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I found the following directory
listings:
1905:
FEWER, Edward, salesman, r. 1833 Hyde
Thomas, condtr, Cal. St. RR, r 1833 Hyde
1908/09:
FEWER, Edward P., lab., r. 374 26th av
Thomas, gardener, r. 422 8th av
Walter, refiner, US Mint, r. 350 9th av
1909/10:
FEWER, Walter, refiner, US Mint, r. 704 8th av
1911:
FEWER, E., cond., r. 374 26th av
Thos., lab., r. 422 8th av
Walter, refiner, r. 1152 Clement
in the 1982 phone book were:
FEWER, B. (no address listed)
Brian, 731 41st av
Robt, 731 41st av
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The earliest memory that I have of Dad is when I was about
three years old. It could not have been that I was older, as
I was still the only child.
The memory is delightful even now eighty two years
later.
It is of Dad washing me just before bedtime. I was sitting
on the old wooden drain board in the kitchen of the original
two room shack, which had been 'improved' just that last
year. Improved from what actually was only a floor and a
roof with walls of tarpaper. By the time I reached the age
of three, wood had been put on over the tarpaper walls,
doors and windows installed and a cold water faucet over a
sink. Not that I was being washed with cold water. Oh no,
the water
was wonderfully warm and Dad had a wonderful soft touch with
the face cloth. When I occasionally use a blade razor,
instead of an electric shaver, and run a warm face cloth
over my face, it brings back memories.., and tears.
The water was warm, as I learned later, in the wood burning
kitchen stove, which had a 'water-back' This water-back was
a few short lengths of water pipe installed in the fire box.
As the water heated it flowed into a thirty gallon tank
behind the stove.
The wood burned in the kitchen stove was chopped by Dad.
When I got a little older I piled the wood as he chopped.
The wood obtained from a all over San Francisco. Seems Dad
spotted buildings where there had been a fire, or were being
torn down and offered to cart the old lumber away. He always
knew where to borrow a horse and wagon. I was taken on a few
of these trips.
One I remember well, which was told on old KGO radio. About
1917 Dad was a conductor on Car 42 of the Hyde Street Cable
Car Line. On his trips up and down Hyde Street, he noticed
that one of the old mansions on Hyde Street was being torn
down. He stopped the car in the middle of the block and went
to the wrecking site to ask the foreman of DOLAN'S wrecking
crew if he could haul some of the lumber away. The foreman
said ... 'yes, take the old outside lumber but leave all of
the frescoes and inside wood. A couple of days later Dad
borrowed a horse and wagon and took me down to ''help' load
the lumber on the wagon, Well, in a couple of hours the
wagon was more than full of real choice fire-wood-lumber.
Dad clucked the horse out onto Hyde Street and started up
the hill. Anyone that knows San Francisco knows Hyde Street
is quite a hill. And at that time is was paved with cobble
stones. The poor horse, with its tremendous load kept
slipping on the stones. We, I mean Dad, did not dare to turn
and head down hill... we would have landed in the Bay. So he
pulled the horse and wagon and lumber and me over to the
side of the street. There we waited for the next Cable Car
to come up the hill. Dad flagged it down. Of course he knew
both the conductor and the Gripman. In a few minutes the
three of them had a rope tied to the back of the car and the
other end to the front of the wagon. I can still hear the
horse saying "thank God" and this was before long before Ed
the Talking Horse. In a few minutes we were at the top of
the hill and on our own and on the way to 26th and Clement
with a load of fine lumber, soon to be converted in
fire-wood by Dad.
Dad liked to chop wood. Perhaps he worked off some of his
frustrations by this physical activity.. .and god knows he
had aplenty of them, as only he and I knew about. ..and now
I only know. He was without a doubt the most malaligned man
I ever knew. As far as I know the only 'exercise' that Dad
ever engaged in was chopping wood. He chopped and I piled.
