I must have been maybe approximately two years of age when my "father" passed away. I can conjure no recollections of having known him at all...my only solace, to know him, is a picture of his "handsome face" on his tombstone. He passed away at the early age of twenty-eight-- too short a time on earth to enjoy any of the "fruits of life".

My mother, Ida, then took my sister Gladys, approximately one and a half years older than I, and we three moved into live with my grandmother (Bessie and Louis Watin) and her family of five kids.

If memory serves me right, I believe it was a two bedroom, sixth floor, walk up tenement on Moshula Parkway, in the Bronx, off Crotona Park. One bathroom for ten people, from approximately age one to fifty years of age.

Tragedy struck soon, as my sister (Gladys, age three) fell off the dining room table and severely injured her spine. They rushed Gladys to a hospital emergency room, and operated on her back. They then fitted her with a "brace" which covered her from the chest to the hips and Mama had to carry her this way to the hospital every few weeks for a check-up. It seemed to me like this went on for many years-- transportation-- to and from the "clinic" was by streetcar and elevated train (cabs and cars- only the rich could afford them).

All her life, my mother had a weak heart, and was treated for it (who could stand such strain and tragedy and not end up with a weak heart?)

Grandma took care of us while Mama worked at odd jobs, so that she could pay for her food and board. She was a very proud woman and I feel that she was closer to her mother than any of the other sisters and brothers, perhaps problems and tragedy drew them that close.

The same closeness grew between the sisters and brother, especially Mama, Lilit, Fannie, Ruth, Sally, Selma, Irving, Henry and Sadie, who passed away at the age of 18.

Mama was the one in the family that everyone loved, cherished and wanted to help, especially to help my sister Gladys and I.

The closeness between my mother and all her sisters and brothers continued during her entire lifetime. And when Grandma passed away Mama’s house, became the headquarter of the family get togethers.

Mama’s life was one of continued hardship, always short of money to pay the rent or feed the family. My stepfather could not seem to make ends meet and many a time I remember Mama borrowing money for rent or food from Aunt Ruth and Aunt Sally. Many a time I would go for the envelope to see Aunt Ruth in her office, a block away from where I worked in my teens, and always, sweet Aunt Ruth would slip me some change. What a lift that gave me in those days when pennies were important.

But that’s jumping the history, so let’s pick it up later.

When my father got sick, they put him in the hospital. My mother was in the same hospital with a heart attack, and as Grandma tells the story to Bunny ( my wife) she visited my father one day, and he knew or felt that he would not make it, and he made Grandma, his mother-in-law promise that she would never put his children, my sister and I, in an orphanage.

What brought this up was the fact that with both my parents in the hospital, we were temporarily staying at Grandma’s, and she had said to him "Don’t worry about the children, I will take care of them."

He passed away shortly afterward, and when Mama got out of the hospital, we all moved into Grandma’s apartment.

Grandma made a deal with the owner of the building that if she would take care of the furnace for heating and hot water for this six-story apartment-- four apartments on a floor, and keep the halls clean of refuse, mop all the floors and stairways, then she could stay for free.

Grandma went for the deal. Can you in this day picture a woman doing that and at the same time bringing up five children, plus her widowed daughter and two kids?!

Soon afterward, approximately eight months later, Grandpa Watin passed away, and all I can remember is a bearded man wearing a yalmuke all the time.

Grandma, God bless her, then took over the running of the family-- and what a job she did!

Her love, and affection, her warmth and honesty of purpose, her teaching to all us kids, of right from wrong, coupled with a strength of will and determination, to not only her family but other poor Jewish immigrants left a lasting impression on my mind. Grandma was dedicated to helping other Jewish immigrants get started in "America".

In those days, there were no immigrant quotas, and the ships from Europe dropped them off at Ellis Island by the thousands and they moved to the Lower East Side of New York.

All they had pinned to their lapel or dress was the name of a "Jewish Society" on the Lower East Side, and these were like the masons. They were dedicated to finding homes for the poor Jewish immigrant, and helping them to get started in the new world, over the period of late 1890 to 1920.

Grandma Watin with her big family and no husband, plus her seven kids, was a very powerful force in helping immigrants get started.

She was highly regarded as one of the most ardent and hardest workers in the "society". A great friend of the "society" was Mrs. Guggenheim of the wealthy Guggenheim family. I clearly remember being taken by Grandma to the Guggenheim estate in White Plains, New York many a time, and being permitted to romp through the gardens of flowers and statues and magnificent grounds while Grandma talked with Mrs. G., about her pet projects to help the poor.

