I am sitting here in the comfort of my
beautiful air conditioned home, and despite all the wonderful amenities
of our modern age, my mind travels back to a more innocent time
in childhood, during those hot, sweltering Newark summer nights,
in my humble little abode, located at 321 Belmont Avenue, Apartment
#1, first floor.
It was a time of neighborly congeniality, when most all of our
neighbors considered it a blessing, just to have the comfort of
a familiar window box fan, if that at all. If one was truly fortunate,
the convenience of a round floor fan, which sat usually in the middle
of the living room, or the "parlor", as it was referred to, was
an added luxury.
I will never forget the cacophony of the whirling, noisy sounds
of those box fans, joined in chorus with the floor fans. With any
luck, one might also acquire an oscillating table fan, usually a
G. E. or Westinghouse brand. I can recall many summer afternoons,
sitting at our enamel- topped, wooden kitchen table, (one which
had an intact silverware drawer set square in the middle of it),
reading my latest comic book, while enjoying the breeze of that
singular electric fan. For amusement, or out of boredom, I can recall
following the oscillations of the fan,with my eyes, (counting how
many a minute), and "singing" directly into the fan, especially
the box window fan, to enjoy the "sound" of my voice, caused by
the direct vibrations of the fan! After that, a sheet of paper could
be placed on the reverse side of the fan, to see how it would adhere.
By this time, along would come mother, to caution or rather chastise
me for fooling with the fan. Usually, the cautionary admonition
would follow, about getting your fingers or tongue amputated by
the whirling blades of the fan, "so stop it right NOW!"
On an especially hot day, there was mother's delicious home-made
lemonade to enjoy. None of that sickeningly and artificially sweet
stuff that is on the market today! I can recall yet today, the delightful
and refreshing coolness of the taste of that lemonade...none can
compare today. Mother would usually allow me to help her make the
lemonade, by hand squeezing the lemons on top of that familiar glass
dish, (one that was shaped by the conical glass in the middle, with
reserve channels along the inside, to contain the juice of the lemon
or orange, and the cup ring on its outside, to hold on to the glass
dish, while squeezing the fruit and its pulp.) Mother would then
take the reserved lemon skins, and add that also. I recall the beautiful,
wet streaks on the drinking glass, as mother added the lemonade
into a large drinking glass, filled with yet more ice cubes. I would
always delight to free the ice cubes from the metal trays, by raising
the lever, which kept the cubes in place in the tray. I would always
be the first one honored to "taste" the lemonade for its sweetness
or its tartness, and that would also make me feel special. These
were some of the simple pleasures of growing up in Newark during
the long summer breaks from school.
Around once a week, in the heat of those torrid afternoons, the
"merry-go-round" man would arrive, to break the monotony of an urban
summer day. His was a truck mounted amusement ride, also another
similar one which was called "the whip", and also a very popular
and welcome diversion for us Newark kids. For fifteen cents, or
two rides for a quarter, children could experience a simple little
pleasure, which only a bus trip and visit to Olympic Park could
surpass. Going to Olympic Park, riding the #56 public transportation
bus from the bus stop at the intersections of Avon and Belmont Avenues,
was the ultimate thrill that a city kid could hope for on a lazy
summer day, or summer weekend. What could be more exciting than
a day at Olympic Park swimming pool, for the grand entry price of
fifty cents? One would be issued an elastic band bracelet containing
a metal tag, which bore the number of the locker in which one's
clothing was stored. Leaving the pool, you would enter the locker
area and call out "Locker Girl,(locker boy), number.....," and the
locker room attendant would come with some type of master key, enabling
one to retrieve their street clothing.
Nights at Olympic Park were the ultimate. Games of chance and the
flashing and bright neon lights of both rides and concessions were
extremely alluring in the eyes of children and adults alike. I recall
the excitement of the many game concessions, with their spinning
wheels of fortune, and later the counter mounted flashing numbers
and lights, which the patron would only hope their dime would become
the winning number. Hopefully, they would become the instant winners
of dolls, radios, lamps, clocks, teddy bears, and whatever fancy
drew a busy crowd to those games of chance. I think the beginning
of the end for Olympic Park began with the banning of those games,
for it was viewed as gambling, at a later date in time. The games
were true crowd pleasers, and even insignificant consolation prizes
were occasionally awarded at times, making everyone at least somewhat
complacent or at least partially satisfied. Everyone left those
games of chance with a "better luck next time" attitude, yet having
enjoyed themselves tremendously, despite their evening's "unlucky
streak." Our home was filled with countless trophies won at Olympic
Park. Mother always swore the number 8 was the magical "ticket"
for winning our many household treasures! And then again, there
were the times when my dad could have purchased a doll for me, for
much less than what he lost at those game stands! (I guess it was
my child's tears, which spurred him on in the hopes of winning a
prize for me!) It was mother who always consoled me, and tempered
common sense to have dad stop putting down all those dimes.
