<\/p>\n
A heated neighborhood rivalry between the Seabury Pawnees and the Minford Marauders came to a halt when Joey yelled,<\/p>\n
\u201cHey Jerry, get your mother off the field, this is an important punchball game!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCut it out Joey, Don\u2019t talk about my mother like that. Did I ever say anything about your mother?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, please get off the field, we\u2019re playing a game. I\u2019ll have the milk and cookies after the game.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom left preaching her usual sermon.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe game. The game. All day long you play the game. If you did your homework like Walter does, instead of punching a ball, I wouldn\u2019t have to see a teacher every week.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a warm April afternoon.<\/p>\n
The boys retired to their dugout, their clubroom, a parked car\u2019s running board.<\/p>\n
Eddie broke the silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard that Bill Dickey could tell where a foul pop-up is going to go once it leaves the batter\u2019s bat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou heard. You\u2019re always hearing things Eddie. The FBI could use you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo Marty. He\u2019s too stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStupid? Tell me, who failed last week\u2019s spelling test?\u201d<\/p>\n
The running board\u2019s hard rubber embossed strips began to squeeze into Eddie\u2019s rear.<\/p>\n
He stood up rubbing his rear end.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s sit on to the curb near the fire hydrant, my ass is killing me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Marty wasn\u2019t happy with this suggestion.<\/p>\n
\u201cDogs piss on the hydrant. I\u2019m staying.\u201d<\/p>\n
They were nine-years-olds. They haven\u2019t as yet graduated from punchball to stickball. But that\u2019s OK, the field is smaller and the cops didn\u2019t grab the sticks.<\/p>\n
What did nine-year-olds do after school? The smarter ones did their homework. Fun was the name of the boy\u2019s game.<\/p>\n
Jerry, the unelected leader of the group suggested,<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about roasting some mickies tonight? I\u2019ll meet you after supper and we\u2019ll go to Jennings Street Market. Me and Joey will get the potatoes, Eddie and Marty will get the wooden boxes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat idea. But what if we get caught?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGet caught? How many times did we get caught, Marty? Boy, are you a fink.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not afraid, I just think the mickies are dirty when we take them out of the fire.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEddie, did you ever get sick from a mickie?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, and they\u2019re really good.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
After dinner the boys met outside Nick the Shoemaker\u2019s<\/em>store. Together they walked the<\/p>\n three blocks to Jennings Street Market.<\/p>\n Jerry lifted the nailed-down canvas cover of Miller\u2019s fruit and vegetable stand.<\/p>\n \u201cUh-oh, watch it Jerry, that man on the corner. He looks like a detective.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDetective my ass. That\u2019s Mr. Pasternak, my neighbor from the second floor.\u201d<\/p>\n Eddie slipped his hand under the cover and removed four potatoes. He joined Jerry for their three-block walk to the corner of Seabury Place. In the distance they could see Joey and Marty struggling with four wooden fruit boxes.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The boxes were stacked. To be used for kindling, Marty was about to crush a Daily Forward newspaper.<\/p>\n \u201cStop!\u201d said Eddie. \u201d You can\u2019t burn that. It\u2019s a sin to burn a Jewish newspaper!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho said so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy grandfather, and he should know. He goes to synagogue every Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy father doesn\u2019t go to synagogue added Jerry, so I\u2019ll burn it.\u201d<\/p>\n When the wooden boxes began a slow burn, Eddie threw in the four potatoes.<\/p>\n \u201cThey only become mickies when their skins turn a crusty black,\u201d advised Jerry.<\/p>\n Now a mass of flames danced above the potatoes. The boxes were a glowing blaze, and then began to collapse.<\/p>\n \u201cHey guys, shouted Jerry. \u201cIt\u2019s Hitler\u2019s house!\u201d<\/p>\n A roar of \u201cYay!\u201d bounced off the bedroom windowpanes of Seabury Place.<\/p>\n In about ten minutes, an anxious Marty asked,<\/p>\n \u201cAre the mickies ready, Jerry?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, but how do we get them out of the fire?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI brought a fork.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK, but don\u2019t burn your hands.\u201d<\/p>\n With the mickies wrapped in the remaining newspaper, the four sat on the curb dining on their stolen dessert.<\/p>\n \u201cEddie, what are you doing this Saturday? We\u2019re going to Brighton Beach.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBrighton Beach? It\u2019s so far. By the time you get there, you\u2019re ready to go home. The last time I went there I was sunburned so badly that my mom took me to Bronx Hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, where are you going this Saturday, Joey?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going with my brother to Crotona Park pool.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNah, my father says people piss in the water there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, don\u2019t you think people piss in the ocean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCrotona pool is like a bathtub compared to the ocean.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Games continued on the asphalt street of Seabury Place. Punchball was pass\u00e9. The boys graduated to stickball. A mop stick was a poor excuse for a broomstick for stickball. But who had a corn-fibered broom? Jack saw a broom tilted on a second floor fire escape.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s Mrs. Stein\u2019s broom,\u201d said Marty.<\/p>\n \u201cShe doesn\u2019t need it, we do,\u201d replied Jack.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know she doesn\u2019t need it?\u201d asked Joey.<\/p>\n \u201cI was in her apartment yesterday to tell her she had a phone call at the candy store. Her floors dirtied my sneakers.\u201d<\/p>\n It was agreed that we needed the broom more than Mrs. Stein, but who was going to climb the fire escape?<\/p>\n \u201cJack, when you\u2019re in the playground, you climb like a monkey. You get it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey! It\u2019s in front of the building. Everyone could see me. I\u2019m not going.