Back in the day, there was an old joke that if one of your kids didn’t look like the others, your husband ought to take a gander at the milkman. The only thing worse than having one child look like the milkman, the joke went, was having all of your children look like him.[1] Yes, milkmen had the reputation of being the Lotharios of their day.
You have to be of a certain age to remember when the milkman was a regular fixture in the neighborhood. He would arrive at your house early in the morning after Dad left for work and you left for school. You would only see him in the summer months, walking toward the back porch with his large wooden milk crate, and hear the clinking of the bottles as he pulled the empties out of your family’s insulated milk box, and replaced them with cold, condensation-covered fresh ones.
Because we had a large family, the milkman came to our house every other day and knew my mother well. My mother was a virtuous woman so the milkman jokes were always lost on me until recently, when I learned our milkman once mentioned to her that if she didn’t have enough money to pay the bill, there were other “alternatives.” Sheesh.
As I thought about those days, my mind began to wander. Why did the milkmen suddenly disappear from the scene? And what happened to the dairy farms and the dairy plants they worked for? We had a thriving dairy plant—Spark’s—not far from where we lived on the West Side of Buffalo. Sadly, Spark’s closed in 1962, along with 30 or so other Erie County milk plants that shut their doors in the sixties. According to one report, 972 milk plants across New York state closed between 1960 and 1981.[2]
So what happened? Well, a number of things. First, supermarkets with refrigerated cases became ubiquitous. Second, mothers began to go to work. Third, many families got a second car and Mom could pick up milk on her way home from work while shopping for other groceries. Home delivery of milk became superfluous. Dairy farming also changed. According to one article I read[3], the farmers of the 1960s learned to farm during the Great Depression and operated on a “cash” basis. They didn’t encourage their sons and daughters to borrow money to continue the family farm, and many of their children went off to college, never to return to farming. Large, industrial scale dairy farms replaced small local dairies, and fewer local milk plants and delivery men were needed.
Now home milk delivery is making a comeback. Increasingly skeptical of food processed by big corporations, people in many parts of the country are turning to local farms and dairies for “farm to table” staples. According to a New York Times article[4], a “milkman renaissance” is underway, with consumers apparently willing to pay a premium for a gallon of home-delivered milk. It remains to be seen whether the new “renaissance” milkman will earn the same scandalous reputation as the milkmen of the past. If so, swimming pool cleaners and pizza delivery guys may have some competition.
Do you remember the milkman? Send me your stories!
[1] Don’t ask me how often this occurred. There are no accurate statistics. But given the number of books written about this topic, I imagine it happened. In 2018, Anna Burns won the Man Booker Prize for her novel, Milkman, which explores this old trope.
[2] There are interesting statistics on this. See https://dairymarkets.org/PubPod/Reference/Library/DIS.1982.pdf
[3] https://madison.com/business/decline-of-the-dairy-farm—-what-happened/article_fc7cb66f-c40a-585c-ac9c-71e279b8275e.html
[4] https://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/16/business/yourmoney/16milk.html
Correction: my correct email address is jl@baazooka86.com. Forgot the, “.com” part. Thanks John LaDuca
Very nice memory and article. Thanks. I vaguely remember our milkman. I think corner milk machines were starting to replace the milk man back in my day. I more remember the dedicated milk boxes that were built into the back of houses that had two doors. One on the exterior, and one on the interior wall where milk bottles and other dairy products such as cheese and butter could be accessed by either side.
I enjoy your blogs….greatly! I had to laugh as my son is very tall for our family, so the milkman has always been joked about. I do remember the milkman! Also, your “gardens” blog….I have a black thumb unfortunately, but memorial gardens are always on my mind. They truly are a healing place, and I’m so grateful for the most beautiful places that were chosen for my loved ones. Thank you for sharing all of your heartfelt writing.