Dec 23, 2006 By Glenn Tunney For The 8 min read

Our holiday series concludes today with tales of Christmas shopping in mid-20th century Brownsville and of some memorable Christmas gifts. Many current and former residents of the Brownsville area have called or written to share their stories. Grindstone native Rosalie Renshaw Coughenour, now of Hopwood, remembers a childhood gift that was nearly a disaster. “In 1946,” she wrote, “things were tight because of the recent world war. For several years, my great desire had been to have a chemistry set, because I had hopes of being a scientist, doctor, or a great researcher. On Christmas morning, I was on top of the world when I opened my gift from my grandparents. It was a large chemistry set with a book of experiments I could do. I was on my way to a career!

“Two days after Christmas, my cousin, Lana Jean, came over to visit and promptly drank the phenolphthalein out of the set. She had a whopping stomachache but was not further injured, probably due to the very small amount of ingredients in each bottle. The doctor was called, appropriate treatment given, and the chemistry set was confiscated by my grandparents, never to be seen again. It was replaced by a scooter with a foot pump to self-propel it. After that scary day, nobody ever mentioned the chemistry set again.”

Thomasene Florence Jackson of Detroit, Mich., was quick to try out one of her favorite childhood Christmas gifts.

“Most of us got new sleds for Christmas,” Tomi told me. “I lived at 222 Cadwallader Street. We would make snowballs, freeze them and sharpen the blades on our sleds. Then we would sled ride down Cadwallader and turn at what we called the ‘Breaker’ near the Mt. Zion A.M.E. church.” Woe to anyone who missed that turn, for it was really downhill from there!

Chemistry sets and sleds were popular presents, but for Bill Patterson, growing up in the 1930s, there was one gift that he always wanted but never got. It was a particular red toy fire truck.

“Brownsville did not have a toy store as such,” Bill explained to me, “but several establishments expanded into that area seasonally. Besides Murphy’s 5 and 10, Coulter’s Hardware, near Fiddles on Water Street, put in a line of toys at Christmas. Even Cohen’s Wallpaper, a narrow storeroom near the bend of the Neck, sold toys and seasonal items.”

But the gift that young Bill had his heart set on was in a store farther up the street. “Goldstein’s Women’s Store turned their entire basement into a toy center each year,” he recalled, “and it was a highlight of the season to go there, look and wish. Goldstein’s had a few expensive toys that seemed to go on from year to year without being sold. One was a red fire truck displayed high on the wall. It was well out of reach, and its price was $20, far beyond what any shopper in Depression-era Brownsville was likely to pay for a toy. All of the kids I played with talked about it, and every year we would go down to Goldstein’s hoping to see the red fire truck.

“That fire truck taught me a useful childhood lesson. I learned that one doesn’t always get everything he wants, and that there needs to be something to dream about. I wonder what ever happened to that red fire truck.”

Wally Mulligan of Pecos, N.M., also learned that there was a limit on what a kid should ask for. “It was 1943,” Wally wrote, “and World War II was casting a pall over the holiday. The depression was over, but the war was draining the economy, and I was reminded daily that ‘money was tight.’

“I was 8 years old, and during the Christmas season, my dad promised me a special Christmas gift – a chocolate sundae at the dairy bar next to the municipal building. The sundae, which cost 15 cents, consisted of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and a cherry on top. We ate our sundaes, and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Nothing before or since has ever tasted so good.

“My mom had been out shopping this cold winter night, and she entered the dairy bar, cheeks red, her coat dusted with snow. She had a cup of coffee and the three of us headed out to the car. I was holding her hand, and I looked up and asked, ‘Mom, some Christmas can I have a banana split?’

“She turned and looked at me incredulously. ‘Do you think we’re made of money?’ she said. ‘They cost twenty five cents!’

“The lesson stuck. I have never had a banana split, but I can still taste that sundae. It was the best Christmas gift I ever had.”

Eating highlighted shopping excursions to downtown Brownsville. Norma Marcolini Ryan enjoyed childhood visits to a familiar eatery in Brownsville.

