Mr. Bob Burns (not to be confused with the late Lynyrd Skynyrd drummer) was one of the more visible characters here in South Philly, and he seemed to be everywhere. No, not at one time, but he got around. Bob was a local fixture who was a homeless man. He had an affection for quart bottles of beer before 40s became the size of choice for those who may find beer to be their sole reason to exist. You could find Bob and his quart sitting in the doorway of just about any business around, whether it be on Oregon Ave, Shunk St., West Passyunk Ave., Broad Street, Snyder Ave., wherever. His constant traveling companion was a guy the kids called "Drunken Joe" who lived on Bancroft before his passing. Bob and Joe would just sit for hours drinking their beer and discussing the critical issues of the day. Make that the issues were critical to them. Those issues may have been serious, but they probably centered around - what else? - beer. We'll never really know.
A few years ago, my cousin and I were talking about the characters we knew from living in South Philly. The first name he came up with was Bob Burns, and he told me a humorous story I had not heard before.
It turns out there was one former West Passyunk Avenue auto parts store owner who liked to "help" Bob whenever possible. That meant Bob was going to be on the wrong end of a practical joke whenever he offered hos assistance. On cold nights, the business owner offered Mr. Burns the use of his store to get a good, safe, night's sleep and get cleaned up. That meant locking him in overnight. When he returned one morning, the businessman gave Bob a shave to tidy him up. Much to Bob's dismay, he "dropped" the razor down the heating duct after shaving half of his face. Of course, he didn't have another one. So Bob walked around South Philly for a few days with one side of his face having thicker stubble than the other, one side totally smooth for the day. No photo is known to exist of Bob after that semi-shave. This wasn't the first or last joke played at Bob's expense, but whether because he was desperate or because he lacked common sense, he kept coming back; for a while anyhow. During one of Bob's sleep-overs, he decided to defecate on the store floor rather than use the toilet. Some may say that he ruined a good thing, losing shelter. I'd say he got his revenge. I wouldn't want to be working the counter that day, or be the employee who had to clean up the mess. Whatever, someone had a bad day after that. It makes you wonder if they used copious amounts of Lysol or the store supply of the pine tree air fresheners to make working bearable that morning.
Bob Burns and Drunken Joe are long gone. They both exited somewhere mid-way through the 70s. Joe was found dead at home but Bob wasn't seen around anymore and presumed to have passed. As funny as the joke was, it's sad to see lives wasted that way.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
... The guy who would panhandle cars at Broad & Wolf while they waited for the light in the late 1990s through the start of the new millenium, asking for money to buy a hot dog. If he bought dogs with what he took in, his cholesterol level would probably be alarming. His nourishment usually came in the form of beer. I saw that guy in the Philadelphia Daily News, they caught a photo of him scouraging beer from half-empty bottles in the old Veterans Stadium parking lot after an Eagles game.
... The guy who couldn't keep his story straight. This young guy would hang in the area of Broad and Snyder looking for a handout. His problem was that he couldn't remember which name he used or who he talked to. He once introduced himself as Jimmy and asked for help with some cash so he could visit his ailing mother in Scranton. A few weeks later, he used the name Dominic and he had to get to Reading to visit his mom and was too broke for a bus ticket. Someone told me that he was a regular in the area and bought drugs with whatever he could get. As long as he's drug-addled, he's never going to get anything.
... Trying to help someone in need and regretting it. A friend once had a panhandler ask for money for food. He told him he didn't have spare cash, but would give up his brown-bag lunch if he wanted it. He said he would like that, took it, and went on his way. My friend looked back after walking a short distance to see his lunch being thrown into the sewer. So much for trying to do good for someone.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Saturday, August 24, 2019
Going To The Movies
Remember when people used to go to the movies almost weekly? Whether it was going on a date with that special person (or special for that week), or a night out with friends, so many of us had spent memorable times in the theaters. Many of us can remember specific events like first dates with someone who would become your spouse and having a favorite restaurant that you went to after rhe show was over (or before if you couldn't wait to eat). My wife and I often went to the old H.A. Winston's at 15th & Locust.
Back in the day, most of us here in Philly went to Center City to the vast selection of movie houses that dotted Chestnut Street and the are around it. Most of the were operated by two chains, Budco and Eric. There were a few independent theaters like Cinema 19 at 19th & Chestnut, but far and wide they were chain operated. And some of them were really grand palaces like the Sameric. With it's huge screen, art deco design, giant chandelier, and huge lobby, it was the granddaddy of movie houses. Many know it as the Boyd, the name that it opened as before the chains came. The area near 16th & Chestnut seemed to be the epicenter of Center City cinema entertainmant. You could find the Fox, Milgram, Stage Door, Trans Lux, and Eric's Place all in that tight area. The good thing was that no matter when you went, you could always find something that you wanted to see, even if you did go weekly. That's hard to say today.
