In the early 40's, I fell in love with Ann Sheridan. Ann Sheridan, "The Oomph Girl", so she was labeled, hit a certain chord within my emerging awareness of the opposite sex. I was able to see Ann on Saturday afternoons, which were spent at the Monroe Theater in Rochester, New York. The theatre was located on Monroe Avenue, appropriately enough.
We had moved from Webster Avenue to Laburnum Crescent, about a half-block off of Monroe Avenue. The Saturday afternoon matinee consisted of two feature movies (one usually a western or a mystery), a serial (either "The Lone Ranger", "Tailspin Tommy", "Dick Tracy", "Captain Marvel", or some other comic book hero), a cartoon or short, and either Movietone News or "The March of Time". This took up the whole afternoon. We were introduced to such characters as Frankenstein's monster, Dracula, Charlie Chan, Mr. Moto (played by Peter Lorre until Pearl Harbor -- then, because he was Japanese -- no more Mr. Moto). Also, in the feature movie presentation, a James Cagney or George Raft or Pat O'Brien or Humphrey Bogart or someone like that, anyway, would play opposite Ann Sheridan. When she came on the screen, my heart melted and I imagined myself playing those love scenes with her. I collected movie magazines about her and coveted them in my bedroom where I would gaze at her and swoon. Then one day, as I was getting out of the movies, I saw what I perceived as an Ann Sheridan lookalike, who was my age. I later found out her name was Betty.
As I was walking home, I noticed that Betty was walking ahead of me. Then she crossed the street and entered a doorway that led to her family's apartment, above a store.
The next Saturday, I noticed that Betty was at the theatre again. Getting up enough nerve, I sat behind her. When the matinee was over, we walked out of the theatre and I bravely asked, "How did you like the movie?" She did not answer and kept walking until he crossed the street, again to go home.
The following Saturday, I made the big move and sat next to her, frequently glancing at my Ann Sheridan lookalike -- no acknowledgment from her that I even existed.
Christmastime was approaching and I thought I would get her a gift. That would surely break the ice. With my limited allowance and with money I had mad shoveling snow off various neighbors' sidewalks, together with my mother's advice as to what to get, I purchased a nail polishing kit. Then, one afternoon, nearer to Christmas, I followed her to her door. She went upstairs, again with no acknowledgment. I waited a bit, then I rang the bell to the apartment. Her sister came downstairs and let me in. I told her, "I have a Christmas gift for Betty." Her sister went back upstairs, then, after a little bit, she came down and said Betty did not want to see me. However, at that moment, her mother said, "Please come up." So I went up the stairs (evidently, her father was no longer a part of the family). Her mother was very kind and apologized for Betty not seeing me, especially when I had brought a gift. I handed the gift to Betty. She opened the package and found out what it was. The nail polish/manicure set. Betty said, "I don't put polish on my nails." Oh well, there goes ninety cents down the tubes. Her sister piped up with, "I do, can I have it?" Betty said yes. Her sister was a year younger than Betty.
After this moment of disappointment, I was able to walk Betty to school only she was on one side of Monroe Avenue and I was on the other.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
THE FENCE TRAIL
The family and I were watching the movie "A Christmas Story" when one of the scenes really hit home and brought back some great memories. The scene was when the boys were walking along a path of some sort, on the way to school, with old wooden fences as part of the scenery. The wooden fences had several gaps in them to allow access, permitted or not, each way.
My chums, in the era of my fourth grade grammar school experience, had already established a way home from school through people's back yards. This one day, they invited me to join them. We started out by climbing over a fence to gain admittance to the first challenging back yard. The challenge in this back yard was to race to the other side of the yard and climb over the fence to the next yard without the big collie attacking us. Most of my friends made it to the other side; however, as I was climbing over the chain link fence on the other side of the yard, the big collie emerged and, barking away, he came directly toward us (me). I love dogs and I was all ready to make friends with him until he jumped on me, halfway over the fence, and nipped me on the upper leg, about four inches from my groin. To this day, I still have the scar, which I wear as a medal of honor, although few have seen the scar (mostly women, who appeared to be distracted from the scar, for some other reason).