Getting back to when we moved into Grandma’s apartment. There were five kids at home:

Ages of Aunts and Uncles when we moved into Grandma Watin home

Five kids at home:

Selma 3 yrs. old (now 67)

Lily 8 yrs. old (now 72)

Irving 9 yrs. old (now 73)

Sadie 11 yrs. old-- (deceased at 18)

Ruth 13 yrs. old (now 77)

Married members of the family:

Sally- married- living in Long Beach- 18 yrs. old

Henry- married- living on the West Side of the Bronx- 20 yrs. old

Fannie- married- living in the Bronx- age 25

Mama- married- aged 22- widowed with two kids

My Aunt Selma, approximately one year older than I and about the same age as sister Gladys.

My Aunt Sadie, in her teens who unfortunately was a mental case, but in those years, nobody ever heard or knew what a psychiatrist was, so she was treated like the rest of us kids and about five years later, at the age of 18, she passed away.

My Aunt Lily, a couple years younger.

My Aunt Ruth, sweet, lovable, kind, thoughtful, a big help to Grandma all her life. She was one of my two favorite aunts, who I will never forget, and all pleasant memories.

My favorite Uncle Irving, a sweet, warm-hearted person, a great individual, who always gave of himself. He had "Grandma’s nature" and was very close to my mother all her life. He never made a name for himself in the business world, but that was unimportant, as a humane and understanding person, he was my idol.

The married members of the family:

Aunt Sally who lived in Long Beach, N.Y. whose husband was the "Fire Chief" and also a broker on Wall Street. She also was close to my mother all her life, and helped her out financially until we kids got out of school and went to work. She had Grandma’s nature also and she would invite us kids out for the summer vacation at Long Beach, as she had a large house there with plenty of bedrooms, and an attic. There was so much company, that we kids used to sleep in the attic, which was hot as hell and many a night we slept on the porch outside the attic, because of the unbearable heat (air conditioning, who heard of it in the late teens and early twenties!).

My Aunt Fannie, who was married, and had three kids (Lucille, Jerry and Herbert) and her hubby Bill, who had a cigar and cigarette stand in the 1385 Broadway Building in Manhattan. he made a wonderful living and Aunt Fannie was obsessed with education and learning so she instilled in her kids that they must go to College, and all three made it.

Looking back, I admire her immensely, because she had the foresight to understand the importance of a college education, and it paid off for her and her kids.

Uncle Henry was married to the most beautiful woman I had seen-- Aunt Sue. She should have been a movie star. They had a son, Larry, upon who they lavished all their attention, and spoiled badly.

Uncle Henry was a traveling salesman in ready-to-wear, and loved it. He was away about 40 weeks out of the year, and he couldn’t understand as the years went by, why his wife was unhappy. He was never home, but he earned a good living and had an apartment on the Grand Concourse area of Manhattan, which was the place to live for Jewish families that could afford the rent in the new, tall apartment buildings that were built after World War 1.

This was the wonderful family that my sister and I came to know and love, cherish and respect.

We lived with Grandma for three to four years, and I cherish each memory of her love and affection, and from those aunts and uncles who were like her in character such as Irving, Ruth, Sally, Selma, Lily, and my loving mother.

My public school was P.S. #4, opposite Crotona Park, a couple of blocks away from where we lived and that’s where I played after school. I can vividly remember an incident or two that happened. Once we had a rock throwing fight with other kids and I came home with a badly bleeding head from a solid hit from a rock. Grandma and Mama were beside themselves with worry that I would bleed to death-- and they fussed over me until they stopped the bleeding.

From what I was told, I was a beautiful boy, and everyone thought I was an angel, but I was a terror-- very daring, afraid of nothing, and would do things that put plenty of "gray hair" on Mama’s and Grandma’s heads.

At the age of three, I wandered off, got tired and they found me hours and hours later, asleep on a coal pile in the basement tenement-- dirty, filthy from the coal, sleeping peacefully.

I remember living at Grandma’s, playing in the courtyard, approximately three or four years of age, on a hot, summer day, getting all sweated up and yelling at the top of my lungs, "Grandma, Grandma, Grandma… throw me down a glass of water...Grandma, Grandma..." And not being able to understand why she could not accommodate me?! And Grandma would look down from her 6th floor kitchen window at her brilliant three year old grandson and wonder what was going on?

