As the Phillies push again toward the post season, I can't help but remember the highs and lows as a Phils fan. Thankfully, the past few years have been more highs! Becoming a fan during the teams losing era, it was nice to experience 1980, and again the current run from 2007 through today.
My brother and I, along with many of our friends, spent a good deal of our youth at Philadelphia Veterans Stadium, known to most Philly sports fans as "The Vet". Some remember it more as "The Big Toilet" because of the state the City of Philadelphia left it in for a good part of it's history. But as kids, we didn't even think about the condition of the concrete octorad at Broad Street and Pattison Avenue. All we were concerned about was taking in Phillies games and having fun, both watching the games and otherwise.
Back when the stadium first opened in 1971, the cost of a general admission ticket was just $0.50. That's right, fifty cents! Cheaper than the cost of monthly phone service using MagicJack. You can't by a ticket anywhere for that low a fare anymore, so every day was Kid's Day. We would spend at least one day out of the weekend there whenever the team was in town, sometime both Saturday and Sunday if we could swing it timewise. Not that we had a full schedule as kids, but as I moved into my teen years and held two jobs on the weekend making stroboli at Pizza Shack and busing tables at The Forum caterers, I had less time for ballgames.
What was amazing was that even the Sunday giveaway day games were at that low admission price for the first few years. After a few years, they raised the general admission rate to the adult price of $2.50 for the gift days, and eventually kids had to pay that same amount every game. And that didn't last long either. After the 70s, the cost of a ticket anywhere in the Vet went higher. General admission - the famed "700 level" - was pricier than the cheap seat days that I remembered as a kid. Sneaking down into the box or reserve seats somehow left me feeling less guilty after the increase.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
... Being able to see double-headers for the price of one admission. This was the era before what is now known as Day/Night Double Headers, where games are now played first in the afternoon, and again in the evening, a separate ticket purchased for each game.
... The events that often occurred between the double headers. I remember being there when Karl Walenda, aka "The Great Walenda", walked the tightrope over The Vet. Being a dweller of the 700 level, we were there when he came down into the crowd after his walk and got to shake hands with him. Sadly, Mr. Walenda died a number of years afterward when a gust of wind took him off the wire during a stunt in Puerto Rico.
... Charlie Frank, the king of the hot dog vendors. His cries of "Doggie-ho!" were famous, so much so that he appeared in some TV commercials and the Phillies had a special day to commemorate his service. Some folks were known to try to get tickets in his section after that for a while.
... Nasty stadium food - The Vet could never be called a ballpark. Wilted hot dogs would be forgettable (sorry, Charlie) were they not so bad. The fries weren't bad, but then again, it's hard to mess up fries. The food available at The Bank - Citizen's Bank Park - is gourmet by comparison.
... The animated boards in the outfield that predated the newer screens found in today's ballparks. In 1970s technology they seemed to be spectacular. Today they would seem woefully outdated.
... Philadelphia Phil and Phyllis, the two colonial figures that stood in the outfield. Kind of a pair of mascots that served the Phillies prior to the arrival of the Phanatic, although they didn't do anything to fire up the fans or satisfy the kids - they were after all, made of fiberglass.
... The hike up the long concrete ramps when you sat in the cheap seats. It was good for a workout, but not so good if you were older or had a handicap.
Friday, September 03, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Cartoons in the Afternoon (and in the Morning too!)
Long ago and faraway, there was a time when kids had a vast selection of cartoons to choose from when they came home from school. When you turn on the TV today, where are the toons? With the exception of the Cartoon Network, and The Simpsons, The Family Guy, and King of the Hill (the last three seeming to be adult-oriented), there isn't much in the way of cartoons today.
Up through at least the late 70's - and probably later than that - the Philadelphia stations that fill the afternoons with their judge programs (Channel 29), and "talk" shows that should at least be on late at night (Channel 17 with their Maury and Steve Wilkos shows) once had the hours from 2:00 through 5:00 dedicated to entertaining kids. Parents knew when their kids came home from school, they were able to sit down to watch harmless programming. Add to that lineup the now-defunct WKBS, Channel 48, and they had their choice of many cartoon shows. They may not have gotten their homework done after school, but at least they weren't getting an eyeful of trash.
