Lemme Tellya about Mt Vernon. 05 March 2007 I was born in 1934 and was raised in Mt Vernon. I've been away since 1959. I've been trying to find people by going through my Davis yearbook and the phone book with no success. The only phone book I have is small one from Blue Books Inc which doesn't look complete. I thought it might be fun to let you know what I've been doing since I left town. I was born in my grandparents' home on 300 something South Third Ave. It was a frame house next to an apartment house. When I visited in 1998, I think the house is gone. I went to Fulton School which was near S 3rd. My neighbor was the Cooper family which owned the Firestone store around the corner on East Third Street. Louie, the cop, was considered the "mayor" of Third Street. His station was 4th Ave and 3rd St. Charlie, the barber on 3rd St, gave me my first haircut. I told him I parted my hair on the right side, but he and my father vetoed my request, and I've parted my hair on the left side ever since. Ben Gordon had a jewelry store on the corner of 4th Ave and 3rd St. I loved their mechanical displays. One day I saw a trolley car go by with something dangling underneath. I told my mom that I would fix that when I grew up. Twenty years later I graduated as a Mechanical Engineer from NYU. When I was 4 we moved to 300 Sheridan Blvd. It was subsequently renumbered 56 Sheridan Ave. I went to Wilson school which was renamed Traphagen. Mr Traphagen was my principal from K through 8. Mr Larsen's name is on my diploma. He was appointed when I was in 9th grade. I'm not sure of that name. I went to Davis High, and graduated in 1952. I worked here and there around town. I lied and got a job pumping gas on Wolfe Lane in Pelham. I had to lie because my parents didn't have a car, and I wasn't sure of the procedure in a gas station. I learned fast but got fired after a week because the boss was angry that I had lied. I went around the corner on E Lincoln and got a job in Hacker's Shell station. "Now" I had experience and worked the rest of the summer with no incidents except for when I drove a huge Chrysler off the lift. A kindly truck driver jacked up the car and gave it a mighty shove back onto the lift. Mr Hacker dropped a wad of money as he was preparing to go home. I found it. He and his father came rushing back to the station but wouldn't tell me what they were looking for. After letting them stew for a while, I gave them the money. Instead of a nice little reward, they accused me of stealing some of it. I told them that if I was a thief I would just keep the whole thing. They accepted this but still didn't give me a reward. It's funny the things you remember. I worked for Mimi the Milliner on 4th Ave. "Mimi" was a middle aged immigrant of some sort. He paid me the princely sum of $0.25 per hour. For my quarter I had to not only clean the place but had to "anticipate" his needs as he made hats. Turns out that his previous employee was a little Black kid who got sick for a few days. While I was polishing the brass outside the store, the kid came up to me and told me his story. He was appalled that I was made to work past 6PM. He told me "his Mammy didn't allow him to stay out that late". I decided that I didn't want this kid's job, so I told the boss that my "Mammy" didn't want me out that late. The guy looked at me funny since this little Armenian kid had never before lapsed into Black vernacular. There were big kids who flew gas model airplanes at the Wilson School playground. While exploring 4th Ave, I discovered Zephyr Modelcraft. It was run by Jerry Tiso. I went in and told him that I not only wanted to build model airplanes, but I wanted to work in his store. I was only 11 and a half, but I got the job. I worked for him until I graduated high school. He became a surrogate father since my "real" father was too busy being drunk. Jerry was an Aeronauticl Engineer from NYU. His 2 brothers were Civil Engineers. I graduated Davis with the last brother, but I don't think he became an engineer. On lazy afternoons Jerry would tell me stories about NYU and the places he had worked. Imagine how proud I was when I graduated with better grades than the brothers or Tim,the Electrical Engineering student, who repaired Lionel trains for an extra buck. Last time I heard Tim was well along the path of becoming an alcoholic. While I was in engineering school, I drove a cab for A1 Taxi Service. They're gone now. Two of the owners were the Caruso brothers. I really liked Frank. I think he lived on S 9th or 10th. I drove for 3 years. I never understood how the drivers could support a family on the lousy 40% we got. After a few years I discovered they were all stealing. Since I was smarter than they, I became the best thief in the place. Fortunately I got fired before I adopted crime as a life style. My grandparents lost their house for some reason and rented half a house on S 7th. That house was eventually leveled to prepare for apartment projects. I used to bravely visit my grandparents in an entirely Black neighborhood and was pleasantly surprised to find that I wasn't ever murdered. The guys would play a lot of basketball. I've always been short and was never asked to participate. I didn't know how to play anyway, so it was no loss. I contented myself in watching and not being murdered. As I said before, I just turned 67. I remember that in my lifetime Blacks weren't considered people. To be sure, even in the Sheridan Ave area, Blacks were treated well (there was a Black