By Phoebe Harris
After fourteen years in Florida, I've visited Lockport twice. I saw many changes and I began to reminisce.
To me, Lockport means being born in a cottage. While waiting for my arrival, my father, C. J. Jellings and Dr. S. W. Hurd counted the blossoms in the morning glory vines outside.
Lockport means sunsets over Dudley Square, and a long flight of stairs down to the railroad tracks where we placed crossed pins on the tracks, for the train to make into scissors.
Lockport means the fire bell that rang to call the volunteer firemen; for my grandfather was one of them.
Lockport means walking on a wobbly wooden bridge that carried the trains over Spring Street hill, before the present viaduct replaced it.
Lockport means the old locks, five on each side, for my father was a lock tender when they were hand operated.
Lockport means the old Walnut Street School and planting a tree each Arbor Day under the direction of Miss Mary Hickey, Principal. And
the old Union School and the old High School, with games played on Dudley Square and Lake Avenue Park.
Lockport means going to the woods in springtime, Old Home Week and parades, the Beaderwolfe evangelistic meetings at Pine and Walnut Streets.
Lockport means my home and parents, many relatives and friends, my husband and family and good neighbors wherever we lived. It meant good schools and good homes, dependable businesses and banks. It has grown from plank sidewalks to concrete ones; from trolleys to buses, from hacks to taxis, from gas or carbon street lights to electric; from milk delivered in horse and wagon and dipped from a bucket to the housewife's container, to bottled milk, pasteurized and homogenized.
Lockport has grown from trains bearing political figures who spoke at the Old Hodge Opera House, to a (US) Vice Presidential Candidate in our town. There was the old Baptist Church at Pine and South Street and now the new one at Pine and Genesee.
There are many stores missing on Main Street, familiar names gone forever. May Lockport continue to grow, seeking what is best for her people, guarding her wonderful heritage and uniting all in keeping her the best town ever.
About
The Author
Phoebe Harris was a member and financial secretary of the First Baptist Church in
Lockport. Every Sunday she and her husband William Harris would count the offering and
deposit it in the bank. It seemed like she had that job forever.
Phoebe & William had a son Richard and daughter Dorothy. Richard was the president of his senior class at Lockport High School. During the spring of his senior year he became ill. His mother was also ill and he didn't want to burden her with his problem. His appendix burst and medications were not available in 1937 to help so he passed away. Phoebe starting teaching a boy's high school age Sunday School class to help fill the void in her life and to help the boys. She became known as "Ma" Harris.
Phoebe & William spent their later years in Florida. After a visit to her home town of Lockport, Phoebe wrote the above memories in December 1981. She also authored a book of poetry. ---John Hall
My first memory of Lockport was living on Michigan St one house away from Hayes Park. What
an ideal place to grow up, next to a kiddee amusement park, walking to outwater park for a
dip in the kiddee pool (the only pool there), picnics, swimming, fire works, and lots of
fun. I am one of five children (one brother, and 3 sisters) and our neighbors were the
Hufnagles (five children) and the Curries (8 children), so you see we were not at a lost
for playmates. We had great times playing baseball in the summer and tobogganing down
Michigan St hill and landing in Grout's front yard. Ice skating in the winter and picnics
in the summer was a common practice in our family. Trips to Niagara Falls and Devils Hole
made a great Sunday outing to remember.
We soon moved to Church St to a much larger home and bigger neighborhood. We didn't change
schools because there were only 2 schools to go to. I went from kindergarten to ninth
grade at North Park School and on to Lockport Senior High School where I graduated. My two
girls (now adults) went to many different schools in many different states and countries
(such as Adak, Alaska, Keflavik, Iceland, and Bermuda) so they feel they haven't been able
to establish their "ROOTS". I speak to them about Lockport all the time and how
things were so safe for us when we were growing up.
During our visits home and a short time living in Lockport (while waiting for orders to
another country) they had the pleasure of enjoying Reids Red/White Hots, DeFlippo
spaghetti, Wagner's Beef on Wick, Wide-waters, and Bye's popcorn just to name a few.
