Picher’s Furniture Store, at 88-90 Water St. The building is no longer there. It was located across from Gold St. intersection.
by Roland D. Hallee
A market at 162 Water St.
Behind the market, at 162-1/2 Water St., is what appears to be a tavern.
At 188 Water St., there appears
to be another tavern.
Haines Theater
by Roland D. HalleeThis week we are going to take a hiatus from the pictorial walk down Water St., on The Plains, and look at some other things we did growing up in the 1950s and ‘60s.
Not everything we did occurred on The Plains. By the 1950s, the Maine Theater, on Water St., had been closed for some time, even though the building and the marquee remained. I remember my parents talking about the Maine Theater, but I never set foot inside.
So, as something to do – I think our mother did this mostly to get us out of her hair – we would look forward to Saturdays when we were each given a quarter, and off to the movie theater we went. Now, get this, for that quarter, we would get into the theater, and purchase a bag of popcorn and a soda. Unbelievable, right?
There were two venues to which we would go, the State Theater, on Silver St., (where Cancun’s is now, and Steve’s restaurant before that), or the Opera House. Back then, the Opera House had a “big screen”. The Haines Theater also existed, on Main St., but they didn’t offer any Saturday children’s specials. The Haines Theater was located across the street from TD Bank, today, next to the building that houses Selah Tea. It is now a small park.
At first, we would sit as close to the screen as possible, but as we grew older, we wanted to sit in the balcony. From that point, we could “rain” popcorn and soda on the kids sitting below. You had to be discreet, because on Saturday mornings, there were extra ushers on hand to try to keep the peace. Getting caught meant immediate expulsion from the theater, and you had better have a good story to tell your parents as to why you were home so early.
Again, for that 25-cents, you first had a series of cartoons, Tom and Jerry, Sylvester the cat and Tweetie bird, Donald Duck, Daffy Duck, Yosemite Sam, Elmer Fudd, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and my favorite, Mighty Mouse, who wore a cape and could rip the heart out of any villain. He could also fly. Yes, cartoons were violent, but also funny. We didn’t really care, it was hilarious to see Daffy Duck get his beak blown off his face every week.
Randolph Scott and Karen Steele in Ride Lonesome (1959)
Following that, we got a news reel of current events. That is when the action started in the audience. We really didn’t know what was going on in the world, and, again, didn’t care.
Roy Rogers, Dale Evans and Trigger.
Then came the feature movies, usually westerns: Tom Mix, Randolph Scott, Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry, and the most famous of all, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, and his horse Trigger. Of course, Roy Rogers wasn’t a true western. He did chase bad guys with guns and got involved in fist fights, but Dale Evans had a Jeep named Nellie Belle, and Rogers had a side kick named Cookie, played by Andy Devine. The most I remember about Gene Autry is that he wore jeans with rolled up cuffs, and sang a lot.
On occasion, they would have a horror movie. One that I can remember was The Creature from the Black Lagoon, which pretty much scared the dickens out of us. Fast forwarding to the present, I saw that same movie a couple of weeks ago on MeTV’s Svengoolie. That movie wasn’t so scary after all.
Saturdays began with rising before sun-up, complete our paper route, return home to do our weekly chores, usually dusting and putting away the weekly laundry. We would then leave the house to be at the theater by 10 a.m. The rest of the day was spent there, usually coming home after 4 p.m., when darkness was about to settle in or, sometimes, after dark. After supper, it was outside when all the neighborhood kids would gather for a round of “hide and seek,” now called “manhunt”.
We would then come home, get comfortable in our pajamas, and gather around the radio for that week’s episode of Gunsmoke, before retiring to bed.
With no television, yet, in the house, we surely found plenty to do on The Plains.
by Roland D. HalleePart of a row of tenement buildings (top and below) between 30 – 44 Water St., which sat on the east side of Water St., overlooking the Kennebec River.
All of these apartment buildings, and many others, were torn down in the 1960s. These (below) were located on the side where a guardrail now exists, and the lots overgrown with vegetation. You can see parts of the buildings that extended down to the river.
A Lockwood-Duchess warehouse which ran along Water St., about where the entrance to the Hathaway Center parking lot is now.
by Roland D. HalleeThis week we will begin our stroll on the east side of Water St.
A Gulf gas station, which was located where Prsicilla’s Shop is today.
The first of a long row of tenement buildings which ran along the east side of Water St., many hanging over the banking. We will take a look at more of them next week.
This miniscule storefront was the original location of Scotty’s Pizza, which was established in 1962. This building was right across from where Scotty’s Pizza now sits on the corner of Water and Sherwin streets.
The Maine Theater, showing Three Married Men, starring Roscoe Karns and Mary Brian. That part of the buildings no longer exists.
by Roland D. Hallee
Daviau’s Pharmacy, on the corner of Water and Gray streets.
