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.

WORLD WAR II

George was drafted and sent to an army boot camp in Spartanburg,
South Carolina. He lived in a barracks, learned how to use a rifle, and did a lot of hiking. He was thin when he went in and thinner when he got out. After boot camp, the army sent him home for a week. Then he reported to Fort Devans in Massachusetts and was sent to New Jersey (or Delaware) and put on a large British transport ship.

George didn’t like the ship because it was dirty, crowded, and many had to sleep in hammocks because there weren’t enough bunk beds. Soldiers got sick, but thankfully it was a short trip and took maybe a week to cross the Atlantic. They had to get to North Africa quickly. This was in 1943, and they landed in Casablanca, Morocco. His unit setup tents and slept in the desert. This was in the summer when it was hot and the nights were cold.

The fighting ended in that part of North Africa. He caught a cold and had problems with his sinuses and saw a doctor, who took one look at him and said, “George, I’m going to cure you of sinus.” He didn’t know what the doctor meant by that. They put him out and the doctor did surgery on his nose. When he woke up, he could hardly breathe because they had his nose all bandaged up. It turned out that he had a deviated septum.

His unit was put on a train and didn’t know where they were going until they arrived at Tripoli, Libya. From the train, they could see Arabs always waving. Whenever the train stopped, Arabs came up and wanted to buy bed sheets or anything the GIs would sell. If the American soldiers didn’t have bed sheets, the Arabs wanted to buy their shoes because they had nothing. At least that’s how it looked at the time.

When they arrived in Tripoli, they were there only for a day and put on a boat to Italy and landed in Naples. His unit lived in tents that held 5 or 6 men. About 50 to 75 miles away, there was heavy fighting to the north and in the Italian mountains. The Allies were having a tough time because of the terrain. That’s when General Patton arrived and landed in Sicily.

On top of one of the northern mountains there was a large historical church, and the Americans didn’t bomb the church because they didn’t want to anger the Italians. Germans were inside and around this strategically located church. American and British soldiers were being massacred every time they tried to storm the mountain. Finally, Roosevelt gave permission to bomb the church.

Personnel were needed in the motor-pool hospital, and the army wanted those who knew how to drive. So they picked George who drove a jeep, then a truck, and then a bigger truck.

He worked out of a good-sized hospital called the 118 Station Hospital that was located near downtown Naples. His job was to drive to the port to pick up a lot of newly arrived soldiers and also inland to pick up personnel. There were only one or two hospitals to take care of wounded soldiers in Naples. These originally were Italian hospitals. George did that until the war ended in Europe.

Halfway around the world, personnel and hospital staff were needed because of fighting in the Pacific. He was placed on an American ship in Naples. This ship, which wasn’t British, was nice and clean. They went across the Atlantic and through the Panama Canal. It took around 15 days. Soldiers were getting sick and not everyone was able to take it. George got sick for one day and then was alright after that.

When they went through the Panama Canal, personnel were granted leave for one day. That was the only time he got leave. Everybody was angry because they felt that one day wasn’t enough, so they were granted 3-days leave but were put back on the ship on the second day because the men were so happy to get off the ship that they were getting drunk and fighting and a few of them went AWOL.

Back on board, there was a lot of yelling, but they quieted down after a few days. They joined a large convoy of other ships of which 80% were American and the rest were British. There must have been close to 100 ships and they had to spread out due to fear of being torpedoed by Japanese submarines.

His convoy didn’t go straight to Japan and went down and around near Australia. They were there for one day, and all of a sudden everyone was yelling that the war was over because the first atomic bomb was dropped. They still had orders to go to Okinawa because the Japanese hadn’t surrendered. When they got to Okinawa, which was not that far—two or three days—they stayed in the Okinawa harbor with all the ships.

A second atomic bomb was dropped, and that’s when the war ended. George was still on the ship and then sent ashore to setup tents all over again because there were Japanese that wouldn’t surrender. The fighting in Okinawa didn’t last long.

Then the Red Cross told him to go home because his father might not live very long and was in the hospital. The Red Cross worker said, “Here I come and give you good news that you’re going home but there’s bad news.”

