greendougherty - yorkville - yorkville stories

Yorkville, the east side of New York City

The Yorkville Tale.....still writing

The Yorkville tale is dedicated to my brother Paddy. Let's put it this way, a lot of this would not be possible with out Paddy and some of his friends which made Yorkville what it was. Paddy was a pretty boy and all the girls loved him. I guess that was part of his problem. Read through the story and if you remember a story that I left out let me know so that I can add it. There are sections that can not be put to writing because some would be embarrassing to many still alive, and others, say let time forget them.

In the mean time, enjoy the readings.

This is going to be like the never ending story. Eternally grateful that I grew up in Yorkville. You know how the teacher used to get you with run on sentences, well, we're going to bring that to a new height here. Lots of run on stories. Don't jut read, add one to the list. I'll even take one lines as long as it's about Yorkville. Name have been removed to protect the innocent, not really. This will be a miss moss of Yorkville stuff and some other items that have been running in my head over my lifetime that if I don't put them to writing, they'll be forgotten.. If you want to add a line or two, send it along to Marty in an email.

I have to start this with how I left Yorkville on August 31, 1961 many years ago. As I walked up the block, I looked over at Jim Bray in the candy store and he waved to me and wished me luck on my adventure. My new adventure, shit, if I knew what was going to happen to me in the next twenty four to forty eight hours, I would have studied harder in high school. Heck, I would have really devoted myself to the books and avoided the draft all together and been a draft dodger like some of my friends were from the neighborhood. I always thought that it would be great to be pretty smart, not just pretty. It took me a long time time to become smart.

I always refer to people as being "asleep at the wheel" if they don't seem to be all there. During my life, I met a lot of people that were asleep at the wheel, and still meeting them. Let's get back to Yorkville before I go off on a tangent. I have a tendency to do that as I been told time and again.

As I got to the corner, just outside the Cozy Corner Tavern. I took a last look down the block. I regret the fact that I did not keep contact with a lot of the friends that I grew up with and I apologize for that. Even after all these years, that is probably the most important part of my life, other than raising my family which is a real treasure to me by what they all have become in life. I'm real proud. No one could be happier that what they have made me.

Like I said, let's get back to Yorkville. The one person from Yorkville that stuck with me for the next few months was that of Henny Boerner. I was to meet up with Henny later in the morning as we both left for a plane ride to South Carolina to the famous boot camp at Parris Island, South Caroline. Never was on a plane before in my life and this was a first. As I gazed down the street for the last time, I thought of all the memories that were on that block.

Every summer brought our day at the beach, city style, with the fire hydrant on full force. Water was pouring into many of the tenement cellars and the poor people who lived in those days in the cellar apartments were to take the brunt of the water flowing down the cellars. As kids, we never understood that part of the fire hydrant. We only knew about taking a beer can with both ends cut out so that you could take the force of the water and pour it over anything. Most of the times when you took the beer can and putting it down over the water pouring out of the hydrant, the beer can would fly out of your hand and the water would throw the can under a car on the other side of he street. It was always great when you could actually control the water with the can and force the sprays to reach the second floor of a tenement across the street.

The only time that it was a problem is when you finally got it right, you would hear someone yell that the cops were coming up the street and all the fun was over for now. All the kids ran for cover because when the cops came, they were not happy puppies and were always looking for someone to put in the squad cars. You would hide down in the cellars and waiting for the cops to disappear after they turned off the hydrant. There was always a spoiled sport who would tell the cops where the kids hid the wrench to open the hydrant. Kids being kids, we were always on the lookout for a new wrench just in case the cops got the last wrench.

During the summertime, when we were desperate for getting a wrench, we would follow the fire trucks when they came into the neighborhood. It was usually on the hook and ladder hat they kept a spare wrench for opening the fire hydrant. As the fire men were running to put the fire out, we would get to the truck and liberate the wrench that was always available. It was like the lend lease program. We would get the wrench from the fire truck, the cops would take our wrench away and most likely return it to the fire department. Whenever the cops would "coop out", it was usually at the fire station, Beggi's or down by the East River near the East River Drive off 79th Street. In a way, we were giving them a chance to return to the firehouse.

I hope I'm not boring any of you. Time to relax a bit and come back with more of my Yorkville tale.

To Jimmy Sheridan, the day you wanted to meet me after school and introduce me to your garrison belt. I'm so glad that you were "asleep at the wheel" when you were waiting for me on the corner of York Avenue and 87th Street. After a little time, you must have realized that I didn't go home that way since I lived on 85th Street between 1st and 2nd Avenues. I said earlier that I was pretty but not smart...I was learning fast, right Jimmy. Reminds me of the time in the Marines when I was qualifying with the Colt 45 pistol on the range. For some reason and it still baffles me what I did that pissed off the drill instructor, but he came over to me just after I fired off six rounds at the target. he yells something at me and I immediately turn around with my 45 pistol still in my hand and guess who its facing...the drill instructor. Was I going to be in for a bad time....yeah. He tells me that after we return from supper at the mess hall to remind him that I tried to kill him today. Not that I looked back to the Jimmy incident but I was getting smarter but erred on the thought that I would prefer to have a peaceful night. Well, anyway, he must have run in with a few other people that day because it was forgotten, for the moment.

He did get me about a week after that for something else. Called me up to the center of the squad bay and reeled off what I did to get him all riled up that day. Oh yeah, I was on fire watch for two hours during the early morning and at about three o'clock in the morning, I walked into the head (bathroom) to relax for a minute. You have to realize for two hours you are walking around doing nothing. Every time I went into the bathroom I kept looking at the paper that was there and said maybe I'll read one for a minute or so. After being very careful, I realized that it 2:45 AM....who's up. Yeah, this asshole decided to check the fire watch. Well, this time he got me and the next evening I was the only one who got called up to the center of the squad bay. He was nice enough to inform everyone that I tried to kill them the night before because I was reading a paper in the bathroom. I was standing there at attention and he caught me off guard with a punch to my stomach. I think from that point on I started to learn a little faster.

Have to tell the one about the Coke machine in Parris Island....that you'll love.