Unfortunately, some of my childhood hangouts are gone such as our house on Michigan St and
Hayes Park are torn down, the Grouts and Curries no longer live there, and the old
neighborhood just doesn't look the same. I will always miss the trees in Oct, the country
roads, the snow in Jan, Main St during Christmas, and that cool summer breeze off the
lake.
I grew up very happy and safe. Even though my parents have both "passed on"
there are still relatives living in Lockport and will visit as often as I am able. I'll
always have my memories and will keep in touch with a few friends to hash over old times.
Lockport is an important time in my life and it's where my "ROOTS" are.
Karen E. Godin (Whitehead)
Milton, FL
February 2003
Memories Of Lunch Hour At Old Lockport High
When I was in High School on East Avenue, and we had an
hour to kill for lunch, we would go to the Royal. The propieter would let us eat our bag
lunch there if we would buy a drink. The wonderful part was, we could get any flavored
Coke we wanted. Just squirt in cherry, or vanilla, or lemon, or what-ever.
For 25 cents we could get 5 songs off the juke box.
The strange part is, even though we were in high school, we would play
'hide-n-seek'. Some of the boys would take off and hide anywhere on Main Street, even down
by the canal. The remainder of the group would go out looking for them. All of this had to
be done in time to get back to afternoon classes at Lockport High
F. H. Berent
7-18-02
By Joe Budde
I think it was the winter of 1965 when the big sister/little brother
barrier between Barbara and I began to fade. Our mother would go out on Saturday nights,
and we would have the house to ourselves. She was a Timi Yuro fan, but on Saturday nights,
I would play my records. Some of her girl friends would come over early and get ready to
go out for the night. When they were
waiting their turn at the mirror, they would come into my room and hang out with me. I was
probably 14, they were 2 years older. I would show them my guitar and posters, they would
teach me how to dance and how to act around girls. At school, the girls had no time for
me, but now it didn't matter. They used to say, "your brother is really cool". I
was excited by the sting
in my eyes from all the Aqua-net, English leather, and cigarette smoke that hung in the
air.
In England, the Mods and rockers fought, but in Lockport, we were on the same side. Most
of the boys at Belknap were "squeaks"; they dressed like their fathers with wing
tip shoes. I don't remember what I wore to school, but on the weekend, I wore Beatle boots
and iridescent blades. One of my sister's friends once told me about the Road Vultures and
the Towpath Riders. The Vultures had planned on "crucifying" their leader Little
Jesus one summer by tying him to the front of a motorcycle and parading through Main
Street, but The police, sheriff and state police intervened (there was always great
controversy about what he was suppose to be wearing). Sometime later, a Towpath Rider
named Junior spoke to one of the jocks at my school that had been bullying me for 3 years.
After that, the jocks treated me fine, although I never met Junior.
I wore a sweatshirt that I cut into a vest like Sonny & Cher, turned inside out. I
used to run into Barbara at places like the Disc-o-teen or the Den, where we used to see
the Humans play. Her friends would always say hi to me and sometimes even get me a ride
home. There was never any drugs or alcohol at those clubs, but the city fathers always
shut them down. No one actually danced back then, we just stood right in front of the band
staring at them the whole night, smoking cigarettes. After the clubs closed for the night,
everyone went to Laports or the other diners for home fries and a cup of tea, like they
drank in England. Then it was the long trek home, usually walking in the street because
there was so much snow, and we couldn't hop cars wearing Beatle-boots. But we were still
too young and pure to pass out and freeze to death.
My sister's crowd soon started going to places likes Birardi's, the Anchor in Olcott, and
the bowling alley in Albion to see bands. One night, my friend Leon and I hitch hiked to
Albion. He claimed to know someone who could get us in, but instead we spent 4 hours
freezing in the parking lot before someone finally gave us a ride home.