George asked, “How am I going to get home?” They put him on a mail plane. There weren’t any good seats and there was a lot of mail going Stateside from the GIs in Okinawa. George slept on the mail bags, which wasn’t too bad. The plane made five different stops by the time he got to San Francisco.

In San Francisco, they asked if he wanted to take a cross-country train or a plane. He took the plane, even though he didn’t enjoy the ride. They said that he would arrive overnight. He was put on a large passenger plane, and that was the first time that George ever was on a commercial airliner which landed in Boston  24-hours later. His sister, Hindy, picked him up at the airport, and they went straight to the hospital. His father, Jacob, was still alive and very happy to see him.

George sat beside him, held his father’s hand, and cried. His mother, Jennie, also was there. The doctor told him that Jacob was in tough shape and that he could go any time. His father passed away a week later. Then the army released him.

THE SCHMATTAH BUSINESS

George had to make a living, and his brother, Boomie, was working at the dry cleaner’s.  He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t go to college. He hadn’t learned a trade, and the only thing he knew something about was the rag business. His father had built a shop close to where they lived and it was empty. He decided either to rent it or do something with it.

There was an older man by the name of Mr. Oster, who was very good friends of his father and mother. Oster was a broker in the rag business and he used to visit his mother and father all the time. So when George came home, Oster said, “Why don’t you go in the rag business? Try it.” Oster didn’t really have to teach him, but he told George what to do and to get into a different part of the rag business that he might like more than what his father was in.

Oster told him to try the mixed-rag business. He said to contact his father’s customers because that was where the rags were. George bought a truck. He went to see his father’s customers, and they said that they’d be happy to supply him. They were junk dealers who would buy from people with horses and wagons that would sell rags and metals. These dealers mostly were outside of Chelsea and in Roxbury.

Boomie left the dry cleaner’s and joined George. They hired some women that helped sort rags. Then Boomie would bale the rags. All this happened in the shop that his father built, close to their house. They used the barn as a warehouse. Everything worked out pretty good. It was the 1950s, and then the Chelsea fire broke out.

Although the fire was not in his direction, it was only two blocks away. The fire may have been started by someone who had too much to drink and was smoking. It was so bad the fire department couldn’t contain it, and all the rag shops and some houses burned. From Arlington Street to Second Street to
Fifth Street, that whole area went down. It took one to two days to extinguish the fire. Afterwards, the insurance companies wouldn’t sell fire insurance to them.

From something bad, something good happens. Within four to five months, new buildings went up. Those who couldn’t afford to build, sold land.
The city and state bought the land, which the junk dealers couldn’t sell before. On the land were shanties made into shops. Most of dealers quit the business and retired.

BROOKLINE

Although he never graduated high school because he had to work to help support his family, George did get his GED, because my mother threatened not to marry him, if he didn’t.

George and Edith married on June 7, 1947, at the Winthrop Community Center; Mr. Leon Masovetsky officiated. They lived on Searle Avenue in Brookline, Massachusetts. I was raised there until we moved north to Eastern Avenue in Lynn, where we lived on the top floor of a 2-story house while George’s brother, Boomie and wife Elaine, lived on the first floor.

On June 7,1997, George and Edith celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.

LYNN

Many a Friday night, my parents’ friends would visit and would play poker. I hid out in my room, occasionally peaking through my bedroom door to see what was going on. Cigar smoke would permeate the surroundings, and that’s probably why I preferred to stay in my room, but sometimes I ventured out to see what foods were leftover.

I wasn’t the easiest child to raise and many times was rebellious. When push came to shove, my mother would yell, “GEORGE!” and I knew what that meant. It was The Time of Reckoning when the wrath of strapping came upon me. My father would take off his belt and give me two or three whacks. I always knew his heart was not in it, though…That’s just how children were punished in those days…

Growing up, I think my favorite times were going with my father and his brother, Boomie, to “the shop.” That’s what we called the family wiping-rag business in Lawrence. While in school, I went there on weekends when sometimes Victor and Rudy would show up and they let me drive the forklift around. I loved to climb and play on top of the bales and explore the dark, semi-deserted building. Then we’d go for lunch to a Lebanonese restaurant and I’d order French fries that were a foot long.

