1951-52 Mr. Thaler's 4th grade class NorthsideSchool class
Students were identified by Gary DeCastillia, a 1960 Division Avenue High School graduate
(rows go up and down, not side to side):
First Row - Dammie Zimmekma, Carolann Ritzer, Bonnie Lee
Second Row - Gary DeCastillia, Midge Rist, Diane White, Patricia Walsh, Louise Nicolosi
Third Row - Georgeann Post, Diane Brown, Pamela Gaines, Joyce Coleman, Nancy Stitt
Fourth Row - Dorothy Kuppler, Dave Cahn, Tommy Archibald, Damon Solomon
Standing - David Spencer, William Brown, Gregory Snaric, Mr. Thaler
Those who graduated in 1960 from Division were: Gary DeCastillia, Louise Nicolosi, Diane Brown (deceased), Dorothy Kuppler, Damon Solomon and Diane White.
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By DAVE CAHN
My family moved to Levittown on the first day it opened, October 1, 1947, which at that time was called Island Trees. The next month, my parents founded the Island Trees Eagle (in which they suggested the community be renamed "Levittown"), later the Levittown Eagle.
We moved to Wantagh at the end of April 1952, but I finished the year at Northside.
I posted the 1951-52 fourth-grade class picture to the Levittown Memorial High School Facebook group, in case some of the kids went there, rather than to DAHS. In my post there, I said, "When I moved to 36 Pinetree Lane, there were only a few blocks of houses built by Levitt and Sons (the tree section), no stores, and no schools, just the sound of thousands of hammers building the nearby flower section.
My parents sent me to a private kindergarten for 1947-48. The next year, I went to the newly erected Wisdom Lane quonset hut with Molly Alter as my first-grade teacher.
Nearly every year thereafter, sometimes twice a year, I moved to each new school (other than Abbey Lane) as it was built: Gardiners Avenue, Division Avenue (Elementary School), Summit Lane, and Northside."
Did you really believe that after more than 50 years, the name of DivisionAvenueHigh School would be changed? Some of our readers took our April Fools Day story as being serious. Some were quick to catch on, while others were uncertain.
"I am heart broken about the name change. Maybe we didn't think the name was inspiring, but it defined us and where we lived. That was enough for me," wrote a class of 1963 member. "It will always be Division Avenue HS to me. Once again another precious memory is gone; how sad."
From a class of 1961 grad: "This could open a racist can of worms. Isn't it ironic that Jackie Robinson couldn't buy a Levitt house even if he wanted too (in the late 1940s and early 1950s). They now want to name a high school after him. Maybe some guilt is creeping in?"
"I think that the change of name is a wonderful thing, given that there was racism in the selling of the houses in Levittown in the 40's and 50's," wrote a 1962 graduate. "Jackie Robinson is an icon in the civil rights movement, the Interboro Parkway is now and has been for a long period the Jackie Robinson Parkway. So why not? A team name could perhaps be the Robinson Dodgers."
A 1963 grad commented: "I think it is great name for our school. It is ironic, given our past, but great. I am okay with it as long as we do not forget or deny our past. The history should be taught in civics class. I think we used to call it Citizenship Education. I was certainly surprised to hear about the name change."
From a 1960 graduate: "There is no doubt Jackie Robinson deserves to have at least a school named after him for his grace, courage and abilities. But in Levittown?, one of the last communities in Nassau to fully integrate? Seems a bit absurd." Absurd and ironic were the ideas behind the April Fools prank.
"I like it. Synonymous with pride, courage and character," wrote a Levittown Memorial High alumnus. "Any change would have been good but this is special. Levittown has come full circle." In case some readers did not know, Memorial no longer exists. Now that is sad if you went to school there.
Among the most distressed was a 1968 grad who Facebooked this to friends. "I'm so upset right now, just found out they're changing the name of my high school, after all these years! No more DAHS!!! And they're changing the team name, too!! It's just wrong."
She followed this up with, "I know it seems like a silly thing to be upset over, but a huge part of my life was spent in that school. I have no problem with the choice itself. I have always admired Jackie Robinson and his accomplishments. It's just the emotional tug of there no longer being a DAHS and the Blue Dragons."
One of her friends, also a Division grad, responded with "Idiots just can't leave anything alone."Another friend stated, " Interesting choice, since Robinson (my first baseball hero) wouldn't have been permitted to buy a house in Levittown in the early years because of the restrictive covenant."