For the kids yet too young to go to school, there were programs in the AM too. Channel 6 - then WFIL TV - had both Sally Starr's Popeye Theater and the Happy the Clown programs. (It was alleged that Happy was a nasty fellow who would berate the kids during commercial breaks - obscenities included - then come back on the air full of smiles for the viewing audience. The source, a friend of my mother's, is pretty reliable. She said she took her kids to be part of the peanut gallery one fine day, and would never bring them back). I don't believe the other two VHF stations had kids programming, but for at least an hour, the young ones had something to watch besides Good Morning America.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
... Dr. Don Rose, the DJ from then-popular AM top-40s station WFIL, keeping kiddies occupied during commercial breaks with his cornball quips on Channel 48. Along with various cartoons, this station also broadcast the Our Gang/Little Rascals comedies of the 30s and 40s.
... Looney Toons filling a good part of the afternoon on WTAF-TV, Channel 29.
... Wee Willie Webber, the uncle-like moderator of programs on WPHL-17. Mr. Webber recently passed away, another icon of my childhood now gone.
Up through at least the late 70's - and probably later than that - the Philadelphia stations that fill the afternoons with their judge programs (Channel 29), and "talk" shows that should at least be on late at night (Channel 17 with their Maury and Steve Wilkos shows) once had the hours from 2:00 through 5:00 dedicated to entertaining kids. Parents knew when their kids came home from school, they were able to sit down to watch harmless programming. Add to that lineup the now-defunct WKBS, Channel 48, and they had their choice of many cartoon shows. They may not have gotten their homework done after school, but at least they weren't getting an eyeful of trash.
For the kids yet too young to go to school, there were programs in the AM too. Channel 6 - then WFIL TV - had both Sally Starr's Popeye Theater and the Happy the Clown programs. (It was alleged that Happy was a nasty fellow who would berate the kids during commercial breaks - obscenities included - then come back on the air full of smiles for the viewing audience. The source, a friend of my mother's, is pretty reliable. She said she took her kids to be part of the peanut gallery one fine day, and would never bring them back). I don't believe the other two VHF stations had kids programming, but for at least an hour, the young ones had something to watch besides Good Morning America.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
... Dr. Don Rose, the DJ from then-popular AM top-40s station WFIL, keeping kiddies occupied during commercial breaks with his cornball quips on Channel 48. Along with various cartoons, this station also broadcast the Our Gang/Little Rascals comedies of the 30s and 40s.
... Looney Toons filling a good part of the afternoon on WTAF-TV, Channel 29.
... Wee Willie Webber, the uncle-like moderator of programs on WPHL-17. Mr. Webber recently passed away, another icon of my childhood now gone.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Summer in the City - Fun Under the Fire Plug
Here we are, more than halfway through July already. Summer seems to take forever to get here and it quickly goes by. If you haven't noticed, you can see that we're slowly losing sunlight at the end of the day, something that naturally happens once the solstice comes in late June.
One other thing I've noticed is that it isn't like it used to be on the streets. As I said in my ode to summer last year (see http://phillymemories.blogspot.com/2008/08/close-door-youre-letting-cold-air-out.html) back in the 60s and 70s when we were growing up, we were out from midday through as late as our parents would let us stay out. We didn't hang around the house.
Getting back to fresh stuff - you don't want me telling you about what I wrote last summer - one of the things I hardly see anymore are kids getting soaked under the fire plug. For those of you scratching your heads, that's what is called a fire hydrant. When summer came around, we could not wait to find someone who had a hydrant wrench and could open the plug for us. Once they had it opened, they'd hide it in someone's house and we'd all have some fun for an hour or so, or as long as we could before the cops would come and turn the water off. And this wasn't with a sprinkler rig attached, this was with the fire plug opened full bore! The only thing close to a sprinkler in those days was someone pressing their butt up against the opening and causing the water to fan out in every direction. The only friction we'd ever get besides the cops was a neighbor who would complain (maybe he called the police) and said that the water would flood his basement. Every kid on the block and from other blocks would be out there having fun.
Somewhere in the 80s, someone got the idea that it wasn't a good thing for kids to be doing such things. It was easy to say that it didn't matter, that we were adults and there were more important things to do than play at the fireplug. But still, a part of our heritage started to disappear. Kids were told that it created a danger for firefighters because the pressure dropped low when the hydrant was opened. Why not use one of those sprinkler caps instead? You could get them at the local firehouse and no one would have to worry ever again about low pressure or water levels in a drought year or kids getting swept under car tires by the tremendous pressure of the hydrant. Hey, we never met one kid who that happened to, but then again we would always open them on side streets like our own Chadwick Street, not on the more well-traveled streets like Shunk Street or Oregon Avenue. We did have common sense! But still, the Eighties were the beginning of the end for that summer ritual of cooling down with water that didn't pass through the meter at home and everyone enjoyed.
