Groveville School to Firehouse

This is the Groveville School, on Main Street. This photo was taken around the turn of the century, 1900, maybe earlier. I can't believe how many children are in this photo; this is when Groveville only had three streets, Church, Main and Allen. Remember this is also when the mill was in full production.

This is the men of the Groveville Fire Company, standing with their hand-drawn pumper, in front of the new fire house. This is just after the old school was converted to the firehouse.

Firemen, left to right, Albert Simpson, William J. Henry, Joe Rollings, Samuel Pancoast, George Rollings, Fredrick Becker, Jack Johnson, Morris Doughty(rear), Lou Cook, Bud Doughty, Unknown, Walter Dwier, Charles Fisher, Unknown, Unknown, Unknown. The children on the right are unknown also.

Several of these men are my relatives, Joe Rollings is my uncle, George Rollings is my Great-Grandfather, Jack Johnson is my Grandfather, Morris and Bud Doughty are cousins. Several of these men still have family in Groveville.
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Other members of the Groveville Fire Company at its organization were; William J. McElmoyl, W.S. Trickett, Christian Berkyheiser, Robert Rogers, Frank Whitman, Isaac Bowers, Winfield Vogts, George I. Borden. These men are most likely the "unknowns" of the above photo, but I can't tie the name to their photo, suggestions appreciated.

This is a photo of the old Groveville School on Main Street. The school was located where the old fire house is now, 200 Main Street, Groveville. The building was approximately where the center of the dinning hall, of the existing building is now.

When the new school was built on Church Street and the new Groveville Fire Company was created this became the home of the fire company.

Some changes were needed when the building was converted. The small front entry door was moved to the right, the front windows were eliminated and a large “Barn Like” door was added to allow access for the fire equipment. The floor was reinforced, the interior center stairway was removed and an outside stairway and second floor outside door was added, this to make room for the equipment.

One favorite story about the conversion is that when the building was a school there was an upright piano in the second floor classroom. After the conversion to the firehouse the piano was still there, but the interior stairway had been removed and there was now no way to get the old piano safely out of the building. When it was determined that the fire company no longer needed the piano, I am sure after several lengthily meetings on the subject and the fact that firemen have very few “Sing-a-longs”. The piano was removed in a very unusual and unceremonious way. The top rail of the outside stairway was removed; they got a running start and pushed the piano out the second floor door and off the landing. It was said that when the piano hit the ground it played one very loud and unusual note that sounded for two days. I am sure that this was an exaggeration, but then we all know how “Firehouse Stories” go.

Another story is how the fire company raised money, they held “Bingo”, not unusual, but they did not have a lot of room in the old firehouse and there was a large stand of old trees that lined the drive from Main Street to the firehouse. During the summer they would string lights from tree to tree, set up tables under the trees and there they held their Bingo, outside. Sounds like a nice community gathering.

The sad part is there are people in this photo that I can not identify. I took this photo to all of the “Old Timers” of the fire company, older people in church, and the only thing I found is that I am now one of them. All of the people I used to turn to for answers to questions like this are gone.

There was a time I sat in the meeting room at the firehouse and looked around the room, a young kid of eighteen, at all the older men of Groveville that I admired and looked up to and could not believe I was now one of them. My father had recently passed away and these were the men that would teach me and shape me, in place of my father and I could not ask for a better group, and in a blink of an eye they were gone and I looked around and found that I was now the oldest active member of the fire company.

Being a volunteer in your own community, the people you help are mostly family and friends.

Being a volunteer in your own community you will find lasting friendships and will laugh more than you have ever laughed before.

Being a volunteer in your own community you will work harder, for no reward, side by side with people that care about their community.

Being a volunteer in your own community is a family endeavour, if the alarm should sound in the evening, it’s your wife or mother that keeps dinner warm till you get home. If it sounds at night, it’s your wife or mother that runs ahead, as you put on your pants, and opens the door and turns on the porch light.

Being a volunteer in your own small community you will find a ladies auxiliary that will be there to support you with hot soup and coffee, sandwiches and iced tea, no matter what time of day or night it is.

Being a volunteer in your own community you will stand side by side with grown men and cry when you do all you can and it’s not enough, to save a home, a life, or a child.

When I look at this picture I thank these men for starting something and working hard and sacrificing, that everyone in Groveville can be proud of our Groveville Fire Company, even through its years of change.

Groveville Fire Company Mascot ~ 1941

On Decoration Day (Memorial Day) 1941, C. Ray Bell

marched in the parade as the Mascot of the

Groveville Volunteer Fire Company.

A Letter Full of Memories

This is an excerpt of a letter I received from Jill Jones Meyers. Jill and her parents and family are long time Groveville residents, associated with Anchor Thread, members of Groveville Methodist Church, Members of The Groveville Volunteer Fire Company. Jill's uncle, married my aunt, I swear everyone in Groveville is connected in some way, but that's another story.

This letter brought back a lot of memories. One was the Groveville School fundraiser's, the one I remember the most was selling Old Monmouth Peanut Brittle, still made in Freehold, NJ today. The other is Prior's Donuts, at Liberty and South Clinton, Avenues. I remember going there with my Dad, seeing the donuts riding on their little elevators and conveyor belts, and getting sprinkled with powdered sugar. There has never been a donut that good.

I would like to have a nickel for every time I have related the story of the movie stars pictures on the inside of Dixie Cup lids, to my daughter, Kati, she says "Not again, Dad".

When she mentioned the "Halloween Masks" I could almost smell what it was like to wear one, not a bad smell, but a "Memory Smell", Like coming home from school and your Mom cooking your favorite food, you smell that food today and it takes you right back to Mom's kitchen and her home cooking.

It's great to get letters like this, as much research as I do, letters like this make me just smile and say "O yea, I remember that".

Jill's full letter can be read in "My Guest Book"

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Jill writes;

Mom would send me to Hepburn's store with a bowl and a piece of waxed paper and Harley would put scoops of ice cream in the bowl, cover it with the waxed paper, and send me running home before it melted.

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I also remember that they would put up a line in the store and hang all the Halloween masks out for us to choose one. I think they were 15 cents. They were made of some type of stiffened muslin and by the end of an evening of trick or treating the color would come off all around your mouth.

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Another treat from the store were the ice cream Dixie cups (chocolate and vanilla) that had pictures of movie stars on the inside of the lid.

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A couple of things I remember about Groveville School concern fundraising! I remember selling seeds and also taking orders for Prior's donuts and delivering them door to door. Three flavors.....glazed, cream filled and jelly.

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Another memory is of the "hot lunch" our Mothers would get together and cook for us. They were 25 cents and were served downstairs in the lunch room (turn right at the coal bin!). It wasn't every week. More like once a month.

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Speaking of the coal bin, do you remember how they spread the cinders on the playground and how they always ended up embedded in your knees? Remember sliding down the slide on a piece of waxed paper so you would go faster?

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I was a summer playground supervisor (my first job!) one year and we would take the kids to Woodlawn Pool sometimes. You could always smell the chlorine a block away!