Mohawk History Center

More from Mr. Cunningham
DOCTORS
We were most fortunate in having Dr. Joe Diss as our doctor. Dr. and Mrs. Diss lived in Ilion and had no children. Mrs. Diss took his calls and never failed to follow up on the patient’s request. This rotund fellow with a sense of humor loved his profession. He was a doctor, surgeon and delivered many babies including my three younger brothers. A house call was $2.00, and an office visit was $1.00. The doctor was extremely dedicated professional and very little seemed to phase him.
When I tumbled off my cart and cut my chin, he came to our house, hoisted me to the kitchen table and proceeded to sew up the cut. Once when Mom was ready to deliver and the woman who was supposed to help the doctor failed to show, he said to Dad, “I guess we can handle this ourselves,” and they did.
I have been in Dr. Diss’s office with my mother. He had no receptionist secretary or nurse. He generally had a cigar in his mouth and when the end that he was chewing became flat he would reach for a pair of scissors and cut it back.
When Dad was sick Dr. Diss diagnosed the illness as a ruptured ulcer. The doctor called the Ilion ambulance which in some ways resembled an antique milk truck. The driver was a policeman accompanied by a fireman. They took Dad to the Ilion Hospital where Dr. Diss operated and, without a doubt, saved our father’s life.
Glen Mosher’s grandfather had an infected big toe that had been treated without success. These were the days before sulfa drugs and antibiotics. The doctor who lived on S. Washington St. came to the Mosher home and with Mr. Mosher sitting in a rocking chair and the doctor sitting on and ottoman, the doctor proceeded to remove the old gent’s toe.
While the doctors made house calls without the expertise, facilities and medicines available today, there were times when there was very little they could do. Of course, records and formal required reports were almost non-existent.
THE DENTIST
A title that was synonymous with horror, pain, terror and fear. First you must realize that there was little or no preventive dental care. When one of us youngsters had a toothache, Mom would use all the remedies and medicines that were available in our house. Beyond that and when the jaw started swelling, the patient could continue to suffer or go to a Dentist. What a choice.
When I had a real painful toothache and Mom had exhausted all of her remedies, it was decided that I would meet Dad at the Re*****on Arms 9Arch gate on Otsego St.”. We would go to Winslow’s Saloon on Union St. for lunch. Dad would order a beer and eat the sandwiches he brought from him. There was soup and free food at the end of the bar but with an aching tooth I could only look.
After Dad finished his meal we went to the dentist, who had his office on the second floor over Powers Newsroom. I can’t recall anyone making an appointment. I just got into his chair and the dentist probed around with a tool that resembled a nut pick. He just said, “It has to come out.” There were no options. The next thing that I remember was the dentist come at me with a needle that resemble the tines of pitch for.
About 10 minutes later the dentist filled my mouth with a asset of piers (called forceps) and after some pulling yanking and bleeding the tooth was removed. The cost was $1.50. Dad gave me a nickel to ride the bus back to Mohawk, but I would walk to Mohawk spitting blood all the way! When I got to Mohawk I would go to Tom the Greek’s for an ice cream cone.
Toms was a confectionary store with wire-back chairs and round marble tables. It was in the old Cunningham block at the corner of W. Main and N. Otsego Streets.

DEATH
Death was a common occurrence during my youth and was discussed openly with children. Consequently, we were involved in wakes and funerals. Unlike the children of today who are reluctant to become involved or don’t want to go near the deceased in a funeral home, we seemed to be close to our friends, family or neighbors.
Within a short time of learning of the death of someone we knew our family was ready to help. One neighbor would take up a collection for Mass cards or flowers while the other would begin baking beans, bread and various meats. When Mom died, the first person to arrive was the insurance man.
People were much closer and depended on one another so consequently they felt the loss to a much greater degree. There was very little immunization and other than a school nurse most of the care was in the hands of our parents. Many of our schoolmates left us prematurely.
When a person died, the “undertaker” was called. He hung a black wreath on the front door and proceeded to help the family make the arrangements. He could prepare the deceased at his establishment or at the family home. At the time most funerals were held at the descendant’s house.
The calling hours at the family home could start as early as 8 in the morning and last as long as there was someone to answer the door. At Irish wakes, the family and friends stayed up all night and about midnight they had a huge meal. Then, of course, during quiet periods a bit of a drink was passed around. And there were some stories and plenty of reminiscing.
An acquaintance told me of the death of a small child in his family before the advent of burial laws. The mother and women members of the family cleaned and dressed the child while the father and some friends built a coffin and dug a grave near their orchard. After the local clergyman said a few words, the father placed a homemade casket on his shoulder and, together with family, friends and neighbors, moved off to the cemetery. The families in rural areas formed their own cemeteries and there are still old monuments that can be seen in out of the way places. My great-grandfather was buried along Cole Hill Road.
In the late 1920’s a relative who had a farm was taken ill. This happened in the winter when you drove a horse and cutter or you walked. There was no telephone at the house and as his condition worsened the family knew that he needed a doctor. His wife could do nothing but send the two oldest boys on foot to the nearest relative who had a phone and ask them to try to get a doctor. With the snow blowing, the mother was afraid that the youngsters might become separated and lost so she tied them together before sending them out for help. The boys managed to get to the house of a relative and the doctor was called, but they lost their dad.
I remember attending the funeral with Mom and Dad. Many of the neighbors shoveled and plowed the road the night before the funeral so that the family could take the body from the house to the church.
At one of the farms on Vickerman Hill there was a death in the family and the drifts made the road impassible. Neighbors hitched a team of horse to a pair of bobs and with some men cutting fences and driving around drifts and across lots, they finally arrived at Mohawk and the residence of the local undertaker.
According to a news item, when a funeral home serving a rural area received a call requesting their services, they would load two caskets (to allow for choice) on their wagon. If the deceased was a farmer the neighbors would do the chores and care for the livestock until the funeral was over.