I'll get back back to Yorkville. As a little youngster on 85th Street, I was a good 50 - 55 pounds, real skinny. I used to hang out at the candy store up the street and listen to all the stories that were going on in the neighborhood. It was gossip central if you wanted to find something out. It was here that I found out how serious our police department was in solving serious crime in the neighborhood. One of the conversation I over heard as that of the mortician from Walter B Cooke. He was telling Jimmy that he was pissed off at the cops at a recent body pick up. I think Jimmy loved to talk and listen to stories. Guess that's where I learned a lot about the neighborhood. Getting back to the mortician. he said the cops were waiting at the body and were anxious for the mortician to arrive. Apparently, the little old lady passed on sitting in her chair in the living room clutching her money from cashing her social security check in her hand. because it was so tightly held, they didn't want to break her hand to get at the money but wanted the mortician to do something to release the money. Naturally, the mortician helped them out and they shared the money evenly.

Just a quick one to think about, whenever t here was a fire in the neighborhood, the firemen used to chase every one out of the burning building. I always wondered why the people on the street were cursing the firemen. After the mortician story, you can understand because they knew that every thing of value was in their apartments. When you run out fast, there's no time to grab all that you want to grab. You're at the mercy of the firemen and trust that they will be honest. Yeah, right, all it takes is one.

Getting back to Paddy for a minute, another Yorkville moment. One morning while out on the street, I came across a policemen's badge, a detective's badge. I was rather proud of finding it. there was a good chance that I could get a reward for returning the badge. You know it would be embarrassing to the detective to say that he lost his badge. Well, all that was for nothing because my brother Paddy found out about the badge and wanted to help get the reward, he was kind enough to help me out. After punching me in the stomach and on the side of the face and leaving me beside two garbage cans, he grabbed the badge and said that he wanted the reward. Don't you just love him.

A quick one that I have to tell you. Still in Yorkville. One day I bump into Josephine, a real pretty girl that hung around with on on 87th Street in Yorkville, I was home on leave from the Marines. She tells me that she knows of a pretty Spanish girl that she worked with and that I might be interested in going out with her. I obliged Josephine and she turned out to be a real great date. I never knew how much fun you could have with a Spanish girl, forget her name for the moment. Well, I couldn't come up for some reason one weekend but did come up on the next weekend. She tells me that she met my brother Paddy the weekend before when I couldn't come up from Camp LeJeune and said that he was terrific. I still forget her name. Always wanted to meet up with Josephine to see what happened to her.

Let's drift back in time a bit. Most of the boys at St. Joseph's became altar boys, either in the 5th or 6th grade. Fr Heide would come to class and mention that there would be a meeting for those that wanted to become altar boys in the lower church after classes. If I went home and said that I didn't want to become an altar boy, I wouldn't have been able to survive in my Irish Catholic home. It wasn't a bad job, and the wine didn't taste that bad after a while. One of the perks was serving on a wedding where the best man would give you a buck or to as a tip, that was a lot of money in those days and I would volunteer if no one accepted. If the groom didn't give a tip, the priest usually gave a buck to each of the alter boys.

The other perks is that Fr. Herman Heide would take you to Jones Beach in the summertime and to Bear Mountains in the wintertime. He brought with him food for a Bar-B-Que. The only bad part was that Fr Heide liked to go for a dip in cold mountain streams. You would pick a straw and whoever got the short straw ending up in the stream with Fr Heide. I lost a few times. Froze my ass off. Jones Beach was cool because you had the ocean and playing baseball. Everyone looked forward to going to the beach.

A Paddy and Jimmy story to break the silence. My brother Paddy was in the process of wooing a Diane Lavoun who lived on 85th street, across the street and near 1st Avenue. She was a sweetheart, the first blond I had a crush on and later to be my brother Paddy's first wife. Well, she had a father called Gilbert who was a boxer earlier in his life. I got along very good with Diane's father , it was my brother that was having some sort of problem with him. One day, Paddy and James were up the street at the Cozy Corner Bar with time on their hands and a roll of dimes, the price of a phone call at the time. Well, it was going to be a long day for Gilbert. Every once in a while, Paddy and James would look out the back door of the bar to look down the street to see how their dimes were working. It seems that they were putting to test the patience of Gilbert. Everyone was at work, except for Paddy, James, and Gilbert. The lower end of the block was very busy with all these vendors showing up at Gilbert's doorstep to perform a service for which Gilbert had called them, at least that's what the vendors were telling Gilbert.

The vendors were pissed off, but Gilbert was getting more pissed off as the morning progressed. As they were getting into the dimes, the vendors were starting to line up at the end of the block. It started to get serious as Walter B Cooke showed up to pick up the body of Mrs. Lavoun. Flowers were coming , meat was being delivered, rugs had to get measured for the living room, plumber had to fix the leak in the bathroom, and now Nagel wanted to secure Mrs. Lavoun's body for the final resting, and more vendors were coming. You see, in those days you could call a vendor and they would show up at your doorsteps in a moment. At this point and the third funeral home car arrival, Gilbert was already dialing the cops and telling them who he thought was at the bottom of this parade of vendors...Gilbert was not a happy puppy.

I had no idea what was going on at the time but did notice the cops walking up the street towards the Cozy Corner Bar. Gilbert called over to me to see if I knew where Paddy was at the moment. The cops were coming down the block after finding out that a Michael Dougherty was having a beer and there was no sign of a Paddy Dougherty. At that point, Gilbert was walking up the block and heard what the cop said. He yelled at the cops that Michael doesn't drink and that was probably Paddy in the bar. Upon returning to the bar, Paddy was entitled to a free trip to the 19th precinct. The vendors were now happy because the phone calls stopped. Michael was not happy because he was called down to the 19th precinct to explain why his brother was using his proof to obtain beer at the Cozy Corner Bar. What saved the day for Michael was that the girl he was going out with at the moment was the daughter of the captain of the 19th precinct.

Paddy was like a storm traveling around Yorkville. Every once in a while, it would break out into a downpour. There were times that when I saw him come into a bar and would tap you on the back and buy you a beer, he was a good sport, just had a nasty temper at times after consuming a few beers. It was when he got into pharmaceuticals that he became more dangerous. I would have the beer and be off...it was safer. One night in a little German bar between 84th and 85th Street, he came in just like that, we had a beer and I took off for home. The next day, I was told that he cleaned the bar out the night before after having a few beers with the locals.

This was about then time in Yorkville when German Day was still active. Well Paddy, not that he was anti-Germen, Paddy loved to have have his beer. Since he was by himself. I knew it was the time not to be in his company and took off for home. I woke up the next morning to see him fast asleep in the middle bedroom. He made it home. Later I found out that there was an incident in the small bar and three people were laying on the floor as Paddy left for a good night sleep. Apparently the husband, wife, and a friend thought they could take out Paddy in a fair fight. I would not try that sober, but that's me, a younger brother that was punched a few times by Paddy.

