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Waterfall of Christmas surprises

As you may have noted before, our family moved into our new home on Genesee Avenue in December of 1940, right next door to a huge silver and black-painted stand pipe. It was used to store water that was pumped uphill from the water works at Mahoning and Summit to this, the highest point in Warren. It provided water pressure to the surrounding area.

Since it was winter when we moved in, and I was but five, I was warned to stay away from this humongous tower. Since it had no top, it could overfill and burp up great slabs of ice that would pop over the rim. Those slabs would come crashing down to the ground with a resounding, dull whump, and could easily kill someone standing below. That wasn’t much of a deterrent to a little kid. Scary? Yes. Prohibitive? No.

That stand pipe was really something to behold. Around the bottom were huge vertical threaded bolts about four feet high. Screwed to those bolts were gigantic nuts about eight inches across that cinched that tank down to its concrete base. The first course of riveted iron plate was painted black. Although I don’t believe the word graffiti had been coined yet, all the neighborhood kids tried their hand at writing and drawing on that inviting black enamel surface. I wonder who “Wormy” was?

I’d guess that the entire stand pipe was about 100 feet high. If you stood really close against it and looked up at the moving clouds in the sky, you’d swear that whole tower was falling over. Wow! And putting an ear to that huge tank’s wall revealed deep and ominous gurglings that would just scare the daylights out of you.

There was a caged-in ladder at the back, and some of the big boys would climb it, even though a padlocked iron maiden-type of steel enclosure around the first 12 feet of it precluded any sane person from climbing up and over it. Naturally, the big boys could be seen up at the top, sitting with their legs dangling from the grid that encircled the rim and hooting at the passersby. If the water in the tank was low, and someone fell in, they would be doomed. Those kids were either gutsy or crazy!

After World War II began, my dad had the water department saw off about 20 feet of the ladder for fear of saboteurs poisoning the water. It must have worked. Nobody I knew of was ever poisoned by the water.

On Christmas Eve of 1944, the stand pipe had a Christmas surprise for us. We had just come home from late church services to what sounded like a waterfall – because it was! The stand pipe was gushingly overflowing and hiccupping ice.

The water appeared to be inexorably and perilously creeping toward our house.

My dad in near desperation tried calling just about anybody he could think of to tell about this dangerous situation, but was rebuffed by some who thought that it was just a Christmas cheer-soaked joke being played on them. Besides, he was told, no such thing could possibly be happening.

Finally, the right guy was found. He showed up with a powerful electric lantern and climbed down into a bunker-like underground room and shut off the correct valve. He saved us and our home from a very wet Christmas.

That beautifully cared for stand pipe property of lawn and shrubs was a wonderful playground. We played all the kids’ games, like kick-the-can, hide-and-seek, Indian ball, softball and football. It was a great rendezvous for all the kids who were living nearby in that new, slowly-growing neighborhood. It was a great place to be at a great time in one’s life. It was almost too good to be true.

Then, inevitably I suppose, it happened. Some grown up decided that we kids were having way too much fun, and convinced the water department to have no trespassing signs erected on the property, which were studiously ignored. We still continued to play there. Then, somebody, probably that same old grouch (you think?), called the cops on us, and a cruiser was dispatched. We argued with the officers to no avail, so we were done with playing on that wonderful, kid-friendly stand pipe property.

Now, that stand pipe with its dull, oxidized, pale green mantle just solemnly sits there. I’ll bet if it could talk, it would tell how much it misses all the kids. A domed lid has been placed on its once open top, which should solve the ice problem. A cyclone fence encircles the tower keeping everyone at a safe distance. No big boys are going to climb up there now. There’s not a sign of a kid anywhere, but the no trespassing signs are still there. I understand the liabilities that the water works faces nowadays. Besides, kids could do a lot of damage to a huge tank made up of inches thick iron plate like writing “Wormy” on its flanks.

Mumford, of Warren, is a community columnist. Email him at columns@tribtoday.com

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