Then the multiplexes came, and slowly the theaters were pushed out of Center City. One by one they disappeared to where rhere are just a few art movie houses left. New theaters opened in places like the riverfront on Columbus Boulevard. Or many South Philly residents would go across the bridge and into New Jersey where they didn't have to pay for parking. An era had ended and what we remember now was no more.
Now most people go to the movies sporadically. Netflix, Amazon, On-Demand viewing and the almost-dead DVD have made a trip to the movies an occasional diversion. Long gone VHS started that slide. When younger people see pictures of theaters as a crowded entertainment house, they may stare in awe at how many people were once patrons of the cinema.
This brings us to group participation time. What was your favorite memory or what was the last movie that you remember seeing "uptown", and in which theater did you see it in? Leave your comments below for all to share instead of on my Facebook timeline. Please keep the comments respectable for all to read.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...Sitting in the balcony. I remember seeing Vice Squad at the Goldman on 15th Street, just above Chestnut and across from City Hall. The place was filled to capacity and the balcony was open to handle the overflow. What seemed like a hostile crowd before the movie started soon became filled with laughs, especially when the guy sat up in the coffin and spooked some in the audience. Even those who were startled got a good chuckle when they recovered.
...Waiting in long lines for movie tickets. Back before you could order tickets online, if you wanted to see a blockbuster film on the weekend that it came out, you only had ine option: to stand in a line that went down and often around the block. Never a great thing in bad weather, but many would do it; easpecially for movies like Star Wars and films that had that type of selling power.
...Neighborhood theaters, those places where we paid a dollar or $1.50 to see a flick after they left the first-run theaters. Great for when funds were low or you and your friends were looking for something to do on a moment's notice. Unlike the uptown theaters, some of them haven't had a cleaning since the last generation and your feet often stuck to the floor, rodents sometimes ran across your feet, and the candy at the concession stand so hard you could break a tooth. The Colonial immediately comes to mind.
Back in the day, most of us here in Philly went to Center City to the vast selection of movie houses that dotted Chestnut Street and the are around it. Most of the were operated by two chains, Budco and Eric. There were a few independent theaters like Cinema 19 at 19th & Chestnut, but far and wide they were chain operated. And some of them were really grand palaces like the Sameric. With it's huge screen, art deco design, giant chandelier, and huge lobby, it was the granddaddy of movie houses. Many know it as the Boyd, the name that it opened as before the chains came. The area near 16th & Chestnut seemed to be the epicenter of Center City cinema entertainmant. You could find the Fox, Milgram, Stage Door, Trans Lux, and Eric's Place all in that tight area. The good thing was that no matter when you went, you could always find something that you wanted to see, even if you did go weekly. That's hard to say today.
Then the multiplexes came, and slowly the theaters were pushed out of Center City. One by one they disappeared to where rhere are just a few art movie houses left. New theaters opened in places like the riverfront on Columbus Boulevard. Or many South Philly residents would go across the bridge and into New Jersey where they didn't have to pay for parking. An era had ended and what we remember now was no more.
Now most people go to the movies sporadically. Netflix, Amazon, On-Demand viewing and the almost-dead DVD have made a trip to the movies an occasional diversion. Long gone VHS started that slide. When younger people see pictures of theaters as a crowded entertainment house, they may stare in awe at how many people were once patrons of the cinema.
This brings us to group participation time. What was your favorite memory or what was the last movie that you remember seeing "uptown", and in which theater did you see it in? Leave your comments below for all to share instead of on my Facebook timeline. Please keep the comments respectable for all to read.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...Sitting in the balcony. I remember seeing Vice Squad at the Goldman on 15th Street, just above Chestnut and across from City Hall. The place was filled to capacity and the balcony was open to handle the overflow. What seemed like a hostile crowd before the movie started soon became filled with laughs, especially when the guy sat up in the coffin and spooked some in the audience. Even those who were startled got a good chuckle when they recovered.
...Waiting in long lines for movie tickets. Back before you could order tickets online, if you wanted to see a blockbuster film on the weekend that it came out, you only had ine option: to stand in a line that went down and often around the block. Never a great thing in bad weather, but many would do it; easpecially for movies like Star Wars and films that had that type of selling power.
...Neighborhood theaters, those places where we paid a dollar or $1.50 to see a flick after they left the first-run theaters. Great for when funds were low or you and your friends were looking for something to do on a moment's notice. Unlike the uptown theaters, some of them haven't had a cleaning since the last generation and your feet often stuck to the floor, rodents sometimes ran across your feet, and the candy at the concession stand so hard you could break a tooth. The Colonial immediately comes to mind.
Saturday, August 17, 2019
The Rag Man
When you think of people who do their business on wheels, you probably picture a Ford Econoline or Chevy Van, maybe a Ford, Chevy, or Dodge pickup truck. You see them all over the streets of South Philly owned by plumbers, electricians, painters, maybe an occasional FBI surveillance team. The vans have evolved into higher walk-in types where you can fully stand instead of crouch. Great for someone who has a lot of work to do.
If you were born after the late 1960s, you probably don't remember when some guys did their business using a horse-drawn wagon or a push cart. But through at least the earliest of the 70s, they were out there.
This week's post remembers the Rag Man, also known as "Gitter-rags". Many of you who grew up in the era that I did spent your summers in the city rather than down the shore and you remember him. Looking at many Philadelphia-themed Facebook groups and individual posts, it seems that there were rag men all around the city. I can only write about my experiences with one, the man who worked our neighborhood.
Just about every week, there was a middle-aged black man who used to collect used rags and other junk from South Philadelphia residents a day before trash day. He'd ride up and down the blocks sitting at the front of his cart, pulled by a horse that looked to be well-cared for. You knew he was coming when yo heard his loud voice bellowing "gitta-raaaaaagggsss...gitta-raaaaaagggsss" to get the attention of the housewives on the block. There were more stay-at-home moms and less women in the working world at this time. And get their attention he did. Sure enough, when the Rag Man made his familiar call, some of the ladies would come out of their rowhomes, handing him things that were no longer wanted, but were probably a treasure to him. I don't know if he was self-employed or for some shop owner. Remembering from visiting my grandparents who lived around the corner, he would take what he collected to an old garage next to the Royal Villa Cafe (since replaced by a convenience store) at 17th & Jackson Street and unload there. Why would anyone collect rags you wonder? Rags can be recycled, just like many other things. They even can be used in the manufacture of paper. The dollar bill in your wallet is mostly rag content, although I don't think that in this case it came from the Rag Man's weekly pick-up.
The Rag Man was not to be messed with. Riding a horse-drawn cart, what tool of the trade did he employ besides a strong back and legs? You guessed it, a whip. Common sense says you don't give a guy with a whip a hard time. Yet most kids don't have much common sense. They haven't lived enough to accumulate it. Knuckleheads that we were growing up, we would often parrot the same "Gitter-raaaaaagggsss" refrain that he did. He never said a word to us when we did. But one day, the Rag Man blew a fuse. Either he couldn't take it anymore, someone said something stupid to him, or he just had a bad day. He bolted off the cart and came after my brother, or friend Chris, and I with that lash. The Mad Barber may not have been too quick running after us with the razor, but the Rag Man at had some speed. He cornered his tormenters at the front step across from our home and stood over us. And what did he do? He scared the daylights out of us. But besides admonishing us for taunting him every week, he walked away. Not a hair harmed, and not a word was ever again spoken in foolishness to that guy.
There are no ragmen today. The closest thing that we have is the city's recycling program. But they don't have horses and wagons or carry whips with them. Nothing to remember. The only thing that changes is the make and model of the trucks they drive, and over time, the paint scheme. Oh yeah, and they wake me up when the weather's nice and we sleep with the window open. Do you all have to start at 6:30 a.m. each week?
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...That you didn't get away with anything as a kid when it came to being disrespectful an older person. Either that person dealt with you, or your dad did. The wise decision was left to the father. I remember my dad said to a person who said he would kick my brother's rear if he messed with him again..."That's my son. He does you wrong, you bring him to me, and I'll kick his butt. You don't touch him, but I promise you; I will. If you do touch him, I'll kick your's and his." Point noted, for that man and us. Maybe more dads need to line up their shoe bottoms with their sons' bottoms today, or at least apply the paddle or belt (my dad's favorite). Not in an abusing way, but a correcting one. Some dads need to understand the difference. The more you see the disrespect of kids towards adults today, you wonder if their dads are administering any discipline to those punks.
My dad may have looked like he was too light to fight and too thin to win , but he wouldn't take any anything from anyone. Growing up in a family of ten kids and poor, he knew how to stand his ground.
...The folks who regulary cheated you. From the butcher to the produce guys with their fingers on the scale, to the kid in your class who tricked you out of a dollar or some change. Some people don't know how to be honest. .Someone once told me that you could bring bundles of newspaper to the same garage that the rag man worked out of to earn some pocket change. They paid so much a pound. Some kids would shove a lead window sash weight from the old wood-framed windows to take home extra cash. It worked, but not for long. After a short time, they started to check for them. How the first guys were able to do that is a mystery. The weights had to be heavier than any stack of papers. It should have been an easy catch.
...Finding a hand bell in your basement window if you lived on Chadwick St., 2600 block. Another of our vendors who propelled his cart with flesh & bone - his own - got angry with a guy we sometimes hung around with, Tommy B., over the quality of his pretzels. That pretzel man realized that hand bells made good missiles. What he didn't figure into it was the guidance system - him! He missed. Tommy ran away laughing, and a neighbor would return home from work finding his window smashed, the bell on the basement floor. I guess he had to shout for customers ubtil he bought a new bell, Either that, or went back later in the evening and paid for the window in exchange for the bell. Maybe he should have taken lessons on how to call the neighbors out from the Rag Man.