Service station, later to become Belliveau’s Service Station, on the corner of Water and Gold streets, now part of KVCAP campus.
H.A. Marshall and First National Stores, on the corner of Water and King streets.
The Water St. Market, located on the north side of the intersection with Sherwin St. The upper floors facade of the Chez Paree can be seen at right. That area is now a parking lot for the “Chez”.
by Roland D. HalleeThis week we continue our trip down the west side of Water St., and buildings that are no longer there.
A small shoe repair shop, at 47-1/2 Water St., that sat directly next door to what is now Scotty’s Pizza. The store’s awning can be seen at right.
To the left of the shoe repair shop is this store front, located at 47-A Water St., which this author does not remember its function.
A single family home, at 53 Water St., to the left of the unknown store front.
by Roland D. HalleeOver the next few weeks, we will go down Water St., from north to south, and take a look at some of the buildings that played a major role in the self-contained community of The Plains, that have long since been demolished.
The old barn that stood across the street from the Lockwood-Duchess Textile Mill, and out buildings. The former KFC building now occupies the site.
Rodrigue’s Market, and below, Ma Roy’s Tavern. In the approximate area of where Sunrise Bagel now stands.
Ma Roy’s tavern
Pete’s Market, three doors down from where Ma Roy’s Tavern was located.
The only photo that could be found of the St. Joseph School was taken in 1944. Maybe you have some relatives in the photo. These were the Cadets (grades 5-8). Front row, left to right, Arthur Belanger, (?), Donald Bouchard, Edwin Daigle, Norman Pilotte, Louis Champagne, Norman Giroux, Gid Talbot, Armand Giguere, Alex Cormier, Robert Bourget, Roger Corbin and Arnold Trahan. Second row, Donald Carpentier, Denis Labonte, Arthur Routhier, Lionel Cabana, Bob “Satch” Maheu, Bertrand Lacroix, Jerome Hallee, Donald Pelletier, Gene Gagne, Reginald Porter, Francis Poirier, Robert Champagne, Thomas Michaud, Richard Duperry, Robert Trahan, Raymond Carpentier and Edmond Martin. Rear, going up the steps, Brandon Rancourt, Roger Ouellette, (?) Champagne, Reg Pelletier, Robert Lessard, Reginald Roy, Francis Poirier, Kenneth Rancourt, Francis Hallee, Richard Carrier, Donald Vachon, Gerald Mathieu, Jerome Poirier, Wilfred Viens, Fernand Michaud, Reginald Trahan, Bernard Bolduc, David Bolduc, Roger Hallee, Marcel Jalbert and Donald Maheu. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee, published in Paper Talks, 1984.)
by Roland D. HalleeLike any other phase of life, growing up on The Plains also meant school days.
Although the first five years of my school days were spent at St. Francis de Sales Parochial School, there came a time when I had to go to a different school.
St. Francis only accommodated boys until the fifth grade. Girls could stay until the eighth grade. At the time I was there, the “brothers” school across the parking lot had been shuttered. The only occupants were from the Lebanese community, who were using the building as a temporary school while awaiting the completion of their own building, St. Joseph Maronite School, on Appleton St. For some reason I don’t recall, we were mostly segregated from them, and didn’t get to meet them until high school, some of whom became good friends.
So, the boys had to go to St. Joseph Catholic School, on Silver Street, to continue their parochial education, or enroll in a public school. My parents chose to enroll me at St. Joseph’s.
St. Joseph School was located between Preston and Kimball streets, the present site of Notre Dame Catholic Church. It was a one-story, white, clapboard-sided building that sat way back from the street. It resembled your standard-looking school building. It also included a field across Preston St. where we had formulated a crude softball field. The site of the school actually had three softball fields. The other two being in front of the school, one on the south side of the yard, and the other on the north side.
Every day, I would walk up Summer St., actually passing the site of my dad’s old market, and down Kimball St. I only attended that school two years (1960-1962), going on to junior high school my eighth grade year. That is a whole different story.
The teachers at the school at the time was Brother Eugene, Mr. Roberge and Mrs. Pelletier. I only had the two former as teachers, in sixth and seventh grades, respectively. My cousin, E. Roger Hallee, began teaching their my eighth grade year, but I never had him because I had moved on to junior high.
My first experience was strange, because so far my entire school life had been spent with the same kids, most of whom lived in my neighborhood, so we were very well acquainted. Now, I was thrust into an environment where I met other boys, mostly from Notre Dame Parochial School, that was located between King and Water streets, at the time, where the KVCAP main building is now.
