50's Nostalgia and Stories

Short Stories about growing up in NJ in the 50's

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Introduction:

      Most of the stories on this site appeared in my column, "Rochelle Park: Then and Now," a nostalgic look at growing up in northern New Jersey in the 50's, published by the Our Town newspaper. Those who think of Bergen County as a busy shopper's paradise, so close to New York City, may not recognize the area in the stories I've written, but when I was growing up, it was mostly woodlands, meadows, and small rivers, and it wasn't unusual for an occasional cow to wander into our backyard from the local dairy. If you are old enough to remember those days, or just enjoy hearing about them, send me an e-mail. I welcome your comments about the site, or any suggestions you might have to improve it, and I would also like to hear your stories.  skipvanlenten@hotmail.com
 

Excerpts and Links to All Stories:

                             
                              The Big Tree
       "Clinging to the highest branches of the tree, I could hear Donny chopping away at the trunk, and feel it reverberating through my feet, barely covered by an old pair of P.F. Flyers. Then he stopped, yelled something like, "There she goes!" and ran off to the side to watch it come down."  Open
 
                       Memorial Day, 2006
       "I'm not sure I knew who Herb Score was at the time. I might have known something about him from the baseball cards I collected, but just the other day, I had to "Google” him in order to find out that he was a pitcher with Cleveland who started back in 1955, and made the cover of Sports Illustrated as Rookie of the Year.”  Open
 
                               The Radio
       “In those days, speakers were hard to get. They didn't come in pairs, and they weren't plugged into the back of a receiver, like they are today. More times than not, they were encased in a large hardwood cabinet glued together and reinforced with wood screws so long that it seemed like days before you could get them out.” Open
                   
                        The Two-Bit Lunch 
      "After a while, a woman came by walking her dog. Apparently she was surprised to find a couple of 6 year-olds out in the woods, so she asked if there was anyone with us. 
      "Oh yeah,” I said, sensing trouble. “Our grandfather is with us."
      "Well, where is he?" she asked.
      I pointed toward the pools of stagnant water and tree stumps.
      "Out there in the swamp," I said, no doubt thinking this would cover my story and explain why he wasn't right beside us at the moment.”
 Open
                                   
                              The Sandpit
       "If you've ever been to Caribou, Maine, you know that it is a land of rolling hills, and wide, flat riverbeds. In some ways, it is very similar to what Bergen County must have looked like in its early days, because if you drive over to Summit Avenue in Hackensack, and find a spot where you can look toward the west and have a clear view of the horizon, you'll see the same kind of hills you would see in Caribou. Open
  
                                    
Bill
       “My favorite was tossing a PeeWee. A PeeWee is a small football, about one-forth the size of a real one, and if you could throw a spiral, you could toss it from one telephone pole to another with no effort at all.Open
 
                                First Car
      
       "When my father and I went out to take our first look under the hood, I could see that there was enough room around the engine to actually climb in over the fender to work. All of the parts were clearly visible; the distributor, carburetor, spark plugs, and alternator were all bolted to a simple 6-cylinder engine, and it only took me a few minutes to check the oil, air filter, and hoses before I took it out for my first drive." Open                          
                          The Cloakroom
       "I have a coin jar that I keep on my dresser for loose change. The other day, I was surprised to find that I had a real silver quarter in my pocket, dated 1953. Unless you're a coin collector, or part of the older generation, you probably don't remember when all of our quarters were made of silver." Open

 

 

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Feature Story:

  

The Bike Trip

I have an old roadmap of New York that was put out by the Shell Oil Company in 1946. "Tour with confidence," it says, under the familiar scalloped-shell logo.

            In those days, you could pull into any gas station and pick up a map for free, but this one was published long before I was able to drive. It covers northern New Jersey and parts of New York as far north as Bear Mountain State Park. The paper is brown with age, and there are tears along the folds, but every once in a while, I open it up just to relive one of my favorite memories.

            In the summer of 1958, George Cole and I decided to ride our bikes to Bear Mountain. There was only one drawback. Since we planned to start our trip on a Saturday morning, we had to be back in Rochelle Park by 7 pm, so we wouldn't miss American Bandstand. For anyone under 30, American Bandstand was one of the first "modern" music shows on tv. It was hosted by Dick Clark, and featured recording artists like Bobby Rydell, Paul Anka, and The Drifters. If I’m not mistaken, we were anxious to get home that night to see Clarence "Frogman" Henry. It was the only opportunity we had to see these artists "live," and the Saturday night shows were always special.

            On the day of our trip, we left around 7 am, rode to the top of the hill on West Oldis, and headed north on Rochelle Avenue. We didn't have much money, so we made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, wrapped them up in a brown paper bag, along with our bathing suits, and tied them to the back of our bikes. Looking over the roadmap we were using, we figured we could stop along the way for sodas.

            We took what seemed to be the easiest route: Rochelle Avenue to Farview, right on Spring Valley, north on Forest, and across Soldier Hill Road to Kinderkamack, and then north into New York State. Sometime around the middle of the morning, we ended up in a very rural area, farther from home than we’d ever been on our bikes. We probably didn't know it at the time, but we were somewhere up in the mountains above Haverstraw, with beautiful meadows and rolling hills all around us. At one point, the road took a natural bend to the right, and I remember heading east toward the sun, before we came to a rock quarry with a crane and a couple of conveyor belts visible just over the horizon. We must have been riding along a mountain ridge, because as we got closer to the quarry, the road made an abrupt left, ran uphill a little, and passed through a man-made notch. When we reached the top of the hill, the view in front of us was so breathtaking that we both stopped pedaling, and pulled over to the side of the road.

            Off in the distance, thousands of feet below us, was the Hudson River. Patches of morning sun sparkled off the water, and we could see Route 9W, and the tops of trees and houses and stores in the area along the river, and looking farther upstream, we could see the Bear Mountain Bridge, and the mountain itself, but what really caught our attention was the fleet of Navy ships anchored along the edge of the river. We knew right away it was the Mothball Fleet. I had passed it once on a school trip to Bear Mountain, but seeing the gleaming grey ships from our vantage point high above the river was the first time in my life that I ever encountered such a fantastic view.

            There was so much to see that it took us a while to get going again. We took in the whole scene, pulled out our map and identified parts of the area below us, and then coasted down the mountain and headed north on 9W until we reached Bear Mountain. It was 12:30 in the afternoon when we got there. We ate our sandwiches under the trees in a small shaded picnic area, and then rode our bikes to the pool, where we swam for an hour, sat out in the sun, and then got dressed and started on the trip home. On our way back, we stopped at the "Snack Shop," on 9W, in the shadow of the same mountain we had crossed over earlier in the day. We had about $2.00 left between us, and had a hard time deciding what we could afford, but when the woman behind the counter asked us where we were heading, and heard our story, she made us both sandwiches and gave us sodas for free. I still remember her kindness, and the red checkered table cloth on the small table where George and I ate.

            The rest of the trip was easy. We made a wrong turn and ended up on Route 59, but once we came to Nanuet, we took a left on 304, and followed it down to New Jersey, where it becomes Kinderkamack Road. It was 6:50 pm when we walked into my house, just in time to watch American Bandstand.

            My mother asked me where we'd been.

            "Out riding," I said, trying not to let on that we had just taken the longest bike ride of our lives. I wasn't sure what she would have said if she knew we had gone all the way to Bear Mountain and back, but after all of these years, it remains one of the most memorable experiences of my childhood.