6-20-02
New York City
I was born in September of 1953 at the Lockport Hospital. It has been over 30 years since I was in Lockport. I was just browsing with my computer and came across the Home Page of Lockport. Oh how wonderful and yet painful it is to look at the different photo’s and remember being there and what I did as a child!
I lived on Crosby Avenue. I remember when Bill DeCessarie was married. My
mother, grandmother and I went to the wedding in the morning. After the wedding ceremony,
I remember my sister Harriette and I walking down West Avenue to the Palace Theater were I
saw Pinocchio for the first time. I remember my sister and a bunch of the neighborhood
kids and I all going to Outwater Park and walking along the cemetery, and down an
embankment. There was an old shack there and the kids tried to scare me by telling me the
shack was haunted.
I also remember on Friday nights sometimes my mother would take us to a place called Redman’s.
This was a place where one section was a bar and the other was a restaurant where my
family would go to eat dinner sometimes. I remember standing in the doorway and watching
the adults in the bar.
I remember Modern Dry Cleaners. That is where my mother worked for many years. I
remember going to work with her on Saturday and watching the (to a little girl) big
washing machine’s go round and round. I was also very afraid of the mangler but at
the same time was fascinated by the machine.
I remember the canal’s. This too I was both fascinated by and feared at the same
time. I miss watching the locks open and close to let the ships through.
My memory of school was going to Charlotte Cross. I was on the first floor, and because my
sister was four grades ahead of me so she was on the second floor of the school. I loved
that school and I miss it.
Now, though I am thousands of miles away, I miss the snow in the winter. Even though I got
sick and was in the hospital every winter, I miss the snowball fights and the fort
building and the ice skating in a neighbor’s yard. I am stuck in the desert. It is
brown, and no real trees, just cactus.
I will always be an eastern girl. Never a desert rat ! When I look at pictures I go back
to my childhood and remember the little amusement park by Outwater Park. In my mind’s
eye, I see an old stack that advertised flour. I also walk over to my Aunt Minnie’s
house and cross the railroad tracks with my cousin Steve. Just thinking of Lockport makes
me more determined to go back one day and show my husband, daughter, and grandson where I
grew up and where my heart will always be.
Judy Olson - Metzger
5-30-02
It was so interesting for a Kansas girl to live in Lockport, NY. My
husband, Nick Woods, and I moved back from France in 1963. We rented an apartment from Mr.
Vince Marotta. It was a large old home located next to Emmanuel Methodist Church.
Our trunk didn't arrive from France for quite some time, so we had to set up
"housekeeping" all over again! Nick's parents had friends who had given us a
wedding shower in 1960, so we had those lovely new gifts to help us begin again. We bought
a new bed and baby bed from Mr. Anstead. Those were two pieces of quality furniture which
we appreciated. (I was sad to see Mr. Anstead had died. He was a fine person.)
Nick worked as a Lab Tech at LMH. He walked to and from work. His folks were Elgie and
Helen (Cossaboon) Woods.
We really enjoyed walking over to visit with them in their apartment. One was on Market
Street over a Harley-Davidson Motorcycle shop. It was next to the Screwball Club. Elgie
was a member of the club. Across the street and down a way was an indoors Farmer's Market.
We shopped there too.
Nick and I saw movies at the Palace
Theatre. We took our little son, Thomas Mark, into the shoe store-which had the live
parrot-to buy his shoes. Gosh! The parrot was very old by that time! We went down to the
Royal and bought our ice cream. What a disappointment to find out our little one didn't
really like ice cream! We did!! It tasted so delicious. There were, also, Beef on Wick
sandwiches which were made to perfection in Lockport. (I remember we went into a
restaurant just off an alley parallelling the main street and sat at tiny tables. Does
anyone remember the name of this restaurant?)
Nick and I were members of Emmanuel Methodist Church. We sang in the choir with Milly Fox
and her husband and many other fine friends. The Choir Director there contacted noted
soloists from Buffalo to come help us sing the Messiah one year. Theat was a wonderful
experience.
