Cottage STreet Gazette

Retirement gives me the time to relish what life has been and still is for me. Seeing what is around me through quiet observance and walking have actually sent back to me pleasant memories and opportunities.

Misty rain, cool downpours, fresh, warm sunlight, gentle spring breezes---such afternoons are always heady times. After a hard Winter, Spring is welcome with its showers of April and warming of May. June arrives, and I can see prominent proof of the new growth of this spring. Soft, green buds on the myriad trees and bushes tell a story, a story of new birth and regeneration for the year. I like to think that my mind is ready for this procession.

Across from my window are the dogwoods---between me and the busy road. For a short time, they provide a fragrant beauty that brightens any day. They blossom with white, dark and light pink petals for only a few weeks---it's their nature; then the colors fade to the pale buds and finally the summer green leaves. From now until the end of summer, I'll have this greenery for my view.

And a little farther, across the street, are the red maples making a colorful backdrop through the dogwoods. But, they're not alone. A few regular maples keep the green in mind.

My childhood home sported a backyard red maple, a Japanese entry which brightened a yard dominated by the falling red berries of the nearby mountain ash. The yard was no great beauty, but the red of the maple softened the hot summer view of the worn patches of grass and struggling flowers and bushes. The bright red, mountain ash berries dropped to be squashed on the short, back walk and had a questionable odor---sometimes enough to keep prowlers away. A few anty peonies (ours always seemed to be covered with ants) framed the old, angled basement entry. As kids, we certainly spent enough time sitting atop the door and sliding down. We continued to do it even knowing a splinter was a possibility. I wonder if Dad ever realized why the doors were swayed in the center? Our version of great danger, I think.

And I remember practicing with my 'green' thumb on all parts of the yard. A few carrots and radishes---the usual quick growing vegetables for a young boy. Some tulip and other flower bulbs to forget about after a few days---but, alas, my efforts were only temporary, as my boyish thoughts inevitably turned to non-garden areas.

A heady day also reminds me of the nomadic existence I had as a boy, walking or bicycling around our town with nothing special in mind for the most part. It was certainly safe enough in those days. I feared no area, and I went just about anywhere my young legs could walk or pedal: downtown, both sides of the tracks, and the abodes of the tender young maidens from my school class.

Nearing the center of town, a perfumed aroma would assail my nostrils. This came from Pollack's Fruital Works (essences for perfumes.) The closer you got to it, the stronger the aroma, and then it lost its attractiveness. Overwhelming is the word. Of course, not too far from there was the Spaulding bakery, and the pleasing aroma of fresh doughnuts fought the perfume and was a rather mixed scent---sort of like a jelly donut.

I like walking. It's therapeutic for whatever ails you---physical or mental, good exercise, and a chance to meet people. My Mother always shooed us outside to walk or play with a: “…go on. It'll blow the stink off you…” We didn't take it personally.

Walking around is a regular opportunity to meet strangers and view property and buildings close up. It's a quite different view from when you're driving past at thirty miles an hour in a car.

On the sidewalk, a passing stranger will nod or speak in answer to your hello. People might ask directions, possibly entering into a short conversation. While you can respond from a car, it isn't always easy. For that, you'll probably be stopped for traffic and be the target of blaring horns. Even then, you'll hear the impatient horns urging you to move along.

Few of us need to walk to get somewhere anymore. The average family has two or three cars and maybe a motorbike to make the trips to available malls, doctors, health clubs, gyms, Jennie Craig, etc. Even as we 'speak', some 'sneakers' or 'new-fangled' shoes have wheels on them. And, of course, there's the two wheeled urban transport, with or without a motor. Walking is no longer necessary.

Home gyms or basketball hoops in the driveway keep us close to home. Or we might have an office running track to use---sometimes like the rooftop track used in “The Secret of My Success” These activities are good exercise (although in the movie I kept expecting someone to run off the edge of the roof), but they don't permit meeting with many friends or neighbors.

Kids once rode bikes and walked everywhere. Do they still do that? Now they have Moms to drive them to the mall. Normal bicycles are in the minority these days: kids use mountain bikes, skooters, skateboards, inline skates, motorcycles, ATVs etc. The malls are the main reason for the demise of most downtowns and the Mom and Pop stores around the small cities. Yes, kids should shy away from strangers and bums. That's an unfortunate fact of life, and it can't be helped in a changing society and economy. So, maybe it's not always the kids' faults. They still do the best they can with what they have. It's a sad reality that progress and the march of time have resulted in less street safety. I was a kid given lots of freedom. What I did and where I went as a kid could simply not be done these days. But then, the US population has doubled since I was a kid. More people for the same resources? That's the truth!

