Here's something else for you to read which you
might find interesting.
The railway system begain in 1880. In 1890,
the Globe Street Railway system had 17 miles of track, 35 boxcars, 35 open cars
and 5 sleighs. They used 265 horses to pull them.
By 1892, the electric streetcars were in.
Andrew Borden owned a large block of shares in that company. The company
wanted to buy back his shares. He finally sold them for
June, I take it back. Andrew Borden was not a
skinflint. He was an entrepreneur and very frugal, like my sister
Doris. We would accuse her of not turning loose of a penny until Lincoln
screamed. Actually, Doris has a heart of gold. She did so much
research for me without ever asking why I wanted something.
Andrew Borden was a cousin to the rich
Bordens. Now I'm reading where Matthew Chaloner Durfee Borden, son of
Colonel Richard Borden and Abby Durfee, own the American Printing Company, the
largest producer of printed cloth in the U.S., producing 200 million yards of
Looks like Abby Durfee Gray Borden was a distant
relation to Andrew Borden, doesn't it?
Want to hear something funny? Here they are
talking about 3.3 million spindles for 83,000 looms in 1900.
Well, my father, one brother and two sisters worked
in the mills. I don't know if we have any spindles in the cellar, but I
remember we played Parchese, using the back side of my mother's table
cloth. My father had drawn that. The markers we used were about 3"
long, and were the top section of spindles. Thief, thief!. No.
Most of the cotton mills had closed down by 1940.
Back to Doris:
I told her once that I hated her while growing
up. She asked why? Simple. Seems like she was stuck to watch
Maurice, Rejane and I (the baby), every so often. We'd decide we wanted
out and she would always stop me while they escaped. That to me had been
All we ever did was cross the railroad switch yard
(8 or 10 tracks), climb a wall, then the wire fence of the Firestone Company and
come back home with some white powder. Then we'd go down the cellar and
get some of mama's canning jars. We'd fill one half full of water, pour in
some of the white powder, screw the lid back on and run like hell. Sure
enough, the jar would explode.
When I was in the first grde, a young nun took me
to the principal's office and said they could do what they wanted with
me, but she wasn't going to have me in her class.
These and other escapades earned Rejane and I three
years in St. Joseph's Orphanage, while mama continued to work nights and papa
days. By 1945, they'd saved enough to buy a house, so back home we came
and mama's problems ceased. We'd learned our lesson.
Years later, mama visited the Mother House for
retired nuns in Montreal, Canada. Soeur Ste. Juliette was there. She
asked mama how I was doing! That brought back memories. Yes, I was a
holy terror during those three years I spent in the orphanage. Every week
they had our names on a blackboard. Those who got gold stars meant they
behaved like angels. One Sunday my mother came and there was a gold star
next to my name. Mama knew someone made a mistake!!!
End of book. My best to you
Author of Lizzie Borden Hands of Time