Heat on
Dover Street
by Carrie Houlihan

In 1957, the first floor apartment on Dover Street had a piano. The kids loved to clank the keys and make a racket. 

Three girls and two boys. After being there for almost 2 years, and now with a new baby, the O’Neils jumped at the vacancy of the slightly larger apartment on the second floor. There was no easy way to move the piano, so it was left behind. The upstairs apartment was heated by kerosene stoves that were stationed in the kitchen and in the living room. It was 8-year-old Gary’s job to refill the kerosene when the stoves got low or ran out. Next to the new baby, he was the youngest. The kerosene was collected outside in the shared yard. It sat there in a horizontal 55 gallon metal drum propped up on a wooden rack. A spigot was on the side with a lock. He tried to be as steady as possible to not spill the kerosene on his way back to the house and up the stairs.

The heaters worked fine during the day when everyone was gathered together, or had their bedroom doors open, but nighttime was a different story of struggling to accumulate warmth.

Being the only two boys, Gary and Joe-Pete shared a room. The room was only big enough for one bed, so Gary would often wake up from a punch in the back from his older brother, who was fighting for space on the mattress. Blankets were sparsely stretched among everyone, so coats were pulled out of trunks and closets to add to the pile. Their mother had furs from a former life she had before marriage and children, and they were put to good use in the winter months. When Spring came back around, routines and attitudes changed, and the children were wild.

With one of their mother’s fur coats still in their bedroom, Joe took inspiration from another wild boy - Davy Crockett: King of the Wild Frontier. The television miniseries and feature film had been popular for a few years now and Davy just so happened to wear a fur hat, complete with a tail.

Joe, being the ever entertainer, fetched his mother’s sewing kit and sheers, and got to work. It’s easy to fly under the radar when there are many children in the house, all vastly different and adding to the chaos. Their parents, both working, busy, and occasionally looking for a moment to look the other way. Joe worked steadily and produced hats for every member of the family. Good quality hats stitched from a former good quality coat. When he was finished he proudly marched through the house singing ‘Davy, Davy Crockett - King of the Wild Frontier’ and placed a hat on every head. His mother had questions. What had started out as rejoicing by the siblings tapered off to a hush as they distanced themselves from the culprit. Joe was asked to produce the coat, or what was left of it. His mother held it and sighed, she wasn’t in the habit of wearing it anyway.