School Days

I went to a Catholic junior high school. The nuns were really strict and did not hesitate to use their hands, especially on the boys. They taught us Latin and Algebra. I was always bad at math and was failing miserably. “You goose!” the nuns would yell at me whenever I gave the wrong answer to a problem.

I remember one Sunday in particular my family was going to Brooklyn for my paternal grandmother’s birthday. My teacher wouldn't excuse me from Mass that day so my dad went to talk to her, saying the whole family was going and to please excuse me, just this one time. Well my father was just as charming as could be but the nuns told him flat out that the answer was no, and anyone who was not at Mass on Sunday would have marks deducted from their report card. My dad was stunned, but we went to Brooklyn anyway.

In a city-wide English test, the nuns found out I was reading at the high school level and gave me special books to read. All the students were given a questionnaire to choose whether we wanted to continue with an academic or commercial course. I wrote commercial, because I didn't want to be a teacher or a nurse. The nuns changed my answer to academic because they said I was too young to decide and my marks indicated I should take academic.

I went home and said I wanted to transfer to Central Commercial High because my dream was to be a secretary for some important person in some important place. My parents were called and we went to the principal and she said pointedly to my parents, “Central Commercial? There are BOYS there, you know,” My mom responded with, “There are boys everywhere, Sister. My daughter is going to have to live in a world with boys.”

The principal looked like a female Barry Fitzgerald,

(Just imagine Barry Fitzgerald in a nun's habit!)

and she obviously didn't appreciate my mom’s comment.  These nuns were overly concerned about boys. Maybe you heard this line in a play on Broadway about nuns. It sounds like a joke, however, it was true. Our homeroom teacher actually told us to be careful, that boys could look in our shiny black patent leather shoes and see our underwear.  Huh?

I finally transferred to Central Commercial. We went to classes starting very early in the morning (6:30 to 12:30) or the afternoon classes (12:30 to 6:30).  This was so we could work half a day in a real office.  I was lucky to be assigned to work for Judith Richter, a very attractive lawyer at 57 West 57th street. She was also the editor of a magazine for former members of the professional children’s school, which was attended  by  people who were in show biz like Milton Berle, Penny Singleton (who played the comic strip character Blondie in the movies), and many others. This was done by subscribing to a clipping service which sent her every item about one of the alumni.  I was assigned to arrange them into a readable magazine. 

                                                    "Blondie and Dagwood" (Blondie was played by Penny Singleton)

The most popular TV star there was Milton Berle, and Ms. Richter put together a big party for him which included many of his old classmates and other show biz people.

Another time Ms. Richter had a small cocktail party and allowed me to stay and attend. Jimmy Jemail, the inquiring photographer of the NY Daily News was there.  

Jimmy Jermail, NY Daily News Inquiring Photographer

I thought I would be very clever and said to him, “Mr. Jemail, I’d like to ask YOU a question.” He surprised me by answering in a very flirty way. That stunned me because I was only 16 and very unsophisticated. (I guess he was one of the boys the nuns tried to warn me about!)

LIFE ON "A HUN 19"

I was born and brought up in East Harlem. Some people might say, "Tsk, tsk, that must have been awful." Actually, it was great. It was never boring. The tenement buildings on East 119th street (pronounced “a hun 19”) had 7 apartments on each floor and there were 6 floors in each building. The higher you had to climb, the cheaper the rent.   I was lucky to live in one of the brownstones on the block. We had a small cement back yard which my dad had painstakingly turned into a garden, with a lilac bush, rose bushes and a cherry tree which never blossomed. 

There it stood, year after year, an empty promise. One year, my grandfather decorated the branches with store-bought cherries, draping them all over the tree as you would Christmas ornaments. Then he excitedly called the family to come see the miracle!

Our cherry tree never bloomed, so one spring my grandfather draped store-bought cherries all over the tree and then called the family to "come see the miracle."                    

In nice weather we would sit in our little garden, dwarfed by a big apartment house next door.  Since there was no air conditioning, you shared your neighbors lives through their open windows.  On the second floor lived the McCarthy family. Mary, Pat, and their two small sons.  Once when Pat had a beer too many one evening we heard Mary exclaim, “You knocked me down!” and her husband answered, “Did not!”  “Then what am I doing on the floor?” she wailed.  My father was always nothing if not helpful. He rushed up to the apartment and knocked on the door.  Pat opened the door immediately and offered him a beer. Mary picked herself up and asked after the family.  Peace and quiet prevailed.