“Dad had no patience to shop,” said Norma. “Instead, he would go to Fiddles and chat with his coal miner friends, then we would meet him there and have our special treat of a hot dog and root beer. Dad, of course, had beer from the other side of Fiddles.”

For Tomi Jackson, the place to go was another well-known confectionery in the Neck.

“I would love to stop by Johnson’s Nut Shop,” she said. “I can still smell the roasted nuts that were on display.”

She ate some of those nuts while watching the traditional downtown Christmas parade.

“I remember the Christmas parades in Brownsville,” Tomi said. “Popcorn balls were thrown from the fire trucks, and I would watch my older sister and cousin march in the high school band. Santa was at the G.C. Murphy store and could often be seen walking the streets.”

Margaret Fleming Johnson of Brownsville recalls, “The Brownsville band was often costumed as elves and Santa’s helpers and played Christmas songs. Many groups sponsored floats, and Santa arrived on a fire truck, passing out candy treats donated by the local merchants.

“Shoppers walked to town from both hills, and many came by bus from all over town and from West Brownsville and California. The Greyhound bus line brought shoppers from all points between Uniontown and Washington. The Union Station Building was the hub for travelers and shoppers. Choirs and musical groups caroled in the Union Station waiting room, where it was warm, there were benches for resting and waiting, and the restrooms were clean.

“In stores all over town could be heard the constant chatter of customers, many with broken English or speaking in their own foreign language. And of course, another sound of Christmas was the ringing of the Salvation Army bells in front of G. C. Murphy’s 5 and 10.”

Rick Shaffer of Fairless Hills, Pa., remembers one of the bell-ringers in particular.

“There was a little guy,” he wrote, “who throughout the year would do special sales promotions for local merchants by wearing a sandwich board bearing an appropriate pitch. He carried a bell that he incessantly rang, while he continually mumbled to himself, ‘Ringa-da-bell, ringa-da-bell.’

“Then every Christmas season, somewhere in the Neck, there would appear a little skinny Santa. Dressed in a worn red suit, he had a scraggly white beard affixed by an elastic band under a healthy Roman nose. As this Santa rang his bell, bustling shoppers passing him were startled to hear him muttering, ‘Ringa-da-bell, ringa-da-bell, ringa-da-bell.’ Coincidence? You may be sure that many parents spent time explaining Santa’s need for lots of helpers.”

Murphy’s 5 and 10 was a childhood shopper’s paradise for Hannah Millward Fisher of Tucson, Ariz.

“Right after the second World War, the First National Bank came into existence,” Hannah told me, “and it offered Christmas clubs. If you put 25 cents into your account each week, you had the monstrous sum of $12.50 to spend on Christmas gifts. I would go to G.C. Murphy to do my shopping. I still have a very tarnished cameo ring that I gave my mother for Christmas many years ago. It cost all of 12 cents. At holiday time Murphy’s offered six to eight ounces of perfume for 30 cents, so my mother was also the lucky recipient of a garish bottle of perfume.”

Bonnie Bryan Magee of Erie wrote, “My parents, Sally and Jim Bryan of 517 Pearl Street, would take me downtown where the streets were brimming with shoppers. We always stopped to view the seemingly gigantic aluminum tree in the window of one of the furniture stores. Then we went into Hopson’s so that I could pick out the doll I wanted Santa to bring me.

“The evening always ended with a visit to Hagan’s, where my parents sipped coffee with friends and neighbors who had spent the evening downtown. I was treated to an ice cream cone, the tall-shaped Hagan specialty variety.

“Another treat during the holidays was our visit to the home of a family that lived, I believe, on Church Street. I do not remember their name, but they had a gigantic train/village display, and they invited folks to stop in and view it during the holiday season. Perhaps some of your readers will remember their name.”

The season of caroling in newly fallen snow, enjoying Christmas Eve ethnic feasts, and renewing our relationship with Santa is reaching its peak. Thanks to all of the readers who have shared with us their memories of Brownsville Christmases past.

Comments about these articles may be sent to Editor Mark O’Keefe, 8 – 18 E. Church St., Uniontown, Pa., or e-mailed to mo’keefe@heraldstandard. com .