brooklyn with danny and joe

MY FATHER MEETS THE NAVY

BY J.D.WALSH

“Did you hear, we are going into New York City,” Beebe said, “You promised to have a big party if we ever got to New York, and baby, we are going for three days!”

Being a sailor aboard the USS Independence (CVA62) in 1964 was like living in another world, and this world had over five thousand sailors who wanted to go to New York City. My friends wanted a special tour and some home cooking. Months ago I had said that if we ever pulled into New York I would have a party and show the guys around. The first thing I needed to do was break the news to my family and see if some of the guys could stay over for a few days. My Mom said sure but space was a problem, they lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. I assured my parents that only a few guys would show up and they would be happy to sleep on the couch or floor if necessary.

Being a boiler tender (called snipes) on an aircraft carrier my friends were tough and were always in trouble. Our Division Officer never missed a Captain’s Mast; one of us was always up on charges for fighting, and sometimes for coming back to the ship late. We worked hard and played harder.

Coming into the harbor there was great excitement, fireboats firing their hoses and people on the pier waiting for our ship to dock. We were down in the machinery space called “Three Main”, consisting of high-pressure boilers and main reduction gear for the propeller. Snipes rarely got to see the ceremonies; we were busy trying to get the ship into port so the parties could begin.

After the boilers were secured and we were finally allowed to leave the ship, there were three of us. Beebe and John were with me like glue, having never been to New York. Beebe kept saying, “Boy, this is great! New York, I can’t believe it.”

Just before coming into the City, I had to tell the guys some things about my family. My father was a bartender on the weekends at an Irish bar called Slatterey’s….their eyes lit up with that bit of news. I had two sisters, Agnes, who was four years older than I was, and Carol, who was three years younger.

I had to tell the guys about Carol’s terrible accident when she was ten, how she lost a leg and had to wear a wooden limb for the rest of her life. I asked them not to stare at it because it made her uncomfortable. I told them my mom wasa great cook and would make a roast beef dinner for them.

When we got to the end of the pier, there was Carol and two of her girl friends. Chuck and another sailor I did not know were talking to Carol and said to me “You didn’t say anything about a party?” Carol and her friends looked like they were dressed to kill, and Beebe said to me, “Your sister’s leg looks like a real leg.” I asked him not to stare and now there were five of us on the way to my parent’s apartment. By the time we went through the guard shack four other guys joined us and we were now a parade going down into the subway. I had told some of my other friends my parents phone number and was beginning to think this party was out of control. On the subway, we were now nine sailors and three women and causing something of a party mood on the train. We were all in uniform and people wanted to say hello, and Beebe was having a ball telling people how great it was to be in New York. John was staring at Carol’s legs and asked me which one was the artificial limb.

When we got off the subway train, people were waving goodbye and wishing us well, Beebe was in his glory. Chuck said we should stop and get some booze and maybe some flowers for my mom, so all of us went into the liquor store and bought fifteen quarts of booze. Sailors have never been called cheap, we loved to spend money when we had it, and now was no exception. We bought Chivas, Crown Royal, Vodka, Bourbon and wines. The liquor store owner was delighted and gave us a free set of glasses. The next stop was the supermarket and here the guys got carried away. They bought flowers, cheeses, ham, potato salad, fruits, vegetables and ice cream. When we left the supermarket, the people were waving and Beebe said to me “I just love New York!”

When my mom opened the door, her first words were “Oh my God”, and the parade of sailors with smiling faces greeted her and my oldest sister with enough booze and food for a month. Beebe was the first to give my mom flowers and asked where the kitchen was, Agnes was wide eyed and could not believe what she was seeing, my mom said to me, “A few sailors?”

My sister Carol got on the phone and called more of her friends, our next-door neighbor asked if we were opening up a new USO. The party was on and Beebe was making points galore, setting up drinks and creating a makeshift buffet. My oldest sister still had her mouth open and said to me “How many are coming?”

It was getting very warm inside my folks apartment so we opened the door and invited the people in the other apartments to join in the party. It was only two in the afternoon and a full party was going on, people came to see what was going on, and stayed, we were having a ball when my father got off the elevator and froze. His first words were “Jesus H. Christ!” but soon realized that everyone was having a good time and none of the neighbors were going to complain about the noise, they were all at the party. Sailors are strange human beings, here were these very tough guys being so respectful to my family, I almost did not recognize them. “Joe, did you tell John that I had a wooden leg?” Carol asked me during the party. “I thought there was something wrong with my shoes, your friends keep looking at my legs, what did you tell them?” Just in the nick of time my mom asked me to go and get more ice; Chuck and I went down to the supermarket and ran into four more guys from the ship. “How did you get the address?” I asked, “Your sister gave it to us when we called,” said a guy named Silverman, who I knew but not very well, the other three I only knew by sight and not by name. Returning to the apartment house we could hear the music coming up the elevator, things were warming up; I wondered how my folks were handling all the excitement. My mom was sitting in her big armchair with Beebe making a fuss over her; she seemed happy, my father was talking to the neighbors and seemed to be having a ball. My sister Carol and her friends were dancing with sailors and having the time of their lives. The little apartment had never witnessed so much excitement and everyone was behaving themselves, it was a great party.

Most of the guys had to be back for duty on Saturday so the party started to break up about ten, which was greeted with some joy by our neighbors. After everyone had left there was only Chuck and I sleeping over. Beebe had duty the next day so he had returned to the ship with the rest of the sailors. I got the couch and Chuck got the floor, Agnes made up a bed for Chuck with lots of blankets and pillows, he looked happy.

In the morning I got up first and went into the bathroom to take a shower and found Silverman sleeping in the bathtub. While I was trying to wake him up I heard my father yell “Jesus H. Christ!” Entering the kitchen, I saw my father looking under the table and there was Beebe snoring away.

Breakfast was a meal of comedy, we werelaughing so hard that it was difficult to eat. Beebe has left the party and stopped at Slatterey’s Bar to have one for the road, he ended up leaving the bar about two in the morning.

He had wanted to see the bar where my father worked that I had talked about many times. He said he walked the two blocks to Slatterey’s and Pat Slatterey himself bought him a drink and said it was good to have a sailor come in. When he learned that Beebe was a friend of mine there was no paying for any drinks, and the rest of the customers treated him like they’d known him all his life. He stayed and had a ball. When the bar closed he didn’t know where the subway station was so he came back to my parent’s apartment. Agnes answered the door and not knowing where to put him, made up a bed under the kitchen table

Silverman never made it to the subway either, he stopped at another bar and had a great time and came back about one in the morning and my mom made up a bed in the bathtub. Silverman was not in any trouble but Beebe had to be back on the ship at 0730 and he was in big trouble. He decided that once he went back to the ship he would be put on restriction so he chose to spend the rest of the day with us and go back tonight, one more Captain’s Mast coming up. Just as we were finishing breakfast the doorbell rang and there stood John and two more sailors, they were asking about Coney Island. We all decided that we would go to Coney and ride the Cyclone. We called four cabs and off we went, my parents shaking their heads at our spontaneous decisions. The weekend ended and we all returned to the ship. My friend John married my younger sister (after leaving the Navy), Beebe eventually got off restriction, and my father asked me, “Did you tell the guys that Carol had a wooden leg?”

