Revisiting the South End—if You Dare
In memory of my brother, Harlan, who
would have been 77 yesterday.
The yard at our Mcloud Street home as it is
today.
All these maple trees were small when I lived there except for the one
next to the buildings.
Photo by Sandra Sylvester
Those of you who have
followed this blog since its beginning on the old Village Soup site in 2009
know I have approached this subject more than once. You always seem to like
stories of the old South End as the number of hits on these stories is always
high. Therefore I thought I’d bring you one more story on the reputation of the
South End. It still holds some mystique and mystery and a bad reputation in
spite of all the success of the good folks who once called the South End their
home. (Another story I have done, by the way.)
My inspiration for this
newest story of the South End comes from two sources. The first is a column
written by David Grima, “Rockland Gothic” which appears in the Courier Gazette.
I read his tongue-in-cheek eclectic column religiously. It’s like reading the
old “Black Cat” column of Sid Cullen fame only with a bite to it.
I don’t think Grima is a
Rockland native, but he claims to live in the eyesore we call the “grain
storage bin” or as David calls it, the “west tower.” Several attempts at
getting the darn thing dismantled have come to naught (where are eco-terrorists
when you need them anyway). I have a feeling that if this thing sat down by the
refurbished modern waterfront near the Landing, it would be long gone—just
saying.
Anyway, in a recent
column by Grima he mentions that he met up with an old Southender who stated
that when she was a little girl her parents promised that if they ever knew of
her hanging out in the South End that she would be grounded for life. Ironically,
she now lives in the area of the old Fuller Market on Pacific and Crescent
Streets—about as South End as you can get.
Grima also says he’s
heard that residents of the old South End used to sleep with guns under their
pillows. Well, I’m here to tell you I never saw or heard of anyone having any
gun in the South End that wasn’t a hunting rifle. Yet the stories persist. The
Big Bad South End.
Grima also mentions the
Merriam boys who lived on Mechanic Street when the water came up almost to the
road. It was a marshy area with an old barge sitting in the middle of it which
the boys used to dive off. Another eyesore which was there for many years
before it was removed. The location is now Snow Marine Park which even has a
museum next door. Imagine that!
My family didn’t always
live in the South End. When my brothers were little the family lived up on
Cedar Street in the North End. By the time I was born, we lived on Mcloud
Street. We moved to the Fulton Street house when I was a teenager.
The walkway beside the Fulton Street house as
it appears today. Photo by Sandra Sylvester
Because my mother had
made many friends in the North End, she tended to hold on to them when we moved
“South.” It’s possible, therefore, that I was sheltered by her from the “bad”
influences in the South End. I must say though, that I never felt afraid or
threatened growing up in the South End. I have many happy memories of my years
there.
Grima alluded to what is
another inspiration for this story called “Rockland’s Gangs.” As Grima says,
the Merriam boys were once prepared to go to war with the North End boys armed
with BB guns.
I doubt if such an event
ever occurred. However, according to another South End boy, Terry Economy, who
grew up with my brothers in the South End and who became a member of the Maine
Broadcasting Hall of Fame and who now writes a column for the Courier called “Rail Kids—Rockland
Recollections,” at one time there were “gangs” in Rockland.
His recollections about
these “gangs” were my other inspiration for this story.
In Terry’s “gang” story
he mentions five gangs that once existed in Rockland: The North End gang, which
the Merriam boys were probably talking about; the South End gang; Union Street
gang; Thomaston Street gang; and the Alex gang, of which Terry was a member.
Terry says that the Alex
gang, of the Orange Street area, was the toughest of them all. They were led by
a leader called “The Boss” and they were all taught how to defend themselves.
Their base was the second floor of an old barn in the area which was equipped
with shift bunks, oil lamps, decorations, comic books and heat provided by an
old tin wood stove. I’ve heard of many so-called “clubhouses” in the old South
End neighborhood, but this is the most elaborate one I’ve ever heard of. It
brings back images of the old “Our Gang” movies with Alfalfa and the gang.
The gangs of those days
in the early 40s up to the early 50s were not like the gangs you imagine
existed then and today in the big cities like New York City. The South End
gangs were big rivals of each other; but fighting was not the way they solved
anything. Rather they would play one game or another: baseball and football
being the most played. There were no “street signs” made by your hands or
“colors” worn by a specific gang. Building a snow fort, supplying it with icy
snowballs and commencing to have a “snowball” fight was probably the extent of
“violence” they took part it.
As far as “turfs” go I
can remember some areas I was told not to venture into. As I had two older
brothers, I doubt that anyone in any of these gangs would have messed with me.
I was very young in the early 40s also. It’s possible that these gangs were
fading out by the time I was of an age to realize they existed.
As I lived in the
Suffolk Street to Crescent Street and around to the Pacific Street area, I
would feel uncomfortable if I ventured into an area such as upper Pleasant
Street, near the Alex gang; or down on the lower end of Crescent Street and
Atlantic Street area. It wasn’t exactly a fear I felt but rather just an
uncomfortable feeling, especially when a strange kid stared at me in an
unwelcoming way.
I was told in fact, not
to hang out around lower Crescent Street. This is the area our young girl of
the above story now lives.
We also had a couple of
huge apartment houses which were scary to me as a little girl when I walked
past them. The kids who lived in these apartments were probably the least
privileged of all of us in the South End.
If they had enough to eat on a particular day it was a good day for
them. They were therefore necessarily scrappy in order to survive.
I do remember one time,
however, when I was thrilled to participate in the evening games of the gang my
brother Harlan hung around with. I don’t know if his gang had a name or not. I
do know that they really enjoyed hanging out together, playing ball games,
swimming down at Sandy Shores or Dix Beach or the Little Granites.
On this night I was
actually sitting on the steps belonging to the home of one of this gang on
lower Crescent Street. The “gang” had more or less adopted me as a special
mascot and I thoroughly enjoyed watching them play kick the can and Truth or
Consequences (or the full name, Truth, Dare, Consequences, Promise or Repeat).
You know what that game is if you ever lived in the South End or even the North
End.
I don’t know if my
mother even knew where I was on this night, and she was probably worried. The
street lights had come on a while ago, which was the signal for me to come
home. I expect my brother got a talking to when she found out where I’d been.
This same gang also took
me to the Saturday afternoon movies at the Strand on Main Street one time. As
Terry mentions in his story, each gang sat together which is how I remember it
that day. I also remember a lot of commotion and throwing of popcorn, sticky candy
and chewed gum. Those kids sitting in the balcony had the advantage as it was
almost impossible to throw candy back at them up there. I’m guessing these
“weapons” replaced the switchblades of the notorious city gangs.
Believe it or not, a big
bunch of us who grew up in the South End survived and eventually became good
citizens of whatever town or city we ended up in. Some of us even distinguished
ourselves in one way or another. The Wicked South End wasn’t so wicked after
all. Now Sea Street, or Tillson Avenue as it is called today, is another story
altogether. Ask the folks at the Rockland Historical Society to show you
pictures and tell you about that notorious area.
Thanks for listening.
Note: For those of you who are new to this
blog space, the old stories of the South End appear for the most part in a CD
called “On Being a Southender, Vol. 1, 2009.” If you would like one, see the
box on the right side of this blog space down near the bottom.
