Roy across the street was the maintenance man for this entire street when it was owned by one lady (except for four houses). He did sole maintenance for 363 apartments, six of which were in my house: two downstairs, three upstairs, and this carriage house apartment. (He would mow them all at once, in one 8-hour marathon, moving steadily down the street and stopping only to refill the gas tank.)
My sunroom was a barbershop, cuts for twenty-five cents. The front upstairs bedroom was the apartment of an elderly interracial couple (he was black, she was white, perhaps one of the first such couples, if not the first, in town). My kitchen was the bedroom of the downstairs apartment, the dining room was the kitchen, and the yellow room was subdivided into two halves, one being the living room of 304, the other the living room for 302. You can see where the floor has been repaired.
This is giving me a taste for more; the library has some records.
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