RATION BOOK No. 2 – Sometimes an archaeologic item, like the Dead Sea Scrolls or the Rosetta Stone, deserves mention. For Frenchtown there's Ration Book No. 2. It was among the stuff that that had to be cleared out of the Apgar mansion after Mae Ruth Apgar died in 1984.
Her sole heir was her nephew, Douglass Frapwell Jr., son of Ruth's sister Daisy, the only one of the four Apgar girls to marry, so he acquired Ration Book No. 2. Time passed and it was handed down to his daughter, Elizabeth Evans of Mountainside. She decided that this historical curio needed to go to Frenchtown and remain there. So she brought it to me in 2019.
Ration Book No. 2 had originally contained coupons for things like sugar and coffee during World War II, but afterward someone decided it was just the right size for holding about 50 4-by-6-inch file cards.
Each card has the name of a Frenchtown person at the top and gossipy remarks below. The handwriting, all done in pencil, shows three writers contributed to this unbound “burn book.” Although they keep the memories ever-green, the cards have turned pale brown with age.
When were they written? Well, the latest event they reflect upon occurred in 1954 – Mary Moore's demise, disillusioned and impoverished. How old were the writers? The death dates of their earliest subjects indicate the writers started noticing people in the first few years of the 20th century. So I'm picturing three women who were born in the 1890s, and were edging into old age in the 1950s, exerting their memories, and flexing their claws to see if they'd still got it.
Who were these gray-haired tabbies? The cards' provenance points like a neon sign to Lily, Ruth and Lizzie – the three Apgar bachelorettes Lillian R., Mae Ruth and Elizabeth, born respectively in 1890, '91 and '93. Maybe this card game was a way to entertain Lillian, who died in 1954, but that's an irresponsibly wild guess.
Arguments against Apgar authorship include the fact that one woman wrote a card: “Jen + Cora – Colored girls at Apgars. Only two colored people in town.” It doesn't seem like the way an Apgar would phrase it. That same writer also did a card on Lily Apgar and one about the sisters collectively. That doesn't make sense; this was a burn book, not a memoir. Also, Ruth was gossipy enough for this exercise, but having spent maybe 100 hours with her, I would have expected her observations to be funnier.
Somebody who really knew their cohort could probably riffle through the deck and supply the three names conspicuous by their absence. But such an expert would be 130 years old by now.
The ladies, whoever they are, drop a very few compliments:
Francelia Warford and Eliza Apgar – Best pie bakers in town...
Niece, Stacy – Milkman with a terrific “rear end” (Unless this was sarcasm, it is a tribute to the durability of his physique that it remained impressive into middle age. He would've been 57 years old in 1910, which is about when, according to my calculations, the card writer would've been of an age to appreciate masculine pulchritude.)
Several of the cards are merely informative:
Buck, Jake – Only Catholic in town.
Emory, Al – Told Indian Stories. Only man in town that ever wrote a book – outside of “Doc” Fargo.
Nixon, Charley – Civil War Veteran. Saw M. Reading… eating an ice cream cone. Said, (apparently to the cone) “What are you doing, cooling him off a little?”
McIntire, Walter – Wouldn't set clock forward or back for Daylight Savings.
Pfeil, Simeon – German – wouldn't let him pray during World War I in Pres. Church as he prayed in German… He said, “I didn't pray for Germany...”
McClain, “Zupe” – Section Hand and Crossing Watchman – “Have to wear my Sunday clothes every day now since I'm a watchman on the Penna R.R.”
Rogers, Frank – Baby Coach Factory. Mill burned – he ran up + down street shooting a revolver. (When the Sixth Street factory burned in 1912, Rogers was the first to discover the fire.)
Some cards are negative, but harmlessly mild at this distance:
LaRue, Tom – Long whiskers – slowest paperhanger in Hunterdon County
Swick, Bryce – Took part in Presbyterian Church play – got mad + whole cast had to coax him back
Warford, Tom – Crack shot at clay pigeons – Family still living on spoils of his career.