FAMILY GAME OF CHANCE AND MORE STORIES

(BETTER IF YOU GO TO CH 1 AND WORK YOUR WAY TO CH 10--CLICK ON OLD ENTRY AT TOP OF JOURNAL)

The word would go out “Go get your money” and the family would go to different parts of the apartment to retrieve their stash. Everyone had their own hiding place for the little money we had. It was called the ripping of the oilcloth. My mother loved to play cards with the family; usually dad would win when we were young, but now that we were older and had more money, it was a real contest. My mother was the person who made the game of poker fun; she would never drop out of the hand even if you had her beat on the table. “Mom, I have a full house showing, and you don’t have a pair, you can’t beat me.” Mom would call any bet you made and then say, “I just wanted to see what you had”. Sometimes that is not bad strategy, but if you do it every hand, you will go broke, and mom did. My father would shake his head because he knew what was coming, “Denny, let me have some money”. When my father would protest she would say, “Don’t be such a fusspot,” reach over and get some more chips from his pile. This ritual happened at every game we played, except when mom was lucky.

The contest was about beating dad, when we were younger he would overpower us with money, and now to beat him was a great prize. The fact my father was a very good poker player added to the joy. The game would usually follow a discussion about the stakes of the game, we were all concerned about not really hurting anyone in the family financially, however once the game started you were on your own.

The game we played was dependent on the dealer, it was dealer’s choice and we played some strange games. My mom loved follow the queen, the wild card was the card following a turned up queen, which meant the wild card could change at any moment. You could go from having four of a kind to two pair by a flip of a card, mom just loved that game. I was the conservative of the group and liked five card stud, nothing wild. Agnes liked all the games and I think she favored five-card draw, jacks or better to open; she was also a good player. Carol loved wild cards and would call “Deuces wild” or “One eyed jacks wild”. Carol was the type of card player who could take all your money and you would spend a lot of time trying to figure out what happened. She beat me out of the chocolates and she used to beat me in the money games. Denis, when on vacation fromdoing God’s work, was also a good player, much more predictable than my sisters. The game always started on a reasonable level of betting, however the end of the game always, and I mean always ended with “Banker Broker”.

Banker Broker was a very simple game to play, depending on the number of players the deck of cards would be split into piles. The dealer had a huge advantage over the players and dad liked being the dealer. Each player picked a pile and made a wager by putting money on top of the pile, the remaining pile would be for the dealer, all ties went to the dealer and that gave whoever was dealing a big advantage. Once all the money was bet the dealer would turn over his/her pile and each player would then turn over their pile, if you beat the dealer’s card you won that bet. Dad would announce Banker Broker with a smile and I would moan, and say goodbye to my money. Sometimes things would backfire and dad would take a bath, but most of the time he would win and we would have to borrow money from him after the game. During the games, we had great fun sharing how our days were going. The best part were the stories, everyone loved to tell yarns about family members or something special that had happened years ago.

“Denis, do you remember the time of the sugar raids?” Agnes asked and the stories would begin. “We all used to wait until we heard mom and dad snoring away, and then slip out of our beds and crawl past their bed to get to the kitchen. Denis would do this four or five times a night. The rest of us would go for donuts or ice cream but not brother Denis; he would go for a sandwich made of butter and sugar. It got so bad I remember mom and dad would hide the sugar in the icebox. It only took Denis a few tries and he found where the sugar was hidden. Mom and dad became concerned about the amount of sugar and finally took a desperate step, they locked the icebox before going to bed. The only way dad could lock up the sugar was to wrap a big chain around the icebox and put a lock on the chain. This seemed to work really well until one night dad was tired and wrapped the ice box up before going to bed early and would you believe it, there was a knock at the door and when I opened it there stood Uncle John and family. Dad had the key and mom could not get the chain off before John, the oldest boy, announced that there was a big chain around the icebox. Mymom was mortified, and ran to wake up dad so he could explain why we had a lockand chain around the ice box.”

Carol, not having any luck with the cards would jump into the story telling, “Joe, remember the time you almost knocked down the ceiling of the old woman who lives across the street? Well, let me tell you what I know. Joe and some of his friends were playing stickball and the two “Spalldines” they were using landed on the roof and they had to go get them or the games would be over. They went over to Tony’s house and climbed up the fire escape to get on the roof. You know that old guy who lives a few houses down from Tony heard them on the roof and went up to find out what was going on. When he saw Joe and his friends, he started yelling and the chase was on. The only way to run was down the rooftops to the old lady’s house and jump. The problem with jumping meant going from a three story to a two-story house. Joe and his friends jumped and the old lady almost had a heart attack when they hit her roof. She came out yelling, the old guy up on the roof was yelling and Mrs. Pecci was yelling because one of Joe’s friends was her son.” 

I was winning the card game, so I was not paying too much attention to the look on my mom’s face, and then I saw it. The Walsh look, my mom did not know about me jumping off the roof. I made an announcement, “If I win at cards tonight, tomorrow after mass I’ll stop at the bakery.” The bakery was on Ralph Ave. and on the way home from church we sometimes would stop in and buys rolls, or the big half-vanilla and half-chocolate cookies, you knew you were near the bakery a block away, the fragrance was intoxicating. My favorite was the apple turnovers.

Dad was looking at the clock; I knew I only had a short time before he would say, “Banker Broker”. My mom saved us by saying, “Agnes, you remember the time Danny was running through the halls and trying to get everyone out because there was a fire downstairs?” I asked my mom to tell the story, hoping my father would forget about his game and I would get away with a few bucks. “Well, as I remember it, one of the Herberts was lighting the kerosene heater when somebody spilled the can and a fire started. This was a serious fire so Danny ran to warn the families in the house. He talked to Joe who ran in to wake up Agnes and tell her there was a fire downstairs and they all had to leave, and your sister looked at him and said something like, “The fire is downstairs, wake me up when it gets here.”

“Mom, your turn to deal,”Agnes said as she handed my mother the deck of cards. “Dad tell us about growing up in Ireland”, I asked. “Well, after the fourth grade I had to go to work for the rich farmer. We worked from sun up to sun down, and any money we made went to our family. I would see my mom and dad once or twice a year. “When did you come to America?” Carol asked “I got here in 1929, there was suppose to be gold on the streets; instead people were jumping out of the windows because they lost all their money.” “How did you get here?” I asked. “Your grandfather came first, then your Uncle Jack, then Uncle Bill and finally me. We all worked together to bring the next person over, but my sister fell in love and when it was time for my mother and sister to come over, they said no. Your grandfather went back to Ireland to be with your grandmother and we stayed.”

We were playing follow the queen and it looked like mom was going to win a big pot and God help the person who dropped out. Mom did win and Dad looked happier than my mom. “Joe, do you remember the time Mom and Dad had to give you your gifts on Christmas Eve because you thought Santa Clause was going to give you a piece of coal because you were bad all year?” Denis asked. “I wonder who told Joe something like that, Denis?” my mom asked. “He was crying so hard that his pajama bottom fell down and we could not stop laughing. The more we laughed the more he would cry, it was so funny.” said my older loving sister. “Well, you were bad all year and deserved to get coal” Denis said, there didn’t seem to be much arguing going on in my defense.

“Banker Broker” my father announced, the poker game was coming to an end. I remember thinking how I loved playing cards with this group and the next time we would play there would be new and funnier stories to tell.

GOING NORTH AND NO TOILET PAPER

We spent days getting ready for our first visit with Denis. This was going to be our big adventure to the northern part of New York State. My uncle was going to drive us because we did not own a car and he was coming somewhere between 3:00AM and 5:00AM on Saturday. We have never been outside of the city, never mind going four hundred miles to a place none of us knew existed before this trip. The place was called Montour Falls and would take us about eight to ten hours driving time. When 3:00AM came we were not surprised Uncle Tom had not arrived, he was always late. We started to tell stories of things that we did or funny events in the family. I remember one story that brought tears to our eyes we were laughing so hard.

