The Great Ice Cream Wars

One of my fondest memories of growing up in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn was the preponderance of mobile businesses. In the 1960s we had the milkman bringing fresh milk, egg, butter and a bakery man who brought donuts and bread. Every Wednesday the soda man, Mr. Charney, would deliver Whiterock soda and seltzer in the old fashioned spigot bottles and even put them under the sink for you. Mr. Charney's daughter was the long raven-haired and stunningly beautiful professional dancer who starred in the club scene in the movie, Sweet Charity. Mr. Charney was very proud of his daugher.

There was also a fresh fish truck, vegetable and fruit truck and knife grinder truck that came around every week. But even more memorable than those trucks there were the mobile amusement park rides; the swing and my favorite... the whip! What a life. Technology is only catching up now to the shop at home services that Amazon and Fresh Direct bring to us today. 

Aside from the above vendors there were the purveyors of delectable frozen treats... The Ice Cream Men. There were the soft serve ice cream trucks, Freezer Fresh and Mr. Softee. Aside from ice cream cones both made sundaes and thick shakes. My mother referred to ice cream sundaes as Frappés. Both had a tremendous selection of two flavors, chocolate and vanilla and the hybrid chocolate vanilla swirl. Then there were your ice cream novelty trucks, Good Humor and Bungalo Bar. We used to sing, ¯Bungalo Bar smells like tar the more you eat the smellier you are¯. At least I think I remember the words that way. But the ones I remember the most, the nobility of the ice cream trucks, almost a bodega on wheels, were Charlie's and Huba Huba. Huba Huba's real name was George but his call to prayer was "Huba Huba". Hence we referred to him as Huba Huba.

 

I don't think you had to wait more than 15 minutes before an ice cream truck showed up ringing their bells are playing their haunting jingle over a loud speaker. All the kiddies would come running out like a pack of hyenas descending upon a zebra carcass. Charlie's was my favorite. He had an old fashioned style white ice cream truck packed with almost any ice cream or candy that you could think of. An independent sort, he owed no allegiance to any ice cream manufacturer. He carried anything he wanted to carry. Charley was probably the first ice cream truck to install an oven and sell New York style square knishes alongside his frozen treats. A modern day miracle... freezer and oven in one truck! How in the hell did he keep his ice cream cold and his knishes hot at the same time? For some reason Charlie didn't have mustard for the knish but he did sprinkle a liberal amount of kosher salt on it.

Charlie also sold pickle flavored bubble gum which frankly was quite disgusting but really annoyed my mother when I ate it in front of her. Which made it worth it to endure the nasty taste. I loved to annoy my mother and was proficient at doing so.  Yes, Charley was a true pioneer of free enterprise and know how and exemplified the American dream of business ownership.

Charley and Huba Huba were not fond of each other and tried to not be on the same street at the same time. Ice Cream truck routes are serious business. These men are trying to earn enough money in the summer months to last through the cold and harsh winter months which for some strange reason people tend not to buy from ice cream trucks. I would.

 

In nature, animals urinate on trees and the brush to mark their territory. Most animals will respect another's range but sadly, if ice cream men peed on trees and car tires to mark their territory they would be arrested for lewd conduct and most parents would not let their children buy ice cream from them.

 

What do ice cream men do in the winter. Do they go into hibernation? Do they sell heating oil? I believe that after the ice cream season is over, all of the ice cream men, their ice cream wives and little ice cream children go to the Florida gulf coast and live together in harmony in a town next to the one where the circus and carney people go to each winter. On the border where the two towns meet everyone laughs at playful folicking clowns, gasp at amazing feats of aerial acrobatics, ride elephants and eat the left over ice cream.

The hostility between Charley and Huba Huba was growing. You could feel the tenseness in the air whenever they were in sight of each other. Huba Huba would inch up his pants and develop a small twitch in his cheek. Charlie would touch his glasses, straighten his white soda jerk hat, reach for his mustache wax and twirl the ends of his 'stache to make sure the points were sharp and ready for action. Huba, I'll call him Huba for short, was about 5"10" and around 250 pounds. Charley was the ame height and weighed about 180. