I can't say I remember Ike Bash, but our neighborhood also had a junk man who brought his horse drawn vehicle into our neighborhood. I can still hear his familiar call as his "Raaag's, Raaags" call mingled with the clip clop of his horse. He dealt in both discarded rags and metals.
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Monday, October 26, 2009
1946: IKE BASH, JUNK DEALER AND HIS HORSE DRAWN WORK PLACE
I can't say I remember Ike Bash, but our neighborhood also had a junk man who brought his horse drawn vehicle into our neighborhood. I can still hear his familiar call as his "Raaag's, Raaags" call mingled with the clip clop of his horse. He dealt in both discarded rags and metals.
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Hi Tom, I believe that Bash was the rag man that came through our alley, in between Woodland and Williams St. This was during the time that I was between the age of probably five through eight. I can tell you this: he scared the hell out of me. That low growling voice of raaags! was sure menacing. We would run out to the back gate to see the horse, knowing that gate was between him and me. I remember my grandmother sold him tied up newspaper bundles, towels, rags, clothes, and such, which he weighed with a hand held scale and paid her by the pound.
Once, and I don't know why, I through a stone at the horse, which bounced off of him. He jumped out of the wagon and came into our yard. I had run inside through the cellar door, hooking the catch behind me. He banged on the screen and spoke with my grandmother. I believe I apologized and never tried that again.
There was another Bash that I am very familiar with. Perhaps they were related. Abe Bash came around by car, peddling towels, wash cloths, dish towels, and bedding among other things. He had a driver, an older gent, who I remember wearing a wool cap and a vest. I never heard him speak to anyone. He would just sit in the car and wait for Abe. The car was an old rust colored 1938 Chevrolet, that had so much weight in it (all the goods he sold), that it sat real low in the back.
Funny thing; he would knock and it always seemed that I answered the door, since my grandmother was busy in the kitchen (remember housewives). He would tell me to tell Mom that the Jew was here. The word Jew was said to me in Polish and I would repeat the exact message to my grandmother. I would get yelled at for repeating that word and he would get a big laugh out of it.
Next time he came, this same little show would repeat itself, and I would get yelled at. "But he told me to say it" I would explain. He got a big kick out of this.
My grandmother had a little book, which was a record of what she bought. Bash would take a small pencil, which he had shaped with a pocket knife; wet the pencil with saliva by putting it to his tongue, and mark the one dollar payment in the book. He kept no record, and my grandmother kept the book, but I would bet any amount, he knew that book by heart. I would say, that he trusted her explicitly. That's how business was done in those days.
Many vendors came around in their trucks, sharpening knives, selling fruit and vegetables, fish, bread and milk. George's Beverages came around every week to deliver a case of Kerns Soda.
The guy I liked the most, was a gentleman, who walked through the neighborhood, dressed in a suit and tie, carrying a doctor's leather bag. He sold homemade horse radish. We always purchased a bottle when he knocked.
Does anyone remember the 3 blind brothers who came around South Trenton neighborhoods with a two wheeled Hurdy- Gurdy playing patriotic music. There was a large American flag hanging on one side. They had kids knocking on doors to collect donations. They came often. If memory serves me, they lived on Liberty St., between Broad and Lalor.
That's some of what I remember about South Trenton, from your mention of Ike Bash, the scary rag man.
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