Oh, he did introduced Rounders to the neighborhood, but
actually he did not play very often. So where he got his
physical strength I don't know. He was the strongest man I
ever knew. Most people resisted shaking hand with him a
second time... .and he did not squeeze hard to be mean..
there was not a mean bone in his body.. .he could carry
tremendous weights of wood, as he did in carrying drift logs
from Bakers Beach, for firewood naturally.
Often Dad would take me for a walk down to China Beach and
we would wade in the cold water on the soft sand. He often
said that if one would walk in the cold water every day he
would never grow old
When I was very young Dad was a sewer cleaner. He and a
couple of other fellows would walk about the City every day
with long shovels, maybe ten or twelve feet long with the
blades set at a sharp angle. They would pull the grates of
at each corner and dig out the silt and other debris Pile it
up on the corner awaiting another crew with a horse and
wagon. That job did not suit Dad and he got another one at
Kinghams Ham & Bacon Co. smoking hams. Soon he moved up
to Conductor on old #42.
As an education, and entertainment I was once in awhile give
a couple of nickels to pay my streetcar fare down and back
to Hyde Street where I would wait for old 42. When 42 hove
in site I would climb aboard and ride to the end of the line
and back, with instructions to memorize the names of the
street. Dad would very somberly collect a nickel from me.
This I could not understand, believing that he should let me
ride free. Later I was told that I was a passenger and had
to pay like everyone else besides there might be an
INSPECTOR on board, watching.
About this time....1921 Uncle Den Devine (Mom's brother) got
on the Police Force, as it was called in those days. He came
out one evening to tell us about the job and to show off his
paraphernalia, We were in rapt attention over the star
shivered at the night-stick and billie club could hardly
look at the pistol and found the handcuffs very inter-
esting, especially when Uncle Den demonstrated them to all
of us by handcuffing Dads hands together, to then remember
he had left the keys at home. With mush embarrassment Dad
had to ride the Clement Line streetcar down to Uncle Den's
home on Larken Street....like a criminal yet.
Dad wanted to be a Policeman nothing would stop him. Still a
conductor on the Hyde line, he started Civil Service night
school. After a few months notices were posted that the
Fireman's examination and then the Police examination were
about to be held. Dad took and passed both of the
examinations. However he scored a little higher on the
fireman's and was soon called up. He really was not anxious
to be a Fireman, but it paid better than THE Cable Cars and
besides the hours were much better in that he would no
longer have to get up at four thirty every morning as a
Conductor, and would no longer have to cover his chest with
newspaper before putting on his shirt. The Cars were bitter
cold in the mornings as they were wide open to the wind and
fog of San Francisco.
So Dad became a Fireman.... for about a year, then his name
came to the top of the list on the Police roll. So I'll
never forget, the excitement was terrific...his dream come
true-he was in Blue.
There was never a man more proud of his uniform. At five
foot eight he stood a foot taller, and commanded and got the
respect due the uniform and badge from those residents of
his varied Beats.
As long as the subject of his height has been open, this
would be a good place to remind the reader that the minimum
height required to be a San Francisco Police Officer was
five feet eight inches. Dad was not quite five feet eight,
and this showed up on the physical examination. Imagine he
passed the written exam fairly high, passed all the physical
tests of running, lifting, carrying, jumping with high
scores and now he is faced with the fact that he is a little
too short. Well the examining doctor was a human being. He
told Dad to go home and stay in bed for a week, have someone
pull his legs a couple of times a day and then come back for
a re-exam And that's what Dad did, We kids pulled several
times everyday. When the day of the exam came we called
friend who owned a truck... . in the back of that truck we
hauled Dad down to the examining depot and almost carried
him in for the second measurer Needless to say he passed the
test and was taken home to shrink back to hi original five
feet seven and seven eighths inches.