Reminiscence Continued:
GROCERY STORES
Besides the various grocery stores in downtown Mohawk which included the A&P, Market Basket, Co-Op, H. Myers Market and Lee Branch’s Grocery and Cheese Stoe, there were small family stores throughout the residential community. George Bacon’s Grocery on E. Center St. served the South and East areas of the village. George would deliver on request. A few doors down the street at the corner of Walnut and W. Center St. Jack Chambers operated a fish market.
Frank Minosh had a small grocery, wholesale vegetable route and coalyard next to the Spinner Homestead. Al Marmet delivered cuts of meat to the rural area.
Just west of the Fulmer Creek Bridge on Main St. nest to the trolley barn (now Holt Auto Sales) was a small grocery. It was rumored that the owner also used the store as a house of ill repute. When the ladies of the evening were in residence, he would hang a sign on his porch reading “Horse for Sale”. This would let the young blades know where the action was. No one ever indicated how many horses changed hands.
The meat market was operated by a kindly fellow who was hardworking and serious. His store was located on Main St. near the Weller Block and Post Office. The gentleman was a practicing Catholic and always sat in the last pew of the old Blessed Sacrament Church.
When Father Brennock (1942-1960) came into church on Sunday morning he would always rub Tony’s bald head for good luck.
Tony was a daily breakfast customer at “Arthur & Lakes” Restaurant and Butch Arthur derived great pleasure in tormenting Tony. Some of the tricks would be setting the strings of Tony’s apron on fire, frying a condom in his eggs or putting a sign “Butter 35c/Lb.” in the front window of his store. Actually butter was in short supply and sold at a premium.
The crowning act happened one day when Tony had finished cleaning his meat display cabinet. Leaving his bucket of bloody cleanings on the floor he began moving articles in the walk-in cooler. When he came back into the store, he found that some one had duped the whole bloody mess all over the shop. When he had pretty well cleaned up the place a second time, he saw someone go by his side window.
Thinking that it was Butch Arthur and his buddies who had caused him to clean the market a second time, Tony got behind the back door and when this fellow entered the doorway, Tony let him have it with a pail full of bloody water.
But now Tony had a larger problem. The recipient of his anger happened to be a 6-foot+ employee of the slaughterhouse delivering half a carcass of beef to the meat market. Once the young man shook some of the debris from his face Tony could see that no explanation was going to be sufficient, and he headed for the door with well-soaked delivery man in close pursuit.
Once they had circled the block a couple of times with Tony tiring, he decided to try for diplomacy, so he dived through the back door of the post office with the young man close on his heels
With a couple of the postal employees delaying the delivery man, Tony visibly shaken and pooped from running) explained the mishap and apologized. Everything must have been resolved, for Tony was back in business the next day.
When we wore knickers and long underwear, it was a real problem to keep your stockings from looking like a rutted road in April. We were always happy when we could discard the long Johns at the end of the winter.
Characters were in abundance and men with various backgrounds plied their trade. There were numerous carpenters, masons, painters, paper hangers and bartenders with all various degrees of excellence. Smokey was a swamper. He emptied spittoons, swept the bar floor and slept in the cellar. If you left an unfinished drink on the bar or a cigarette on and ash tray, Smokey would finish it for you.
SCHOOL
My first exposure to education was the day that my father took me to the old Columbia Street Elementary School. It was located where the village offices are now situated. This was a three-story building of stone and brick that housed grades from one 10 six. There was no kindergarten or Pre-kindergarten. In fact, there was not even a playground.
We were called to classes each morning and noon by a large bell located at the very top of the building. If the janitor, whose job it was to ring the bell, saw a student who might be late for class he would continue to ring the bell until the youngster was in the classroom. If any student was late for class during the week the entire class had to stay after school on Friday afternoon. Needless to say, the tardy student was about as popular as a dog in church.
The floors of the school were soaked with oil and the lighting left much to be desired. About 10:30 each morning we were taken to the restrooms (I use the word loosely) en masse. The boys would sit on the stairs going down to the basement to wait our turn. The odor of the “facility” next to the boiler was unmistakable. Any requests to use the facilities at any other time was considered a felony.
During the winter when we returned from the comfort station we were made to march around the large hall to the accompaniment of an ancient Victrola. This was undoubtedly the required exercise for the day.
Students from rural areas that did not attend “one room schoolhouses” could come to our school. There were no buses and without a cafeteria the students ate their lunch in the auditorium. Many of the older boys quit school when they were sixteen. A picture of the graduation class had very few graduates, mostly girls.
Discipline was a few degrees below the military and oversized rulers were not prohibited. One sixth grade student, who must have upset his teacher, lost his shirt in its entirety. Needless to say, the teacher replaced his shirt. This same teacher was known to sail a blackboard eraser or inkwell across the room at anyone who might have provoked her.
We could buy used schoolbooks second hand from the classes ahead of us (providing we could come up with the cash). On Saturday mornings before football game I would borrow a couple dollars from the school principal, I could buy candy bars three for a dime at the A&P and sell them at the game for a nickel apiece. After the game I would take the two dollars back to Harry Fisher.
On some Saturdays we would canvass the neighborhood for papers, metal or junk of any kind. If we found a battery, we were in seventh heaven. We would take our b***y to Mr. Williams the junk man on Green St. for enough money to go to the Liberty Theatre in Herkimer.
Later in the 1940’s this older Jewish man would canvas the village in truck looking for junk. When I was a teller in the bank, he would occasionally buy a $5.00 money order payable to “Boy’s Town”. I asked Sam why he was supporting a Catholic institution instead of a Jewish charity and he said, “Gene, ‘Boys town ’always says “Thank You’.