LIFE ON THE PLAINS – Sundays were special: Especially when dad didn’t work

/0 Comments/in , , /by

Waterville Post Office, built in 1911, as seen in this 1960s photo.

by Roland D. Hallee

Back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, life on the plains was relatively simple. During the winter, it was school, and during the summers, we pretty much discussed that a couple of weeks ago.

But Sunday’s were special.

Being from a French Catholic household, Sundays always began with the Sunday Mass at St. Francis de Sales Church. The whole family, six of us – father, mother, my three brothers and me. The Mass back then was celebrated in both French and Latin, and it would last well over an hour. Sometimes, my mother had her hands full keeping us focused. My dad wasn’t always with us because he sometimes worked the 7 a.m. – 3 p.m. shift at Hollingsworth & Whitney Paper Mill, in Winslow.

When my dad came with us, we would ride to church. When he didn’t, we would walk.

After church, we would head home and begin preparations for the Sunday dinner. That was always the major meal of the week. It would consist of chicken, ham, beef, or pork with all the potatoes and vegetables, and always…always something sweet to finish it off. Sunday dinner would usually last from noon to about 2 p.m., where everything was discussed from how school was going, how our sports teams were doing, world politics, and, of course, when dad was at Sunday dinner, we got our weekly lesson on how to run a papermaking machine, and the process of making paper. At one point, I was sure I could go to the mill and run that machine myself.

Occasionally, I would go next door – we lived in a duplex with our grandparents living next door. There I would find my grandfather sitting by the radio, listening to his favorite program, La Melodie Francais, hosted by Edgar Poulin, who lived on Water St., in a house located across the street from the present-day Forrest J. Paré VFW post. (By the way, Mr. Poulin was grandfather to The Town Line’s business manager and China resident, Claire Breton.) He would play old French music from Canada. My grandfather, who was a jokester with a great sense of humor, would call the show, La Maladie Francais, which translates to The French Sickness.

My grandfather was Canadian-born, but later became a naturalized U.S. citizen. He would sit in his big, stuffed chair, and do a jig with his feet, without getting out of the chair. It was a pleasure, and entertaining, to watch him do that.

Every once in a while, after church, if the weather was nice, we would take a Sunday drive out to the country. Now, back then, once you reached the end of Silver St., and crossed the bridge, you were in the country, heading up the Oakland Road, to Oakland, which is now called Kennedy Memorial Drive. There was Mea­der’s Horse Farm, on the left, where JFK Plaza is now, and nothing until you reached the Penny Hill Farm, which is now the doctors’ complex and Eye Care of Maine. We would sometimes stop for fresh vegetables. If you headed north up Main St., you would be in the country when you reached what is now Elm Plaza and all the other businesses located on both sides of the road. There was nothing but open fields.

Occasionally, my dad would somehow work up the courage, and after reading the morning paper, call out to the four of us and say, “How about if we go see a Red Sox game?” So, off we’d go, head to Boston on a Sunday morning, and return home that evening. You always had a feeling he would do that after he would read that the Sox were playing a doubleheader that day. Get two games for the price of one. On July 20, 1958, I actually saw Jim Bunning, of the Detroit Tigers, pitch a no-hitter. I also saw Ted Williams hit the 521st and last home run of his career on September 28, 1960, in his last major league at-bat.

Enough of that!

Sundays were always a family day back then, again, when my dad didn’t work the “day shift.” We would all dress up for church, and pretty much stay that way the rest of the day. Doing anything to ruin your “Sunday best” would put you in a deep bunch of trouble. My mother was meticulous, and she expected us to do the same.

It never seemed to rain on Sundays.

Read other installments in this series here.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: Reader’s memory helps fill in the gaps

/1 Comment/in /by
by Roland D. Hallee

Before we continue, I want to share an email I received from Peg Pellerin, who grew up on King St., and filled in some of the gaps I left out when taking our tour of Water St. Here are her memories:

by Peg Pellerin

[Read part one here.]