Some time ago we were expecting a visit from our Uncle John and his family. They were the rich part of my mother’s side and we spent days getting the apartment ready for the visit. I did not like the two sons because one was a bully and the other was out in left field. We wore our best clothes, put out the best dishes, and the apartment was spotless. When they arrived, we all had to be present and say nice things, and stay clean. Things seemed to be going well when my mom realized that we were going to run out of toilet paper. She called my brother Denis into the kitchen and told him to go down to Nat’s and get some. My brother, being the most responsible son, ran off to Nat’s at full speed. A funny thing happened; the guys on our block had challenged another block to a stickball game. The reputation of the block was on the line. Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Tommy had to go to the bathroom. My mother, not wanting to admit we were out of toilet paper, told Tommy he could not use the bathroom because the sink was clogged and he would have to wait until Denis got back.

Denis realizing what this game meant to the block had no choice, he would have to play. My brother was a great stickball player; he could hit two sewers and catch fly balls with a fleet of trucks coming down the street. He just had to do it. Meanwhile back at the apartment Tommy was in pain and told my mom he had to go. My mother, knowing Denis would be back in a minute or two, said go ahead. Back at the stickball game Denis had hit a home run, two sewers. When Denis was going around the bases, Tommy was calling out to mymom, “Aunt Agnes, there is no toilet paper”. The game was tight and Denis could not leave, the score 5-4, the other block was ahead. Denis was due up again and couldn’t leave now; meanwhile, back at the house, Tommy again yelled out for help but my mom ignored him knowing that Denis was on his way. My mom told me, her irresponsible son, to go and find out what happened to my brother. I ran with full speed and saw Denis make a great catch. Telling Denis what was happening was not difficult for me, he was on the line, not me. Back at the apartment Tommy was yelling at the top of his lungs, “Somebody, help me, there is no toilet paper”. I think even my father was cracking up, but I didn’t see that. The legend in the family was Tommy had rings around his ass for a long time. Denis’ team won the game and Hancock St. was “Looking Good”.

Looking up at the clock, it was 4:15 AM, we knew we had some more time and Carol wanted to tell a story. “Once when I was young, I wanted to play cards with Joe. He would not play unless we played for something. I said let’s play for the Easter candy we had left over, five card draw, deuces wild. We played for hours and I was winning when Joe said, “Last hand; let’s put all the chocolates in the pot and winner takes all”. I got three tens, and Joe never showed me his hand, he just threw the cards down and put all the chocolates in his mouth and then said, “You win” and gave me the slimy chocolates.” Sometimes big brothers are just “Shits”.

It was Agnes’ turn and she told us a story we kind of knew, but not all the details. “Mrs. Mitchell was going shopping one day, and piled all the kids in the car, as you know there were six. On the way Buster fell out of the car and all the other kids were yelling at the same time. Mrs. Mitchell, who lives above us, did not pay any mind to the kids making all this noise. When she got to the store and realized that Buster was missing, she piled all, now five kids, back in the car and backtracked her route to find poor Buster. Buster, about four years old, was the type of kid who did not get excited about things and just kind of went with the flow. Mrs. Mitchell was now frantic, because Buster was nowhere to be found. She went back up Hancock St. all the way to Broadway and still no Buster. She brought the kids home and told her husband what had happened with tears in her eyes and then realized that Buster was sitting at the kitchen table eating ice cream. Mrs. Mitchell’s words to Buster were something like, ‘Don’t you ever fall out of the car again!’ That is my story of where is Buster?”

Just as Agnes said, “Where is Buster”, we heard a car and ran to the window, it was Uncle Tom and soon we would be on our way to visit with Denis.

The first thing we had to do after getting in the car was to get out of the city and head north or east, or northeast, there seemed to be a lot of discussion about how to get where we were going. My Uncle Tom drove and my father was going to be the map reader. I asked my mom if dad knew how to read a map and was told to be quiet. The seating arrangement was: in the front Uncle Tom, Aunt Betty and Dad, in the back: Mom, Agnes. Carol and I. Everything was packed and off we went. I don’t know who was first to say those terrible words for adults, “I have to go pee.” The thing that I do know it was not me. Mom told us, “No water in the morning and make sure you go to the bathroom before we start.” Must have been one of the “Sisters.”

“We will stop in a few hours”, we would hear that statement the entire trip. My Uncle Tom did not like to stop and we were still on the West Side Drive, “Watch for the big bridge,” my mom said. We were going over the George Washington Bridge and that was cool. “This was the longest bridge in the world,” Agnes said, I didn’t know about that, but it was great. Going across the bridge was like going into a wonderland, there were more trees than Prospect Park, it was higher than the parachute in Coney Island. “I have to go to the bathroom” was heard again but ignored. I saw a sign saying something about New Jersey, I asked my mom why we left New York and was shushed.

People make fun of New Jersey , but from the Washington Bridge the view was fantastic, at least for me. We stopped for breakfast about four hours into the trip, the three of us kids were told to use the bathroom. We were on a tight budget but the first meal we could order what we wanted. Uncle Tom told us we were about half way to the seminary.

We arrived on Rt. 14 before anyone thought we would, and Dad and Uncle Tom started looking for a motel. We were going to stay in a motel and Agnes told me I was going to get my own room. When we checked in I found out my room had other people staying in it, like the whole family. Uncle Tom and Aunt Betty stayed in one room and we stayed in the other room. The motel was very close to Denis but we could not see him today, there was some specialmass for the families tonight but we were not allowed to talk to Denis until after the Sunday morning mass. I remember thinking when we drove up to the seminary, Wow! God has a nice place.

Saturday night at the motel was like SNL, we told jokes and ate hamburgers and French fries, we stayed up late and had ourselves a ball, I remember thinking coming to visit Denis was going to be a great adventure. I think the adults went to the late night Saturday mass and we stayed at the motel. We would spend the day with Denis on Sunday.

The community, as it was called, was started in the Episcopal Church and the entire Society was accepted into the Roman Catholic Church in 1909. The most famous undertaking was the St. Christopher’s Inn, serving those who seek shelter.

Sunday we drove into the seminary and it was huge, like going into one of those southern mansions we saw in Civil War movies. The grounds were immaculate, and the buildings very new. When we went into the building for the church service I just knew God must live here, because it was beautiful and wondrous. I remember thinking, I should be on my best behavior because there were so many priests, nuns and about one hundred seminarians. The seminarians wore black cassocks and when they entered I thought it was a convention of morticians. The mass was very long, but the singing was beautiful. Denis was in the front row and he was singing away, a Walsh singing in a choir, something I never thought I’d see. When the mass was over we had to have breakfast with all the priests, and Denis was allowed to sit at our table. The meal was great and the scrambled eggs were delicious, they also had coffee cakes and rolls, I still remember the eggs. I don’t remember spending a lot of time with Denis, the adults wanted to talk to him so Carol and I were pushed to the side. We spent the next few hours walking around the grounds and I think we took Denis out to lunch. I remember looking at the Falls and was amazed by the power of the water. We did not stay very late because all the adults had to go to work on Monday, and we had school. The trip back to Brooklyn took a lot longer because of the traffic going into the city and Uncle Tom liked taking “Short Cuts”…. we got lost a few times. After we arrived home, we all agreed Denis looked happy. We met some of his friends, Tom Rocco and Joe Gagen who would become part of the Walsh family. That is another story.