As we were wending our way toward our next conquest, a woman who had spied us trooping through her yard started shouting at us, so we took off and ran out the driveway, where she threw a crutch at us. Fortunately, the crutch hit no one. As I think about this incident today, I wonder if the proper thing to do would have been to return the crutch to her -- or not.
Two houses down, we resumed our fence trail activities. This time, the obstacle was a wooden fence. Luckily, our advance scouting patrol found a wide wooden slat that could be swung aside for easy entrance.
Once again, we where harassed by the occupants of the house and as we ran out of the yard, I ran into a bed of mud, where my foot sank down about a foot. Fortunately, I was wearing rubbers over my shoes, but unfortunately, the mud sucked one of my rubbers off my shoe -- never to be found again. Some story I'd have to tell my parents.
On another excursion through the fence trail, I came upon the skull of a dog. Since the following day, we were to bring in items to school for science class, I thought it would be a good idea to bring the skull to school.
When the teacher, I think her name was Miss Smith, asked if we had any items for science class, I raised my hand and said I had something. I brought the skull to the front of the class and as soon as Miss Smith saw the skull, she said, "Get that thing out of here!"
"But, Miss Smith..." I started to say.
"I want no further discussion, get it out of here." I went outside the classroom and put the skull on the floor outside the door. "Where did you put it?" Miss Smith inquired, unpleasantly. I told her. She said, "I want that thing off the school premises."
"Can I take it when I go home from school?" I begged.
"I suppose so. In the meantime, put it in this box so we can't see the ugly thing."
I complied. So much for scientific inquiry. However, the fence trail, continued to be a daily routine until we all tired of it and went on to something else.
My chums, in the era of my fourth grade grammar school experience, had already established a way home from school through people's back yards. This one day, they invited me to join them. We started out by climbing over a fence to gain admittance to the first challenging back yard. The challenge in this back yard was to race to the other side of the yard and climb over the fence to the next yard without the big collie attacking us. Most of my friends made it to the other side; however, as I was climbing over the chain link fence on the other side of the yard, the big collie emerged and, barking away, he came directly toward us (me). I love dogs and I was all ready to make friends with him until he jumped on me, halfway over the fence, and nipped me on the upper leg, about four inches from my groin. To this day, I still have the scar, which I wear as a medal of honor, although few have seen the scar (mostly women, who appeared to be distracted from the scar, for some other reason).
As we were wending our way toward our next conquest, a woman who had spied us trooping through her yard started shouting at us, so we took off and ran out the driveway, where she threw a crutch at us. Fortunately, the crutch hit no one. As I think about this incident today, I wonder if the proper thing to do would have been to return the crutch to her -- or not.
Two houses down, we resumed our fence trail activities. This time, the obstacle was a wooden fence. Luckily, our advance scouting patrol found a wide wooden slat that could be swung aside for easy entrance.
Once again, we where harassed by the occupants of the house and as we ran out of the yard, I ran into a bed of mud, where my foot sank down about a foot. Fortunately, I was wearing rubbers over my shoes, but unfortunately, the mud sucked one of my rubbers off my shoe -- never to be found again. Some story I'd have to tell my parents.
On another excursion through the fence trail, I came upon the skull of a dog. Since the following day, we were to bring in items to school for science class, I thought it would be a good idea to bring the skull to school.
When the teacher, I think her name was Miss Smith, asked if we had any items for science class, I raised my hand and said I had something. I brought the skull to the front of the class and as soon as Miss Smith saw the skull, she said, "Get that thing out of here!"
"But, Miss Smith..." I started to say.
"I want no further discussion, get it out of here." I went outside the classroom and put the skull on the floor outside the door. "Where did you put it?" Miss Smith inquired, unpleasantly. I told her. She said, "I want that thing off the school premises."