Oh my gosh, Roland, your articles about the Plains of Waterville, also known as the South End, and many years prior to my time, Frenchville, brought me back to my youth with so many loving memories.

I grew up on King Street from 1952 until my parents moved to Winslow back in 1971. I went to school at Notre Dame, walking to it from the King Street side.

I’ll start with my memories of Water Street, adding a few things that were not in your articles. I don’t remember too much about Water Street from Main Street up to Poissonier’s Market, which was a few doors before the Maine Theater, also known as the Maine Bijou, which was two doors before Daviau’s Pharmacy. I do remember the White House furniture store with the round house behind it. That building now houses Radio Communications and Emery’s Meats [Note: Emery’s has since moved].

Now going back to Poissonier’s Market, formerly Bolduc’s Market, was just after the house that is now Advance 1 Cleaning Services. It’s amazing how many small, family-owned markets there were on Water Street, and they all were able to make a living. There was a laundry service tucked in there somewhere between the Maine Theater and Daviau’s Pharmacy. Dad and I would spend time at Daviau’s to get our comic books so we’d be ready for the next rainy day. Mom and I would get our ice cream sundaes and soda at the fountain. If there wasn’t a prescription for certain ailments, Mr. Daviau, the pharmacist, would figure something out, usually an old-fashioned remedy that doctors weren’t using any more.

You were correct about the aroma from Bolduc’s Bakery, which was on Veterans Court, a narrow street tucked away somewhere in the block. Mom and I would go to the bakery on Saturday mornings to get uncooked dough and she would make “gallets” (?sp) which was similar to fried dough.

Where a brick apartment building is situated between Gray and Gold streets once housed many different types of shops on the street level and apartments on the second floors. I remember walking by those shops and seeing a place that worked on leather and made hats. It was possibly a shoe shop as well. There was a furrier, when having a fur coat was fashionable. There was a small restaurant tucked in there somewhere, a watch repair shop, and some others that I don’t remember what they were.

Gold Street was the next division to the next block which had Belliveau Oil. Across the street from there, on the river side, was Picher’s Furniture and Plumbing. I remember going to both places to pay bills for my grandmother who lived on Libby Court. Before Libby Court there was Notre Dame Church/School and a large apartment building. On the corner of Libby Court and Water Street was Cote’s Market. Ah, that was the place to get your penny candy, which was a penny a piece. “Hurry up and get what you want,” would yell Mr. Cote.

I do remember the South End Café. The owner’s daughter is currently a bus driver for the Winslow School Department. Then there was Gabe Giroux, barber extraordinaire. If there was anything to know about Waterville, especially in the political scene, he knew it. I believe you were correct in saying he probably was the only Republican in that part of town.

Dick’s Variety, owned by Dick Bolduc, sold his business to my parents, Don and Virginia Rodrigue, becoming Don’s Variety. It did go back to Dick’s Variety when Dick Bolduc bought it back from my parents several years later. The empty lot next to Dick’s once was Veilleux’s Grocery Store owned and operated by Larry Veilleux. My father was a meat cutter for Larry. When Larry closed the store, dad became the meat cutter for Vachon’s Market, which was on the corner of Moor and Water streets. The building is no longer there. The fire substation was right next door to the store. My paternal grandmother lived in the apartment building on the opposite corner. It wasn’t too far to go to the store to pick up some things for my grandmother and of course say hello to dad.

Vachon’s closed and dad went on to work for Harris Baking Co., so when my grandmother needed a few groceries and meat, we’d go to Laverdiere’s Market on the corner of Grove and Water streets. Traveling further down Water Street, it became a very narrow road and ended at Couture’s Field, a very famous baseball field back in the day. I’m not even sure if it is used anymore [Note: It is still in use]. Before getting to Grove Street, on the riverside was a hair salon that my paternal grandmother frequented. It was called Bobdot Beauty Shoppe.

