My dad grew up in Barrington Illinois in the 1920s. Then it was a farm town far from the wealthy suburb it is today. It was the end of the Chicago and Northwestern commuter rail line. Dad said he and a lot of his pals would hang out at the roundhouse “helping” the locomotive crews to turn the steam locomotives around to head back into the city of Chicago.
Life was simpler then. My grandfather was a tool and die maker so any problems with the familys old model T ford was handled by gramps. Dad said he used to lift the engine out of the car and bring it to the basement to work on. My grandmother died when my dad was very young so he and his two brothers were pretty much on their own. Dad was the family cook. He was given 50 cents a day by gramps to buy groceries. My father always bought chicken hearts because they were cheap. Smart move as he pocketed the money left over from the grocery expenses. Got to a point were the family could not stomach anything to do with chicken hearts.
In those days Barrington had one sheriff who kept the peace. I imagine it was much like the fictional Mayberry. Barrington in those days was a small sleepy farmtown no actual crime per say. The only time the sheriff had to deputize a posse was Halloween. That was done to keep the kids in line. Dad said the biggest “trick” in those days was tipping the out houses over. Really. One Halloween my dad and my two uncles set out to do the dastardly tipping scene. The house had just toppled over when the kids heard a voice, “HEY YOU KIDS WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE”. It came from one of the deputies. My uncle John, startled, lost his footing and fell into the septic pit. They said before he could enter the house he had to strip outside and get hosed down. This is proof crime does not pay.