Danvers visit

I want to share some photos and impressions from a recent visit to Danvers.

Ferncroft Pond, where I used to skate

My time was limited (spare hours around the edges of a conference October 18-20, 2017, at the DoubleTree Inn), but I thoroughly enjoyed brief excursions in the glorious fall weather.

With me for two days was a friend unfamiliar with Danvers, so I served as her tour-guide, showing her special places in the landscape of my childhood.

Some call this "Grandmother's Rock" 

The rocky outcrop just beyond the stonewall in the photo above is a familiar landmark on Nichols Street, an enduring remnant of the old "Locust Lawn" property: 35 acres of pastureland, woods, ski trails and sliding hills accessible to all the Nichols Street kids in the 1950's and 60's.

This house at 70 Nichols Street, just across the street from that rocky outcrop, was home to Mr. and Mrs. Frank Hoberg and their four daughters. Janet, the eldest, was my age and we often played together. Mrs. Hoberg encouraged me when I was learning to sew. Janet and I spent hours in her sewing room making clothes for teddy bears and dolls. I sent this photo to Janet, who now lives in Florida.


Nichols Street, cut off by Rte 95, now ends not far north of the Hoberg house. Back in the 1940's it would have been possible to walk or drive north all the way to Ferncroft Road and the old ice pond. Nichols Street originally extended in a straight line towards the old Route 1, up and over the west side to Dale's Hill (a.k.a. Nichols Hill) and ending about where Ferncroft Road now begins. Today the drive from Nichols Street to Ferncroft Road is indirect, involving confusing loops of newer roads.

Even the south end of Nichols Street has been transformed. The little store I remember at the corner with Maple Street, where we bought penny candy, isn't at the corner anymore.

The store building, at 1 Nichols Street, seems intact; it didn't move, but the intersection of Nichols Street with Maple Street has shifted northward.  Here are a few photos. In a future post I'll write more about 1 Nichols Street.

The old candy store is now Nik's Giovanni's, selling pizza, kabobs, and soda. I did find a few small pieces of candy there, and bought some, just for nostalgia.

The old candy store is now Nik's Giovanni's

The address on the door of the store is still 1 Nichols Street, though the actual corner with Nichols Street is now many car lengths away.  On their brochure, they list "Route 62 Danvers, Across from Forest St" as well as their mailing address: 1 Nichols Street, Danvers, MA 01923.

Store at 1 Nichols Street

Rte 62 (Maple St) looking northwest from Nik's Giovani's. The entrance to
Nichols Street and Spring Street is now ahead on the right (where you see the truck's tail lights, and white sign). 

On the last day of my visit, I explored at my own whim, after a delicious breakfast at the New Brothers Restaurant and Deli in Danvers Square. I thank classmate Susan Kent Rogers for introducing me to that restaurant. We savored the good food and reminisced about various Danvers Square stores and experiences from long ago.

17th century house that once was on Spring Street.

I paused to take a photo of a VERY old house, now on Maple Street, but originally (before 1914) on Spring Street. I'm glad to see it protected by a new roof.

This 17th century house had been the home of my ancestor Sarah Warren Prince (later Osborne). She raised two sons, one of whom married into the Nichols family. I've been told of a family cemetery on Spring Street, but I was unable to locate it.

Next I drove out Forest Street and explored the Endicott Park, walking along a lovely path in the woods. 

These stalls reminded me somewhat of the stalls in the old Locust Lawn barn.

Community gardens and fall foliage

Oct 4 thoughts...

Danvers has been in my thoughts many times today, for a variety of quite different reasons. At breakfast time, our morning newspaper contained a story about the 60th anniversary of the launch of Sputnik, the first artificial satellite put in orbit around the Earth.  I recall going out one night with my parents onto an open slope where we could lie down and see a large segment of the sky, watching for Sputnik as it passed by. We saw it! We were on a slope above Rte 1, facing west, looking at the sky above Pine Knoll and Ferncroft Road.

This afternoon I pulled up a few carrots from my garden, and recalled that I'd been planting Danvers Half-Long Carrots for many years. This year's crop hasn't grown very long, though. My husband says they must be "quarter-longs" instead. Still, they are tasty, and have a Danvers connection.

Several email messages today, from unrelated people, also involved Danvers. A student working on a research project is seeking information about a woman in my great grandfather's family, who lived in Danvers.  Another inquiry came from a friend in Falmouth, asking me what handouts and A/V equipment I plan to use during a workshop we'll be co-teaching October 19 at the Massachusetts Councils on Aging Annual Conference; she also wanted confirmation of where we'll stay during the conference, which happens to be in Danvers this year. She's not familiar with Danvers, so I sent her some directions, and a link to MapQuest showing the route from our proposed lodging (with a Danvers classmate of mine) to the conference center, which is on Ferncroft Road.  I reflected on the many changes that have come to that north Danvers landscape (and the network of intersecting roadways) since the night I lay watching Sputnik travel through that sky in 1957.

Meanwhile, an acquaintance from western Massachusetts, where I now live, traveled to Danvers to do a library workshop today.  I had sent her a brief note yesterday, and she replied this morning, saying that her expected audience would be middle school students. I hope she'll be a resource to help my local public library with some similar programming in the future.

All in all, Danvers seemed to be in the air today. This evening I read an email forwarded by Onye Kamanu's wife Lillie; it linked to a BBC News article about Nigeria, dated today, Oct 4, 2017. The article describes Onye's early excitement and pride about Nigerian independence, and mentions that soon after Independence Day (October 1, 1960) Mr. Kamanu gained a scholarship to study at an American university. The article doesn't mention Danvers, but Danvers was definitely his first introduction to America. My parents applied to host an African student for a one-month "homestay" to provide some orientation to American culture prior to the start of university classes and dorm life. Thus in August 1962 Onye Kamanu arrived from Lagos after a long ocean crossing, and was welcomed into our family. He stood on our front lawn, in bright sunshine, and exclaimed how odd it was to have "sun without heat!" Onye became well known in Danvers during the next four years, as he rejoined us for each holiday and break from college. Onye and I like to reminisce about those times in Danvers. I'm glad to see his photo in the BBC story.

