It's Only Me- Chapter 5- Friends and Adventures

Bicycle was the main means of transportation for me and most of my friends. This, coupled with a massive public transit system meant that there was virtually no place off limits to us.

Seth Herman and I were fast companions between 1969 and 1974 when he moved out of town for school and other adventures. But growing up in Brooklyn provided many small adventures which still give us both pleasure in the recounting.

We spent a lot of time together so we got into some mischievous things that are kind of comical and innocent to look back upon; especially when compared to the standards of today. But it is safe to say that we annoyed everyone in our paths. And I mean EVERYONE. We rode our bikes up onto the sidewalk and bore down on one poor old man with the brazen cry of “Move over old man, it’s a new generation!” (Seth’s idea- though I’m sure he will place the whole thing on my shoulders.)

We waited on the roof of my parents building at 1310 Avenue R on a cold January Sunday in 1969, with a 6 transistor radio tuned into the football game- I think it was the Jets- and at the appropriate signal from Seth- who knew about football- I cut the wire to the Master Antenna for the entire building. We then dashed down 2 flights of stairs to the 6th floor where we joined the mob surging to the roof to see what had blacked out their TV’s at the end of the 4th Quarter. If they had been carrying pitchforks and torches it would have been a scene right out of “Frankenstein.”

Another example of our ingenuity was riding the Long Island Railroad tracks at Brooklyn College off Flatbush Avenue. We actually would ride through the tunnel beneath Flatbush Avenue, reasoning that if a train were coming we would see the headlight and get out of the way. A foolproof plan- sure…. Again, this was entirely Seth’s idea though I’m sure he will tell you differently.

If we weren’t being a nuisance in the street we were at the movies. I believe that Seth and I saw every movie released between 1969 and 1974. One memorable occasion still stands out. We were at the Avenue U Theater watching I don’t remember- maybe “The Wild Bunch” with Ernest Borgnine and William Holden. A couple was seated in front of us and became very annoyed at our constant laughing, cursing and general antics. The woman said, “Bernie, make them stop.” Bernie turned around in his seat and said, “Shut the hell up.” Or something to that effect. We were both shocked into silence for a moment before Seth elbowed me saying, “You don’t have to take that crap.” He was right, so I said some thing like “What are you gonna do about it, Bernie?” as sarcastically as I could. Bernie turned around and smacked me in the head! That’s why I remember his name 40 years later.

We would take the subway to Battery Park and the boat to Liberty Island and climb the Staue of Liberty. 35 cents was the price of the boat and unlimited access to the island and statue. One day we were climbing those close, narrow, winding spiral stairs to the top. In front of me was a guy with an attaché case- who would probably be searched today- and the case kept hitting me on the backswing as we climbed each step. As if that wasn’t bad enough I had Seth behind me- pushing me up into the swinging attaché case- urging me to go faster. When we got to the top and looked back down that spiral stairway we could only imagine a bowling ball going down against the flow of people ascending. Oh and by the way the view was nice.

We answered public phones when they rang as we walked by. One day we were in the subway at Chinatown, don’t know why we were there, but we were. The phone rings and I answer it. Some Oriental voice asks for Chung Fung and I say, “Hold on” passing the receiver to Seth. All I heard was Seth going (in a Chinese accent) “You no get money from me- you fuck yourself!” and he hangs up. Next day they’re fishing a Chinese guy out of the river. I suppose it was Chung Fung.

There are almost no pictures to support any of these stories- cameras were not our main priorities back then. There were no cell phones or cameras to distract us from our daily fun of ruining other peolples days. The photo of Liberty Island was taken by Seth many years later and the brochure below is from my personal collection.

Seth was not the only one I traveled about with. John DiStefano and his brother Jimmy used to like to go to the Empire State Building. Aside from the great view they had a record machine up there- you could make a record in a booth- much like the photo booths of the time. We also liked to throw things off the 82nd floor observatory. Pennies, paper planes, bottle rockets. Didn’t matter. 82 stories is a long way and provided a lot of entertainment. The best part was walking back to the subway and seeing the dents in some of the parked cars and wondering “Did we do that?”