superintendent), but they were referred to in hushed tones as though they had acquired some terrible illness. There was a house on S 2nd near the library. It was a large house inhabited by any number of Black people. My friend's father was a reporter for the Argus. He would tell of the frequent removal of dead bodies from that house. Remember, that wasn't so long ago. My friend Steve Portman had musical talent. He could pick up an instrument very quickly. He played the piano very well. He took up the bassoon and played with the Mt Vernon Symphony in the Wood Auditorium. My father was a concert organist. He was on the outs with the union and played for 13 years at the Studio Club which was near the RR tracks (maybe Fiske Place). Celebs would frequent the place. For economic reasons he was eventually replaced by a record player. He then started teaching and playing for the Baptist Church on E 2nd St. He also played at the Free Synagogue for Rabbi Max Maccobi. My first date was with his daughter Mimi. We took the G Bus, went to the movies at Lowes, had hot-dogs and a coke at the Proctor Deli and returned home on the G Bus. That whole adventure cost me $1.44. Mimi is now teaching at Stanford University in Palo Alto, CA. I think her brother, Max Jr, is also there. My father also played for the mortuary on E 2nd St (either Jenk's or Burr Davis). I would go to the pool in Wilson's Woods. I would ride my bike there and leave it leaning on a tree. I never used a lock. One time I came out of the pool and found some kids riding my bike. I told them it was mine, and they gave it back. Things have changed. Every summer there would be a picnic at California Field. I think the new High School is now there. We had "Victory Gardens" during WW2. They were located along the Cross County Parkway presumably on public land. Mr Glatley had a farm in that area. He would give advice on crops and hosted another picnic at his house at the end of the summer. From my apartment on Sheridan Ave I could see the windmill at the Wartburg Orphanage. As kids we started all sorts of rumors about what went on at the orphanage. One summer day we crawled through the woods with our cap guns and "attacked" the place. There were some kids working in the garden. When they saw us, they stopped working and looked in our direction. That was all we needed - we ran like hell. That was the closest we came to actually making contact. The Sheridan Ave area is pretty much totally developed now, but that wasn't the case in the early 40's. There was an apartment house which had been started on Ehrbar (?) Ave. When the war broke out, the apartment sat unfinished until about 1946. We would play on the girders and crawl through the furnace and up the chimney. After the war there was a burst of building activity. The field where there are now lots of apartments was covered with huge boulders which were deposited by the glacier. This field was bounded by Sheridan, Elwood and Esplanade. The workers spent many months drilling into the boulders and blasting them. The first post-war private house was built on the corner of Elwood and Marion. It was bought by a family named Steckler. The girl (Elanor) was in my class at Wilson School. The workers let me hang around and watch them work. My memory isn't too good at poetry or history or other verbal skills, but I can remember the steps in building something. That's probably why I became an Inventor and Computer Pioneer. Having seen it once, I could probably *build* a house. The workers liked the fact that I truly appreciated what they were doing. They would let me help them and be a general "gopher". One day they let me trim all the overhanging boards on one corner of the house. I used a hand saw and was very proud of myself. It took me most of the day, and I had a sore arm, but I was very happy. On the way to high school on the G Bus I would pass 101 Summit Ave where E B White lived. I didn't know of him then, but now I feel lucky to have been that close to a literary giant. He also lived on Mercereau which was close to home. At some point I became a regular at the library. It was my favorite place. I would read every book starting with the 500's and ending with the 900's. The librarians would ask me questions about the availability and location of books. I knew them all. It wouldn't be until I met a civilian worker in the Army that I discovered literature. I spent the next three years reading everything that was even vaguely a classic. There was a retired stone mason who read until he died. I was never brave enough to talk to him. That was probably a mistake. Many times we'd be the only two in the place. Miss Telka Gustavson was the head librarian and the president of the WCTU. Who would have guessed that 30 odd years later I'd be in AA. Another spooky place to explore was the old Boston and Maine RR which crossed E Lincoln near Hutchinson Blvd. The RR was abandoned. We would go through the station looking for stuff. In the woods my friend Carl Weist found a rusty hand-gun with a pearl handle. What a treasure for little kids. Carl's father was the pastor of the Circle Church and his mother was on the Board of Education. They never found out about the gun. Recently I met a woman who's married to a guy who was born on S 2nd Ave. I met her in San Jose, CA. Such a small world. When I was in the Army, I spent about a year working in the discharge center at Camp Kilmer, NJ. I met no one from MV. However, when I was on KP in Ft Lewis, Washington, 4 of the 5 guys