The organist for Emmanuel was from near Newfane. He was a quiet man, but WOW! he paid fine
tribute to great organ composers with his musical skill. I believe his name was Ed
Searles.
Nick and I would take long walks around town and down to Outwater Park. When the trees
were in bloom their blossoms covered the green grass with waves of color.
I had to take my New York Driver's test around Lockport. Driving across that "Big
Bridge" and keeping in the correct lane was a trip. I was glad I had walked through
that area before I took the test!
Yes, we were there when the "Renewal" bulldozed out all the huge old shade trees
and then the historic old homes along the street catty-corner from Emmanuel. What a crying
shame it was. The temperature around the whole area rose by several degrees because all
that shade and grass were removed and a grocery, a parking lot, and uglyness moved in.
If anyone has any history about the Thomas and Mary Spencer Woods family please e-mail us.
We would be thrilled to hear from you. enwoods@osprey.net
Elizabeth Woods
Lebo Kansas.
9-3-01
By George Welch
I Remember Lockport when..
The stuffed birds and animals in the cases along the walls on the top floor of the high school
When mail was delivered twice a day, without junk mail -just personal letters and, of course, bills-,
When stamps cost two cents.
The winter of 1937, when the snow was 5 foot deep on the level
When homogenized milk was unheard of, when the Wiley milk trucks delivered the old fashioned milk to the door in quart glass bottles, how it would freeze in the winter causing an extrusion of frozen cream to force the cardboard off the top
When we kept our food cold with ice which was delivered right into the icebox. When we specified the amount we wanted, with a diamond shaped card in the front window for twenty-five, fifty, seventy-five, or one hundred pounds.
When Olcott Beach was the center of teenage social life - and riding there in the rumble seat of a 1927 model "A"
When a good house could be purchased in Lockport for less than $3000, and a whole farm for not much more
Roller skating on Willow St. after the city had repaved it with smooth asphalt, when we could skate in the street all evening without having to move over for more than two or three cars.
Building and flying balsa model airplanes powered by rubber bands, the orange glue called Ambroid we used to fasten the balsa sticks together, the satisfaction when one we built actually flew across the room.
The time when it was cause for great excitement if a real airplane was sighted in the distant sky
When we had no television, but enjoyed our growing up years more than the kids seem to today
How dirty we got from picking cherries for two cents a pound
When it didn't occur to us to lock our doors at night
When we considered ourselves lucky to get thirty-five cents for mowing a large lawn with a hand lawn mower
The noise coal made when it rattled from the coal truck down a metal chute through the cellar window into the coal bin
Double features at the Rialto and Palace theaters
Listening to football games, famous bands playing from the Avalon Casino on Catalina Island
When gasoline pumps had a glass reservoir on top, when it was sometimes necessary to wake up the gas station attendant when we needed gasoline, and when the gasoline gauge was a wooden stick
My father, Walter Welch, brought our family from Atlanta, Georgia, in 1924 in a Model "T." An automobile trip for that distance involved coping with the danger of what were called "split rims," fixing ( not replacing) the inevitable flat tire which occurred every few hundred miles, hunting for gas stations, backing up steep hills so that the gravity fed gas would get to the carburetor, putting the curtains up when it rained, looking for landmarks which would tell us where to turn, being pulled out of mud holes by teams of horses. It was almost as full of adventure as climbing Mt. Everest would be today. I believe that we carried most of our worldly possessions on the running boards, held in place by collapsible fences clamped onto the running boards.
We drove from Atlanta to Jefferson, Ohio to my grandmother's - then from Jefferson to Lockport, where my Dad had obtained a job.
Our first home was a little rented house at the corner of Morrow and Beattie Avenues. After two years, our parents bought a new house at 104 Morrow Ave. for $8,900. After 1929 It was worth less than half that much. The view from my bedroom window toward the southeast revealed only open fields. Lockport didn't extend any further in those days. Our only wilderness experience was exploring a wooded patch about a mile away. The edge of the woods were fringed with wild raspberry and black berry bushes; I believe the interior had some first growth trees.
