In the first and second grade I attended Catholic school in downtown Portsmouth, and lived way out in Norfolk County (Virginia). The daily commute was an hour long journey each way. Remembering details about the bus trips, fellow passengers, and customs of the day provide a few fond and interesting memories. Also, a reminder of how things have changed over the last half dozen decades.
It was the early fifties and public transit service was provided by a fleet of buses called Community Bus Company. Powered by smelly diesels, the carriers had exteriors painted in light blues and greens. Each bus had a number and it was critical to know your bus number. Catch the wrong bus and you would be horribly delayed or might get home hours late and after many transfers. School kids and some commuters used cardboard tickets which the driver punched with a hole puncher. Each perforation represented one ride, and the tickets generally had ten marks good for ten rides. Riders could also use coins which were inserted into a coin contraption at the front of the bus. If a passenger needed change, the driver wore a stainless steel coin dispenser with levers and springs which dispensed coins. At the time I dreamed of the day, as a grownup, I could own a sparkling metal coin dispenser strapped to my hip and used to smartly click out coins as needed.
Depending on the length of the ride, I remember fares ranging from ten to twenty five cents. Transfers were slips of paper which permitted someone to transfer from one bus route to another. This seemed, at the time, a complicated procedure which involved chits of paper and knowledge of bus numbers and routes. There was only one entry/exit door on the smaller buses. The standard sized buses had a front door for entering and a rear door for exiting. When activated to open or close the doors always hissed. The seats were spring loaded platforms composed of a dark plastic/leather material. They were slick comfortable cushions with long cracks. The chairs were bolted to the floor. Some seats had loosened floor bolts and were prized since they provided rocking chair motion when shoved from behind or bounced nicely over road bumps. The windows could be lifted for fresh air, but also allowed clouds of dust, and diesel fumes to fill the passenger space. Projecting arms and legs from the windows was forbidden, but easily accomplished when the driver wasn't peering into the huge rear view mirror or when negotiating heavy traffic.
Best I can recall, the bus had no heating or air conditioning. Some drivers had small fans mounted above their heads to provide moving air. The interior featured long shiny poles for standees and metal seat frames to hold. These shiny tubes supported people standing and helped moving about as the bus jerked from stop to stop and thumped along uneven pavement. The most popular feature was the long pull cord which activated a bell or buzzer to signal the driver when it was your stop. There were few regular bus stops outside the city so when you pulled the cord the driver would gently pull over and stop. For school kids and regular riders the driver usually knew your stop however it was still necessary to pull the cord as a reminder. If you forgot to pull the chord at your stop the driver would grumble, glare, and find a safe place to pull over. The Community Company buses were not equipped with big red flashers so once off you had to be cautious. Pulling the cord for amusement always drew a stern stare and verbal warning from the driver. Most bus drivers were men, I don't remember any lady drivers. The driver knew his students, their parents, and even teachers. It wasn't unusual to have Sister Herculane or my parents remind me of my undesirable bus behavior from a few days earlier as reported by our driver.
Running about was forbidden, squealing above a whisper was another offense, hurling things was criminal, and fighting or rolling about was never allowed. Seat hopping was a constant source of fun and giggling. The amusement was to seize the opportunity when the driver was busy watching the road or collecting a fare and at just the right moment jump to another seat with a new companion. Kids were always expected to surrender their seats to any adult even if it meant sitting in the lap of another student. Drivers wore gray pants, white shirts with drab blue ties, a few shiny badges, dark shoes, blue jackets or coats, and military style dress caps. The drivers were always addressed as "Mister" or "Sir". It was amazing how skillful our drivers safely steered their huge vehicles through congested streets all the while watching us closely in their large rear view mirror.
St. Paul's had no fleet of buses so we used the city bus. In addition to us, our bus carried working people, sailors, and downtown shoppers. We also picked up a few kids from Harry Hunt and other Non Catholic (public) schools along the way. Mingling with kids from other schools was rare and I think each group surveyed the other as aliens. We had our nifty uniforms, blue monogramed ties and white shirts while the Harry Hunt kids wore a delicious variety of casual clothing. It must be remembered that in those times most families had only one car or no car so using the bus was a necessity. Before malls and shopping centers the only place to shop was downtown. The shipyard was nearly downtown and many jobs were also in town. Smoking was still allowed on board so the distinct aroma of cigar, pipe and cigarettes tickled our noses. Tobacco chewing was becoming rare, but once in awhile an old man would spit a mouthful out a window. Everyone knew to shift away from the windows. Once in a while the driver quickly hopped out of his seat and roughly escorted rowdy, cursing or drunk riders off his transport.
"Colored" people were required to sit in the rear of the bus which, at the time, we thought was the coolest place to sit. The back of the bus had long sofa sized seats which afforded group seating, full reclining possibilities, and a panoramic view of everyone else on the bus. Another attractive feature was the reality that the rear seats bounced at every potholes and dip in the street. The rumble and tumble at the back of the bus was fun. I didn't realize black people sitting in the back of the bus was not their choice but a law. Like the white and colored water fountains at city hall and the separate bathrooms at the public library my young mind didn't yet understand segregation and integration. Eventually my grandmother told me the racial rules when I was half way through the first grade. Since it was a grownup thing I didn't spend time questioning or trying to understand such things. However, my mates and I always raced to claim a back bench on the bus and gleefully dared each other to poke into the bathrooms or sip from the water fountains set aside for black people.
