brooklyn with danny and joe

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.