South Grove Street, off Grove Street, once had a florist, of which I can’t remember the name [Note: Carter’s Flower Shop]. On the opposite side of Grove Street, which now houses a trailer park, was another ball field and west of that was a town garage that housed Waterville’s school buses. I’m not sure what it is used for now [Note: It was Standard Water Proofing for a while, now Box Drop Mattresses].

Well, that’s all my memory serves, which I’m surprised it served me at all. LOL

Again, thank you for bringing me back to the times of my childhood.

Send your memories of life on the Plains to Roland at townline@townline.org.

Read other articles in this series here.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: How we entertained ourselves pre-TV

/0 Comments/in /by
by Roland D. Hallee

I was 11-years old when we got our first TV in October 1958. It was a black and white floor console. At that time, you could only get three channels – 5, 6 & 8. More on that later.

This week, we’re going to take a look at what we did for entertainment pre-TV and electronic games.

This was especially true during the summer months when school was out. The neighborhood kids, and there were many of us, would gather to decide what we would do. Sometimes we would decide on playing Simon Says, the game where the person says the words “Simon Says” before instructing your next move. If you follow the directions, you get to move forward toward the “goal”. If you moved without the magic words, you had to move backwards. Kind of a silly game, but you’d be surprised how many would move forward without hearing the “Simon Says”.

There were other games, SPUD, Kick the Can, and, of course, good old hide-and-seek, which is now called “man hunt”. We had to get special permission to play that one because it had to be played after dark. We had curfews. Customary to those days, the parents would send you out to play, and tell you, “don’t come home until the street lights come on.”

Those were games played amongst the kids. There was also family night. It was usually Saturday night, after dinner. We lived in a duplex, with my grandparents living next door. When it was time, we would call out to our grandparents to come over. I failed to mention at the time we didn’t have a telephone, either.

The grandparents would come over, we’d sit around the kitchen table, and play Po-Ke-No, a game similar to Bingo, only played with a deck of cards, and a game card before you. We played with plastic chips, and the winner on the night had the most chips. Pretty simple that even an eight-year-old could play. I think I may have caught my grandfather cheating, but I could never prove it, nor did I try.

Sometimes, on Saturday night, we were allowed to stay up to listen to the radio. That was one of the ways our mother could get a handle on things. We were threatened, “If I have to speak to you today, you won’t be allowed to listen to the radio tonight.”

There were two shows we enjoyed: The Inner Sanctum, and Gunsmoke. The Inner Sanctum didn’t really interest me, it was the beginning and the end. The program’s familiar and famed audio trademark was the eerie creaking door which opened and closed the broadcasts. It was kind of a mystery show, and I didn’t understand some of the plots.

Of course, the other was Gunsmoke, with all the adventures of Marshal Matt Dillon. That was my favorite, and to this day, Gunsmoke reruns on cable television are my favorite episodes to watch. That is probably because my most watched TV programs are old westerns, even better in black and white.

In the winter, there was sledding down the “Jinjine Hill” (Don’t ask where the name came from). A street, with a steep hill at the end, that existed back then connected Lockwood Alley with Silver St., that came out across the street from the old Morning Sentinel building. It was super fast and sometimes treacherous to navigate. Again, the whole idea was to see who could coast the farthest at the bottom of the hill. There were many a collision with an iron fence that surrounded a house that stood at the bottom of the hill, a little to the left. If you didn’t make that adjustment at the bottom of the hill, you were probably headed home for some repairs.

Also, during the summer, many would gather at Lockwood Field, a state-of-the-art Little League field located off Oxford St. The spot is now a parking lot. Many a game was played there, and, of course, we all tried to be Mickey Mantle and hit home runs. The furniture store across the left field fence had an inviting showroom window facing home plate. Many tried, but no one succeeded.

One day, one of the kids in the neighborhood, who was extremely large for his age, said he could hit a home run over the “Round House”, located at the corner of Water and Kennebec streets. “P-2” as he was affectionally known (not Robert Michaud, who was the owner of Poulin’s Optician on Main St. in later years), launched a baseball that day that cleared the roof of the building and landed in a parking lot where the old KFC building now stands. I don’t recall if we ever found that ball. That was a feat that many tried to emulate, but could never accomplish.

