Showing posts with label 1950s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1950s. Show all posts

Friday, December 23, 2016

Tonawanda Stories a Hit in 2016



It was a huge surprise to find that my  stories of growing up in Tonawanda, NY were such a hit, drawing hundreds, and sometimes a thousand, readers to my blog. It all started when a post I created to celebrate my Aunt Alice Ennis's birthday 'went viral' weeks after it was posted. I snooped around and found a photo from that post had been shared on a Facebook group "Growing Up in the Town of Tonawanda."

I joined the group and shared some older blog posts I had written about Tonawanda history, which also had a wonderful reception.

My dad wrote a memoir of his childhood and I decided to share it with the Facebook group, and soon new friends were encouraging me with "more, please" comments. In the past few months I have added my own memories.

I have enjoyed reading about other's lives since a child, and still enjoy reading diaries and memoirs and autobiographies. But it amazes and humbles me to hear that people have relived and recalled their own experience through my sharing family stories and photos.

In January I will continue the family saga as our family moved to Detroit in 1963, sharing about my homesickness and Dad's new life. It won't be a Tonawanda Tale but the story of Tonawanda folk adjusting to a new community.

I have been amazed how many Tonawanda folk I have meet over my lifetime. In Philadelphia or Michigan I have discovered so many folk with Tonawanda roots, and my brother has as well. The Tonawanda settlers crossed New York State by land or the Erie Canal, and many continued west across Lake Erie into Canada or Ohio or Michigan. And of course work and career take many of us to places we never dreamt we'd go to.

Some, like my cousin David, have returned to Tonawanda from careers elsewhere. After all, there is no place like home, and home is where our family is.

Have a wonderful holiday season and may your hometown memories be warm and bright.


Stories by Me
The John Kuhn Family: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/07/the-kuhn-family-of-tonawanda-ny.html
The Sheridan Park Volunteer Firemen: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/07/dads-memories-of-sheridan-park.html
The Becker Family: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/11/eugene-gochenour-memoirs-becker-family.html
Happy Birthday, Aunt Alice: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/01/happy-birthday-aunt-alice.html
Halloween Costumes: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/halloween-costumes-of-1950s.html
Christmas Past (late 1950s): https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2015/12/christmases-past-1956-and-1957-photos.html
Building and running a 1940s gas station: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2015/07/the-station-building-and-running-1940s.html
Tom's Brook Massacre: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-rhodes-family-massacre-at-toms-brook.html

Emma and Al Gochenour
with Mary and Gene
Al and Emma Gochenour with
daughters Alice and Mary


Dad's Memoirs
Part I: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/07/memoirs-of-eugene-gochenour-part-i.html
Part II: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/08/memoirs-of-eugene-gochenour-part-ii.html
Part III: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/08/eugene-gochenour-memoirs-part-iii.html
Partk IV: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/08/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-part-4.html
Scouting: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/09/memories-of-eugene-gochenour-scouting.html
Alger Gochenour: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/11/alger-jordan-gochenour-today-i-share-my.html
Grease and Cars: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/09/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-grease-and.html
Boating Tales: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/eugene-gochenours-memoir-boating-tales.html
Floods and Subs: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-floods-and.html
Lives Cut Short: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-live-cut-short.html
New York State Theme Parks: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-new-york.html
Runnning a Coffee Truck: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-running.html
Pets, Fishing, and Hunting: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/09/eugene-gochenors-memoirs-pets-fishing_10.html
Gene Gets a Girlfriend: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/09/eugene-gochenours-memoirs-gene-gets.html?google_comment_id=z125uvtafzbywjdbi04cfbky4suhz5gyx3w
Aunt Alice and me

My memories
My Old House: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-old-house.html
Birth and preschool: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/11/my-memories-of-growing-up-in-tonawanda.html
Stories my Mother Told Me: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/12/stories-my-mother-told-me-and-other.html
Trash Picking: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2013/10/trash-picking.html
Lois Gibbs on my Green Heros Quilt: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2012/11/my-green-heroes-quilt-lois-gibbs.html
Songs My Mother Sang Me: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2014/04/songs-my-mother-sang-me-1940s-novelty.html
Houses: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2014/05/houses.html

Related Books Reviews
Love Canal: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-history-and-legacy-of-love-canal.html
1901 Pan American Exposition book: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/10/spectacle-and-assassination-at-1901.html
The Sky Unwashed: https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2013/09/mother-russia-and-sky-unwashed-by-irene.html

Saturday, November 26, 2016

My Memories of Growing Up in Tonawanda: Early Elementary School Days

I want to thank everyone who visits my Saturday family history posts! I have a little more of Dad's memoirs to share, but wanted to pause and interject my own Tonawanda memories.

