I attended kindergarten, grammar school, high school, and college in Manhattan. It was natural. I only left the Yorkville neighborhood for high school—LaSalle Academy in the East Village. In September of 1972, I entered Hunter College with 16,000 other matriculating students. At orientation, I was way back in the line. When they gave me my first… Read more »
Though my family’s been on York Avenue since 1896, my mother’s roots started in East Harlem. She was born on 118th Street and Second Avenue in 1930. Her family left there for the St. Lucy’s parish on 104th Street between First and Second Avenues in the mid-1930s. Above is a photo of mom’s family in… Read more »
On January 20th, I attended a funeral service at St. John’s Pentecostal Church at 132nd Street and Lenox Avenue. A brilliant cold morning. After the viewing, I walked Lenox south to Marcus Garvey/Mount Morris Park. Went to the top to visit the old fire watch, a sister to the fire watch in Central Park, “The… Read more »
Mr. Bellers Neighborhood published my story “January 25, 1987.” It concerns my trip to the New York Giants first Super Bowl 25 years ago. Winning Sunday will warm my winter by ten degrees; if the Giants are defeated it’s been an amazing close to a dramatic New York football season. This is the only sport I leave… Read more »
When I was a little boy, my Ryan grandfather and I sat on his long York Avenue stoop and read The New York Daily News together. If he was feeling good, Pop would spring for a dime and I would run up to the newsstand on 86th Street and buy two newspapers, one for each… Read more »
The New York Times published my indoor tackle story “When The Fire Hydrant Was The End Zone.” In 1962, the New York football Giants played fourteen games each season. Seven games at home and seven games away. Away games were televised. Twenty one hours of heaven. The League blacked out home games to discourage a drop… Read more »
Last night, walking through Rockefeller Center a memory struck me like a brick. In 1970 the best bang for the buck in New York City was Radio City Music Hall. My sixteenth year was a very good one. After my last class at LaSalle Academy around 2pm, I’d take the # 6 subway at Bleecker… Read more »
My Uncle Jack and Aunt Anna were having marital problems in the early 1940s. Their fighting hit a new high in their East Harlem neighborhood when Aunt Anna found half her house money missing from the flour tin. She chased Uncle Jack with a ladle full of dog crap up First Avenue to the entrance of the 138th Street Bridge. Jack ran into… Read more »
My first coffin was metal. It measured six feet long, three feet wide, and three feet deep. It rested on a wood base that lifted its height up by one foot. It sat in near darkness at the rear of the parlor. Everyone paid their respects. Upon close examination, you saw it bled sweat and… Read more »
Like my fathers’ mother, like my father, I love my stuff. I’m no Collyer brother. My place is neat, in its own way. I still own my first two records, both by Dave Seville and the Chipmunks: “Witch Doctor,” in 1958, and 1959, “Alvin’s Harmonica.” The football is from 1969 and the main reason it’s still here:… Read more »
