One of the rites-of-passage of growing up in South Philly was participating in the "fun" of Mischief Night. Just about every kid who hung out on the streets at some time or another took the time to make the lives of neighbors and strangers alike miserable on the night of October 30th. We all looked forward to it, some talked more about this night that they did about Halloween.
Come sundown, so many of us were out on the street and ready to roll, armed with an arsenal of soap, shaving cream, and eggs. If anyone used anything else, they didn't hang around with us. I wouldn't doubt that some more-sinister characters took to using rocks or nails, or as they did in Camden or Detroit, use fire to create much more than mischief. In those cities, the appropriate name was called Devil's Night. During the worst of those years, these cities suffered terribly, losing many homes and other structures to the flames of arsonists and leaving much property destroyed; some of it to this day. But that's Camden and Detroit. We grew up in South Philly, and no such things took place here.
Some were so eager, they made shopping trips ahead of time so that they had everything they needed. You could go into any supermarket and buy dozens of eggs at any age, no questions asked. In later years, you could only purchase a dozen or two or they would flag you at the checkout line. No excuses that you were preparing well ahead of time to dye eggs for the annual Easter Egg hunt. You'd think shaving cream would raise the red flag, especially for the youngest of miscreants. Not too many 12-year olds take a razor to their faces, but even as stores got more vigilant, that was never an issue.
The police stepped up patrol from late afternoon on Mischief Night, making sure that they had a handle on things. Or so they thought. Anyone who had got caught one year found ways to prevent getting nailed the next time around. One of the tactics cops used to foil egg throwers was pat them down. Actually, it was more like slapping, ensuring a mess in their pockets. I remember a cop questioning my friends and me on where our eggs were. He wouldn't accept our telling him that we had none. With a big grin, he said, "No eggs? You guys don't have any on you right now?", and proceeded to smack our jacket and pants pockets. His grin faded as he heard no crackling or felt anything as he slapped away. Little did he know that they were sitting in the alley just a few feet from where we stood, waiting to be lobbed at windows or cars. Just to be sure, he circled the block and came back around. When he was convinced we were just hanging around, he left us alone, and we set off on doing the things stupid kids do when they think it's cool to aggravate or cause "mischief" for those around them.
Not all of the neighbors just sat and took it. Once in a while, you'd find someone who made you pay for your actions. One of our neighbors, a man named Joe - we called him Chick, a shortened version of his last name - heard them coming. A group of teens maybe 12 or 15 in all came running up Chadwick Street lobbing eggs at every window through the middle of the block. That's where Chick lived. He sprung out the door just as the last few guys ran by and grabbed one of the last of them. He told another neighbor to grab a ladder and had his wife grab a bucket and mop and other supplies and had the one unfortunate egg-thrower clean up every window that they egged. That boy was literally crying his eyes out, but Chick told him he wasn't leaving until he was done. A number of other neighbors stood with him, arms crossed, making sure he didn't bolt. The rest of us stood around for a while and gawked as some of the men mocked "Where's your friends now?" I don't know what was worse for that boy, having to clean up alone, or having to hear the guys in school the next day rib him about being the slow one who couldn't get away. We never got snagged, and no one ever saw us and told our parents of our mischief, at least not on these nights. I admit that I had caused some problems during my teen years. I suppose there is a number who are reading this who will say the same thing, even going on Mischief Night bombing runs. Then we grew up and became responsible adults. Well, most have. For a few, the mischief is gone, but grasping responsibility was a hard thing to handle.
It seems Mischief Night is just a memory now, and that's a good thing. What seems fun as a kid is seen as foolish as you get older, especially if your property is marred by the nastiness. I'd be angry if some kid ran by and chucked an orb at my house, or scrawled with soap on my car window. I think the supermarket crackdowns were the beginning of the end of mischief night. The first few years, kids would buy ahead of time. But you can't stack dozens of eggs in the fridge without arousing your parents' suspicions. And you can't hide lots of cartons in your room without it being too cold in there. What to do? Well, not much. So the tradition dies out. Up through the '90s, a number of men would sit outside our church on this night to prevent damage, and we would see kids pass by with a look that said they were up to something. Today, no one even thinks about it. It's a non-issue. I suppose it wouldn't be wise for parents to tell their kids about their exploits, tempting them to take up the tradition, at least with just a dozen or two eggs. To do so would risk taking a beating or worse these days. But for those of us who took part in the mischief, we had a lot of laughs. Well, it was funny at the time. Thankfully, we grew up - and times have changed.