Today I will continue to share my childhood memories of growing up in Tonawanda, recalling my early elementary school days.


Philip Sheridan Elementary School. Unknown source.
I was excited to start Kindergarten at Philip Sheridan Elementary School. I couldn't wait to make the new friends that Mom promised I would meet in school. Of course, many of the girls I became friends with lived RIGHT DOWN THE STREET! It seems silly that I had to go to school to meet my neighbors. But I also meet people I would not have known if not for school, especially through Brownies.

Walking to School

To get to school I walked down Rosemont Avenue to Elmwood. The Rosemont houses had been built about the time I was born. The street had the coolest metal street lights, green painted fluted posts with lights like old fashioned lamps.

I was a daydreamer, always wrapped up in my imagination, making up stories and scenarios. Sometimes I scared myself thinking about sad things. This made me pokey, and I often got to school late. Mom couldn't figure it out, since she sent me out the door on time. If the flag was being raised when I got to school I would stand and pledge my allegiance which made me late to class! Otherwise we kids waited outside until the doors opened.


On my yard with Rosemont Avenue behind me.
My dog Pepper walked me to school. One day she hung around the school door and got inside. She came trotting into my classroom and right to me her tail in a lazy wag. The teacher was furious and I had to walk Pepper home again. Mom had to keep Pepper indoors when I left for school.

I hated trash day. People threw away perfectly good things, and it made me very sad. I come from a long line of folk who see the worth in things others toss away.

I was a very sensitive kid and little things drove me crazy. Like when my socks worked their way down my ankle until they were balled up under my foot! I was always pulling up those socks. And my shoe laces never stayed tied. Mom bought me Saddle shoes, which I hated. Later in life I was told I tied my shoes backwards, and it occured to me that Mom was left-handed. That's why I couldn't tie my laces to last.

I did not have a book bag or back pack like kids today. I had to carry the heavy books in my arms. I dreamt about having my own mini airplane for an easy school commute. I also dreamt I could fly. I had dreams about floating. I floated down the stairs, or above the streets. In my waking hours I was sure once I had really floated. I knew I had floated above Rosemont Avenue on the way home from school.
Winter at my Military Road house
Winters were harsh with heavy snowfall. There would be high banks of snow along the sidewalks and driveways. I remember walking along the deep snow at the curb, climbing up and down the banks...And likely knocking the snow back down on the sholved driveways! One winter I noted the boot tracks in the snow, and one pair of boy's boots made a pretty track. I tried to figure out who they belonged to, which house they led up to.

There was a boy who teased me for being fat. I started carrying an umbrella in case I needed to defend myself. I remember having that umbrella made me feel powerful.

I don't know why I was fat. I recall my folks telling me to settle down, calling me Antsy Nancy, so I know I was moving a lot as a kid. There are home movies showing me pretty hyper. Maybe it was the school lunches Mom packed: peanut butter sandwiches made with Wonder Bread; a piece of fruit; a whole package of Hostess cupcakes or Snowballs! Sometimes she put in a hard boiled egg with a little packet of salt, or leftover meatloaf in a sandwich with catsup, or a boloney and cheese sandwich. I bought chocolate milk at school. I hated milk and drained it off my cereal, but I would drink the chocolate milk.
I loved to swing. Dad built this swing set on our yard
along Rosemont Ave.

Philip Sheridan Elementary School

The school seemed huge. It had a playground for the Kindergarten and another for the older grades. I loved to swing and I loved to climb the monkey bars. I was pretty fearless. I loved to climb the willow tree at home, too.

There was a real gym. I remember learning to dance the cha-cha in gym!

I remember the display cases with the seasonal themes, including Hanukkah. The classrooms also had seasonal themes. Purple and yellow, tulips and eggs for Spring. Autumn leaves and pumpkins, gold and brown, turkeys with multi-colored tails for fall.

