Reply #2: late 1970s

[unionworks]

I moved into Victorian house built 1845. Woke on a sunny Sunday a.m. with a hangover, went to have coffee on huge back porch. To my amazement, there wa a pretty young lady sitting on the steps. I asked her who she was, she said she was a friend of a girl who used to live there. We talked a bit, then she got up and left. I walked around the corner for a parting look - no one there. A neighbor, a WW2 8th Air Force vet, informed me I had met one of the original inhabitants. Then he bought me a drink in the eighborhood tavern that was just about as old- it had a rail to set your feet on and a gutter to spit your tobacco juice into. :-)