Cramer Street

MEMORIES OF NORTH TONAWANDA'S CRAMER ST.
by Walter Sprenger

We lived in the last house on Cramer Street in N. Tonawanda, but at one time a family by the name of Zimmerman lived beyond our house, which they moved to East Robinson St.  There were no electric wires to contend with at the time and no one objected to moving a house across an open field.

I was only a kid at the time and 76 years is an awful long time to remember details but, as I recall, the house was jacked up and two long beams were put under it, long ropes were fastened to it somehow and a turntable was stationed at the end of the rope.  A horse, harnessed to the turntable, would then go round and around winding the rope around a center post and as the house was moving men would place planks and rollers under the house.

Cramer St. was the main road to Martinsville at that time and tramps, wearing their entire possessions, would often stop for a little nourishment before tackling that mile or so to the next house.

There were no salesmen, but peddlers would often stop.  One was a woman who carried two big black suitcases, loaded with “stockings for the baby or a nice scarf for the lady.”  Even if Mother said she couldn't buy anything, the woman would sit on the back porch for a half hour or so and, as I think back, she really needed that rest to get back to “up town.”

Another peddler with his two bags was Mr. Pholl.  His merchandise was medicine, much of which he prepared from herbs that he gathered in the fields surrounding North Tonawanda.

I don't know how much information he passed out free, but one day Granddad was home from work with a sore on his leg that wouldn't heal and Mr. Pholl chided him for not using the stuff that was growing in the yard.  Mr. Pholl washed some pig leaves, mashed them and put them on the sore, which eventually healed.

Everyone recognized the sound of Mr. Lawrence's horn long before they heard him calling: “Fish, fresh fish today.”  The call we kids were waiting for most of all was: “Rags, bones and old iron.”  I found the skeleton of a horse, and received a whole dime for my efforts to bring it home.

The ice cream man had a bell on his two-wheeled cart and when we heard that, it meant a mad dash into the house to tease Dad for a penny for an ice cream cone. That's right, a penny for a cone.

The scissors grinder had a unique way of ringing his hand bell. Ding-ding-a-ling-ding.  He carried his foot treadle machine on his back, and he also repaired umbrellas.

Once or twice a year the gypsies would come through North Tonawanda in their covered wagons and pitch their tents along Cinder Road (now East Robinson St.).  We kids were scared to go near them because of a rumor that they could hex people or that they would kidnap us kids.

Another man I will never forget is Pete the Honey - Dipper and an incident involving him.  You might say that Pete was in the cleaning business.  Everyone had what was known as a “backhouse” and at times it was necessary to either move the house or call Pete.

Pete had bought a horse from Sweeney Hose and one day as he was coming down Cinder Road with the results of his day's labor, the fire whistle blew, prompting the horse to make a quick turn to go back to the fire house.  Pete lost his balance and fell back into his wagon.  That is all that I saw, the rest is left to your imagination.

The hum of the planing mills could be heard throughout the town, sawing and planing the lumber that had been piled in the lumber yards the year before.

In the spring, after some of the barges had been unloaded, the river could not be seen from the swinging bridge to Gratwick.  There were docks and slips all along the river's length, except for the land used by the Iron Works.

Leather aprons were a must for both the men on the docks and those working in the yard.  I don't know where the expression originated but those men who transferred the lumber from the docks to the yard were called “jackasses.”  Those men wore a leather shoulder pad.

The average pay at that time was $9 a week.  Dad danced mother around the kitchen when he was promoted to lumber inspector and received an unheard of raise of three dollars a week and all of this for only working 60 hours a week.

Those working on the docks were called “Dock Wallopers.”

The machines were all belt driven from an overhead shaft and the discarded pieces of belting were brought home to repair shoes.

Dinner buckets were a two-piece affair; the top part was an enclosed job with a tin cup acting as a stopper for the coffee in it.  Because the machines were driven by steam, the men would put this part of their dinner bucket on the steam pipes and have hot coffee for dinner.  The lower half was for bread and meat, which was more to the men's liking than dainty sandwiches.  This lower half of the dinner bucket was also used to get a nickel's worth of beer at the corner saloon.

