Carl: My grandmother, Big Hattie. Her grandfather was one of the people who established the Methodist church in Portsmouth... Monumental was the first Methodist church in Portsmouth. He was one of the founding members, so of course we went to Monumental Methodist Church in downtown Portsmouth. (The link suggests that the original church burned in 1864, and was rebuilt in 1872-76. Carl is probably referring to this time period with regards to his great-great-grandfather.)
I can't remember when they didn't shoot me off to Sunday school... they must have had classes for infants (laughs). By the time I was four or five, I had to show up at 9:30 every Sunday for Sunday school. Then I had a whole half-hour break before I had to go to church, eleven o'clock to twelve, or one if the preacher was going good, which they sometimes did. Then I had to go back at three in the afternoon to a young people's services, then I had to go back for Sunday night services, then I had to go to Wednesday evening services. That was routine. I learned to hate it. I still despise it.
Ellen: How old were you when you learned to hate it?
Carl: About the time I went to high school. I was old enough to say I'm not going to do it. Before that, I couldn't-- when you're nine or ten, you don't stand up, but by the time you're in high school-- I said, "I'm not going to do that." I said, "I'm not going to Sunday school, and I'm not going to church." And I haven't been since.
They used to give us a nickel-- which was a goodly chunk of money back then-- to drop in the collection plate at church. We had the half hour break between Sunday school and church, so we would walk down to the New York Delicatessen down on High Street, which was the only place that was open on Sunday back then, and buy-- there was a song written about this, called "A Nickel for a Pickle." A whole nickel... you bought a great big old kosher pickle. Not every Sunday, but many Sundays, my friends and I would slip down there and get ourselves a pickle. (There is still a New York Deli in Portsmouth, just off of High Street. I haven't been able to determine if it's the same building or not.)
Ellen: Were they floating in a barrel?
Carl: Yeah, you'd just look in the barrel and put a fork in, pick the one out you wanted-- the biggest one for the nickel-- and munch on it back to church.
Ellen: And I guess the deli was open because they were Jewish?
Carl: Yeah, back then the deli was absolutely the only thing that was open on Sunday. There were blue laws until... till the end of the thirties, movies weren't open on Sundays, stores weren't open-- one drugstore was open on Sunday, to handle prescriptions and things. Portsmouth was a small town then-- well, a small city--
Ellen: Well, they had the blue laws when I was a kid. Not as bad, but they did have them. When you went in the Army, they made you put your religion on your dogtag, didn't they?
Carl (with pride): I put "none."
Ellen: Really? You did that back then? They didn't give you a hard time about it?
Carl (firmly): I put "none." I was fully grown by then. Every record about me from high school on has "none." And I've meant it!
Ellen: I was just curious as to whether they made you...
Carl: No, by then we'd come a long ways. In the thirties, as I say, nothing was open in Portsmouth except for a drugstore. By the forties, we were playing Sunday baseball. Then the movies started to stay open... by the end of the war, we were like we are now, a seven-day week.
Ellen: I've got a little New Testament that was given to you with a note in the front by the President. Do you remember that?
Carl: No.
Ellen: Even if you were Jewish, did you get a New Testament?
Carl: I don't know. I don't think they had anything for atheists. Maybe if you were Buddhist... see, we had a lot of Chinese Americans come into the Army, and a lot of them were still Buddhist.
Ellen: That's what I was wondering, if they handed everyone the New Testament. I'll have to do some research on that...
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