Those were some of the ways we entertained ourselves pre-electronics.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: School days in the ‘50s and ‘60s

/0 Comments/in , , /by

St. Francis de Sales elementary school, left, and the nun’s convent on right. There were some classrooms in the convent. (photo courtesy of Hallee family album)

by Roland D. Hallee

Let’s now proceed with what life was like on The Plains in the 1950s and ‘60s.

The Lockwood-Dutchess Textile Mill (the cotton mill as it was known), which was housed in three large, brick buildings at the foot of Main St., was in full operation. Many of the people in the area worked at the mill, and walked to work every day. Also, Hollingsworth & Whitney Paper Mill (H&W as it was known), was also in its hey-day, and many fathers worked there. They would walk to work, crossing the Two-Cent Bridge on foot, because not many had cars. My father and grandfather were two of the few in the neighborhood with wheels. My grandfather owned a pink and charcoal Packard Hornet, and my dad a blue and white, two-tone Buick.

Many of the mothers were stay-at-home moms that saw the children off to school every day. Nearly all of the kids in my neighborhood attended St. Francis de Sales parochial school, which was located on the corner of Elm and Winter streets. Every parish had a parochial and public school. There were three parishes in Waterville, Notre Dame, St. Francis and Sacred Heart. In the south end there was Notre Dame School, on Water St., and the public South Grammar School, on Gold St., in addition to St. Francis.

Back then, there were no buses unless you lived more than a mile from school. So most of us would gather in the morning and walk together. The same was true after school, which let out at 3 p.m. (Can you imagine that?)

The school was taught by nuns of the Ursuline order, and they were rather strict, especially on the boys. I have my theory as to why, but I will keep that to myself.

The girls would go to the school through the eighth grade, while the boys were sent to another school after the fifth grade. That would be St. Joseph’s School, where Notre Dame Church is now, as has been mentioned in past articles.

Of course, back then, I guess only in parochial schools, it was not called kindergarten, but the “baby grade”. You had to be five years old by October 15 to begin to attend. I turned five years old on October 22, so I had to wait a whole year to begin school. My parents pleaded with the nuns, saying I was ready for school, but they would have no part of “violating” the rule. It was set in stone.

Being almost six years old when I started school, I was a little older, and somewhat further ahead than the others. I just didn’t know it.

The “Brothers” School, near St. Francis elementary, where boys would go from sixth to eighth grades, until it was razed in late ‘50s. (photo courtesy of Hallee family album)

Actually, before the boys were confined to only the fifth grade, and shipped off to St. Joseph’s, there was another school across the parking lot from the parochial school, that was taught by the “brothers”. However, by the time I reached sixth grade, that school was shuttered, and eventually torn down. I don’t recall the name of the school, I guess because I was too young.

Since we all walked to and from school, some of the older boys – fifth graders – were assigned to be “patrol boys”. That is we wore white sashes, with a badge attached, designating us as crossing guards. We could not stop traffic, but we would escort the students across the street from the school. I was assigned the blue badge, meanning the captain of the corps. It didn’t really mean much.

Getting back to the neighborhood, we were a close knit group, and I can’t really tell you how many of us there were. We were a lot. Most families consisted of three to four, or more children, all blue collar families, where discipline was in order. Not that some of us didn’t get into some kind of trouble now and then. Nothing serious, mind you.

Next time, we’ll take a look at what we did back then for entertainment, minus television, and electronic devices. We made our own fun.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: Let’s take a stroll down Summer St.

/0 Comments/in /by

A Hood’s ice cream truck makes a delivery at C.P. Hallee’s Market on Summer St. Note the Shell sign on top. (photo courtesy of Hallee family album)

by Roland D. Hallee

Well, we’ve been down the whole length of Water St. Now we’ll move a little to the west, and take a stroll down Summer St.