This summer, I think I've seek kids using the sprinkler cap on a fire plug all of one time. Not once did I see a fully opened hydrant. Granted, it hasn't been a very hot summer like most are (please explain, global warming advocates), but it's been warm enough to go out in the street and get wet. Where are the kids at? Parents, let your kids go out and have some fun! I've been thinking about posting this for a week or so, then my brother who lives in Blackwood, NJ was telling me today that he doesn't see any kids around on the street, let alone under a hydrant. I just knew I had to post this. Anyhow, he said something that makes sense. When kids of today get older, what are they going to talk about when they reminisce about their childhood? "Hey, remember summer, when we got out of school and..." And what? And waited for the back-to-school sales in August so we could buy our pencils and copy books and uniforms? Get out there and do something already! You've got approximately six weeks left before the bell rings again. Go out and find someone with a wrench and have some fun, or do what some of the kids did and one out of a pipe wrench and section of pipe. If someone asks what you think you're doing, tell them an old coot with a blog told you it would be a fun thing to do. Just hide the wrench so they don't take it away and you can turn the hydrant on again when they leave.
One other thing I've noticed is that it isn't like it used to be on the streets. As I said in my ode to summer last year (see http://phillymemories.blogspot.com/2008/08/close-door-youre-letting-cold-air-out.html) back in the 60s and 70s when we were growing up, we were out from midday through as late as our parents would let us stay out. We didn't hang around the house.
Getting back to fresh stuff - you don't want me telling you about what I wrote last summer - one of the things I hardly see anymore are kids getting soaked under the fire plug. For those of you scratching your heads, that's what is called a fire hydrant. When summer came around, we could not wait to find someone who had a hydrant wrench and could open the plug for us. Once they had it opened, they'd hide it in someone's house and we'd all have some fun for an hour or so, or as long as we could before the cops would come and turn the water off. And this wasn't with a sprinkler rig attached, this was with the fire plug opened full bore! The only thing close to a sprinkler in those days was someone pressing their butt up against the opening and causing the water to fan out in every direction. The only friction we'd ever get besides the cops was a neighbor who would complain (maybe he called the police) and said that the water would flood his basement. Every kid on the block and from other blocks would be out there having fun.
Somewhere in the 80s, someone got the idea that it wasn't a good thing for kids to be doing such things. It was easy to say that it didn't matter, that we were adults and there were more important things to do than play at the fireplug. But still, a part of our heritage started to disappear. Kids were told that it created a danger for firefighters because the pressure dropped low when the hydrant was opened. Why not use one of those sprinkler caps instead? You could get them at the local firehouse and no one would have to worry ever again about low pressure or water levels in a drought year or kids getting swept under car tires by the tremendous pressure of the hydrant. Hey, we never met one kid who that happened to, but then again we would always open them on side streets like our own Chadwick Street, not on the more well-traveled streets like Shunk Street or Oregon Avenue. We did have common sense! But still, the Eighties were the beginning of the end for that summer ritual of cooling down with water that didn't pass through the meter at home and everyone enjoyed.
This summer, I think I've seek kids using the sprinkler cap on a fire plug all of one time. Not once did I see a fully opened hydrant. Granted, it hasn't been a very hot summer like most are (please explain, global warming advocates), but it's been warm enough to go out in the street and get wet. Where are the kids at? Parents, let your kids go out and have some fun! I've been thinking about posting this for a week or so, then my brother who lives in Blackwood, NJ was telling me today that he doesn't see any kids around on the street, let alone under a hydrant. I just knew I had to post this. Anyhow, he said something that makes sense. When kids of today get older, what are they going to talk about when they reminisce about their childhood? "Hey, remember summer, when we got out of school and..." And what? And waited for the back-to-school sales in August so we could buy our pencils and copy books and uniforms? Get out there and do something already! You've got approximately six weeks left before the bell rings again. Go out and find someone with a wrench and have some fun, or do what some of the kids did and one out of a pipe wrench and section of pipe. If someone asks what you think you're doing, tell them an old coot with a blog told you it would be a fun thing to do. Just hide the wrench so they don't take it away and you can turn the hydrant on again when they leave.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Remembering Harry Kalas
It's never good news when an anchor breaks in to regularly-scheduled programming with a special report. A major accident, a school shooting, the death of a world leader or a legend. This afternoon, a legend passed away, and of the Phillies organization and it's fans, indeed, the entire Major League Baseball world, took a shot to the stomach that will be difficult - if impossible - to recover from.
