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Picture Credits:
Who can forget spending many a sultry night out on the fire escape, in those days before air-conditioners. Whether in daytime or at night, the sounds, sights and smells of the neighborhood are forever fixed in memory. Bear witness to the goings on, in my typical Bronx block, back in the 'good old days' of the 1950's
It's six o'clock in the morning on a bright clear Saturday. Most people on the block are asleep, recuperating from the workweek and trying to get an extra forty winks. The block is your typical city neighborhood. Several massive apartment buildings, a row of frame and brick houses, a empty sandlot in the middle and a beautiful church garden at the corner. It is peaceful at this time of day. Suddenly the silence is shattered by a thunderous shout , "WAAAATERMEEEELLLLOOOOON."
It's the Watermelon Man and his large, horse-drawn wagon. The shouts continue over and over again until he wakes up the whole neighborhood. Just to keep the guy quiet many people rush down to buy a watermelon. Phew, what a way to wake up. That's that. Then he's on his way to create havoc on another block.
It's not long after that incident, the Vegetable Man appears with his wagon, pulled by an emaciated-looking horse. He doesn't shout too loudly, just stops in the middle of the street to sell his fresh produce. Right behind him came the knife-sharpening truck. An odd-looking vehicle, with grinders and other tools to sharpen knives and scissors. There was plenty of standing room in the square-shaped cab. By this time there were maybe a hundred kids in the street, playing a variety of street games...Ringoleavio, stick ball, potsey, jump-rope (double-dutch), King-Queen. Others were riding home-made scooters, roller-skating, or just hanging out on the stoops. You must picture all this activity going on in a narrow, one-way street with parked cars on either side. The total length couldn't have been more than 60 yards from one end of the bock to the other! It was a bustle of activity, a din of noise and constant movement.
By mid-day the Good Humor Man came along with his smart looking white uniform and recognizable truck. Activities stopped immediately and everyone would scramble to be first on line to get and ice cream pop or whatever their favorite bar was. Pony rides were coming up the street and stopped at the far corner, followed closely by the mobile, mechanized carnival rides on flat-bed trucks. Does anyone remember them? The half-moon, swinging us back and forth in a huge crescent-shaped bucket. The whip, snapping our necks all over the place, and other varied rides.
Our favorite character is now ponderously, slowly, coming up the street in his horse-drawn wagon. It's the filthy Junk Man! He didn't have to shout at all, the three bells strung across the top of his seat summoned any super or resident that he was on the block to cart off any unwanted junk. He was a real seedy-looking character, always unshaven with disheveled clothes and a scrunched fedora on his head. His horse look extremely tired, so did he. This was our cue to assault him. The usual crowd of kids would shout insults and laugh at him, many trying to jump on the back of his wagon. He wouldn't stop he'd just continue up the street and then leisurely turn around in his seat and spit at the kids. Looked to me like he chewed tobacco! After we had our 'fun', it was back to business and the street games.
Toward the end of the afternoon, after many a horse had dumped in the street, a few hearty souls from the surrounding apartments would come down with a dust pan and pail and scoop up the horse dung. They used it for fertilizing their potted plants they had on the outside window sills. What innovative people! Well the day wasn't over yet.
On real hot days we'd open the Johnny-Pump (the fire hydrant that is) and have a ready-made beach. As cars passed, we'd jockey to try to douse the passing car in a torrent of water, using a coke can or bottle to get the full force. Hopefully the occupants would forget to roll up their windows. Remember, cars didn't have air-conditioners in those years, and so the side windows were always down. Even the side vents were left open.
The night was approaching fast. A few more visitors came round. Dr. Gibitose made some house calls. There were the Met Life insurance guys. Always traveling in pairs dressed in the usual gray suits. The seltzer man, milk man and maybe the Fuller-Brush man would also make the rounds that day. Sometimes, each week the local textile salesmen would drop by to show the housewives samples of his wares. It was a cash and carry business most times.
Here he comes, Ozok the Bum sauntering down the block. A local vagrant, with hardly any teeth in his head, he'd speak to us in a harsh, raspy voice. You'd find him in hallways, back allies or milling around Danny's Grocery store at the corner. The other derelict was Drunken George. His favorite spot was outside Tobin's Bar slugging down a bottle of Sneaky Pete or Muscatel, the cheapest wine money could buy. You'd find him sleeping on flattened cardboard boxes laid over those iron-door street entrances to the building basement. Yes, here were two charming characters. A fixture in the neighborhood. For a quarter you could buy a half a sweet potato or ear of corn, hot from the Sweet Potato vendor and his push-cart, another local man.
Last to arrive, usually, was the lone sanitation man. It was toward the late afternoon and he worked casually sweeping the street and manicuring the curbs with his large barrel on wheels, hugh bristle-broom and shovel. He was dressed neatly in his white uniform and short-brim white sanitation department cap. The uniform was spotless and always looked like it came right out of a Chinese Laundry, pressed and creased to perfection.
Meantime the kids played into the night, normally breaking for dinner around six o'clock and returning to the street afterwards. As the darkness fell, many parents who lived in the apartments facing the street called from their windows for their children to come. Those who lived in the back of the apartment house would go to the roof tops and shout down. It took a while to clear the streets. But the fun and games didn't stop then.
We'd continue indoors with board games like Monopoly, Clue, Go to the Head of the Class, Risk and many others. The adults would play penny-ante poker, pinochle, canasta, or watch TV (on a 13 inch black and white console), listen to the radio or just sit and talk. When we got through with the board games the girls played with their dolls, jacks, and make-up; we boys with our Erector Sets, tinker toys, army men, or Lionel Trains left over from Christmas. Toward bedtime, many kids would be lounging out on the fire escapes on blankets or mattresses spread over the gratings, desperately trying to stretch every possible minute out of the day. But eventually we turned in. Sweet dreams. By the way, I don't ever remember anyone using the fire escape to escape a fire! Thank goodness.
Those years were precious and I look back on them with nostalgia and fond memories. The city life was unique and mighty fulfilling!
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