The Milkman

In the dark ages of the 1940s, milk did not come from supermarkets or the corner store. It was delivered right to your door by the milkman. This was an environmentally friendly system. The milk came in glass bottles that were retrieved on subsequent visits, cleaned at the dairy and reused. The milkman drove a horse and wagon, so the only fuel required was oats.

The milkman sold tickets that were good for various products. You rinsed your empty bottles and left them outside the door, with a list of your requirements and the appropriate tickets. He picked up the empties and left you new full bottles. You could buy whole pasteurized milk, homogenized milk, chocolate milk, and cream.

The whole milk would separate, and my mother could pour the cream off the top for my father’s coffee. In the winter, the milk would sometimes freeze and pop the cardboard lid, leaving a little column of frozen cream or milk above the top of the bottle, with the lid sitting on it like a little hat.

The milkman had metal baskets with 10 or 12 compartments in them to carry the bottles. You could hear the bottles clinking and clanking as he made his way up the stairs of our apartment building.

The horse had to wait while the deliveries were being made. It was a placid animal, but it was very big and we children had a healthy respect for it. Sometimes the milkman would put a leather feedbag on the horse before making his deliveries. The horse would munch contentedly on the oats while it waited at the curb. They chew sideways!

Other times the horse was expected to wait without food, but there was a small Spirea bush on the lawn in front of the building, and apparently if you are a horse, Spirea leaves are a delicacy. The horse, unable to resist temptation, would mount the curb, pulling the front of the wagon onto the sidewalk, and proceed to snack on the bush. We would watch and wait excitedly for the milkman to come out and deal with this. He would have to disengage the horse from the bush and encourage it back onto the street, and he would not be pleased. It was very entertaining.

In the winter, the cart wheels were replaced by runners that were more effective in the snow. Some of the older boys liked to chase the cart and hang on the back, riding the runners. If the milkman caught them he would stop and yell at them and make them get off. It was not a very safe activity, but there wasn’t much traffic in those years, and the horse did not go very fast. I never saw anyone get hurt.

Now we all buy our milk in plastic bags or single use cardboard at the store and drive it home in our cars several times a week. Milkmen and horses are no longer employed. And there are no rails to ride in the winter. Progress, they say.