If you were born after the late 1960s, you probably don't remember when some guys did their business using a horse-drawn wagon or a push cart. But through at least the earliest of the 70s, they were out there.
This week's post remembers the Rag Man, also known as "Gitter-rags". Many of you who grew up in the era that I did spent your summers in the city rather than down the shore and you remember him. Looking at many Philadelphia-themed Facebook groups and individual posts, it seems that there were rag men all around the city. I can only write about my experiences with one, the man who worked our neighborhood.
Just about every week, there was a middle-aged black man who used to collect used rags and other junk from South Philadelphia residents a day before trash day. He'd ride up and down the blocks sitting at the front of his cart, pulled by a horse that looked to be well-cared for. You knew he was coming when yo heard his loud voice bellowing "gitta-raaaaaagggsss...gitta-raaaaaagggsss" to get the attention of the housewives on the block. There were more stay-at-home moms and less women in the working world at this time. And get their attention he did. Sure enough, when the Rag Man made his familiar call, some of the ladies would come out of their rowhomes, handing him things that were no longer wanted, but were probably a treasure to him. I don't know if he was self-employed or for some shop owner. Remembering from visiting my grandparents who lived around the corner, he would take what he collected to an old garage next to the Royal Villa Cafe (since replaced by a convenience store) at 17th & Jackson Street and unload there. Why would anyone collect rags you wonder? Rags can be recycled, just like many other things. They even can be used in the manufacture of paper. The dollar bill in your wallet is mostly rag content, although I don't think that in this case it came from the Rag Man's weekly pick-up.
The Rag Man was not to be messed with. Riding a horse-drawn cart, what tool of the trade did he employ besides a strong back and legs? You guessed it, a whip. Common sense says you don't give a guy with a whip a hard time. Yet most kids don't have much common sense. They haven't lived enough to accumulate it. Knuckleheads that we were growing up, we would often parrot the same "Gitter-raaaaaagggsss" refrain that he did. He never said a word to us when we did. But one day, the Rag Man blew a fuse. Either he couldn't take it anymore, someone said something stupid to him, or he just had a bad day. He bolted off the cart and came after my brother, or friend Chris, and I with that lash. The Mad Barber may not have been too quick running after us with the razor, but the Rag Man at had some speed. He cornered his tormenters at the front step across from our home and stood over us. And what did he do? He scared the daylights out of us. But besides admonishing us for taunting him every week, he walked away. Not a hair harmed, and not a word was ever again spoken in foolishness to that guy.
There are no ragmen today. The closest thing that we have is the city's recycling program. But they don't have horses and wagons or carry whips with them. Nothing to remember. The only thing that changes is the make and model of the trucks they drive, and over time, the paint scheme. Oh yeah, and they wake me up when the weather's nice and we sleep with the window open. Do you all have to start at 6:30 a.m. each week?
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...That you didn't get away with anything as a kid when it came to being disrespectful an older person. Either that person dealt with you, or your dad did. The wise decision was left to the father. I remember my dad said to a person who said he would kick my brother's rear if he messed with him again..."That's my son. He does you wrong, you bring him to me, and I'll kick his butt. You don't touch him, but I promise you; I will. If you do touch him, I'll kick your's and his." Point noted, for that man and us. Maybe more dads need to line up their shoe bottoms with their sons' bottoms today, or at least apply the paddle or belt (my dad's favorite). Not in an abusing way, but a correcting one. Some dads need to understand the difference. The more you see the disrespect of kids towards adults today, you wonder if their dads are administering any discipline to those punks.
My dad may have looked like he was too light to fight and too thin to win , but he wouldn't take any anything from anyone. Growing up in a family of ten kids and poor, he knew how to stand his ground.
...The folks who regulary cheated you. From the butcher to the produce guys with their fingers on the scale, to the kid in your class who tricked you out of a dollar or some change. Some people don't know how to be honest. .Someone once told me that you could bring bundles of newspaper to the same garage that the rag man worked out of to earn some pocket change. They paid so much a pound. Some kids would shove a lead window sash weight from the old wood-framed windows to take home extra cash. It worked, but not for long. After a short time, they started to check for them. How the first guys were able to do that is a mystery. The weights had to be heavier than any stack of papers. It should have been an easy catch.
...Finding a hand bell in your basement window if you lived on Chadwick St., 2600 block. Another of our vendors who propelled his cart with flesh & bone - his own - got angry with a guy we sometimes hung around with, Tommy B., over the quality of his pretzels. That pretzel man realized that hand bells made good missiles. What he didn't figure into it was the guidance system - him! He missed. Tommy ran away laughing, and a neighbor would return home from work finding his window smashed, the bell on the basement floor. I guess he had to shout for customers ubtil he bought a new bell, Either that, or went back later in the evening and paid for the window in exchange for the bell. Maybe he should have taken lessons on how to call the neighbors out from the Rag Man.