The place of note is at the corner of Summer and Sherwin streets, and the home of former Maine Governor Clinton A. Clauson, who died in office on December 30, 1959. He was the 66th governor of Maine.

I remember that day well. It was in the early morning hours, and I had a paper route at the time. My younger brother and I had just received our papers for the day, and getting ready to embark on our daily route, when a truck from the Morning Sentinel came around, and the occupants took them away from us. At the age of 12 years old, I didn’t quite know what to do. They later returned with a newer edition, announcing the passing of the governor as the page one banner headline.

The home was a large, stately, white building with a wrap-around porch that faced both of those streets. However, in recent decades, the home has been altered into apartment units, and the magnificent porch has been removed. A shame in my estimation.

Summer Street, at one time, was the “elite” street of the south end before the construction and extension of Silver Street, and the homes to many prominent Waterville citizens.

On the right side of the street, near the intersection of Redington St., was the home of the Rancourt family, at 9 Summer St. They owned Rancourt’s Market, on Monument Street, in Winslow.

On the south side of Redington St., on the corner was the home and office of Dr. Breard. That home burned several years ago and has been replaced by a single family home.

On the east side of the street was the home of the Boulet family, who owned a lumber business in Fairfield.

Now, one significant place we have not visited sits a little off the beaten path. Located on Veteran Court, between Summer and Water streets, was Bolduc’s Bakery. Boy, how those early mornings greeted us with the aroma of fresh baked bread wafting through the air.

Located on the corner of Veteran Court, was another stately home, surrounded by a tall hedge. I never did know who lived there, but back in those days, I figured it must be someone rich.

Going back to the west side, located where the parking lot is now for New Dimension Federal Credit Union, was Pomerleau’s Market. The rest of the street to the intersection with Gold Street was lined with single family and multi-unit apartment houses.

On the corner of Summer and Gold was the location of Larry’s Variety, owned by Larry Bouchard, which later was named Ron’s Variety, after its new owner, Ron Gilbert.

As we proceed south along Summer St., opposite Kimball St., was C. P. Hallee’s Market and Shell gas station. That store, which overlooked the South End Arena, was owned by my father, Conrad P. Hallee. Like all the other markets in the area, it was kind of a general store with varied sundry items, and a meat counter, and, of course, the gas pumps in front.

The store was abandoned with the outbreak of World War II, when my dad joined the Army. The old building was still standing in the mid-’60s, because I used to walk past it everyday on my way to St. Joseph’s School for Boys. That spot is now overgrown with vegetation.

The rest of the street was lined with single family and multi-unit buildings, all the way to Grove St., and Pine Grove Cemetery.

One of them, located on the west side, was home to the Bolduc family, which produced many of Waterville High School’s star hockey players, including Dan Bolduc, who went on to play in the National Hockey League with the Detroit Red Wings, and later with the Hartford Whalers.

Summer Street wasn’t considered part of The Plains, setting on a little higher ground, but played a very significant role in the south end as a whole. The neighborhood, like Water St., was inhabited mostly my Canadian immigrants and their families.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: A tour of The Plains – part 2

/2 Comments/in , /by

Water St., circa 1940s, looking north. The Esso sign is where Bilodeau’s Garage was located. (photo courtesy of colby.edu/mapping-waterville/)

by Roland D. Hallee

(Read part 1 here.)

This week we will continue our tour of The Plains. Last week we left off at Gold Street. From this point on it gets pretty simple.

One of the first buildings you will come across on the east side of Water St. is the original home of Jean Baptiste Mathieu, presumably the first permanent FrenchCanadian settler in Waterville and his wife, Sarah Dostie, who came here from Beauceville, Québec, in 1827, and settled in their Water Street home in 1831. The rest of the street on that side is made up of single family homes and many duplex and apartment buildings.

However, on the west side, from Gold St., there was Bilodeau’s Service Station where you could buy your gas, and have your car repaired (That building is now part of KVCAP’s campus).

