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

Back in the 1950s and ‘60s, New Year’s Day and following, didn’t really mean much to us kids. We would still be on Christmas vacation, although it was about to end abruptly on January 2.

Also, during those years, winters were harsher than they are now. By January 1 snow would have accumulated to relatively high levels, the ponds – and our backyard ice rink – were frozen solid and ready for winter sports, although I don’t recall snowmobiles back then. I think the Bombardier Ski-Doo was just being introduced in a rather primitive form.

Also, I would notice how the adults, every time they would run into each other – at church, the grocery store, shoe repair shops, etc. – would always greet each other with the “Happy New Year”. It would go on for weeks into late January. Didn’t they realize New Year’s was January 1, and not January 20?

Anyway, life was pretty much dull and routine during those early months of the new year. We did look forward to – in a way — going back to school to show off our new clothes we received at Christmas to our friends. Or maybe we got new skates, hockey stick, or a new sled. We really weren’t too much into showing off our new clothes.

The actual new year’s eve celebrations weren’t all that exciting to us, until we got a little older and were allowed to stay up until midnight to watch the ball go down on Times Square, in New York City. And to our parents, the crème to la crème, was the playing of Aulde Lang Syne, by Guy Lombardo and his orchestra. It just seemed to put an exclamation point on the whole evening. And we couldn’t figure out why everyone went around kissing everyone. Yew!

Of course, then there was new year’s day, when my mother wouldn’t miss turning on the television set to watch the Tournament of Roses parade, from Pasadena, California. She wouldn’t miss it for the world. And, oh, what a thrill when we got a color TV, and she could watch it in all its glory. Once the parade was done, it was a day full of college football – the Sugar Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, the Orange Bowl, and, of course, the Grand Daddy of them all, the Rose Bowl. Today, there are dozens of bowl games played from mid-December into mid-January. Not the same.

I don’t recall too many new year eves in the ‘50s, but I do remember one in particular. The night 1959 turned into 1960. Wow! we were entering into the space age and for some reason, 1960 was the beginning of something great. For one thing, while attending parochial school, we were told that in 1960 the Pope would divulge the content of a secret letter that would foretell the future. Well, 1960 came and went, and we didn’t hear anything about it.

So, times have changed, and Guy Lombardo is gone, and, unfortunately, so has his music. The midnight celebrations now just aren’t the same. I guess New Year’s Eve is for the young – or the young at heart. My wife and I, in our 70s, still stay up with friends and watch the old year go out and the new one come in.

by Roland D. Hallee

Christmas was a time for family gatherings on The Plains in the 1950s and ‘60s.

Of course, growing up, once you became aware of your surroundings, Santa Claus was always the big hit of the season. Our father, who worked at Hollingsworth & Whitney, later Scott Paper Co., would take us to the Community Building, on College Ave. The Community Building was actually the fieldhouse on the old Colby College Campus, which had moved to Mayflower Hill around 1952.

The mill would put on a gala children’s Christmas party, with the “Big Guy” as the feature. We would stand in line to wait your turn to sit on his lap and divulge to him your wishes for Christmas gifts. Of course, that was so your parents would hear. I can only remember one gift there – you only received a gift if you were younger than 12 years old – was a briefcase. It still boggles my mind what a 9-year-old would do with a briefcase. My dad ended up using it.

In the early days, Christmas was held in our living room. My mother would decorate a Christmas tree that our father had reworked by taking branches from one area of the tree, to fill a bare spot in another area. Christmas morning, our grandparents would come over, and we would do the gift exchange while our mother prepared dinner. Sometimes, just to prolong the anticipation, our dad would wait until our mother was ready to be with us. Which was mostly always.

As our mother grew older, she didn’t want to decorate a tree any more, and besides, there was this new invention called an artificial tree. It was silver, about four-feet tall, stood on a table, and was illuminated with a flood light that had a revolving colored wheel. Kind of cool, but so commercial.

In the meantime, our father had finished the basement into a “rumpus” room, and eventually, Christmas would be held down there so not to clutter the living room.

Our parents and grandparents would go to midnight Mass, and us children stayed home and waited – by then the two older brothers were teenagers in high school. That was when I found out there was no such thing as Santa, when I saw all the gifts piled behind the couch. I was 9-years-old. That was kind of traumatic at the time.

Upon their return from midnight Mass, my mother would put tourtière pies in the oven, and the soirée began. Until we had reached the age of 14, we would have to go to bed, – house rules – but the party continued into the early morning hours. Christmas gifts were not distributed on Christmas Eve. Technically, after midnight Mass, it was Christmas Day, but they didn’t see it that way.

That was probably one of the greatest disappointments in my young life. Classmates were always chosen to be the “angels” and the “shepherds” carrying the baby Jesus down the aisle in the church. Pretty much always at the head of my class, I figured I was a shoe-in for the task. But I was never chosen. For some reason, the nuns decided I was not worthy. I didn’t go to a midnight Mass until I was an adult, and married.

Enough about that.

I guess every family has its own Christmas tradition, we were no different. Of course, like anything else, as time moved on, and grandparents passed away, and parents grew older, then passed on, things changed. However, here in the 21st century, long passed the 1950s and ‘60s, we develop our own traditions, and can only hope they get passed down to the next generations to remember their Christmases with parents, grandparents and great-grandparents.