"Can I take it when I go home from school?" I begged.
"I suppose so. In the meantime, put it in this box so we can't see the ugly thing."
I complied. So much for scientific inquiry. However, the fence trail, continued to be a daily routine until we all tired of it and went on to something else.
Monday, December 29, 2008
KING FOR A DAY
Back in the 1930's, even a penny would go a long way. There was never any talk about eliminating the penny from our US monetary system, because you could actually buy things for a penny. Let me illustrate. A block away from my grammar school, Public School #33, in Rochester, New York, was a candy/confectioner's store. The store was on the bottom floor of a house. I guess the people that ran the store lived over it in their "flat" (a floor or story in a building, an apartment on one floor). The term "flat" is seldom used today.
A person would climb the two or three wooden steps to be able to open the door to the candy store. The store did sell other items, but to us grammar school kids, it was always called the "candy store".
Once inside, on the left you would find those movie machines that worked by turning a handle and peering into the machine through an opening, covered by glass, that would accommodate the eyes. The machine did not work until you put a penny into the slot, and the machine would cut off when your time was up.
The candy display was under a curved glass that covered the surface upon which the candy was located. There were penny candies and nickel candies. The penny candies consisted of green mint-flavored candies shaped like a mint leaf, Mary Janes -- a peanut butter filled taffy about 1/2" by 1" by 1/4" within a wrapper. There were jawbreakers -- small chocolate-covered caramels (different from today's round, hard jawbreakers) about 1" square and 1/8" thick (ten for a penny). There were nickel bars -- Baby Ruth's, Butterfingers, Clark bars, Hershey bars, Bit O' Honey bars, Powerhouse bars, and Three Musketeers. There were others, as well. Some are no longer available.
Anyway, one day I happened to be in my parents' bedroom in the flat over my parents' drugstore. They were both working there. I happened to see a dime on my parents' dresser. "What was a dime dong there?" I asked myself. "I'll bet they'll never miss it." So, mustering a bit of courage, I took the dime and put it in my pocket. I probably felt a pang of guilt, but neither parent said anything about it. The next day after school had let out, I called some of my chums over and told them I was going to buy enough candy for us all.
We headed to the candy store and went inside. The best buy was the jawbreakers -- ten for a penny -- so I bought a dime's worth. A cool one hundred jawbreakers were put in a paper bag for me. When we got outside, I said, "Okay, fellas, hold your hands out." I distributed enough jawbreakers to each individual to make them happy and possibly sick from eating so much candy. Along the way home, we spotted a trellis that apparently had been thrown away. The bribed friends said, "Harv, why don't you let us carry you on the trellis." I did not argue, so the recipients of my generosity lifted me up after I sat on the trellis. There I was, being carried home as would befit a king -- at least for that day.
A person would climb the two or three wooden steps to be able to open the door to the candy store. The store did sell other items, but to us grammar school kids, it was always called the "candy store".
Once inside, on the left you would find those movie machines that worked by turning a handle and peering into the machine through an opening, covered by glass, that would accommodate the eyes. The machine did not work until you put a penny into the slot, and the machine would cut off when your time was up.
The candy display was under a curved glass that covered the surface upon which the candy was located. There were penny candies and nickel candies. The penny candies consisted of green mint-flavored candies shaped like a mint leaf, Mary Janes -- a peanut butter filled taffy about 1/2" by 1" by 1/4" within a wrapper. There were jawbreakers -- small chocolate-covered caramels (different from today's round, hard jawbreakers) about 1" square and 1/8" thick (ten for a penny). There were nickel bars -- Baby Ruth's, Butterfingers, Clark bars, Hershey bars, Bit O' Honey bars, Powerhouse bars, and Three Musketeers. There were others, as well. Some are no longer available.