Another time, I was flying a kite on the roof of our six-story tenement building. Along the roof’s edge was a barrier four feet high to protect anyone who came up there from falling off. This was about eighteen inches wide, and I was flying my kite, running along this narrow parapet, and not thinking that I could fall off to the pavement and get killed.

Those were the days of my early childhood, living in the Bronx, poor, but very happy with just playing and enjoying a kid’s delight in every day.

I remember asking Mama or Grandma for 2 cents so I could go the corner candy store and buy penny candy, or waiting expectantly for Saturday to roll around so we could go to the movies. Mama or Grandma would pack lunch for us three kids (me, Sister Gladys and Aunt Selma), and if we got there before eleven in the morning admission cost five cents for two people. In those days it was called the "Nickelodeon". We saw all the best of the silent movies. A piano player sat at the foot of the screen, and played music to set the mood of the picture. The "Our Gang" comedy series, a kid’s delight and Fatty Arbuckle-- a real funny man.

Washington Street from Moshula Parkway north two blocks was teeming with push-carts and filled with every type of food imaginable as well as wearing apparel, shoes, belts, buckles. You name it, they had it. It was exciting just walking this two block area to hear the haggling for a better price-- nobody in that area paid the asking price. It was bargain, bargain, bargain, until you made a deal and walked off with the merchandise, be it food or clothing.

The twenty-five cent gas meter in Grandma’s apartment- many a conversations I overhead between Grandma and Mama that the meter was running out, and they had better make sure to have a quarter to put in or else no cooking or light in the apartment.

Those were the days of my early childhood, living in the Bronx, poor but very happy with just playing and enjoying a "kid’s" delight in every day.

*Asking Mama or Grandma for 2 cents so I could go the corner candy store and buy penny candy.

*Waiting expectantly for Saturday to roll around so we could go to the movies. Mama and Grandma would pack lunch for us three kids (sister Gladys, Aunt Selma and me) and before 11:00 a.m., it was 2 for 5 cents. In those days, it was called the "Nickelodeon", 5 cents to get in.

We saw all the best of the silent movies-- a piano player sat at the foot of the screen, and played music, to set the mood, of the picture... For a Western, it would be wild, fast music...if a love story, it would be sentimental music. Every Saturday was "serial day", another episode, which if it was a Western, which I loved, it would end with the hero Tom Mix being tied in the fire and the Indians ready to put him to death...(end of serial)...couldn’t wait for next Saturday so that we could see if he was killed or not (the suspense was awful).

Or -- the serial "Pearls of Pauline", she was always in danger, at the end, and always caught by the villain, and being tortured (would she be saved?--see next Saturday what happens-- and the piano player would go wild in his music to capture the mood, and we kids would be at the edge of our chairs-- yelling-- screaming-- hollering for her to be saved...Wow!

Rudolph Valentine-- the great lover playing us "NaziMova"-- I couldn’t stand these "love" pictures, at that age, but we stayed from 11:00am to 6:00pm, and saw the same movies 2 and 3 times-- sometimes my mother came to get us, and couldn’t understand why we had to see the show so many times.

The movies of those days, starred Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Mary Pickford and so many others.

My aunts and uncles and their friends, made a great fuss over Gladys and I, because we were so young, and naturally, not having any "father" and loving and caring for my mother-- we were the apple of their affection-- and that filled the void, and no male parent, as I do not, and cannot recall my father at all...I was too young, when he passed away.

We lived with Grandma for a couple wonderful years and Mama married again, a man with 3 children and we moved into our own apartment about 10 blocks away, on 174th Street and Park Ave, also in the Bronx.

Louis Feldman, my stepfather was a hard-working man, whose ambition in life was to own a laundry, and drive an expensive car.

All his life, he struggled to make ends meet, and could never make it.

I don’t even remember, one word of love or affection, or a showing of same in all the years, until he passed away in 1944.

As head of the household, now that I look back, the problems always fell on my mother.

It was a marriage of needs-- he needed someone to take care of his 3 children, Rae, Jack and Minnie. And my mother needed someone to support her two children, Gladys and I.

