Exford L. King

cheryljk — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 20:11:03 +0000

Exford L. King

My dad always went by the name Exford Louis King. I notice, however, that in an old census report he is listed as Louis Xavier Exford Roy. Cousin Cheryl has explained the complexities of exploring and interpreting French-Canadian names. I won’t get into that. Anyhow, as the story goes Dad was born in the year 1900. His mother Emma ran what today would be called a bed and breakfast. There would only be a few guests at a time. In those days the expression “English” meant anyone who spoke English as their native tongue. And so, an English-speaking couple was enjoying the fresh mountain air in and around Chazy Lake. Grandmother Emma put them up while she was pregnant with my dad. The time of delivery came, and Dad was born at home. The “English” lady promised that if she could name the child, he would receive a handsome legacy. She named him Exford, perhaps partly after his father’s name of Xavier. Time passed but no monetary award ever followed. The name lived on, however. Dad named his oldest son James Exford and I named my son Michael Exford so the name continues. Incidentally, I was born in the same house thirty-two years later, and my grandfather added Xavier to my birth certificate.

Depression Baby

cheryljk — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 20:07:58 +0000

I was born in Chazy Lake, NY, in 1932. What was this rural area like at that time? First, remember that this was in the height of bad economic times–jobs were scarce, salaries were small The road that passed close by the house was still gravel, but soon the state decided to pave this road with concrete.

Dad got a job working for the WPA during the road construction. Actually, I was born in Grandpa Xavier’s house across the road from us. I was the fourth kid born in our family. Dad was paid about twenty-five cents an hour for mixing and laying concrete. He earned an extra fifty cents a day for lighting all of the kerosene signal flares along the new construction site at dusk. In the morning he would extinguish them, trim the wicks, and refill them. That gave him the handsome salary of $8.50 a week or about $400 a year. Perks! You gotta be kidding. Oh, by the way, Dad was also building a house.

There was no running water unless someone ran down the hill to the spring and scooped out a bucketful. I remember as a little kid trying to haul a pailful up the grade to help my mother who was washing clothes by hand. I had to use both hands and managed to spill half of the water on the way up. Usually my oldest brother, Jim, had that task. He could carry two pails at once.

It is hard to say which of my parents worked the hardest. Very likely it was a tie. I still can picture my mother dipping warm water from the reservoir on the side of the wood range and using this water to do the laundry. After rinsing and wringing by hand she would hang the items of clothing outside where, depending on the weather, they would either dry or freeze stiff. The wash tub she used was the same one I used while bathing in the kitchen next to the wood stove. Later she used a gasoline-powered washing machine with a roller wringer. This contraption was in the basement with an exhaust pipe running out the wooden door. Mother could never get the Maytag engine to start despite her protestations. That became Jim’s responsibility. It was, nevertheless, an improvement.

In those days of no-press laundry, everything had to be hand pressed with a hot iron. We had several small irons with detachable handles. Mother would line these up on the hot wood range and iron clothes until one would start to cool off. Then she would replace it with a hot one.

Electricity finally did come in the early forties and with it there were many improvements such as lights, refrigerator, freezer, radio, iron, and other things that we didn’t even know existed.

I should also point out that Mother came down with tuberulosis when I was two. She received treatment in a sanatorium in Saranac Lake. While she was away Dad hired a woman as cook and housekeeper. This woman fed us well. She did, however, bring in some unwanted guests, namely bedbugs. When mother returned, she found us fat and sassy but also covered with bug bites. People then didn’t rely on sprays or baits to eliminate insects. Big brother Jim had to remove all of the mopboards and wash everything down with kerosene to kill in insects, their larvae, and nits.

For several years we had the luxury of a two-hole outhouse which made for company on frosty mornings. Toilet paper was too expensive so a Montgomery Ward catalog sufficed. Every year dad would move the biffy a short distance and shovel dirt in the old opening.