There was even a daily live circus performance at Olympic Park,
twice a day, at 1 P.M., and and at 4 P.M. >From high wire acts,
trapeze performers to lion tamers, it was all there, all included
in that single admission price to the park. Joe Basile, Jr. provided
the very lively circus music, which accompanied all the acts. My
family usually stayed at the swimming pool until 4 P.M., and from
there, it was straight over to enjoy the circus acts, before finishing
the evening with the thrilling rides and the games of chance previously
outlined. I especially enjoyed the beautiful carousel, now located
in Disney World, in Orlando, Florida, yes, the one and the same
from dear old Olympic Park!
Another special memory is the fun mirrors near the picnic/beer garden
area of Olympic Park. What a thrill to view myself as taller, stouter,
thinner, and much, much shorter, as the distortions of these mirrors
made all of this possible. In this area of the park, in a multi-colored
lit bandshell/gazebo, the exciting strains of Joe Basile, Jr., entertained
the surrounding picnickers, while they enjoyed food, along with
the draught beer on tap, which could be purchased in this section
of the park. As to Joe Basile, Jr., he was also featured on the
afternoon Saturday television program called "The Big Top",
which was a circus performing program. I recall that the air raid
sirens held every Saturday in Newark, exactly at noon, were the
signal in our home to put the television program on for this event,
and there was Joe, providing the same kind of music enjoyed at Olympic
Park!
On hot summer evenings, while our parents enjoyed the latest round
of neighborhood gossip seated on the brick "stoop" of
the apartment building, we children amused ourselves by catching
fireflies in mayonnaise jars, holes punched in the lids, trying
to out vie one another by trapping the greatest number of fireflies.
There was always "heartbreak" and great disappointment,
following an evening of firefly hunting, when mothers said trophies
could definitely NOT be brought into the house! What sadness and
pain to release the evening's catch!! Children also amused themselves
with games of One-Two-Three Giant Step, Red Light, Tag, jump rope,
(especially "Double Dutch"!), jacks, and showing off our
penny "punks", which were thin, long wooden sticks,coated
with an aromatic type incense, which, when lit by a match (our parents
lighting them), would allegedly ward off the evening mosquitoes
and other flying insect pests. I can still recall the aroma and
spiraling smoke made by those punks, to this very day! It was akin
to a fireplace wood burning odor, which one experiences in autumn,
just as the crispness in the air announces the changing seasons.
While our parents smoked cigarettes such as Raleighs, Pall Malls,
Chesterfields, Lucky Strike,(think Lucille Ball and Desi's program
sponsors), and Camels, we would play" pretend" cigarettes,
with those sweet, chalk-like candy cigarettes, bought in a cigarette
box-like pack at the corner candy store, five to the pack, in emulation
of our parents. I recall that Raleigh's was a favorite brand of
cigarettes for the parents, because for a number of premiums garnered
from each pack and carton, any number of "prizes" could
be sent for and obtained. I can recall the parents discussing what
prizes they relished, and how many premiums were needed to obtain
the object of their desire. In a sense, the Raleigh premiums were
the forerunner of the green stamps later given out at the early
supermarket chains, which were collected in books for this purpose,
to be redeemed for merchandise later, as well. I believe it was
the Acme Supermarket, Clinton Avenue, near Lincoln Park, which first
offered the redemption stamps, which were called "Merchants'
Green Stamps." I recall mother diligently pasting said stamps
in a book for later redemption, and occasionally, I was given this
"honor", when mother was busy doing other things of more
importance.
On especially steamy and torrid nights, when even the convenience
of the window box fans did little to prevent the oppression of those
evenings, and sleep was almost impossible during those unbearable
times, mother would fill the old claw footed bath tub with cold
water, for a quick "dip". Feeling much better, cooled
and refreshed, it was back off to bed again, hopefully to enjoy
a more refreshed, peaceful, uninterrupted and restful night of sleep,
for the balance of the night. It was difficult, back in those days,
to overcome the accumulated heat of the summer months, held constant
in the building, clinging and owing to the surrounding construction
of solid brick and steel walls. What relief came with those cool
baths, inviting the sleep back into childrens' eyes!
Occasionally, neighbors also met on such hot evenings on the roof
of the building to share in and enjoy random "potluck"
dinners, discussed, decided upon, and donated by any number of mothers.
July 4th evenings on the roof, were a special thrill, for from the
height of that five story walk-up, the fireworks of Olympic Park
could be viewed in the distance, while families together oohed and
ahhed at the beautiful spectacle of all those colored and cascading
lights. The children were held in rapt attention, as they, too,
witnessed this wonderful event.
During hot afternoons, the roof was also a convenient place for
teenagers and adults to work on the acquisition of a good suntan.
It was the poor man's alternative, in lieu of a Long Branch or Asbury
Park getaway to do so, and we, as children, were naturally prohibited
by our parents from going up to "tar beach". One brought
up a blanket and convenient "tanning lotion", self-concocted
with Johnson's baby oil and iodine, no fancy alternative here, such
as Coppertone or the more costly Revlon Bain de Soleil!
As another summer comes to an end shortly, these are my dearest
memories of summers so long ago, enjoyed in our beautiful City of
Newark. Here's hoping yours was a most enjoyable summer season,
and that you continue to relish these long past memories of those
hot, sweltering Newark summer nights of your own childhood days
as fondly as I do, with the hopes and dreams of yet many more happy
and healthy future summer seasons for one and all!
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