Early Days of Minooka Recalled by Michael G. Cusick

The Scranton Republican, August 1925 “Old Home Week"

Early Days of Minooka Recalled by Michael G. Cusick (b. 1871)

M.J. Cusick [sic] writer of the following article was born in Minooka and has been prominent in that place for many years. He is a member of the Minooka School Board and for the past ten years has been secretary of that body. He has been connected with the Prudential Insurance Company for twenty-five years, is now holding the responsible position of special assistant superintendent.

Mr. Cusick has been long active in civil affairs. He is brother of Rev. Peter F. Cusick, S.J. President of Canisius College., Buffalo, N.Y. – Editor’s Note.

M.G. Cusick, Bridgit Flaherty Mulkerin Cusick, Ann Cusick,
 Anthony Cusick,  Father Peter Cusick, S.J.

The early inhabitants of Minooka came from the west coast of Ireland, principally from Galway, Mayo and Cork, and truthfully it can be called the Ireland of America.

They came without any worldly goods but were possessed of stout hearts and strong bodies and their chief pastime was work, never grumbling or complaining, but only anxious to see that there were plenty of potatoes and cabbage in for the winter, and during the Lenten season always a barrel of haddock or a kit of mackerel in the cellar.

I recall many of the men walking from Minooka to Duryea to the mines to work, and it is related that one of our stalwarts once walked to Wilkes-Barre looking for a job, got it, walked back to Minooka, and then walked back to Wilkes-Bare on the night shift.

We youngsters who attended school were required before school time and afterwards to go down to the old spout for a dozen pails of water, as that was the old stand-by in those days, and often times, Peggy Burke’s and Sibley Hart’s well would go dry, and the only cisterns in the town were owned by Festy Davin and Jim Brown, father of our good friend John T. Brown, who was also born and bred in Minooka. He is now one of the leading writers for the Philadelphia Record. We also had to see that there was enough wood chopped for the brick ovens. In Minooka, every father and mother had large families, and 24 loaves of bread twice a week was a small baking, and they all loved the bread sweet mother baked.

It was customary in those days to kill a hog or two for the Winter, and if my old dad killed the first hog, it was my duty to visit the neighbors and give them a part of the hog, even the tenderloin, until Tom Murphy, or some of the other neighbors killed a hog, then the return was promptly made. Swapping eggs for the hatching was enjoyed to the full by our mothers and no money was accepted.

Everyone had full and plenty in those days and a meal was always ready and if you were too bashful to fill your plate it was filled for you to overflowing.

I can recall going for dad’s pay many a time together with many of the boys because our dads would not take time off to go for it because they might lose a car of coal. Yet many acts of bravery were performed by the good fathers and mothers. That is why we never had any jails or lock-ups in Minooka or divorces. We sent more young men to the World War than any other town of its size in America, and we have eleven [actually it was 13] soldier boys that paid the supreme sacrifice and are now sleeping in old St Joseph’s Cemetery.

THEM WERE THE DAYS, LADS!

Them were the days, lads,

Ha! Ha! Them were the days,

When you came home from your work your mind was at ease,

With your shins at the fire, a dragging your pipe,

While Maggie was giving the dishes a wipe.

And Mary, the baby up in her high chair,

With gravy and crumbs from her chin to her hair.

And Tommy and Danny just starting a fight,

To see who would bring up the coal for the night.

It’s not that way now, lads, though you may talk as you please,

Them were the days, lads, Ha! Ha! Them were the days.

On a Saturday night into town with the pay,

A haggling with Goldstein on the price of a suit

And coming away with a neck tie to boot,

And on the way home stopping off at McHale’s,

For a drop of the stuff and one or two of the ales,

And landing back home to find Mag half asleep,

With a frown on her face that was only skin deep,

For two or three minutes the devil she’d raise,

Them were the days, lads, Ha! Ha! Them were the days.

When old-fashioned people had old-fashioned ways.

It’s not that way now though the children are grown

And Mag is in heaven, and I’m all alone.

They keep me dressed up like I owned an estate,

They’re all well to do but too up to date,

The automobiles and parties called bridge,

Sure would make Father Mathew himself break his pledge.

Look back sweet Minooka, there were no such displays,

Them were the days, lads, Ha! Ha! Them were the days.

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