Denis to God, Agnes to Work

During the fifties in the Catholic Church, there was a great attempt to recruit boys for the priesthood. The most successful way of doing this was to send in the missionaries. The Graymor Friars were very good at presenting great opportunities for young men who were attending Catholic grammar school. Denis signed up and our lives took another turn. We started saying the rosary. I am not sure what my father was praying for because he was against Denis going into the priesthood. My mother was torn between losing her son and her religion. We, as Catholics, believed that you were called by God to serve him and eventually you would accept this calling. “Many are called but few are chosen” was something that we grew up with, it was more than a statement, it was a way of life. I remember Denis had to go to a Catholic high school for a short period to make up some courses or wait for the term to start, I think he went to St. Leonard for a few months. Saying the rosary was boring, you say the same prayer repeatedly, I always wanted to say ditto, ditto. Our lives were now fully surrounded by the church. I was an altar boy, was a member of the “Squires” which was the Knights of Columbus for kids, attended mass almost everyday, and after Denis went into the seminary, sold the paper (Tablet) at the church on Sundays from 6:30 AM to 1:00PM.

I didn’t understand why Denis wanted to leave us, so he took me to hear one of the Graymor Friars during one of the retreats. A retreat is when Catholics say even more prayers and try to make their life more Christ like. The idea is good, the message the missionaries told us was very effective. I even started to think about becoming a priest and I was only twelve. The first thing you notice is how good they are at preaching, it was all about doing good in the world, about helping the poor, about walking in the shadow of St. Frances of Assisi. Listening to the friar, I kind of understood why Denis wanted to help other people. He would do that for the rest of his life. He really did follow in the footsteps of St. Frances.

While Denis was waiting to go to the Graymor Seminary he had to train me how to sell our Catholic paper called “The Tablet”. Denis explained that for each paper you sold you got three cents and the church got seven cents. He took me with him so I could watch and do as hedid. I didn’t like the split, but this was not the time to bring that up. After a few weeks, I was on my own.

I had to get up at 5:30 in the morning to be at the church for the 6:30 mass on Sundays, and stay until the last mass at 12:30. In between each mass you could go to the candy store and have hot chocolate, and I loved hot chocolate. Danny would come to help me and we would explore all the nooks and crannies of the church. We would go up to the choir loft and watch the mass from there, we only had to be in the church at the beginning and the end; so we had lots of time to look around. One day when we were exploring we found a storage area under the stairway to the choir loft and in that place, we found hundreds of old Tablets. I looked at Danny and started to laugh.

Selling the church paper worked like this….. we would pick up the Tablets about 6:15AM and at the end of the day return any unsold papers to the Franciscan Brother’s House. We would pick up a few hundred copies and sell what we could, we’d get three cents for each one and give the church seven cents. The brother who took the papers would decide how much we received. The unsold papers were only counted and never looked at for the date. We had a plan.

The next Sunday we sold two hundred papers and were to return fifty as unsold, however, a trip to the storage area under the choir loft increased our unsold “Tablets” to seventy-five. When we checked in with the good brother and gave him the money we collected, it was seventeen dollars and fifty cents, instead of the twenty dollars we should have given him. Worked like a charm. We did not make much but it was a good test run. The next Sunday we found out that all the unsold papers were stored in this area under the choir loft for several weeks. We would have extra papers forever. Going to confession and telling the priest we were stealing from the church was something we were not looking forward to, but the extra hot chocolates sure tasted good. When we said our penance, we had to break it up because if you stayed too long at the communion rail, our parents would want to know what you did that caused such a long penance. Our luck ran out when my brother Denis who was checking the altar boy schedule for me, saw Danny and I putting the old papers in between the new ones. He didn’t say anything right away but gave me that “Walsh Look”.

I remember Denis telling me that stealing from the church, no matter how small would be considered a big sin and we were fired. I was only eleven and got fired.

The day of Denis’ departure was approaching and we were all sad, I don’t know a lot about the Friars of the Atonement, as they were called, but do know they had cool habits to wear and when we did go to visit Denis they had great scrambled eggs. The seminary was located in a place called Montour Falls, upstate New York, somewhere close to Watkins Glen. Our journeys to visit Denis are stories in themselves and have to be told later. After Denis went up the river, our family suffered another major blow; my father was seriously injured on the job. He fell from a ladder and fractured his skull. The greatest impact was felt by Agnes who was sixteen.

Agnes was going to high school and taking courses designed so that in the future she would get a nurse’s license. The future looked bright; she was a great student and was doing well in her studies. My father falling from the ladder changed everything. There were no options for my father and mother, Agnes would have to quit school and go to work to support the family. The staff at the high school tried to convince my mom to let Agnes stay and work part time, but the program could not come up with enough money to keep the family going. This must have been a heartbreaking decision for my mother, she wanted all of us to get a good education and enjoy life. Agnes found a job with a big company named Continental Insurance, she was going to be a bookkeeper. That’s what Danny and I needed….. someone to keep our books.

Once Agnes was working, she also had to go to continuation school, which was the law in New York at that time. The weirdest part of the law was you could not go to night school before you were seventeen, so once a week the company had to allow you to take time off to attend a four-hour class. I am not sure what Agnes did in her continuation school, but when I went, we sat and copied words out of a dictionary, page by page. The teacher did not want to be there, we didn’t want to be there, it was a big waste of time. Agnes would lose time completing her high school because of the stupid law. Since Agnes was working and Denis was up the river, guess who got to watch Carol. I was twelve and did not want a little sister around to tell mom all the bad things that we did. Carol was about nine, and so I thought she was old enough to be on her own, but mom and dad didn’t agree, so Carol was with me a lot. She was a good kid, and most of the time we got along. She would watch me play stickball and became a cheerleader for her older brother. She did have some cute friends, but they were way too young for me, I liked older women, at least thirteen.

Agnes had to give all her money to mom and dad, and I think they gave her some kind of lunch money; we were very poor during that time. Agnes saved the family from disaster and of course, we never gave her the credit she deserved. There was something about Irish families not praising one member of the family for fear of hurting the others. Agnes did finish high school, go on to teach catholic school, and go to Brooklyn college.

When my father did go back to work, it took a long time to pay back the money we owed and Agnes had to keep working. She was now in Thomas Jefferson night school and completed school there. It was not an easy task, especially the way Agnes did it; she would never miss a class and worried about getting A’s, not to mention working at a full time job. I was happy she had the weekends free, we would need her laughter when we made our first trip to see Denis.

PEAS AND CARROTS AND DAD’S OMELETTES

One of the golden rules at the Walsh’s home was “No wasting food”. Being an adult, this rule is easy to understand. When you are ten, this is a rule that you hate. Let me say this right off the bat, I hate peas and carrots. When I was ten, I hated peas more than carrots, green peas have no value, and they will not even stay on your fork. You can tell me all the nutritional stories you want, peas have no use, except maybe for rabbits, or is that carrots; hell, give the rabbits both. When we ate dinner there was always a vegetable with the meat and potatoes. I tried for years to convince my parents that a potato was a vegetable but they would never buy my pleas. I would get the big dictionary and show them, “Look Mom, it says a potato is a veggie”, my Mom would look at me and say “Eat your vegetables”. There was one vegetable that I loved and that was spinach. Popeye the sailor ate spinach and he was strong, I never understood why I could not eat spinach when the rest of the family ate the rabbit food.

How not to eat vegetables was a topic we spent a lot of time on in the clubhouse, we all agreed that our parents were unjust. What we needed was a plan; we had to figure out a way of getting rid of the rabbit food. Danny talked about hiding the vegetables under the plate; Tony thought a good way was to drink water just after putting the vegetables in you mouth to wash them down. Frank said he loved his mom’s cooking and did not have to eat vegetables. We liked eating at Frank’s house. James just laughed and said “Feed the dog”. “I don’t have a dog, I have a cat and he won’t eat peas and carrots”.