Mostly we just had fun, riding the subway and stradling the cars (one foot on one car and the other on the next produced a bouncy ride.) Walking the tracks from Kelley Park to the Kings Highway Station and climbing the platform to catch the train for free. (Saved 15 cents that way!)

We meant no harm and as far as I can remember we hurt no one. But a lifetime of memories were stored up during these years.

The Marshall's Creek Fish and Hunt Club

In 1973 I went camping at Marshall's Creek in Pennsylvania. I went there with Mona O’Brien to do a bit of camping under the stars. It didn’t quite work out as we’d planned. The trip had started easily enough, with my friend  driving Mona and I to Marshalls Creek, somewhere near Stroudsburg, at Otter Creek in Pennsylvania, just outside of New York.

He had a 2 seat green MGB,(it may have been the Triumph TR-7, but you’d have to ask him) and I sat behind the seats, in the little space between them and the rear plastic window of the convertible top. It was not the most comfortable ride, but more of a means to an end. In short, it was the only transportation available to Mona and I, outside of “thumbing it.”

We arrived in the Pocono’s and began to scout for a good spot to camp at, one which Seth would be able to find again when he came back to pick us up on Sunday afternoon, as planned. It was getting dark when my friend left the road in the MGB, dodging trees and looking for a suitable place. We soon found one, just outside of a cabin which sported a sign saying “Welcome to Marshall’s Creek Fish and Hunt Club.” We unpacked our gear and the headlights of his car disappeared into the darkness, presumably towards the road from which we had just come.

The silence, as they say, was deafening in the darkness of the woods. A moon was out, but through the canopy of the trees, offered scant light. We made some soup and rice for our dinner, and after a bit of fooling around, we crawled into our sleeping bag, nestled against one another in anticipation of a cool night.

That’s when we first heard it, a slow droning sound, neither of us could distinguish. It grew in intensity and seemed to be coming towards us. Mona spotted them first, a group of forms, clad in robes, numbering about 20 in all. They were chanting, neither in English, Latin or any other language which we could understand. As they got closer the forms took shape. It was medieval, it was unsettling, it was clearly time to leave.

Gathering some clothes, we dressed as we ran, never stopping to look back at the sound and shapes coming from behind us. We broke out onto the road, not even sure how we got there, and began to run up the road. We very quickly came to Otter Creek Trailer camp, where there was a fire burning outside of the camper pictured above. We pulled close to it, gathering the lone blanket we had grabbed with our clothes around us for warmth.

We must have made some noise, for in a moment there was a man at the door of the camper, shotgun in hand, and none too pleased to have been awakened by 2 straggly looking teenagers. “What’s the problem’, he asked, without lowering the shotgun. When we told him what had happened to us, and where, he lowered his weapon. “Well, that’s not the first time that’s happened up there. You kids best stay here by the fire ‘til morning and I’ll run you back up to see about your stuff.” We thanked him, he went back inside, and Mona and I didn’t quite sleep that night.

Morning came, we used the campground facilities to wash up a bit, and then our benefactor, true to his word, drove us back up to the Marshall's Creek Fish and Hunt Club to retrieve our gear. There wasn’t much left. Our guests had used hatchets to bust up the canned goods, killed some squirrels and left them mutilated and strewn about, and otherwise wrecked our campsite. There was little doubt that we would be enjoying another night under the stars. Our new friend invited us back down to his place, but as my friend would be expecting us to be where he had left us, there was nothing for it but to pass the day, and the following night, camping near the same spot.

I don’t remember the exact time, but I do remember the sound of friend's car as it drove through the woods in search of us. I’ll never know exactly how he managed to find us again, only that we were glad that he did. Wedging myself back behind the 2 seats was a joy as we headed out of the woods towards the highway, and home. It was one of my last camping trips for quite a while.

The Tray

This story was first written as a “stand alone” and then incorporated into “It’s Only Me”; my 2009 attempt at an autobiography. I still like the story – which is true.

The tray pictured here belonged to my friend's Grandma Bee Bee. She lived at 1900 Quentin Road in Brooklyn, N.Y. When I was in Junior High I thought nothing was classier than this tray- which was always filled with goodies like Bridge Mix and other delights we didn’t have in my home.

I’m not really sure of the year but it was around 1971 or so when Bee Bee passed away. I was offered a “souvenir” to remember her by- and I chose the tray. To me it epitomized an era of genteel living, when people had “company” on Saturday nights, or “guests” during the week for cards or Scrabble. TV came along and changed all that.

The real “meat” of this story involves the loss and later recovery of this tray- possibly with the aid of “cosmic” forces beyond our understanding or control.

The tray had been on top of a black steamer trunk which I used as a dresser in 1973 while living at 2132 Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn. Remember in July of 1973 I packed up and moved to Ohio where I ended up engaged to Monica and working in the paint factory.

In December of 1973 I left Ohio by car (a 1964 Ford Galaxy 500) for NY- trunk in tow. But the car didn’t make it and I was forced to abandon it on the side of Route 80 in Ohio within sight of an Arco station. Not being able to hitch with the trunk I carried it over to the service station and asked the owner if I could leave it there for a bit, intending to send for it later. The owner gave his consent and I lugged it up a ladder to the attic/storage area and continued to the airport and a flight to NY.

I mentioned to my friend that I had left the trunk at a service station in Ohio alongside Route 80. And then I don’t think I thought about it again except in a passing- “Gee, I wish I had my trunk back” kind of way.

So here it is, almost 2 years later at 2:30 in the morning and my front door bell rings back at 2132 Ocean Avenue. At the door is my friend with a black steamer trunk on his back going “Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas!” It was my trunk!

Inside we opened the trunk and I started going through all the things I had missed in the previous 2 years. And the big surprise was that not only was the tray in there- but my friend, who had given me the tray to begin with, had no idea it was in there!

Eventually I got the whole story- he had been driving back to NY from school at Ohio State in Antioch and along Route 80 found himself outside of Cleveland when he remembered that I had lived near there a couple of years back. And then he remembered that I had left a trunk at a service station somewhere alongside Route 80.

Looking up he saw the sign for an Arco station at the next exit and got off. He went in and asked the guy if he had ever stored a trunk for some tall, skinny guy with shoulder length hair. The reply was something like- “Yeah, and if he doesn't come for it soon we’re throwing it out!” So he took it and drove through to Brooklyn and woke me up.

And that’s when he saw the tray!

We have pondered this little oddity between us over these many years. He didn't know it was an Arco station- he didn’t know exactly where on Route 80 I had left it- and only a brief whim caused him to stop and check it out. Was it Bee Bee calling out to get the tray? Or just one of those odd coincidences that make life the joy it sometimes can be?

Who knows; but while I no longer have the friend; I still have the tray!

Life would go on in this vein for 2 and a half years. The only change would be where I was living. In June of 1975 Mr. Rosenberg came down and knocked on our door; smiling ear to ear. "Boys," he said, "We've sold the house and we're moving to Florida."

And so the era of 2132 Ocean Avenue came to an end. It was time to find a new place to live. It was also the start of what I refer to as my "lost year."

The Wedding - July 4, 1986

The following is an excerpt from "It's Only Me". 

July 4^th, 1986 came and the wedding was set for 4PM at the Church with a reception to follow at the Greenspring Valley Golf and Hunt Club. We were set up in a big tent on the edge of the golf course with the food catered and a large ice sculpture done by the Chef at the Club.

My best man, Seth Herman, and my friend Michael Held, were both on hand at the church to handle any problems associated with Ben; who lived around the corner; should he decide to make an appearance. I think the plan was to put him in the trunk of a car until Sue and I were gone, but nothing ever did happen.

4 PM came and Sue was late and I was worried and pissed off. She arrived 10 minutes later and I took my place at the Altar as she began the march down the aisle with Keith and Shane. I was overcome with the beauty of her walking towards me to spend our lives together.

Arriving at the Altar she turned to face me and we held hands. The Pastor blessed us and did the vows. I was crying the whole time. Whether it was from release that the last 2 years were behind us or because I would never know how our courtship would’ve gone without all the problems, I can’t really say. But I was very happy when Sue said I do and the Pastor pronounced us Man and Wife.

We went to the reception and it was really very nice. The weather was just perfect- not hot and no rain. We had about 80 people in all, including my Dad and his new wife Alice. My favorite Aunt Gloria and Uncle Bobby were there also. And they had bought along Nana, my Grandmother on my Dad's side. She was very happy and smiling. It was the last time I would ever see her and I am happy to remember her like that.

Most of the reception is a blur. I remember leaving and the boys were looking a bit apprehensive, wondering if we were ever going to come back for them. They were staying with their Grandma Marlene and her husband Grant. Sue and I were going to Mexico. Our plane didn’t leave until the following morning so we stayed at the hotel by the airport.

We got in the room and Sue went to change clothes- coming out of the bathroom ready to consummate our marriage. I was busy with the envelopes we had received as presents. Sue told me to put them down, “Don’t you want to see what’s under here?” she said, referring to the sexy outfit she had on. I looked at her and said, “I know what’s under there- I want to see what’s in the envelopes!”

Fixing me with a hard look in her eyes she said, “Put the envelopes down and consummate our marriage.” I did- but then went back to the envelopes…

The next morning we flew to Cancun, Mexico. At the time Cancun was new, having just been created on the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico as an economic way out of the devastation wrought by a bad hurricane a couple of years before that had virtually wasted their economy. Also the traditional tourist areas of Tijuana, Mexico City and Acapulco were plagued with crime. Cancun would be the new tourist destination. Surrounded by Inca ruins there was a lot to see and do.

Our first night was a misadventure. The hotel had us on the 7th floor with a beautiful view of the sea. But the room was sweaty- it was actually humid and there was moisture on the walls! We called the front desk and they said they would be right up. After an hour or so we called again. This time they said there was no one available to fix anything until the morning. We asked for a new room and were told there were none. We tried to stay in the room but it was really uncomfortable. Usually I would be a screaming maniac in order to get my due, but I didn’t want Sue thinking she had made a mistake in marrying me so I had to be calm.

By midnight we had finally agreed on a course of action. Taking our luggage we went down to the lobby and set up on the sofas. We even brought pillows down with us. The manager asked what we were doing. We told him we couldn’t move until the morning when our air conditioning was fixed. A room was found immediately on the 3rd floor. This was actually an improvement because we could seee the iquanas on the beach and began feeding them with the chocolate covered almonds from the snack bar in our room. At $6 a pack the iquanas were very appreciative and began hanging out beneath our windows.

The next day we began exploring, signing up for all the tours to the ruins. Sue wanted to see the Pyramids. We took a bus and headed off to see them. When we got there a little kid was selling ices and was really aggressive at it. I told him no about 10 times before he went away. Sue and I made the climb up and then back down. By this time we were sweating and thirsty. Spying the boy with the ices I went to get some. When he recognized me he said, “No ices for you Senor!” before huffily walking away. Kind of like the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld!

One day we went snorkeling and after we were through were resting at the edge of the lagoon. I saw a rowboat, abandoned and drifting towards the mouth of the lagoon. Having some sense of respect for small boats I dove in and did a power crawl type stroke to overtake the boat. I flopped into it and rowed back to shore thinking I had impressed my bride with my aquatic prowess. Sue went to use the ladies room and I went to the bar for a drink. That’s when all the exertion I had put forth hit me. I never even got to order. I passed out and slid to the floor! Sue attributes this to the ices I had eaten in a small village we passed through on the way. They were really good, but in retrospect they probably contributed to this whole ordeal.

Coming to after only a few seconds I tried to get some help but no one would pay any attention to me! I started to crawl out of the shack that was a bar on the edge of the jungle trail. I didn’t get very far before I had to stop and just lay there, sweating and heaving. The Mexicans that passed me pronounced me a “Gringo addicto,” a drug addict. The Americans who passed me by took me for a drunk Mexican. But no one would help me!

Sue was with the tour bus which was about to leave. She would not go without me and so they came back to find me. I think they were afraid of getting into trouble if they lost an American. I was carried back to the bus and the driver mixed Coca Cola with salt and made me drink it. Before long I was back to myself but I think I scared the hell out of Sue! The rest of our time was spent in the markets and shops buying souvenirs and gifts for the kids.

The time passed too quickly and we were home again. But it was a beautiful trip and made me realize how empty all my previous travels had been without someone special by my side. Now we were home and it was time to find a real job.

Sue and I are still together as of this writing. But who knows, she could always change her mind...