Joe Hudock enjoying his daily walk through Minersville. PHOTOS COURTESY OF PEGGY DALLAGO
Originally published in the Pottsville Republican-Herald on January 2, 2021.
Joe Hudock was a man who thought of himself in the past tense.
“I lived a good life and had a good wife,” he used to say.
I first met Hudock, who died Dec. 5 at the age of 96, on Minersville Spirit Day in 2019. We spoke only briefly, but it was one of the most memorable interviews of my career.
His thoughts dwelled on the past. It was his connection to the past that made him so significant that day. As one of the few people who could remember the “olden days” of Minersville, he gave a speech at the local fire company. While the rest of the town had a parade, Hudock sat in his home on New Castle Street, eating cheese puffs and watching the Eagles game. A dance remix of “Old Town Road” blared from outside. On the wall in a golden frame was a portrait of “my gal,” his wife, Catherine, who died in 2007. She would bake a cake every year for the Spirit Day bake sale. Every surface in his living room was filled with photographs of his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Joe and Catherine
“What can I say?” Hudock told me as the parade passed him by. “You see, mostly all my friends are passed away. I know a few people, but the fellas that I used to play with, most of them are all passed away.”
From our conversation, I got the impression that Hudock was a lonely man. When I reached out to his family after his death, I discovered a much more complex portrait of a man who exemplified the simple glories of small-town life.
“I saw my dad every day in his final years,” said his daughter Peggy Dallago, 58. “We were so very blessed and fortunate to have him in all our lives. He made the most of every day and didn’t need much to make him happy. He loved his family, friends, neighbors, his church, service to his country and golfing.”
Joe Hudock was born Dec. 7, 1924, in Branchdale. On his 17th birthday, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. After graduating from high school, he joined the Army. He loved telling the story of his first day on the ship headed overseas. The captain told the men that if the ship sank, there wouldn’t be enough lifeboats for everyone. That night, he slept on the deck next to the lifeboat, “just to be safe.”
When World War II ended, he was stationed in Yokohama and was a prison guard for none other than Tokyo Rose. He loved telling this story, too.
“He would say the war was terrible,” remembered his daughter Mary Ann Harvilla, 66. “But he was so proud to serve his country.”
After the war, he got a job as a machinist at ALCOA. He was a lifelong member of the Mountaineers Fire Company in Minersville. Hudock was an avid golfer, getting his first hole-in-one when he was 81 years old. Every day, he took a walk down Fourth Street in Minersville, giving the thumbs up to everyone he saw. When he got home from his walk, he’d grab a beer and listen to the radio.
“He was the first one to call you on your birthday and sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” Dallago remembered, “and put you on the Birthday Polka Train.”
Every spring, he made sure to have a vase of pussy willows, Catherine’s favorite flower. He captured every Christmas, Easter, parade and First Communion, either with home movies or his 35mm camera. In the winter, he would take his kids sleigh riding and ice skating at Stoyer’s Dam in Schuylkill Haven.
“Jarring jelly, canning, cooking, always in the kitchen with family and friends were the happiest times and pleasures,” said Joe’s son Joseph Hudock, 68. “Then off to church and bingo!”
Harvilla remembered “daddy” as a great cook who you could always ask for advice on making a turkey ham. He was famous for his homemade pickles and hot bologna (often too hot for his children). Every Christmas, the Hudocks would make pasta from scratch.
Christmas Eve 2020.
Hudock with some of his jars of pickled foods.
“There was enough to feed an army,” Dallago said. “We are going to give it our best shot this year, but we know it won’t be the same.”
When Joseph was 9, he and his dad started making kielbasa. Joseph passed the tradition down to his son and grandson.
“My dad was always there for our family,” Joseph said, “through good times and difficult times, no matter the circumstances. My dad had many strengths, but above all his faith was his life’s legacy. My dad could go to a function anywhere and during his time spent there could make several new friends. He had the ability to befriend all.”
Dallago remembers accompanying Hudock on one of his annual visits to Fort Indiantown Gap, to pay his respects to family and friends buried there. At a diner in Pine Grove, he struck up a conversation with a bearded truck driver from North Carolina. Hudock joked that the driver ought to cut his beard off. After discovering that Hudock served in World War II, the truck driver paid for his breakfast.
Hudock pays his respects to a friend in Indiantown Gap Cemetery.
I was wrong about Joe Hudock, and I couldn’t be happier to be wrong. There are many words that you can use to describe him and his life, but “lonely” is certainly not one of them.
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