I remember the days of sitting in my Dad's homemade Adirondack chair on the front porch to relax and read, though I didn't really have anything to relax from. Those were warm, summer afternoons reading science-fiction [my new literary experience], sucking on horehound drops, and watching the World go by. But, really, there wasn't a lot of traffic on our street, so the World was rather quiet in my area---at least until another kid came by and we went off exploring or playing baseball.

Such warm, lingering days are long-gone now. My asphalt and cement life reflects only blasting waves of heat on long, sunny days. The cookie-cutter cars passing my window can't be identified as readily as they were in my childhood, and the twittering of birds and rustles of small animals are drowned out by the sounds of commerce. I spend more time at my computer than I ever did reading science-fiction.

Progress and change are relentless, but our pleasant memories are always there to serve us. And looking around at the maples and dogwoods on a warm spring day brings them to the fore. So, we should grandly appreciate the good of the past and try not to dwell too long on the bad. None of it can be changed.

What else did we see? Charles Dickens' 'Oliver Twist' [1948] with Obi Wan Kenobi the younger [Alec Guinness,] and Robert Newton was the epitome of Long John Silver in 'Treasure Island' [1950.] I liked Newton better than Noah Beery as the peg-legged pirate. The 'Thief of Baghdad' [1940] with Sabu and Tim Whelan---I could have watched that movie once a day for years. Sabu with his flying carpet inspired me to write an Arabian short story years later [currently shelved due to political considerations.] The mysterious and strange 'Scarlet Pimpernel' [1935] of Leslie Howard was a Sunday afternoon treat. The 'Adventures of Robin Hood' [1938] in all its black and white glory allowed the straight shooting Errol Flynn to save Olivia de Havilland. Another presentation was 'Captain Blood' [1935,] a rousing sea adventure again showing Errol Flynn as Peter Blood ['…Colonel Darling! ...'] yet again winning the hand of Olivia de Havilland. Those two stars made eight movies together.

And who could skip 'King Kong' [1933] and the jungle adventure on Skull Island with Faye Wray, Robert Armstrong, and the ingénue, Mr. Kong. Or 'Frankenstein' [1931] with Colin Clive, Mae Clark, and the unbilled Boris Karloff. This film was scary in black and white, and imbedded in my young mind the scariness of dark, mountaintop, castle laboratories. I've always avoided such places---not that I was ever invited to one. I wonder how scary the movie would have been in color. Frankenstein's monster was really green.

The dark and eerie images of Bela Lugosi's 'Dracula' [1931] stayed with me for a long time---in scary black and white. '…I vant to bite your neck…'---perhaps not a direct quote, but in Lugosi's accent, it would have been a scary phrase. I was very happy to have Zacherley cut the horror a bit with his comedy. Thank you, John. I hope your wife's brain hasn't been served with onion dip.

Dracula and Frankenstein, partnered with the compelling life of Larry Talbot seen in the 'Wolf Man' [1941---year of the wolf bane,] to make the Big Three horror movies of my youth. I watched them numerous times; black and white, nothing graphic (spurring imagination was the key,) no gore, but pure Gothic terror at times for a young boy of the fifties.

When Dad spent the evening donating carpentry service to the Church? Why that was a good time for Happy Felton and the Dodger game, again with me on the floor in front of the TV with my Hershey ice cream or blue cheese and crackers---slowly disappearing into the setting son.

Happy Felton, a rotund fellow who looked rather silly in a Dodger uniform, had a pre-game show just before the Dodger games. Down the right field line, the guest Dodger player would usually throw or fungo hit a ball for the kid contestants to catch against the right field bullpen wall. The player then chose the best of three to win the contest. The kid generally won some memorabilia, baseball equipment, or both.

Happy also had a regular Saturday show, 'Happy Felton's Knothole Gang,' with guest players from the New York teams teaching kids baseball basics. The kids were taught in Ebbets Field, the Polo Grounds, and Yankee Stadium. It ran from 1950 to 1957. I guess it ended, in part, because the Dodgers and Giants moved from New York City to the West Coast leaving two-thirds of his ballparks empty.

Friday was grocery-shopping night for our family. We went with Mom and Dad when I was very young, but I could tell that Dad didn't enjoy the trip. He treated it as a responsibility and not as an enjoyable experience. I wasn't much older when the trip turned to an us and Mom-only expedition. Sometimes I went, but I was more likely to stay at home watching educational western TV or the Dodgers. So, most of the time, Mom went alone---well, not entirely. I guess little Mary Anne went with her.