were from MV. Go figure. I was once told that MV was a mere 14 miles from Times Square. I mention this to point out the contrast between traffic now and when I was a kid. A few of us would go down Sheridan Ave to the Cross County Pky. We would take a sheet of paper with the 48 states written down the side. We would then record the state of origin of each car that passed. After a day of this occupation, we would be lucky to record a total of 200 cars. Today you could count 200 cars in a minute. When I was very little, I had some sort of childhood disease. I still lived on S 3rd Ave. I had nothing to do, so I'd wait and wait for a car to pass. Finally, a Model A would chug by. There is an apartment across the street at 55 Sheridan. Between that apt and ours at 56 there might be one car parked out front. My mother lived at 56 from 1939 to 1979. It got to the point where she wouldn't move her car, because she'd never find another place to park. From K thru 12 one of my classmates was Marilyn Bergman - easily one of the most beautiful females I've ever seen. I keep one mouse as a pet. The last one I got was particularly gorgeous, so she was named Marilyn Bergmouse. I sang in the choir at the Ascension Church on Park Ave or thereabouts. The pastor was Rev Brown and the choirmaster was Fennimore Cooper. It was an all boys choir. Under Mr Cooper's direction we did a fine job. Kids who loved music would come down and audition. My friend Steve Portman, who later became a professional musician, sang with us. He was Jewish. He kept his mouth shut when we recited the Apostles' Creed, but sang like an angel. We were true little boy kids. There was lots of normal boy kid activities until the side door opened and we processed down the aisle. Then we reverted to being angels. During the sermon we would do the best we could drawing naked women in our missals. One kid lost his shoe in the chandelier of the rehearsal room. He processed down the church bobbing up and down. My Aunt Mona and her three sisters ran the Harrington Sister's Dance School which was on the second floor of a building near the corner of Prospect and Park. I was offered free dance lessons but demurred. It seemed like a feminine pursuit. Later in life I saw Jimmy Cagny dance and regretted the lost opportunity. The Harrington Sisters started in Vaudeville. Once a year they would present a recital for their students at the Westchester Women's Club also on Park. I got the job of operating the spotlight, I did this with no rehearsals - just sort of "winged" it. One time my friend Betty Fralic was dancing the "Dying Swan". I didn't know that this was supposed to be a parody. When I saw her struggling, I tried to get someone in the audience to call an ambulance. I had to go to rehearsals after that. My father played at the Paramount in New York. He was also offered the organist's position at Radio City Music Hall. He gave a recital at Saint John the Devine on Riverside Drive. Later he helped with the specifications for the organ at the Presbyterian Church at E Lincoln and Columbus. That was supposed to be my church, but I never went after confirmation. The minister was Rev Joachim, There was a huge Walnut tree in the rear of the church. The kids would cherish these walnuts. We would hang them on a shoe lace and whack other kids' walnuts. The object was to destroy the other walnut. The kids had all sorts of "secret" recipes to harden their walnuts and hopefully make them impervious. Each walnut would have a title such as "five killer" which meant what you would suspect. Down by E Lincoln and Hutchinson was Drobner's Pharmacy. As a kid I went in and applied for a job at the soda fountain. I was told that I was too young but to come back later. I made a point to return in full uniform when I was in the Army. There was also a Texaco Station run by Mr Hanna. He was a nice guy and would perform limited maintenance on our bikes. There was also a Gristede grocery store in that block. They would take phone orders and deliver groceries. They had one of those tongs mounted on a long pole. With this tool they could grab items high on the shelves. A few years ago I was leafing through Popular Science magazine. They were discussing a new camera which could show far away items with remarkable clarity. As a demonstration they showed two pictures of a portion of a road map. The first was an example of the best current technology. You couldn't see anything. Next to it was a picture of that same piece of map as though taken through this new lens. You could see things in great detail. When I looked closer, I noticed that the piece of map they had used was centered on Sheridan Ave and Elwood. What a remarkable coincidence. Of all the places they could have chosen in the entire world, there I was. Shortly after that I contacted the MV Chamber of Commerce to try to get a similar map. They didn't have one. You always hear about how cruel kids are to one another. I don't think that my friends were particularly gracious or considerate, but none of us EVER picked on another kid. There were kids in the neighborhood who had cerebral palsy, had rheumatic fever which resulted in baldness and deafness, had rheumatoid arthritis which resulted in a bad limp, had sensitive ears, had polio, etc. We always let these kids play ball with us. Sure, we'd rag a kid who didn't get a hit, but not viciously or for very long. My friend had polio. There was a group of us who built and flew gas model air planes. We found an abandoned swivel chair