Like his father, George was a hard worker who always provided for his family. He really didn’t have any hobbies, nor did he really have time because of the long hours he worked in the rag business and antique furniture business. My mother did get him to go square dancing, which they did for many years. My father also liked traditional Jewish foods and many a Sunday morning, he would make omelets with lox and bagels



George and Boomie’s shop was small and they decided to move. George sold the wooden building to a neighbor. Then he sold a cement-block building that his father built. The buyer for that building was in the egg business. Now he had enough money for another building. The nearest place to find another building that he could afford was in Lawrence, Massachusetts.

ARLINGTON MILLS

George found a building selling for around $40,000 in the Arlington Mills. He was hesitant to buy until talking to someone who said, “Why don’t you buy that building? It’s tremendous up there. If I had any money, I’d buy that building. There’s nothing around here left. If you buy that building, you’ll end up renting out part of it.”

George never thought about renting. That night he didn’t sleep too well. The next morning he woke and spoke to Boomie. George told him that they were going to buy the building, if they could.

They drove to Lawrence and Boomie said, “No, we can’t buy the building. I don’t see how we can buy it.” George said, “We’ll rent it! We don’t need all that room.” They stopped at the seller’s office building, which was closed. The seller gave George five days to make a decision. It was getting late and they stopped to get something to eat. While eating, George saw a newspaper story about a man who passed away the previous day. It was the same seller that owned the building that he wanted to buy.

He went to the realtor who also was involved in the transaction and asked if he knew that the owner died. The realtor said, “There’s nothing that you can do about this now. You’ll have to wait probably another week to find out who will own the property now.” So that’s what George did. Everyday he went there to see if anything was new. It took a week and then he found the executor of the estate.

He went back to the realtor and asked what to do. “Well,” he said, “now you can buy the property for your price, maybe. You always can get $10,000 to $20,000 off because they’ll want to sell the property. They have to sell the property because they can’t do anything with it because it belongs to the family now. You go over there and see if he’s in.”




SUCH A DEAL

George went inside the office and asked about the building. The executor said, “You want to buy that old building?” George said, “If the price is right, I’ll buy.”

He offered $25,000. The man said, “Are you crazy? That building is worth $300,000.  I’ll give it to you for $80,000.” He told him that they couldn’t afford that. The man asked, “What can you afford?” George started to walk out…. The seller said, “Give me an offer, anyway.” So George offered $35,000. The executor countered with $65,000. George told him that he’d think about it and call him tomorrow.

Boomie was at the restaurant and waiting for George. So he told him what happened. The restaurant happened to be right across the street from the office. Boomie asked, “So what are you going to do? Why don’t we buy it for $65,000.” George said, “No, he’s going to come down.” So the next day he went back to the executor’s office.

The executor asked, “What are you going to do with this building? It’s so big. Are you sure that you can afford this building? Instead of this building, why don’t you buy this other one?” There was another building next to it, but it was in very poor condition. He wanted $25,000 for it. George said, “You’re crazy.” He says, “What do you mean, I’m crazy?” George told him that he wouldn’t buy that building for $10,000 because it would cost so much to repair, not including the cost to demolish the whole thing.

He said, “You know, you’re right. How much are you going to give me for this building?” George said, “I’ll make you one offer and then I’m going home. I’ll give you $40,000.” The executor said, “How can you give me only $40,000? I’ll give it to you for $60,000.” George said no. He looked at him and said, “Yeath, I’ll tell you what. Take the building already. I’ll give it to you for your price. I’m sick and tired of showing buildings around here that are falling down that no one wants to buy. I have to tell the family and will let you know tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure that they’ll go along with what I say. I’ll call you tomorrow morning as soon as I know.” Well, that afternoon he called and said, “George, you bought the building for your price.”

The building was 40 or 50 miles from his customers where he bought wiping rags. Although he had doubts about all of this, he thought that it might work. The building that he purchased was one of the first buildings built in the
Arlington Mills. Although it looked like a prison, it was a warehouse.