Have to tell you a Dominick Iacone story, that's my father-in-law. Just as I was coming into the family, it was new year's Eve in 1966 and I was driving in Astoria, Queens by the Hess Station on Queens Blvd. to get some gas so that we could drive the relatives home later in the evening. I got home to my mother-in-law and told her that I had bumped into Dominick and that he would be home any minute and was getting gas at the crowed Hess Station. Well, it seemed like an hour passed and no Dominick. After an hour and a half, Dominick finally shows up. Dominick tells me that as he was pulling up to the pump at the gas station, a drunk cuts him off and starts to get gas before Dominick. If read any of my stories, you know this scenario is not going to happen.

It was not long before the police arrived on the scene and had a discussion with Dominick to find out what happened. After the cops had Dominick's side of the story and was confirmed with the station manager, they told Dominick to go home and enjoy his holiday dinner. The cops said that they would arrest the husband and wife who were knocked out cold in front of the gas pumps as soon as they wake up. Dominick couldn't understand why these thing only happened to him.

Speaking about pharmaceuticals, Yorkville had their fair share of drugs in the neighborhood. Some guy wrote a book about youth gangs in the city and how neighborhood youths lost their identity because of the preponderance of drug availability. One day the gangs owned the streets and the next day the streets were consumed with drugs. It's amazing how the transformation that takes places and how friends get lost in the drugs. Yorkville did claim a lot of people, along with the booze.

It was about the time that I entered the Marine Corps that drugs were starting to do their most damage with people. Unfortunately, I had to see it first hand and see what it did to a family and how people get over protective of siblings at times. I have to thank the Marines for taking me away from the source, other wise, I might have been a victim too.

One of my best friends from the neighborhood was Paulie Lavoun. We were literally hooked at the hip. Anywhere he was, I was usually right next to him. Paulie where are you now? Would love to talk to you.

I was just trying to fix up the pictures, or what you may call pictures, from the crowd from Kronks. It seems to be a losing battle. Have to look at a different method to try and capture some of the pictures. Not doing too good at the moment.

Back in the old days, on the corner of 88th Street and York Avenue, there was a luncheonette on the corner with tables. We used to go in there in the evenings and sit at the tables and share a story or two about the crowd we hung around with. Usually a quiet night except for the occasional bus driver that would stop by and have a cup of coffee before the started of his next cross-town route which took him all the way to the Westside of Manhattan on 86th Street and back to another cup of coffee. By now, you're thinking where is he going with this. We're going back to the cup of coffee. Oh yeah, Charlie Andrews was in the store at the same time. Now back to the coffee. Picture the scene, we're at the table with smiles on our faces and waiting for a reaction from the bus driver who is about to pour some sugar in his coffee. And then it happens, the bus drivers jumps from his seat, the owner of the luncheonette yells to us to get out of the store, and tells the bus driver that he'll give him another cup of coffee because all the sugar came out of the bowl because Charlie loosened the lid enough to make it look like it was on tight but it really wasn't. Low and behold, when the bus driver pour the sugar into his coffee, not only did the top of the sugar bowl fall off but the contents fog the sugar bowl also pouring into the coffee cup and all over the bus driver. Now you know the rest of the story.

My first garden was in the backyard of 324 East 85th Street. It was all cement but for a hole by the fence which used to hold a pole for the clothes line. I remember digging up there all the time, but for growing something, I haven't got a clue. When you're small, you're dangerous. I think it was a weed that was growing there. The other treasure that I used to find there was this stone that was part of every cellar in Yorkville. It was what Yorkville was built on. I used to collect it by the bay full and would hang out with the barber's son around the corner on 2nd Avenue between 48th and 85th Streets. We used to go into his back yard and get the stone and crush the stone into dust in a meat grinder. I guess we thought we had gold. I said we were dangerous back then.

His father was the local barber and we often go there with the old man to get our hair cuts. I remember sitting in the chairs at the barber shop and going through the pile of comic books that we would read as we were waiting to get our hair cuts. We weren't fussy in those days as we are now. We used to go into the German deli that was almost next door to get a Pepsi and a Devil Dog after the haircut.

Graduation from Cardinal Hayes High School in June 1961. I didn't know for sure if I had graduated outside of St Patrick's Cathedral when I confronted Fr. Healy and asked how I did. He was kind enough to let me know that I would find out inside. Fortunately, I had to wait for the long walk from Cardinal Spellman, down the side aisle, walk in the pew, sit down and look, I did graduate. Look below.

Every Night About This Time I get in a writing mood and I want to capture all the stuff that is going through my head. There are just so many memories and an awful shame not to capture them here on these pages for all to see (as if someone is reading this stuff).

I think about Joe Sepsko (did I spell it right Joe?) and the rats that were in the neighborhood. I remember seeing a mouse in the cat's mouth that I called Tiger and lived in the cellar. The first real rat I saw was dead, Thank God, and it under a beer truck that was parking and had crushed the rat under its tires. It was big and nasty. I guess you guys had more up near the brewery.

I have to tell you about the car load of Puerto Ricans that made the fatal mistake of driving up 85th Street back in the early days (early 50's) when gangs were really in their hey day. It was a typical summer afternoon and people were talking on their stoops. Most of the guys on the block were from the post Korean era and were still feeling their oats. Well, I haven't got a clue what that means. The car load of Puerto Ricans made it half way up the block when someone yelled that there was a car full of Puerto Rican coming up the block. Personally, if the guy proceeded up the block and stepped on the accelerator, he night have gotten away clean but I guess that he panicked and who wouldn't on a summer evening when a bunch of white guys are rushing your car. Since the panic mode set in almost immediately, the driver put the car in reverse and gunned the motor. You know where this is going because the driver didn't make it all the way back down to 1st Avenue without incidents.

As a matter of fact, there were a lot of incidents. In each case, they backed into a car, and the driver had to pull up and put it in reverse to get down the block to 1st Avenue. He did this several times till he finally made it to 1st Avenue. A lot of cars were damaged and the driver's car was not in the best of shape because a lot of people that were chasing the car down the street were picking up garbage cans and hurling them at the the car as it was trying to get down the block. It was probably the longest two minutes in the driver's life. I think they ended up smashing the front, back, and side of the car before he finally got down to 1st Avenue. I don't think he ever made the mistake of driving down 85th Street any time soon.