Did we have number runners and loan sharks in East Harlem? Yes of course we did.  Everybody likes to gamble.  Some people couldn't afford to bet a whole dollar so they would play just one of the three numbers, and the runners would walk up and down the street holding up the numbers as they came out. Playing the numbers then was of course illegal.  When a person needed money but had no collateral they borrowed from a loan shark. Contrary to what you see in the movies, they didn’t always beat up a person who missed a payment. They weren’t all cold hearted monsters. Sometimes when you needed help it was better to go to your local capo than your local cop.

Holy Rosary church was located in the middle of our street.  Every Sunday afternoon there were three or four weddings and when the bride came out besides rice she was pelted with nickels and dimes and the occasional quarters. We scrambled for the coins every Sunday!

Holy Rosary Church, 444 East 119th Street

Just staying home on your own street was not boring because there were more families on one block than in some small neighborhoods. There was a grocer and a candy store, a shoemaker and a tailor and there was Holy Rosary where something was always going on. Every Sunday morning the cadet corps would parade in their uniforms and the band would play stirring marches. 

There was the wonderful weekend every May when the street would be filled with dozens of young girls dressed as brides and the young boys in their suits with scrubbed faces and skinned knees waiting for the bishop to come out of the rectory.  When he appeared with his tall mitered hat, blessing everyone, people cheered from their windows and lined the curbs, applauding.

Feast of Mount Carmel

We looked forward to it every year, almost as much as the 16^th of July, which was the feast of Mount Carmel.  Then the whole neighborhood was festooned with banners and lights crisscrossing the streets.  The portable Ferris wheel was set up and wonderful odors from food being cooked out on the street filled the air. The excitement mounted daily and every night you dressed up and walked over to the main street to hear the band play and hoped some boy might talk to you and ask you to ride the Ferris wheel with him.  Nobody went to sleep on the 16^th. There was a mass every hour and people came from all over the city to attend on that special night.

Ohio could have its state fairs—we had our fiestas.  This big holiday was followed by smaller fiestas for lesser saints until September came and school started and summer was officially over.

Like I said, people might say, "You grew up in East Harlem? How awful." And again I say, actually it was pretty great.

Local Boy Makes Good!

I remember one time as a young girl my friends and I were sitting in the Colonial coffee shop having iced tea when one of the neighborhood boys, Lou Criscuolo, was bragging about his close relationship with the singer Vic Damone. Vic was appearing at the Waldorf Astoria at that time. Lou was determined to become an actor and he said he went down to the Waldorf every night to meet with the singer. Well, this sounded really impossible to us. A number of people from our neighborhood had made it in show biz, among them Tony Francioso, who later married Shelly Winters.

Tony Francioso & Shelly Winters

Another handsome man from the neighborhood, James Luisi went on to become a successful actor who had several parts on television and even once appeared on the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

James Luisi

But Lou’s looks were not the leading man type. We teased him

mercilessly, saying things like, “Waldorf Astoria? You must mean the Waldorf cafeteria.”  He got really angry and said ‘I’ll meet you right here tomorrow night and take you down to the Waldorf.”

I went home and told my family about it and my Uncle Eddie immediately set out to check on Lou. But the neighborhood guys told him not to worry, Lou was a good guy. So the next night my friend Anna and I met Lou at The Colonial and he hailed a taxi and told the driver, “Waldorf Astoria Hotel, 51^st and Park.” Wow! We finally believed him! 

When we arrived Lou took us straight to the elevators and up to the penthouse roof, where Vic was about to perform. We stayed in the back of the room until Vic made his entrance. As he walked past me, he stopped for a moment and stared at me in my black and white checked suit and then said, “Hey, Sexy! Wait for me after the show!” Well, that was a shock and a surprise. Then he turned and walked down the steps singing one of his hits, Vagabond Shoes to wild applause. Lou laughed and said to my friend Anna, “Now she’s going to tell everyone what Vic said.” Well, yes I was, but I had to get home first, so we left soon after. It was such a fun night.       