Harry Kalas, longtime broadcaster of Phillies games, died in Washington, D.C., after being found collapsed in the broadcast booth before the start of the Washington Nationals home opener against the Phils. For me, it's impossible to write a blog about my memories growing up in Philly and not remember Harry Kalas, as my memories of him and of the Phillies go back almost as long as my lifetime itself.
The year 1971 was a banner year in Philadelphia. It was the year the Phillies moved from their North Philadelphia home of Connie Mack Stadium to their brand-new digs named Veterans Stadium, or The Vet to it's many fans and detractors. Along with their move to the new stadium came the addition of a new broadcaster to the ranks of two other legends in the field, Richie Ashburn and By Saam.
That very same year was the year that I was introduced to the game of baseball, and I've been fascinated with it ever since. Most young boys are made aware of sports by their fathers, but my Dad wasn't a sports fan. The only time he ever got near a game was when someone gave him tickets. Even then, they had to be good seats, no general admission or reserved seating. Dad's only business of going to see the Phils play was just that - business. He'd get tickets from various car dealers and sit an discuss the business of auto loans with them or kick back a few beers, forget that a game was going on before him. When The Vet added deluxe boxes, it was a boom to my brother and I. If Dad got tickets for any other seating, Mark and I would get to see a game and often, those tickets got us down to the Field Box seats along the first base line. That was okay with us, we had no business in the deluxe boxes anyhow. All the action occurred where the regular folks were, down below. So at the age of nine, Mom took us to our first Phillies game, and taught us baseball. Mom's a long-time Phillies fan, and to this day will spend an afternoon telling anyone who will listen about the 1950's Whiz Kids and her experiences at the games. Her favorite still is pitcher Robin Roberts, and it's guaranteed she'll beam a smile whenever she sees him on TV at a Phillies alumni game or some other special event.
I never got to hear Bill Campbell call a game. He was gone just before I started to understand why nine guys on a diamond smacked around a small ball with a wooden stick. I found out later that replacing him was a very unpopular move in this city that treats sports figures as idols, but that man who replaced him, Harry Kalas, didn't take long to endear himself to the fans here. His unmistakable voice and the way he called the games caught on quickly. And that's what hurts, knowing that the news we heard today will impact us forever. No more "struck him out", no more "outta here...!" No one will ever call the games like Harry, but then, that's the way it is with originals. They're sometimes imitated, but never duplicated.
What was great was that Harry called every game with enthusiasm, whether we had a winning team or not. My formative baseball years were during the era of manager Frank Lucchesi, when the home team couldn't seem to buy a win. But Harry kept the fans attention and we saw things improve during the reign of Danny Ozark. It was during his tenure that my brother and I saw the Phils clench their first-ever division title (in our lifetime), and we really started to understand the thrill of baseball. I remember Mark exclaiming, "Hey, Harry Kalas is crying!" when we took the division, not understanding until then how emotional baseball can be, for winners and losers alike. Since that game in 1975, we've shared two World Series victories with Harry and the guys in the booth, and a few attempts as well.
This afternoon, after watching the pre-game show on Comcast SportsNet dedicated to Harry, I watched the first-ever post-Kalas Phillies game. Sure there were other games in the past where he missed broadcasting, like last season when he was out for a few games recovering from eye surgery, but to know that ever game from here on in will be called without him in the booth leaves an awfully big hole that can't be filled. Just like it was eleven years ago with the death of Whitey Ashburn, the Phils lose a legend in broadcasting, and us fans mourn. It was said during the game today that many thought that Harry Kalas never recovered from the loss of Richie Ashburn. Lifelong Phillies fans still miss Whitey. But as much as we do, losing Harry Kalas seems harder still. We know we've been blessed with him calling thirty-eight years worth of games. And we grieve at the thought of him calling them nevermore.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Easter Ducks
Kids have far more fun on holidays than adults do. By the time we've hit our thirties, we've exhausted all of the simple ways of having a good time and we find the burdens of life weighing down on us. Most of you will probably look back on past Christmases, Easters, and other holidays and have a number of memories that will keep you smiling for the rest of your lives.