We had some bus delays when ice, snow, high winds, rain, and tidal flooding obscured visibility or clogged the streets. The buses were tough transporters and usually plowed through the bad weather. Although the windows leaked and cold drafts filled the bus, our drivers soldiered on from stop to stop. On the occasion of a breakdown the driver calmly announced the situation and walked to the nearest public telephone to summon a mechanic or replacement bus. We were commanded to stay in our seats, but naturally forgot that order once the driver was a few paces from the bus.
Home was nearly at the end of the line well into the country. Mine was one of the last stops before the bus began picking up riders on its return downtown. The long commute afforded plenty of time to exchange gossip and perform pranks. The long daily rides were part of our growing up time. It was where we became best friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, rivals, and enemies forever or at least for the day or week. I cannot recall the exact path the bus followed or all the specific stops, but I fondly remember a few crossroads and neighborhoods. After exiting High Street, we crossed near Westhaven, Oregon Acres along Portsmouth Boulevard and skirted Airline Boulevard along the way. Our daily commute took us near Academy Park, Alexander's Corner, Rollingwood, Century Homes, Simonsdale, Hodges Manor, Park Manor, Hodges Ferry, and then into the country which was Sunray, Jolliff Road, Bowers Hill. By way of the extended roadways of Portsmouth and Airline Boulevard we moved deep into Norfolk County where there were no sidewalks or subdivision names.
After the second grade, Little Flower (St. Therese) School opened in Oregon Acres and our daily bus ride was cut in half. Many of the same kids from St. Paul's were still my bus buddies. With my sister Catherine just starting school, the morning and afternoon rides were shorter but just as exciting as the downtown journeys from 1952 and 1953. As we got older our pranks and conversations got a little louder and bolder, but I think we remained a bunch of good kids.
From those Community Bus days I still recall drivers Mr. McKay (RIP) and Mr. Shotsenberger (RIP). I fondly remember the great kids who were my daily commuter pals; Tommy Bunting (RIP), Patty, Marshall Connely (RIP), Sandy, Mandy, Judith, Francis, Marvin, Mike Rooks (RIP), Margaret, Millard, Johnny, Zita, Keith, Jimmy, Chuck, Thomas Parsons (RIP), Diane, Eugene, Janice, Francine, Sharon, Jerry, John, Joyce, Paul, Tom, Wayne Smith (RIP), and so many more.
It was the early fifties and public transit service was provided by a fleet of buses called Community Bus Company. Powered by smelly diesels, the carriers had exteriors painted in light blues and greens. Each bus had a number and it was critical to know your bus number. Catch the wrong bus and you would be horribly delayed or might get home hours late and after many transfers. School kids and some commuters used cardboard tickets which the driver punched with a hole puncher. Each perforation represented one ride, and the tickets generally had ten marks good for ten rides. Riders could also use coins which were inserted into a coin contraption at the front of the bus. If a passenger needed change, the driver wore a stainless steel coin dispenser with levers and springs which dispensed coins. At the time I dreamed of the day, as a grownup, I could own a sparkling metal coin dispenser strapped to my hip and used to smartly click out coins as needed.
Depending on the length of the ride, I remember fares ranging from ten to twenty five cents. Transfers were slips of paper which permitted someone to transfer from one bus route to another. This seemed, at the time, a complicated procedure which involved chits of paper and knowledge of bus numbers and routes. There was only one entry/exit door on the smaller buses. The standard sized buses had a front door for entering and a rear door for exiting. When activated to open or close the doors always hissed. The seats were spring loaded platforms composed of a dark plastic/leather material. They were slick comfortable cushions with long cracks. The chairs were bolted to the floor. Some seats had loosened floor bolts and were prized since they provided rocking chair motion when shoved from behind or bounced nicely over road bumps. The windows could be lifted for fresh air, but also allowed clouds of dust, and diesel fumes to fill the passenger space. Projecting arms and legs from the windows was forbidden, but easily accomplished when the driver wasn't peering into the huge rear view mirror or when negotiating heavy traffic.
Best I can recall, the bus had no heating or air conditioning. Some drivers had small fans mounted above their heads to provide moving air. The interior featured long shiny poles for standees and metal seat frames to hold. These shiny tubes supported people standing and helped moving about as the bus jerked from stop to stop and thumped along uneven pavement. The most popular feature was the long pull cord which activated a bell or buzzer to signal the driver when it was your stop. There were few regular bus stops outside the city so when you pulled the cord the driver would gently pull over and stop. For school kids and regular riders the driver usually knew your stop however it was still necessary to pull the cord as a reminder. If you forgot to pull the chord at your stop the driver would grumble, glare, and find a safe place to pull over. The Community Company buses were not equipped with big red flashers so once off you had to be cautious. Pulling the cord for amusement always drew a stern stare and verbal warning from the driver. Most bus drivers were men, I don't remember any lady drivers. The driver knew his students, their parents, and even teachers. It wasn't unusual to have Sister Herculane or my parents remind me of my undesirable bus behavior from a few days earlier as reported by our driver.
