By BOB COTTER
Your bicycle story (September 4 blog post) kicked in a few more memories, and of course one triggers another. I left a comment about my English racer, and paper route. then thoughts of the paper route brought this one back. What I call one of my "Jean Shepherd*" experiences.
It was the summer before my 12th birthday, and Warren (Bobbin) Mcdougall needed a sub for his Newsday route. A two-week adventure to be sure. I proceeded out on Saturday morning to do the first week's collecting My knock on the door of a home on Boat Lane brought a huge woman to the front step. Her breasts were the largest I had ever anywhere encountered in my short life.
They were literally a shelf over my head, with a giant abyss for a cleavage. Remember the caterpillars that invaded every summer? One of them dropped right into that crevasse. Panic ensued....she, because this furry creature was now walking around between her boobs, and I because her next words were for me to get it off! GET IT OFF! Wait, you want me to go, in there? I didn't want to go anywhere near it, or them, but after much shrieking and shaking on her part, your intrepid newsboy rose to the occasion.
I took care of the interloper, said a red-faced thank you very much for the tip, hopped on the English racer and split. So began my career as a Newsday paper boy.
• • •
From Wikipedia:
*"Jean Parker Shepherd (July 26, 1921 – October 16, 1999) was an American raconteur, radio and TV personality, writer and actor who was often referred to by the nickname Shep. With a career that spanned decades, Shepherd is best-known to modern audiences for the film A Christmas Story (1983), which he narrated and co-scripted, based on his own semi-autobiographical stories."
He enthralled many a New York area lad with his tales on WOR radio starting in 1956. Your blogger considers Shep one of the major influences of his early life, especially his commentaries about the human condition. For more information, Google him. Some of his radio broadcasts may be found online.
Yesterday I discovered an old Levittowner, Bob Cotter (class of 1964), on Facebook. I remembered that he was my 1960 classmate Phyllis Cotter's kid brother and invited him to be my Facebook friend. I sent him the link to that day's blog post, Tim Lavey's story and photo under the headline, "Early 1950s memories of Orchid Road and the glorious sump." His reply was prompt.
Bob wrote:
My body left DAHS in 1962 for a program at Levittown Memorial, but my soul was always at Division, as we lived around the corner on Butternut. I lived at "the sump", built forts, climbed the power line towers on the Motor Parkway, and played in the unfinished foundation next to Engine Co. 2 firehouse on Hickory Lane. Wild blackberries, raspberries and I brought home lots and lots of toads...my mother loved that! I was a denizen of the Azalea pool.
Frank replied:
Welcome back, Cotter. That was too easy, sorry. Love your memories. Levittown was a wonderland for adventuresome kids. We really did not need much money, at least I didn't.
Bob replied:
Money? Large soda bottles were worth a nickel, small, two cents. With all the construction there was a gold mine of empties...baloney sandwich from the East Green deli was maybe half a buck...I had a 90-paper Newsday route at 13 and lived like a king.
Frank replied:
I loved baloney sandwiches. They were cheap and they were good, and a bag of Wise Potato Chips was the perfect accompaniment. I returned many a soda bottle, was always scrambling for change. The best was shoveling snow, real money, the kind you could fold.
Bob replied:
I mowed lawns for $2 a pop, $2.50 for a corner house and I'm still shoveling snow (Bob lives in Montreal). Memories of registering myself and playing Little League baseball at Redwing field...walking all the way there from Butternut Lane on a hot mid-Island flatlands Saturday...french fries in a brown paper bag from the drug store at the North Green...Walk-away sundaes and malties from Grants...Sorry Frank, but ya got me going.
Frank closed the exchange:
It's amazing how much Levittown "oldtimers" have to chat about. We were strangers to each other until today. Gotta go, Bob. I crave a baloney sandwich and a bag of Wise potato chips. Please pass along my regards to Phyllis. See you on the internet.