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Saturday, October 19, 2019
Where Have the Five-and-Ten Stores Gone?
This post is brand new, inspired by a photo I saw of a Woolworth's lunch counter. That got the memories going. We had the honor of having at least three (at least that I can think of) "five-and-ten", or five and dime stores in South Philly, and many in other parts of the city. There was G.C. Murphy down at 20th & Oregon, and F.W. Woolworth and S.S. Kresge's at Broad & Snyder. Those last two stores were in an area known for shopping back in the day until thefastfood restaurants amd the vagrants came panhandling to make our hard-earned money their easy-gotten change. That's if you're willing to give it to them. But back when these stores were there, none of that was going on.
Back then, the term "five'and-ten" was part of the American lexicon. You'd either have to be visiting from overseas or else lost in space if you didn't know what those stores were. If you ask a young person today about them, you're sure to get a reply of "five-and-what?". They'd have no clue.
While they were still among us, you could find just about any type of low-xostitem here. My grandmother would often visit to pick up skeins of wool to crochet blankets. I can't ever her not making one, starting another almost immediately finishing one. Many people in the neighborhood would be recipients of her kindness. As I wrote earlier about TV repairmen, you could often save a service call by bringing your TV tubes there to test and buy new ones to replace the bad. You could buy records, goldfish, Halloween candy, Christmas decorations, or just about anything you wanted or needed at these stores.
And then there were the lunch counters. Anyone who was around during that era ate at the dime store lunch counter, even if for only a hot dog and a soda or a lemonade from that ever-flowing dispenser. Kids would consider it a treat when mom brought them out shopping and stopped there to get a bite. At times, you would get a surprise there. While we were working the One Meridian Plaza job after the fire, we were eating lunch in the trailer when one guy Doug who was sent here from Ohio was eating chicken wings from Woolworth's lunch counter. I mentioned the incendiary smell of them when Doug said "They're not so hot, go ahead and try a couple." My description of the aroma matched where I'd imagine they'd be on the Scoville heat scale, only beaten in my experience in a hospital cafeteria while working a number of years later. Yep, those lunch counters were iconic, whether it's in your memories or in history as in the protest at a Woolworth's in Greensboro, SC. If you try hard enough, your nose just might just remember that smell.
Where did those five-and-tens go? Like with anything, time and economics have their way and institutions become memories. The value of money being what it is, I imagine that they gave way to what are known as dollar stores today. But where the earlier stores were kept nice and tidy, I've rarely been in a dollar store that was well-kept. Between the customers who pick up items in one place and just toss them anywhere to some employees who have no pride in their jobs, they are often a mess. But it also depends on the store, with some managers and employees having more care than others. The messy ones would have misters Woolworth, Kresge, McCrory, Murphy, and others turning in their mausoleums.
There are still some of these stores in the U.S., but you're going to be driving awhile if you want to visit one. I found this site from 2015, and I would think they're still alive.
https://www.wideopencountry.com/five-and-dime-stores/
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...In the days before everyone had cars, your mom taking you with her for walks to the stores. She'd make it worth the trip by buying you something until you became old enough to say "I don't want to go." You were old enough to say it, nut mom had her say until yo hit your teens and she'd let you go off with your friends.
...Some store managers who were barely out of their teens and were made assistant managers at some stores. Murphy's had a young man who liked to strut around and show his "authority", often hassling my friends and I, following us around the store and telling us to get what we need and get out.
...S.S Kresge stores having a baby. It's name was... anybody, anybody... KMart. It still survives somewhat today, merged with Sears. Both are abot to become memories themselves.
Famous fin trivia for when Pete Rose signed with the Phillies, the then-Mrs. Rose asked, "Do they have a KMart there?"
...Alternative stores like Blair's and Jerry's corner. Were they actually stores, or places with different merchants operating different businesses from within? I've only been to each a few times, so I don't remember them well.
...Renel's near 23rd & Oregon Avenue. Not a five-and-ten, but memorable for hearing the balls rolling over your head at the upstairs Oregon Lanes as you shopped.
Back then, the term "five'and-ten" was part of the American lexicon. You'd either have to be visiting from overseas or else lost in space if you didn't know what those stores were. If you ask a young person today about them, you're sure to get a reply of "five-and-what?". They'd have no clue.