A class of 1960 alumnus wrote: "To quote The Bard, 'A rose by any other name smells just as sweet'. Call it what you may, it will always be DivisionAvenueHigh School to me. If it must be renamed, Jackie Robinson’s name is quite appropriate. He was a great pioneer, as were we, and he went on to be an inspiring source for change. I think it is a great tribute to a great man I couldn’t be prouder of the name change. Of course, the nickname would have to be Pioneers."
On the other side of the coin, some of our blog readers caught on immediately.
From Jim Healy, class of 1960: "Me thinks this is an April Fool scam."
"I am distraught," wrote Jack Jacobsen. "I just had a Blue Dragon tattooed next to a Terrapin (U of MD) in celebration of the Class of '62 anniversary. Now I will have to have a tattoo placed on my back with #42 sliding into home plate. I am sad to see the name change (not counting the additional pain I will endure). I would have preferred Gil Hodges. Now I think the mascot name should be the Sliders. Happy April Fools Day."
NICKNAMES
Levittown was built on potato fields. Understanding our town's history and that the story was a put on, Marilyn Monsrud Frese suggested Spuds and commented "I always thought Division Avenue High School sounded like an elementary school (Summit Lane, Wisdom Lane, Abbey Lane)."
Arnie Galeota, a 1961 grad, offered: "How about for the Yankees fans nicknaming the school instead of Dragons, Clippers in honor of the Yankee Clipper Joe DiMaggio?"
Never for a loss of words, Warren Zaretsky from the class of 1960 wrote, "I think Jackie Robinson HS is a silly name, given the town was so white bread, had no rhythm, its clothing style came from Mays, its main food was Skippy peanut butter sandwiches, and Jackie wouldn't have been caught dead near a town called Hicksville."
Warren came up with a creative nickname, incorporating the potato theme, The Levittaters.
When informed that she had been scammed, one of the most upset people wrote, "I have never been so happy to be fooled on April Fools Day. I completely forgot about it. You got me good." Another who mourned the changes had this to say. "I can't believe I fell for that. LOL. I will get even."
This final comment was aimed, perhaps jokingly, at your blogger: "I say name them Shitheads, after you, for April fooling an innocent idiot like me".
Tim and Mitch Lavey are shown "guarding" early Levittown.
Ed Lavey was a wordsmith, storyteller, poet, artist, photographer and teacher.
Levittown CapeCods in 1951. The trees and bushes had yet to flourish and no dormers or garages are in sight, just three youngsters enjoying a sunny day.
Click on photos to enlarge.
By JEFF PEYTON
Class of 1961
My childhood friend from up the street, Bob Vitrone, and I took Kevin Byrne to Yankee Stadium. It was a doubleheader in 1961 and we watched Roger Maris en route to 61 home runs poke one into the right field stands. Not long ago, Kevin’s reflection on that day was published in Newsday’s “Thanks for the Memories” column.
“My favorite memory of Yankee Stadium was my first trip there as a 12 year old in 1961. Jimmy Piersall was in center field for the Indians. Two men jumped onto the field and ran toward Piersall.He fended them off and kicked one in the rear as he ran away. The crowd went crazy. Mickey Mantle was standing on second base with an umpire laughing,” according to Kevin.
From Armand Tarantelli, who was like a brother to my dad, I learned to drive. Both were long-time Division Avenue teachers. That I have come this far accident-free and still alive and my family safe, I have Mr. T largely to thank. (Tarry lives around the corner from Kevin Byrne in Levittown.) It has been one of the greatest pleasures to know Tarry and his wife, Ines, better than I ever did so many years ago.
I couldn’t hit or throw a baseball accurately in high school, but I played Pony League and as a catcher could stop most pitches and took many a throw from the outfield standing my ground at the plate. Pete Cybriwsky asked me to catch him for several weeks in preparation for tryouts with Yankee Rookies. Perhaps he asked others. Pete saw something in me that I was struggling to see in myself.
I took his friendship with me to NYU where I made the freshman team. I hit .400 that year, batted fourth in the line up, and played third base. Few would ever know or care, but at one of the reunions Frank Barning brought the subject up. He had stumbled over a record of my private achievement while looking through some old score books when he was the sports information director at Hofstra.
Pete wrote these words to me in my father’s 1960 yearbook. “Jeff, You are one guy in next year’s class that this school will be proud to graduate. You’ve got the intestinal fortitude of a warrior and a heart that is kind and aware of others. Thanks for letting me be your friend.”Pete, who died way too young, was early Levittown's star pitcher.