For a few years, we really looked forward to Easter coming. And that anticipation was for one simple reason - ducks! For a few years, every Easter season, my brother's godmother would bring us a gift of a couple of small ducks for us to have as pets. The birds were past the point of being chicks and were just starting to grow. For not being able to catch a ball or play with certain pet toys, they were really fun to have, especially for kids who still had some time yet before the teen years came upon us, when our interests shifted to different things. Anyway, some kids got rabbit, but we were the only ones who had ducks, which made us unique and all the other kids around the block thought it was cool. They wanted to come by and see them and pet them, and maybe some adults had thoughts of eating them - or not - who knows?
One thing we found out with experience is that ducks get too big for pets when you have only a small concrete patch for a yard and no where to house them. As they grew, the ducks sometimes escaped from the back yard because one of us would leave the gate open and give them their freedom. Once, the lady who ran the variety store around the corner, Mrs. Lenore, came running to our house and had my mom run with her back to the store. The birds made their way down the alley, waddled a few feet down Oregon Avenue, and up the two steps into Mrs. Lenore's store. My mom calmed her down and took the two of them back home and secured them, nervously waiting for us to again leave a gate opened, or give them some other way to get away again.
(See http://phillymemories.blogspot.com/2006/03/remembering-mrs-lenores-old.html)
Because ducks get too big as pets, we never had them longer than mid-summer. As they got too large to keep around, my grandfather would make arrangements for someone to take them "to the farm". We would take my parents word that the birds were going to some nice place to pleasantly live out the rest of their lives, as it would be much better for them than risk seeing them run into traffic or have something else happen to them. What my brother and sister and I wondered secretly is whether they were going to Shady Acres (or whatever nice name you want to give the "farm"), or if they were going to end up as someone's dinner. Probably they did find a nice home, but we had a curious suspicion of things like this.
After maybe three years of having ducks at Easter, my mom asked that my brother's godmother no longer bring them. As much as we were grateful for them, she knew we were heartbroken because the ducks would be gone in just a few months, and she didn't want to see us disappointed again. And so, that ended having any kind of birds as pets. A few years later, we'd get our first dog, but until then, we'd have to enjoy the memories of these waddling birds running around and pecking us.
For a few years, we really looked forward to Easter coming. And that anticipation was for one simple reason - ducks! For a few years, every Easter season, my brother's godmother would bring us a gift of a couple of small ducks for us to have as pets. The birds were past the point of being chicks and were just starting to grow. For not being able to catch a ball or play with certain pet toys, they were really fun to have, especially for kids who still had some time yet before the teen years came upon us, when our interests shifted to different things. Anyway, some kids got rabbit, but we were the only ones who had ducks, which made us unique and all the other kids around the block thought it was cool. They wanted to come by and see them and pet them, and maybe some adults had thoughts of eating them - or not - who knows?
One thing we found out with experience is that ducks get too big for pets when you have only a small concrete patch for a yard and no where to house them. As they grew, the ducks sometimes escaped from the back yard because one of us would leave the gate open and give them their freedom. Once, the lady who ran the variety store around the corner, Mrs. Lenore, came running to our house and had my mom run with her back to the store. The birds made their way down the alley, waddled a few feet down Oregon Avenue, and up the two steps into Mrs. Lenore's store. My mom calmed her down and took the two of them back home and secured them, nervously waiting for us to again leave a gate opened, or give them some other way to get away again.
(See http://phillymemories.blogspot.com/2006/03/remembering-mrs-lenores-old.html)
Because ducks get too big as pets, we never had them longer than mid-summer. As they got too large to keep around, my grandfather would make arrangements for someone to take them "to the farm". We would take my parents word that the birds were going to some nice place to pleasantly live out the rest of their lives, as it would be much better for them than risk seeing them run into traffic or have something else happen to them. What my brother and sister and I wondered secretly is whether they were going to Shady Acres (or whatever nice name you want to give the "farm"), or if they were going to end up as someone's dinner. Probably they did find a nice home, but we had a curious suspicion of things like this.