He gave me nothing upon which to create a future life...and likewise to his own children...whatever we had, was what my mother, Grandma and family taught us--

I can vividly remember, at the age of 8, being awakened about 6am, and being told that a mid-wife had just helped my mother give birth to a baby girl-- my sister Lucille-- there were no telephones, and I ran the 10 blocks, and pounded on the door of my grandma’s apartment, yelling "Mama gave birth to a Girl!", waking up not only their household, but everybody else on the floor.

My sister Lucille, I really cherish her--and love her dearly, as I was her older brother, and I saw her grow up--and get married to one of the sweetest guys I know--my brother-in-law Murray (we were like brothers and rightfully so).

A year or two, after my sister Lucille was born, my parents decided to move to Brooklyn-- Williamsburg section-- just off the bridge—Pop’s parents owned a 3 story brownstone house on 83 Rodney Street. The only house in all of Williamsburg, that had a tree in its 8x10 courtyard entrance.

The arrangement was that we were to occupy the basement apartment, and parlor floor, where the bedrooms were situated-- plus an immense parlor room.

Downstairs, held a large dining room, kitchen, large entrance hallway, and a cubicle off the kitchen, that Mama was able to put a double bed into, and my brother Jack and I slept there-- while the 3 girls shared the 2 bedrooms, and my parents slept in the one on the same floor.

Also as part of the arrangement, we were to heat the house, by stoking the furnace with coal, so each morning, Pop had to feed the furnace, and during the day Mama, Jack or I, shoveled coal into the fire, or else no heat or hot water was attained.

I must tell you about our kitchen and bathroom. In order to cook, the kitchen had an old fashioned iron stove, with 4 round lids, to be lifted off, and coal poured into flames to heat up the house. And on hot summer days, that kitchen was as hot as blazes, and Jack and I sleeping in the alcove off the kitchen, used to sweat like hell and there was no window, where we were.

The bathroom, which had an old fashioned tub, on legs, (no shower in those days) had no heat, as it was an afterthought that was built later, (remember this was the basement, made into an apartment) and where we kids were bathing, every Saturday night, it was like the "Alaskan wild" -so cold you could die.

When you went to the "john" in the winter time, it was a "shock" just to sit on the "ice cold" toilet seat.

Pops and "Zada" were old fashioned, very Orthodox Jews, as was my mother and Grandma.

In addition, "Zada" was the rabbi of a synagogue on the Lower East Side, and every Friday night and Saturday morning, being a highly religious "Jew", he would walk from where we lived, over the Williamsburg bridge, to his temple on Houston Street on the Lower East Side, in order to lead his congregation in prayer.

Moving to Brooklyn, at that age, was a very traumatic experience for my sister Gladys and I, because it meant leaving Grandma, and our aunts and uncles behind.

Not a day went by that we didn’t see Grandma, and the family, and we could not understand the reason for the move--later, much later on in life, I would understand the financial need for such a move.

Each Friday, when we came home from school, there was a battle between Gladys and I as to who would visit Grandma, for the weekend.

Eventually we solved the problem-- one weekend Gladys went, and I the other-- our love and affection for Grandma and the aunts and uncles was so great that at that age, we felt that we could not live, unless we could see them, at least once a week.

On our visits, I recall, we received so much attention, that we couldn’t wait to go back again the following week. Grandma baked special cakes for us...bathed us, mended any clothes that needed care...Aunt Ruth and Uncle Irving, gave me change, almost every day, and in those days, a nickel to a quarter, was an immense gift.

I was a bit past 9 years of ages, and in order to visit Grandma’s house, I had to walk across the Williamsburg Bridge to the Lower East Side, then walk approximately 6 blocks down Delancey Street: to the 3rd Avenue El train.

Pay my nickel fare and take the elevated train to 149th Street and then with my transfer, change trains, and take the East Side Bronx train and get off at the Claremont Parkway Station.

The entire train ride was on raised elevated tracks and I would stand up front, looking out the front door window, the motorman was on my right in "cab" running the train, and I always pictured myself as being the "motorman" driving the train-- because we were both seeing the road ahead.

Mama would "pin" a note of direction on my lapel, as well as my name and address, so that I shouldn’t get lost--and there was great rejoicing when I arrived at Grandma’s house-- maybe 3 to 4 hours later.

I always knew how hard my mother and Grandma worked to keep us "kids" well fed, and clean, and can remember, many, many a time, alone with them both and telling them, that when I grow up "I will take care of them". I was able to do that, with my mother, but not with Grandma, as she passed away in 1943, and I was only making $75.00 a week, and was married with two children, of my own.

