Hi
Hope is all well. I was just reading this article in the NYT and it reminded of our old neighborhood.
i thought 15 cents was a lot for an egg cream but then it was about Queens. What did an egg cream cost at Gelman's. I remember 8ents or a dime.
Obviously there were many similitaries to Stratton park and many NY neighborhoods:
Love of sports;
many friends;
a big family climate;
love of games;
many things to do.
Marie-Elena. What game were you were talking about? With The ice cream stick and the spaldeen. and tried to hit the stick and move it to over to your opponent's box on the sidewalk. Was it Potsy? Or was that another Game.
enjoy.
all the best.
Les
Memories of Stickball and Egg Creams at Queens Reunion
By CHARLES DELAFUENTE
A group of people with graying hair, beauty-parlor hair or virtually no hair gathered Saturday on a Queens street corner to prove a point — you can go home again.
Most of them were in their 50s and 60s and had returned to the street where they grew up in Jamaica to reminisce about what they called a very special block and even play a little stickball for old times’ sake.
They came from as near as other parts of Queens and from as far as California for a reunion of people who lived on the block in the 1950s and ’60s.
Virtually everyone who was asked what they remembered most about that block described the same thing — a sense of family and camaraderie.
The “block” is actually a two-block stretch of 149th Street between Jamaica and 90th Avenues that dominated the neighborhood: It is a section of solid six-story buildings, about 80 years old, with more than 300 apartments that loomed over an area that was then made up largely of private houses.
Two of the block’s alumni decided to organize an informal reunion, as they had twice before, which on Saturday drew about 50 people under cloudy skies. They hung out a banner proclaiming the reunion.
Someone broke out a broomstick and a Spalding (pronounced Spal-DEEN) rubber ball, and half a dozen of the men ran to Lowe Court, which dead-ends at 149th Street, and took their cuts until one, Paul Bennett, hit the ball into home run territory — about 150 feet away, according to Gary Meltzer, an organizer.
Mr. Bennett, who lives in Los Angeles, added: “There were always kids out playing. Whatever age you were, it didn’t matter. The big kids and the little kids, they all mingled.”
Elaine Wieder Siegell, the other organizer, who lives in Boca Raton, Fla., remembered the block this way: “We just lived together — one family. You could always knock on anybody’s door; everybody knew you. We were one very large family. We didn’t need camps and all the other outlets that our children have.”
Robbie — as he was known in those days— Clare also talked about the difference between childhood then and now, and about “the incredible camaraderie we had. We didn’t have play dates. We just got together and played. Stickball. Stoop ball. Curb ball.”
Stanley Brownstein, an accountant who lives in Sterling Heights, Mich., and insisted that his building, 90-23, was “the best one,” also said he remembered “all the camaraderie. We were always playing some sort of sport.”
And, he said, he would never forget the 15-cent egg creams from the candy store down the block. (It was one of the few that would make a vanilla soda on request.)
Steve Cohen, who grew up in a private house around the corner but made 149th Street his playground, also remembered “the camaraderie, the spirit of all for one and one for all. It was just a fun place.”
The neighborhood, like so many others throughout the city, has changed significantly since Saturday’s visitors grew up there. None of them, or their children, still live on the block. The current residents welcomed their predecessors. “It’s beautiful to see that they all came back, just beautiful,” said Clelia Ramos, who has lived there for 20 years.
Jill Kavolchyck — then Jill Kesselman — who lives in North Miami Beach, Fla., said, “We were all one big happy family. Everybody’s parents knew everything about you.”
She recalled playing potsy — a hopping game played on a chalk grid drawn on the street — a decidedly girls’ game, while “the boys played ball.”
And she recalled that the closeness had its downside. “The neighborhood yentas would have their heads out the window. You couldn’t do anything bad. They’d tell your parents.”
Two current residents, Douglas Brooks, a City University public safety officer who moved there in 1971, and his son, Robert, a bus operator, watched the stickball game with amusement.
Told what the strangers were doing, the younger Mr. Brooks said, “I think it’s very nice all these people stayed in touch and came back to ‘the block.’ ”