I loved the art hanging in the school hallway. I remember near the entrance hall was a painting of a blacksmith shop under a spreading tree. It may have been Paul Detlefsen's Horse and Buggy Days:
http://ow.ly/uX8c306kHCY
Another painting I remember was of three horses, perhaps Grazing Horses by Franz Marc,
http://ow.ly/ssto306kHFG
My Kindergarten teachers were Miss Slawinski and Miss Kowal. We took naps after lunch, laying in rows on rugs, but I was always talking and got into trouble. I remember enhoying the kid's sized play kitchen in the classroom with its little dishes. I liked to play house then.

When the teacher asked where I lived I said, "Next to the biggest tree." Well, it was true did. The willow in my yard was huge. The teacher complained to Mom because I could not get my galoshes on, would not stop talking, and did not know my address. She concluded I was 'spoiled' because I was still an only child. I don't think Mom spoiled me at all. I was just inept, clueless, and well, lonely.

I was lousy at physical things and could not somersault or do cartwheels or tumble. Also, I couldn't see! I had bad astigmatism and didn't get glasses until the school identified the problem.

I loved school things: the notebook and paper, the pencil case and erasers, bulletin boards and chalkboards and books. It was a priviledge to be asked to clean the chalkboards at the end of the school day.

I liked to play teacher. For a long time I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up: first an art teacher, then a music teacher, then a junior high teacher.
Playing teacher to my cousins Sue and Mark
My first new friend was Christine M. who lived on Rosemont Ave. Christine had siblings and friends and knew a lot. She asked if I was Catholic or Protestant and I had to go home and ask Mom. I had no idea about denominations. She asked if my folks were voting for Nixon or Kennedy. I had no idea about presidential elections or political parties. I had to go home and ask Mom. Christine was a lot more savvy than I was!
I got a Brownie camera and this was one of my first photos!
There was a garden in Christine's back yard, and one time she pulled out carrots and we ate them. Her brother was watching King Kong one time I was there, a movie I had never seen. Scary, impressive, and exhilarating!

Christine introduced me to the girl across the road from her house, Janet L. She was a year younger than us. Janet had a sand box. I loved playing there, even if we found sometimes cat poop in the box. We would play there for hours.


Janet L. at my house
Janet and I played cowboys. I don't recall any Indians, but there were bad guys. We watched Gene Autry and Roy Rogers movies rerun on the television. I liked that Autry sang, but Rogers had the great Palomino horse. We would argue over who would be Autry and who would be Rogers. Neither of us wanted to be the cowgirl! That was just lame.

I did not always play nice. I wanted my own way, and one time when I was miffed I imitated what I'd seen on cartoons: Janet was bending over and I gave her a backside a kick. I got into big trouble, rightly so. I was lucky her mom still allowed me over.

I joined the Brownie troop, likely Mom's idea since I was pretty shy in groups. I loved Brownies, everything from the uniform to the songs and crafts. Mrs. Mildred Newhall was our troop leader.
Sporting 'pig tails' and my Brownie uniform.
I loved singing so I always remembered the songs, like the round "Make new friends, but keep the old; One is silver and the other gold." It taught me to hold on to friends, but always be open for new friends.

I also remember the silly songs:

Ooey Gooey was a worm, 
and a mighty worm was he; 
He sat upon the railroad track
--the train he did not see. 
Ooey Gooey!
*
A peanut sat on a railroad track
His heart was all aflutter.
Down came the 8:15
--choo-choo-choo-choo- Peanut butter!
*
Do your ears hang low,
do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie them in a knot?
Can you tie them in a bow?
Can you throw them over your shoulder
like a Continental solider?
Do your ears hang low?

Another song I remember was Little Cabin in the Woods, which had hand motions:

In a cabin in the woods
Little man by the window stood;
Saw a rabbit hopping by,
Knocking at his door.
"Help me, help me, help me," he said
Or the hunter will shoot me dead."
"Little rabbit, come inside,
Safely to abide."

I think therein lies the root of my never wanting to shoot a gun. I was later a good shot with the B-B gun, but they held no appeal for me. I'd rather shelter the bunny than shoot it dead.

Earning Brownie and Girl Scout badges taught me skills like embroidery. We went hiking and camping, three to a pup tent. We each brought a can of SPAM to cook over a fire. I thought it was gross. Of course, the best part was the campfire and the singing and the S'Mores! We only got one each and it was hard eating just one.

Our troop had a girl, Mary, who was in a wheelchair. And for a very short while an African American girl.

