Summer Nights: When Neighbors Sat Out and Talked to Each Other

I'm going with something new for this week's post. Thinking back on how things once were gave me the motivation to write something about the way things were. 
B.B.
 
You would never know it today, but there was once a time when we sat outside in the evenings and talked with neighbors. Never mind sitting inside in the air-conditioning and watching TV all night. There wasn't that much on with summer reruns and cable TV was in it's infancy back in the 70s. We were the test area for the city in this area of South Philly, so we had more choices. But it wasn't that much more, just two stations from NYC and no need for an antenna. Premium channels came later. Nor were there home computers, smart phones, or  gaming systems. Things were much simpler and the only things people were addicted to were drugs and alcohol, not electronics. Someone might have a radio with the ballgame on, but the conversation still dominated the times outside.
 
Back during those times, you could often find your neighbors outside during the evening hours, and even later at night during the weekends. Some would be sitting on their front steps, while others had beach chairs that sat in the living room by day and came out after dinnertime.And yes we even sat out on nights with heat and humidity. Once fall came, those beach chairs would be stowed away in the basement until the next year when they were dusted or hosed off when the next summer came around.

Walking down the street, you would sometimes have to go around a group of neighbors sitting in a gaggle in front of someone's home. There may be two or three on the steps, and another few sitting in chairs on the sidewalks. Everyone was friendly: If you were walking down a block that was unfamiliar to you, you would more-than likely get a smile and a hello from those you'd see outside.

The pizza joints were always busy in the summer. Neighbors often ordered a couple of pies, pitching-in together or someone feeling generous and bought for everyone. And so we sat out having slices, even later at night. One of our favorites was the now long-gone DiFabio's Pizza and bread bakers on the 1200 block of Snyder Avenue. When they closed, the Pizza Shack became the new go-to place for us, especially since they were just a block away. We had one neighbor who worked for Coca-Cola so there was never a lack of something to drink as long as it was a Coke product. And age didn't matter. The kids and the older folks got along and got together.

It's a lot different today. From my younger years, I knew most of the neighbors by name and was friendly with most. Not everyone - there were some neighbors who were too busy to socialize or  just not the sociable-type. In a block where there's fifty or more homes, its impossible to know everyone.  

There are so many new neighbors now. I've lived on this block most of my life with the exception of eight years after marriage when we bought a home in another neighborhood. My wife and I rented then sold it after my father passed away and my mother had difficulty going it alone. We moved back to be a help to her and things went well; no wife/mother-in-law conflict here. But much time has passed and many older neighbors have either moved on or passed away. Some down this end of the block have been here many years and we know each other well. There are a few long-time neighbors further further who you don't see much because they're inside more often than not, which is how it's been for me lately.

People have got to make time to know each other. In the spring and summer, I sit out when I can and try to greet new neighbors when I see them. It doesn't take much effort to say hello and to introduce yourself. Some are very friendly. I know of one younger woman who's new to the block and always stops to talk with my wife and I, and another man who I rarely see but is always cordial when I do see him. But there have been those who seem to come and go and not care to make acquaintance or conversation. 

Maybe we should get back to the old block party as a way to get to know each other as much as for some fun. We had them decades ago and they went well because everyone knew each other. Perhaps having them as a way of introduction would work well. Hey, we live in homes that are butted up against each other. Let's get to know the people that we live on the block with and not just exist with them.

AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...

    * Kids irritating some of the older neighbors on the block, playing football or dinky and them complaining that you were going to break a window or other damage. I remember one man - the Coke man mentioned earlier - who yelled that we could hurt someone and should go to the park, but we told him that it was just a Nerf football and it was safe. Not five minutes later, my cousin punted and hit him in the back of the head. Then he really read us the riot act. Still, things would calm down quickly and we'd be playing in the street again. Until the next time.

     * When neighbors took up a collection for flowers when another one died. No one would ever think about them holding back on some of the cash. The flowers were always there at the funeral home or delivered to the home of the deceased person's family.

     * You'd have to be a really long-time neighbor, remembering when Ray "Pole" angered neighbors by painting "yard lines" (no one knew what he really measured) in the street for football games, or casting his fishing line down the block and hitting some cars with its sinkers, maddening car owners. Ray was about six-foot-seven and skinny; earning him the nickname. A military son who didn't spend much time in one place, he often did odd things to try to make friends. Sadly, Ray died in a jail cell, hanging himself after a minor arrest. True or not, it's said that he had only two inches between his feet and the cell floor. It should never have happened. He was a really nice guy.

     * Neighbors banding together in 1976 before the Bicentennial, painting anything available - fire hydrants, poles, the street, manhole covers - either red, white, and blue or with things like the Liberty Bell and American flags. The whole city seemed to be covered in Americana.

