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:

1. We would stand behind a specific line on the sidewalk - one of the construction joints.
2. The person spitting would get three chances.
3. Obviously, the glob of spit would provide the mark the person made when he expectorated.

I was last to perform. Those that went before me really didn't know the secret technique. They merely gathered what saliva they had in their mouth and just spit without gathering a good blow or "goober". Then it became my turn. I had to beat a gob that had landed a mere six feet away. I stood at the line, snuffed a portion of phlegm from my nose and blew the mucus globule a good ten feet from the starting line - clearly the winner.

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"!