Back to our house in Brooklyn, my mother enrolled us 5 kids, into P.S. 16, on Wilson Street, off Bedford Avenue. I was enrolled as Martin Feldman, my stepfather’s name. He never legally adopted Gladys and I, and it was the only name I ever heard used. Many years later, I believe I was in my late 30Õs living in Chicago, I went to City Hall and legally changed my name from "Mishkis" to "Feldman".

We were so poor that an education, further than Public School, was never a topic for discussion-- only topic was, as soon as you finished P.S., you would go to "work".

Right after we moved to Brooklyn, I got a job. I was about 10 years old, and the grocery store down the block needed someone to sweep up and deliver breakfast food to their customers. I reported in the morning and worked till 8:30 a.m. six days a week for 50 cents a week.

After school, I worked at the Mennen’s Drug Store on the corner, doing odd jobs, and delivering pharmaceutical supplies or prescriptions to customers in the area. My pay was $2.00 a week and all the sodas I could drink and all the candy I could eat. "Mason’s" chocolate covered coconut candy, was my favorite, plus Hershey bars, with nuts- each 5 cents. Well, I worked there a couple of years, and ate so many "Mason" coconut bars, that for many years, I could not even smell one, without wanting to throw-up.

But it gave me pocket money, which my mother didn’t have to give, and my aunts and uncles were not around every day, anymore, so I had to get money somewhere- I didn’t mind-- I enjoyed it, just hated to get up so early in the A.M. for the grocery job-- eventually I gave it up.

My sister Rae graduated P.S. 16, and got an office job.

My brother Jack graduated and Pop had a nice uncle, who owned a steel plant in Brooklyn, so he gave him a job in the shipping room and he worked there his entire life, and became head of the department. Jack must have worked there over 40 years, or until the "sons" closed the plant.

Sister Minnie graduated P.S. 16 and went to work in the office of Uncle Barney’s steel plant.

All of us followed the same pattern-- public school graduate and then to work.

Pop wanted to own his own hand laundry, so when we moved to Brooklyn, Mama borrowed money from her sisters, Ruth and Sally and from Grandma-- and Pop borrowed from his family and he opened his own "hand laundry".

My Step-Grandfather, the rabbi, taught me my "Hebrew", and in Russia, he lost his entire left hand, at the wrist, while farming one day-- and, boy, that left arm of his was a powerful weapon. I remember him constantly jabbing me, every time I would make a mistake, while he was teaching me my Hebrew lessons. But he was good, and I have no regrets-- but I remember-- those "pokes" I received!!!

The neighborhood we moved into was a gentile area, and on our block, maybe we had half a dozen Jewish families-- so I had to be careful when I went out for a walk, as a half block away was Wythe Avenue, and that’s where the "Wythe Avenue Gang" hung out. A Jewish kid, walking alone was a target-- which I found out about real fast-- (one had to run, and that I could do), so, I was pretty good and careful, after a few episodes that I went through as a kid. I was an excellent athlete, and good at the "punchball" played on the streets of the city (the most played sport, at that time). And being very good at it, I was in every game, and always chosen when we played-- this was the #1 sport besides handball.

About a block away from where we lived was a "peanut factory", so, after we finished a game of punchball- played under the rules of baseball- on a late Saturday or Sunday, we would scale the outside fence of the Indian Peanut Factory, slide up a window-- go inside, and fill our pockets with "peanuts". We were all kids in the 10-12 age range and excited, after the ball game, and didn’t think we were doing anything wrong, by filling our pockets full of peanuts-- which we could buy in the candy store, by putting a penny into the slot, and out would come 20 or 30 peanuts from the oval jar. But, to our surprise, one Saturday afternoon, while we were inside filling out pockets with Indian nuts-- in came a couple of "cops" and I got caught-- the "cop" scared the crap out of me, said he was going to put me in jail, and wanted to know where I lived so he walked me to my house, which was a block away-- rang the bell and when my mother opened the door, he told her that I had broken into the peanut factory and was "stealing peanuts".

By this time, remember, I was only about 10 or 11 years old, and the cop says to my mother, "What shall I do with him--should I put him in jail?" My mother says, "Yes-- definitely--put him in jail!" And there I was-- bawling like the devil-- crying like there was no tomorrow. "Please, please—Don’t put me in jail. I’ll never, never steal again-- Mama, Mama, Please, please don’t let them put me in jail!!!!"