The troop leaders gave us a book about a white, yellow, and brown bunny that learn to get along. And then before one meeting a woman in a pill box hat and heels came to the door, bringing her daughter to the meeting, her older son next to her. They were African American. I don't recall any problems, but sadly the girl did not stay very long. I didn't know about segregation and the fight for equal rights going on at the time. But that bunny book made its mark on me. I cherished that book, but at some point it was tossed out, perhaps when we moved.

Teachers & Classes

In First Grade I had Lucille Peterson, Miss Hurley for Second Grade, and Mrs. Erickson for Third Grade. Miss Hurley and Mrs. Erickson were not warm to me, but somehow it did not affect my love for learning. My Fourth Grade teacher was Miss Vanden Beukel, who Mom said was "prettier than Marilyn Monroe." My Fifth Grade teacher Miss Dozoretz was Jewish and taught us about Hanukkah. She gave us dreidels and taught us how to play. I loved Miss Dozoretz, who I remember as cheerful and upbeat. I felt she really loved us all. She married after school ended and we were all invited. Sadly, we moved that year and I couldn't attend.

My favorite subjects in school were music, art, and reading, science and social studies. So, yeah, like everything but math! I was lousy at math. Mom helped me memorize the multiplication tables, but spring break ended before I learned the x8 table. To this day I can't keep numbers in my working memory. But I can finally balance a check book and sometimes figure out the tip.

I liked the songs in Kindergarten, especially Do You Know the Muffin Man? Oh, to have a muffin man walking down the street! And we played the Hokey Pokey: "Put your right hand in, take your right hand out; put your right hand in and shake it all about."

In music class we learned American and world folk songs. A favorite was The Happy Wanderer. 


I love to go a-wandering
Along the mountain track,
And as I go, I love to sing,
My knapsack on my back.

I also loved The Erie Canal--since the canal was just down the road! And folk songs like I Ride An Old Paint and Drill, Ye Tarriers, Drill.

Art was my first school subject love. At home coloring was a favorite activity. My favorite Crayola colors were Periwinkle, Sea Green, Robin's Egg Blue, Aquamarine, Cornflower, Mulberry, Thistle, Salmon--clear bright pastels with lovely names. I still love playing with color, only today I use fabric.

I also loved paper dolls. My grandmother taught me how to cut with scissors, a skill I still use in quilting! I remember I had Dinah Shore paperdolls. She hosted the Dinah Shore Chevy Show which I watched with Mom. I pretended I had The Nancy Show. My acts included a trio of singing horses named Sugar, Coffee, and Cream. I believe the names were inspired by a song I liked, Sugartime, sung by the McGuire Sisters: "Sugar in the morning, sugar in the evening, sugar at super time./ Be my little sugar and love me all the time."

Learning to read came easy to me. I had grown up with Little Golden Books and illustrated books. When I was invited to join the school chorus the teacher scheduled reading while I was out of the classroom. I have sang Alto from third grade until today. We met in the school auditorium. I remember we learned the May Day Carol:

The moon shines bright, the stars give a light
A little before tis day
Our heavenly Father, he called to us
And bid us awake and pray.

Another song I remember learning was The Holly and the Ivy:

The holly and the ivy
When they are both full grown
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The holly bears the crown.

O, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing of the choir.

I was Martha in The Christmas Carol in the school play. Actually, I played Martha in one scene and another girl played Martha in the other scene. I memorized everyone's lines, and to this day I remember the lines. It remains a favorite story.


Teachers read out loud to class at school and I was transported by the books. Each class had its own mini-library. I read all the books after the teacher shared them: Mr. Popper' Penguins; Charlotte's Web; Ben and Me; Follow My Leader; Homer Price; Bed-knob and Broomsticks; Mrs Piggle Wiggle. Hence my love of fiction! I loved A Child's Garden of Verses and when I found a biography of Robert Louis Stevenson I read it. Such a romantic life! And so my interest in biographies began.

When I learned there was a public library I begged Mom to take me. My first visit to the Sheridan Park Public Library I brought home Follow My Leader, D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths, and a history of Australia. It was hard to choose, there were so many lovely books.

During the summer Mom sent me to Day Camp at Herbert Hoover Junior High. We meet in the gym for activities and crafts. I recall crafts making hand loom potholders, wood burning, etching on copper sheets, and painting plastic kits of parakeets.

We went swimming at Day Camp. I didn't know how to swim plus I hated it when my face went underwater. I got an ear infection one summer and was able to skip swimming.