Saturday, August 10, 2019
Neighborhood Characters: The Duck Lady
There may be a million and one ways to mingle with people and not feel lonely in life. Everything from church groups for Christian folk to clubs for the dancing types and bingo for older folks who need something to do. And now in the electronic age, there are social media. News Flash: Most of the people that you interact with on Facebook, Instagram, and whatever aren't the true friends who will be there for you when you need them, Having 2,000 Facebook friends doesn't make for a full social life.
There was an elderly lady in the neighborhood who would use the funeral homes along south Broad Street either to socialize, just have something to do, or both. We called her Duck Lady. All you had to do is hear her speak once and you understood where the name came from. She had a voice like Donald Duck in the old Disney cartoons, and she spoke loudly so you heard her at the other end of the block. You knew it whenever the Duck Lady was around.
We would see her many times a week, yet there were only two memories I have of her. One is that she would often pull a shopping cart down the street on the way to the store. The other memory was that she would also visit the funeral homes every evening to pay respects to each person. From Stolfo to Monte to Grasso to Gangemi to Leonetti, she had them all covered. If Carto was there at the time, she would have been visiting there too. Whether she was shopping or mourning, she would always wear a black dress and veil. She first caught our notice at a family viewing. She said a prayer at the coffin and quietly gave her condolences, toning down that Duck Lady voice for a short time. But as she made her way to the rear of the funeral home, her volume increased to the voice that we came to know and,,, okay, just know. Maybe amused by. When we saw her again, the question of who she was came to everyone's mind. Someone mentioned, oh that's the Duck Lady and explained her visiting habits, and a neighborhood character was created.
I could see if she was a very sociable lady and had lots of friends who recently passed away. But here, the Duck Lady made the rounds every night. She would simply walk in, stay a few moments after paying respects, and off she'd go to the next one. I don't believe she attended the morning viewings just before departing for the churches and cemeteries, only the evening viewings. Still, there are wakes every night but I think on Saturday at those places, so she always had somewhere to go.
I think I can somewhat understand where she was coming from. Remembering when both of my maternal grandparents were coming to near the end of their lives, they were devastated that all of their friend had gone on before them. This put them in the unenviable position of surviving every one of them. They still had family to cling to, but their social fabric was irreparably torn, leaving them very lonely and friendless. When my grandfather's longtime friend died, he was actually angry about his passing. Angry that he never took him for the visit to his daghter's home as promised, upset that they would never again gather at the bocce courts at Guerin playground; but mostly just upset that his last remaining Italian-speaking friend was gone forever, leaving him feeling very lonely and aimless. It was the same with Grandmom. She was always having friends over for coffee and conversation and over time, there was less and less of them. For a lady in her nineties who remained active into her waning years, it was devastating for her. Some of us are going to be in the same position someday and it's not something to look forward to. We sometimes don't realize how important our friends are until they're no longer around to pick your day up.
The Duck Lady is long gone. I think she disappeared sometime in the early 1980s, most likely going the same route we all do in life. One has to wonder if her own viewing was well-attended. With all the wakes she walked into, you would think she had she gotten to know many people and it would have been standing room only at her own viewing. She may have actually had only a few family members or neighbors there. With her being such a figure on Broad Street, one of the funeral directors should have held her funeral at little or no cost. Well, that may be a stretch being funerals are so expensive. Okay, maybe they could have at least laid a plaque in the concrete sort of like they did around Broad & Spruce to honor Philly-area recording artists. There they have the names in stars embedded into the sidewalk. What could they use for this lady to remember her?
Where have all the characters gone? Walk down somewhere like South Broad today and you'll see the same old faces over and over, but they're characters aren't as defined as those we knew in our youth. We need more Duck Ladies to keep things interesting.
Appparently this isn't a local phenomenon. I saw a rerun of an old Good Times show some time ago. It was the episode where the character James Evans passed away. Near the end of the program, I can't remember if it were the preacher or funeral director, but someone had said good bye to an older woman and said they'd see her tomorrow - at yet another funeral. Was she a regular just like Duck Lady? Could it be the writer of that episode spent some time on Broad Street? The mind wonders. And wanders.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER (well, maybe a small few of us this time)...
*Going to confession at St. Monica's on a Saturday afternoon and raising the priest's ire. Rather than the usual standard "Bless me father for I have sinned, it's been 1,472 days since my last confession...", many of us who hung together took a shot at approaching and saying "Bless me father for I have sinned, I peeled a potato and ate the skin" and then ran out of the confessional. Some of the priests ran out after us, some never did, I guess they just sat there and shook their heads. What does this have to do with Duck Lady or funerals? Absolutely nothing. It's too short for it's own article and I wanted to post it before I forgot about it.