In cold weather we heated the house by wood. We had a nice grove of maple and beech trees which we cut with a crosscut saw and split by hand. At first my two older brothers did the wood work, but soon I had to help as much as I could. I never even saw a chainsaw until well into the 50’s. Mother cooked with a wood-burning range. She mastered the use of this type of cooking even though she grew up as a city girl. This range also heated the kitchen area. In addition there was a rather fancy wood stove in the living room close to the stairway leading upstairs. I remember that the stove door had some small isinglass windows so one could see the fire. At first the upstairs depended on heat rising from below. Later Dad installed a humongous furnace that burned either wood or coal. There were ducts leading to the various rooms. Sometime in the 40’s we started to use hard coal. That was a big improvement.

Even though we still didn’t have electricity, Dad devised a way for us to have running water. First of all he hand dug a ditch to the spring and attatched a hand pump in the kitchen. Then he bought a hydraulic ram for twelve dollars. This operated without electricity and served us well for several years. At first the stream of water that came to the kitchen simply squirted in with a swoosh, swoosh, swoosh sound and splashed into the sink. Before long he had installed a large tank way up in the attic. This gave us a pressurized system so that we finally had a sink with faucets, a bathtub, and a flushing toilet. Of course, having all of this water to spare meant that a cesspool needed to be dug and so it was. Dad also ran a loop of water pipe into the interior of the furnace to heat water. There was no pump. The warmed water would rise to the upstairs bathroom and the kitchen then gradually as it cooled it would drain down to be recycled. It worked.

Nowadays we have many electric and electronic gadgets to amuse ourselves with. When we were kids one of our forms of entertainment was a wind-up Victrola with two 78 rpm records. Oh, wow! Later we had a batter-powered radio. As the battery started to run down, we kids had to sit closer and closer to the speaker in order to hear. The set required two batteries, one of which was quite large. We had to wait until the batteries were completely run down before we could buy new ones.

By this time Dad had hired on at the mines in Lyon Mountain. He worked on the surface in the concentrator. Before long he was promoted to foreman and, finally, financial problems diminished.

Continuation of Depression Baby

I still remember my first day of school in Chazy Lake. This was a one-room school that housed students from grades 1 through 8, all taught by one teacher. My first one was named Anna Alpert.

I remember my dad saying that “old” Sullivan King (Séraphim Roy) donated the land for the school and that his son Xavier built the frame school using NYS architectural plans. Aunt Valeda thought that he actually build the Ledger’s Corner School instead so I don’t know for sure. I have an original insurance policy for the building dated 1914. That could be the year of completion.

Prior to that there was a stone structure about half way between the school and Noel’s store. Uncle Sullivan said that he attended the stone school at first. It had rows of plain benches for the scholars to sit on, and each one had a slate and chalk to do their sums or to write. It is likely that the other children of Emma and Xavier also used this stone school. At first it was called “King School”.

I had turned five a few weeks before school opened in 1937, and I followed my older brothers and my sister to school. I was barefooted as usual. Some of the older kids laughed at me. I suppose that it was childhood peer pressure that encouraged me to wear my shoes the next day. Anyhow, the teacher let me stay. Each seat accommodated two students and had an empty inkwell. Later on, about once a year we would be allowed to use a steel dip pen and fluid ink to write a composition in ink. Penmanship was considered very important and we practiced our Palmer Method carefully. That first year I sat with my big brother Jimmy who was in eighth grade.

Each grade only had four of five students so classes were necessarily short so that the teacher could cover every class. Two sides of the room were mostly covered by slate blackboards. This way several students could be writing or calculating simultaneously. The teacher had to write all of her tests, announcements, and lessons on the board. Music class was always on Friday afternoon. There was one set of paper-covered song books that were used year after year. All grades sang together such ditties as “Solomon Levi”, “Silver Threads among the Gold’. and “When Johnnie Comes Marching Home Again”. The second teacher I remember was a Miss Cannon (sp?). After that it was Aunt Delia, and, wonder of wonders, she had a piano brought in. Not only that, but she could play it. Drawing class was also an all-class activity. Sometimes the priest from Lyon Mountain would come to impart some knowledge of catechism.

The biggest social event of the year for us scholiasts was the Christmas program. Of course, there was always a pageant involving the Holy Family, shepherds, and even a donkey wearing a gray blanket. There were recitations and songs. Once when I was ten, I played “Silent Night” on a button accordian. World War II had started by then so we boys wanted to emulate our fighting heroes. We all wore leather pilots’ helmets with goggles on top. Peter Garcia, Victor Dubrey and I made up a trio. With great gusto we sang “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition!” Naturally, we were each wearing our treasured helmet.