Janet also went to Day Camp and her big sister drove us to Day Camp a few times. I heard Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Tiny Polka Dot Bikini on the radio one day when she drove us.

I went home and told my Grandmother Gochenour that I didn't like popular music, it was inane, and she approved. I told her I would only like classical music and musicals, and also that I would never like boys because girls acted silly over them. I kept that promise for a long time.
With Grandma Gochenour, who lived with us.
This photo is from about 1959, because that is when Mom bought
her turquoise couch!
My first awareness of time, other than as a reassuring cycle of the known, came in 1959. Next time, I will share my memories of my brother's birth and meeting the best friend I could have ever wanted.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

My Memories of Growing Up in Tonawanda

I have been sharing my dad's memoirs. Before I continue with his writing about leaving Tonawanda I want to add my memories of growing up in Tonawanda.

I had finished Fifth Grade and was still ten years old when my family moved from Military Road to Michigan. I really did not understand the implications of 'moving'. I spent three years resisting calling Michigan 'home', filled with nostalgia for Tonawanda and my friends and family left behind.

Childhood was a magical time, filled with the newness of discovery and the comfort of the known. I was surrounded by family, and their friends brought laughter and joy into our lives.

Joyce Ramer Gochenour and baby Nancy. 1952
I was born in 1952. My parents were very young, just 21 and 22 years old. Mom was tired of working at Remington Rand, and all her friends were getting pregnant, so she told Dad she wanted a baby, too.

I was supposed to be a boy and I was to be named Tom. It threw Dad for a loop when I turned out to be a girl! As the only son he longed for more guys in the family. Mom wanted to name me Nannette but her friends talked her out of it, saying, how would it sound calling out the door, "NANNETTE!" So I was named Nancy. Mom said she knew a pretty cheerleader at school named Nancy. I figured that was what she hoped for me, to be pretty and popular and coordinated.

I was a colicky baby, Mom was frazzled, and so we moved in with my Ramer grandparents for a while. Grandma helped relieve Mom.
Grandpa Ramer and baby Nancy. 1952. At my grandparent's
Sheridan Park Project home.

I was baptized in the Episcopal church. My grandfather Ramer was a deacon in the church. But my parents did not attend church. The few times they went and left me in the nursery I was terrified and cried.

I won Dad's heart with a smile. He was left in charge of my care and I smiled at him. After that, a daughter was OK. But he still wanted that son, Tom.

Nancy Gochenour baby photo
We lived in the upstairs apartment in the Military Road house belonging to my Grandparents Gochenour. My Aunt Mary, Uncle Clyde, and cousin Linda Guenther lived in the larger downstairs apartment, and my Gochenour grandparents lived in a smaller downstairs apartment. I was surrounded by family!
Grandma Gochenour with her daughter Mary and my Guenther cousins,
with a neighbor, outside the smaller apartment
Mom was always a night owl who liked to stay up late and sleep in. My cousin Linda was a year older than I. She would come upstairs and take me from the crib and play with me before Mom was out of bed. Other times, Mom would put me in the playpen and nap on the couch next to me. 

Mom made a fenced in area in the yard for me to play outdoors. When I was bored and cried she opened the window and threw me down a bag of crackers.
The play yard Mom made for me.
The apartment living room had high south facing windows covered with Venetian blinds. The view looked across Military Road at Ensminger Road toward the Niagara River. The other rooms included a small eat-in kitchen, two bedrooms, and the bathroom. There was a steep, long set of stairs. At the bottom was a laundry area, a door to the front of the house, and a passage way to the apartment where my cousins lived.

My earliest memories are of the sun coming through the Venetian blinds, lighting up the dust in the air. I remember Mom playing records. I remember the music and later identified it: Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White and The Poor People of Paris. I remember the 1951 television and being scolded for sitting too close. It wasn't until I started kindergarten that my astigmatism was identified and my vision corrected. My poor vision made me clumsy. I fell down those long stairs several times, and hit my head on the bathroom sink!

I remember watching Lassie, and Sky King, Romper Room, and the Mickey Mouse Club.

I do not remember when my Grandfather Gochenour passed in 1955, or my Great-Grandfather Greenwood passed in 1956. I do have a memory of an older man in a rocking chair, the light from a window behind him so I can't see his face. I don't remember when my Ramer grandparents moved from the Sheridan Park housing project when Gramps took a Chevy job in Detroit around 1955.