In the early day's on 26th Avenue Dad grew dahlias and
potatoes. All thought the Richmond District the soil was
virgin sand. . we had better potatoes than anywhere in
Ireland… . and we had the best, largest, most colorful
dahlias anywhere. We also had the largest and most abundant
blossoms of Baby Roses, Year long there at least two hundred
Baby Roses (Probably today called Tea Roses). Men on their
way to work, walking down 26th Avenue would stop and pick
buttoneirs every morning .
There are two other occupations of Dad's that I remember
well. He cut our hair. . at least the hair of the three
boys. I think Gertie and Helen escaped. In the beginning the
victim sat on a stool in the kitchen and Dad hacked away
with a comb and scissors. As he gained more expertise, and a
few dollars, a hand activated clippers was added. Seems that
if the clipper was moved faster than it was squeezed it
would pull the hair and we would yelp. I once accused him of
pulling my hair out instead of cutting it.
Dad also repaired our shoes. He bought a shoe-makers last
and a box of tacks. The last had three or four different
size cast iron shoe's onto which our various size shoes
would be fitted and a piece of leather would be tacked on.
One word about the leather. At this period Dad was a
Conductor of old #42 Cable Car. These cars were cable-cars,
that is there was a moving cable under the tracks, that when
hooked onto would pull the car. Movement of this cable was
produced by a big motor in the basement of the car-barn In
this process large leather belts were used. They were more
than a foot wide and many feet long. Frequently the belts
would break and have to be repaired. Dad got the leather
scraps and used them for shoe leather. This leather after
having been used as a motor belt was as hard as iron, and
when used as shoe leather would last longer than the
original.
Dad was a strong, physical man, but he had one weakness.
That was his skin. Policemen took their turns at traffic
duty, and when Dad's turn came to direct traffic, say at the
corner of Fulton and the Great Highway, he would come home
the color of a tomato. His body was the whitest white, and
could not be exposed to the sun. This maybe one of the
reasons that he never went on picnics or summer vacations
with us. I can remember once, we were all up at Guernewood
Park for a month's summer enjoyment (more about that later)
and Dad came up on the train for a weekend. . I'm sure he
miserable the entire time. He sat on the beach with us
dressed in a blue serge suit complete with white shirt and
tie, only sans a jacket. Sweating and turning red .
That was his one and only vacation with us. We used to go on
picnics every Sunday. These started shortly after we bought
our first car, in the Spring of 1923. I would phone, oh yes,
by then we had a phone, The number was 108. Anyway, on
Friday evening I would phone various friends, who had cars
in the family, such as Noel Waite, Pinky Robinson, Al
Pottero to see if they could go the next Sunday, always
asking what room they would have in the car for anyone who
did not have a car, but would like to go. Then I would call
those who did not have a car, who (Whom) would like to go,
such as Rosy Rosenberg, Seymore Pearson, Fritz Pfeffer and
those whom I have forgotten. We would arrange to meet, after
Mess, and caravan to the picnic. This caravanning was
important, because three or four cars could not be expected
to go about forty miles without trouble. . . . and it was
always nice to have help with the trouble.
So we would gather Sunday morning about eleven o'clock and
drive to the picnic area which would usually be Woodside
Creek, Searsville, Half Moon Bay or once in awhile Almaden.
We had GREAT TIMES. Every body brought their specialty food
and we feasted like kings. Hiked and swam and sometimes
shot, with our twenty-twos, at ground squirrels (never ever
hitting a one,) I can not ever remember Dad going on one of
these picnics.
Before we had the car a RED SAXON (More about that Later). .
Dad and the entire family, which became more numerous as
time went by, would take Sunday walks, almost always to the
Park. Of course to San Franciscans there is only one park. .
Golden Gate Park. Sometimes we would go to the concerts at
the open air pavilion near the Conservatory. Many other
times we would walk to a lake near twenty forth and Fulton,
take our lunch and have a day walking thru the bambow jungle
and trying to catch a fish in the lake. A great day but
always a long walk home.