And when she returned, I'd help unload the car. After which, I'd spend a few minutes looking through the bags to see what Mom had bought---not putting things away, mind you, but checking things out. Cookies, candies, and crackers were usually opened before the rest of the bags were empty. Oreos, Hydrox, Peanut Butter Creams, and chocolate chips were the cookies of choice. We also enjoyed Premium Saltine Crackers with almost anything. I had wheat crackers for my blue cheese.

Our grocery shopping was done at the A & P in downtown Middletown, near the phone company. It's not that we had a lot of choices. Other than the Grand Union on Orchard Street across from the library, there wasn't anyplace else of size to shop. There was the local Markovitz at the other end of town, and several other smaller groceries around, including Shoemaker's down our street at Larkin's corner [where I voted every year for Miss Rheingold.] But their prices were higher [though phenomenally cheap by today's standards], and they had limited selections. We only used the latter when we needed a few things and couldn't go to the A & P. When I was young, the stores were relatively small. No one even imagined a super-store. In the A & P, which was miniscule compared to the current stores, there were narrow aisles, stuffed shelves, the aroma of ground Eight O'clock Coffee pervading the air, a basic selection of fresh produce [in smaller quarters, the aromas are stronger,] and a bin of empty product boxes near the front. The A & P even had its own house brand of beer, though I don't know anyone who dared taste it. Noise and conversation abounded while our groceries were packed in paper bags or the binned boxes as we chose. Big, black cash registers were used and filled the air with even more noise. Ka-chink. Ka-chink.

When I'd be with Mom shopping, I'd push the cart with my attention directed around me to see who else was there. Thus, I often ran over Mom's poor heels in front of me. She'd have something to say about it, but I'd be likely to do it again. Maybe that's part of the reason she didn't mind my staying home and leaving the grocery shopping to her and Mary Anne.

Most stores were open to 9 pm on Friday nights. The rest of the week saw 6 pm closings, and everybody was closed on Sundays. This schedule was pretty standard, and I remember working at Green's Department Store from 1964-66 when we'd be open only on Friday nights. Of course the Christmas season was different. The stores remained open later each night as a matter of course–but still only until nine.

Except for the Yankees, 'Perry Mason,' and an occasional movie we hadn't seen before, Mom and Dad didn't watch television all that much. Dad occasionally watched Wednesday night or Friday night boxing when there was nothing else to engage his interest or Sugar Ray Robinson was on the card. Dad was an adherent of the concept that Sugar Ray was, 'pound for pound' the best boxer around. [Though that concept, literally, doesn't make much sense.] If we were all in the living room, we'd be watching television, and Dad and Mom would be reading---a habit I picked up. I can read anything light while the TV is on. Anything heavy or more intellectual will require silence. So the TV goes off.

I toiled on my homework upstairs in my room or downstairs at the kitchen table while Mom washed the dishes. I liked to have her immediately available to answer a question or deny having the knowledge. Any questions mathematical or physical were normally saved for Dad. I'd open the learning season by choosing new supplies such as a protractor, compass, pencils, pens, rulers---though they'd go missing when the next summer came around.

I used all those supplies, and usually brought some home each night in a book bag. Nobody used knapsacks, and we didn't have lockers. We could leave some books and notes in our desks, which had flip-tops, since for the most part we didn't change desks or classrooms. In high school it wasn't cool to use the book bags anymore. We could use small gym bags or use a rubber strap around the loose books, or just carry the books themselves. We still didn't have any lockers in high school either, but at that point we didn't care. The books used were simply too heavy to cart home unless we needed them for homework. The only desk storage space was underneath the seat. But, really, who would have stolen a Latin or Algebra textbook?

As with any youth, my homework was sometimes sketchy or forgotten. Amid the laughing and yelling on the high school bus, we'd compare our night's work, I'd share my work, or I'd copy from someone else's efforts if I agreed with him. I 'borrowed' from Jack Mills enough to have him comment about it in my yearbook. I was no slouch in criticizing his work either, but still---better a wrong something than nothing at all. There were many other pens and pencils working on the bus ride, so I wasn't alone in 'borrowing' homework. And as necessary, I lent my Latin efforts to others, even Jack. Fair is fair! Besides, nobody but Madeleine could translate Latin with any competence, and she wouldn't participate in our fair and balanced swapping. Usually, most of the rest of us were all off base. My efforts usually had numerous blank spaces for missing words or phrases. Opera publicus, Sister Chabonel!

Surprisingly, we didn't talk much about the previous night's TV fare, unless it was important for some reason: major cold war news, changes to the hierarchy in the USSR, the newest rock and roll songs, new model cars, major league baseball games or trades, or local news of note, or the latest romantic pairings. But mostly we had our own concerns.