After maybe three years of having ducks at Easter, my mom asked that my brother's godmother no longer bring them. As much as we were grateful for them, she knew we were heartbroken because the ducks would be gone in just a few months, and she didn't want to see us disappointed again. And so, that ended having any kind of birds as pets. A few years later, we'd get our first dog, but until then, we'd have to enjoy the memories of these waddling birds running around and pecking us.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Close the Door, You're Letting the Cold Air Out!
Summertime! Admit it. When you were a kid, you couldn't wait for it. If you were like me, you counted down the days before summer vacation, and dreaded the final days of August when our summer came to a close. Not the official summer of the calendar, but the one that left when the school doors opened again. Then it was time to face the yardstick-wielding nuns again for another nine months and wait once again, for June to roll around.
Back in the 60s and 70s, we were fortunate to have air conditioning to cool the living room, but hardly any of our parents had frigid air in their bedrooms. You could forget about the kids rooms being chilled. On the hottest of nights, my father would let us run the air downstairs to stay cool. He slept on the couch, my brother, sister, and I were relegated to the living room floor. Hey, it was carpeted and we spread our bed sheets across it to prevent rug burn. Even my mom slept on the floor. What did we expect? Dad had his chair that no one could sit in when he was home, why would we think we'd sleep on the sofa in his presence?
If the night wasn't too hot, surely Dad wasn't going to spend good money running the AC through all hours. We'd have to do with an old steel fan with openings in the guard large enough to put your hand through. Fans like that would be banned as safety hazards today. The one my brother and I had in our room was dark green, and looked like it was a relic from some military barracks.
Kids don't know how good they have it. I hardly ever hear kids say that it's too hot anymore. Maybe that's because I hardly ever see kids on the streets during the hot weather. Hey, come summer, we were all out from morning until our parents made us come in. We made the most of every minute. It was OUR summer. Even the older folks stayed out late and sat in their beach chairs and talked all night. I remember my parents used to sit with a number of the neighbors across the street and order pizza from DeFabio's (used to be at 12th & Snyder) about twice a week and just sit and talk. Man, that socialization is disappearing from South Philly. No one spends that quality time anymore, or maybe I'm missing it somewhere. If you remember your mom or dad yelling, "Close the door, you're letting the cold air out!", you know what I mean. They used to worry that the "parlor" (another word that seems to have fallen from the lexicon) would get too hot if you kept the front door open for longer than five or six seconds. Now, hey, we all have air, and no one thinks at all about it. Long live the dog days of summer!
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...your parents telling you that it used to be so safe, they could sleep on the step at night, or at least leave the door unlocked. I don't know, I think I'd rather sleep on the living room floor than on the concrete.
...when the weatherMAN used to tell you it was hot, and gave you the temperature and humidity. No "heat index", at least none that I remember. And no weatherbabes, just guys in suits who looked like you and me. Not that I've got something for guys in suits mind you (surely my wife will vouch for me), but as the characters on Saturday Night Live used to say years ago, "That's the way it was, and we liked it!" The weatherman told you about the weather, not leered at you, looking like some today who seem close to lunging into your living room.
Back in the 60s and 70s, we were fortunate to have air conditioning to cool the living room, but hardly any of our parents had frigid air in their bedrooms. You could forget about the kids rooms being chilled. On the hottest of nights, my father would let us run the air downstairs to stay cool. He slept on the couch, my brother, sister, and I were relegated to the living room floor. Hey, it was carpeted and we spread our bed sheets across it to prevent rug burn. Even my mom slept on the floor. What did we expect? Dad had his chair that no one could sit in when he was home, why would we think we'd sleep on the sofa in his presence?
If the night wasn't too hot, surely Dad wasn't going to spend good money running the AC through all hours. We'd have to do with an old steel fan with openings in the guard large enough to put your hand through. Fans like that would be banned as safety hazards today. The one my brother and I had in our room was dark green, and looked like it was a relic from some military barracks.
