Dear
Friends,
Good morning. For 20 years, our
family’s looked at an old dilapidated barn across the street from our house.
We’ve worried that it would collapse under its own weight. But, I’ve lived at
Second and Juniper Streets most of my life and that barn has special memories
for me.
Today it has an ominous red sign
posted to the garage door. “Condemned,” it reads. “Dangerous and Unsafe…Danger,
keep out!” I called Quakertown Borough Hall to find out what was happening.
Apparently the owners have until the end of April to either fix the barn so it
won’t fall down…or tear it down.
In the 1940’s, the barn served as
the headquarters for Boy Scout Troop 4, and our scoutmaster, Chester A. Foulke,
lived there as well. Chester loved sweets and his icebox was filled with
delicious pies and cakes. By the way, I’ve known two men who were named after
American Presidents. My father’s foreman at the Free Press was Woodrow Wilson
Lewis, named after the 28th President. And Chet Foulke’s full name
was Chester Arthur Foulke, after the 21st President.
But my funniest memory of that barn
happened when I was about 10. A very old man lived on Front Street and he kept
his Model T Ford in that barn. I don’t remember his name but he wore a huge
handle bar moustache and looked quite impressive as he tooled around the town.
I was always astounded by his
courage when he backed his car out of the barn. That model T roared out of the
barn…no cautious inching along to insure that the way was clear. I thought that
some day, he would collide with an unsuspecting motorist who happened
innocently by.
And it finally happened.
One spring day, as I was walking the
family dog, I saw him open the barn door. He got into his “tank” of a car [I
think those model T’s had to have been made from cast iron]. Revving up the
engine, as was his custom, he looked neither to the right or left, put the car
into reverse and hurtled out of the barn.
All was not well.
Some motorist was driving on Second
Street just as our Front Street neighbor floored the Model T.
CRASH!
The sound was ear shattering. The Model T hit the
unsuspecting motorist’s car exactly in the middle, bending his car in half.
And what did our safety conscious
neighbor do? He put the Model T into forward gear, and drove back into the
barn. He got out of the Model T, shut the barn door, and disappeared, leaving
the wreckage behind!
The bewildered victim extracted
himself from his bent car and, red faced, began to shout. I sensed that he was
displeased.
The chief of police, Newton B. Rapp,
arrived on the scene and the hunt for our neighbor began. Unfortunately my
mother suddenly appeared and hustled me into our house. So I never discovered
the outcome. Obviously he was trying to “beat the rap.” But I do remember my
late father’s advice about the chief. “You can’t beat the rap with Rapp,” he
told me.
For 70 years, I’ve lived in five homes in the second
ward…all but two of them at Second and Juniper, and all within one block of the
newspaper. Some tease me saying that I never got out of the second ward. And
those same jesters remind me that my high school required coat and tie for
class but only seniors could wear bow ties. As most of my readers know, I wear
bow ties exclusively, prompting them to accurately observe, that I never got
over finally reaching the 12th grade.
Sincerely,
Charles Meredith