Just beyond the mouth of Ellicott Creek a dam was erected to divert the waters into the canal which ran between North and South Niagara Streets.  A short distance west of the First Trust Co., there was a single lock to permit boats to go back into Tonawanda Creek.  The section of land between the canal, Tonawanda Creek and the Niagara River was known as Goose Island and there is not reason to doubt the weird and fantastic stories that were told about the happenings there.

Amusement: The first show I went to was with Dad, it was at the Avondale and all I remember is some slides showing flowers.  The next time was at the Eagle, at Tremont and Webster Streets, and that was about all the dogs being put into a grinding machine and made into sausages, except for one who could go through the grinding machine and come out running.  Evidently, it was funny, because all the people were laughing.

The medicine shows were a lot of fun to watch.  They were one act plays, and sometimes there were dancing girls in knee length dresses, and then the pitch for the snake oil that was guaranteed to cure every ache and ailment.  An old man or woman would hobble onto the tail gate and after one swallow of this rejuvenating elixir would put on a little jig.

The site now occupied by DeGraff Memorial Hospital was the place where the circuses pitched their big tent when they came to town.  There was always a parade, and we were excused from school, but then were made miserable by having to write a composition on what we saw.

Payne's Hill, on the north side of Wheatfield Street between Payne Ave. and Nash Road was an apple orchard, that is, until the snow came.  Then it became an educational center for what can be used to slide down a hill.  Bobsleds were homemade; the number of kids involved was determined by the length of the plank that was available.

Two or three kids could always be squeezed on a one man sleigh, barrel staves, boards and boxes or the seat of the pants was used.  I managed to get half way down on a pair of skates.  My skates hit a soft place in the ice but the momentum was so great that I made it to the bottom.

Then there was the ole swimming hole in Cramer's woods, where two square gallon cans tied together with rope served as water wings, and no swimming trunks were required.

In the spring, the banks of the canal from Bush's Bridge to East Robinson were lined with fishermen standing almost shoulder to shoulder catching bullheads.  The equipment was a cane pole and a line the length of the pole, a hook and a cork bobber.  Anyone that went fishing was so optimistic that they took a market basket along to carry their fish back home.   Some went spearing along the canal banks for carp, others would go along the many ditches and spear pickerel.

The Ford cars were referred to as “Flivers” or “Lizzies” and the poor guy that was stuck in one of the many mud holes was advised to: “Hire a horse, Mister.”

I was about 14 or 15 when I was a delivery boy for Vorpahl's Grocery Store and when I drove the horse down Zimmerman St. in the spring, the mud would be up to the axle.  At that time everyone east of Division St. was called a “Swamper” and those on the west side were “Towners”.  Before a fight, the contestants had to decide whether it was to be a stand up, sometimes called a toe-to-toe fight, or a rough and tumble.  A bloody nose or a lucky punch that made one of the kids cry ended the fight.

I remember watching men lay a brick pavement on Schenck St. and street cleaners follow the horses (with a two wheeled car, a push broom and a shovel).

The women took care of the sidewalks with their long dresses.  It must have helped some after an ordinance was passed stopping the men from spitting on the sidewalks.

We should be most thankful for the modern conveniences that we have.  Gone are the days when a woman had to be sick, dead or dying if she couldn't do the family wash on Monday.

We don't have to bundle up in winter to go outside for that last call of nature nor do we have to have that left-handed sugar bowl under the bed for emergencies.

We don't have to saw and chop wood for the kitchen stove or bring in coal for the heaters, but there was something comfy about taking off your shoes and putting your stocking feet on the nickeled ornaments on the heaters.  It seemed to bring the family closer together.  Electric poppers can't take the place of the old shaker type on a wood burning stove nor does the electric light have the romance of a flickering oil lamp.

I guess everyone in the family had stocking caps, mittens, scarves, and sweaters from her knitting.

Article: Transcribed from a collection of "Try To Remember" articles developed by the Historical Society of the Tonawandas, which appeared in the Tonawanda News from 1976 - 1978, by Melville J. Batt. This collection was provided by Melville's son, Douglas Batt.