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Chapter 3: Life at 459 Pugsley Street -
        Telephone: Wasatch 7399W (a party line)


               We lived in a yellow brick home at 459 Pugsley Street in Salt
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        Lake City. My parents had previously rented homes on 3  West Street
        (around the corner from my Grandfather) and one a block away on Pug-
        sley Street. When my Dad was about to purchase 459, his father inter-
        vened because “He did not want his son in debt to a bank.” Accordingly,
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        short time.
               Ours was a big, old home that gave a sense of solidity that we
        felt psychologically. The walls were unusual in that they were construct-
        ed of one brick with its length facing outside and there were two bricks
        placed endwise behind it. As a result, it was superbly insulated. There
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        another in the dining room and one in each of the two large bedrooms
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        or the two back bedrooms ever being opened. Most homes had rooms
        with ceilings at the eight-foot level; ours had inside walls ten feet high.
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        The parlor was only used on special occasions. The living room had
        a couch and chairs including my Dad’s favorite, which was called a
        Morris Chair, which was upholstered but had wooden arms. Our radio
        and phonograph were also situated there. The dining room had a nice
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        The kitchen was a large room and we had a large round table. All meals
        were eaten there except for Sunday dinner (at about 1 p.m. Sunday after-
        noon) or when we had guests. There was a screened back porch which
        we kids loved in the summer because it was a cool place to sleep, espe-
        cially when summer rainstorms brought rolling thunder and the glorious
        sound of rain on the shingled roof above us.
               Years before I could remember, my Dad had seen a boiler on a
        junkman’s wagon. He bought the boiler and re-tubed it. It became the
        furnace in the basement under the house. Dad also bought and installed

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