Ferragosto...returning

For nearly 30 years I have resided in New Jersey, but I tell people I will never be a "Jersey Boy" because deep in my heart I am a New York City Kid, and even deeper....I'm a Bronx Guy.

Photo:  Hank Smith

I grew up in that borough, living in three different neighborhoods.  My first home was actually on Home St. in the Morrisania area, also known as the South Bronx.  My second was on E. 187th St., in
the Fordham section, and the third move was to Bronxwood Ave. at Gun Hill Road.  Mom, dad and I just kept going further up north.  I have memories of all those locations, but the strongest are from those years at 187th St. (1955 to 1962), when I was between the ages of 9 and 16 .  Those are crucial years of development, the transition from childhood into pre-adulthood, a time when I really started to shape my sensibilities and world view.  It was also an interesting time in history, with the civil rights movement getting into full swing, classic TV shows airing, and some great music for us young people being turned out.  A time just before the big cultural revolution of "The 60's" was about to hit, and before the darkness of war and assassinations affected us.  I returned to that neighborhood a few Sundays ago for the first time in a few years, to attend the Ferragosto festival.

Our home on E. 187th St. was between Park Ave. and Third Ave., in a neighborhood populated mainly by working class Irish and Italian Americans.  Our previous neighborhood (Home St.) was also working class, but predominately African American.  We were one of the few Black families in our new neighborhood, living on the border of what is considered the Belmont section,  which is east across 3rd Ave.  Up a few blocks is Arthur Ave. and where it intersects with E. 187th St. is basically the nexus of the Little Italy section of The Bronx that is sometimes, as I remember, euphemistically referred to as "Arthur Ave."  If I went west of where I lived, and a bit north, I entered the area of Fordham Road and the Grand Concourse which had the big stores, movie theaters and places of note, including; Alexander's Department Store, Loews Paradise, RKO Fordham, Woolworth's, and Poe's Cottage (as in Edgar Alan Poe).  The Grand Concourse at this time was middle class and had a large Jewish population.  I spent more of my time going to the Fordham area than the Arthur Ave. area, but I did spend time at Arthur Ave.  One thing I remember were the places there that had live chickens.  But the big thing was, and I'm gonna sound like an old fogey, but in my day we MADE the things we

played with and the major DIY project was making a scooter.  You need skates (the kind that attach to shoes), an 2x4 piece of wood, bottle caps, 2 strips of light wood, and.....a good crate.  Getting the right sized crate for your height was crucial because it would be attached to the 2x4 to be the front of the scooter (see photo).  On the top of the crate you attached the two strips at an angle to be handles, on the front of the crate went the bottle caps in your own design, and on the bottom front and back of the 2x4, trimmed down for the right length, would be the two parts of the broken up up roller skates, which had to be ball bearing to really be effective.  So, going to the markets/stores in and around Arthur Ave. was the place to get the crates.  I was usually lucky to right the right one because I was tall for my age.

One of the reasons I have strong memories of this time and neighborhood is that this is when I really became aware of race and culture.  Even though we were one of the few black families there, I had lots of friends and we basically all got along well, in fact my best friend was Michael Vecchio who lived on E. 186th St.  Boy, did his mom cook!  But I did once hear a kid call out to me and my mom "Hey, blackie", thinking he was calling a cat and then realizing what he meant.  I did get beat up once at recess in JHS for no "apparent" reason, but I knew why.  I was reluctant to approach any girls I liked because interracial dating wasn't completely supported then and my dad used to cut my hair because he didn't think anyone in the neighborhood could cut "our" hair.  But for some reason that never really got to me, probably because we still maintained connections to our old neighborhood.  I still went to church there, visited friends there, went to parties there....and girls!  So, I was not lacking in the social world.  The schools I went to had kids who were Jewish, Italian, Irish and some Puerto Rican.  I got exposed to some of those cultures when befriending those kids and I think it broadened my base of how I saw the world.  I was interested in it all, even had a Pen Pal from Scandinavia.  My adult travels to Japan, Ireland, Mexico, Canada, Sweden, Denmark and across the states most likely were fueled by those childhood years.  I also got very interested in electronics and making things at home.  The local Lafayette store was a popular destination for me.  So, needless to say, this area represents a richness to me.  I returned.

After getting off the Metro North train at Fordham Road, I decided to walk through some of the streets that I trod years ago.  First, I crossed Webster Ave. and walked up Fordham Road for a bit trying to remember some of the stores long gone on that street.  "Where would Cousin's Record store, the Army Navy store or the Valentine theater have been?", I wondered.  I went along Marion Ave., going south toward 187th St., approaching my old elementary school, which had been PS 85.  Once at the school, I went down the hill of 187th St., the very hill I fell down on at age 11, cutting my lip badly requiring stitches.  Crossing Webster Ave., I went west toward my old house.  All along the way I saw the changes, bodegas replacing candy stores and grocery stores of my day, many churches more frequently than not being Spanish, apartment buildings having gates covering what I remember as open courtyards leading into main entrances, and buildings standing in what were empty lots where I and my friends played.  But the Carvel ice cream stand I remembered on Webster Ave. was still there, exactly as I remembered it! 

I got to the house we had called home, stopped and stood for awhile, just looking at it and the top floor windows where we lived.....then headed up 187th St. to the festival.  Ferragosto is a Italian tradition that recognizes the end of the harvest season with a celebration that includes music and

food.  I was hungry and once I hit Arthur Ave., I got an eggplant hero at Tino's Deli, then a small pasta dish at a stand in the festival before heading into the Arthur Ave. Market, a wonderful place full of food and also cigars, which are made from scratch in a spot right when you enter!  The street got progressively more crowded with smells you could die from, emanating from all the stands.  A

The 70's Project and dancing.  Photo: Hank Smith

Commedia Dell 'Arte group roamed the street, interacting with the crows and I just people watched a lot.  The high point for me was the music.  On main stage was an ongoing line up of different groups and individuals, but two groups I really liked.  The 70's Project was a group that not only played music of the Disco era, but also of 50's and 60's, and when they did "The Wanderer", I went right back in time.  The time warp continued with Steve Lippia and his 10 piece Orchestra.  He was one of

Steve Lippia and Orchestra.  Photo: Hank Smith

those singers who does a Sinatra like thing, which I don't normally like (you can't duplicate the kid
from Hoboken) but this guy was good.  He managed to be himself and not "copy" Sinatra, but the band he had was what made it great.  This group was swinging and had the crowd up dancing.  Again....memories through music.  When it was time to head back to Metro North, I got a cannoli at Egidio Pastry Shop and decided to walk by the building that was JHS 45, where I went to school and was also the alma mater of Dion and the Belmonts.  It is a different school now, but around the corner was the same White Castle hamburger joint that we often got our lunches from during school....over 50 years ago.

The former Paul Hoffman JHS 45.  Photo: Hank Smith

It was a memorable day, but as I got on the train I realized I had a Jones for something else.  I got off the train at 125th St. and got a slice of German Chocolate Cake and a slice of Lemon Coconut Cake to take home.  The great thing about NYC, you cannot be culturally deprived!