It was obvious to me I would have to find my own way of dealing with the food that made me want to give up eating. The next time I saw the little green balls on the plate I tried to hide them under the plate, was caught and had to wash and dry the dishes. The next time I tried to feed the cat, he looked at the peas on the floor and kept going, I just knew he was thinking, “Are you serious?” After washing and drying the dishes again, I thought of a plan that might just work, all I needed was a little bit of that Irish luck that I was blessed with. The next few days we did not have peas and carrots. I was looking forward to trying out my plan, but we had pizza, hamburgers and spaghetti. Finally on Saturday night there they were, the little balls that no one should be made to eat. We said our prayer of thanks, and the contest was on. The second golden rule was, nobody could leave the table until you finished all your vegetables. I ate everything on the plate except the rabbit food and waited until everybody was finished and left the table. The only people left were my Mom and me, she was washing the dishes and every time she turned around, I would grab a handful of peas and stick them in my pocket. Worked like a charm.

I was so happy, no more eating peas, gone--- first they would go into my pocket, then a visit to the bathroom and down the toilet they would go. No more dreams of big carrots and rolling peas chasing me down the street. The next few weeks I looked forward to all the things my Mom would make, I had a plan and it was working. One night my mom made meat loaf, turnips and peas and carrots. I hated turnips but not as much as my brother Denis did. I had to wait for Denis to finish before I could pack my pockets full of the rabbit food and the turnips, but Denis was not eating. My mom was almost finished with the dishes and I had to make a move soon, Denis had not touched his turnips. This was bad! My brother was thinking about going into the seminary to become a priest, so I knew he would not fink on me, but I did not like giving up my secret. I tried to hide my stashing, but Denis saw me and watched as I asked to be excused to use the bathroom. In and out and I was on my way to play while Denis was still at the table. All the guys got a big laugh about me out foxing my older brother. The next few weeks were great, the weather was warming up and soon we would be out of school and the summer would be here, I was enjoying life.

The luck of the Irish is a myth, and my luck ran out the night the peas were served again. Dinner went as usual; there was roast beef, mashed potatoes, and peas. I was not concerned, I ate the roast beef, which I loved; the mashed potatoes were ok I waited for the rest of the family to finish. Just like clockwork, Carol, Denis and Agnes completed eating, and just my Mom and I were left in the kitchen. I packed my pockets and asked to be excused to go to the bathroom, but Agnes beat me to the one bathroom we had. This was not good because the longer the peas stayed in my pockets the better the chance of staining. I waited and waited, finally Agnes came out and I was headed to the toilet when Agnes cornered me and squeezed my pocket, then Denis was on the other side smashing the peas in the other pocket. I was dead. They didn’t say a word, and when my mom asked what was going on, they just laughed and said something like, “Oh nothing ,we are just kidding with Joe”.

Once I got into the bathroom the damage was clear, I was dead. The peas were impossible to clean. The pockets of my jeans were stained and when my mom washed my pants she always checked the pockets. I thought of all the things I could say to mom, like peas come from pods and I thought they were going to steal my body, like in that scary movie. Maybe I could tell her Agnes and Denis put them in my pockets. No, I knew that would not work; Denis was going into the priesthood and Agnes was the keeper of the LIST. I guess the only thing to do was pick a good time and tell my mom that I was stashing the little green monsters in my pockets.

There is only one other time I can remember that I hated going to the dinner table, and that was when dad did the cooking. I come from a very Irish family and fathers did not do the cooking. Life in the fifties was simple, men worked, women took care of the house. There was a time when my mom went into the hospital and we were left with dad. He still had to work and then come home to make us dinner. This is the story of dad’s omelettes.

We loved my mom and were concerned about her being in the hospital, it would change our lives for some time. Agnes became the lady of the house and did a good job taking care of us, something she would do throughout our lives. Denis was getting ready to go off to the seminary and Carol was still very young. I remember the first time I saw the omelet, I thought it looked like a big yellow pancake. That’s what I thought, we were going to have pancakes for dinner…. I liked pancakes.

The first indication I had that something was wrong were the things sticking out of the pancake. Things don’t stick out of pancakes. I used my fork to move it around, it was a slimy piece of something and I don’t mean a little piece. It went into the pancake and when I pulled it out it had a head, it looked like a slug, I yelled “Dad there’s a slug in my pancake!”.

“That’s not a slug, it is an onion” said Agnes, “That’s a pea” said Denis, with a big grin. What was I going to do, there was nothing on the plate that I liked. “Dad could I have just a plain pancake?” I asked. “That is not a pancake, it is an omelet and I put some potatoes in,Iknow you like potatoes, eat!” My mind was racing, I tried to remember what the guys said about hiding food. I moved some under the plate, I drank so much water with each bite that I was getting seasick. The stashing in my pockets was out, Denis and Agnes were watching me. The meal went on and on, nobody was eating, not even Carol and she ate just about anything. My father made an announcement, “The first one to finish will get a quarter and not have to do the dishes”.

This would be the first time that I turned down money and a chance to get out of doing the dishes. I waited and watched Agnes put the slimy thing in her mouth and swallow; for a quarter, Denis was in the contest but I think Agnes won the race. I was alone, in the kitchen, with the omelet.

Snow Adventures and Kissing Girls

January in Brooklyn came in with great celebration and ended with gray skies and sad days. After the New Years Eve parties there was not much to look forward to, and the days were shorter. There were some good things coming up, Agnes’ birthday and maybe a snowstorm. I remember coming home from school one day and saw that one snowflake on my jacket, “Hey guys, it’s snowing”. We did not get too excited because it snowed a lot in January, but if the snow started to stick then things would be looking good. Going to bed that night I looked out the window and saw white, on the cars and in the street. I looked up and said that snow prayer, “Hello God, please, please let it snow all night.” The next morning when I ran to the window, there was a sight to be seen; the cars were covered, the street was white, kids were already out throwing snowballs and there was wonderful laughter. I ran into my parent’s room and asked it I could go out and play, my dad said something like, “yea, yea just go”. I took that to mean I could go and play. I was having a great time “Bellywopping” with my sled when suddenly both of us were in the air. My father said, “Jesus H. Christ, what the hell are you doing?” and with that, back to the house we went. I explained what I thought he said; and with the luck of the Irish, was not sent to the cellar for cleaning detail.

Coming back to the house, the rest of the family was just getting up, it was only six in the morning, my mom looked at me and said “And you were where?” When breakfast was finished we all went out into the wonderland of the white snow, it was great. All the kids from the block were now coming out and some parents too; we had this big snowball fight and tried to build a fort in the middle of the battle. Bellywopping was taking your sled and running as fast as you could and throwing it in front of you, jumping on and riding as long as you could. Sometimes you hit concrete and the sled would stop and you would keep going, but not today, the snow was very deep.

One of our special sled rides was to go across the street, where the big stoops were, cover them with snow, and ride down the twenty steps all the way across the street. You had to watch out for cars and trucks but most of the time the streets were clear. We would be out in the snow all day, coming in for hot soupand to change our gloves, which always became frozen for some reason. When it started to snow again we could not believe our luck, our parents looked a little worried. This was Saturday and we had all weekend to play and have a great time. We built a big fort and hid inside throwing snowballs at the girls who would scream and run away, we started on a big snowman and looked for things to put on him. When we got up in the morning the big kids would have smashed the fort and knocked over the snowman, but we needed something to do tomorrow anyway.