While they were still among us, you could find just about any type of low-xostitem here. My grandmother would often visit to pick up skeins of wool to crochet blankets. I can't ever her not making one, starting another almost immediately finishing one. Many people in the neighborhood would be recipients of her kindness. As I wrote earlier about TV repairmen, you could often save a service call by bringing your TV tubes there to test and buy new ones to replace the bad. You could buy records, goldfish, Halloween candy, Christmas decorations, or just about anything you wanted or needed at these stores.
And then there were the lunch counters. Anyone who was around during that era ate at the dime store lunch counter, even if for only a hot dog and a soda or a lemonade from that ever-flowing dispenser. Kids would consider it a treat when mom brought them out shopping and stopped there to get a bite. At times, you would get a surprise there. While we were working the One Meridian Plaza job after the fire, we were eating lunch in the trailer when one guy Doug who was sent here from Ohio was eating chicken wings from Woolworth's lunch counter. I mentioned the incendiary smell of them when Doug said "They're not so hot, go ahead and try a couple." My description of the aroma matched where I'd imagine they'd be on the Scoville heat scale, only beaten in my experience in a hospital cafeteria while working a number of years later. Yep, those lunch counters were iconic, whether it's in your memories or in history as in the protest at a Woolworth's in Greensboro, SC. If you try hard enough, your nose just might just remember that smell.
Where did those five-and-tens go? Like with anything, time and economics have their way and institutions become memories. The value of money being what it is, I imagine that they gave way to what are known as dollar stores today. But where the earlier stores were kept nice and tidy, I've rarely been in a dollar store that was well-kept. Between the customers who pick up items in one place and just toss them anywhere to some employees who have no pride in their jobs, they are often a mess. But it also depends on the store, with some managers and employees having more care than others. The messy ones would have misters Woolworth, Kresge, McCrory, Murphy, and others turning in their mausoleums.
There are still some of these stores in the U.S., but you're going to be driving awhile if you want to visit one. I found this site from 2015, and I would think they're still alive.
https://www.wideopencountry.com/five-and-dime-stores/
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...In the days before everyone had cars, your mom taking you with her for walks to the stores. She'd make it worth the trip by buying you something until you became old enough to say "I don't want to go." You were old enough to say it, nut mom had her say until yo hit your teens and she'd let you go off with your friends.
...Some store managers who were barely out of their teens and were made assistant managers at some stores. Murphy's had a young man who liked to strut around and show his "authority", often hassling my friends and I, following us around the store and telling us to get what we need and get out.
...S.S Kresge stores having a baby. It's name was... anybody, anybody... KMart. It still survives somewhat today, merged with Sears. Both are abot to become memories themselves.
Famous fin trivia for when Pete Rose signed with the Phillies, the then-Mrs. Rose asked, "Do they have a KMart there?"
...Alternative stores like Blair's and Jerry's corner. Were they actually stores, or places with different merchants operating different businesses from within? I've only been to each a few times, so I don't remember them well.
...Renel's near 23rd & Oregon Avenue. Not a five-and-ten, but memorable for hearing the balls rolling over your head at the upstairs Oregon Lanes as you shopped.
Sunday, October 13, 2019
The Philadelphia Naval Hospital
Photos © 2001 by Brian Bennett. All rights reserved, use without permission and credit is prohibited. Permission is granted to those using photos in personal blogs where no financial gain is made from sale or use of these photos. Click on photos to enlarge.
That slick site you now see west of Broad Street on Pattison Avenue wasn't always a practice facility for the Philadelphia Eagles. What's now known as the "Novacare Complex" (corporations get to buy their way into naming just about everything sports-related these days) was once the Philadelphia Naval Hospital. Younger area residents will remember it as an old building that seemed to stand vacant, gathering cobwebs and dust. But for us who have a few years behind us, we know that it was a premier facility for treating troops of every military service, especially during the Vietnam War. This hospital had one of the top programs for prosthetic limbs nationwide, and some of the top surgeons in that field. Today, it's just a memory. Which brings us to this post.
I remember back during it's heyday my uncle Pat was a patient at the Naval Hospital. He suffered from late-stage lung cancer, succumbing to it in the late 1960s. Uncle Pat was a master sergeant in the US Air Force stationed in Dover, DE at the base there. Out of tragedies come good things, and the one good thing that came out of his illness was that we got to meet my aunt Ruby and my cousins Barbara, Schelle, and Tracy, and later Patty, Butch, and Dale who were older. My brother, sister, and I had not yet met them until his illness brought him go Philly.
