Growing Up In Burlington, Vermont (1945-1953)

I was born on September 23, 1945, in Bishop Degoesbriand Hospital in Burlington, Vermont, and spent most of the first 8 years of my life in Burlington.

My First Day Home in Burlington, Vermont, September 1945

My two older brothers, Warren (3 years older) and Steve (4 years older) were also born at that hospital. My father and my mother were both born in Maine, grew up during the Depression, and somehow both managed to graduate from the University of Maine but not without an extreme frugality that came from living through that era. My father had also received his master’s degree from the University of Maine and in 1945 was working for the Agronomy Department at the University of Vermont in Burlington, Vermont.  Many of the these memories come from stories my older brother Warren shared with me over the years.

Our family lived in houses near the University on School Street, Booth Street, Main Street, or elsewhere depending upon the amount my dad could negotiate for a year lease. In the summer he would try to sublease the house to students and we would move to our “Camp” on Spaulding West Shore on Lake Champlain, Vermont from June to August.

Steve Smith, Pete Smith, Warren Smith and Mom at Camp on Lake Champlain, Vermont, 1946                        

If Dad could not sublet the house, he would give up his lease and we had to move all the furniture to the Camp and then back to town again when school started. He also had to find a place to stay until the next summer. When we finally moved to a permanent home in Lafayette, Indiana, it was the 19th move of the family.

Steve Smith, Warren Smith, Pete Smith, and Dad 

Leaving Camp in Vermont for Lafayette, Indiana 1953

Next door lived Harry S. Howard, son of Civil War General Oliver O. Howard, founder of Howard University and a Medal of Honor recipient.  My brother Warren often visited him and was fascinated by the Indian artifacts, Civil War memorabilia, and signed documents from Lincoln and Grant displayed throughout the house.

My brothers and I always sought ways to make some money.  We would go out with a wagon and collect paper, cardboard, and cans which we would flatten before putting them in the wagon. There was a scrap yard a few blocks from us that would give us ½ a cent a pound for the paper, which seemed like big money. Collecting bottles around construction sites gave us 2-cent deposits and milk bottles 5 cents. Snow storms were a great money maker and we would hit the neighborhood early charging at most 25 cents a walk. Most houses were close to the sidewalk. We had some customers who were regulars. If we got a few pennies in our pocket, there was an IGA store just a block away that sold penny candy. At some point, we had an allowance of 25 cents a week. Within walking distance were several movie theaters with the movie 12 cents with a 3-cent luxury tax. There always seemed to be a cowboy movie playing at least one of them starring Roy Rogers, Gene Autrey, Lash Larue, Hop-along-Cassidy, or the Lone Ranger that drew us in. If the candy and popcorn didn’t get the remaining 10 cents, the 5&10 Stores on the way home did. My brother Steve was the only one to bring home change to be saved.

My dad always sought ways to save money. He used a University camera for his work and always saved the last shots on the film roll to take pictures of us and get them developed at the University’s expense. When he traveled on the University expense account, he got a set per diem amount and always tried to stay with a farmer attending one of his field days or in the most reasonable rooming house in the area. The barber shop we went to was only about 6 blocks from our house and my dad would take all three of us along with him when we needed a haircut. He had a deal with the barber to give him a cut rate if he cut all of our hair. Across the street was the Nearly New Shop where my mom bought a lot of our clothes. This is where I got the name “Poor Peter”. The clothes were previously worn and then handed down from Steve to Warren and finally to me, Poor Peter, getting what was left of them.

The one time I remember him being a "big spender" was when he took the family on a train out of Burlington to Montreal, Canada to an Ice Follies show. We went to a pretty nice restaurant that had a tablecloth and menu. After the meal, I went running through the restaurant to him yelling, “Dad you left a quarter on the table.” He wanted to hide his head as it was a pretty cheap tip for the meal we had.

The University was a favorite place to go with the first stop at the Union Building. We went from end to end checking all the machine’s change returns to see if we could find a coin left behind. There was a university dairy that made wonderful ice cream as part of the training. There was a large gym with a track for winter running, basketball practice, and gymnastics equipment. There were greenhouses with a lot of different and exotic plants. It was really exciting to go to the University Farm about a quarter mile from the house as they would let us adopt a calf that we could feed after school.

Next to the University was Taft Elementary School where we went to school. The first-grade teacher Miss Fisher lived half a block away from us and my mom would make cookies for her and one of us would take them to her. She passed Steve on even though he could not read. He wanted to quit first grade. The second-grade teacher Mrs. South made Steve spend 2 years with her until he could read. Steve went on from there to become a Rhodes Scholar.

Taft School was a two-story school that had a gym and stage for various events. When the inner com came on with a march we would march down to the gym for the event. I remember one day hearing the music, going to the gym, being told to line up, and getting polio shots- all of us, no exceptions. Recess was always a big deal. The playground had big swings, a teeter-totter, and a Jungle Jim. Spring was for digging holes in the ground with your heel by pounding it down and spinning around. This was in preparation for shooting marbles to it. We were all proficient at this game and Warren still has a small suitcase full of our winnings. Winter time was for rolling large snowballs to make forts and then planning raids on another class's fort with a snowball attack. 

Looking back, Burlington was a wonderful place to be a child.  We had very little money, moved constantly, wore hand-me-down cloths, and learned early the value of work and thrift.  The freedom to roam the neighborhood, the closeness of family, the University environment, and the simple pleasures of childhood gave me memories that have remained vivid.  Burlington was where my story began.