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    PAULINE KNISH MILLS: Pauline Knish was born July 10, 1919, at Windber, Pennsylvania.  She is the fifth child of the seven surviving,
    past infancy, children of Mihaly (Mike) and Anna Metro Knysz.  She and her family moved back to Cleveland after 1923 from the coal mining area of
    Scalp Level (Mine 40), Pennsylvania.  The family first settled into 605 Railway Avenue, moved to another home but returned to the Railway address
    for much of the 1930’s.  In another section of her memories not included here, she remembers being put into a special section for pupils who may
    have or looked liked they had tuberculous at Tremont School. She stayed in that class for over a year until she gained enough weight before she
    could be put back with "healthy" children. Pauline married Paul Mills in 1940, and moved to Arizona in the mid-1950’s.  Here is her memory.
    ******************
    “We came to Cleveland by which means is unclear, and moved into a house on 605 Railway Ave., the Southside, also called the “Flats.”  We
    occupied the second floor.  There was no hot water, no electricity and no bathroom facilities.  There was a small cubical in the hallway with only a
    small window and a toilet.  You pulled a chain and it released water from a box near the ceiling to flush the toilet.  Dad made a wooden box and
    nailed it to the wall.  We cut newspaper to fit into the box.  That was our ‘toilet paper’.  It was a miracle that the newspaper never plugged the toilet,
    by its daily use.

    “The house was evidently built to accommodate borders.  Each floor had a front and rear apartment, consisting of a kitchen, small living room
    which had a small closet.  Off the living room, a small windowless bedroom.

    “We occupied the entire second floor which provided us with two kitchen sinks and an outlet for a coal stove.  The rear unit also gave us extra
    bedrooms that we needed for the 9 people in the family.  The third floor was occupied by men, as well as the first floor rear.  Katy, the bootlegger,
    who lived in a house in the backyard, used the first floor front unit to store the bootleg whiskey.

    "Since we had no electricity, there was a gas fixture in the ceiling of both kitchens, which required a gas mantle.  It was made from material that
    resembles today’s fiberglass.  The mantle was attached to the fixture and the gas turned on slowly as the mantle was lit with a match.  The mantle
    expanded when lit and care had to be taken not to jar it or it would disintegrate.  The brightness was adjusted by the amount of gas released.  We
    always had extra mantles on hand because Uncle John (mother’s brother), a giant of a man, always forgot to duck when he came into the room.  

    "The other rooms were without lights.  So we spent most of the evenings in the kitchen or went to bed early.  It was a miracle the entire building didn’
    t go up in flames because it was a fire trap.

    "The men (upstairs) were drunkards and never cleaned their rooms.  Cockroaches and bedbugs were plentiful.  The darkness of the rooms
    provided a good breeding place for the ‘critters’.

    "The smells in the hallways were terrible.  The aroma of Katy’s whiskey trailed out when she opened the door.  The toilets on the 3rd floor and first
    floor were unbearable.  There we were living between two ‘evils.’

    "Katy’s whiskey was delivered by bootleggers in a big touring car, parked in the alley behind the house.  Two bootleggers each carrying a wooden
    keg took them to the first floor rooms.  The amount that she received depended on how good business was.  She watered down the ‘rot-gut’ and
    sold it for 25 cents a pint.  Even so it was very ‘potent’.  She wasn’t pestered by (the) police.  In fact, her daughter married the one that patrolled the
    area.

    "Down the embankment from our house was the railroad.  We opened windows in the summer to get a little air, but what we got was noise.  If the
    wind blew toward the house (**Added--south from Lake Erie) we would run to close the windows to keep smoke and soot from coming into the
    house.  Many times we weren’t fast enough and the house was filled with smoke.  In the winter we stuffed rags around the windows to keep the
    snow from blowing into the house.  The fire in the stoves went out during the night and all the windows froze.  Mom got up early and built fires in
    both stoves so that it would warm up for us.

    “There was an attic for the tenants to hang their wash.  It was no problem in the summer with the windows open, the clothes dried nicely providing
    you were fast enough to close the windows before the smoke and soot reached the attic.  But the winters were different.  All the wet clothes froze
    stiff.  Dad strung lines over the two stove for Mom to hang the frozen clothes to dry.  The clod dampness of the thawing clothes made the house
    unbearable.  

    “We all went to bed early to stay warm.  It was a miracle none of us got seriously sick.  We did have the usual children’s ailments—measles,
    chicken pox, etc.  In that period the health dept. quaranteed (sic) the house by putting a sign on the door forbidding anyone from leaving or entering
    until the quarantee (sic) period was over.  A visiting nurse made her rounds to check on the sick.  All the hardships that we endured living in tents in
    the woods of the coal mining area of Penn. must have conditioned us for what lay ahead in Ohio.  Winters were confining.  We read a lot or played
    records on our wind-up phonograph.

    “Summer vacations were spent at times in Lincoln Park or Brookside Park.  Mom often baked cookies made with ‘cracklins’ (**Added--rendered
    chicken, beef or pork fat) which we really enjoyed.  A sandwich (mostly peanut butter), cookies, an apple, if available, was our lunch for the entire
    day at the park.

    “Eventually we moved away from Railway for awhile, because I remember moving back, but this time to the third floor.  By then the gas mantles
    were gone and there was electricity, but not in all the rooms.  The boarders were gone and rooms somewhat cleaned.  No hot water nor bathroom
    facilities.

    “We had an ice-box in the kitchen.  We bought ice from the ice peddler who made deliveries in a horse-drawn wagon.  Also during the week there
    was a peddler who sold fruit and vegetables from a horse-drawn wagon.  Mom bought what she needed from him whenever she couldn’t go to the
    25th Street Market.  Mom always made a crock full of dill pickles for the winter.  My favorites were the quartered apples that she added to the
    pickles.  When cabbage was plentiful she also made a large crock of sauerkraut.  For Dad, she made his favorite, ‘pickled pigs’ feet’.  Our Sunday
    dinners were special because we had dessert—“Jello”—always “Jello.”  We all went to church while Mom stayed home and prepared the dinner.

    “As we got older and married and left home, the parents left Railway to other locations.  The house, in which we grew up through hard time and fun
    times, was finally demolished after all the families left.”

    Pauline Knish Mills, March 5, 1990.
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