Hooked rugs

"What ever happened to those rugs?" asked my friend Pat, after I shared stories of colorful hooked rugs created at my mother's request and enjoyed for so many years in Danvers, long ago. Although I hadn't seen those rugs for a decade, I knew exactly where they were stored – rolled in an old sheet, hidden behind rows of boxes, tucked away under the eaves on the third floor of my current home.

Pat was visiting me, an overnight guest in that same house. The next morning I surprised and delighted her with a display of those rugs. As I unrolled the bundle on the living room floor, I warned her that these old rugs were in sad shape, too worn and fragile to use (or to clean), but of such sentimental value to my sister and myself, that we couldn't throw them away.

One rug was made in 1942 (75 years ago!) and the second one in 1958.  Pat was impressed by how well preserved they were, and I had fun pointing out various designs and telling Pat what those images meant to me. We probably spent almost two hours examining those rugs, and taking photographs. The rugs won't last forever, but the photographs can help preserve the stories of these unique rugs, hand-hooked by Sadie May Morse of Marblehead, Massachusetts.

I have already written about my memories of these rugs, and how they came to be made. (Type "hooked rug" in the search box of this blog to find previous postings and old photos.)  Today my purpose is to share photographs of how the 75-year old rug looks now:

A Swedish "tree of life" design was one of the inspirations for this rug.  Sadie May Morse placed that design in the center.  If you look closely, note the letter R hidden behind that tree.  (Elsewhere she tucked other letters of her last name.)

In the 1950's my father loved to play Tiddly Winks Golf on this rug. He usually placed a dictionary between the 2 ovals seen above, challenging us to play the "wink" from one oval to the other by jumping it OVER the book in one move, or playing it around the book. I showed Pat the set-up:

My parents loved to play ice hockey

My mother loved horses; my father had a sail boat; and they lived in a tiny house (see above)

Although this 75-year old hooked rug looks remarkably good in the photos above, I took additional photos to illustrate problem areas. This rug was constructed of wool strips hooked through a burlap backing. The aging burlap has disintegrated in places, especially along one line where the rolled-up rug had once been stored on a damp cement floor.

My mother attempted repairs, adding patches of denim fabric (recycled from old "dungarees") on the back side. She also was always very cautious when using a vacuum cleaner, not wanting to suck broken pieces of wool into the machine. Her preferred cleaning technique was to bring the rug outdoors and sweep fresh powder snow across the surface. The moist snow, when swept off, carried away the dust and dirt – a good gentle technique for surface cleaning.

Deeper cleaning would be a challenge, even when the rug was new. My mother often told the sad tale of the house painter who dropped a can of white paint onto this rug, and her frantic efforts to clean off the paint. She succeeded to some extent. As a child, I couldn't see evidence of that awful spill. But as I grew up and the rug worn down with heavy use, the old white paint embedded lower in the wool began to be revealed.  See these photos: 

White paint from a 1940's accident is visible.

On September 13, 2017,  just days after I took these photographs, I happened to encounter an enthusiastic group of women hooking rugs. What a timely and welcome surprise!  (I had traveled to Star Island in the Isles of Shoals for a 5-day retreat, and they were staying on Star island for a rug-hooking retreat.)  I enjoyed watching them hook. I shared these photos (which were still on my cell phone) and learned that they call such rugs "Story rugs." An appropriate name!   Many more stories to tell...   I'll post photos of the second rug (made in 1958) on another day.

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November 7, 2017 update.
I'm now adding photos of the 1958 rug, which was also hooked by Sadie May Morse. My mother was delighted that the SAME woman was still hooking rugs so many years later. We had moved into a larger house in 1957 and now had room for another rug. My mother commissioned one to match.

My initials (SMN) and my sister's (JCN) were designed into the corners, just as my parents' initials had been put in the corners of the 1942 rug.

In the photo, right, you can see an irregular patch just above my initials. A carpet cleaning company in 1995 washed this rug, without realizing how fragile the underlying burlap might be. A section broken apart and unravelled. They did their best to repair the problem before returning the rug to me. (It was my mistake to include this rug in with a batch of oriental rugs, which were all cleaned expertly. The company specialized in oriental rugs, and had NO experience with hooked rugs. Oops! That odd hand-sewn area is now just another story to tell; not a problem, really.)

The images in this rug were based on photographs and postcards from various family experiences, especially our six-week car-camping trip across the U.S. in summer 1958.  I think the airplane signifies my parents' 1954 trip to Switzerland; for my mother, who had so admired Amelia Earhart, the act of flying across the Atlantic in 1954 was an unexpected treat and adventure. The rug contains a few Swiss scenes (e.g., skiing) and emblems.

Our new house at 121 Nichols St, Danvers

Our dog "Heidi" and my pet raccoon "Daniel Coon"were included. Such memories!

And many, many scenes from our western trip, in which we visited great dams, and a dinosaur park. Also included was the quatrefoil symbol of our church in Salem, and the fancy yacht "Pelican" which belonged to one of my parents' friends in that church.  My parents crewed for them on the "Pelican" and enjoyed wonderful trips around Nova Scotia.  (Meanwhile, my sister and I were left with our cousin Annijay and her family in Maine, where we had a marvelous time.)

This story rug triggers so many memories, each of which could probably fill separate blog posts, someday.