As I remember from about the age of three years, Dad always
'played' Santa at Christmas. Early on, he was Santa only to
me and Mom. At what could be his first performance we had a
fire. There was a Christmas Tree established on the kitchen
table, decorated with homemade ornaments and lighted with
candles. Well, Santas beard (Of cotton) got too near a
candle and every thing light up. But Santa being omniscient,
grabbed a pan from under the sink and doused the flames.
Little Ed was asking the next day, 'How did Santa know where
the pans were ?"
Dad ran this Santa routine for about thirty five years,
before brother Dib took over the job.
Dad set the pattern for Dib to follow, he would tour the
neighborhood for all jolly good fellows to follow him, all
the while singing, down to 374 - 26th Avenue, where we would
all gather at Mom's candle light tree, for small gifts and a
few good swallows, and then off to Midnite Mass. There is no
doubt that a few milk-warmers were enticed to follow.
At a very early age I can remember Dad & Mom and I going
to the local movie house on Friday nights. . . in a short
while Dib was added and very soon Beau came along. The movie
house was at 23rd and Clement, and was named The
Nicloludium.. . That's exactly what is was. The NICK and you
could get in for a nick, or a nickel.
They had great movies. W.S. Hart . who NEVER kissed the GIRL
. Charlie
Chaplin. Fattie Arbuckle W.C. FIELDS and so many others,
Trials of
Pauline., .Fu-Manchu. . . ( if the author needs more I will
re-search).
As we filed to the theater. . . Mom, Dib (maybe Beau) and I,
we push and pull so that we could sit any where but next to
Dad. He was exuberant His laughter carried thru out the
theater, in fact even started the laugh. And just in case
you, sitting next to him, did not catch the joke, or what
ever was funny, you got a 'nudge' in the ribs from Dad's
elbow to help you catch the 'funny'. Ones rib might not
break, but then you remembered when the next family together
movies took place.
After the movie we all ran home. . . all the way claiming
'firsts' on the bathroom. What am I saying we had no
bathroom. There was a kitchen sink and a shed about thirty
feet back of the house. . . a pre Chic Sales. And let me say
one thing about an outside Privy. There is nothing whatever
that has contributed more to CONSTIPATION than a privy in
cold damp foggy San Francisco .
One of the things that stands out in my mind, is that I was
NEVER conscious of being poor. I guess we probably were poor
most of the time, but kids never knew it. Well, after all,
we were always well fed. Always in a nice, snug bed, even if
two slept up and two slept down. Thats to-That's We were
always well clothed. . . . some of mine were new some of my
clothes came from McCallister Street and all were handed
down to Dib And then they to Beau. And after all those
little kids didn't know new from old. But were kept warm and
dry.
Yes, warm and dry. Well these modern kids don't know what
that means. Let me help them. San Francisco, not now, but
eighty years ago was a cold and damp place to live. Our
little shack on 26th Avenue at 374, was cold drafty,
uninsulated. One layer of wood or. the floor and one layer
of wood on the walls. The windows and doors leaked air like
a gale. Now that can and was cold. Mom would get Dad off
with breakfast about five AM. Then with the kitchen stove
red-hot we kids would get a call. maybe ABOUT SEVEN. They
last of us, probably me, would dragged out to the kitchen to
get dressed. Mind you we had only two rooms - kitchen and
bedroom . . . privy in BACKYARD. "BUT MOM I Don't HAVE TO
GO".
All of us would dress standing on stools or chairs, because
it was warmer up off the stone cold floor. . I can remember,
there was a shelf about shoulder hight when I seated on the
chair, on the shelf was a can containing Mom's buttons. It
was an old tobacco can. Every morning I would read the
printed matter on the sides of the tobacco can, and to this
day I can recall the printed matter almost as well as I can
my prayers. " United Tobacco. . . . etc. " Ask Dorothy, she
has the can.
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