Prohibition & Rum Running in Humarock

River look-outs, making sure the coast is clear.

If you have read my past story of the SC 41 Submarine Chaser that ended up on the Hanover Flat (and was used as a summer retreat), as well as the one on Leon Hatches Boat Yard, you now could be ready for “rum running” in Humarock.

For nearly 14 years, 1919 to 1933, our country was dry! It really wasn't, but selling alcohol was illegal. It didn't take long for the “swamp Yankees” to turn to “rum running.”

Illegal contraband liquor was a profitable enterprise for the water people. Boat motors were quickly converted over to more powerful and faster ones, and the insides of vessels were gutted for more space. A schoolmate, Alfred A., told me that his stepfather’s lobster boat was a “rum runner.” It had a big motor in it, and was quite narrow for a lobster boat.

Safe unloading areas were located. Bays, harbors, rivers, creeks, and other landing spots were found. Humarock was one of these safe places -- or at least more safe than other harbors. Federal funding was weak and the revenuers had to spread themselves thin.

This was an ideal drop off spot, just off the South River.

The North River mouth was the water highway out to the mother ships that were waiting three miles out to unload their contraband into smaller boats and dories. A very reliable source told me that most of the dories came from Hatch's Boat Yard and gunning stand. Others came from the North River. Most of the dories were powered by two rowers.

On a good night, a row out to the “Mother Ship” and back, took most of the darkened hours, depending on the weather. On occasion, unfavorable weather would delay the boatmen’s return. Daylight would give them away, so they would row up into a remote creek, cover their dory with marsh grass, and hunker down for the day with nothing to eat or drink! Or nothing to eat! Up to 20 cases could be safely stacked in the dories, however greed and poor judgment sent many boats floundering and losing their contraband. Some of this contraband would find its way to shore, where scavengers would find liquid gold!

Lookouts were needed to warn the boatmen of any danger that may come about. Lookout posts were stationed from the Sea Street Bridge to Fourth Cliff.

The lookout on the bridge was a well known local that had a non-drinking reputation, and liked to fish. His gear was a tin bucket, bait, a sharp knife, a hand line, a flashlight and cigarettes. Time on was 9 or 10 pm; off was daylight, rain or not. If the boats were out, you were on. Over would go the line, baited or not. Sometimes this lookout was joined by a friend -- his line would go over with a bottle of hooch tied on the end. This was to be retrieved periodically.

The hooch was unloaded at various locations. The cases were picked up by Chevy 6-cylinder panel trucks. Chevys were quieter than the Ford Model A’s. Canvas snap-on signs were attached to each side with a local milk company logo.

I was told, by the same reliable source, that only once, during this guard’s time on the bridge, did he have to call off a landing.

One night, just before midnight, a big black Packard with four men inside, strangers, stopped on the bridge and asked where so-and-so's cottage was. The fisherman gave them directions, and off they went. The fisherman/guard flashed a signal to the lookout on the point down river, and the signal was passed on to the cliff.

That night’s truck was turned around and left. No one else ever reported seeing the car or the men. No one saw them leave; no one reported using so-and-so’s cottage. However, this was a subject not discussed, and questions were unthinkable.

My late friend Phil, a Seaview native, told me the following. It seems that Charlie, Phil's father, took a walk to Pine Island. While coming back, just off the walkway, he saw a newly tracked path in the marsh grass. Off he went to investigate. He found something that was covered over with marsh grass. A case of 11 bottles of hooch!

Even though Charlie was a teetotaler, he was not going to leave this find. He covered it back up and waited until dark. Charlie made his way back through the cedar grove to the edge of the marsh, found the case of hooch, then made it home without being seen, he hoped! He stashed the case in the cellar, where his wife would not find it, as she was death against alcohol.

Within a few days, word reached Charlie, that Wally, a heavy drinker, was on a killing rage. It seems that someone stole his property from The Island. He was telling everyone in Seaview that if he found out who stole his property, he was going to kill them!

You see, the property was never Wally's. He probably found it stashed in one of the creeks by a boatman. Charlie never uttered a word. Some of Charlie's friends enjoyed a holiday gift!

 Chevrolet panel truck, much like the trucks used to deliver
illegal liquor to the speakeasies.

Ray Freden, Seaview resident, 60 years.

A Seaview Kid Goes Shopping

In the 40s, Marshfield did not offer much but basic shopping. The A&P, First National, Wherrity's drug store and soda fountain, Feinberg's clothing store, a general store here and there.

There were traveling vendors -- Hathaway's Bakery Bread, a black and white Chevy panel truck, Smitty was the breadman. There were drawers that would roll out to get the donuts and pastries. The White Brothers milk truck would stop at our house. Herby delivered the milk bottles with the bulb in the top where the cream would settle, a cardboard disc pressed into the top. There was a meat vendor and a fish vendor but I can't remember them by name.

A short drive to Scituate gave my folks much more to choose from. A much larger A&P, an Italian delicatessen. My Mom would buy a wedge of parmesan cheese that would be shredded on our pasta dinner. A 5&10 that I couldn't get enough of. Welch's Hardware Store, where my Dad always had to get something. My Dad & I would get our hair cut at Larry's Barber Shop. We would stop at the Quincy Gas Station at the beginning of Front Street to get a dollar’s worth of gas -- I think gas was under 15 cents a gallon -- that would take the old Chevy and Dad to the Greenbush Train Station all week.

Other shopping trips would be to Rockland, Brockton or Quincy. The Rockland trips were to the Thom McAn shoe store and to Woolworth’s 5&10 cent store, to buy baby chickens. Yes, chickens -- the baby chicks would be in a long high box on the counter with lightbulbs hanging down to keep the chicks warm. Dad would have to lift me up to pick out the most lively ones. I remember some were dyed pink. There was no way to tell which were hens or roosters. Dad always wanted 6 to 8 hens and 4 roosters. The roosters were for the holidays. Many times we got more roosters than hens, so therefore, more holidays.

Brockton was a favorite city for my folks to shop. Both parents were born and brought up there. Sears and Roebuck was the first stop. To park in the rear, you would drive through an opening between two buildings with a large structure above, a rather unusual entrance that intrigued me. This store always had plenty of bikes for me to drool over.

After my folks finished shopping, there was always a stop at the Swedish Bakery on the corner. I will never forget the smell of the freshly baked goods. My Mom would have to buy two loaves of Swedish rye, one for the ride home and one for home. Also a package of knackebrod, a Swedish crisp bread. It came in a paper package glued up on the bottom, so we always opened it from the bottom. Out came a thin, round, greyish brown, cracker-like bread with a hole in the center. It could be broken into pieces easily. I have not seen this round version for years. Now it’s Wasabrod -- Wasa crisp bread -- now cut rectangular. How dull. My Dad said the hole in the middle was to hang it on a pole in the old bakeries. You could buy as many pieces as you wished and the baker would wrap it with brown paper off a large roll, then he would tie it with string. The last Swedish bakery I remember was in Hanover. I do miss that smell and tearing that round loaf of rye open, and eating it dry-raw.

by Ray Freden
Marshfield resident 70 years, Seaview resident 60 years.