     * Everyone remembers when neighbors took pride in their block and kept it almost spotless. The housewives of the day would be outside on many mornings with a bucketful of ammonia and water, cleaning the steps and sidewalk after sweeping up the grime. Now people come out once a tear on a Saturday that the city designates.

     * You'll have to talk with someone much older than I am about sleeping outside on summer nights or going to bed without locking the doors, but I've been told often that it's the way things were done in the days before AC.

Remembering Neighborhood Characters - Guy Sommobeech

In the movie "The Boys in Company C", there was a character named Alvin Foster who was writing a journal about his Marine Corps experience during the war in Vietnam. Narrating the movie, Foster's character says something to the tune of "...but who would believe it" when pondering the content of that journal.

That's the way it is in South Philly. There are so many characters doing many strange things, it makes you wonder "who would believe it" if should you tell someone about it. Yet everything I write here is true. Maybe a few of the details are fuzzy, but it's all true.

One of those unusual characters we grew up experiencing was a person who came to be known as "Guy Sommobeech". Guy was an elderly man, maybe late 70s or early 80s when I first saw him on the street. He was always dressed in a long black rain coat, whether you saw him on a December winter's day or a warm one in May. His expression never changed, walking upright, face-forward and never a smile. You probably wouldn't have even thought twice about him if you saw him on the street. Just an old guy who walked his dog every night down the same few blocks. I never thought twice. Not until one evening when...

My first encounter with Guy was while we were hanging on the corner at 17th & Oregon, back when Uncle Virgie had retired and the abandoned luncheonette still stood around the mid-1970s. The owner turned it into an arcade until either neighbors prevailed in having it closed because of nuisance or Virgie's daughter sold it (depending on who's story was correct). One evening, sitting there with my brother, sister, a friend Kevin, and a few others, Kevin says, "Hey, here comes Guy Sommobeech". Now anyone with common sense just knows that this isn't the man's real name, so I had to ask why they called him that. As Guy and his aging mutt approached, Kevin tells me to reach out and pet the dog and I would see why. Alright, that seemed harmless enough. So sure enough, I reached for the pooch.

"Sommobeech! Sommobeech!" yelled ol' Guy. You would have thought someone had attempted to reach out and steal the man's life savings. With fiery rage in his eyes  (hey, his expression changed!)  he screamed those memorable words, swinging at me in a swaying motion, twisting his upper body in a right to left arc and back again in somewhat comic form. Most likely, the only person in danger of getting hurt that evening was Guy himself. He could have bruised his own ribs or did something else to his aging body. I've never seen a man swing in that way at someone before or since that incident.

If someone did that today, the other person might connect with him, and that connection would be physical rather than social. It doesn't take much to cause someone to throw a punch - or fire a weapon for that matter - even towards an elderly man. For a few years afterward, Guy would continue to walk the dog passed us. It was the same routine every evening +in the same black rain coat. Then, as all aging folks do, he disappeared; no longer to be seen again.

I was never compelled to bother with him again. Not that I was eager to the first time. If I wasn't egged on to pet the dog, he would be just another person walking down the street. After all, who wants to be responsible for an older man hurting himself for no good reason? I didn't feel the need to mess with him, but there's always someone. Take, for example, Kevin's nephew David.

Apparently, Guy did the same thing to David, swinging and screaming at him. Different people react in different ways. Me? I see an man who's at the least upset and at the most disturbed. David, I guess saw a man who had payback coming to him. One evening, he approached my brother and me with a heavy-duty extension cord in his hand with the head cut of of it. Just a plug at one end, and two bare wires at the other. David asks, "You guys want to come with me? I'm gonna electrify a fence and have Guy chase me into it. I'll duck, and he's gonna get jolted when he falls into it."

If I didn't believe it would fail, I would have steered clear of this craziness. David insisted it would work. Amused and curious, we had to see what he had in mind. So we took a walk to 18th & Oregon where the pipe company had a chain link fence on the Oregon Ave side before that land gave way first to the old Telesystems Cable TV building, and now the medical offices that have since replaced it. David took the cord, twisted the wires to the fence, and then ran the cord to the outdoor electrical outlet at the William Penn gas station on the corner. He figured Guy would be coming by soon, so now was the time to plug it in and wait. We watched. Having both positive and negative wires on the metal chain link, all he did was cause a short-circuit, and caused the lights in the gas station to go out. Guy would live to see many more days.

AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...

• The Sinclair gas station with it's green and white Dino the Dinosaur logo at 18th & Oregon (later BP, later William Penn, now a Dunkin Donuts).

• Various characters from the streets of South Philly including:
  Duck Lady, "Camoflage" Man, 40's Woman, to name a few. They'll make an appearance here sooner or later.

If you live in the city, I'm sure you had a few colorful character son your block or in your neighborhood, too!

Originally posted: March 27. 2006