Workman sisters, l-r: Esther "Mickey," Mary Jane, Ethel Mae and Betty Jo

~ Dec. 17, 1977: Phoebe Remembers Betty Jo’s Beginnings ~

This day’s to start when you (Betty Jo) were born. Well that was quite a sensation as you were the first grandchild and the first great grandchild. [I think the rest of the family have been jealous ever since.] You were at your grandma Thorpe’s when you arrived as your Aunt Mary sat on the bottom step of the stairs crying for fear something was wrong (as they tell me I had quite a tome which was soon forgotten) and your Uncle Edwin was on the top stair with his thumbs in his shoulders proudly saying "And now I’m an uncle." Before I should have, I hurried back to your Great Grandmother (Freed) who was seriously ill and no one could catherize her without hurting her but your mother. As we both had the same doctor -- a cousin -- he gave his consent as he would be there too, so in a few days we made Grandma Freed very happy. She told everyone who came in about her Betty Jo. At two months someone decided to have a birthday party (Grandma was expected to go (die) at any time so Aunt Sarah got her some soft white shoes and all dressed up while Howard (Grandma’s favorite) carried grandma to the table where the cake was with two candles on it. So Grandma decided she had had you for two years. We didn’t try to change her mind-she was so happy.

I think we went to Poplar Grove next where the street car was at the front door and Mrs. Jones landlady was (4 years old) teasing you all the time. Then we lived in town for a few months in Mr. Dull's Alley house. You were walking everywhere when we went to the farm. After that-I knew nothing but work, inside and out, fruit trees fell and just rotted on the ground, lawn was like a field and animals could go anywhere. I fixed fences, used sticks and string to keep chicks from the garden, cut up the trees , but I needed them as no money to buy coal until Mrs. Stone started to buy vegetables to pay the coal bill we already owed. I got hay and chaf from Fern’s barn. Mrs. Nickelson brought me seeds, berry plants and bulbs. Minerds loaned me their old incubator. I hatched 100 chicks and made pets out of them and cried every time I had to kill one for Sunday dinner.

Lets go back to Tippie (dog). He never left your side when you were out, so when he appeared a the back door without you I was everywhere in no time flat but Tippie insisted I cross the road and sure enough you were stuck in the swamp. But when your dad was home you followed him like a shadow and when he was at work (The Poplar Grove Garage at the time) you liked a little rope swing under the grape arbor where you snag about your “old Shoe Dad” and he loved it. The day you went to visit Granny Horner and son Joe, Tippie again appeared alone but wouldn’t go up the lane as they had a dangerous dog everyone but you was afraid of.I had to phone your Dad at Poplar Grove Garage and he soon found you helping Joe feed the chickens or something.

At right: son Howard Workman Jr., circa 1942.

~ Memories of Edwin David Workman - 1975 ~

I guess I should start with the first memories of my father, but since this is meant to be a historical rather than personal account, I find it necessary to brief most of it.Since dad would have been considered “Old” by most standards when I was born, it was only in later years that he and Uncle Joe really ever talked to me about their younger days, so it’s possible that their recollections (as well as mine) may seem some what vague.

My first strong recollections were when I was recuperating from pneumonia (I guess I was about 4 at the time) and even here my only vivid memory was of the tall, silent man standing by the bed for what seemed like hours, just watching me while others were scurrying around. I guess this is where I got my first impression of quiet strength in him which was to be borne out in many future events.

Most people, including the family would have described him as a quiet plodding man, never excited or excitable with little or no sense of humor and with little interest in anything other than the farm and livestock. I must admit that I fell into this same category, probably until I was in my early teens. Earlier, I can vividly remember his skill with handling animals, and only once or twice remember him losing his temper (at least in front of me or at me, for that matter!)

I guess I was as much of, or more than, a “tagalong” and a “Why, Daddy?” as any young boy, and in most cases, his patience was, in retrospect, monumental and seemingly endless. His teaching methods could well be emulated more today, and in some respects they are, with the current emphasis on “hands on “experience adopted in current Vocational Training programs in the more progressive schools. (I would have to say at this point that, like Mark Twain – “when I was young, I didn’t think my father was very smart, but as I got older I was surprised at how much the old man had learned in a few short years!”

But – (you were more interested in his younger years) it was only after dad had his stroke that he and I ever actually sat down and talked, and I think I should elaborate on this a little more, so pardon me if I digress again. I was to realize in later years that dad’s reticence was due more to physical exhaustion that reluctance to talk about himself. I do recall many days when we would work together in the fields and saying no more that five or six words to each other, but it seemed at the time we each understood what needed to be done and words were unnecessary – I guess we were closer in that respect than the other kids and he. A prime example of this is that after a visit to the farm one weekend (while I was still married) Chris asked me on the way home why Dad and I weren’t speaking to each other, since she had been watching us working for several hours and neither of us had said a word to each other! As I recall, we had been rushing to put a load of Alphalfa in the barn before a rainstorm – what was there to say? She never did understand that! Anyway, it was while Dad was recuperating that he told me of his earlier years, which, by patching together what I had learned from long talks with Uncle Joe and Aunt Sarah Freed gave me a fairly clear picture of what life was like in those early years.