Vic Damone

                    

As for Lou, he really did get into show business and appeared in many TV shows and in movies. As I said, he wasn't a “leading man” type, so he was usually cast as a taxi driver or some sort of blue collar worker. But he was a very good actor and his Hollywood dreams were fulfilled. Another local boy made good!

Lou Criscuolo

           

(Listen to Vic Damone singing Vagabond Shoes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAroevQWkX4)

First Friendships, First jobs

          I met my best friend Ruby when we were both 5 years old.  She had just moved onto the block and was a tough little kid with three older brothers and a very strict father. As I walked up the street toward her she immediately started a fight with me.  That was her way of saying "Hello, don’t mess with me." Luckily her mom was looking out the window of their 4th floor apartment and called down to us. "Don't fight—buy ice cream!'' she shouted, and she threw down a napkin with six cents. We were thrilled, and raced to the candy store. As we enjoyed the treat we started talking and immediately became friends. The neighborhood was known to be a stronghold of the mob, but instead of being scary that always made us feel safe as we became teens because we were known as "good girls from the neighborhood." There were always a number of older guys hanging out in front of the social club on the corner and nobody better ever bother us.

                                                     ( This isn't me & Ruby, but it could be!)

          As I said, Ruby’s father was very strict. He wouldn't allow her to go to any dances, even the one right across the street from their apartment which he could watch from his window. To get her to come out at night I wrapped up a gift box and told him it was my cousin's birthday, and couldn’t Ruby come over for a piece of cake? That worked once, twice, but when we tried it a third time, he raised an eyebrow at me and said, "So Tina, you have a lot of cousins.” It was time for a new scheme.

When Ruby’s mom threatened to tell her father what we did, Ruby called her a stoolpigeon. Ruby’s mother was Italian and not familiar with American slang. She told Ruby’s father, "She calla me a pigeon!"

FIRST JOB

The summer Ruby and I were twelve we were roller-skating along Pleasant Avenue when we saw a sign in a store window that said “Girls Wanted.”  We both pulled off our skates and went in. They were making artificial flowers and put us to work right away making poinsettias.  It was really easy and they said it paid 25 cents a gross. We finished a few gross and were paid right away.

Poinsettias were easy--yellow plastic piece, red petals, green leaves.

I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my mom. I said to her “Guess what?  Today I am a woman!”  She thought I meant I had gotten my period, and I said, “No, today I got a job!” Well the next day we went back and they put us on roses. We had to twist the roses onto the stems. The third day two men came in and demanded, “Who’s Tina?” I stood up and they dumped two big boxes at my feet. Apparently I was no good at twisting hard, because all the roses fell off their stems. So much for that job.

Roses were trickier--I was fired the next day.

My grandfather was working at Tripler, an upscale men’s shop on Madison Avenue in Manhattan.  He got this great idea to bring me to work there.  They had me sewing initials on socks, which was impossible because I could never sew well.  I learned, however, to hang up suits and that’s what I did.

Tripler's Men's Clothing Store

The best part of working at Tripler's was having lunch every day at Chock Full of Nuts.  I heard recently that the franchise is possibly coming back to New York, which was like music to my ears. I’ve been waiting 50 years for another Chock Full of Nuts cream cheese on date nut bread sandwich.  Yum!

cream cheese on date nut bread - a Chock Full O'Nuts specialty

(Editor's Note: My mom and Ruby are still friends to this day. We recently went to Ruby's and her husband Al's 50th anniversary party. When they brought out the anniversary cake and ice cream, Ruby looked at my mom and said, "Don't fight--buy ice cream!" They are still so cute together.)

Frank Sinatra, Part Two!

New York City itself was a magical place. Anyone who was anybody was there—and for a nickel you could take the subway and in 20 minutes be downtown in the heart of all the glitter. On weekends you could go downtown and maybe run into Marlon Brando having dinner in the Bird in Hand restaurant. We would skip school and for 55 cents before noon, you could see a movie and Frank Sinatra in person…all day long!

The annex I attended was on Madison Avenue and 132^nd street, in the heart of Harlem.  One day in the middle of a class the principal came in and said, “I need the following three girls to get your coats and come with me,” She called my name and two other girls who lived on my street.  My father was waiting for us downstairs to take us home.  It seemed there was a race riot going on and we hadn’t heard anything about it.  When we got home we learned that Frank Sinatra had come to Benjamin Franklin high school (4 blocks away from us) to talk to the boys there about getting along and then sang an inspiring song, “What is America to me.” This unannounced visit was not publicized.  He did it because he was trying to help ease the situation.