Many, many years ago I was delivering papers for a guy named Terry I believe. I just recently received pictures of James Scheid from his sister Dot and put them up on the Scheid Family web page. You can have a family web page too, just let me know and I'll let you live on forever. It was a fun job that let me deliver papers in one of those bicycles that had a box on the front where you loaded the papers, James was the one who got me the job delivering the papers and it was fun while it lasted. I believe that I worked for the Grand Union (that's another story) after this job because I became legal for that type of work, I reached the age of 16.

My route was Park Avenue in the 80's for a couple of blocks and then off to East End Avenue, from 79th Street to about 84th Street. I especially remember 10 East End Avenue because of the doorman. There was some serious money in that building. Every time I came down 79th Street, there was a girl that I made friends with and used to hang out at her stoop for a while with her and the family. It was a social thing. It was so long ago I forget what it was all about. All I remember that I didn't stop for one if it wasn't worth the stop. I must have been impressed. Please tell me your name if you get this far in my Yorkville tale.

Now to the Grand Union. I have a couple of stories from this place. Probably the best one of all is the free food that I gave away one night. I was always fascinated by a pretty girl. One of them came into the store one day and came on my line. I watched her every minute as the line moved forward and I checked the people out. Something caught my eye and the fascination grew as she got closer to putting her items down on the counter. She was the next person in line and I couldn't wait to be even closer. She must have seen the excitement in my 16 year old face and was willing to take advantage of my dumbness, for lack of another word to use.

Then she was all mine. So close that I could touch her but didn't because it wasn't part of the job. I was there to check out her order, get paid, and thank her for shopping at Grand Union and looked forward to seeing her again. As I looked at her, I kept on thinking how much she looked like a movie star. This girl was beautiful, and I mean beautiful. I did not have a clue about the facts of life but did she that she was physically endowed as they would say. It was the first time in my life that I had seen a girl that close up without a bra and I was completely in awe. I was so impressed that I couldn't start the next order and watched as she walked out of the store with her order.

For a 16 year old, I was impressed. Now here's the good part. I'm counting my drawer at the end of the day and realize that I'm short a certain amount of money. As I look back on the day to try and figure out why my drawer was short, that girl came back to mind....I never collected the money for the order from her. I wonder if she went shopping like that all the time in Yorkville. I never saw her again after that episode. At the time, I was going out with a little princess from 78th Street. I used to think that she looked like that girl that was married to Bobby Darren. The name is gone for the moment.

Just an elderly couple that I have to mention because they were so nice to me while I was growing up in Yorkville. They were the McCarthy's and they lived next door in 322 East 85th Street. They had the same apartment our family had in 324 East 85th Street. Every time you would look up during the nice weather, you would see either the husband or the wife looking out at the block and the children on the block. I believe that he was one of the original keystone cops and was retired. A nice retired couple that lived on the block and never had a bad word about anyone.

Just to keep you current, the crisis in Lebanon is getting more serious (7/22/06) because Israel is contemplating putting in troops in Southern Lebanon and they are starting to do air strike against any communicating equipment (Cell tower, Cable and TV transmitting towers, and land lines). If the populace have no idea of what is going on, you are in more of a control that the opposing force, Hezbollah. It also looks like the troops will not be assaulting in a conventional assault but more of a guerrilla attack. In other words they appear to be attacking in a guerrilla format, like the Hezbollah, and maintaining a better control of the fighting arena. Let's see how it folds out.

Swag. What is swag? Swag is something that falls off the truck and never makes it to the store where it was intended to be delivered. During the old days, a lot of swag was removed in the conventional manner, employees who were knowledgeable about the potential contents in a truck and because they were obligated due to a financial situation (bad loans with the boys). They would advise a particular person of such goods and when they were available because they worked for the company. Once they goods were liberated from the truck, thy became "swag" and were subject to sales conditions on the street.

It was pretty much up to the aggressive sales person that you meet on a regular basis when you go to a car dealership or an appliance store. You get hustled and end up with an appliance or car that you may not have wanted to purchase but were roped into it. Well, the boys can at times get aggressive and sort of forget about loyal customers. In one such case, one of the boys was pissed that this individual did not buy the latest in swag that was offered in the neighborhood. The individual persisted and was still rebuffed. I asked Dominick why this guy was busting this individual for buying this swag item. He said it was the mentality of the street. If you buy something swag one time, they feel you are a mark and continually seek you out to buy another swag item. You been compromised so you won't say no.

Well, on this day, the aggressive salesman was really pissed off at this individual and wanted to make a point. The aggressive salesman also knew something about this individual that most others did not, he was the owner of an automobile. An automobile that was sold by him to this individual. A piece of information that he was willing to share with his counterpart who was an employee of New York's finest. To make a point here, the salesman informed this individual that this swag car was parked in Yankee Stadium and if they staked out the car, they would be rewarded with finding the person who was the present owner of this "swag" car.

So, now you know the rest of the story...this guy comes out of the stadium to drive downtown to a nice dinner of clams and tomato sauce at Umberto's but becomes a resident of the the Tombs, compliments of New York City Police Department and loses the car that he purchased from this aggressive sales person. I had to ask Dominick why did the guy do that for. I said I would never buy anything from him again. You never buy swag because they come in the neighborhood and seek you out to buy everything that they are selling. Once you buy, they know that they have you. He said you never buy swag and you won't have to deal with them. He said they were like vultures.

Dominick said it was pretty much like dealing with the local police with his business. When times were good, the parking lot was full, he was always willing to toss a few bucks to see that those offenses that were often ticketed were overlooked when the appropriate amount of funds were donated. Sometimes the new boys would become 'gavoons' as Dom used to say. The local patrol car would stop by and the young rookies would get out and approach Dom for a donation for the looking the other way. This would piss off Dominick to no end if the business was down and he wasn't doing too good. The older cops would be more receptive to his economic situation and not bother for a donation but as soon as business picked up, they too would make a stop at Dominick's lot. They knew a good thing. It was a perk as the said in the trader.

Not sure if I mentioned this story and it sort of give you an idea of neighborhood mentality that also applied to Yorkville. One day, Dominick was in his little hut with his worker Larry when two individuals opened the door to the hut and told Dick that this was a hold up. Dom looked up and noticed that both individuals, one black and one white, had guns. Dominick was eager to please the individuals and not get killed for something as stupid as a robbery. Dominick stood up to get his money out of his pocket where he normally kept his money to give to the robbers.