I can still remember this episode in my life; I was scared to death. I really thought the cop was going to take me to the "police station", and put me in jail.

(P.S. I was never put in jail!)

About once a month, as a family, we would drive to Grandma’s house in the Bronx, and we would always drive through Manhattan-- up 5th Avenue-- the most important business street in the city-- and immature as I was--- I hoped that we would have a flat tire, so that I could take a walk on 5th Avenue. Little did I imagine, in my young years, that one day I would work in a store on 5th Avenue and 39th Street.

We were poor, but we or I didn’t know it. So, life was beautiful as money was scarce and as young as I was, I did not miss what I did not have.

At age 14, after graduating from P.S. 16 on Wilson Ave-- I went right to work at $12.00 per week in NYC

I was thrilled to death to be working, and gave my mother $8.00 each week, and had $4.00 for myself.

Everyone in the family went to work after public school. The girls took up shorthand and stenography so that they could get secretarial jobs.

I must tell you about the "kids" I grew up with, remember this was 1920-1925, when we moved to Brooklyn, there were about half a dozen of us, between the ages of 10-12, and we were as thick as "flies".

"Red", my best friend, my age, passed away 6 months ago (1997). "Al" almost just as close-- wound up an actor. "Mike", the Yeshiva student, whose father was a rabbi, and if you owed him a nickel or a dime, he would not accept payment Friday after sundown or on Saturday all day- we used to tease him on those days and offer payment. "Gene" the best poker player, when we grew into our teens. "Crazo Harris"- slightly off his rocker-- his father had a tailor shop on 44th Street between 6th and 7th Ave in Manhattan-- and he would deliver the finished clothing to the actors and actresses that worked in the theater district and would steal anything and everything, he could lay his hands on. Our sports equipment was the best--you know why? -- Because he stole baseball gloves from the Yankee’s ballpark-- tennis balls from tennis courts... and the pay-off, was one day he stole a bicycle, from the

6-Day Races of Madison Square Garden--naturally-- he wound up in "Sing Sing prison" later in life.

Memories of my Aunts and Uncles:

Aunt Ruth

She worked on 40th Street and 5th Avenue in New York City. I, on 39th Street and 5th Avenue, at Jay-Cobbs, a ladies’ specialty store. So, I would walk over to her office, during lunch hour, I was about 15 years old-- to see her-- we would talk for a little while and then every time I would leave, I would get a big hug and kiss, and she would give me a "half-dollar".

Boy, that was a treat-- cause now I could buy a Hershey bar and a phosphate chocolate drink (7 cents), and a hot dog for a dime and other goodies as well.

Uncle Henry

He gave me my first job- 12 years old during the summer time and I would do errands for him. He was a ready-to-wear salesman-- and he bought me my first long pantsuit at Crawford’s Men’s and Boys Store on Broadway and 36th Street, opposite Macys Department Store. It was my Bar Mitzvah suit. He also arranged and set me up for my 1st job, after public school, as a shipping clerk for the International Millinery Company on 16 East 40th Street in NYC. I was just past my 14th birthday. Uncle Irving-- he was my favorite Uncle, about 7 years older than I was, and I idolized him-- in those years-- and also later in life. He always gave me dollar or two whenever he saw me. He was always out of work or changing jobs-- Grandma was always pushing him to get a decent job and make something of himself. But somehow or other, he never really made it, in the business world.

Aunt Fanny and Uncle Willie

She was my mother’s oldest sister, and at that time had 3 kids, all about my age, and one day, I visited her, at their home, and late in the day, Uncle Willie came home, it was a Saturday. He was just loaded with delicatessen, for dinner-- corned beef, pastrami, hot dogs, saukeraut, pickles, rolls, bagels-- you name it, he had it. I could not get over the quantity and quality of the food- and the six of us sat down for dinner and had a feast. Later I found out that this was a ritual each Saturday, after he closed his "cigar and cigarette stand" for the weekend, he would bring home, this "deli" dinner for the family.

I remember, when I went home that night on the bus-- I thought how lucky those kids were to have a father like that.

He made a good living at his business and Aunt Fannie insisted that all her kids go to high school and college. And all of them obtained outstanding college degrees and did very well in the business world.

