The Life and Times of The CoffeyMen!
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copyrighted ©
I must tell you now that this History / story is based on as much fact and my memory as I can recall.
In the year of 0ur Lord 1895 0n the 27th.day of
January a boy, George was born to George {senior}
and Mary Jane M-c Ginty of Woodstock, New Brunswick,
Canada.
He was Baptized the following 14th. of
May, sponsored by John and Catherine Fitzpatrick.
the priest was Father W.
F. Chafmam. {recorded at St.Gertrude's Woodstock,
Canada.}
The family
lived in a 3 story wooden home on a hill in a remote
area which they called "The Back Place."
{ The picture above shows a 1 room school house, the
teacher in the doorway. On the top porch is my Father, front row far left. The rest are my Aunts and Uncles, the 2 boys standing on the ground I do not
know. Photo taken about 1902. }
As this youngster grew strong an tall, 6 foot one
to be exact.
But in his younger days he went into the
woods as a lumberjack. Now I must tell you some 40
years later this newborn would become my Father.
Dad once told me he was in the deep woods for the whole winter. As he was returning home to Houlten, and nearing home his team of horses who had been worked hard the whole time were in prime shape. A matched set of Blacks.
About the time he was coming over a snow covered bridge near the house, the horses realizing where they were began to prance and rear up. Dad said they almost walked across the bridge on their hind legs. He had his hands full controlling them.
Being with a full beard and only 19 or 20 he looked much older, as luck would have it he said his sister Elizabeth was walking into town across the bridge. Later that night after he shaved and bathed they were all at the supper table when Elizabeth came home and told of the old man on the bridge and wondered why they couldn't have good looking horse's like his.Eliziabeth didn't know why everyone was laughing.
His travels took him to become a lineman working on
the installation of telegraph lines heading south
into the U.S.of A.
The tales and stories he and his brothers used to exchange would keep me mesmerized at his knee for hours at a time. I guess this story is and should be more about my Dad than me.
He had
four brothers Peter {Pete}, Frank, Louis,an
Emmett.
An incident happened with Emmett
when he was very young, 5 or 6 I presume. As Peter
was mowing a field of hay with a team of horses
Emmett decided to hide in the hay and scare his
brother Pete, as my uncle approached, little
Emmett jumped to his feet and as he waved his arms an shouted, the horses jumped sideways bringing the
sickle bar around with tremendous speed.
Before my uncle Pete could bring the animals to a halt the damage had been done, young Emmett's leg was severed just below the knee.
As you can imagine medical expertise was nothing as today's standards so the chance of saving the leg was out of the question.
All through the years I always could see my father's closeness to his "little brother."
As my Father's work on the telegraph brought him
farther and farther South, he stopped in New York to
see the marvel of the day. A talking movie "The Jazz
Singer" starring Al Jolson.
When later he arrive
in Philadelphia and told of hearing pictures talk he
was laughed at. But when it premiered in Philly he
was the only lineman at work, everyone else was at
the movie !
Just about the time his job on the
telegraph came to a halt the Great depression hit and work was very scarce. As luck would have it he was
hired by the Philadelphia Electric Co. as a
lineman. About this time he meet the Bray's an lrish family living in West Chester, Penna. they had three daughters Sara, Helen and
Marguerite.
On a crisp Saturday afternoon about
3:00pm. I drew my first breath on God's
green earth. From the first I was given a trial to
bear as in the Chester County Hosp. as I was exposed
to and contacted impetigo the results of which would
cause me trouble later in life.
Well
the man refused and harsh words were exchanged. As
came time for the bidding to start my Father walked
to where the man was, his back to the Auctioneer,
his fist clenched looking the realtor right in the
eye, WHAT AM I BID? ......... ONE DOLLAR was the
response, DO I HEAR TWO? -- "Silence" echoed thru
the trees. SOLD TO G.COFFEY! ,,,,,, my Dad stepped up to the tax collector's table signed a promissory note to pay the back taxes, and he had his little
homestead.
My time from birth to about 3 is baby time and has no solid memories to me. We lived in town during that
time. Around then or so my Father felt secure enough
to start to build a home on the property. First a
two car garage was built with a loft for living
quarters. We lived in cramped surroundings . my
fascination started to peak when ground was broken
for my new house. I was 5. At time time in little Italy there were some very fine Artisans in
the stone mason's trade. These men had most all come
to America from the Old country. My greatest treat was
Louie's lunch time. A 36" belt that circled a
32"waist had a extra 4"s, a little spittle and the
knife drawn across it to hone it yet again.
Please sign my guestbook before you go and thanks for
stopping by, please continue.
<---CODE--->
On To Part 2 of The Coffeymen!
They had a son born on September 1st. 1934.
My days were happy and healthy as any little guy of
my day, 1934/35.
I need to go back a bit
and tell again of my Father's escapades , a 5 acre plot of land was being foreclosed on for non- payment of taxes.
Everyone around knew my Father
wanted it to build a home for his family. As would
have it a local relator wanted it just for
speculation.
In
asking around their area you soon found out who was
the best mason , some with chimneys ,some with field
stone, some with tarrazzo. As our home was to be
built of quarry stone, A Mr. Louie Gaspara "Was the
Man" as Louie didn't drive my Father had to drive to
town , pick him up bring him to the job, milk and
feed the cows and other chores of his own then drive to work himself.
At exactly the same time he would sit upon the quarry stone wall
he'd built, leading up the drive way. He and I never
talked as I was some what in
awe of him.
A paper bag that was
like an endless pit came out from some where hidden
among the stone to keep it cool. Waxed paper rattled and there presto were scrambled eggs and two pieces of bread.
His razor sharp pocket knife was removed from the
back pocket of an old pair of dress pants, {herring
bone.}
A beautiful pepper appeared and blade and
pepper met, sliced to just the right length and
width it was nestled on the eggs, salt an pepper. I
don't think I ever blinked for fear I would miss this performance. It was set aside on the ever present
wax paper. In another paper bag , {a place of honor}, came a pint Mason jar with the darkest ruby red
Vino you can imagine. Then and only then did dinner
begin.
Read my Dreambook!
Sign my Dreambook!
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