I do remember when my Ramer grandparents came back to visit!
Here I am about 4 years old, 1956
I would always run and ask what Grandmother Ramer had brought me. And my Grandfather Ramer would take me with him to visit his old friends in the Sheridan Park project. I remember visiting someone in the Project with him when I heard the kid's new record The Purple People Eater, which I loved. "It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater..." That had to have been in 1958.

Nancy, Stephen and Linda at a wedding
at the Tonawanda Baptist church
Following my cousin Linda came Steve in 1953 and Elaine in 1955. We four played together. There was a stone driveway to run up and down. Lilac bushes with a hollow spot that we turned into our own gas station. A big yard. A long porch to jump off. Willow trees whose long branches we turned into fishing poles, stripping off all the leaves but one at the end to be our fish.
Elaine, Nancy, Linda and Stephen. 
 I also went to the same church as my Guenther cousins and my Grandmother Gochenour, the Tonawanda Broad Street Baptist Church. I remember the shock of seeing a girl dunked into a tank of water and I remember the stained glass windows. Grandma taught Sunday School. I watched her preparing the class crafts. I remember singing before class and learning In The Garden. I remember coloring Joseph's coats of many colors.

I also had my second cousin Debbie Becker to play with, the daughter of  Dad's uncle and good friend Levant. Her parents were both redheads, and Debbie was as well. Born just a month before me, we played and rolled across the floor in laughter because of the 'laughing gas' that always got us giddy. We had so much fun!
Me, Mom and Debbie Becker at Christmas
When my Guenther cousins moved into their home on Grand Island, Military Road became a very empty place for me. I missed my live-in friends. I was lonely. Mom told me that the next year I would start school and I would meet kids and make friends.
Here I am in those cats eye glasses Grandma Gochenour is
at the sink. That table is still in the family.
School awaited on the horizon with all the lustre of untold hidden treasure.

****
Many years ago, after reading Ranier Maria Rilke's advice to a young poet that one can always tap into one's childhood for inspiration, I wrote several poems based on childhood memories.

The first poem is from a memory from before I was in school. We lived in the upstairs apartment. Mom and a man were talking business at the table, and I was playing, until I heard the man say the name John. I repeated it, which made him turn toward me to questions what I wanted. Was his name John? I don't know. I know I was embarrassed. I know I repeated that word to myself afterward. And that I later preferred 'J' names for my alter ego characters in my make believe play.

"In the beginning was the word"
     Nancy A. Bekofske


Recalled:
     Two figures seated at a kitchen table
     lost in the glare of unfiltered sunlight,
     shadow players, male and female,
     each with lighted cigarettes streaming blue smoke.

White light, white walls, and shadows moving
and talk about grown-up things while
     I played, pushing
     some wheeled toy across the floor
     into my parent's dark bedroom,
     into the nursery with its barred bed now forgotten,
down the narrow uncarpeted hallway,
into the slatted venetian-blind light of the living room
     the radio standing on the floor playing
     "Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White"
     or was it "The Poor People of Paris," I've forgotten,
     back into the kitchen
where they sat, talking still, pushing papers about,
some business, I suppose,  
   
     when I heard a name,
     a word never before spoken for all I knew,
     and I longed to make its magnetic beauty mine:
     I stopped my play and mouthed that word
     like a sacred prayer recited in private,
     savoring it on the tongue, my ears
     ringing with pure response,
     that one word opening my mind to majestic possibilities.

"What did you say, hon?" Bending down, indulgent,
the man asked, and my mother, embarrassed
urged me to repeat myself, so they could understand.
   
     But I knew they would never understand
     the magic of that moment, even at, say, three,
     I could not utter that word, it would have been
     a misuse, like swearing with the Deity's name.

They returned to their conversation, dismissing me
a child, as having done a child-like thing
of great amusement to the wisdom of age.
   
     Only I knew the worth of the word,
     a sound so potent it could stop adult speech
     and demand their attention
     to listen to a child
    who had just learned
    the power of a beautiful word.

The second poem recounts how one day, jumping off the front porch with my Guenther cousins, I became afraid and lost my confidence, turned my ankle and sprained it.

What Happened on the Front Porch
Nancy A. Bekofske

Courage is not so much a matter of going ahead
as knowing when to stay put.

I adored my cousin,
she was older and so sure of herself.
She mothered me, I am told, the first one
to arrive at my crib mornings,
lifting me out to play.

