By Marilyn May
Milford History
The Waterbury Lock building at 203 Broadway employed hundreds of workers, often two generations from the same families. Photo courtesy of Marilyn May.
“Does anyone remember Waterbury Lock?”
That was a question once posted on one of the websites about Milford history that encourages people to reply and tell a little about their own history. Apparently, a lot of people remembered Waterbury Lock. There were 198 comments and another 183 likes.
From the comments, we can tell what it was like working in one of Milford’s early 20th century factories on the green when there was no air conditioning, work was repetitive and wages for young people ranged from $1.05 to $1.65 an hour.
WALSCO was the trade name for products manufactured by the Waterbury Lock and Specialty Company. It was founded in 1925 and moved from Waterbury to Milford in 1934. The move meant the factory was now close to the train line for shipping their products to New York. (It also meant workers had a pleasant place for lunch breaks on the green.)
Edward Peterson was president of the company until he had a stroke. Then business was run by his son, John Peterson, who retired in the 1970s. Waterbury Lock closed in 1983. The company made cigarette cases, suitcase locks, padlocks for bicycles, tape measures, eyelets, utility knives, fasteners and Beattie jet lighters that were designed to light pipes. And, of course, they made a lot of keys.
Many people recalled that their grandparents or parents worked there for many years, and others tell of their own time working there during summers or on weekends when they were as young as 16. The teenagers’ experiences were different from that of the workers who labored there for years and years. The young people knew it was not a job that would be their life’s work but were glad the company offered a lot of part-time work.
It seems that this one factory changed the lives of many young people.
“My mother worked there to help pay for college. A tremendous gift from my parents – debt free after college and law school. I do not know how they did it,” commented one man.
“I worked 6 hours after school to help my family,” wrote another.
“Lol. I thought I wanted to quit school, so I got a job there for 2 days, decided nope and went back to school,” another wrote.
“After working there one summer, I decided I was going to get a college degree,” chimed another.
Many commented focused on how hot the factory was:
“(I) worked on the top floor! Soooo hot!!”
“I worked there early ‘70s! It was so hot in there. I put the tiny locks together!”
“I remember that company. (I) had a job at 16 sitting in a circle with other people breaking lock castings off molds. Mind-numbing at $1.65 an hour!”
One post recalled: “I was there when some woman who’d been there for 35 years was being honored. She spent 35 years screwing name tags on tape measures. The people there were very nice but…I just couldn’t see myself there for the next 35 or 40 years working a press.”
One remembered a woman who “took her slip off through the top of her dress, because she was so hot! I was amazed.”
Others were apparently amazed at things, too.
“I worked there during a summer while I was in high school. Holy smokes. What a people education,” one person wrote.
“I worked there when I was 16 years old. We had good times.”
“I remember being treated with respect and had a lot of fun there. It was a great first job.”
“First job. I hitchhiked there, imagine.”
“Worked there the summer of 1963. Made enough money to purchase my first
car, a used 1958 Chevy Bel Air. My job was to clean ALL the outside windows! Over and over.”
One person said they helped make Key-Mates. “This was the round thing that clipped on your belt and held many keys; gym teachers and maintenance guys always wore them. There was an inner coil, and the keys extended so you could unlock a door without un-clipping the Key-Mate.”
And more complaints about the heat:
“… a nightmare memory. I worked there the summer of 70. Worked on the presses. Blazing hot, $1.60 an hour. Pure hell.”
There was always an optimist around. “Yes indeed!!! It was terribly hot but a great time to be young and alive.”
In 1990, when the new and current owners were converting the building into today’s “Green View” condo and office complex, one of the owners said many people stopped by to talk.
“That’s where I earned by movie money,” said one. “That’s where I met my wife,” said another.
A boy once told a story to John Peterson: “I remember when you chased me out of the dumpster when I was a kid looking for a lock for my bike. Then you told me to wait and brought one out for me from the shop.”
What many today recall as the Waterbury Lock building was built in 1875 by Albert A. Baldwin to house the Baldwin & Lampkin Shoe Manufacturing Co. The business of making shoes and boots started in a factory on Golden Hill Street. When they moved to their new building, they had modern factory machinery and employed 200 workers. It was so successful that in 1885 they enlarged the building. Unfortunately, the company fell on hard times and closed in 1903.
The next tenant was the Reeves Manufacturing Co. that made vacuum cleaners – or, as they advertised them, “suction sweepers.” Reeves made padlocks, spring motors, clockwork drives. They also were involved in sheet metal and boiler components. For a short time, Reeves made toys. Their mechanical, lithographed, tin or steel toys are highly sought after by collectors. The company made a “Midget Roller Coaster,” a carousal and an “Air-E Go-Round” toy with small airplanes that looked like an amusement park ride.
Reeves remained there until the building was purchased by Waterbury Lock in 1934. Then in 1961, Waterbury Lock acquired the Reeves Co. and started making some of the products Reeves had made.
There are many family stories that have been passed down through generations, and many memories from people today who worked there during their high school days. Lots of people today could add even more to the question: “Does anyone remember Waterbury Lock?”
What? Can’t remember if I was employed there , ever.