Main Street – April 8, 1948

By Morris Rote-Rosen

Snap shots on Good Friday afternoon ... When a stillness hangs over the village and business places are closed ... Window signs reading: "Closed from noon until 3 o'clock" ... A cloudless, blue sky, overhead and a strong south wind blowing ... Whipping and snapping the large post office flag to ripple the stripes like so many rivulets ... Automobiles at a standstill ... And only few pedestrians on the sidewalk ... Many going to church services ... While children enjoy their first spring roller skating.

Three men, lazily leaning against the corner of a building, conversing in whispers ... Boys, looking over the bridge watching the rushing waters of the Mettowee ... The pool room and bowling alley deserted ... A stout man, wearing a tin helmet, a railroad bridge worker, walking slowly, puffing on his pipe ... Bonnie Evans and Mary McGinley exchanging the latest news on the bank corner ... Helen Kostyun sweeping a rug desperately, outside the Wilson store, to get under the wire before closing time ... And she is raising quite a cloud of dust.

Big Joe Paro, electric light company lineman, in heavy black and white checkered shirt, wearing rubbers, crosses the village square, looks up and down, lowers his head and is lost on Church street ... Boys having a tricycle race followed by as many dogs ... Rev. Ira M. Stanton rushes by in his automobile on his way to the united services at Trinity church, waves from his car ... "Middle Granville?" asks a hitch-hiker as he drops his thumb when he is picked up and given a ride home ... Eddie Keelan, hands in pocket, head up, takes a little time off from a busy job, exchanging a few words with Marty Brodie and is gone out of sight.

Ben Getty, Granville's nonagenarian, is stopped by a man who wants to explain something. Ben nods his head several times and the other man is convinced that Ben agrees with him and the two part company ... G.H.S. boys sporting their new spring Gold and Blue jackets ... A shout is heard from across the street: "Hey, Windy, come here!" ... Lawrence Hayes in his white restaurant jacket, standing on the curb, talking to Chief of Police Richard Stanton ... Milton Williams and his daughter Muriel turn the corner for Trinity church.

A car stops and half a dozen or more youngsters pile out of the back seat and are disappointed at the locked door of an ice cream parlor ... Ada Potter looking as lovely as the spring day, wearing her new Easter bonnet ... Rena Paul and Flora Bascom, arm in arm, in a friendly chat ... The cattle of the drag chain of the Texaco truck on the street pavement ... Gathering dark clouds obscure the sun, the wind quiets down and a stillness like a pall hangs over the village as Good Friday services are about to commence.

Two ladies are inquisitively peeking into a store show windows, craning their necks to admire the spring styles, without saying a word ... Arch Drake comes of the "Hill," cigarette hanging limply out of the corner of his mouth and shouts "Hi," ... A truck heavy laden with huge logs rumbles down Church street to the "Telescope" mill ... Ted MacConnell gripping a bag, and a valuable one at that ... The Shell station, busier than a beehive ... John Brayton, in his spring outfit, unrecognized in a new suit, hat and top coat ... And not a paint spot on him.

The post office, as quiet as on a Sunday, and only one on the job - Bill Roberts ... The Easter lilies in the Ray Brown studio window attracting attention ... The skating rink is no longer that, just a dried up mud batch ... The bridge construction gang riveting under the inspection and curiosity of a group of boys ... Some standing gaping at the ease with which a difficult job is performed ... The American Bridge company is replacing the old 1892 bridge with a better, stronger and more modern one in 1948.

In our stroll around we pay a visit to the depot "gang" - Richard G. Hughes, Eddie Evans and Jack Jones ... The three too busy to visit with any one ... Richard Hughes, making out freight bills like he has for nearly 50 years and his handwriting hasn't changed one bit ... We would recognize his signature anywhere ... Jack Jones busy at the telegraph key, turning dots and dashes into something legible ... When asked why they are working on Good Friday afternoon, Eddie Evans remarks: "We don't get manna from heaven, we have to work for it."

Lake St. Catherine on Good Friday afternoon (March 26) is still wearing its heavy winter mantle of ice ... Only few signs of breaking up ... Narrow water channels separate the ice from the shore ... The ice is taking on a bluish tinge ... A sign that it is weakening ... Roads are soft and rutty from the thawing frost underneath ... Early spring birds still noticeable by their absence ... And small patches of snow visible on the mountain tops ... Although the fields and valleys have entirely cleared up ... Spring is here!

From Gerald A. Brown, midshipman in the United States Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md., comes a pleasant letter, with the following closing lines: "Before I close, I must give you my very best congratulations on 'Main Street'. I read it every week, and it never fails to give me a perfect picture of our home town, as seen through your eyes and the eyes of everyone to whom Granville is home." ... Jerry Brown is a grandson of Mrs. R. E. Brown and he is the first Granville native to receive an appointment to the Naval Academy - and not a political one at that. Jerry got it the hard way. Good luck and smooth sailing, Jerry!

Harry Berryman, Dick (Cowboy) Davies and Vic Mancini discussing the shortage of blacksmiths, harness makers and shoe repairers. There is no blacksmith shop or harness maker in Granville and Vic Mancini is the last of the shoe repairers. "The American boys won't learn the trade," says Vic, "and I don't blame them. There is nothing in it. We have no more immigrants coming from Italy, among whom were many shoe makers." Then pointing to the clock on the wall, Vic said: "Too many long hours in this job." It was 8 o'clock at night.

After living in California for more than 30 years, Cortland Williamson returned to Granville where he spent the past winter. He hasn't thawed out yet. Looking up and down the Main street, he pointed to sites of old buildings no longer there and talked of business men of another generation. "But," said "Cort", "The Main street, at that, looks better than it ever did before in the old days. The old wooden buildings are gone and in their places are new and more modern business blocks." Then pointing to the Beecher and Guthrie corner, he said: "I lived in the old Bert Goldberg block before I left for California and that's gone too."