I remember that it was a beautiful spring
day in the Weequahic section of Newark, New Jersey. The sun was
shining and distributing its warmth throughout the city with the
highest temperature being about 76 degrees in downtown Newark. In
the outlying areas it was usually a few degrees cooler and along
with the warmth, a gentle breeze blew through your hair that made
it feel good to be outside. There was a distinct freshness to the
day that was enhanced by the birds singing and fluttering about
from branch to branch on the trees. The squirrels were also out
in force gathering whatever acorns that still fell from the trees.
They seemed to be playing with each other as they ran up and down
the tree trunks in a squirrel’s version of tag, you’re
it!
This particular day was a Saturday because I remember waking in
the late morning to the soft cool breeze that was coming in my bedroom
window from a shaded alley. The year was 1962 and I was about 13
years old in my freshman year of High School. I had a good nights
sleep and proceeded to wash up and get dress for the day. I was
going to go over to my friend’s house up on Hobson Street
via Forest Place and Shaw Avenue. Forest Place ended on Clinton
Place about a block away from where I lived. In all, my friend’s
house was only about three blocks away and I would be there in less
than 15 minutes of walking time. My buddy’s name was Billy
and we both played in a budding rock band together. He was the drummer,
I was the bass player and the kid down the block named Alex was
the guitar player. The music that we were involved with consisted
mainly of the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, the Kinks and the Young
Rascals. But I wasn’t going there today to practice, I was
going over there just to hang out and see my girlfriend Eileen who
was Billy’s younger sister. I spent the better part of the
day playing around with her and conversing with Billy about the
band before I decided to head home for dinner. Acappella singing
was really popular in our high school at that time and I was trying
convince Billy that we should do at least one song Acappella style
or without our instruments. I was over ruled by Billy and Alex in
this case because they didn’t think any of us sang well enough
to do that. I’ll have to admit that they were right and what
the heck, it was only an idea. Still I thought about it at least
part of the way home until something happened to completely take
my attention away from it.
As I was walking home down Shaw Avenue which was actually a small
side street off the main thoroughfare that ran in parallel to Lyons
Avenue. I was deep in thought when I saw my cousin Robert coming
up the same street. I was surprised to see him here because I walked
this way almost everyday and never saw him on this street. I greeted
him with a smile and fond hello because he was one of my younger
cousins and we had done a lot of things together but his mood was
very serious today. I asked him what was he up to and his reply
was “I’m looking for a tree to blow up.” “What?”
I said. A little perplexed at his response. “I got this stick
of “dynamite” that I made and I want to find a tree
to blow up.” He repeats for me and pulls out this 12”
long by 1” diameter cylinder object that looked like it was
made from some kind of pressed cardboard. It had a short 6”
fuse sticking out of one end of it and looked completely far out
wild. Well, I was speechless for a moment with my mouth hanging
open wide when I saw this thing. Rob had told me a couple of weeks
ago that he had contacted a company that was very willing to send
powdered chemicals out to people that wanted to make their own small
fireworks but this was no small firework, this was a serious piece
of explosive that my cousin had built! Indeed, it looked like a
stick of “dynamite!” and I was really concerned because
I knew that he could get really hurt even though he and I had set
off hundreds of fireworks in our young lives at the Chinese New
Years celebration in New York City’s Chinatown down on Mott
Street. I finally convinced him not to blow up a tree and instead,
to crack it open and ignite it like a sparkler. This way it would
be nothing more than a big display of powder burning that would
give us a thrill. He reluctantly agreed and I cracked it open very
quickly so that he had no time to change his mind. I made a small
trail of powder leading to the powder in each half of the stick
to act as a fuse. It was lying on the ground in a “V”
configuration like we had done with so many other firecrackers that
we made sparklers out of. I remember feeling a little proud of myself
that I had done my duty as an elder cousin and saved my younger
cousin from any harm or trouble that he would have incurred by blowing
up a tree!!! The one thing that he had neglected to tell me until
afterwards was that the powder he used in his stick of “dynamite”
was of the fast burning type and as I lit the powder, it burned
so fast that my natural instinct to get as far away from this thing
as possible was defeated by an almost instantaneous BOOM!!! I actually
felt the air pressure from the explosion pushing me backwards! There
was no fun visual display of powder burning from the open ends of
the split tubing just an instantaneous and loud BOOM!!! Once we
recovered from this startling explosion we realized that we needed
to get out of there before anyone came out of their house to investigate
what the heck that loud noise was that they had just heard. There
were no remnants of the casing, it was completely gone. All that
remained was the burn mark on the cement where I had ignited the
powder and so we turned and ran.
So there we were running down Shaw Avenue in shock like banshees
out of hell. Just as we rounded the bend onto Forest Place, my cousin
turns and looks at me in amazement. He says “Oh Wow! Your
eyebrows and the front of your hair are all white!” It looked
like my hair had gotten singed in certain areas too! In addition
to his observations, my ears were ringing like church bells on a
Sunday afternoon! But despite all of this, we kept on running as
I looked at my hands to see if they were alright and then checked
myself and my clothes to see if I had any burn marks or other injuries.
When I was satisfied that I had sustained no other injuries, I finally
turned and asked him “What the hell kind of powder was in
that thing!” and that’s when he told me that it was
“Special fast burning powder” To which I replied “Gee,
thanks for telling me” but I don’t think he caught the
sarcasm of my comment. We ran until we got to my house and I manage
to get into the house without my parents seeing me. I went into
the bathroom and washed the blast residue off my hair and eyebrows
as I washed my face. I took a scissors to the singed hair and cut
it back until I looked normal again. When my looks were finally
repaired to my satisfaction, I came outside to talk with my cousin
but to my surprise he had already gone home a couple of blocks away.
Typical Robert, I promised myself that day that I would never again
set off anything like that with him until he told me everything
there was to know about the device! No more Mr. Good cousin for
me!
In case you’re wondering, yes, this is a true story and
when I told it to a mixed group of people that consisted of friends
and family many years later after this incident occurred, they laughed
heartily at our youthful foolishness. I still laugh today when I
think of it. But I am thankful that I’m still around to tell
the story!
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