*We can remember horsing around at Leonetti's Funeral Home in the lounge during my mother's aun'ts viewing. We were kids who were antsy and couldn't sit still. My cousin Phillip set off a few firecrackers in an ashtray. Thankfully no one came running. Death can be a difficult thing for really kids to process. unless they are really disciplined, it may be better to have them say their goodbyes and then send them home with a sitter. We were in our early teens, so w had no excuse.
* One older man at my grandfather's funeral who paid his respects to our family, silently just nodding his head. As he headed back toward the rear, he turned around and came back again. And again. I was standing between my brother and my cousin Dell, when on the third pass, he wouldn't let go and kept shaking Dells's hand. We all laughed when he said, "Weren't you here before?", and then "Hey, let go! That's enough!" It was a humorous moment to a grievous evening.
There was an elderly lady in the neighborhood who would use the funeral homes along south Broad Street either to socialize, just have something to do, or both. We called her Duck Lady. All you had to do is hear her speak once and you understood where the name came from. She had a voice like Donald Duck in the old Disney cartoons, and she spoke loudly so you heard her at the other end of the block. You knew it whenever the Duck Lady was around.
We would see her many times a week, yet there were only two memories I have of her. One is that she would often pull a shopping cart down the street on the way to the store. The other memory was that she would also visit the funeral homes every evening to pay respects to each person. From Stolfo to Monte to Grasso to Gangemi to Leonetti, she had them all covered. If Carto was there at the time, she would have been visiting there too. Whether she was shopping or mourning, she would always wear a black dress and veil. She first caught our notice at a family viewing. She said a prayer at the coffin and quietly gave her condolences, toning down that Duck Lady voice for a short time. But as she made her way to the rear of the funeral home, her volume increased to the voice that we came to know and,,, okay, just know. Maybe amused by. When we saw her again, the question of who she was came to everyone's mind. Someone mentioned, oh that's the Duck Lady and explained her visiting habits, and a neighborhood character was created.
I could see if she was a very sociable lady and had lots of friends who recently passed away. But here, the Duck Lady made the rounds every night. She would simply walk in, stay a few moments after paying respects, and off she'd go to the next one. I don't believe she attended the morning viewings just before departing for the churches and cemeteries, only the evening viewings. Still, there are wakes every night but I think on Saturday at those places, so she always had somewhere to go.
I think I can somewhat understand where she was coming from. Remembering when both of my maternal grandparents were coming to near the end of their lives, they were devastated that all of their friend had gone on before them. This put them in the unenviable position of surviving every one of them. They still had family to cling to, but their social fabric was irreparably torn, leaving them very lonely and friendless. When my grandfather's longtime friend died, he was actually angry about his passing. Angry that he never took him for the visit to his daghter's home as promised, upset that they would never again gather at the bocce courts at Guerin playground; but mostly just upset that his last remaining Italian-speaking friend was gone forever, leaving him feeling very lonely and aimless. It was the same with Grandmom. She was always having friends over for coffee and conversation and over time, there was less and less of them. For a lady in her nineties who remained active into her waning years, it was devastating for her. Some of us are going to be in the same position someday and it's not something to look forward to. We sometimes don't realize how important our friends are until they're no longer around to pick your day up.
The Duck Lady is long gone. I think she disappeared sometime in the early 1980s, most likely going the same route we all do in life. One has to wonder if her own viewing was well-attended. With all the wakes she walked into, you would think she had she gotten to know many people and it would have been standing room only at her own viewing. She may have actually had only a few family members or neighbors there. With her being such a figure on Broad Street, one of the funeral directors should have held her funeral at little or no cost. Well, that may be a stretch being funerals are so expensive. Okay, maybe they could have at least laid a plaque in the concrete sort of like they did around Broad & Spruce to honor Philly-area recording artists. There they have the names in stars embedded into the sidewalk. What could they use for this lady to remember her?
Where have all the characters gone? Walk down somewhere like South Broad today and you'll see the same old faces over and over, but they're characters aren't as defined as those we knew in our youth. We need more Duck Ladies to keep things interesting.
Appparently this isn't a local phenomenon. I saw a rerun of an old Good Times show some time ago. It was the episode where the character James Evans passed away. Near the end of the program, I can't remember if it were the preacher or funeral director, but someone had said good bye to an older woman and said they'd see her tomorrow - at yet another funeral. Was she a regular just like Duck Lady? Could it be the writer of that episode spent some time on Broad Street? The mind wonders. And wanders.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER (well, maybe a small few of us this time)...
*Going to confession at St. Monica's on a Saturday afternoon and raising the priest's ire. Rather than the usual standard "Bless me father for I have sinned, it's been 1,472 days since my last confession...", many of us who hung together took a shot at approaching and saying "Bless me father for I have sinned, I peeled a potato and ate the skin" and then ran out of the confessional. Some of the priests ran out after us, some never did, I guess they just sat there and shook their heads. What does this have to do with Duck Lady or funerals? Absolutely nothing. It's too short for it's own article and I wanted to post it before I forgot about it.