Aunt Sally and Uncle Charlie

I spent my 2-week vacation, in my early teen years, at their home in Long Beach, on the island in New York. They were well off financially-- Uncle Charlie was Fire Chief of Long Beach, and a broker on Wall Street. They were good to Grandma and Mama and our family-- always helped out financially and during summer weekends the entire family, would congregate at Aunt Sally’s house as it was a large home-- and we kids would sleep upstairs in the attic, and on hot nights, on the outside porch. At times there would be 6 or 8 of us sleeping over on a weekend. Aunt Sally and Uncle Charlie were very family-minded and their home was always open to all.

Aunt Ruth and Aunt Sally were close all their life, and in fact, for many years they shared the home in Long Beach and Grandma lived with them, at the same time.

Aunt Sally, never had any children, but when Aunt Ruth gave birth to her only daughter Carol, I spent 2 weeks that summer, taking care of Carol, while she was an infant.

My Mother

My mother- the "best mother" anyone could ever have--she was a carbon copy of Grandma-- loving--caring--always hovering over her "kids" and teaching them love of family-- honesty--and to never tell a lie. Mama was the 3rd oldest of the family and everyone of her sisters and brothers gave me the impression that she was their "favorite sister"-- the way they spoke to her--the way they treated Gladys and I. Mama, by far, was the sister they all were closest to, and visited more often. To this day, and Mama, is gone, over 25 years, my memories of her, can still bring tears to my eyes-- May Mama rest in peace. She had a hard life.

Punch-ball-- played on the streets of New York and the borough of Brooklyn, was a take-off of baseball, only played with a tennis ball, but the rules were similar, only there was no bat used -- and nine out of ten games Ñ no gloves as in baseball were used -- let me explain --

Every street in the city, at the corner, between the curbs, had a man-hole cover app. 2 foot circular in shape, and every 100 feet down the street, was another man-hole cover, etc...So we would be hanging around the candy store, and we would then decide to have a punchball game and two of us would toss a coin and each would pick a player to play on his team. After each team was picked, either 7 or 9 on a team, would then solicit his players to collect whatever money the player wanted to bet on his team-- the winning team-- got all the money when the game was over.

A. The man-hole was homeplate.

B. Approx. 50 ft. from homeplate, chalk line was drawn from curb to curb and as in baseball, 1st base was drawn in chalk, at the curb, in the street, and opposite on the other side of the street, was drawn 3rd base-- then 2nd base, and this was the diamond.

C. Each batter would close his hand as a fist and take approximately a half dozen steps from home plate, and punch the ball, over the chalk line, but it must land in the street, and not be caught. in order for it to be a hit, and then run to first, or whatever ground he could cover, same as in baseball...(a single, double, etc...)

A game would be, like baseball, 9 innings. There was no pitcher in the game and no umpire--and the games were hotly contested, and money really changed hands... The young kids 10-12 years of age-- would bet in total anywhere from $1 to $6 a game. Whatever each one had to invest in the game.

The kids in the age bracket of 13-16, when they played, the team bets would total $10-$16-- but when the older guys would choose up their sides, the total team bets would sometimes go as high as $20-$30 and higher.

Remember-- what else was there to do? After school or on Saturday or Sunday, except play punchball, or stoop ball, as the school yard only had a couple of basketball courts for use-- during the day, that was it-- this was the busy city-- there were no playgrounds or empty lots, and the street was the only place to play ball.

On Saturdays and Sundays, each block had a team, and some teams that were real good, would travel from block to block-- looking for a team to play and then the betting could go up to $50 or more a game...these were players age bracket of 18 and up who worked during the week.

I, and the group of friends I had in those early teen years, spent every free hour either playing ball or at the pool parlor.

So I became the best pool player in my group, and in the winter or bad weather time- the pool hall was the most popular spot in town. Many a week’s allowance from my pay check, I lost playing pool Saturday night and Sunday.

Like anything else in life, some lessons are very costly, but I learned and really learned.

And I still play pool even now in 1997.

We moved from Williamsburg, in Brooklyn, in my late teens, and that’s when I stopped playing ball and going to the pool halls.

At the age of 17-18 I started going out with girls, going to dance halls which was the rage in those days, where the admission charge was, I believe, $1.50 a person to get in, and pick up a girl, for a dance or a date.

I was now working on 5th Avenue in a specialty store, as a shipping clerk, getting, I believe, $18 a week-- and giving Mama $12.00. A pretty girl, Rose Simon, also worked there, so I dated her one Saturday night. We went to a movie on Broadway at the Paramount-- 75 cents admission stage show- big band-singer-movie news reel-comic strip, etc... Also Frank Sinatra, Perry Como plus other great stars.