Ed Lavey was my friend and a friend to many—a soul teacher. I loved seeing him walk through the door of my house, with a broad, warm smile and a pipe that radiated friendship. I walked by the Laveys’ Orchid Road house on the way to school every day. Sometimes I’d poke my head in and end up wishing I could spend the morning and skip school. Ed was a wordsmith, a storyteller, poet, artist, photographer and teacher, He painted with passion and imagination in his carport studio. He was always involved in discourse or dialectic — deep in Thomas Merton, Alan Watts, Haiku, Zen. ‘Roofsmith’ in bold black stood out on his bright yellow truck. Ed worked hard, mostly by himself, although my classmate Wally Linder worked with him for a while. There’s an honorary picture of Ed in the 1961 yearbook because he took and developed many of its pictures.
He and beautiful Arlene and their boys, Tim, Mitch and Robin were often at the house. We sat around the kitchen table in regular reunions well into the 1960s. Ed had a deep and enduring effect on our small circle of friends, which included Pat Calderwood, Daria Marusevich, Jerry Reichert, John Fitzsimmons, Allie Greengold and Wally Linder. He made us question our way of looking at the world. Ed was close friends with the Fitzsimmons and Sandy Limouze then the Dean of Kings Point, and several school principals and a school superintendent, and Tom and Ann Thibadeau, (Bart, Paul, and Susan’s mom and dad). Tom taught English in Levittown.
In the early 1970s, after I was discharged from the Army and life swept me off Long Island, Ed and Tom were interviewed on FM radio. You can listen to that interview here. http://www.puppetools.com/mp3/
When you get into a conversation about great teachers, you necessarily move into terrain related to the reality of school itself. We all tend to romanticize the experience, kind of like we do when reflecting back on time in the military, but in my first hours in the Army my mind exploded with memories of elementary school. In terms of what one is free to do and what one is not free to do, in terms of the herding yelling, control, authority, and
the threat of punishment, both experiences collided. I may have gotten more out of playing in the catacombs and the underground tunnels of NorthsideSchool under construction than I did having to sit all day in school.
I have always questioned the value and legitimacy of formal education. And some excellent teachers I have known feel that way, too. In high school, I can recall my gaze affixed for weeks through the window on a man, maybe it was two, atop the Levittown water tower, painting red and white squares, and wondering where he got the guts and skill to do that all day long.
The thing about early Levittown is that as we grew up with it, it grew into us – got under our skin. Levittown was as much an invention as it was a place. We took part in its creation, even as it created us. Unlike towns with established histories, ours developed from scratch over time, allowed us to feel the freedom of young pioneers, to run and ride along labyrinthine pathways we all but owned.
I recall the day in October of 1949 when I stepped out the front door of 35 Snowbird Lane. It was flat and soundless — the sky an expanse of openness and the sun low in the sky — strange to eyes and ears used to the apartment buildings and the rattle of trolley cars of Brooklyn, no streets, road, trees, sounds, lampposts, sidewalks,just dark earth, and houses, many waiting vacant. I looked to my right and there, in front of the house next door, was a boy, smaller than five-year-old me. He was looking down, his head a shock of red hair against the mud brown landscape. He was a kid I would know for years to come. I recall that moment as a time stamp — the moment I landed as a settler. It was a lifetime ago, but it was a blink within a series of longer blinks of time and travel.
We never heard the explosion, but for sure we are all outward, far-flung stars in the wake of our own big bang.
Early Levittown, New York photos courtesy of Tim Lavey, DAHS class of 1963
Jeff Peyton, class of 1961, who moved to his new home town in 1949
By JEFF PEYTON
When my family moved from Brooklyn in October of 1949 I think my brain became
partitioned like the old hard drives, one side Brooklyn, the other Levittown.
Both are filled with teeming, sharply distinct memories.
While two teachers have a warm place in my heart, Bob Henebry and Bert
Chapman, they were like all teachers -- defined by a culture that few ever
rise above. Sadly, Henebry and Chapman left Long Island for parts unknown without
a way to keep connected. There were other teachers who lived in the
village outside of my classrooms. These people did things with me, shared
what they knew with me. Took me by the hand, won over my heart, opened
my mind, changed my thinking and sense of myself.
Like Major Harry Harmon, a Kansas Air Force vet. The Harmons, I think,
had two daughters. As a military family, they were “not in Kansas any
more,” but surely hoped to get back home soon. They lived near the corner
of Snowbird and Tanager. Their house inside was plain and unadorned. I
recall walking with Major Harry (I was eight) down to Old Motor Parkway. In
the dry-baked air of a Long Island summer seasoned with milkweed and wild flower
and the endless flit and click of toad, butterfly, moth, dragon fly and locust,
we became naturalists. One afternoon, I watched the Major coax a bee off
a puff of clover into his open hand. The knowledge that you could let a bee
walk across your hand and not be stung, as long as your hand remained
open, amounted to super power I had not seen in any comic book.
