A Life Examined: The First Six Years

In my blog I occasionally make references to the history of Brooklyn. As I approach my older years I realize that my memories of growing up may be considered historical by my children and their children. Therefore I will be including  my memoirs to provide a historical reference as to who I am and provide insight as to what the hell happened to me.

I was born September 12, 1953. The same day that future president John Kennedy and Jacqueline Bouvier were wed. World War II ended eight years prior and the Korean War ended the prior year. The first space flights were less than nine years away and we were becoming embroiled in another war in Vietnam. We were also living under the shadow of a nuclear winter as tensions between the USSR and our country were escalating. Gasoline was less than 20 cents a gallon and cars got ten miles to the gallon and that was considered economical.

The first six years of my life where spent mostly on East 4th street and 18th Avenue in Brooklyn, We lived in a one bedroom apartment in a four story walk up on the 4th floor. Yes, Alyssa, I lived in an apartment and not in a cave. When my daughter, Alyssa, was younger she asked my wife what we did for fun when we were children. When Ilana told her we played hide and seek, ring-a-leevio, spud and watched TV just like children do today Alyssa said "You had television in caves?"

I have a lot of memories from East 4th street. For one there were lots of kids and there was never a want for companionship. We were known as the East 4th Street gang, The toughest and rowdiest gang in our building. Ronnie, Bobby, Franky, Ralph, Little Barry (I was Big Barry), Ricky, and Charlie to mention a few. To mention the fun things we did included tying all of our bikes up to form a train and chugged around the block, we ran up the block, we ran down the block, we pretended we were on a lion hunts and caught cats. Mind you we never hurt them and always let them go a just a little frazzled. I stopped doing this when one clawed my face and nearly missing my eyes. Believe it or not cats do not like to be caught and placed in bags.

The building had three small courtyards and each were designated after the kid whose apartment overlooked the yard. There was Frankies yard, Ricky's yard and our most favorite, Cecelia's yard. The reason for this was that Cecelia's mom always baked small sweet potatoes for us and passed them out though the window. There was another yard in the building next door but we were prohibited from going there after Ralph stuck his head through the black iron fence and couldn't get it out. For the life of me I cannot figure out why someone would want to stick his head through a fence. I think Ralph was trying to prove that his ears were not that large. They were Ralph, get over it.

Good times yes, but there were bad times as well and most of the bad times were  caused by Charlie. Charlie was a walking disaster area. He was what is known as a shlemiel (pronounced as shleh-meal). Shlemiel and shlemazel (pronounced as shleh-ma-zl) are two yiddish terms describing people who constantly have bad things happening to them. My friend Mark had explained the difference to me once. A shlemiel is a person who goes to the ball park with seats in the upper tier, buys a hot dog with the works and a beer and drops it. The shlemazel is the guy below who they land on.

During a rain storm Charlie asked me to help him close the hallway windows so the floors wouldn't get wet. My window had a ten inch triangle of broken glass that popped out and almost severed two fingers off my left hand. Charlie also punched Bobby in the face while Bobby was tying his Keds forgetting he also had a twig in his hand thusly puncturing a hole through Bobby's cheek. Charlie also hit Ricky in the head with a brick giving him a few stitches as well. I do not believe that anyone was spared the wrath of Charlie.

Then there was Cheryl. Yes ... Cheryl. All of the boys had a crush on Cheryl. Charlie and I were always vying for her attention. This may have been the cause of Charlie's hostility. I no longer remember who had won her affections but I do know that shortly thereafter we moved to an apartment in a two family home owned by my mother's sister, Margie, leaving Charlie without any real competition. While growing up I had two cousins living nearby that were approximately three years older than I was. Stan (who by the way is an actor from TV and movies who goes by a different name)  the son of Margie and Seymour and there was Larry (now a successful dentist in Pennsylvania)  son of my father's sister Esther and her husband, Hank.

Each weekend my parents asked which cousin that I wanted to visit. My choices were Stan, who was fun and entertaining, and Larry who hit me and inflicted pain. Hmmm? Did I want to have fun or ne subjected to endless pain and humiliation? Difficult choice. If only there was some other factor that would help me make my choice.

There was.

Brennan and Carr, the legendary double dip roast beef emporium on Avenue U and Nostrand Avenue. This was a no brainer. Ok dad, lets visit cousin Stan. What I cannot figure out even to this day is as I had the power of choice, how is it that every other week I had to visit cousin Larry?

In 1959 we moved to our new apartment on Avenue X in Sheepshead Bay. My parents dropped me off at my Aunt Margie's house the day before the move. The next morning Stan said that we are going to go war with the Brodleib boys who live up the block. Stan's strategy was that he will take care of the two older brothers and I am to take on Richie the youngest of the three who was my age. What I didn't know was that this was a play fight so when Stan said, "Ok Barry. Kill!", I went running down the block with Stan and trying to impress my older cousin I had tackled Richie and started banging his head into the floor. Finally I was pulled off of him and Stan said "What the hell, Barry! what are your doing! We're only playing!". 

Stan, this was an important piece of information. It may only be me, but I think some advance notice of this was in order.  Luckily Richie had the hardest head of anyone I ever knew and did not suffer any immediate physical damage even  though there may be some evidence that there may have been long term damage as Richie exhibited questionable behavior later on like having biting contests with his dog and dousing his hands with lighter fluid and setting them ablaze.  But that, as they say, is another story.

In 1959 Avenue Y was still a partially dirt road as so was a 1/4 mile of Nostrand Avenue leading up to Sheepshead Bay. Rainbow Lanes on Knapp Street was a vacant lot and the Sheepshead Bay Water Treatment processing center was less than half the size it is today. Incidentally, you may find it interesting  (or not) to know that the Water Treatment center is one of the largest in the country and processes most of  the sewage (human feces) produced by the three million plus inhabitants of Brooklyn that gets dumped into the ocean to feed the fishes that are so abundant in the New York Bight. About six years ago the odor scrubbers caught fire and stopped functioning. With typical city efficiency the rehab that was supposed to be done in two years has still not been completed creating a somewhat pungent earthy aroma when you pass by.

Rainbow Lanes has been closed down for several years and has been converted to a nameless warehouse type facility. Word is that it is a DOD/CIA terrorist

prison and interrogation center. The Burger King across the street probably loses many customers because of the treatment center odor but stays in business by supplying meals for the prisoners,  sorry I mean, detainees. This may be a human rights violation but I do admit that I have partaken in a double Whopper (number 2 on the menu) from time to time.

This was essentially the first six years of my life. How much of this defined my life I may never know. But every decision one makes and every experience one has contributes to the definition of that person. The East 4th Street Gang, Brooklyn style pizza, Brennan and Carr, Roll-n-Roaster and Nathans definitely played an important part in who I am today. There is a saying that you are what you eat. And conversely you eat what you are, whatever that may mean.