The stage was in the front of the room with the teacher’s desk removed. The older boys would stretch a piece of strong telephone wire across the room. We used several brown army blankets which were pinned and draped over the wire for curtains.

It seemed like every person, young and old, attended this momentous event. There wasn’t enough room but people crowded around. Since there was no electricity one of the farmers would bring a mantle-type lantern that burned gasoline to provide light. It would hiss and emit quite a bit of heat. There was also heat from the wood burner, and all of the bodies. Finally Santa Clause would Ho Ho his way in while carrying a big sack. I decided that it was really Benny Brooks, a local storekeeper , and a friend of everyone. Earlier, everyone would exchange names and buy a small present for the other person. Sometimes the teacher would give small presents and students would give one in return. Finally, Santa would hand out these presents as well a a piece of red and white ribbon peppermint candy.

To be continued, please stay tuned

According to my dad, the Chazy Lake Schoolhouse was built to state specifications for one-room rural schools. He was the school Trustee, and, before him, his father was. My best guess is that it was completed about 1914. Years later after the school closed and the students were transferred to the Ellenburg district, the building was purchased and converted to a home or cabin.

The construction seemed to be very sturdy. Inside, the classroom ceiling walls were quite tall, ten feet or more. The walls and the ceiling were covered with wainscoting or slate blackboard. Outside, the site was on a slope heading east. If one were to enter the room, he would first go up a flight of wooden stairs and then would enter a small unheated entry area. This led through a hallway into the classroom. First, however, there were doors heading left and right that led into the cloakrooms. One for boys and one for girls. Here one would store winter coats, boot, mittens, hats, scarves, and lunchboxes.

If one were to continue left or right it would lead into a little room with a chemical toilet. Early in the season this was not too malodorous, and there was plenty of space down the cylindrical sanitation shaft. When necessary the janitor or teacher would add more chemicals to the contents of the shaft.

All too soon, however, the toilets would become quite full. This necessitated switching to the double-roomed outhouse, one for boys and one for girls. This was attached to the woodshed behind the school. And, imagine, there was real toilet paper. In June after school was out someone would come and empty the contents of the chemical toilets and carry the it away. One time, however, the person in charge of emptying deposited the material just over the rear fence. If someone hit a home run during a baseball game, no-one was anxious to retrieve the ball.

During both recess and lunch break, baseball was the game of choice for the older boys. The littler kids played tag or horsey. The local farmers still used horses, and, so, the kids were used to being around them. They wanted to be like their dad or older brother and use horses. There was often a number of small metal condensed milk cans lying around. The little boys invented a way to step on a can a certain way so that it would curve around their shoe and be locked in place. This, they imagined, was a horseshoe. They would then take a short piece of clothesline and curve it around one boy’s shoulders while the other boy, directly behind him, held onto the reins, and the two of them would trot gleefully around the yard. The girls played tag and Captain May I. If the weather was really inclement, kids would stay inside and color or visit with one another.

When recess or lunch break was over the teacher would step outside and ring the bell. One time just as the bell rang I fell out of the apple tree and hit my head on the concrete slab of the well. I’m not sure how long I lay there conked out. No one had missed me, and when I did wake up I felt woozy. When I reentered the room and told the teacher what happened, she sent me home alone. I suppose having a telephone at school for emergencies was considered too extravagant. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway because we didn’t have a phone at home until later.

Occasionally when all of the lessons had been finished, one of the girls would ask the teacher if they could play “Teakettle”. This was a word game involving homonyms, words that sounded the same. Someone would be chosen to be it. He or she would go into the entry room, and the door would be closed. Together the students would choose two and sometimes three words that sounded the same such as “to, too, two”. For instance, if the selected words were “wood and would”, the one who was it would come in and be subjected to questioning. A person might say, “I hammered the nail into a piece of “teakettle”. Then the person would try to guess. Finally he or she would realize what the word was.

To be continued……..

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cleadslinger — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 01:14:07 +0000

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Exford L. King

Exford L. King

Depression Baby

Hello world!