When we were living out in Long Beach in the 70's, this was the time period when New York City was razing the Rockaways. They literally went from one end of the Rockaways on the beach and tore down all those little beach houses that families had rented all on the 40's, 50's and 60's. Since that era was now over, the closest and most logical place to relocate was to Long Beach, just a little further east on Long Island. It was to bring an exciting change to Long Beach, where it was going to go through it's growing pains, and causing us, as a family to relocate to the east end of Long Beach.

Over the next few years before we moved, you could see how the streets moved. The west end of Long Beach went from just two to three families on to blocks from the Atlantic Ocean to Reynold's Channel to the point where it was impossible at times to find a parking space. It got so bad, that we started to save parking spaces. It took a few months to make the decision that it was time to move on. At any given day you could go out on the street and make any type of purchase, and I mean any type of purchase.

Dominick used to talk to a fella named "Tommy" down the street who was connected to the boys from Pleasant Avenue. Dominick used to say that the boys downtown were more in charge and the boys uptown, around Pleasant Avenue, were the workers, sort of. After meeting a few of the people from Pleasant Avenue that were becoming frequent visitors to Long Beach, I came to understand what Dominick was talking about. I for get the Italian word but you became to be used quite commonly when you would encounter some of the individuals from the area. One of the words was for a friend, was "cump" or something along that spelling.

In the early days of life, especially those in Yorkville, who can help but remember those special moments. Most of anyone growing up in Yorkville and making that trip down to Carl Schurz park for some serious submarine (race) watching. I now I was a frequent, or, would have liked to have been but I did have my moment. Here's a look back to the special one summer night.

Time for another Paddy story. This one occurred when Paddy was married to Diane and she was working downtown at a Wall Street bank I believe. If you saw the pictures of Diane, she was a very pretty girl and drew her fair share of attention when going around the neighborhood. Hey, that's why Paddy was after her and ended up marrying Diane.

Well, all that prettiness did attract attention. Especially one little darling on the train that would search out Diane when she got on the train going downtown. Every time she boarded the Lexington Avenue express on 86th Street, this little pervert would seek out Diane and get right behind her and you know what. Diane did everything that was possible to get away from this guy but he was persistent. One night at supper, Diane told Paddy about it and he told Diane to go to work the next morning and he would follow her and see what this guy did. To top it off, it was a little Puerto Rican and that got Paddy really pissed off.

Well, the next morning, Diane and Paddy were off to the 86th Street express stop to make that trip downtown. Diane acted like nothing was different from any other day and proceeded into the express train as the doors opened. paddy followed her into the train and stayed close to Diane, looking around to see if anyone was coming close. Sure enough, this one guys comes up and gets close to Diane. Diane motions to Paddy that this is the guy that has been bothering her for the last few days. Meanwhile, the train is approaching the next express stop at 59th Street. As the doors opened, Paddy grabs the little Puerto Rican from behind and throws him off the train and follows him off.

The doors closed and Diane didn't get to see what Paddy was going to do the little PR that was scaring his wife. Without being too descriptive, I'll close by saying that Diane never saw this individual again on her trips to the bank downtown. She said that it was a pleasure to go to work after that day. Paddy said that all he knows is that after the doors closed, he proceeded to beat the shit out of the little pervert and left him laying on the station platform. The Lexington Avenue was safe for at least another day.

One day I'll talk about the girls of Yorkville. Especially that one from 78th Street. I wonder what happened to the bracelet.

Many moons ago there was an advertisement in the TV Guide and a few other magazines in the 50's. If you remember, the city and a few other places had trouble with roaches. I remember an advertisement for a guaranteed roach killer. The seller was so sure that this would kill a roach that he guaranteed it 100%. I forget if it had a money back offer or not but it did get attention. It got so much attention, that the Attorney General wanted to bring charges against the person seller the 100% guaranteed roach killer. So many people had purchased this items that they all felt that they were being ripped off and complained to the Attorney General.

He did cause quite a stir and I recall the papers got a hold of the story or the TV Guide because it was in their paper or magazine. The man was confronted with his 100% foolproof bug killer. They told the person that nothing can be 100% guaranteed like his invention. He told that his was 100% guaranteed. They said how can you say that and how does this invention work if it's 100% guaranteed. They said what is your invention. He told them, all it is was a block of wood and a hammer. He said that all the people have to do is catch the bug and place the bug on the block of wood and slam down with the hammer. he said the bug dies all the time and that's why it 100% guaranteed. Does anyone remember that advertisement?

Many years ago, I worked for Michelin Tire Corporation. I was with them after they moved from downtown New York City to Lake Success, New York. I talked my way into an interview. I was told later on that if I was interviewed by the HR department manager that was on vacation, I would have never been hired. He was Otto something from western Europe. If I wasn't hired, they would have lost millions of dollars that I was able to spot a billing error. That story another for another time when we talk about Magilla-Gorilla, and that's another story.

One of the Frenchmen that worked there, some were very strange. One was Roland was was the lawyer. I had him going one day when we were working on the budget for the new building. Roland was being very secretive at the time and I mean no information was coming out of his office and we had a budget to prepare for the new year. I asked the man a few times for the dollar amount of the furniture and fixtures that would be estimated to be spent on the new Michelin building that was being built down the street. No information was coming out of Roland and number were required for the budget process and Roland couldn't rationalize that. Well, Marty use the magic figure of one million dollars to save the day.

I gave the number to our budget manager to finish the presentation for the budget. Guess what. Roland was paranoid. Every time I came down to his office, he wouldn't let me in and would use a reason to close his door. In gave up trying and forgot about trying to get anything from him in the future. I found out later on that the reason that Roland was paranoid was that the number i guessed for the budget was right on...one million dollars that was his estimate. He actually thought that I had gotten into his office and found the number in his files for the new building.

The pond in the back of the ,mansion in Clermont. As the story was told to me by one of the French staffers from Clermont. One of the cousins had a pond in the back of the homer and was a little over the edge. Well, he had a pond in the back of the house and was always curious about the fish in the pond. I guess the number got to him after a while and ordered a company to drain the pool so that he could count the number of fish in the pond.