Sunday morning was another day that the streets were still white, one of the sad things about the snow in New York is you have very little time before the snow turns to a slushy brown. This snowstorm was deep enough that we would have maybe a week where we could ride our sleds. There was a park in Brooklyn called Highland Park about a mile from our house, it had a great history, but what we were interested in was Snake Hill (Highland Blvd). We would pull our sleds along Bushwick Ave. and head for the Evergreen cemetery, which was our halfway point. The rest of the trip was fun and usually went by very fast. There was a low section of the wall around the cemetery and we would climb up and walk along the edge. The longer you walked the higher the wall, and at one point they put in an iron fence that caused us to walk on the outside of the fence very close to the edge for the last few hundred feet. The wall rose to about thirty feet and if you fell you were in deep trouble; even if you lived your mother would probably kill you for being up there. Once you came down from the wall, there was the park and Snake Hill was waiting for you.

The starting point for our run was near the reservoir at the top of the hill. There was a sidewalk running down the hill and that would keep you safe from the cars and trucks. The down side, if you ran into someone walking up the hill you had to go around or into the street. The biggest and scariest part of the run was when you came to the bottom of the hill. After traveling about a half mile, and going down a steep hill, stopping before you got to Jamaica Ave. was difficult. There were only two choices, (1) You dump the sled by turning it over, and (2) Going through a very busy street; we usually dumped.

This young girl really had me trapped, her family was the only one who owned a TV, and we would go up a few nights a week to watch Superman or Howdy Doody. We would sit on the floor and every time a commercial would come on she would turn around and kiss me, she would be blowing bubbles with her saliva one minute and the next minute kissing me on the cheek. The adults in the room thought this was cute, I thought is was gross. I bet I was the first person to hate commercials. The only thing I thought was more gross than being kissed by an after bubble was the women who would spit on their handkerchief’s and then wipe my face.Being a young Irish kid had many advantages, but having a face full of freckles was not one of them. Mom, my Aunts, and sometimes-even strangers would say, “Come over here and let me wipe your face.” then they would spit on something and rub my face,… what was that? I cannot for the life of me figure out what they were trying to do, sometimes it was as if they were trying to wipe away my freckles! “They are freckles, not dirt”, I would say. Do you think they would listen? No, they just had to do it; spit and wipe.

The first time I enjoyed kissing a girl was during one of my sister’s parties, I think it was her birthday party, maybe her 13th. Danny and I stayed around but kind of off to one side, because we were fours years younger than the kids who were invited. We had the normal things to eat like cake and ice cream, but the best part was “Spin the Bottle” and “Post Office.” I am not sure how we got into the game, but I was matched with one of Agnes’ friends and had to go into the dark bedroom to kiss her. I was too short so I pulled up a chair that brought me up close to her height. She didn’t look too happy about getting Agnes’s little brother to kiss, but I did my best imitation of an older boy. When I was kissing her someone walked through the bedroom, but I was too busy trying not to mess this kiss up. My friends wouldn’t tease me about kissing a thirteen year old. Later, I found out is was my Mom who walked through the bedroom and asked Agnes who the big kid was kissing her friend. The guys at our clubhouse loved this story, there was no more teasing me now!

Franciscan Brothers and the Christmas Fire

Going back to school was always a confusing time; on the one hand we would be in the fourth grade and that was good, on the other hand, we would be facing the Franciscan Brothers. The stories we heard in third grade and watched during recess made us all very nervous. Danny and I would be in the same class and Bro.Owen was going to be our teacher.

Bro.Owens’s greeting on the first day of school was the determining factor that made me say “Oh shit” a lot that day. The first thing that happened we were put into seats according to our size, the smallest in front and the big guys in the back. Danny and I were in the second row very close to the teacher’s desk. I looked at Danny and said my first “Oh shit.” Bro. Owen asked me if I had something to say, “No, brother, I have nothing to say”, on paper the words look clear, but when I said them I was so scared that the words came out in a whisper. After we were in our seats, Bro. Owen announced, “When I am in the back of the room and look down the aisle I want to see one head.” We could not figure out what he was talking about until the first kid was smacked in the head with the good Brother’s hand, and a big hand it was. You have to remember, in the fifties corporal punishment was not only allowed, it was expected, and let me tell you I met the corporal a lot in Bro. Owens’s class. The next event to take place ….our meeting with “THE CYCLONE.”

The Cyclone was a two by four construction type board, it was about three feet in length and the good brother would swing and hit you on the ass. The pain was terrible and would leave marks however, the hardest part was the waiting. You did not get to meet with the cyclone until after school; who was hit was also very subjective. Bro. Owen was a weird human being full of contradictions, sometimes he would go out, play with the class, and pitch box ball for us, and the next day would come and beat the hell out of some kid for a minor infraction like looking out the window. I will say this…. he did have the quietest room in the school, and you did not dare forget your homework. Bro. Owen would have made a great head nurse in “One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest”.

Our Lady of Good Counsel (1886), grammar school was divided into two sections, one for the boys and one for the girls. The girl’s building was larger and sometimes wewould go over there for assemblies and other events, but the boys and girls were kept apart as much as possible. Going over to talk to the girls would get you a visit with the cyclone, so we did not do that very often. The girls were taught by nuns, who by my two sister’s accounts were much better than the brothers. Bro. Owen was the worst of the group of religious who was teaching at that time, we did get Bro. Allen in the fifth grade and he was a whole story unto himself. When you go to a religious school, everything is mixed with religion. Every Monday morning when taking attendance, we would say, “Here, mass and communion.” This told the brother that you were at the nine o’clock mass on Sunday and you received communion. Occasionally one of the kids would say “Here, mass”, there would be a dead silence and the brother would ask “Communion?”, if the kid said no, then it was a meeting with the cyclone. I could never figure out why a kid would be so honest; lie I would tell them!!. The only good thing about being taught by the head nurse was that all of the other brothers were a lot easier to take. By the time we moved to the fifth grade we were ready for just about anything. Near the end of our time with the good Bro. Owen, an incident caused the whole school to be wide-eyed and shocked. James Carroll, one of my best friends, was doing something that angered Bro Owen and was slapped from behind, (seemed like a normal belt in the head to me) but James hit his head on the desk and got a bloody nose, then got up and said he was going home. Bro. Owen grabbed him as he was going out the door and ripped his shirt. James’ father was a big truck driver who happened to be home when James arrived, and was so angry that he stormed into our classroom and grabbed Bro. Owen by the face and told him he was going to beat the hell out of him. We, with our mouths wide open, were rushed out of the classroom as the Principle and the other brothers pulled Mr. Carroll off the good brother. It was great!

After all the excitement at school, the next big thing coming up was the Christmas vacation and this was going to be a big celebration. We were going to go over to my Uncle John’s house and he was the rich part of the family. My uncle John was a VP of Chase Manhattan Bank, lived in a big house and we were going to spend the day after Christmas with his family. There were two boys by the names of John and Tommy, Tommy was near my age but very different. There are some funny stories about the two families, but they did love each other in their own way. This Christmas vacation time would be last time we would spend with my mother’s brother.

The Christmas season in Brooklyn is full of great joy and celebration, everything you do is a celebration, even going to buy the Christmas tree was cause for laughter and joy. I remember going down to Broadway Ave. and spending hours looking for the best tree. When the wind is blowing and it is cold, shopping for a tree is a lot more fun. My father and brother would take me along and the three of us would look for that special cut. Once the tree was found, my father would take us in the neighborhood bar and we would get a soda and watch the men play shuffleboard and hoped that dad did not drink hard liquid. Beer drinking would keep all of us out of trouble; seven and seven was a big no. When the tree arrived home, we would all decorate it and wait for Santa to show up. I was not sure about the Santa Clause thing, but my younger sister Carol still believed and that meant no gifts in sight. This year we would make out like bandits because of our visit to my uncle’s house.