We lost our house during the depression after Dad had been laid off from his job as the bookkeeper for the Federal Mill and Elevator Company.
My brother, Hank, much more athletic than I, was the quarterback on the high school football team. He went to work at Harrison's after being graduated from Lockport High in 1932 - later transferred to Detroit where he did very well working for General Motors. I was graduated from Buffalo State Teacher's College and became a high school teacher in Corfu Central until the war, when I became a buck private in the Army Engineers. I finished my thirty - two years of high school teaching in Kearny High School in San Diego. My late sister Gene married George Croft and spent the rest of her life with him on their farm. She died in 1977.
I met my wife, Harriet Shaver, while she worked as a nursery supervisor at Wyndham Lawn Home. We will celebrated our fifty - eight year of marriage in September (1999).
The names of some of the kids that I grew up with in Lockport come back to me; others I remember very well but cannot recall their names. If anyone remembers the Welches, I would enjoy hearing from him/her.
Lockport was a great place to grow up. I love living in California, but I have never lost my fond remembrance of the Lockport I knew, and the friends I remember there.
Lockport was a great place to grow up. I love living
in California; but I have never lost my fond
remembrance of the Lockport I knew, and the friends I remember there.
Feel free to write me at: 1955 Howard Ave. #20, Escondido, CA 92029
By George Welch
I grew up in Lockport during the 1920's & 1930's. Even though more than sixty years have passed since I left L.H.S. and Lockport with a roll of paper signed by Edmund M. Evans, it seems as though half my life was spent there. Although I have seen much of the world, and lived in many different places, my most vivid memories are of the happy boyhood days in Lockport. I wonder if there could be any of my contemporaries still alive who remember some of these things:
Lockport was a great place to grow up. I love living in California; but I have never lost my fond remembrance of the Lockport I knew, and the friends I remember there. Feel free to write me at: 1955 Howard Ave. #20, Escondido, CA 92029
Quite by chance, a displaced Lockportian like me told me of
this web-site. I too feel sad when I see the great old buildings that once graced
Main Street and see the gaping holes left behind. Can't even sing that old Joni
Mitchell song..."paved paradise, put up a parking lot." Put up a grassy
lot. Time marches on.
I am 35 years old, so my memories may not be as vivid as those of
my parents, but I have a few:
Carnahan's clothing store, and a kind
woman named Doris (I think). Kids clothes were upstairs. The best fit I have
ever had on a suit or sport coat is still from Charlie Gray at Lerch and Daly's.
Chet's. My wife, a native Ohioan, has
to go to Chet's whenever we visit. My grandmother, Peggy Cavagnaro, was Chet's first
waitress and Ruth Secrist sends my family here in Ohio a Christmas card every year.
The Boot Shop and Perry's Shoe Store.
The Canoe Club Classic.
Rotondo's Grocery at the corner of High and Saxton Streets. The
store was at the end of my paper route and made a great pit stop after lugging papers up
High Street Hill. I stocked shelves for former Mayor Tom Rotondo for a couple of
years while in high school.
Reid's. Two Reds with sauce, fries and a drink. Thank
heavens no one had the notion to do away with this one.
Foodland on West Avenue; Thiele's Dairy and Bakery too.
Chuck Kenney's. Sure, the correct name was Niagara Sporting
Goods, but when it was time for football spikes, my father took me to Chuck
Kenney's. "These sell for $24.99, but because I know your dad, I will sell them
to you for $20.00." Maybe it was Nashe that always said that...
Pontillo's Pizza, on Walnut Street just east of Washburn. My aunt
ordered so many pizzas from them that she didn't have to identify herself - they knew her
voice instantly.
As I sit in semi-winter in Southwestern Ohio, I would love to have a place to ice skate. It's never cold enough consistently to have an outdoor rink and an indoor rink like the Kenan Center would be great. Of course, everyone in Lockport would like that too...
John Koplas, English teacher non-pareil at LSHS. No professor I had at college could carry his book bag. At the other end of the educational spectrum, Betty Bates at Charlotte Cross. Better educational bookends you'll never find.