Being able to get on the grounds of the hospital as a kid with their family, you could see it was a big, busy place. And while it was a place where people went because of suffering wounds and illnesses, you could see it was a grand art-deco structure. Buildings like that just aren't made today. At best you get faux art-deco with a lot of glass and steel, but not the real McCoy.
I went to watch the end of the Philadelphia Naval Hospital, to witness the implosion that would bring it down. I've always seen implosions on TV, but this one was in walking distance from my home, so I just had to go and photograph it. Well, the best laid plans of mice and men sometimes go awry. For me, it happened at the hands of an ignorant, misinformed Philadelphia Police officer. That woman made my set plans go awry.
I had it all scoped out. I had checked out vantage points earlier in the week, finding a great spot at 16th & Packer Avenue. There you could see straight down to the hospital with an unobstructed view, dead-on. Firing quickly, I could have captured the fall of that building and had a great sequence of shots. As I set up my tripod and started mounting the camera, Officer Know-It-All came up to me and told me I had to move. As she told it, the area I chose was the viewing area for former hospital employees and neighbors. Yet there were no viewing stands, no police lines, no nothing to indicate it was an official area of any type. An older man came to join me and wanted to witness the implosion from that site too. Again, our erstwhile officer tells us we'd have to go, repeating that only neighbors and former employees could stand there. "Plus", she said, "someone standing here could be hurt". Whether she was talking about from flying debris, the concussion of the blast, or her own foolishness remained to be seen. Just as I was about to protest, the older gentleman said, "What about you? Are you going to stand here and risk getting hurt?" She wasn't pleased. I set her over the top when I asked her why neighbors and ex-employees would be put in harms way. "If you don't get out of here right now, I'm waving that (police) wagon over and you're both going to the police station!" she yelled. What to do? If we stay, we're going into the wagon, and we miss the implosion. Best just to move on down the road.
I made my way over to Broad & Geary, finding a spot to watch, but not a great one. It would have to do, as we were only a few minutes away from implosion time. I didn't even have time for the tripod, I would have to shoot hand-held and risk movement, or else lose the shot. And so, we watched the fall of a great institution on that early spring Saturday morning, June 9, 2001. The few memories I have of that place are etched in my mind, and the few photos of the implosion are found here.
AND YOU MAY REMEMBER...
...The Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in it's heyday. The yard still stands, although not fully as a military facility. As time marches on, more businesses are occupying the Naval Business Center and the Kavaerner shipyard (or whoever runs it now) continues to slowly crank out ships. Thousands of men and women worked there during WWII building and maintaining warships. Now the only naval ships are those mothballed waiting to become razor blades or whatever else they'll someday use the scrap for.
...The Defense Support & Supply Center - aka "The Quartermaster" complex. Another once-extremely busy military facility. You could stand on the corner of 20th & Oregon and watch bus after bus full of employees empty out and huge masses of bodies stream towards the gates on any given morning. There they made and distributed things like uniforms, medical supplies, and battlefield rations for our troops. The center made it to the presidential list of facilities for base excellence, as it was recognized for it's efficiency and quality. Recognition sometimes means nothing. A year after Bill Clinton recognized it, the government announced it would close, and since has. Now the center has become a retail shopping center at 23rd St. and a light industrial/manufacturing area. Some of the base still remains vacant to this day.
Saturday, October 05, 2019
Scooters and Go-Carts, South Philly Style
Ah, the wonderful world of plastic! Just about everything is made of it now, to where it's ended up polluting just about every ocean to the city street. With it comes the arguments: Ban the use of certain items like bags and straws or hold people responsible for using it and disposing of it. Those are arguments for other places. You'll find plenty of websites to argue your point.
Kids today have been ruined by plastics. What kid today builds his or her own scooter or go-cart? For that matter, who builds anything fun for themselves anymore? Of course, at that time, it was mainly a boys thing. Sometime during the 1970s, the Big Wheel hit the toy markets, and it was the beginning of the end of kids making their own ride from junk. Soon, there would be all kinds of peddling and battery-powered kids vehicles. During summertime days, we'd look forward to trash day, and no, we weren't crazy. Even in late spring or early- autumn, we'd make time after school. We had the opportunity to find things to use to build our rides. They weren't handsome-looking, but it gave us a chance to have some fun and at the same time, we learned how to make things, and which tools did what.