We never pinpointed dates or ages (you should be able to estimate better than I) in his early teens, he had his first paying job off the farm driving a wagon from the mine shaft (That we called Billy Miner’s Shaft down by the “far” field) to the coke ovens at Connellsville (some of these were still in existence the last time I was there) for which he was paid 25 cents a day. I discovered this when I asked about the old brick road by the edge of the property adjoining Kelly’s farm. The old ruts that crossed the limestone ledge above “Kelly’s Falls” were made over the years by the steel-rimmed tires of the coal wagons. I don’t think he ever mentioned the name of the coal company but I believe this preceded H. C. Frick’s purchase of the mineral rights, but it was several years before the P.& W.V. R.R. extended the spur line and began using that route out of Connellsville. It’s my understanding that that shaft was discontinued and used only as an air vent when H. C. Frick took over. He chuckled about the last run of the day, when he would carry the daily “whiskey ration” back to the mine (*) and then drive the miners back to the company store in North Connellsville.

Union Cemetery, Dickerson Run, PA

 

*(It was customary to provide the miners with a daily whiskey ration at the end of the shift – this came in small two gallon wooden kegs, and the rides back to town sometimes got pretty exciting, to hear him tell it.)

This apparently continued for several years, alternating with work on the family farm. He then began work as an all-around helper at the company store (North Connellsville at the start of Breakneck Road – in later years this was the Hardware store bedside the Lumber Co. – that old row of coke ovens ran right behind the store). His one souvenir of this period was the small .22 caliber pistol furnished by the company – this was during the early 1900s and North Connellsville even at that time had a reputation (still did, the last time I was there), most of the early immigrant coal miners lived in this area and in a shantytown on the hill (later known as “Swaugertown Road”) (as far as I know, Dave Budenz still has the pistol – he wanted to have it restored, but was in too bad shape - Jerry would know). During this period, all three brothers, Howard, Joe, and Harry had acquired considerable skill as wheelwrights and wagon repairing (this from Uncle Joe) on the family farm and were adept at repairing any type of farm equipment of the day.They managed to acquire the use of an old carriage house on the Coalbrook – Maple Grove Road (This is where the old stucco house I mentioned later stood and was almost straight across from the streetcar stop we used for school was). Automobiles were late arriving in this area, but prior to Harry’s going into the army; it was a combination Blacksmith shop, wagon repair and auto repair shop. It was during this period (Per Uncle Joe and Aunt Sarah) that the brothers acquired a reputation of being “somewhat wild” to use a phrase of the period. One story Uncle Joe told was of the time the three put a rod through the steering column or a Model “T” Ford, removed the steering wheel nut, would ride down North Pittsburgh Street hill with the one driving with his left leg over the door, and slouched down in front with his right leg out the other side, and the third in the back waving nonchalantly to onlookers!

 

~ Memoirs by Tilghman "Tim" Thorpe -- Freed Farm ~

A few things I remember as a boy on grandpa Freeds farm:

Rode the pole train from Whittset Junction to Dickerson Run.Got street car at Liberty to the old Italy Crossing, walked up the hill to grandpa Freeds house. At age ten was quite a thrill. Grandma always had plenty of good food and lots of cookies ready for me, (she was a great cook).

To bed early 8 or 9 o’clock. About 3 a.m. next morning grandpa would awaken me with the following, "Tillman, it is time to get up. Today is Monday, tomorrow is Tuesday and the next day is Wednesday, weeks half done and nothing done."

Feed chickens, cows, horses and then milk the cows and take the milk into the cellar and then we would have breakfast (5:30 to 6am).After Breakfast (6:30 to 6:45), water the horses. Dolly & Charlie. Ride Charlie with just halter, down the lane to watering trough or they wouldn’t return, they would do so but in pasture fields with the cows.Back to the barn and put harness on horses and we were ready to start the day. Plow or hoe corn till noon and back to the house for lunch. Out again till 5 or 6 pm. Feed horses, milk cows, then we would have supper.

I liked the days we had to cut hay because I only had to pull weeds that we didn’t want in the hay.

Tuesday and Friday in raspberry season were berry picking days. Wednesday and Saturday morning we delivered the berries into Connellsville. If not too many berries to be delivered, Grandpa would drop me off at the Trotter slate dump and I would pick coal till he returned. Then we would hitch up the team and get the coal. 

 

Trotter ovens of the H.C. Frick Coke Co.

(Seen here, an old postcard of piles at the coke ovens at Trotter, owned by the H.C. Frick Coke Company.]

Sunday was a day of rest, after milking and feeding and breakfast, clean surry with fringe on top. Put light harness on horses, get cleaned up and off to Vanderbilt to Presbyterian Church. (The last two years Uncle Walter took us to church in his car). Home and lunch and the rest of the day was free for we usually spent visiting neighbors and when Swayzee was there we would have good feasts at the one neighbors house.

What little home life as I saw it, we had was making cookies on Saturday night for the next week, pulling taffy or maybe as a special treat home made ice cream.

Grace was said before each meal and scripture read every night before bed. They lived by faith and it really worked. Grandpa never lost any hay or any crops that I can remember.

I might say for punishment for doing things I shouldn't have done I was sent to bed without any supper. But Aunt Sarah and Grandma would always sneak something up to my room.

This went on from week to week until summer was over. Back to Perry and get ready to start back to school.

It seemed like real hard work to me then but I can see what good training I received now I am so glad I had this experience.

 

Copyright © 2009 Betty Jo (Workman) Canter

Memoirs by Edwin David Workman and Tilghman Thorpe used with permission.