And later, she taught and led
all our summer games: Red Rover,
Red Light, Mother-May-I?
And we hid between the lilac bushes
and raced up the wide gravel drive.
And we'd jump off  the long porch onto the grass.
I was afraid, but jumped too, landing
squarely on my feet, jolted by the impact.

The willows then were not very tall,
they did not give much shade on
a summer's day. The white wood fence
did not hide the old cars sitting
in the gas station parking lot in front.

Sometimes, we'd venture into the station
for an ice cold pop from the cooler.
I recall the smell of oil and gasoline,
the dark stains on cement and on the men, too.
They would be laughing and talking
in white undershirts with sleeves rolled to the shoulder,
some grease-monkey under a car on the bare cement.
We'd catch a glimpse of the lavatory,
with its girlie calendar on the wall.
This was our fathers' natural place,
with machines and men and oil stains.
He visited us now and then,
for dinner and lunch before returning
to work again. 

Between the two worlds
a fence and a row of iris.

For behind the station was our patchwork house,
walled into three apartments,
with a dreaded dank cellar
and a forbidden attic I longed for.
A Frankenstein built from other buildings--
wainscotting from a bar, a room tacked on
for a sunporch. 

And inside, my mother in the beige and turquoise living room,
ironing shirts, watching "Guiding Light" on TV.
The lamps had frills and sat on plastic doilies,
the tables were rock maple colonial,
the couch a scratchy nylon. 

Sometimes our mothers came out, for a BBQ with
roasted corn that was first soaked in a tub of water,
or to sit in the shade of the willow
while the children swam in a small pool. 
But their natural habitat was indoors, 
reading "Pageant" or cooking pork roasts 
or vacuuming and dusting.

We children ruled the rest of the world in between: 
the gravel drive, the old carriage barn, 
the trees to climb, the weedy yard, 
the swingset, porches, and crannies, all ours.

"Hold hands," my cousin demanded.
I was afraid. I knew I could go it alone.
But jumping together, who knew?
I wanted complete control, to jump
when I willed it, not tied to another.

I resisted, but she scolded me,
called me 'fraidy cat,
so I gave up my hand, jumped,
panicked, fell the wrong way,
leg buckling, my ankle turned.
My mother ran out, too late,
she could not protect or save me now.
I'd given myself over to another's will.
My father was called to carry me in.
The doctor arrived and said
my ankle was sprained.

It was the only hurt reaped in all my childhood. 
Later, when I understood life's risks, 
how we have a choice in this world
of going it alone or chance being hurt,
I understood I would always choose the risk,
the possibility of pain over safety.

Monday, July 18, 2016

Dad's Memories of the Sheridan Park Volunteer Firemen of Tonawanda NY

Alger Gochenour
Emma Becker Gochenour
My dad Gene Gochenour wrote a memoir of his life from 1935 until 1963 when he lived in Tonawanda, NY.

My grandfather Alger Gochenour, father Gene Gochenour, Uncle Dave Ramer, (and perhaps other family) were part of the Sheridan Park Volunteer Fire Company during the 1950s.

My Aunt Alice wrote me saying, she remembered the firemen would practice first aid on her, wrapping her arm or legs in bandages. And even I remember going to the field days and parades the firemen held.

Al Gochenour, Fire Chief at his Military Rd house


Sheridan Park Volunteer Fire Co. Dist. 4
Town of Tonawanda NY
Here is an excerpt from Dad's memoirs called Volunteer Fireman Stories: 

"I belonged to the Sheridan Park Volunteer Fire Company during the fifties.

"One day as I was working at the station a huge explosion happened less than a half mile away. A plant called The Lucidol Corporation blew up. They made epoxy resin there and the dust in the plant exploded.

"I was at the scene in a few minutes and saw a fireman I knew. He worked at the plant and he was spraying the fire with a small hose. I went up to help him but just then the first fire truck arrived and I went with them to hook up the truck to a fire hydrant. The fire hydrant was on the far side of another building, and when we got there there was another explosion. It blew out all the windows in the building we were standing by. The fireman I almost joined was hurt during the second explosion and went to the hospital. Had I been with him, I would have gone to the hospital too! The first explosion killed thirteen people. It blew off the end of a nearby house, and the wall of a steel warehouse a quarter of a mile away was cracked in several places.
*
"One day the fire siren went off and I drove to the fire station to find where it was. Both fire trucks had left by the time I got there, but there was bulletin board at the fire hall with a message telling late arriving firemen where the fire was. A 50,000 gallon gas tank was on fire at the Richfield Refining terminal on River Road.