and strapped him into it. Then he could fly a plane with us. I pushed him all over town. When I came to a hill, he would say "steady pace". If I slowed down on the hill I would be ragged. This resulted in my developing some massive leg muscles which persist to this day. As kids will do, I would squeeze wrestle with him. He would always beat me, because his arms and shoulders were huge. But ... I could beat any normal kid. This came as a surprise to many would-be tormentors. The fight would end when I grabbed a wrist. My opponent's hands would turn colors until he finally "gave". Nobody got hurt and the fight was over. Our softball games always included everyone who wanted to play. One of my friends was Roger Wylie. He is the son of Phillip Wylie who wrote Generation of Vipers. My first engineering job was with Litton Industries near the corner of Fulton and 3rd. The factory was in an abandoned locomotive repair facility. It was below street level. One of the "walls" was natural rock. When it rained, there was a nice little water-fall near my drawing board. There was a very steep driveway from the street to the parking lot. I was the only one who could drive up that driveway backwards. The Bailey Estate was just a few blocks from my house on Sheridan. The only distinguishing feature was a really neat tree-house somebody had built. The only trouble was that the tree was some sort of pine which oozed lots of sticky sap. The sap mixed with dirt left a kid with semi-permanent dirty hands. I don't remember any buildings on the estate. The closest structure was the Park Lane apartments on the corner of E Lincoln and Columbus. One summer some despondent kid jumped off the roof and did serious damage to himself, but he didn't die. 4th Ave was really nice when I was a kid. There was one nice store after another, and we patronized them all. There was Genungs which was a department store. They had Santa at Christmas time. Fennels sold furniture. Langdon's sold men's wear. It was owned my the Heller family. Sue Heller was in my class. There was Dorothea pharmacy, Mimi the Milliner, and a music store whose name I forget. There was a camera store and a Spalding sports store. There were three 5 and 10's - Greens, Woolworths and Kreskes (sp?)(which is now K Mart). I would walk every day from Davis High to Zephyr the hobby shop. Checking each parking meter always resulted in a little change. When I was very little, I was fascinated by the trolley which ran on First St to the 241st St El. I think there was also a line which went to Yonkers. The seats were covered with a closely woven straw-like material. The seats were convex and slippery. I had to hold on or I'd slide to my death. The trolley switched tracks by the New Haven station. I discovered that if I put a stone on the spring operated switch the trolley would go back on the same track from which it arrived. A rather large man shook his fist at me, and I never did that again. I never understood why the conductor would move the controls from on side to the other for no apparent reason. When I was at Wilson School, the school had a mascot which lived there. He was a nice dog named Sonny Boy. This dog knew all the kids. When he finally died, he was buried in the front yard of the school. We all chipped in and bought him a granite headstone with his name on it. Wilson School no longer exists - I wonder where the headstone is. In the basement of the Esplanade Apartments there was a laundry room. In those days people hired Black women to clean their houses and apartments. The basement was spooky enough with nobody there. Imagine how frightening it was for a little kid to wander into the laundry room with all the steam and perspiring Black women. They were nice to me, but I made a mental note not to go there again. The most frightening thing were the elevators in all the apartments. Each had its own personality, but they had one thing in common - they were all out to get me. The one in 56 Sheridan would go beyond the top floor and go beneath the bottom floor. It would make noises. You never knew if you'd make it to the floor you pressed. I visited MV in the summer of 1998. I was talking to a nice lady in front of the apartment. She invited me upstairs, but I wasn't going to fall for that old trick. That elevator has been waiting for me all these years. At 55 Pennsylvania the elevator had a solid door with a little porthole. One time the cable which supplies electricity to the car got stuck on the knob of the first floor door. The elevator strained and stalled between floors. The door opened exposing me to a solid brick wall which hadn't been seen by human eyes since the building was built. The cable was swinging into the car and making sparks when it hit its metal walls. I was TERRIFIED. I pushed the Emergency button, but knew that the Super was a moron who couldn't possibly help me. He did, however, manage to get the car almost to the next floor. I literally FLEW out of that elevator and never used it again. The elevators in the Esplanade apartments were so scary that I never tried them. I STILL have nightmares about the elevators at 101 Elwood. They had solid doors with no porthole. Once the car began to move you were totally at its mercy. The nightmares I still have involve that fiendish elevator which would not only go up and down but SIDEWAYS. It would also tip over. When the door finally opened, you could be almost anywhere. I haven't been on any of those elevators for over 50 years, but I'm still scared.