There was Gene, the Clover Dairy milk man, who let me climb aboard at
7:15 every Saturday morning. I can still summon the damp smell of ice and
milk in the truck and feel the morning air against my face, my arms stretched
across the open door. There was the weight of the bottles and the rare OJ
in the metal carrier, and the clean snap of the milk box lid falling shut, and
the sense of other worlds and people were just waking up inside the houses.
Around 9 a.m., my sneakers green and dew-soaked, Gene dropped me off at
home with a flip of a quarter at me through the truck door.
There was Bill Levitt who lived on Pelican just east of Northside school.
Bill had a small box-like Chevy van which he used for his moving business.
I was his regular assistant and navigator. We went everywhere — Nassau,
Suffolk, even into Brooklyn. I learned to use the old wire-bound Hagstrom
street atlas and kept Bill on the straight and narrow. There was the day we
moved a fridge up three flights of stairs in Jamaica. My pay was $2.50 an hour.
There was big Ray and his old Volvo station wagon. Ray delivered papers -- the Long Island Press, Newsday, The New York Times, The Herald Tribune, The
Journal-American. Ray picked me up at 3:30 on Sunday morning, and drove
over to the Meadowbrook Theater where we packed inserts for an hour or
more behind the great brick edifice that protected us from the wind in the
dead of winter. In Ray’s hands and fingers, cracked, hard and blackened
from newsprint, I could read the meaning of work and its corrosive effect
on the body and learned not to take a warm bed and a chance to sleep in for
granted.
I worked for Herbert Richheimer and Sons on the trash pick up crew. We showed up
at home improvement sites and filled up the dump trunk. A college friend
and I painted the NorthsideSchool boiler room. A guy named Carmine was
the head janitor. Long gone by 1966 were the old-timers, the two Northside
School custodians, Smitty and Mr. Sparks, with his blue eyes and white curly
hair. I can still smell the sawdust-cedar mix they pushed with their brooms
down the hallway. Smitty lived on Swallow Lane, his house at the entrance
to the back field of Northside. Smitty would drop a couple of Kraft caramels
into your hand as you passed him in the hallway.
Across the street lived the big kid of Snowbird Lane, Joe Byrne, a New York
City cop. Joe wasn’t supposed to live outside the city limits, but, an ex sea
bee, Joe was not afraid to break a rule. Joe played stick ball, curb ball, touch
football. You could call his name and out of his house he’d come. From Joe
I learned how important adults could be when they actually did things with
you, took an interest in you, and joined you in play. Joe lived across from
us for a mere six years, but it seemed like a lifetime.
When Joe’s son, Kevin, contacted my sister after my dad passed in January 2011, Kevin and I re-connected and then he put me in touch with Joe. Joe, 85, is happily married
and still roller skates just like he did at the Levittown rink, despite the fact
that he’s got a pin in his hip from a spill a few years ago. On the phone I
could have been talking to a man in his 30s. From Joe and experiences with
others like him sprang the seeds of play and a belief about education I am
Wandering Warren Zaretsky (1960) is currently traveling in Thailand but not by elephant Click on photos to enlarge
Pat Stanley Share (1962) with her friend Bob at the Musk Ox Farm in Palmer, Alaska. Link to the farm: http://www.muskoxfarm.org/
Annajoy Herman Romdalvik (1960) in Alsace, France
Don Davidson (1960) in Portofino, Italy
Marilyn Monsrud Frese (1963) and husband Don in Virgin Gorda, in the British Virgin Islands. Marilyn wrote, "The beaches are surrounded by these boulders of un-erupted volcanic lava that was left behind hundreds of thousands years ago as the sea washed away the covering earth, leaving this amazing landscape behind. These boulders are also underwater, surrounding the island. It makes the snorkeling and diving in the crystal clear water incredible. Virgin Gorda has no airport (except a tiny one for some small private planes). It's only a few miles off of Tortola and is our favorite Caribbean island. We have vacationed here once a year for the last 18 years."
“People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, the kind of people they ignore at home.”
• Dance recital in early 1950s. Sandy Adams (1960) is in center of first row and behind her is Martha Traystman (1960). Sandy provided the photo. We need help identifying other dancers.
•Cathy Burner, class of 1963, in 1958. Photo compliments of Toni Crescenzo Gelfer, class of 1968,
• Tim (1963) and Mitch Lavey early 1950s.
• Carol Binninger (1964) on a pony Sept. 1949 on Cord Lane in Levittown.
