THE BEGINNING

My father, George Schwartz, was born in Chelsea, Massachusetts,

on July 10, 1921. He was known as “George” or “Yossel.”

Family members included:

 His father, Jacob Schwartz;

his mother, Jennie or Shaindel;

his brother, Abraham aka Al or Boomie;

and his sister, Edith aka Hindy;

his wife, Edith Lippa (Hebrew name Etaw Chana);

and sons Jay Elliot (Yaakov Eliyahu and Steven Harold (Yisroel Chaikel).

It was the era of the infamous mobster Al Capone, Elliot Ness, the

Great Depression, and speak easies.

George lived on a small dairy farm at the corner of Michael Place and William Street in Chelsea.  His family lived in a house which had about six rooms. The bedrooms and two bathrooms were upstairs and the living room and kitchen were downstairs.

His father, Jacob, worked for a company where he did the buying of woolen rags. His mother, Jennie, kept house and raised the children.

Their dairy farm had around 15 cows. The barn was separate from the house, but  close by. Altogether, they had maybe 20,000 square feet. They grew their own vegetables, including tomatoes and corn.

A hired hand did most of the work. All the milking was done by hand. They also pasteurized and bottled the milk, which was a business done on the same property. There was a bottling machine for pouring the milk into bottles. It was similar to a conveyor belt operation and ran on electricity. They had one of the first manufactured pasteurization machines.

After the milk was bottled, it was put into ice storage. The milk was delivered house-to-house in a pickup truck around 2:00 a.m. Most of their business was by word-of-mouth.

In those days, milk sold for 10-cents per quart. Every year it would go up about 5-cents. A lot of people couldn’t even afford to pay 10-cents because many were out of work. It was the time of the Depression, which started in 1929, and didn’t end until around 1937 or 1938 when Franklin D. Roosevelt became president.

For those who could afford it, people bought milk for 10-cents per quart; then it went to 15-cents per quart, and the second year to 20-cents per quart. Everyone thought it was too much money. They said, “How are we going to pay for it when we’re not working?” Jacob said, “Wait and see…One of these days it will be $1.00 per quart.” Sure enough, his prediction came true. Years later, milk went to $1.00 per quart.

Jacob worked a lot and wasn’t too talkative around the house, except to Jennie, his mother. His father spoke both English and Yiddish. He was a very hardworking and honest man. People that knew him respected Jacob’s opinion.

Everyone used to meet on Saturday nights after the Sabbath in a  deli on the corner of Everett Avenue and Arlington Street. Everett Avenue was one of the main streets and by day, people came to Arlington Street because it was a vegetable market. When everyone met at the deli on Saturday nights, they sat in booths and tables and talked and had coffee or a sandwich. There was a pharmacy across the street. Half a block away from the deli was a large synagogue and across from that was the fire department.

So Jacob’s friends, who were in the rag and junk business, asked him when he was going to give up the milk business because it was getting to be too much for him. Jacob said that someday, he would give it up.

Chelsea was about two square miles in size and had a population of about 30,000 to 40,000 people. It was very close to Boston and surrounded by other towns and also near the Charles River and Mystic River. Around 25% of the population were Jewish and the others were African Americans, Irish, Poles, and Russians. In George’s elementary school, sometimes there were gang fights. There were sections in Chelsea where each ethnic group lived and the Russians and Poles used to fight with the Jews, Italians, and Irish. When they grew up to be teenagers, most of the fights stopped.

George went to junior high and high school, but dropped out to work when  WWII started. His father had health problems and sold the milk business. George first worked for a dry-cleaning company and delivered customers’ garments. The owner’s name was Bloomberg and he worked there about two years. By then, the government was drafting men.

He met my mother, Edith, when he was around 18-years old at a party given by Jeannie Marcus, and then the United States entered the war.