Sherman, “Jim” – Lumber & Coal dealer, Postmaster. Absent minded – thinking of stock market. Gave any amount for change at P.O.
Case, Elijah – Time was, he was only man in Frenchtown with a college degree. Looked like a spook – walking around town with umbrella overhead on clear days
Able, Harry – Lawyer. Green umbrella. Pants too short. Takes 100 yrs to settle an estate.
3 Apgar girls – Went to Miss Hills school sick – mother found bottle. Said they had been playing Treat. Doctor had trouble finding out trouble, found bottle + glass on father's desk. (Miss Hill ran a nursery school on Trenton Avenue. I wouldn't say liquor was mother's milk to the Apgar girls, but they did reside in the National Hotel over a barroom.)
Opdycke, Elisha “Lish” – Horse Dealer. Oll Kugler always said “Lish said” – as if he were a final authority. Didn't believe in divorce so Emily his daughter had to wait until he died to get her divorce...”
Warford, Jonse – Tom's brother. Didn't believe in taking clothes off at night + dressing up again in something else next morning. Orville's father.
Palmer, Tom – politician… Emily Opdycke said Martin's alligators had mouths just like Tom Palmer.
Eilenberg, Howard – Took all his family up to Pocono's for summer and kept them on his poker money. (Another Eilenberg card:) Gambler – Tinsmith. Won 2.00 at poker – was asked for church donation. Said, “I just won this at a poker game, if you want it, you can have it.”
Then there are these:
Martin, “Billy” – State Senator. Race Track Vote = house with all the trimmings: 2 alligators, 2 ponies + a cart. Sat corner of yard + fanned all summer. Took bribes all winter in Senate. (Martin has an alibi: He moved into his brand-new mansion in 1891, a year before he was a senator. So I find the defendant not guilty of building his house on a foundation of graft, but guilty of having the most outrageous whiskers in town. And the alligators? He acquired them after his time in the Legislature, and they are evidence of something. Exhibitionism maybe? As a former alligator owner, I must recuse.)
Reading, Charlie – Merchant. Done them all out of everything, then went up river, stuck umbrella in sand and put his face into water – croaked – clothes perfectly dry. (In 1915 Reading may have drowned himself, but no one has the discipline to do it that way.)
Some of the testimony was too interesting to omit, but too defamatory to print with the subjects' full names:
M.L. – Husband died – Right after funeral while still in throws of grief, asked “Have you any men around?”
B.S. – Put a ladder up to wife's bedroom window to make thing more interesting.
S.W. – Worked Blanche S. to death (figuratively) then left all her money to Christian Science Monitor. (According to the 1905 state Census, S.W.'s occupation was “capitalist,” which meant she was living on investments, and her live-in servant, Blanche, was 15. Assuming the card is accurate, the Monitor got its windfall in 1913.)
W.O. – “Old Soak” – very “witty.” Bought eggs (on credit) at grocer's – then sold to buy his whiskey.
S.P. – Had a baby a little too soon – Said she couldn't understand how it happened. She must have been asleep.
R.C. – He was paid to look after stores, then after weeks of no robbers, went up street shooting pistols, shouting robbery.
M.M. – Stood naked in front of window. Knocked on window & whistled – Stacy Niece looked up – She said “Rubber, you old son of a bitch.” Charged .10 for a look at her in tub. (M.M. was born in 1890, and let's hope she didn't harass the milkman until she turned 18, when he would've been 55. “To rubber” was a slang term derived from “rubbernecking,” and it meant “to gawk.” And a dime in 1908 was worth $1.80 in today's money, making an eyeful of M.M. affordable for almost anyone.)
Excerpt from "Rick's Frenchtown Encyclopedia"
Miss Apgar fails to mention that James Sherman was also mayor of Frenchtown (1894-1895). Of course since Ruth was only four or five at the time, that fact may not have registered on her horizon. As far as being absent-minded, she might have taken into account that he was born in 1854.