• Tom Filiberto (1963) at 18 months of age in 1947.
Precious few photos have survived from my Levittown days, 1954-1966. Believe it or not, my mother tossed them in the trash when she and dad moved to California in 1985, along with my baby pictures and other treasured family memories. You read about people going into burning homes to save photo albums at incredible risk. Yes, I have had to do some therapy over what mom did.
So when this picture was found in a box of old personal memorabilia recently, it was an important discovery. It was taken behind DivisionAvenueHigh School in the spring of 1958, our sophomore year. Shown are the infielders on the junior varsity baseball team coached by Mr. Robert Simes, one of our math teachers.
From left to right in our baggy uniforms are Steve Patascher, Richie Lohman, John Reardon, Richie Bernhardt and yours truly. It is truly amazing that three of the five of us all lived on Hyacinth Road. Lohman and I lived virtually across the street from each other, the Lohmans at #11 and the Barnings at #10. Reardon was at #66. Our 1960 classmate Ed Gifford, not a baseball player but an excellent wrestler, lived at #13.
Others on the JV team included Mike Caldararo, Artie Kornfeld, Jack Leahy, Doug Gibson, Jim Beebe and Stu Ronk. Gibson and Patacher eventually graduated from LevittownMemorialHigh School but nothing has been unearthed about Ronk who did not finish at our school.
A few readers of the blog have asked why I have put in innumerable hours creating Early Levittown and Beyond. There have been nearly 500 entries since I started this in July 2010. Maybe the reason is that my mother threw away the photos of my youth and I have had a desperate need to connect with those happy, care-free days. And it's cheaper than therapy.
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Mr. Simes' obituary...
Robert L. Simes of Smallwood, a 10-year area resident and a retired teacher for the Levittown School District in Levittown, LI., died Thursday, December 19, 2002, at the Achieve Rehab and Nursing Facility in Liberty. He was 80 years of age.
The son of the late James and Mary O'Brien Simes, he was born August 23, 1922, in Rhode Island. A World War II veteran of the Army, attaining the rank of sergeant, he served from 1943 to 1946. Mr. Simes was a member of St. Joseph's Church in Mongaup Valley.
He is survived by a daughter and son-in-law, Cathy and Michael Lorino of Smallwood; a brother, Ralph B. Simes of Honesdale, Pa.; a sister, Vivian Schomer of Connecticut; three nieces, Peggy Simes, Janet Crawford and Eugenia Hyman; a nephew, Jeremy Schomer; and two grandchildren, Robert and Brandon Lorino.
Jim Halpin (1960) at the Great Wall of China in 2009.
A freezing Frank Barning (1960) visited in 2006.
Franne Newman Lee (1960) at the Great Wall in 1986.
The Badaling entrance to the Great Wall of China.
A Great Wall of China souvenir stand. All items were made in China.
Chinese New Year 2012 - The Year of the Dragon - begins on January 23. DivisionAvenueHigh School graduates know about that ferocious creature because our mascot was a Blue Dragon.
However, only a handful of early DivisionAvenueHigh School alumni have had the good fortune to visit China. A can't-miss attraction is the Great Wall of China.
The Barnings had a chilly three-hour stop there while on an Asia tour in 2006. We visited the Badaling section of the Great Wall which is reputed to be the best preserved and the most popular oneamongst all the sections. It is more than 3,281 feet above sea level, and commanded a strategic position for transportation and defense in ancient times.
Badaling, literally meaning “reach eight directions”, got its name because the maze of its ridges stretches in all directions. It is easily accessible and has easy walking conditions.
According to the China Highlights website:
"The Great Wall of China is one of the greatest sights in the world. The longest wall in the world, it is an awe-inspiring feat of ancient defensive architecture. Its winding path over rugged country and steep mountains takes in some great scenery.
"The Great Wall is the building project with the longest duration and greatest cost in human lives, blood, sweat and tears. It deserves its place among "the New Seven Wonders of the World" and the UNESCO World Heritage Sites in China."
Frank Barning (1960) at Sydney, Australia's famous opera house in 2005.
Ira Selsky (1960) in the Golan Heights in northern Israel in 2008.
Pat Stanley Share (1962) in Kenai, Alaska. According to Pat, "The fish is a sock-eye Salmon, not edible to us in the lower 48, as it is getting ready to become bear food." She also does a lot of fishing in the Key West, Florida area.
Don Davidson (1960) in QueensGarden in Seville, Spain.
Eddie Rotker (1962) in Edinburgh, Scotland at an Adam Smith statue.
Click on photo to enlarge