This was about 1930, after the 1929 stock market crash. Not knowing her home was in Far Rockaway, a suburb about one hour train ride and then a bus ride of a half hour, and I gallantly said, I’ll take you home—it’s too late to go home alone.

By the time, we got to her house, and then cuddled a little, it was after 1:00am.

So, I figured my Aunt Sally lives in the next town, Long Beach-- so, I’ll grab a bus and sleep over. (P.S. The bus stopped running after 1:00am-- as it was winter time- and these two towns were summer resorts.) I walked many miles to my Aunt Sally’s. When I think back on this incident now-- I say "Wow"-- how could I have rang my Aunt Sally’s doorbell, I remember at 4:00am. She let me in, and I went right to sleep.

But, I had a good time-- the next day-- I took the train into Brooklyn and when I left-- Uncle Charlie slipped a $5 bill, into my hand. He was a great guy.

I was 17 or 18 when we moved out of 83 Rodway Street to the Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn, and it seemed like every year after that we moved to a different apartment. I realized later, that the reason we moved so often was because we obtained a month or two of free rent, and being poor, this was a tremendous savings.

We then moved to St. John’s Street, in Brooklyn, and that is where I met the girl I was going to marry- "Bunny"- who lived next door. She was about 16, at the time, and we dated for about 3 or 4 years, before marriage.

We married in 1934- I was 23, and Bunny was 19. I was earning $45 a week, and my boss gave me a $10 raise and a year later fired me- times were tough. I was a buyer of millinery-- Ilene was 2 mo. old, and I got a job in Hartford, Conn. As a buyer, and we moved there. There was no future in the job, so on my buying trips each week to New York market, I started to look for another buying position, in the New York area.

Good business contacts, I realized, were the answer to opening doors for moving up in the business world-- and it paid off, as I landed a real plum job, as Buyer of Millinery, for the Associated Merchandising Corporation A.M.C., the most prestigious buying office in the department store field. This was in 1937. I was 25 years old, and was hired for $125 per week. In those days $6000 a year was a very good salary, and if a buyer earned 10 grand-- it was, in the trade, a top salary.

I stayed with the A.M.C. till 1945, and then, through contacts, was offered a buying job in Chicago, at Goldblatt Brothers, a rising discount department store chain. They gave me a deal I could not refuse. After consultation with my wife and family, I accepted their offer of $12,500 a year, plus bonus contract, based on sales and profits. So we moved to Chicago in August of 1945, and it worked out perfectly for the first year. Bonus earned was $17,000, so that year we earned $30,000 vs. the previous year in New York of $7500 and from then on, each year was up and up...the Chicago move for our family was the best thing I ever did, up till that time.

We missed family, and every year in summer and over the Christmas holiday, we would go East and West to visit the family-- Barry was almost 5 years old and Ilene 9, when we moved to Chicago, and they missed Grandma and all my wife’s family of aunts and uncles-- who they dearly loved and loved them. As they were the only children in my wife’s family.

Before we left Brooklyn, for Chicago, we lived half a dozen blocks from Grandma’s house- my wife’s family- and there were 6 adults, all single, living at home, at that time, so, Ilene and Barry, being the only children in the family-- got all the attention. The aunts and uncles loved the kids and the kids loved them and their memories of Grandma, Aunt Nettie, Aunt Marjorie, Uncle Sonny, Uncle Eddie, Uncle Lenny and Aunt Vera are treasures that they will never forget.

As for Bunny and I, we had a ball, a phone call, at the last minute, and we would have a babysitter for the night, who slept over. Once in a while I would give Eddie a quarter. We were so close a family that I never thought that I should pay-- because they used to fight about who should come over to be with the kids- all, even Nettie and Marjorie, who were in their early teens. Oh yes, if we wanted to go away for a weekend, then we had Auntie Leah, and a phone call would bring her over immediately, and she would shove us out the door in order to have the kids to herself. We had it made and never realized how lucky we were, as we never looked for a babysitter or paid for one.

There are many additional pages of memories or our life, after 1945. Some of the pages are at home, and some I recently gave to Barry. These pages cover the years of 1960 through 1990. Maybe, someday, they will be typed.  Lauri and Tracy put the booklet together and Jeffrey published this to The Internet.  How lucky can a grandfather be?

Martin