The Friar and Thief "restaurant".
I love Ohio and my life here, but it is with pride I say I grew up in Lockport. I look forward to reading more reminiscences. Thank you very much for these "Postcards from the Past".
Tom Fiegl, Jr. fiegls@voyager.net
1/22/00
By Charles R. Quagliano
Just like almost everyone born after WWII, I remember exactly where I was the day President Kennedy was shot.
I was 13 years. old and had a large paper route for the Union Sun & Journal that included Vine St., E.Union St., Adam St., Chestnut St., Chapel St. and Spring St. On an ordinary day, I picked up my papers at around 3:30 pm, after I got out of St. John’s Parochial School on Chestnut Street. I was usually done by 5:00 – 5:30 pm.
On the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated, the presses at the paper were held up while the AP waited for news from Texas as to whether he was still alive or not. Some time after 1:00 pm it was sent over the AP and broadcast on television that he had in fact died. We were dismissed from school early because the nuns took the news especially hard. You may remember, as they did, that President Kennedy was the first Roman Catholic to ever be elected President.
I checked my pick-up box at 2:00 pm, but there were no papers yet. I checked again at 3:00, 4:00 and 5:00 pm and still no papers. When I finally got them at 5:15 pm, it was already starting to get dark due to the late Fall season.
Every customer, of course, was waiting impatiently to get the paper that day; to read about the assassination. Almost every single one of my customers was waiting on their porch for me and they all seemed to assume that I had taken that particular day to lollygag, causing their paper to be so late. I received approximately 90 butt-chewings. I wanted to explain, but had to tell my story walking, as the rest of my customers were still waiting.
I never finished my route that day until almost 8:00 p.m.
I was 10 years. old in 1961, the first year I played Little League ball at Ray Lee Stadium on Lincoln Avenue. For those old enough to remember, the original field did not look anything like it does today (according to my memory). There were real dugouts then. Actually below the ground and enclosed on all but one side, the side that faced the field.
The grass section of the field was matriculously kept and the dirt tract that led around the bases was as fine as sand, with a real chalk marker down the middle and real canvas-covered bases.
The uniforms were modeled after the Major League uniforms of the day, with regulation baseball type stockings, knee length trousers, matching tops and baseball caps. The "umps" had regulation uniforms, chest protectors, face masks and caps, and of course, final say on all plays, balls and strikes.
Best of all, the fence at Ray Lee was lined with signs that were ads for local businesses, and if you managed to hit one of the signs, you got something from that business for free. If you hit the Lerch & Daly or the Carnahan Swanson sign, you might get a free shirt. The Ellicott Shoes Store sign might get you a new pair of Florshiems. The one I always aimed for (but never hit) was the Reid’s Hot Dog sign. If you hit that one, everybody on the team got a free shake.
---Charles R. Quagliano, 93 Carolina Avenue, Lockport, NY
First let me say how much I appreciate and enjoy the scanned photos of Lockport in the 40's and 50's. My
family didn't move to Lockport until 1955, but I don't think much changed during those two
decades.
I have many very fond personal memories of the Union-Sun & Journal when it
was still on Main Street. My Dad, the late and wonderful Elting H. Wells, came to the
paper in '54 from the Canandaigua, NY, weekly where he was an editor of some level. If I
recall correctly, his first position at the US&J was as the farm reporter. I suspect
this was based on his having grown up in Batavia and married a farm girl. Over the years
until his passing in 1982, Dad worked his way up through at least two changes of corporate
ownership to the seat of Managing Editor.
My memories of the old Main Street address come from the many times I would walk downtown
from either Emmett Belknap or LSHS to catch a ride home (usually after spending some time
either at the library, Castle's, the YMCA, or window shopping at Noah's Ark). Dad's desk
was on the 2nd floor, near the back of the newsroom. The room was open, with several desks
for reporters and editors arranged to face Main Street. Each large wooden desk also had a
Royal or Underwood manual typewriter. The floors were noisy, dark, bare wood, heavily
oiled, that by today's standards would be a horrendous "tinderbox" fire hazard.