If Frank Sinatra was appearing at the Paramount we would get there at 6:30 am, to be sure to get seats in the very first row. My Uncle Eddie would arrive sometime in the afternoon. He’d slink down the theater in the darkness and make his way to the front row.  “Teeny…Teeny,” he’d hiss. Then when he’d find me he’d pass over a paper bag filled with sandwiches. He knew we’d been there since early in the morning and were probably starving (which we were.)

We were so close to the stage we were able to hand Frank little gifts. One time we brought him Italian pastries. We had heard (or more likely, read in a fan magazine) that Frank’s favorite pastry was rum baba—sponge cake soaked with rum flavor and filled with vanilla cream. 

Rum Baba

We brought him a box and handed it to while he was onstage. We included a note and signed all our names. We decided the only fair way to write our names would be alphabetically—Anna, Ruby, Tina. We handed Frank the pastries and he read the card out loud to the audience: “Dear Frank, Don’t get drunk on the baba! Love, Anna, Ruby and Tina.”  He paused for a moment after saying our names and we all screamed in delight. Frank turned to the audience and said, “I guess that was Tina.”

The theater had flower arrangements in the lobby, and we’d always steal one, so as Frank walked on stage we would hand him the flower which he’d put in his lapel.

During one of his appearances, a unknown group called Sammy Davis and the Will Mastin Trio was on the bill with Frank. Sammy Davis was absolutely the best performer we had ever seen. So when came out again we called Sammy’s name and handed a flower up to him, too. Sammy was thrilled. “Frank, Frank, look!” he said, and pointed out the flower in his lapel. He was positively beaming. When Sammy began performing with Frank he finally got all the recognition he so rightly deserved.

(Frank and Sammy--I wonder if that flower in Frank's lapel was one of the ones I gave him?!?)

If Frank wasn’t around there was always Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, or Benny Goodman, or Louie Prima with Keely Smith or Tony Pastor with the Clooney sisters. Rosemary and her sister were so skinny we were all envious. Of course the place to sit was in the front row so whoever was appearing would kibitz with you. When Louis Jordan would sing, “If he says you look good in a sweater…go home and write him a letter!” we would howl with laughter as he directed his words to us.

I feel bad for the young people of today—if you want to see a Broadway show, tickets are over $100 apiece, and you’d better cross your fingers that the show is good and not a bomb. Yes, the world today has internet and iphones, but remember kids, I had Frank Sinatra entertaining me all day long—for fifty-five cents!

                                                                                                                                               (Editor's Note: Here's a youtube clip of Louis Jordan singing. Jump to 1:12 to hear the "If he says you look good in a sweater" line:                                                           https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rtr2ZmBcG2A )

COLLECT CALL

Frank Sinatra was at the height of his popularity. We were too

young to go to see him in person but my friends and I listened to him every

Saturday night on Your Hit Parade and bought all of his records. Every

month we would buy a movie magazine and cut out pictures from it to

add to our scrap book of our favorites. 

One movie magazine had a story about the Sinatra family and it

actually printed his home address. I got a crazy idea. Me and my two best

friends all squeezed into a pay phone booth and I dialed the long distance

operator. Assuming what I hoped was an adult voice I said, “This is a

personal friend of Nancy Sinatra. I have her home address but I somehow

misplaced her phone number.”  We had made up a name that sounded like

someone she might have call her collect.

The first two operators hung up immediately. But the third one

said in a tired voice, “Hang on…”

Who knows where Frank was that morning? Maybe Nancy was

bored or lonely or just curious, but miraculously—or so it seemed to

us—she accepted the call!  Suddenly we heard a woman say, “This is

Nancy,” Oh my God! I babbled—first apologizing for calling her collect

and then we began peppering her with inane questions such as,

“What did little Nancy eat for breakfast?” “What’s Frank’s favorite color??

and the like. 

Nancy asked our ages and I said, “Ruby and I are 12 and Mary

is 11.” Then she said, “What are we four girls going to do to keep the rest of

the girls in the world away from Frank?” Can you believe that? Mrs. Frank

Sinatra really said that to us. She wasn’t the least bit annoyed or nasty, but

warm and friendly. And maybe a little sad, now that I think about it.