Anyway, one day I happened to be in my parents' bedroom in the flat over my parents' drugstore. They were both working there. I happened to see a dime on my parents' dresser. "What was a dime dong there?" I asked myself. "I'll bet they'll never miss it." So, mustering a bit of courage, I took the dime and put it in my pocket. I probably felt a pang of guilt, but neither parent said anything about it. The next day after school had let out, I called some of my chums over and told them I was going to buy enough candy for us all.
We headed to the candy store and went inside. The best buy was the jawbreakers -- ten for a penny -- so I bought a dime's worth. A cool one hundred jawbreakers were put in a paper bag for me. When we got outside, I said, "Okay, fellas, hold your hands out." I distributed enough jawbreakers to each individual to make them happy and possibly sick from eating so much candy. Along the way home, we spotted a trellis that apparently had been thrown away. The bribed friends said, "Harv, why don't you let us carry you on the trellis." I did not argue, so the recipients of my generosity lifted me up after I sat on the trellis. There I was, being carried home as would befit a king -- at least for that day.
CHAMP OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD
The neighborhood in which I lived, in the mid-1930's, consisted of multi-family dwellings. The street upon which we lived in Rochester, N,Y. was Webster Avenue. At that time the trolley cars ran up and down the street on tracks. These tracks were later removed after the United States entered World War II. The tracks were steel, which apparently was in short supply, so any possible source was used to help the war effort. Webster Avenue had sidewalks on both sides of the street. The sidewalks were in 4' to 5' concrete squares which would later become the battlefield for the upcoming contest.
My father's pharmacy (with soda fountain) was on Webster Avenue in a building that housed not only a tailor shop, but my aunts and grandparents in an apartment, behind the stores. My parents and I were in an apartment over the drug store, and our neighbors, the Kuhns, lived in an apartment over the tailor shop. All lived comfortably and all were friendly with each other. The neighborhood was mostly Protestant and Catholic. We were the only Jewish family living in the neighborhood for many blocks in any direction. Once in a while these differences would flare up and I would take a few lumps and now and then give out a few (less often).
However, one Saturday morning, after some of us kids had completed our usual Saturday morning routine, which was riding with the milkman on his horse drawn milk wagon and trailing the ice truck to grab a few splinters of ice that we could gnaw on to cool off on the summer's day. One of my chums suggested that we have a spitting contest. Everyone agreed, about five of us and we proceeded to lay down a few simple rules:
All the other boys, now on to my secret wanted a second chance. In my charitable way, I agreed. They all bettered their first try but did not reach the mark I had established. Little did they know that in later years, in my gymnasium class, when we had our strength tests I held the record for the largest lung capacity.
I was now looked upon as being the "Champ of the Neighborhood"!
My father's pharmacy (with soda fountain) was on Webster Avenue in a building that housed not only a tailor shop, but my aunts and grandparents in an apartment, behind the stores. My parents and I were in an apartment over the drug store, and our neighbors, the Kuhns, lived in an apartment over the tailor shop. All lived comfortably and all were friendly with each other. The neighborhood was mostly Protestant and Catholic. We were the only Jewish family living in the neighborhood for many blocks in any direction. Once in a while these differences would flare up and I would take a few lumps and now and then give out a few (less often).
However, one Saturday morning, after some of us kids had completed our usual Saturday morning routine, which was riding with the milkman on his horse drawn milk wagon and trailing the ice truck to grab a few splinters of ice that we could gnaw on to cool off on the summer's day. One of my chums suggested that we have a spitting contest. Everyone agreed, about five of us and we proceeded to lay down a few simple rules:
- We would stand behind a specific line on the sidewalk - one of the construction joints.
- The person spitting would get three chances.
- Obviously, the glob of spit would provide the mark the person made when he expectorated.
All the other boys, now on to my secret wanted a second chance. In my charitable way, I agreed. They all bettered their first try but did not reach the mark I had established. Little did they know that in later years, in my gymnasium class, when we had our strength tests I held the record for the largest lung capacity.
I was now looked upon as being the "Champ of the Neighborhood"!
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