I remember a formal office at the front of the building that was for the owner/publisher,
Mr.Corson, or someone of similar station. Several other pictures float through my mind...
Heavy, bulky, black dial telephones and the fact that a call out had to be initiated by
first asking the company switchboard operator for an outside line; the teletype machines
that connected to AP and UPI and produced both hardcopy printouts and punched tape that
could be fed into the linotype machines; the noisy, bare wooden floors; the pervasive
smell of cigarette and pipe smoke; the smell of vats of melting lead ingots at each of the
linotype machines in the big "composing room" behind the newsroom; people who
were wonderful, supportive friends to my Dad, like Mr. Easton Elliott and Mr.Bud Tolhurst;
the clatter and roar of the linotype machines on the second floor and the presses on the
first floor at the back of the building; the huge
rolls of newsprint paper; the black, grimy dirt on anything and everything
around the presses...
I will always be very proud of the contributions Dad (and the US&J) made to the
development of Lockport. I hope, as he looks down from his place in heaven, that he
approves of the fact that, perhaps ironically, I am now employed by a corporation that
owns more than 20 newspapers throughout the southeast US.
Thank you for letting me share my memories of what was, for me, a time of happy security
and pride in my home town.
Doug Wells
dwells@pen.k12.va.us
Richmond, VA
6/99
I amaze baseball aficionados from time to time by telling them I once
shook hands with Cy Young, the famous pitcher. It's true, I did. Cy Young
visited Lockport around 1937. He was accompanied by Jimmy Collins, famous old-time
third baseman, who usually is thought of by many as the greatest third baseman among the
real old timers. At a banquet, Darb Whalen was the speaker, and very funny was he.
Darb, also known as Red, was a great player in the minor leagues and was with a New
Haven club.
There were quite a few Lockport guys who played in the minor leagues in those days: George
(Red) Frombgen, Gene Ritzenthaler, Chuck Sheehan and many others.
Red Ferris was a pitcher for the Buffalo Bisons. the two Dussault brothers played in
the minor leagues. Wally Shulock was in the Dodgers farm clubs. His son became a
major league umpire.
Another minor leaguer was a Lockportian by the name of Diddy O'Hare. Where and
what the "Diddy" stood for I don't remember. Nice man. Great athlete: captain of
his high school basketball team. I last saw him at the Lockport Hospital where he was ill
with lung cancer I believe.
Johnny Barnes, however, made it to the New York Yankees as third string catcher. He
worked at Harrison Radiator for years, and I have gone trout fishing with him.
Recollections of Frank Keryk
Sunnyvale, CA
5/7/99
I stumbled onto "Memories of Main Street" and starting reminiscing about the "Good Old Days" (I never thought I would say those words) and how wonderful and safe life was in that small town. I lived in Lockport for 30 years before moving to Arlington, Texas, where I still reside. I often wish my daughters could have experienced the small town atmosphere, although it would never have been the same. Now that they are grown, they like for me to tell them what it was like "back then".
I have wonderful memories of growing up in Lockport. The ones that stand out most are; roller skating at the Hamilton House, Hayes Park, ice skating at Willow Park, Castle’s on Friday night, L.S.H.S., pepperoni pizza from Pontillos, sponge candy from The Royal, milk shakes from The Crystal, Red Hots with Sauce from Reids, and Hank Nevins on the late night radio show.
I visit Lockport at least once a year and always hit the hot spots, Reids, Pontillos
(I forgot the new name), and would not leave town without bringing home some world-famous
Italian sausage from Dominick Scapelliti.
I am looking forward to my 30-year class reunion this September.