If you're a child from the mid-seventies or older, you probably built one or more yourself. We used to scour the trash outside of people's homes on Wednesday, looking for material to build our go-carts and scooters. Or, we would go down the basement to see what we could find to put one together. One guy would provide the wheels, another the 2x4s and other choice trash. But we all worked together and got one built, then ran it into the ground until it fell apart. There were times when we built a few, and had or mothers asking "Where are you going to put that thing?" Our thoughts were the basement or back yard, while they were thinking "not in my house". They sometimes gave in, or else you'd take the risk of leaving it outside and someone taking it. And that was another great thing. We learned to work together and pool our resources. It wasn't ever boy for himself. The wheels were usually an old pair of our own roller skates. You remember the kind that went on top of your sneakers? Yep, those types of skates. The ones you needed a skate key to tighten. We were fortunate to find bigger wheels sometimes from discarded shopping carts or baby buggies and strollers for go-carts, but usually, it was the skates that got us rolling with scooters.
The bodies were again sometimes found in the trash, but sometimes they were pilfered from outside a nearby grocery store, but most times the store owner was willing to part with something. The bodies of our go-carts were sometimes produce crates or metal milk crates stacked. Much better than the produce crates that would fall apart after one or two collisions with something.
Some parents should get together and teach their kids the lost art of building scooters. Maybe have Boy Scout (sorry, I'm showing my age here, just Scout now) or Cub Scout dens or some other community groups have projects in building them and showing them off. There are so many modern materials to use, a kid could build something really funky. Then again, what to use for wheels? With the evolution of roller skates going from keyed models to the booted-types to roller blades, something else needs to replace the old skates. We're creative and industrious. Well, we can be, if we're willing. Dad's or grandfathers, get busy. It's times like this that I would like to have a couple of kids to show them what life was like, including building scooters. It's a bummer when some things just aren't possible. But oh, it would be nice! Now get busy!
Kids today have been ruined by plastics. What kid today builds his or her own scooter or go-cart? For that matter, who builds anything fun for themselves anymore? Of course, at that time, it was mainly a boys thing. Sometime during the 1970s, the Big Wheel hit the toy markets, and it was the beginning of the end of kids making their own ride from junk. Soon, there would be all kinds of peddling and battery-powered kids vehicles. During summertime days, we'd look forward to trash day, and no, we weren't crazy. Even in late spring or early- autumn, we'd make time after school. We had the opportunity to find things to use to build our rides. They weren't handsome-looking, but it gave us a chance to have some fun and at the same time, we learned how to make things, and which tools did what.
If you're a child from the mid-seventies or older, you probably built one or more yourself. We used to scour the trash outside of people's homes on Wednesday, looking for material to build our go-carts and scooters. Or, we would go down the basement to see what we could find to put one together. One guy would provide the wheels, another the 2x4s and other choice trash. But we all worked together and got one built, then ran it into the ground until it fell apart. There were times when we built a few, and had or mothers asking "Where are you going to put that thing?" Our thoughts were the basement or back yard, while they were thinking "not in my house". They sometimes gave in, or else you'd take the risk of leaving it outside and someone taking it. And that was another great thing. We learned to work together and pool our resources. It wasn't ever boy for himself. The wheels were usually an old pair of our own roller skates. You remember the kind that went on top of your sneakers? Yep, those types of skates. The ones you needed a skate key to tighten. We were fortunate to find bigger wheels sometimes from discarded shopping carts or baby buggies and strollers for go-carts, but usually, it was the skates that got us rolling with scooters.
The bodies were again sometimes found in the trash, but sometimes they were pilfered from outside a nearby grocery store, but most times the store owner was willing to part with something. The bodies of our go-carts were sometimes produce crates or metal milk crates stacked. Much better than the produce crates that would fall apart after one or two collisions with something.
Some parents should get together and teach their kids the lost art of building scooters. Maybe have Boy Scout (sorry, I'm showing my age here, just Scout now) or Cub Scout dens or some other community groups have projects in building them and showing them off. There are so many modern materials to use, a kid could build something really funky. Then again, what to use for wheels? With the evolution of roller skates going from keyed models to the booted-types to roller blades, something else needs to replace the old skates. We're creative and industrious. Well, we can be, if we're willing. Dad's or grandfathers, get busy. It's times like this that I would like to have a couple of kids to show them what life was like, including building scooters. It's a bummer when some things just aren't possible. But oh, it would be nice! Now get busy!
Photo found at Old Images of Philadelphia
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