Running about was forbidden, squealing above a whisper was another offense, hurling things was criminal, and fighting or rolling about was never allowed. Seat hopping was a constant source of fun and giggling. The amusement was to seize the opportunity when the driver was busy watching the road or collecting a fare and at just the right moment jump to another seat with a new companion. Kids were always expected to surrender their seats to any adult even if it meant sitting in the lap of another student. Drivers wore gray pants, white shirts with drab blue ties, a few shiny badges, dark shoes, blue jackets or coats, and military style dress caps. The drivers were always addressed as "Mister" or "Sir". It was amazing how skillful our drivers safely steered their huge vehicles through congested streets all the while watching us closely in their large rear view mirror.
St. Paul's had no fleet of buses so we used the city bus. In addition to us, our bus carried working people, sailors, and downtown shoppers. We also picked up a few kids from Harry Hunt and other Non Catholic (public) schools along the way. Mingling with kids from other schools was rare and I think each group surveyed the other as aliens. We had our nifty uniforms, blue monogramed ties and white shirts while the Harry Hunt kids wore a delicious variety of casual clothing. It must be remembered that in those times most families had only one car or no car so using the bus was a necessity. Before malls and shopping centers the only place to shop was downtown. The shipyard was nearly downtown and many jobs were also in town. Smoking was still allowed on board so the distinct aroma of cigar, pipe and cigarettes tickled our noses. Tobacco chewing was becoming rare, but once in awhile an old man would spit a mouthful out a window. Everyone knew to shift away from the windows. Once in a while the driver quickly hopped out of his seat and roughly escorted rowdy, cursing or drunk riders off his transport.
"Colored" people were required to sit in the rear of the bus which, at the time, we thought was the coolest place to sit. The back of the bus had long sofa sized seats which afforded group seating, full reclining possibilities, and a panoramic view of everyone else on the bus. Another attractive feature was the reality that the rear seats bounced at every potholes and dip in the street. The rumble and tumble at the back of the bus was fun. I didn't realize black people sitting in the back of the bus was not their choice but a law. Like the white and colored water fountains at city hall and the separate bathrooms at the public library my young mind didn't yet understand segregation and integration. Eventually my grandmother told me the racial rules when I was half way through the first grade. Since it was a grownup thing I didn't spend time questioning or trying to understand such things. However, my mates and I always raced to claim a back bench on the bus and gleefully dared each other to poke into the bathrooms or sip from the water fountains set aside for black people.
We had some bus delays when ice, snow, high winds, rain, and tidal flooding obscured visibility or clogged the streets. The buses were tough transporters and usually plowed through the bad weather. Although the windows leaked and cold drafts filled the bus, our drivers soldiered on from stop to stop. On the occasion of a breakdown the driver calmly announced the situation and walked to the nearest public telephone to summon a mechanic or replacement bus. We were commanded to stay in our seats, but naturally forgot that order once the driver was a few paces from the bus.
Home was nearly at the end of the line well into the country. Mine was one of the last stops before the bus began picking up riders on its return downtown. The long commute afforded plenty of time to exchange gossip and perform pranks. The long daily rides were part of our growing up time. It was where we became best friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, rivals, and enemies forever or at least for the day or week. I cannot recall the exact path the bus followed or all the specific stops, but I fondly remember a few crossroads and neighborhoods. After exiting High Street, we crossed near Westhaven, Oregon Acres along Portsmouth Boulevard and skirted Airline Boulevard along the way. Our daily commute took us near Academy Park, Alexander's Corner, Rollingwood, Century Homes, Simonsdale, Hodges Manor, Park Manor, Hodges Ferry, and then into the country which was Sunray, Jolliff Road, Bowers Hill. By way of the extended roadways of Portsmouth and Airline Boulevard we moved deep into Norfolk County where there were no sidewalks or subdivision names.
After the second grade, Little Flower (St. Therese) School opened in Oregon Acres and our daily bus ride was cut in half. Many of the same kids from St. Paul's were still my bus buddies. With my sister Catherine just starting school, the morning and afternoon rides were shorter but just as exciting as the downtown journeys from 1952 and 1953. As we got older our pranks and conversations got a little louder and bolder, but I think we remained a bunch of good kids.
From those Community Bus days I still recall drivers Mr. McKay (RIP) and Mr. Shotsenberger (RIP). I fondly remember the great kids who were my daily commuter pals; Tommy Bunting (RIP), Patty, Marshall Connely (RIP), Sandy, Mandy, Judith, Francis, Marvin, Mike Rooks (RIP), Margaret, Millard, Johnny, Zita, Keith, Jimmy, Chuck, Thomas Parsons (RIP), Diane, Eugene, Janice, Francine, Sharon, Jerry, John, Joyce, Paul, Tom, Wayne Smith (RIP), and so many more.
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