time he arrived at your house, you had begged a penny and were waiting for him. The “Gypsy’(?) first played his song on the music box and then had the monkey go from person to person with his little tin cup to beg for coins. If you tossed him the penny, he would never miss catching it. After collecting from everyone, the monkey would hop up onto the music box and give the cup to his master. We called his master a gypsy only because he was dressed in a costume which, in our minds, could only belong to a mysterious “gypsy.” We also had going through the neighborhood various “hucksters” or peddlers. They came through with a horse and wagon or a light truck. Some of them sold vegetables or knick-knacks(anything) and others bought your junk to be resold at a downtown market. You could hear their call all over the area: “rags, old iron.” Some of these “hucksters” eventually saved enough money to open their own store front selling their specialty and more.

Because of the many horses being used on the streets of the city-milk and bakery goods were still being delivered this way up into the early 1950s-the air polluted by the horse-manure(free fertilizer) became very raunchy in the summer months. Some homes were not hooked into the sewage system and the septic system would back up to add to the bad aroma. The city furnished water-sprinkler wagons and trucks which traveled the streets flushing all the stink down the sewers. This helped quite a bit. Later, the city forced all the property owners to hook into the municipal sewage system and the many trucks which became available eliminated the manure source.