George had the rag business (aka schmattah business) in this building from the 1950s to the 1960s. He and Boomie had 15 to 18 employees who mostly were French Canadians that lived nearby. Weather-faced Victor who could fix anything, young and handsome Rudy, Annie the Syrian (or maybe she was from Lebanon?) who always would share her food, and Beverly the secretary were some of the more colorful people that worked there.

The price of rags at that time was around 10-cents per pound. Then raw material dropped to around 3-cents per pound because there wasn’t much of a demand. Up until that time, it was a good business for George. He bought rags from  waste dealers and junk dealers. They bought sorted or unsorted. George  traveled to Montreal and Toronto and dealt with two or three buyers and had a customer in Vancouver. He also shipped overseas, mostly to Italy and Africa.

The rag dealers that shipped to Africa were mostly in New York. Any deals had to go through them. They bought for themselves and shipped and made their own profit. When the Communist dictators came to power and took over North Africa, nothing could be shipped there.

The Congo kept having revolutions and the rag business had been a big market in that region. The New York buyers stopped buying goods from George. The whole business started to go bad. He was told to get out of the business, which he did. The European countries had been in control of African colonies and decided to leave. There was nobody to do business with because the Africans had no money. If there was any money, the dictator had it.

THE FIRE

One Friday between 4:30 and 5:00 p.m., George was filling up his gas tank and about to go home when he saw smoke. The fire department arrived right away because the gas station worker had called it in. When George returned to the building, the fire alarm was ringing because the sprinklers went off.

The building was six stories high and included a basement. The fire was caused by wet bales that were on the top floor. This was in the middle of July sometime around 1963.

The July heat and humidity that year were unbearable and it was on the top floor where the bales were stored. The heat made them so hot that two bales burst into flames through spontaneous combustion. That fire spread to other bales and burned the roof. The fire was restricted to the top floor and the firemen had a difficult time putting it out. They sent so much water into the place that water went down into the elevator shaft and also seeped through floors where other bales were stored. That’s what made it so bad.

A lot of bales became wet and George was afraid more bales also would burst into flames. There wasn’t too much smoke damage. That was not the problem; water was the problem.


SALE OF THE BUILDING

George sold the Arlington Mills building to two Chinese dried-flower distributors from Taiwan. He placed ads in the Boston and Lawrence papers and received a response in a short time. Since he originally paid around $40,000 for the building, he didn’t know what to ask. By then, the fire damage had been repaired.

George didn’t think the Taiwanese were really interested in the building, so he just made up a figure--$110,000. They said that they would think about it. George told them that he wanted an answer within two days. They came back and said that they would buy it. He was surprised and asked for a deposit of $10,000, and they agreed.

He told them that the rest of the money had to be paid with a certified check in a week’s time. George then told them that if they didn’t pay the rest of the money in a week, then they would forfeit the building and the $10,000 deposit. They agreed and returned three days later and said they changed their minds and did not want the building.

They asked for their deposit back and George said no, that they had an agreement in writing and he was not going to return the deposit. They asked if he  would rent them part of the building. They wanted to rent the second floor. George said okay and charged them $500 per month. He also rented part of the building to Malden Mills for raw wool storage. The Taiwan people eventually bought the building for around $150,000.

THE CHANDLER STREET BUILDING

After selling the Arlington Mills building, George bought a building on
Chandler Street in Lawrence. He really didn’t have to put any money down because he had money in the bank. George figured it would cost around $20,000 to fix the building. So he figured if he could buy the building for another $20,000, then that would be good. The building was empty and once was a clothing factory. The realtor called the owners in Los Angeles and told them that someone was interested in the building. They asked $50,000 for the building. The realtor told them they were crazy.

The calls went back and forth for a couple of days. The realtor told George not to pay more than $15,000. When he walked into the realtor’s office, negotiations were being done on the phone. The owners asked what the bottom figure was.  George bought the building for $18,000. Then he went to the bank and told them what he paid. He asked the bank to give him a mortgage for $35,000 and he started to fix up the building. He used the same crew who fixed up the
Arlington Mills building.