Next , setting a little ways back, was the Notre Dame Church, on the second floor of the building, and Notre Dame Parochial School on the ground floor and basement.

Next came the South End Café. That establishment was famous for their fried clams. My dad would sometimes come home from working the 3 – 11 shift at Hollingsworth & Whitney Paper mill, in Winslow, later Scott Paper Co., with some clams. We could only watch, if we were still awake at that hour.

Next door to the café was Gabe’s Barber Shop. Back when I was in the sixth and seventh grades, I attended St. Joseph’s School for Boys on Summer St., between Kimball and Preston streets (where the Notre Dame Church now stands). It was either every week, or every other week, on Wednesday, my father would give me 25-cents, and I would walk to Gabe’s Barber Shop during lunch, for a haircut. A couple of times, when I felt I didn’t need a haircut, I would skip the trip and pocket the quarter. My dad, somehow, would always know.

Another thing about Gabe Giroux, who was a large, rotund man, was that he was the only Republican, that I can remember, who was ever elected to the Waterville Board of Aldermen, from Ward 7. That was before Waterville went to a council form of government.

A little further down was Dick’s Market, now closed, but still stands, with the sign in front, but is actually the location of Stripes-A-Lot.

From there, on the corner of Halde St., was a house that was rumored to have an active still in the basement during Prohibition. That was proved to be true when the home was demolished and a “secret” room was discovered in the basement.

Next to the house, was a Waterville Fire Department substation. Across the street was the Second Baptist Church, which is still there today. More homes lined the street until the corner of Grove St. At the corner of the south side of Grove St., was LaVerdiere’s Market, a little larger store than the small markets.

Museum In The Street plaque of the South End Arena.

Now we’re going to return to Gold St., and the old Notre Dame Church, which is now KVCAP. Looking west, and across King St., was the South End Arena, an Olympic-size outside ice skating and hockey rink, where many of Waterville High School’s star hockey players honed their skills. We were affectionally – or not – known as the South End Rink Rats. Many varsity games were also played there before the construction of the Alfond Arena on the Colby College campus.

Many days and nights were spent at that arena. During the winter, it wasn’t unusual for me to come home from school, drop the books, grab the hockey equipment, and head out to the rink. The two years I attended St. Joseph’s School, it was common for me to bring my hockey equipment to school, and go directly to the rink after school, and not return home until after dark.

During my high school years, many evenings were spent, after hockey, to participate in public skating with the girls, after which we scraped the ice surface by hand, and “flooded” the rink after it closed at 10 p.m.

The founder, and caretaker of the rink, which was on his property, was Waterville Police Captain Arthur Gagne. To those of us who took advantage of the facility, it wasn’t South End Arena, it was “Art’s.” Gagne took care of the rink, mostly from his own money, with the assistance of a small stipend from the city. He also was the chaperone, and he had a zero tolerance policy for any unacceptable behavior. We all loved “Art”.

We have now seen an overview of what it looked like on Water Street in the 1950s and 1960s. Now, I must confess: we are talking about 60-plus years ago. The mind doesn’t quite remember everything, so I’m sure I have omitted some places. My apologies to those I missed.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: A tour of ‘The Plains’ – Part 1

/4 Comments/in , /by

The Plains, circa 1930, with one of the three- story apartment houses that lined the west bank of the Kennebec River, on the left. (photo courtesy of Roland D. Hallee)

by Roland D. Hallee

Before we go into the era of growing up on The Plains, in Waterville, maybe we should take a tour of the area in our “way back machine”. This will take a little time, so plan on a couple of weeks.

Let’s start at the northern end of the south end, if that makes sense?

If we start along the river, there is the massive complex of the Lockwood-Dutchess Textile Mill, commonly called the cotton mill. It consisted of three large buildings, one on top of the hill was three stories, and the larger one at the bottom of the hill, five stories. In between, stood a smaller one story building, all three constructed of brick. The mill went “nonprofit” in the early 1950s. My grandfather worked there until his retirement in 1952. My grandmother also worked there for a short period before she married my grandfather, a story for later.