We received all our new clothes the night before Christmas because we were going to visit our Aunt Maryanne and Uncle John. We all bought gifts for the family and just knew that we were going to get good stuff. When we arrived at the house, all the decorations were up and the tree was wonderful, gifts galore and there was even a train that ran around the tree. We were given sodas and eggnog; the party was on. We kids headed to the tree, looked at all the gifts and tried to figure out which one was ours. John and Tommy were showing us their new electric train and that is when the fire started.

The first one to notice the fire was John, a spark was created by the electric train set, causing the cotton around the tree to catch fire. The fire was just like the one above, it was out of control. The next thing that I remember, (or was told later), was that my sister Carol ran behind the tree and came very close to burning. My father grabbed her and we all were yelling for our parents. We all ran out of the house and there was a great amount of confusion, finding all the kids was our parents main concern, and once all the kids were accounted for, uncle John ran back into the burning building to look for my Aunt Maryanne’s mother and her sister Ann, who lived on the first floor. Seeing the three of them meant we were all now safe.

The firemen arrived within minutes and the fire was contained to the living room with water damage to the rest of the house. I don’t remember much about what happened after the fire, but we were all alive and I hope that my family celebrated that, and not think of all the things we lost that night. One of the casualties of that fire was we would have an artificial tree for the rest of our time growing up. I am not sure if we kept our real tree that year, but the rest of the years we did not go shopping for the perfect tree.

The 4th of July and the Playful Summer

The 4th of July in Brooklyn was celebrated with great joy and wonderment. The kids had sparklers and fireworks; all the families were on the stoops to watch and make sure we did not burn down the neighborhood. Danny and I had packed away enough fireworks to supply our family and friends for hours. We had firecrackers, cherry bombs, and a few roman candles, the night would be great fun for all. Our friend James came up with the idea of tying steel wool to a rope, lighting it and making this wide circle. The sparks flew everywhere and our parents almost had a heart attack, my father could be heard yelling, “Jesus H. Christ!” James only got to do it once, but I remember that this was a spectacular display. The noise on the block sounded like we were once again at war, there were flashes in the sky from the roman candles, there were cans flying in the air from the cherry bombs and of course the sound of firecrackers. We learned if you took a full pack of firecrackers and lit the end; it would sound like a machine gun. Our families never knew how many fireworks we had, Danny or I would just slip away, go to our secret hiding place in the basement and bring up more fun stuff. This was the best 4th of July that I can remember in my childhood. The only thing better that year was we did not have school for over two months.

When the 4th of July was over, so was our money making business, we needed another way of making the big bucks. My brother Denis was selling a paper at the church and doing ok, maybe he would let us help. The paper was called “The Tablet” and was put out by the Catholic Church to keep all us sinners in line. This is the paper where my sister Agnes would cut out the LIST. Denis would deliver papers on Saturday and sell them at the church on Sunday. Delivering the paper sounded better because to sell the paper on Sunday you had to get up at five o’clock in the morning to catch the six thirty mass. Danny and I didn’t want any part of that deal.

Denis turned us down, so we went back to the Food Fair and made a few bucks helping the women with their packages. We always made enough money to go see a movie or go to Cypress Hill Swimming Pool. The pool was a community run operation and it was a wonderful place for city kids to get away from the heat. We were not allowed to go alone because you hadto ride the train to get there. The same train that Danny and I were on during our first adventure was the one you needed to ride. Most of our friends would go on Monday or Tuesday because it was so crowded on the weekends. My first trip to the pool was with my brother Denis and my sister Agnes. The train would take about forty minutes and the best part was the long last turn the train would make before going into the Cypress Hills Station. All the kids would run to the windows because you could see the pool as the train turned. The pool was huge, it had a diving section, it had the highest water slide that I ever saw, and it had a shallow end for kids. In the low end two lions had water coming out of their mouths. I would love this place for many years.

The first thing we did when finally getting to the pool was to get a locker and then we would be in the water like a flash, not wasting any time, “In the water guys”, would be the cry. In between the lions there was a stairway that went down into the low end of the pool; this was always our starting point. We would make our way towards the deep end and go up to our necks, we did not know how to swim but going under water never seemed to bother us very much. After a few hours of trying to swim and horsing around we would go and get some good stuff to eat. There were hot dogs, knishes, hamburgers, egg creams and of course my favorite, pizza…

There was an area off to the side of the pool that was used as a place to lie out in the sun and eat your food. There was also a shop that had this little guy who was bent over who rented comic books. Your could rent a book for about two cents but you had to leave your locker key as collateral. When we were eating I was watching the people on the diving boards, that looked interesting and Danny and I would soon be up there with the big kids, but not for a year or two. Going to Cypress Hills Pool was almost as good as going to Coney Island.

We did not get to go to Coney as much as we wanted; there was something that made our parents nervous about the place. There was one section of the Island that seem to be ok, and that was Steeplechase Park. This was a park inside a park and you had to buy special tickets to get in, kind of like Disneyland. There were wonderful rides inside the park, I remember going down the twisting slides, the spinning wheel that would drop the floor out from under you and you would stick to the walls as centrifugal force wouldhold you, and we would scream and scream, not knowing how we did not fall. We rode on racehorses that looked like the horses on the merry-go-round but moved down a track with great speed. The winner of the race would get some prize that would make you smile. Swimming in Coney was not something we did; the water was very calm, almost like a lake. Riss Park was the place for swimming in the ocean. There were big waves your could ride, and swimming was a great battle. Wave after wave would knock you down two or three times before getting past the first barrel, and then fighting the currents was great fun. There were three barrels attached to a rope and going out to the last one was something you would brag about to your friends. We would spend hours building forts with moats and towers just to watch the tide come in and wipe them out. Sometimes as the water would surround the fort we would think it might just hold, but the ocean does not like barriers and soon there would be smooth sand and we would dive back into the water to fight the waves, it was wonderful. Have you ever noticed bologna sandwiches taste great at the beach; I don’t like bologna except at the beach, always a mystery for me. The other thing about going to Riss Park that I loved was the “jets”. Going over the Marine Parkway bridge there was a point that my Uncle Thomas would announce that he was turning on the jets under his car and sure enough you could hear the sound of the jet engine. For years we thought that my uncle had a car with jet engines, and my wonderful Uncle Thomas did nothing to discourage our fantasies. Only after our older brothers teased us about it, did we figure out that is was the structure of the bridge and not jet engines. I have to talk about my Uncle Thomas more because he was such a giving and generous person.

Thomas McKeefery was my mom’s favorite brother and they stayed close for most if not all of their lives. I knew him as a New York fireman who worked long hours at night and then would come to our house to take four kids and sometimes as many as seven to the beach. Sometimes he was late, and that would make us mad; as an adult I laugh at the self-centered lives of children. He would be fighting fires all night and have the generosity to come and take us to the beach. He had a great sense of humor and had a wonderful laugh. I never really got to thank him as an adult for all the things he did for us as kids, so thank you Uncle Thomas for being part of our lives. I think of you often and do remember. He did not get married until he was in his forties, and our Aunt Betty was as generous as he was. There is a very special place for goodness and it is occupied by these two family members.