George went into the second-hand clothing business in the Chandler Street building. His helpers were Virgina Capola and Charlie Skuptsky. Virginia was a warm and wonderful woman who was always being chased by Charlie.

That business didn’t work out. He was making $1,000 to $2,000 per month after paying rent. Then he met a man who needed another storage place for furniture. This fellow looked at the building on Chandler Street and it looked like a new building because George fixed it up. The furniture man asked if George would sell the building, who said he would for $100,000. A counter-offer was made for $40,000. George came down to $90,000. The furniture man came back with $65,000. Then another gentleman stopped by to look at the building and asked if he wanted to sell. This person was a new real estate salesman and wanted to list the building.

The furniture dealer made a final offer of $78,000. George accepted but said that he would have to pay the real estate agent something. He thinks the agent received $1,000.

SAN DIEGO

George decided that he wanted to go into the antique furniture business after meeting some dealers in the business.

He remembered seeing a large ad about San Diego in the Parade section of the Boston Globe newspaper. The ad looked so nice that he decided to go to
San Diego and see what’s it was like.

He rented a building on 12th Avenue between Market Street and 16th Street in
San Diego. He only used the building to see how things would work out for the antique business. It was inexpensive rent. A young man named Paul worked for him and did refinishing. Paul had a girlfriend named Kathy.

From there he moved and rented a building in Lemon Grove off Broadway. The landlord kicked him out (in a nice way) because he needed the space and paid George for a ramp that he made. The owner restored antique cars. George was in that location less than a year and was glad to leave because not many customers came by.

 He then rented a small retail store managed by a Alan Hartman and his girlfriend Shirley in Oceanside. One day George came to the store and found it totally empty. Alan sold all the antique furniture and disappeared. George then opened a small store in Leucadia on Vulcan Avenue.

He finally ended up in Escondido in a 10,000 square-foot building which was run with his son, Steve. No money was made there because not enough furniture sold and the $5,000 a month rent kept going up. He ended up sub-renting the building to a motorcycle dealer, who eventually took over the lease and bought the building.

That was his last business. Around 1995, he woke up one Sunday morning and had a seizure. 911 was called and he was rushed to Alvarado Hospital where extensive tests were done over three days. Two tumors were found inside his head and after an 8-hour surgery, most of the tumors were removed.

After his surgery in 1995, he never was quite the same and slowly declined through the years afterward. He was extremely difficult to live with and I don’t know how my mother survived this. All I can say is that she certainly must have a place in the World to Come for all her love, dedication, loyalty, and caregiving. If it wasn’t for her weekly folk dancing at Balboa Park, she probably would have gone stark raving mad.

Due to my father’s macular degeneration, we convinced him that it wasn’t safe for him to drive anymore—after two minor and two major accidents. First he came home one day, minus a side mirror. Three months later he drove home and the car roof was totally crushed. To this day, we still don’t know what happened, nor did he. He finally pulled out in front of a car on Mission Gorge Road in Santee one day and came home minus the front bumper. At that point, my mother took his license.

He had a daily routine, which involved getting out of bed around 6:00 a.m., opening the drapes in the living room and dining room, and then walking back and forth across the living room for about ten minutes. (He did this upon the advice of his doctor for exercise reasons, as he no longer was able to walk outside, due to tripping and falling on the sidewalk.) That eventually stopped, because it became more and more difficult for him to walk.

Most of his final days were spent like this, along with sitting on the living room couch or sitting outside in the rear patio and watching television in the den. His favorite station was the Weather Channel and he always would announce what the weather was going to be.

Although he no longer drove, George still loved his car and would wash and even wax it. Somehow, this gave him a purpose.

To me, my father will always be a great man whom I admire and love, especially for his business acumen and risk taking. Growing old is never easy and we don’t know how each of us will fare in our “golden years.” When we pass from this world, that is the greatest journey all of us will ever take after a lifetime of trials and tribulations.

I know that my father’s soul is here with us today, watching and listening, and under the circumstances of his life while on the earth plane, he did the best that he knew how.

May the Heavenly Holy Light always shine and radiate upon you, dear father, and we always will remember you.