*We can remember horsing around at Leonetti's Funeral Home in the lounge during my mother's aun'ts viewing. We were kids who were antsy and couldn't sit still. My cousin Phillip set off a few firecrackers in an ashtray. Thankfully no one came running. Death can be a difficult thing for really kids to process. unless they are really disciplined, it may be better to have them say their goodbyes and then send them home with a sitter. We were in our early teens, so w had no excuse.
* One older man at my grandfather's funeral who paid his respects to our family, silently just nodding his head. As he headed back toward the rear, he turned around and came back again. And again. I was standing between my brother and my cousin Dell, when on the third pass, he wouldn't let go and kept shaking Dells's hand. We all laughed when he said, "Weren't you here before?", and then "Hey, let go! That's enough!" It was a humorous moment to a grievous evening.
Saturday, August 03, 2019
When TV Repairmen Were Everywhere
Anyone out there who can recommend a good TV repairman to fix...? Us baby boomers know that those men are just a memory, and there are younger people asking "What? They repaired TVs?"
At one time there was a TV repairman in every neighborhood, often more, especially South Philly. And everyone had the name of their favorite written in their phone book (whether it was personal or on the inside cover of the Yellow or White Pages). Again, the young folks are asking "The what? This must be prehistoric stuff." Between smartphones and computers, phone books are becoming obsolete too. You don't even need to write the numbers down in case your phone gets lost as long as the contacts are backed up. If you're helping a parent clean out a junk drawer and come across one, you're welcome for explaining what those things are.
Back to the TV repairman. Remember being anywhere from a day to a week without TV because your TV set was in the shop because the repairs were a bit more complex or the repair guy had to wait for a new picture tube that was on order and there was only one TV in the house? The great thing back then was that the repairman was like a doctor who made house calls and he usually came right away. He came to your home along with his case loaded with testers for circuits and tubes plus his tools. Kids knew they were going to go into cartoon withdraw when he shook his head, slid the chassis from the cabinet, and was off to the shop with it because repairs were more advanced. A good day was when it was a simple vacuum tube replacement (those were the things that were used before circuit boards and tiny transistors replaced them). The smart people were the ones who ran down to G.C. Murphy or another store and took the tubes down to be tested before calling the repairman. You could buy replacements right there. You were a smart parent if you sent your teen to do it for you. As long as the kid knew enough and asked for help if needed, you were okay.
Our TV repairman was a guy named Sam who had a repair shop on 18th Street andWolf Street. Sam was a nice guy. There was a guy named Sal right around the corner, but Sam's wife bowled with my mom at St. Monica Lanes on Friday nights. She was the type who was a loyal friend but she also worried that she would offend someone if she hired a person and then found out that a friend or friend's husband did that type of work.
Sam did have one misfortune - us. My brother and I used to stay up late on summer nights and browse her phone book for someone to make prank calls to. Some called them crank calls and whatever you called them, they could bring a lot of laughs as long as you didn't threaten or even give a hint of threratening someone. Kids, you can't do that today because of caller ID. Even if you make your call private, the phone company has the technology to track the calls and they will if you make them. With Sam being a repairman, he was the perfect guyfor these calls. We would awakened him at 2 A.M. to ask if he repaired some strange things. We were strange kids, so go figure.
Solid-State circuitry was the beginning of the end of the TV guy. I remember the TV ads when Motorola started to tout that repairs on their Quasar sets were a matter of popping out modules and replacing them instead of tubes. Amazingly, I found one of their commercials at https://youtu.be/CWhn2BLyM1o ! Hey, no waiting for the TV to warm up anymore! You do remember the picture starting as a dot and growing until you had a full screen, don't you? You still needed a repairman to do that as you could no longer pop the tubes out and test them yourself, or have your guy do that for you. But he needed to be up on things for that brand and it meant a longer wait before the repair guy received the module to install. By then, more people had a 19-inch "portable" TV. What made them portable was that they had a carry handle, but they still had some weight and the portability was that yo could take it from the bedroom to sit on top of the cabinet of your downstairs television.
Things became more advanced to where you replaced the TV instead of repairing it. It became less expensive to replace one than repair it. Now, you would only get one repaired if it was still under warranty, and you can almost forget calling someone to come to fix it. Modern circuitry means doing the work on a workbench instead of in the house. And more electronics in the landfill. Fortunately, the City of Philadelphia makes you bring your electronics to a recycling center. Or unfortunately, because you'll be fined for leaving them at curbside and not everyone has the ability to drop-off their TV. So much for progress!
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
* TV cabinets that were more like furniture pieces? Some people shopped for TVs that were close to matching the living room as much as they did features. As in: "We can't buy that one. The cabinet is oak and the tables are walnut."
* The weight of an older TV? I became friends with Sal who had the repair shop at 17th & Oregon Ave. He told me that carrying out a chassis from a home to the shop and back could be back-breaking, especially since most guys worked solo. He learned radio and TV repair after WWII and started a business that survived for decades until his servives became obsolete.
