The boats & fish heads

Pa had a little cottage industry of renting boats for fishing and also selling worms. Often times it was just the two of us at camp since mom was a single parent and worked full time at the armory I was shipped out for the summer. By the end of the summer the soles of my feet were like leather. Chores around the camp were part of life including feeding the "pet" rabbits which later were served for dinner. I lost my appetite for rabbit and turtle meat. The snapping turtles would be found on the fishing line that Pa would leave in the lake as we trolled into shore. Procedure was to chop off the turtle head and let it hang by the tail and bleed out. After that it was cleaning out the meat from the shell. Ugh! I can't express how bored I became sitting out in the boat for hours either trolling using a golden shiner or putting down the cement anchor and waiting. I never was a very patient person. I have on my mantle at home a "golden agers" golden cup that Pa won in a fishing derby. He got 1st place of course. Another dreaded task was scraping and painting and caulking the boats for the new season. They would be put in the water so that the seams would swell and become water tight. In the meantime they took on H2O and would be bailed out or sink. Pa got this red lead paint from somewhere and it never dried. Just brush against the boat and you had a red blotch on your leg. I wonder how much lead I have in my body to this day from that exposure. Pa was the consummate cheapskate and this new greening movement would be right up his alley. He recycled everything. Used nails were straightened and reused. All the drinks including the rare soda treat were cut 50/50. Never had anything full strength. The one thing he did instill was not to waste anything and to live as much as possible off of the land. His garden always included putting a fish head under the seed when planting. He also had a victory garden plot in Springfield's Blunt Park that I used to go with him to tend. My conservative bent is from Pa's example. What a blessing to have known him!!

Frogs and Worms

One of my earliest memories from camp had to do with frogs and worms. The frogs that congregated in a relatively narrow strip of shore between the Gladdings and the Harrigans were huge; and catching them was a favorite pastime when I visited as a kid. No, I never harmed them. It was “catch and (eventual) release” all the way. I would bring them to Margie and Pa each time to proudly show them my accomplishment; occasionally having to convince them that it was a different frog than the previous one. (Looking back, I was probably catching the same few frogs over and over and over). I knew that they were not particularly happy about me catching them, but I suspect it was tolerated because it kept me occupied for hours. And it was a fairly easy way to keep track of my whereabouts.

It was (and, come to think of it, still is) the closest that I have ever been to hunting. I realize now that hunting for frogs certainly can’t compare to hunting for deer or fox. It was nonetheless a very exciting adventure; a childhood game of wits, patience, and some physical accomplishment (it took the kind of quick moves and reflexes that would be most difficult to summon nowadays).

I wonder if the frogs are still there.

I’m sure that the worms are still there. It was a lot easier catching them. It never ceased to amaze me to see that worms liked coffee grounds. At that age, I hated the taste of coffee. I couldn’t imagine why worms would like anything that tasted like coffee. I remember listening (in disbelief) when Pa told me the first time that if we dumped the left over coffee grounds onto a pile of leaves in front of the cottage, giant worms would come up and eat them; making it very easy to catch them. But over and over, just as sure as the sun rose, so did the worms.

I don’t know what everyone else did when they first arrived at camp, but I know what I did. I started looking for frogs and worms.

Blueberry Picking and Dupree

Many a day I spent w/ Pa picking blueberries near leadmine. I have often thought whether I could find that blueberry patch again. It was all hi-bush and Pa would rig up a blueberry pail for me that hung around my neck. We would go in off of what I guess was leadmine road and follow stonewalls and go deep into the woods. I recall being scared when I couldn't hear Pa and would call out and he would admonish me to be still. It must have been that we were on Dupree’s (sp?) property and for whatever reason that guy didn’t want us there. He was just mean to all and I recall one time when we returned to Pa's Nash car he found that the gas had been siphoned off. Pa immediately accused Dupree. On another occasion while walking with Dave and others after a time of blueberry picking we ran into Dupree and he made us dump our pails of blueberries on the ground. Remember Dave? On those occasions when Pa and I returned with our pails full [Pa was a much better picker!] it was down to the lake to wash up with "yellow" soap so that we wouldn't get poison ivy. Then it was the cleaning of the berries to take out the twigs and other foreign material. Then often times I would go door-to-door around the lake peddling my pickings. Perhaps someday I will see if I can locate that patch again. Can't believe Dupree could catch me this time!