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen we\u2019ll have to use a mop stick.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe we could ask the big-fellas if they could loan us a stick?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t see any of the big-fellas.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The boys retired to Mrs. Baretz\u2019s bench outside her candy store on Boston Road considering their next event.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s put a penny on the Boston Road trolley track and see what happens.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOK Marty, put your penny on the trolley track and we\u2019ll see what happens.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt isn\u2019t worth it to me. I could buy a Hooten square of chocolate for the penny.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen shut up about putting a penny on the track.\u201d<\/p>\n In spite of Jerry\u2019s mom, games continued. Homework took second place.<\/p>\n Fifth grade began with thin spellers, thick math books and a thicker reader. Mr. Minin distributed mending tissue (precursor to Scotch Tape) to students who received books with torn pages.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The boys were at the threshold of puberty, but girls were still formless creatures that<\/p>\n occupied classroom seats.<\/p>\n \u201cHey guys. Did you ever see Rosalyn Fox come to school? She looks like her mother washed her then starched and ironed her before she came to class. If neatness counts, she scores a touchdown every day. I can\u2019t stand girls who\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHoly shit! Wow! Look up in the sky! Wha\u2019, \u2026 What\u2019s that thing?\u201d trembled Marty as he edged closer to Eddie.<\/p>\n \u201cGet off\u2019a me dummy. How should I know?\u201d<\/p>\n The boys squeezed closer together. Shoulders pressed against shoulders, knees coupled with trembling knees, their mouths were agape. They were stunned. The bright summer sky was eclipsed by the sinister appearance of a huge oval object. Seabnry Place was blanketed under a giant shadow. It was an airship that seemed to be suspended by strings like a marionette.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy wasn\u2019t it moving like the airplanes that pass by every day? I don\u2019t like this. I\u2019m gettin\u2019 outta\u2019 here,\u201d shouted Joey.<\/p>\n Jerry, although startled was as anxious as the rest. He had seen the Hindenburg <\/em>in the newsreels, but who expected it to hang over Seabury Place? On its rudder was a black swastika in a circular white field and encased in a red square. This assured Jerry it was theHindenburg.<\/em>He wondered,<\/p>\n Could it have come here all the way from Germany? Were there Nazis inside? What would they do to us after they land? Where is it going to land?<\/em><\/p>\n Eddie, shaken with fright sputtered,<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going upstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n Marty, who was just as anxious as Joey, put on an air of bravado,<\/p>\n \u201cOh, scardy-cat is going upstairs to his mommy.\u201d<\/p>\n With that, Joey said he too was going upstairs to ask his mother if she knew anything about the Hindenburg<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cHow would she know?\u201d asked Joey. \u201cYou don\u2019t buy a newspaper.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe don\u2019t buy one either,\u201d replied Eddie. \u201cMr. Suslow gives it to my father after he finishes it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah. I\u2019ll bet he doesn\u2019t know that the Hindenburg<\/em>flew over Seabury Place today.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen he comes home, I\u2019ll ask him.\u201d<\/p>\n Rapidly beating hearts and wobbly legs stumbled for home.<\/p>\n Jerry opened the door to his apartment to find his mom stuffing a chicken skin\u2019s neck to make helzel<\/em>(stuffed derma).<\/p>\n \u201cMom, did you see the Hindenburg<\/em>fly over Seabury Place this afternoon?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow can I see anything when our kitchen window shows me Mrs. Koletsky\u2019s kitchen? Wait until Pa or Izzy come home.\u201d<\/p>\n Izzy was Pa\u2019s bachelor brother. He moved into the apartment and became a barnacle for zero dollars a month, food and laundry included.<\/p>\n Pa soon dragged himself into the apartment and Izzy soon followed. Jerry ran to tell him about the Hindenburg<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat? A swastika?\u201d he said. \u201cNazis? How could it be?\u201d<\/p>\n He approached Jerry\u2019s brother, \u201cHarold, did you see it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t see it. I was in the apartment doing my homework.\u201d<\/p>\n Izzy joined in,<\/p>\n \u201cWhatHindenburg<\/em>? Wasn\u2019t he a German general? What was he doing here in the Bronx?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Pa said sarcastically. \u201cHe came here to draft you for the German army.\u201d<\/p>\n After dinner the family gathered around their small, Gothic Emerson table radio. It was<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Thursday, May 6, 1937. An excited Gabriel Heatter delivered a special report. The Hindenburg<\/em>drifted slowly over New York City. At 7:45 PM, upon approaching its mooring at Lakehurst, New Jersey, it exploded killing 35 of the 97 people aboard. A member of the ground crew was also killed. Herb Morrison, a reporter on the scene who described the disaster was in a state of sobbing hysteria.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The excitement of theHindenburg<\/em>wore off in a couple of days and the boys returned to the asphalt of Seabury Place. June was coming to a close. No more math tests, no more spelling tests, no more fountain pens and no more inkblots. A new adventure awaited the boys as they prepared to enter Herman Ridder Junior H.S.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A heated neighborhood rivalry between the Seabury Pawnees and the Minford Marauders came to a halt when Joey yelled, \u201cHey Jerry, get your mother off the field, this is an important punchball game!\u201d \u201cCut it out Joey, Don\u2019t talk about my mother like that. Did I ever say anything about your mother?\u201d \u201cMom, please… Continue reading The Bronx? Yes Thonx!<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4155","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4155","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4155"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4155\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4156,"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4155\/revisions\/4156"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4155"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4155"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.danielwolfebooks.com\/danielsblog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4155"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}