A quick Ron story from Michelin day to day. I'm walking down the hall one day coming into work and see Ron standing on the outside of the file room staring into the credit department. I stop for a minute for some small talk with Ron and he brushes me off and literally pushed me out of the way. I continue down to my desk and sit down. a few minutes later I'm talking to Tom and said did you notice how Ron was acting today. He looks at me and says didn't you hear. I said hear what.

Now you have to remember, I'm not thinking anything bad. I'm working out on Long Island where strange stuff just doesn't happen. It's not New York City, that's where strange things happen on a daily basis. Long Island, no way. Well, Long island was getting head in the game. Ron is a happy go lucky type of guy and sometime takes lunch in the lunchroom and some where down stairs because he has keys to most of the rooms and offices at Michelin. One of his favorite rooms to take a quiet lunch is in the photographer's office. Ron sits back and pulls out a magazine to read while he enjoying his lunch. Well, the magazine that Ron pulls out has a few pictures in it that fall out. The picture happen to be of a certain young lady from the credit department that posed for the photographer, like a playboy shoot. Now, we know why Ron was staring into the credit department.

This young lady was ahead for her time too. One day I didn't see her by her desk and asked where she was today. The boss said HR sent her home to get a more sensitive attire because she came in with a halter top and no bra. This was the bra burning period in America. When I left Michelin to pursue a new career opportunity, she gave me one of my presents. I opened it when I got home that night. It was a plastic 35MM canister with some green dried grassy material. I was wondering why she told me to enjoy my smoke that night.

One night many years ago in a bar on 93rd Street and 2nd Avenue, I approached a pretty girl that was standing by herself. I said that this was impossible in a place like Charades because of the number of people that came in here in the early 60's. Lots of couples and many more singles all over the place. Not being attached to anyone at the moment, it seemed like the right time to strike while you're feeling brave. I walked over to the young lady and introduced myself. I was always a charmer in those days and still in the Marines, home on the weekend from Camp LeJeune down in North Carolina. Why not and I went over.

As I engaged her in conversation, I could see from the expression that she had other concerns. Still not seeing what she was seeing, I still went ahead and tried to get better acquainted, but was rebuffed a second time. Then I noticed what she was staring at, her boyfriend at the end of the bar was trying to score with another young lady. Seeing that this was getting nowhere, the comical Marty came out and said "At least you know if he doesn't score, he'll always have you to walk home". The girl didn't have a sense of humor but I was truthful.

That's what I loved about Yorkville, if you played your cards right, you could literally date a few girls and the other ones would never know about it. When I was in high school, I took a girl to a dance at Cardinal Hayes High School. The beauty about this was that both girls lived on 78th Street. Now, don't sit back and say that this wasn't nice for me to do this. In this case, the girl I took to the dance was doing the same thing. When I took her home from the dance, she told me not to go home on York Avenue because her boyfriend was looking her and the boy that took her to the dance. She told me to take 1st Avenue home and she was calling another guy to come over and say this was the guy who took her to the dance. Don't you just love them. I say this, there were an awful lot of pretty girls down in that part of Yorkville.

Katie and Paddy, this is a classic. Well, Marty was a little involved in this story too. I was the slower one because Paddy had a head start. Well, kids being kids, one day we pissed off Katie for some reason. It wasn't hard for two boys to piss off Katie because we were always getting into mischief of some kind. Well, Katie was after both of us for some reason and beckoned for us to come upstairs for some reason. Apparently, we weren't fast enough and Katie persisted in calling out to us. Don't think you know where this is going because at some point we were in compliance with Katie's wish and returned to the apartment.

As we ran up the stairs, we could see that Katie was really pissed off because she had a strap in her hands and she was waving it at us and she yelled for us to get in the apartment. for a good spanking for what we did. We knew we were going to get belted and were insistent at putting off the inevitable. We made a mad dash for the living room and ran as fast as we could with Katie in hot pursuit. Now you have to remember we were faster than Katie because we were kids, but not that fast. I could feel Katie's yelling so close to me that I tried to push Paddy out of the way.

If you're familiar with rail road flat like what we have in Yorkville, it means all the rooms are one after another like a rail road car. The last room was the living room and had a glass door that you could close off from the rest of the apartment. No she didn't go through the glass door but didn't for lack of trying. As Paddy yelled to close the door, I was able to grab the handle and pull the door close behind me, like that was going to help. We almost made it to the living for a short reprieve but only caused more problems by trying to close the door. Our timing was almost right, and I say almost right because I almost was able to get the door closed if it wasn't for Katie being so fast.

Katie was a little too fast and caught the door on her noggin' just as I got the door halfway closed. All we heard was a loud bang and saw Katie fall back on the floor. Katie was out cold. Paddy looks at me and says what do we do now. I said let's get some water to splash on her, that's what they do on TV. We did learn something from watching TV, we can be proud. It did wake up Katie, we did get a good fanning but it was priceless to she the shiner she got from the encounter with the French door.

One of the things that fascinated me in Yorkville was Saturday nights at the horror movies that were on after or around midnight. I was doing papers in those days on Lexington Avenue and 86th Street. Always rushing to get the papers finished for the news stands, collect my money for the night and be off to get something to eat before Zacherly would be on. Always a good horror show and his crazy antics during the show and his wife Elizabeth.

As other times there were these Italian movies on with these Italian starlet's. I guess these would be Divas now a days. Well, she was my diva and it wasn't long before I had an urge to go Italian for good and eventually did. One of the turning points was a fascination with a girl called Silvana Mangano who starred in Bitter Rice. Her name was Anna and she made my day. You can still see a lot of the movie being hawked on ebay, even today. Well, I finally got the song that I've been humming for the last forty years to enjoy.

Don't feel too bad for Katie because she did extract restitution from both of us in the latter years when we grew up. More of a psychological nature that physical punishment. One day she was able to get revenge on Paddy at an early age. he went with the boys to play baseball in Central Park and didn't pass the word to Katie where he was going and what time he was going to be back. Well, Katie was a little upset with Paddy when he got home.

When Paddy walked in the door, I mean you could see for yourself what he was doing, he had a baseball glove, a ball and a hardball bat. he said I was playing baseball in the park. Katie pulled him into the apartment because she didn't want to yell in the halls for all the neighbors to hear what was going on in the Dougherty's household. As she pushed Paddy down in the kitchen chair, she grabbed the bat out of his hand and was yelling at Paddy for making her worry. Paddy quite naturally put his hands up to defend himself but more so to protect himself from the bat that Katie was shaking at Paddy for making her worry.