Across the street, was a building that contained the Pine View Furniture Store, and the famous “round house” behind it.

Proceeding on the west side of the street, next was a parking lot with a large barn. From what I recollect, the barn was used for storage, although I never did see the inside. The barn was eventually razed to make way for the new “Kentucky Fried Chicken” store.

Next, was an up-and-down duplex, and four unit tenement building, both owned by the Busque family. Alongside that was another apartment building, with many garages that spanned from Water St. to Green St.

Rodrigue’s Market was next in line, where you could buy everything from cigarettes to meat. The market had upstairs apartments. Ma Roy’s Tavern stood next door. (One thing I remember well is that her son was named Roy Roy.) I can still remember going there with my dad, enjoying an orange soda while he indulged in a “beverage”.

A three story apartment building was next, although it sat back aways from the street, followed by Pete’s Market, another mom and pop-style store. Why it was called Pete’s I don’t know. The owner’s name was not Pete. It was Bob Coté.

Some more houses were next, with another small market before a three story multi-unit tenement, before ascending on the world-reknowned, Chez Parée, a very popular watering hole on the weekends with live music. On the corner, where there is a parking lot now, was Leighteau’s Market.

Cross Sherwin Street, and there stood Dot’s Market. Can you believe, back then, within a 150 – 200 yard span there were five markets? Not to mention a sixth on top of Sherwin Hill, named Veilleux’s Market. Ah, but we’re not done yet.

Next to Dot’s Market was Red Star Laundry, now a parking lot near Scotty’s, which was earlier known as Dot’s. Scotty’s Pizza began its run across the street from Dot’s in the 1960s, in a building that was so small, it could not accommodate more than two customers at once. Otherwise, you had -to go outside. Across Redington St., was the Redington Street School, now the Forrest J. Pare VFW.

Then came a string of houses and apartment buildings, especially on the east side of Water St., where there was a string of three-story apartment buildings, all the way to Gold St. These apartment buildings stood on stilts that hovered over the Kennebec River. All of those tenement buildings are now gone from the river bank, razed back in the ‘60s. Out of site, some of the foundations are still there today. There, at the end of the row of apartment buildings, was Picher’s Furniture Store, directly across from Gold St.

On the east side of the street, almost diagnolly across from Scotty’s, stood the home of Edgar and Yvonne Poulin, Edgar being a well-known radio celebrity in Waterville (WTVL), whose Sunday radio program was called La Melodie Francais, and maternal grandparents to The Town Line’s business manager, Claire Breton. Edgar would play French music from Canada, to which my grandfather would dance while sitting in his chair.

Let’s go back across the street, to the west side. Not far from the Redington St. School, was, you guessed it, another market. I don’t recall the name of that one. Then, a few more houses before we hit the part where the Maine State Theater stood, and Daviau’s Drug Store on the corner of Gray St. It was the forerunner of LaVerdiere’s Drug Stores, and pretty much carried everything you will find in a CVS or Walgreen’s today.

Then, there were more houses and apartments to the corner of Gold St. Most of these dwellings are now gone.

So, we’ve traveled a ways this week along the northern stretch of The Plains. The Gold Street area is about the halfway point.

This part of Waterville, one of the oldest settled areas, was mostly occupied by the Franco-American community. People who immigrated from Canada to work in the mills, in search of a better life. As you can tell so far, and will learn more next week, this section of Waterville was pretty much self-sufficient. In those days, there was no need to venture “downtown”, unless you were going to a clothing store. Pretty much all you needed was right there on The Plains.

And, besides, not many had cars back then.

Next week: From Bilodeau’s Garage, to LaVerdiere’s Market.