"When I got there I saw an above ground storage tank burning. The flames reached high into the sky. The fire was so hot that even with our rubber coats and boots and steel helmets, we could not get close.

"The only way we could put out a gas fire was to spray a fire retardant foam on it. While we were hooking up the foam making device we saw a burning truck come driving out of the burning garage. It must have been parked in low gear, then the starter shorted, causing it to drive itself out of the garage. Once the foam device was set up, we could work our way close to the fire and put it out.
*
"On another occasion we were called to a steel mill where a huge cupola full of molten iron had spilled into a subterranean room. We took turns spraying water on it to cool it. As we sprayed the water, it turned to steam so we had to take turns handling the hose. Many hours later it was decided there was no more threat, and we left. It took many days for it to completely cool, and I don’t know what they did with all that iron on the floor!
*
"One of the calls we had was to go to the housing project [Sheridan Park war time housing, or The Projects] where a house had blown up. When we got there, we saw that one end of a duplex house was not burning, but the wall had been blown off. The story was that the lady who lived there had put gasoline in her washing machine thinking it would take the grease out of her husbands work clothes. We will never know if it worked, but luckily she was at the other end of the house when it blew and did not get hurt.
*
"A gasoline tanker caught fire right under the Grand Island bridge. The flame was coming out of the last compartment of the tanker. Had the fire spread, it could have been a disaster. But one smart and brave fireman climbed up the ladder on the tanker and closed the cover of the compartment, extinguishing the fire. The truck was only a few blocks from the terminal where it had just been loaded. How the cover got left off and the fire started we did not know.
*
"There were many field fires during the spring and fall. Most of them were caused by railroad steam engines or people burning leaves or trash. We had a small fire truck that was used at field fires. It had a large water tank and it carried many brooms. The truck would be driven to the field, then the driver would drive along the fire line, upwind of the flames, and another fireman would spray the flames using the water hose on the truck. The rest of the firemen followed, stamping out the remaining flames using the brooms. That was a hot, smoky job on a hot day!"



*****
The September 23, 1953 Lucidol explosion is well known in Tonawanda history. Eleven people were killed and 17 injured. The plant was situated at 1740 Military Road at Sheridan Park Drive.

Read the 1953 Tonawanda Evening News headline article here.

The explosion knocked out telephone service and the Sheridan Park Fire Department siren!

I found an account of the incident written by a local pastor here. He wrote,
"...a distant explosion broke my peace. It was followed by a resounding impact against the outside wall. My window shook with the force of the impact. I jumped to my feet and ran to the window. Off in the distance, in the direction of our church property, a high mushroom-like cloud was forming in the air. I moved quickly out the door, pulling on my jacket as I raced down the stairs. I jumped into our car and headed in the direction of the cloud. The cloud hovered in the air against a clear blue Fall sky. As I drove down Sheridan Drive toward Elmwood Avenue, the cloud was spreading out over the Military Road area. I turned onto Elmwood and stopped at Homewood Avenue leaving the car at our property site. I hurried down Homewood.
...
""What happened?" I asked Mare Krauss. "There was a terrfic explosion at the Lucidol plant. It shook everythg in our house. We lost some windows." Marie Krauss told me. Elva Graf added: "There are bodies all over the place." I ran toward Military Road, which was at the end of Homewood. Military Road ran north and south. It was dotted with industrial plants built to access the cheap electric power of Niagara Falls.
A crowd had already gathered outside the chain fence of Lucidol, one of the many chemical plants which dotted the Military Road. The police began moving people back to the other side of Military Road away from the fence. Fire engines were on the grounds of the plant inside, some were still arriving. The sirens of ambulances from the Kenmore and Buffalo hospitals could be heard coming in all directions. The police continued cordoning off the area around the plant and moved the crowd to the other side of Military Road. 
 "One glance showed the extent of the destruction. Crumpled steel, and loose boards and brick were strewn across the ground. One building had been blown apart - the site of the explosion. The Lucidol plant had been a low level plant, probably no higher than two or three stories. Smoke and low level fie were still coming out of several buildings. One could see bodies lying in disarray across the plant property. It was difficult to tell how many people had died in the explosion." 
An article about the explosive material that caused the blast is found here.

Dad