Pete, Camp and Capture the Flag

I recall that when Leon showed up at camp it was a big deal. He always had a nice car, usually a Packard, that was the envy of all. One of his Packards if you stood on the rear bumper a motor would come on and automatically level the car so we all had great fun jumping on the bumper and taking a ride. Pete was my playmate when he was there and I remember one time he had two cap gun pistols with holsters, man was he lucky. Sometimes we would play with toy boats and float them down the stream and was I appreciative when Vera suggested that he leave them behind with me! I also stayed with Pete and his parents at Ft. Devens in what I considered a brick mansion. Leon was Chief of Staff so he was an important guy. We went to the officer's club, performance of Russian dancers, movies, etc. Man I thought Leon was a king with all of his subjects waiting on him. Private parking with NCOs opening the car door and doing all the chores around the house. One day we also went into the Boston boat show for a treat. I recently revisited Ft Devens and found the house. All the houses are now privately owned and the base shut down and turned into a community. At camp I remember playing capture the flag and Leon used to play it for real. He even carried practice hand grenades in the trunk of his car that proved my point. I was usually captued first!

Gammie & "the camp" at Leadmine Lake

My first visit to "the camp" at Leadmine Lake was in 1954, I was 5 and the first time I met Gammie and Grandpa Harris. "Camp" was such a special place for the Harris’; especially for Grandpa Harris who bought the land and built the camp with his own hands. I understand that Grandpa Gladding and he spent many hours on the construction of the camp. And later becoming a very special place for their daughter Vera. I remember Grandma sharing pictures of the stages of construction of the camp with my children and wonder who has those pictures today.
My understanding from Grandma was that the Harris girls went to "camp" when school was out every summer with their kids. The men would drive them there and return with their cars back to Springfield, returning on weekends. The sisters and cousins would stay in their bathing suits all summer long while the cousins would run around barefooted. There was no running water at the time, I recall Mom showing us the spring were they walked to fetch drinking water (quiet a hike especially when fully loaded)
I returned to Leadmine Lake at 11 in the summer of 1960, Mom wanted to share with us her summer experience, Gammie was now 79 and staying with her daughter Vera at the time. We spent several weeks at “camp” I have many fond memories of that summer. Gammie at that time was 79: I too remember her as very old. She always had candy in her purse; she guarded her purse at all times. (I do not recall licorice per say, but do know that black licorice was our mom’s favorite candy, so perhaps she did have to guard her valuable possessions). Occasionally she would share her butterscotch candy with me but that was a momentous occasion, usually only when she restocked her stockpile. I remember Gammie being very quiet and all of a sudden would appear out of nowhere and despite her frailty oh, how she was able to maneuver the steep stairs up and down to the lake despite her age…(something I am able to admire today but at the time I certainly did not want to be stuck behind her as she slowly managed them. Her knees must have been in good shape despite her osteoporosis. I have no recollection of Gammie in the water or in a bathing suit during that time. To this day I wonder how she bathed...
Scat was a major past time that summer of 1960 and on subsequent summers thereafter. Indeed Scat was a ritual at “Camp”, don’t know if it was because there was nothing else to do at night but one thing is for sure, Scat not only was a tradition but certainly a motivator to clean up quickly after dinner! And it was such a kick as a kid to be able to play a game with a group despite the lack of the proficiency in the English Language. And it was so cool to have the grown ups include us! Scat may have been my intro 101 to the perils of gambling. I too recall Uncle John knocking as the cards were being picked up. Can someone share the rules of Scat and does the game have another name? Here are some pictures of Gammie and Grandpa Harris and at Leadmine.

Remembrances by Ginny

Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to really know “Grandpa Harris” (how he was referred in our home) having only met him in 1954 on our first trip to the US. What I do remember from that trip was his warm quiet manner and how proud he was of his camp at the lake (he introduced Billy and I for the first time to his piece of heaven on earth), his love for fishing and the fact, as was told by my father, that not only did Papi have great respect for Grandpa Harris but that he truly made him feel part of mom’s family.

In one of my conversations with Grandma (Vera) about Grandpa Harris’ kind and giving spirit, she shared that when she and Grandpa Gladding became pregnant with their first baby, my mother, they were very young, had to get married and they struggled financially; they were very poor: buying food and paying the bills was impossible to do. Grandpa Harris would stop by on a weekly basis to check on grandma and her baby. On one of those first visits, he noticed that they lacked heat and from then on he insisted that she accept money from him weekly to make ends meet. Grandpa Harris’ only request was for her to keep his generosity as a gift and it’s knowledge between them. Grandma was able to comply with his wish for secrecy but she kept a log of his “gifts” and she repaid him several years after that, Mom was 10.

Ginny's Dad with Grandpa Harris at Lead Mine

What a great blog idea Donald! You have inspired me to seek out pictures and dust the cow webs off my mind. As I looked at the pictures of Grandpa Harris I can’t help but see a great resemblance between he and you. Grandpa Harris and Donald look so much alike!

I am a newbe at this. This picture was taken on April 1954 Grandpa Harris and my father fishing at Leadmine Lake do you know who the blondie sitting at the dock might be?

[ed note: the picture perhaps was 1953, Pa died Jan 1954]