LIFE ON THE PLAINS: An icon on lower Main Street

/0 Comments/in /by
by Roland D. Hallee

This is the beginning of a series of articles on growing up on The Plains, in Waterville, in the 1950s and 1960s. The Plains was a flat area along the Kennebec River that stretched from the end of lower Main St., south toward Grove St., and slightly beyond to Couture softball field. I was born into a French-Canadian Catholic family, in the south end of Waterville.

But, before we get into that, there was one significant chapter in my growing up that must be acknowledged.

Just north of The Plains, at the most southern end of Main St., stood an iconic landmark known, pretty much, nationwide – The Levine’s Store for Men and Boys.

In my growing up years, there wasn’t a stitch of clothing I owned that did not come from Levine’s. Back in those days, there was no Walmart, Kohl’s or Target. When you needed clothing, you went to the local haberdashery, picked out your item, had them fitted, and tailored to your size and specifications, at no extra charge.

One of the main reasons we went to Levine’s – there were other clothing stores, Stern’s Department Store, and Dunham’s of Maine to name a couple – but for our family, it was Levine’s.

My mother’s youngest brother, Leonel “Nel” Libby was a sales clerk at the store, and he was our go-to-guy. Anytime, anyone in our family walked through the front door, we were not approached by other sales clerks, but they would go looking for “Uncle Nel” – You could hear them yelling for “Libby” throughout the store.

I remember when I was about 10 years old, my father took me to Levine’s to buy my first suit. Actually, it was more like a sports jacket. It was a red checkered coat that was worn with black pants. Boy, did I feel like I was the cat’s meow with that snappy jacket. Even took it on trips to Canada.

Levine’s had the latest fashions.

During my sophomore year in high school, I was finally able to buy my own clothes after I got a job working in the mailroom at the Morning Sentinel. The rage at the time were khaki “chinos”. That was something my mother would not buy for us. We always wore corduroy or flannel pants.

How proud I was of those chinos. I now looked like one of the guys in school. Even the girls noticed.

Until the day came when they went into the laundry. Before I go any further, you have to understand my mother was a very meticulous person. Never any dust on the furniture, floors that shined all the time, and laundry that was ironed perfectly before being put away.

The style for wearing chinos back then was more like boot cut jeans of today. No creases. Well, my mother went and ironed them, putting a clean, crisp pleat in the legs. Destroyed! I couldn’t wear those to school again. Even though they came from Levine’s.

Levine’s store, founded in 1891, has been closed since 1996, as have the other two stores. Even my Uncle Nel has passed on. Something is definitely missing downtown.

So, descendants of William Levine, founder, and his sons Lewis “Ludy” and Percy “Pacy”, have come together to remember the store and its location in Waterville. After moving the store to its most recent location on lower Main St., early in the 20th century, the store expanded in the 1960s to the former site of the Crescent Hotel, which was located on the traffic circle that existed in the middle of Main St., Water St., Spring St., and Bridge St.

Levine’s Store for Men and Boys served as a beacon of business development and community gathering in downtown Waterville for 105 years. After closing its doors in 1996 the building lay dormant until it was razed. location is now the site of the newly-built Lockwood Hotel, which is owned by Colby College. Levine’s was internationally known. Colby students and satisfied customers spread word across the globe about Levine’s. Thus, Levine’s Store is inescapably tied to Colby College in putting Waterville on the international map.”

Descendants of the Levine family have created a fundraiser to preserve the family’s legacy with a plaque to be erected in the southern park.

The GoFundMe organizer says: “It is time to memorialize and honor the legacy of Levine’s Store and the memories of Ludy, Pacy, and their nephew Howard Miller. In partnership with the Mayor of the City of Waterville and with Colby College, the descendants of Ludy, Pacy and Howard have banded together to honor the store and the Levine family with parks on both sides of the hotel, and with a special naming of the hotel’s conference room. An exceptional dedication ceremony is currently being planned for mid-July 2022. Colby College is funding the development of the memorials that will live in the northern park and in the conference room. It is the family’s responsibility to fund the memorial for the southern park.”

To view the GoFundMe, please visit: https://gf.me/v/c/z4lq/levines-park.