* A survivor - Sammy TV. I saw their van on the street recently and through an Internet search found that they still do repairs. I don't know if it's the same owner or if he sold the business. His son was in mt graduating class at Neumann when repairs were still being done actively.
* B&W TV. My brother had a conversation with a guy who wouldn't believe that there was such a thing. He had to ask his father if it was true and was amazed that anyone would buy one.
NEXT WEEK: The Duck Lady
At one time there was a TV repairman in every neighborhood, often more, especially South Philly. And everyone had the name of their favorite written in their phone book (whether it was personal or on the inside cover of the Yellow or White Pages). Again, the young folks are asking "The what? This must be prehistoric stuff." Between smartphones and computers, phone books are becoming obsolete too. You don't even need to write the numbers down in case your phone gets lost as long as the contacts are backed up. If you're helping a parent clean out a junk drawer and come across one, you're welcome for explaining what those things are.
Back to the TV repairman. Remember being anywhere from a day to a week without TV because your TV set was in the shop because the repairs were a bit more complex or the repair guy had to wait for a new picture tube that was on order and there was only one TV in the house? The great thing back then was that the repairman was like a doctor who made house calls and he usually came right away. He came to your home along with his case loaded with testers for circuits and tubes plus his tools. Kids knew they were going to go into cartoon withdraw when he shook his head, slid the chassis from the cabinet, and was off to the shop with it because repairs were more advanced. A good day was when it was a simple vacuum tube replacement (those were the things that were used before circuit boards and tiny transistors replaced them). The smart people were the ones who ran down to G.C. Murphy or another store and took the tubes down to be tested before calling the repairman. You could buy replacements right there. You were a smart parent if you sent your teen to do it for you. As long as the kid knew enough and asked for help if needed, you were okay.
Our TV repairman was a guy named Sam who had a repair shop on 18th Street andWolf Street. Sam was a nice guy. There was a guy named Sal right around the corner, but Sam's wife bowled with my mom at St. Monica Lanes on Friday nights. She was the type who was a loyal friend but she also worried that she would offend someone if she hired a person and then found out that a friend or friend's husband did that type of work.
Sam did have one misfortune - us. My brother and I used to stay up late on summer nights and browse her phone book for someone to make prank calls to. Some called them crank calls and whatever you called them, they could bring a lot of laughs as long as you didn't threaten or even give a hint of threratening someone. Kids, you can't do that today because of caller ID. Even if you make your call private, the phone company has the technology to track the calls and they will if you make them. With Sam being a repairman, he was the perfect guyfor these calls. We would awakened him at 2 A.M. to ask if he repaired some strange things. We were strange kids, so go figure.
Solid-State circuitry was the beginning of the end of the TV guy. I remember the TV ads when Motorola started to tout that repairs on their Quasar sets were a matter of popping out modules and replacing them instead of tubes. Amazingly, I found one of their commercials at https://youtu.be/CWhn2BLyM1o ! Hey, no waiting for the TV to warm up anymore! You do remember the picture starting as a dot and growing until you had a full screen, don't you? You still needed a repairman to do that as you could no longer pop the tubes out and test them yourself, or have your guy do that for you. But he needed to be up on things for that brand and it meant a longer wait before the repair guy received the module to install. By then, more people had a 19-inch "portable" TV. What made them portable was that they had a carry handle, but they still had some weight and the portability was that yo could take it from the bedroom to sit on top of the cabinet of your downstairs television.
Things became more advanced to where you replaced the TV instead of repairing it. It became less expensive to replace one than repair it. Now, you would only get one repaired if it was still under warranty, and you can almost forget calling someone to come to fix it. Modern circuitry means doing the work on a workbench instead of in the house. And more electronics in the landfill. Fortunately, the City of Philadelphia makes you bring your electronics to a recycling center. Or unfortunately, because you'll be fined for leaving them at curbside and not everyone has the ability to drop-off their TV. So much for progress!
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
* TV cabinets that were more like furniture pieces? Some people shopped for TVs that were close to matching the living room as much as they did features. As in: "We can't buy that one. The cabinet is oak and the tables are walnut."
* The weight of an older TV? I became friends with Sal who had the repair shop at 17th & Oregon Ave. He told me that carrying out a chassis from a home to the shop and back could be back-breaking, especially since most guys worked solo. He learned radio and TV repair after WWII and started a business that survived for decades until his servives became obsolete.
* A survivor - Sammy TV. I saw their van on the street recently and through an Internet search found that they still do repairs. I don't know if it's the same owner or if he sold the business. His son was in mt graduating class at Neumann when repairs were still being done actively.
* B&W TV. My brother had a conversation with a guy who wouldn't believe that there was such a thing. He had to ask his father if it was true and was amazed that anyone would buy one.
NEXT WEEK: The Duck Lady
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