Being an altar boy was great fun for Danny and me, because we never took it too seriously and kept our sense of humor. The priests were all a little odd, but I remember that we had fun and they treated us with respect. Fr. McCabe was the priest who was in charge of the altar boys and would take us on trips to Jones Beach to see a musical play and have a great time. During the mass both Danny and I made some funny mistakes. Danny could never get the ringing of the bells straight, he would get lots of nasty looks from the priest when he would ring the bells at the wrong time. To this day I think he just like ringing bells. My mistakes were just as bad if not worse. I remember being told by one of the priests to go and open some windows because it was very hot in the church. I was supposed to open the bottom part of the stained glass windows but decided that opening the tops would bring in more cool air. The second window I tried was stuck and I pulled with all my might and broke the window. Glass went everywhere and the women in the pew went scrambling to get out of the way. The glass made the loudest noise and all eyes were on me holding the cord in my hands and trying to figure out what happened, it was the last time I was told to open windows in the church. One of the duties we had as altar boys was to hold the gold plate under the chin of the person who was going to receive the body and blood of Christ. The temptation was always too much for us not to hit the Adam ’s apple of one of our friends. We just couldn’t resist.

The summers in Brooklyn can be very hot, and you could not go to the beach everyday so to cool off we would turn on the “Johnny Pump”. The streets had several fire hydrants, all it took to turn one on was a pipe wrench, and we would turn them on full blast. The fire department would come around and shut them off when they noticed a pressure drop in the water system. We would wait a few minutes and turn them backon. Sometimes the cops would come and take our pipe wrench and we would have to borrow another one from our dad’s toolbox. There was always a shortage of pipe wrenches in Brooklyn during July and August.

Some of the wonderful things you could do with the Johnny pump on full blast were to use a big soup can with holes in the bottom and wash the windows all the way across the street. Sometimes people would get really mad because their windows were open and we did not notice that fact. The other thing we would do was riding the water; the pressure was great enough to push you all the way across the street. Mothers would get upset because our bathing suits would not last very long after hitting the ground. Turning on fire hydrants was a long standing tradition in Brooklyn and I suspect it still goes on to this day.

The summer was coming to an end, and school was just a few days away, our time at the swimming pool was over, Coney Island and Riss Park were now memories. The fall and winter were coming and we had great ideas for sledding and building forts out of the snow.

FIREWORKS AND THE LEGION OF DECENCY

Buying fireworks meant we had to raise about ten bucks, a lot of money for kids. We also had another problem. Tony, who told us about where to buy the fireworks, wanted in on the deal. Danny and I decided that Tony could help us raise the money to make our first buy; after we resold the fireworks, we would always have enough money to make the next run to China Town. The only way to raise the money was to go to the big grocery store called Food Fair, and help the customers carry their packages to their homes. We all had wagons made of wood and wheels from baby carriages. Three of us working together should be able to get our loot in one Saturday and maybe even make our first run to the land of easy money on Sunday.

The three of us spent most of Thursday and Friday convincing our parents that working at the big grocery store was a good idea. Food Fair was new to the neighborhood and our parents did not like the idea that we would be a few blocks away. Danny and I knew that once one of our parents said ok we would be on the road to our next adventure. My father was a hard worker who thought that you had to pull your own weight in this world, and Danny and I worked that concept for the two days. Tony got permission almost immediately and we pointed that out to my dad.

Finally, we got the ok from my dad and the rest of the family fell in line. My mom was not too happy about the idea but went along. Now we had to convince the store to let us bag groceries and leave our wagons outside the store. The Three Musketeers were on their way to riches. What we did not know was how hard the work would be. The only way to get a customer to say ok when you asked them if they needed help with their groceries was to act as a bagger and pack all the food in paper bags. We wanted to be the first kids there so we started out about nine in the morning. The first one to get a delivery was Danny and he came back with a fifty cent tip, we were on our way. The day became busier as the hours passed by, we were getting good at bagging and got to know all the checkers. Tony had one run that gave him a seventy-five cent tip; that was three movie tickets at the “Lowie Gates” movie. I finally got my first run about eleven and came back with a quarter. I was not happy, and theguys were laughing that I picked the poor or cheapskate for my first run. We added up our money and had a dollar and a quarter and it was not even noon. The rest of the day got busier and busier and we reached our goal of ten bucks by three. We were ready to make our first fireworks buy on Sunday.

After the nine o’clock mass on Sunday, we headed up Ralph Ave. to the BMT line at Gates Ave. This time Danny and I knew which side of the station the train for the city would be coming. Tony was impressed. We traveled to the same station as our last adventure to Little Italy and once again just followed all the people as they were getting off at Canal St. China Town is located in the same area as Little Italy and we just looked for the shops that had writing on them that we could not read and looked strange. Now the tricky part would happen; how to find a seller.

According to Tony’s brother, all we had to do was find a souvenir shop and tell them that we wanted to buy fireworks. We saw a shop that had many things that looked like they would have fireworks. Danny went in and asked about the fireworks and we could hear the woman inside getting louder and louder about not selling any fireworks. She was pointing towards the door and by this time yelling, “You get out, no fireworks here.” Danny came out looking confused and we walked down the street to figure out what just happened. Standing on the corner trying to decide our next move, this Italian guy walked up to us and asked, “ What are you doing here?” We told him we were looking to buy fireworks and about the Chinese woman who started yelling at us. The guy told us not to worry about the woman and that he had fireworks. “How much money you got?”

Telling a stranger how much money you had with you is not something you did in any city, but in New York, you never, never told a guy you just met that you even had money, never mind how much!!!! The only reason we told this guy exactly how much money we had with us, had to do with his two friends who came up just at the right moment. The guy’s friends were bigger than he was and looked mean. We were told to empty our pockets and hand over what we had; the total came to eight bucks and seventy cents. We were told to wait there and not walk around China Town. After the three big guys left, Tony said that he wanted to go home, Danny and I wanted to wait and see what would happen. About ten minutes later the guy came back with a brown paper bag and told us not to look in the bag until we were out of the neighborhood. Once we got out of China Town and were going back to the train we all looked in the bag. There was a package wrapped in blue tissue paper and in that package were eighty packs of firecrackers. There were also seven loose packs, we had hit pay dirt. We could not believe our eyes, we did everything wrong and came out “Smelling like a rose.”

We ran to the train station, couldn’t wait to tell our friends what happened in China Town. Tony was the first one to realize that we had given all our money to the big guys and now had no money to get on the train. I looked down at my loafers and my lucky nickels and knew I was going to get on, but what about Danny and Tony? Tony had zero money, but Danny had that grin on his face and said, “I have a quarter in my shoe, it fell there by accident”. Tony and I looked at each other and remembered that when we first counted the money at Food Fair we thought we had lost a quarter or miscounted. Danny pulled off his shoe and removed his sock, the quarter looked shiny like it had been rubbed for two days. We just looked at Danny and laughed; we had the money to get on the train. On the way back to Brooklyn Tony told us that his brother might have told one or two other guys that we were going to be selling fireworks. None of us realized what that statement really meant until we got off the train station, walked along Ralph Ave., and came to Hancock St. Mike, Frank, and four other guys we did not know met us and wanted to buy firecrackers. Our first sale and we made double our money, sold twenty packs for four bucks. We didn’t get to Howard Ave. before Tony’s brother came up and bought ten packs for two dollars and fifty cents. By the time we got to our house, we only had twenty-seven packs of firecrackers left. We had made fourteen dollars and still had almost thirty packs of firecrackers left. Down in the basement we decided that we would raise the price again to thirty cents a pack and see what happened.

When we got to school on Monday the word was out and we were the most popular kids this side of the East River. Kids we didn’t know were asking us to buy them fireworks, not just firecrackers, but roman candles, torpedoes, cherry bombs and other stuff that we had never even heard of. I said to Danny and