I know. I know. I'm off the TV track and on the bus track to school. But, everything just flows, rather like responding to an essay question for which I actually know the answer. So, I let my mind wander wherever it wants to go---stream of consciousness as it were.

Back in the fifties, we could actually tell the difference between cars and the models of each make, as well as their years of manufacture. The models changed quite a bit each year, and kept us memorizing. Seeing them in a sunny situation was sometimes awe-inspiring. Man and machine. These days, you can't tell one model from another or one nameplate from another, and the cars are decidedly not awesome. Cookie-cutter cars, as it were---with the exception of the Chrysler 300 and Dodge Charger, which look like each other. And they both look like the Bentley. And I like all three, though I'd still rather have a jaguar. We didn't really track the changes in annual television set models---though I must say again that the Sylvania halo television appealed to my tender years.

I wasn't the type who could study amid loud rock and roll, or loud anything for that matter. In high school and college my study habits were rather quiet. I made my noise in social situations. We maintained a quiet home at 126 Cottage, except when Mom and Dad were yelling at each other.

Not noisy at home? I can still laugh about the time Mom caught me in my room singing 'Mack the Knife,' with Bobby Darin's versions on the radio and the record player all bellowing or blasting at the same time--- well…I wasn't studying, that's for sure. Mom opened the door and scared the hell out of me. Couldn't she have waited until the song was over?

I'm a bit late with this installment, because I found a new interest and delved into it full blast. Genealogy. I discovered a lot about my family, especially those from the old countries, Ireland and Italy. I'm still heavily into to, notably with a free trial at a genealogy site---and detailed investigations of census data---but I took the time today to catch up on my blogs.

Speaking of horror movies , who could forget Zacherley? (John Zacherle) He introduced late night horror movies and integrated his 'comedy” with the films. I think he was only shown in New York City when I saw him: Channel 11 (WPIX) at 11:15 pm Monday and Friday. Of course, I usually enjoyed his antics only on Friday. Dad and Mom went to bed after the 11:00 news and weather (fifteen minutes,) so I had free reign on watching the horror movie until I was ordered to bed. Mom never seemed to forget I was still up and watching TV. Dad could sleep through anything.

My research shows that Zacherley was on 'Shock Theater' from September 1958 to April 1959. I spent many hours (again on the floor with my Hershey's Ice Cream or blue cheese and crackers) watching: his ghostly appearance; his laboratory where he experimented on his wife's 'brain' (actually a head of cauliflower–--and we all knew it;) his scraping of a tin cup along jail bars during a prison movie; and the many other hilarious interruptions during his 'B' movie presentations: these all made the silly horror and other mysteries a lot more interesting. I liked them better than the current episodes of gore. Too bad Zacherley aged and is no longer actively with us.

While I never got to see Vampira, I've seen a lot of the more recent horror movie hostess, Elvira. But these days, there are no similar hosts because horror movies have gone gory, and any host humor would mean little other than poor taste to the viewers. Robert Osborne of TCM is too stiff to introduce the old genre films properly on TCM, and other horror hosts are too juvenile and silly, and that's saying a lot when compared to the likes of Zacherley. Some teens and teenyboppers may enjoy the current blood baths, but they're still not family fare.

Did you wake up to J Fred Muggs and Dave Garroway? Or go to sleep after Steve Allen, Jack Paar, or Johnny Carson? In our area, the New York local news we watched was at 11 pm with John McCaffrey and it lasted ten minutes. The weatherman, Tex Antoine, took another five thanks to sponsor Con Ed. He explained the weather with magnetic images of clouds, snow, or sunshine on the metal part [something like a rebus] and drew Uncle Wethbee on the drawing board part. John Cameron Swayze [before his Timex Watch commercials] and Douglas Edwards were also newscasters of the period.

At 11:20 we could enjoy the first ten minutes of the 'Steve Allen Show' [from New York at the time.] This portion was called a Variety Show. At 11:30, the rest of the country tuned in to the show, now named 'The Tonight Show'---which was on until 1 am. I enjoyed Steve Allen, but I was rarely allowed to stay up to watch him during the week. I'm glad he had another show earlier in the evening. In later years, I enjoyed his TV specials 'Meeting of the Minds' and a series of mystery novels. Steve also composed some 1100 songs. Yes, he was a very funny and talented fellow.