JoAnne DeFilippo Sheehan
4/2/99
The IRC (International Railway Company) completed a line from Lockport to Olcott in 1900 operating then as The International Traction Company. That company built the famous hotel which opened in 1902-03. Other branches went to Buffalo, Niagara Falls Canada (that's the International part) and Lewiston. There were several other small railway companies operating in the area in 1902 when the Pioneer Association of Niagara County published its Souvenir History of Niagara County. The IRC operated out of the station in Lockport recently torn down near the Triway bridge. The IRC was bought out by the Erie Railway in the early fifties. The picture below was taken probably about 1910 in the rail yards on Lockport's west end. Visible in the photo are wagon tracks in the muddy road crossing .
"In the picture above the happy trio standing in front are
my grandfather, Fred Buckholtz, (center) who was the train engineer and his fireman.
I don't know what the third person in front did, maybe "conductor" who
rode in the caboose. My grandfather made the run down to Olcott many times. Notice
the electric rod going up off the (electric) engine. The rod, of course, connected
to overhead wires (just like a trolley) to power the engine." 3/6/99
----Dr. Peter Buckholtz, Lockport historian
First, thanks to your web page, I was contacted by two of my relatives
who I had not heard from in years. After reading the different stories on your web page, I
started to think of things that I had experienced as a child that I still smile about when
I hear or see
something that jump-starts my memory circuits.
One of these memories is of the summer of 1960 or '61. I grew up on
Spaulding Street between Erie and Washburn streets. The kids on the block could be seen
gathering on the
corners of their respective streets, Lewis, Spaulding and Oliver as the cry of "The
Candy Man Is Coming!" was heard.
Each day that summer us kids would watch and wait as this man with a distinctive yellow straw bowler and a black sachel walked up from Walnut Street by the (Harrison) Main Plant. He would stop at each corner and smile and pass out lollipos to us kids. One each, only. They were what in those days were the big 5-cent suckers that lasted a long time. It will always be a strong, feel-good memory of my growing up in Lockport...the memories of "The Candy Man."
Years later, when I was doing yard work one summer, I met "The Candy Man" one last time. If memory serves me correctly his name was Mr. Wright. He lived on the north side of High Street, two doors down from Erie Street. In these days of hassles and problems it is pleasant to remember the kindness and generosity of one man making many little kids happy. Thanks, again, "Candy Man."
Bruce E. Patterson
Once of 101 Spaulding St., Lockport
July 1998
I remember Tom Jolls when he was the disc jocky at WUSJ radio; and,
how most of the girls in Lockport in the late 50's thought that he was "so
cool". My childhood friend Rose Marie Simpson (Rosie Kipp @ USPS, Lkpt) and I would
listen to the radio and try to guess the top 10 records of the week hoping one of us would
win the "Album of the Week". Rosie was a
pro at this (I, however, was a dismal failure) and on more than one occasion, Rosie went
home with the album.
I remember most ~ On hot summer days we would walk the mile up to Outwater Park and wade
in the kiddie pool, just to cool off. With our sneakers and shorts wet, we would follow
the path over the escartment and down to the old springs. We let that crystal clear,
naturally chilled spring water pool up in our hands. With droplets seeping out between our
fingers, we would slurp up the inviting liquid ... ummmm. Refreshed we would re-climb the
escartment path. A few minutes we always spent on the swings and then a stop at the
concession stand, for a popsicle, that we would split.
We took those summers for granted, never thinking they would end. Oh, to have been able to
look forward and to have really savored that time.
---Sherrill Madden
July 1998
Hi. I'm Barbara (Thurston) Petty and I'm one of those who drop in regularly to check up on the latest news of Lockport at the Lockport website. I'm a former Lockportian. I'd love to see people share their recollections of Lockport living. It would be interesting to hear from those who left Lockport like I did, and also those who live there yet. To start the ball rolling, I'd like to share some of my own memories of life as it once was in Lockport. Since our family left Lockport when I was twelve years old and and left the State at age eighteen, my memories of Lockport are slightly faded and are those of my childhood, yet many are fairly vivid and portray a Lockport as I perceived it about fifty years ago.
Barbara Petty's Recollections
Have Moved To A Separate Page.
Go to: Growing Up In Lockport