Katie meant well because she was really scared that something had happened to Paddy. Paddy was more afraid that something was going to happen to him with the bat and he was right. POW, right on the head. It was an accident and Paddy was out cold. I looked at Katie just as she was looking at me and I told you just killed Paddy. Well, after a few slaps to the face, he did wake up. I think Paddy was good for about a week after that incident.

There was a fellow from the neighborhood called Mr. Clean. Right now, I forget what his real name was but that doesn't matter because it has nothing to do with the story. Paddy was a friend to a lot of these people that happened to hang out or some part of their life came across 85th Street. I guess it was like that all over Yorkville. Well, Nr Clean and Paddy all ended up in California for some reason. In Paddy's case, they made it out to California but had no money to make it back to Yorkville. Guess who was the soft touch, Katie. Should have let the bastard walk back, it was his idea.

One of the people that ended up in California was Mr. Clean. He told me that he needed a job and got a job riding buses back and forth in California. He told me that the job wasn't that bad but he really wasn't used to that type of driving. He said that he really wasn't prepared for the ice on the roads when he was coming south out of Northern California. Now that I think of it, maybe he was pulling my leg, but I'm gullible for any story. He told me that one day he was driving south and came across a patch of ice and lost control of the bus and said that his career of being a bus driver came to a screeching halt and returned to the quiet of Yorkville. Oh yeah, he was a bit baldish and that's why they called him Mr. Clean. Nice person though.

I have to add a picture of Diane Lavoun at this point because she was a sweetheart and my sister-in-law. I did have a crush on her because she was a very pretty girl. I guess the three of us, all boys were smitten by Diane. I mean if you come into a house of all boys, you'll make an impression, especially, if you're as pretty as Diane. She had two brothers, Paulie and Jerry. I was always hanging out with Paulie, he was cool and a real good friend. If you saw Paulie, I wasn't too far behind.

Diane's Picture - Find it

For those of you that never stopped on 86th Street for a break at Linden's Bar (or Tavern). Some people will brag about Nathan's French fries but I think that Linden's French fried were a contender for great French fries. I also think they they served them in a paper bag. Does anyone recall? As soon as we left either of the movie houses and you had some spare money, you would always look forward ton order of Kinden' French fries. After you got your French fries, you go to the counter at the end of the service area to load up on ketchup in the bag of French fries. Loved them. Wish I had a few right now.

It was tough on a Saturday night walking on 86th Street looking for a snack to eat after the movies. There were so many choices and you didn't have to park a car to get at them. They were so very close. As you walked across Third Avenue, you came to the 5 & 10 cents store that had those glasses of soft ice cream with chocolate syrup rolling down the inside of the glass. As you took another spoonful, the roof of your mouth started to freeze but it was worth every minute.

A little further down the street was the White Tower where you could get a bunch of hamburgers with a orange drink. Always on a Saturday night you could stop by and get a few burgers in those days. I used to hate onions and always ended up scrapping off the onions because you could never get a plain hamburger sandwich. I used to get a kick out of the cook when you ordered because he would open a little door off the grill that had all the hamburgers. So close to the grill. I used to watch the guy scrap the grill off to cook my burger and see no onions and when I bit into the burger always tastes the onion. Go figure.

When you're a teenager, you do the strangest things. When you were a teenagers in Yorkville, one of the things that you cherished or longed for was a your own car. Not only your own car but a convertible. What better that to own a convertible and park it on your block. That cost a lot of money in those days. Anyone that had a car, let alone a convertible, was looked with envy.

Well, the memory leaves me at the moment but someone from our crowd on York Avenue and 87th Street got a hold of a convertible. When you were offered a ride, you didn't say no, you jumped in the car. Now you can impress the girls even though the car wasn't yours. Since there were no girls around to take advantage of this great opportunity, some said let's go to the beach and test this car out. Was any one going to say no, it was off to the beach for the car load of us. Oh, I forgot to say it was winter time and I was lucky enough to sit in the back seat with the top down. There wasn't enough room on the floor to try and hide from the cold. The ones in the front seat were lucky because they had the heater on full blast. I would have still loved to own a convertible.

It was when we moved to South Florida that I still had the urge to get a convertible, preferably the one that Don Johnson drove in Miami Vice. I did get to look like Don (the attitude) with a tan and a suit. Have to get that picture on here some day for all to laugh.

Just noticed a few posting s on the Manhattan Board about gangs in New York City. I know Yorkville had their share of gangs and gang activity. I observed my brother Paddy who was a member of something, I never inquired which one but knew it had the old man upset about his activity. He would be with Jackie Trolan and the rest of the gang crew looking for some thing to get into a rumble. I always had the impression that it was with the Puerto Ricans because they were the Dragons.

When I heard them talking about the Fordham Baldies. He used to say they weren't a threat because they only fought girl gangs, which was their reputation. No one wanted to fool around with a city gang, Fordham was in the Bronx, and for a city boy, that was the country. Hell, Queens was the country for most of us. My mother always would say that when things got better, we were going to move to the country, Queens.

I heard a little about the Red Wings but not too much. Only involved with them was when we went to Brighton Beach in the summer and had to rely on the Red Wings to clear the beach from the Puerto Ricans. Now that was power. Not one Puerto Rican moved when the board walk was full of Red Wings coming to out aid. Every hear of the expression, "Reach out and touch some one". There was a lot of touching going on then.

Well, this little section of Yorkville had a few gangs and some of their names were the German Army and the Hell Benders, of which Ace Kilcullen made a little famous. I keep trying to get the names of the rest of the gang and keep hitting a wall. Anyone out there can help in naming who was in the Hellbenders, please send me an email. For some reasons, I think there were only 13 members.

Around the time I officially left Yorkville to join the family, Iacone family, I met a character called "Sorrow". He was introduced to me by my future father-in-law. I met "Sorrow", my one and only time, on Henry Street, across from the Henry Street Settlement House. He was on the other side of the street and Dominick called out to him. "Sorrow" waved hello to Dominick and both of us headed across the street to exchange pleasantries.

The conversation drifted back and forth from English to Sicilian and I was introduced to "Sorrow" who was inquiring if I was Dominick son because I looked a little dark and was always thought that I was Italian when we would attend funerals in Brooklyn in later years. The funeral is an Italian ritual, celebrated in a different way that the Irish look at the after life. I gathered from the conversation that he inquired about who I was. I heard the word "Irisha" and Dominick said that I was to be his future son-in-law that was getting married to "Cookie", the nickname for my future wife, Marie.