There was nothing exceptional that stands out in recollecting those years, except the highly-competitive softball games during recess and lunch hour in fall and spring. The South End was home to some of Waterville’s best athletes, and competing against them, or with them, was an excellent learning experience.
Of course, most of the school year took place during winter months, and nothing much went on outside, except an occasional chance to go to the nearby South End Arena to play some hockey.
I could name some of the guys I went to school with there, but it wouldn’t be fair to those I don’t remember. But I do remember one, who shall remain nameless, who was a left-handed hitter, that could hit the ball all the way to Silver St. – on the fly – something no one else could do. Sometimes in the fall, we would organize touch football games. We also played some soccer.
For those of us growing up in the area of The Plains, those years at St. Joseph School were formative years that prepared us for the next phase in our lives – high school.
Arthur Gagne, right, and son Carl, standing in the South End Arena location. Note the boards around the area. (contributed photo)
by Roland D. HalleeThis week, we’re going to take a closer look at a teen hotspot during those years, 1950s and 1960s.
The South End Arena was founded by a Waterville police captain, Arthur Gagne. He had a vision to provide a place for local teens to gather in a safe and family-friendly environment.
But, the venue was not just used for winter ice sports. Prior to that, it was the site of many boxing matches held in the city. But, that was before my time.
My first experience at “Art’s”, which is what we called it, was to participate in public skating, usually on the weekends. When you first arrived, you would go into a warming shack to pay the admission fee, usually minimal – I want to say 25-cents, but my memory doesn’t quite cooperate. It was a tar-paper shack with wood shavings on the ground so your skates wouldn’t make contact with the dirt floor. There was a wood-burning stove, and the aroma of that was mesmerizing. You could smell it for blocks.
You would put on your skates, maybe socialized a bit, then go out the door onto the ice surface. The rink was Olympic size, larger than your average ice surface today. So, there was plenty of room for experienced skaters, and beginners.
Beginners would usually gather in a corner, and fall more times than they moved. The more experienced would skate around the rest of the rink. Sometimes, when Arthur wasn’t looking, we would form a human-whip. That was a blast, especially the further out you were on the line. Arthur didn’t care for us doing that because of the risk of injuries. But, we were young, enthusiastic, and maybe a little naïve as to what could happen.
Of course, later at night, after public skating ended, we would organize a pick-up hockey game. Some of Waterville’s finest hockey players came from the “South End,” affectionally known as the “Rink Rats.” We would take on all comers, and would usually prevail against challenging teams from other parts of the city. There were no bleachers around the rink. Spectators had to stand in the snowbanks, with no screens nor glass to protect them from errant pucks. You had to keep your eyes on the action.
Once the hockey was done, it was time to get down to work. In order to get in to public skating for free, you would join the scraping gang. You would grab a scraper, most of which were fabricated from old street/traffic signs with a wooden handle attached. The steel made for very thorough clearing of the snow that had accumulated from the night’s skating. Then, out came the fire hoses and the beginning to lay a fresh layer of ice, sometimes causing it to be at the arena into the early morning hours. Some would nap on the counter, and the benches in the warming shack until it was their turn to take over.
But Arthur wanted to offer more to the local teens. So, later, he constructed a building more like a ski lodge, with a small concession stand, juke box, a pool table, and, of course, a place to put on your skates to hit the ice.
You were also expected to be on your best behavior. Arthur had a zero tolerance for unacceptable conduct. I don’t quite recall what the punishment was, because we all knew what was expected of us. Not many were reprimanded.
As the years went by, and Arthur became unable to continue with what we called the “Youth Center,” until his passing, his son Carl took over. Carl had a history of playing hockey, having been the goaltender for the Waterville High School hockey team in the late 1950s.
But it was now the 1970s and times were changing. The arena soon began to deteriorate, and funding to keep it going was eliminated. Unable to continue with the financial responsibilities, the arena was closed, and passed into history.
Whenever I drive by the site of the old rink, I always think I would like to stop to take a look, to reminisce the days of my youth, but that would mean trespassing on someone’s property. To access the rink back in those days, you actually went up Arthur’s driveway to get to the shack and the rink, which were located behind his home.
For some of us, memories are all we have left of the old South End Arena.
Water St. looking north. Notice the row of tenement buildings on the right. Those were built on the river bank, and were supported by stilts. They were removed in the 1960s and 1970s. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)
by Roland D. Hallee
Water St. looking south. Beginning with Poissonnier’s Market in right foreground. The Maine Theater marquis can be seen in the middle of the photo. On the left is a home that is still there today. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)
The Hose 3 substation of the Waterville Fire Department was located across the street from the Second Baptist Church. The building remains, but is now a residence. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)
The Grove St. playground in the 1950s. The tenement building in the background, burned several years ago and is no longer there. (photo courtesy of E. Roger Hallee)