Over the holidays our daughter was on a trip to Israel, and
our son-in-law came to stay with us for a night. While he was here he took all
300 of my Dad’s old Kodachrome slides from the late 1950’s and early ‘60’s and
scanned them into our computer; something I have wanted to do for several years
but never gotten around to. He did it in just under 3 hours!
So now I have a boatload of photos which I had been looking
at by squinting while holding them in front of a lamp for about 30 years.
Occasionally I would have one made up at the camera store, but for the most
part these photos were lost to me. Along with those photos, many memories were
also a bit sketchy, and so they are a real “treasure” to mine for pieces of my
past.
Here I am riding my first tricycle on Kings Highway and
Bedford Avenue in 1957. We lived on the corner in apartment 4-A of 3619 Bedford
Avenue, which is one of those pre-war buildings with huge rooms separated by
long hallways. It was a rear apartment, facing the alleyway between our
building and the Kingsway Hospital next door. I’m not sure what it was called
back then. I do remember being awakened at night by the scary sound of the
ambulance sirens as they brought in patients. These were frightening sounds to
me mainly because I didn't know what had happened; only that someone was dying.
I never parsed out the difference between an ambulance siren and death. For
years they represented the same thing to me.
By day the building was a fascinating place to play. There
was a series of ramps to get to the basement. They were for moving furniture in
and out more easily. At one time; in the 1930’s when my mother first moved in
there; the building had a concierge and all deliveries went through the
basement.
The basement also contained 4 tremendous boilers, not unlike
the ones found on the ships I would later serve aboard, and these boiler rooms;
while “off limits” by paternal edict; drew me like a magnet. They had fires
going all the time to heat the mammoth amounts of water required for the two
separate halves of the building, which contained over 100 apartments.
On the corner of Kings Highway and Bedford Avenue the
building had a separate apartment which was accessible only by the private
entrance which stood about a half story above street level. This put that
apartment on the same plane as the first floor, which was reached by going up
several short steps from the lobby. I don’t recall ever having met the people
who lived there; maybe they worked days; but they must have been home on
weekends when we played on their “stoop.” They never said a word, though we
must have been loud, and I assume they either liked kids, or they had the
patience of Job.
The lobby opened up to two wings; left and right; with each
side serviced by a separate elevator. Both sides had long rows of mailboxes,
flush with the walls, and I looked forward every day to watching the mailman
place the letters so deftly into each box. He was quite a marksman, never
faltering or missing a single one. I always felt as if I were watching a
magician at work; his sleight of hand seemed just as quick to my little eyes.
The roof was another magical place for me. Although I was
too young to go up there alone, on Tuesday nights in the late 1950's we used to
go up there with our parents to watch the fireworks from Coney Island, about a
mile and a half away to the south west. I also remember going up there and
"helping" my father install our first TV antenna, dropping the cable
from the roof down to our window and then pointing the antenna towards the
Empire State Building with its huge antenna in Manhattan; about 12 miles away
to the north.
The stairs were the main mode of transportation for my
brother and me whenever we went “out” to play. We lived on the 4th
floor, in apartment 4-A and so it was always a mad race down the stairs to the
lobby, which seemed to take forever to get out of. If I remember correctly
there was a suit of armor in the lobby that went with the Tudor looking beams
which were the motif of the whole building. The exterior was still the same when
I passed by in 2011, but I didn't go inside. I think I was afraid of spoiling
the memories I have by seeing the place now that I’m older.
One time; this is back in the 1970’s; I went to look at the
building before I left Brooklyn for the Navy. I remember thinking how small
that front courtyard was compared to my memory of it. How much smaller it has
gotten since that day, when I left to
see the world, I cannot say, though I imagine it has shrunk even more.
Well, this is just a ramble prompted by an old photograph
not seen clearly in decades. And just think; there are; potentially; 299 more
to write about. Who said “you only get to live once?”
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