With that, "Sorrow" congratulated me on my marrying Cookie. He seemed like a nice fellow. After we left "Sorrow, I made a comment to Dominick that he seemed to be heavily dressed, and quite expensively dressed for the neighborhood. I never saw alligator shoes close up before and a camel hair over coat. I said this guy was wearing some expensive clothes and said does he work on Wall Street. Dominick looked at me and said that he was one of the big bosses and I was to learn that it meant not a Wall Street boss but a so called mob boss. Dominick told me later when he met "Sorrow" he said that I seemed to be a nice young man for his daughter to marry, even though he was Irish.

Dominick told me later on that Sorrow had a son-in-law that didn't show him any respect. It was almost like out of the Godfather later on because the story had some similarities but I heard the story before the movie came out. His daughter was married to someone that used to treat her a little heavy handed and "Sorrow" didn't like this. According to the story, this individual had a confrontation with "Sorrow" and spat in his face. I said what did "Sorrow" do? He said nothing. "Sorrow" just walked away. He said that a few months later, this individual was found some where in Brooklyn with a few holes in his head. Apparently, someone got to him.

I have this other Dominick story in my head that must be told before I forget all the details. Also, I have to recount the famous "white shirt" phone call with Aunt Millie. That's another time. Dominick had a taxi cab in New York City with his son. You bought a cab and a medallion that was affixed to the hood of the cab. It was all legal, straight up, no screwing around with this for Dominick. The financial exposure for a person buying a cab in those days was high, just like nowadays. Dominick wanted to set up his son in the business and wanted to pay off the cab in three years, the medallion being the highest cost. In order to pay off the cab in three years, that meant that the cab had to be working a good portion of the day.

Dominick's son was the day time operator and Dominick, after operating his parking lot during the day, took the cab out at night to help met the goal of paying off the medallion faster. Now, this was all possible if the cab is working both day and night. The cab was key to getting cash. If the cab was down for any type of repair, the money was not coming in but was going out of repairs. Dominick drove for a cab company for a while and saw how an independent cab owner could make a lot of money and decided to get a cab with his son.

They went out and purchase a new taxi from the dealer on Queens Boulevard. It was a beautiful cab and I have the four letter decal somewhere that was their call sign and on the license somewhere. The cab was going good for a while and the money was coming in. Suddenly, a problem came up with the transmission and the cab needed to be repaired. After being out of action, the cab was repaired and both returned to day and night getting some money back to pay for the repair bill to the transmission.

Then all of a sudden the transmission goes out again. Dominick gets a call from his son that the transmission went out again. Dominick was getting upset because now your starting to talk serious money when the cab is off getting repaired, especially for the same item that was just repaired. Dominick told his son to get it back to the dealership and have the cab repaired. Hi son dropped it off at the dealership and was told to come back in the morning. The next morning, his son stopped off to pick up the cab.

He entered the dealership and was told to go see the cashier to pay for the repair work on the transmission. His son tried to reason with the manager because they repaired the item only a week before and why should he have to pay for it again. Not getting anywhere with the manager, he picked up the phone to call Dominick and tell him about what the dealer had said about releasing the taxi cab. Dominick asked his son to try and be more impressive but the manager was insistent that the taxi cab would not come off the lift with him being paid, and that was all there was to it.

His son listened for what advice Dominick was about to offer but heard a dead silence on the other end of the phone. After hearing nothing for a minute or so, his son hung up the phone. After about twenty minutes or so, Dominick arrived at the dealership and asked his son where the manager was located. His son motioned to the office and watched his father approached the office with his customary table leg in his right hand. He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

After a little theatrics in the office, as you could hear some screaming going on, Dominick cane out of the office and told his son to get in the taxi cab and start making some money to pay off the medallion. When I got home later that day I was to learn about the incident from my brother-in-law. I asked how did Dominick convince the man to let the taxi off the life without getting paid. He said that Dominick said to the manager that if the taxi cab wasn't off the life in two minutes that he was going to break both of his legs. The man was convinced that Dominick would do it. You know what, when he gets in that frame of mind, I believe that he would have done it too. You got to know when to fold and when not to fold. Dominick wasn't a folder.....ever. I only got him once in about thirty years.

Beggi's Bar and Restaurant was right down the street on 85th Street, right on 1st Avenue. I remember everyday that you would see several garbage trucks lines up outside Beggi's, double-parked and the boys were inside having lunch. I know that the food was good just from listening to the folks in the neighborhood. I would imagine that when lunch was finished that the boys were enjoying a few beers, it was a bar after all. If you walked past Beggi's you would see the tell tale sawdust on the floor of the restaurant would spill out into the street.

It wasn't until I was 18 years of age that I was able to enjoy a cold draft beer at the bar in Beggi's. It was worth the wait. Oh to have a nice cold beer right now from Beggi's would be great. On the way up the block you could stop in the Old Timers Bar which was just a few houses up the street from Beggi's. I think that this bar also fielded a baseball team.

I'll get to the "white shirt" and "limo" in another time.

The girl from 89th Street. This is a coming of age story. Just about the age of 15 or 16 and dumber than can be. Well, she really wasn't a girl friend but actually the first girl you get to kiss. Nothing passionate just experimental and all. If anyone knows 89th Street, just off 1st Avenue and across from the closed movie theatre that was on the corner. This building had a little cubby hole, not that you could hide in. You could actually sit on the level and still be comfortable where you could get your arms around a girl's waist.

Well, there was this girl from 89th Street, whom I forget now. It's been so long, I have no idea who she was. Believe me, I tried to remember. Well, anyway as we are making out, nothing heavy, and you start a little hand traveling and you investigate. I was doing a pretty good job of investigating if I recall. Like I said, it was perfectly innocent and nothing was going to happen. I was so impressed that I was looking forward to the next day and wanted to do a little more investigating.

The next day we met again and went to the same place to resume the activities from day before . Everything was going good. A little kiss here, and a little kiss there, started to feel great. Started to say it was time to do a little more investigating. As my hands started to go the same place they were just the day before, she pushes me off and asks what was I doing. I looked at her and asked her if she had a twin sister. My training session came to an abrupt end.

I wonder if anyone is really reading this stuff.

Good Night for now.

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