Time Traveling the Chazy Lake Road

                                                                Noel’s  Store

A memoir from Richard King                                                                         

     Noel’s Store was a very important part of the Chazy Lake community.  It stood in a hollow alongside a clear, small stream populated by tiny brook trout.  It was next to this stream that Sullivan King (Séraphin Roy) built his home.  He also built a water-powered sawmill next to the brook.  Likely the lumber from this mill was used in the construction of his barns and sheds and, possibly, the house itself.  A turn of the century photograph  shows Sullivan well-dressed and wearing a derby hat while seated on the lower level of this home.  Somewhat above him one would find a sign which announced BEER because Sullivan did indeed brew and sell this malt beverage.  On the northwest side of the house stood a frame cow barn and near-by there was a smoke house along with several other buildings including the last remaining one which I examined at one time.  It was timber-framed with the heavy wooden members secured with hardwood pegs.  After more than one hundred years of service it still stands proudly.  Later in life Sullivan and his wife Mary sold the farm and moved away.  The house and farm changed hands several times until purchased by Frank Noel.

     Earlier Frank had been a brakeman on the Delaware and Hudson Railroad which served the mines at Lyon Mountain.  Frank had lost one arm as the result of an accident during his work for the railroad.  As I recall he and his wife had four sons who operated the dairy farm while Frank and his wife ran a mom-and-pop style grocery store.  He still sold beer but didn’t brew it.  There were two daughters as I remember.  One died as a teen-ager.  The other one was Roma, a wonderful person, who was my 4H club advisor and lived with her husband across the road from the store.  All of the boys were older than I so I only know the two younger ones, Robert and Gerald.  Robert also died young.  Another son, John I believe, married a lady who was my Latin and French teacher in Lyon Mountain High School.  She would take us for a class trip each year to Montreal for a tour.  I liked Mrs. Noel.

     When I was younger I attended the Chazy Lake School which was only about 100 yards east of the store with nothing in-between except the original stone school which was then occupied by an older gentleman.  A walked or rode by the Noel store every school day for six years.  At the time, I knew that it had been built by my great-grandfather; yet, we always referred to it as Noel’s Store.

     Thinking about food always evokes memories for me.  And so, I can almost smell the whole stalk of ripening bananas which hung from the ceiling as well as the oranges and apples in boxes.  Some things didn’t smell as good to me– the dried herring, the pickled eggs in brine, and the barrel filled with dill pickles.  If one wanted some peanut butter, Frank would scoop some out from a barrel and place the desired amount in a paper bag.  I always marveled at his skill at slicing baloney.  This long, round tube was normally stored in an ice chest.  Since Frank had lost his arm above the elbow he would use a safety pin to secure the unused flap.  He did have, however, enough of his arm left to hold the big tube of baloney with the stub of his arm and his rib cage.  He had a huge section of elm tree trunk standing vertically three and one half feet high that served admirably as a surface for chopping and slicing meat.  He sliced each piece of baloney with a large carving knife, and I was always amazed at how he could always anticipate exactly how many slices it would take to make a pound.  Also, in small wooden barrels, there were pink or white puffy, marshmallow cookies.  One would simply count out the number needed and pay accordingly.  And, yes, there was a candy counter.  Soda pop was kept chilled in a red Coca-Cola cooler.  Then, too, there were bags of potato chips and pop corn.

     On the left side of the front counter there was a narrow box.  Inside were rows of  customers’ accounts.  Many folks charged for food and paid up at the end of the month although we always paid cash.  There were also two or three punch cards for taking a chance on a prize.  One had to match some girls’ names to win.  I can’t recall now how much it cost and never knew anyone who did win.  There may have been other kinds of gaming, but I wasn’t privy to that.  Sometimes a short but stocky city slicker would come in.  A fierce-looking Doberman pincher always stood next to his left side.  I pictured him as a gangster.  Possibly he represented the “insurance racket”, but who knows?

     On nice summer days, when I had the urge for a treat, Peter Garcia and I would walk along the highway, one on each side, in search of discarded pop or beer bottles. The small bottles could be refunded for two cents each and the quart-sized ones would fetch a nickel.  In those days there no non-returnable bottles and no cans since metal was needed for the war effort.  World War II was on.  Also, some folks drank beer while driving and would fling their discards into the ditch.  During these forays in search of bottles we would often find enough to each have one bottle of grape Nehi and occasionally a five-cent bar of Hershey’s chocolate.  It was much later before I learned to appreciate Mrs. Noel’s patience.  In anticipation, we would ring the bell.  She would stop her house work, descend the stairs, credit us for our bottles, and sell us our treat. 

     Many years later I stopped at Noel’s store to show my wife the house built by my great-grandfather.  Gerald Noel came out to greet us, and he showed us a photograph of the old house with Sullivan seated on the porch while a dozen or so other folks stood for the picture.

     Growing up in Chazy Lake has awarded me many good memories.  It is best if I don’t mention too much about being a young teen who geared up enough courage to purchase a package of Wing’s cigarettes for twelve cents and two bottles of beer for not a lot more.  My friend, Jimmy L., and I thought that we were really grown up as we consumed them.                                                    #          #          #

 6/8/08   Richard King

Noel’s Store