We then told her we would send her the money for the phone call and

said goodbye. When the call ended, the operator informed us the

charge for the call was $4.40.  We raced home and emptied a Nestles

Quik can, drew boxes on a sheet of paper and started putting coins

in the can, and each time we made a deposit we would dutifully

record it in one of the boxes. “Ruby, 10 cents. Tina, 15 cents.” It took

a long time but finally we had four dollars and forty cents. 

We went to the post office and told the clerk we needed a

money order for $4.40 made out to Mr. Frank Sinatra. The postal

worked joked, “What? Frank needs your $4.40?” But nevertheless we

got our money order, mailed it, (along with our savings record), and

were happy to do so.

            Well, almost a full year went by (you can imagine the amount of

fan mail Frank received at the peak of his fame), but one day I

received an envelope in the mail. I opened it and out fluttered the

money order, and then a note. “You girls worked so hard to save this,

we think you should have it back and spend it yourselves.” (signed)

Frank Sinatra. Did we flip? You bet!!!

FIFTY-TWO DOLLARS

My dad always wanted to be an architect and was going to school at night to follow his dream. But when the depression hit, nobody was building anything and jobs were as scarce as hens teeth. He was married to my mom and they had me and my younger brother Ronnie and my dad was driving a taxi. If he made 50 cents a day he was lucky. He heard the New York Bus Company was looking for drivers, but you needed experience driving a truck. So my dad boldly walked into a truck company and asked the owner if he would give my dad a reference.  

“Why should I do that? I don’t know you!” the astounded owner asked. Now my dad was very charismatic, handsome, and persuasive, and never one to take no for an answer. He spoke to the owner in Italian and said he was a good driver and was unable to feed his two small children. The owner finally capitulated and gave him a reference, which enabled him to get a fairly secure job with the bus company.

This is why he was so taken aback when his wife told him about The Fifty-Two Dollars.

You have to realize, in the 1930’s little luxuries were almost non-existent. In East Harlem, even candy was such a rare treat that our parents had to hide the Brioschi, fizzy crystals used for upset stomachs, on a top shelf to keep it away from the kids.

Almost everything was purchased “on time.” The insurance man came once a week for the 25 cent payments on the policies that would—in 20 years—grow to a five hundred dollar bonanza when little Johnny or Mary was ready to get married.

Everyday items such as tablecloths and curtains were acquired the same way—60 cents down and 50 cents a week—who could afford to buy them otherwise?

One day when I was eight, a salesman appeared at the door lugging a case containing 12 wondrous  volumes of children’s books called My Book House, which he explained to my mom would provide a complete education—from nursery school to college years. For my mom, the clincher was a then little-known children’s story called The Little Engine that Could. As the salesman dramatically intoned, “I think I can, I know I can,” my mom was convinced. This would teach her children that any mountain could be surmounted—you just had to think you could!

I will never forget that humid August night when my dad walked wearily through the door, completely exhausted in his hot, scratchy bus driver’s uniform. He had just come off his shift driving a bus packed with passengers through the streets of Manhattan. This was before air conditioning, exact change, or automatic doors that opened to let passengers on and off. He was greeted by my mom excitedly babbling, “They are the most wonderful books, Mario! ‘I think I can, I know I can!’  And only one dollar a week for 52 weeks!”

I realize now what an enormous sum that was for a man struggling to bring home maybe thirty dollars a week.

My brother and I held our breath as the battle raged on.

“FIFTY-TWO DOLLARS!”

“I think I can, I know I can!”

Eventually mom won and the wonderful books were ours forever. Ultimately my children and my brother’s children learned all about Don Quixote, The Snow Queen, The Water Babies, Oscar Wilde’s Selfish Giant, The Midas Touch, and many many more. Truly these books were indeed an education.

And absolutely the best fifty-two dollars my mom ever spent.

Editor’s Note: Here are some pages from volume four of My Book House, Through the Gate. I loved this book so much my grandmother wrote my name and address on the title page for fear I would leave it somewhere since I brought it with me everywhere. I’ve also included a sampling of pages from my favorite stories—The Fisherman and His Wife, the Snow Queen and the Midas Touch. I also had to laugh when I saw my scribbles on the last page. “Cat. Dog. Lisa.”  (Click on the images to enlarge them.)