Kids don't know how good they have it. I hardly ever hear kids say that it's too hot anymore. Maybe that's because I hardly ever see kids on the streets during the hot weather. Hey, come summer, we were all out from morning until our parents made us come in. We made the most of every minute. It was OUR summer. Even the older folks stayed out late and sat in their beach chairs and talked all night. I remember my parents used to sit with a number of the neighbors across the street and order pizza from DeFabio's (used to be at 12th & Snyder) about twice a week and just sit and talk. Man, that socialization is disappearing from South Philly. No one spends that quality time anymore, or maybe I'm missing it somewhere. If you remember your mom or dad yelling, "Close the door, you're letting the cold air out!", you know what I mean. They used to worry that the "parlor" (another word that seems to have fallen from the lexicon) would get too hot if you kept the front door open for longer than five or six seconds. Now, hey, we all have air, and no one thinks at all about it. Long live the dog days of summer!
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...your parents telling you that it used to be so safe, they could sleep on the step at night, or at least leave the door unlocked. I don't know, I think I'd rather sleep on the living room floor than on the concrete.
...when the weatherMAN used to tell you it was hot, and gave you the temperature and humidity. No "heat index", at least none that I remember. And no weatherbabes, just guys in suits who looked like you and me. Not that I've got something for guys in suits mind you (surely my wife will vouch for me), but as the characters on Saturday Night Live used to say years ago, "That's the way it was, and we liked it!" The weatherman told you about the weather, not leered at you, looking like some today who seem close to lunging into your living room.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
The Old Center City Theatres - Group Participation Time!
Inga Saffron's article in the Inquirer this morning about the Boyd Theater brought back some memories today. If you missed it, you can read the story at the Philly.com site. Most of us remember this place being called the Sameric, both before it became a multiplex and before it's demise. It was a grand place - still is, though without moviegoers and movies - much grander than the sterile boxes that you go to today. Now it sits vacant on Chestnut Street with many hoping that someone will purchase it and save it as is.
I wrote about the South Philly theaters back in May of 2006. That piece is archived here (see the archives list and select May 2006, Going to the Movies...). Let's move a bit farther north now. For those of you forty years of age on up, you'll most likely remember all the movie houses in Center City west of Broad Street that are long gone with the development of skyscrapers like the One and Two Liberty Place complex and others. Many of us spent a lot of time in those theaters. Like so many other things, nothing lasts forever. Now, if you want to see a flick in Center City, your choices are limited to the Ritz Theaters and the Roxy Screening Room. The only place to go for standard fare now for those in South Philly and Center City is the Riverfront on Columbus Blvd.
Doing some mental gymnastics today, I remembered around a dozen of those theaters between Broad Street and 20th, Walnut and Market Streets. And I remembered most - but not all - of their names. So, not being one to pass up on memories or having someone help me refresh those that I've forgotten, you can participate in listing the names of those movie houses. Let's see how many you can name and if y0u can tell me where they were located. No cheating! See if you can do it from freeing up what's in your gray matter. I'll be waiting for your reply. I've named ten of them, I know there were at least a couple more, and I'm wondering if there were some that I had not heard of that you may have. Make it interesting too. Tell us of something fun or interesting that you remember from when you went to the shows.
What's the prize? There is no tangible reward, but you get to share in the memories with me. That should make it worth your while. I'll look forward to your comments.
I wrote about the South Philly theaters back in May of 2006. That piece is archived here (see the archives list and select May 2006, Going to the Movies...). Let's move a bit farther north now. For those of you forty years of age on up, you'll most likely remember all the movie houses in Center City west of Broad Street that are long gone with the development of skyscrapers like the One and Two Liberty Place complex and others. Many of us spent a lot of time in those theaters. Like so many other things, nothing lasts forever. Now, if you want to see a flick in Center City, your choices are limited to the Ritz Theaters and the Roxy Screening Room. The only place to go for standard fare now for those in South Philly and Center City is the Riverfront on Columbus Blvd.
Doing some mental gymnastics today, I remembered around a dozen of those theaters between Broad Street and 20th, Walnut and Market Streets. And I remembered most - but not all - of their names. So, not being one to pass up on memories or having someone help me refresh those that I've forgotten, you can participate in listing the names of those movie houses. Let's see how many you can name and if y0u can tell me where they were located. No cheating! See if you can do it from freeing up what's in your gray matter. I'll be waiting for your reply. I've named ten of them, I know there were at least a couple more, and I'm wondering if there were some that I had not heard of that you may have. Make it interesting too. Tell us of something fun or interesting that you remember from when you went to the shows.
What's the prize? There is no tangible reward, but you get to share in the memories with me. That should make it worth your while. I'll look forward to your comments.
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