At one time, we had a brown, bakelite, AM radio. Mom used it to listen to Joe Ryan and other personalities of the day on Local Wall-1040 all the time---but mostly Joe. He sweet-talked most of the Middletown women, but sadly, his looks never matched his suave, housewife-attracting voice. I liked to listen to the music, but that radio was mom's. Others used it only on rare occasions, like the Middletown-Port Jervis football game on Thanksgiving. Dad only listened to the radio in the car [too often tuned to the Yankee baseball game, as far as I was concerned.] It was his car and his radio.

While we ran through several console and tabletop radios, we had only one TV. While we must have had earlier ones, the TV I remember was a FADA. I don't remember what model of this brand we had [they were probably just number and letter combinations], but the company stopped making its TV sets in 1956. Our set must have been from a few years before that, probably 1952 or 1953. I don't remember our buying a TV in 1954 or 1955. Other TVs always seemed on the greener side of life, and I liked the Sylvania sets with their Halo lights around the screen. I see that in ads today offering Phillip's flat-screen TV sets with 'ambient' light. The light changes with the screen image to expand the viewing sense. No new concept there.

Our FADA served us well for a long time and financed the education of the children of two TV repairmen, Walt and then Jerry. We saw them so often, especially around dinner-time, they became a part of our family. Walt's father had been a doctor, and I guess treating sick TV sets was Walt's way of carrying on the spirit. But it was my father who saved the day when he carried the set to the porch and watched the fire burn out. Even after that, we had it repaired and returned to loving service. We kids once had a three-color plastic sheet that was stuck onto the TV screen using the available static electricity: blue at the top (sky,) green in the middle (grass,) and brown on the bottom (dirt.) That was supposed to simulate color. It didn't.

Sundays was 'Wonderama' time. It starred Sonny Fox and Sandy Becker and sported: western movies, art instruction, quizzes, fairy tales, folk dances, Captain Video, animal guests---pretty much everything across the spectrum. The two hosts alternated, but I liked Fox better. We were particularly appreciative of the special Wonderama Christmas Shows in 1956, 1957, and 1959. They included caroling, dancing, interviews, kids, toys, etc. The Picture for a Sunday Afternoon (Sunday, 1 pm) was always best after I had made a quick trip to Larkin's. Mom gave me money, and I picked out penny candy with Ray Frink, the store manager---who always seemed to be there. I'd choose what I wanted with a consideration of Mom and Dad, though they really didn't have any favorites. They didn't eat much of the candy anyway.

I could choose from Mary Janes, wrapped caramels, malted milk balls, Sugar Daddys, Sugar Babies, Jujy Fruits, Chocolate Babies, little Tootsie Rolls, watermelon slices, triple-flavor coconut cubes, Bit-O-Honey, Candy Buttons, wax-syrup bottles, gum drops, Mexican Hats, spearmint leaves, licorice pipes, licorice shoe strings, licorice wheels, cherry shoe strings, marshmallow ice cream cones, allsorts, jelly nougats, Jordan Almonds, Walnettos---and if I had a nickel for myself, a package of baseball cards and bubble gum. On Sundays, we didn't go in for hard candy or chewing gum.

We'd all share the sugary bounty while watching the likes of L'il Abner [before the musical,] Gunga Din, Beau Geste, King Kong, and Double Indemnity. We saw 'Scatter Good Baines,' Edward G. Robinson, Randolph Scott, Ray Milland, Fred McMurray, George Raft, Humphrey Bogart, and James Cagney regularly. They were in mysteries, westerns, gangster movies, light comedies, or drama [1930s and 1940s.] 'Top of the World, Ma!' The movies were black and white (not that we could have seen them in color anyway,) and were all pre-1950s. After all, that was the 1950s! Nothing current was shown on television then.

Mom was usually reading a book [usually a Perry Mason novel] and Dad was reading the print off the Sunday News, Sunday Mirror, and Journal-American. The aroma of dinner still lingered throughout the house. Peace reigned. I was still delaying my home work, but my un-aching back was stable on the floor while I exercised my eyes on the FADA.

Come to think of it, by reading several newspapers completely, Dad was probably quite well informed about the activities of the day that had reached newsprint. It's just that he didn't talk much about them with us. If he did with Mom, he did it in private. I still read the Sunday News, especially the Justice Story, partially in his honor. For some reason or another, I rarely spoke with either parent about the news of the day. But I do remember walking into the dining room and seeing the Daily News on the table with the blaring headline about the execution of the Rosenbergs. But even then, there was no family discussion. I didn't fully understand anything about them, but I was still in the phase where all government, media, and businesses were the last word about everything.

One of my favorite newspaper inserts was the recent complete NY Daily News from 1963. The features, comics, and ads brought back many memories. I do miss the Sunday Mirror and the Sunday Journal American. They had good comics and a different slant on sports, but the Unions put them out of business years ago.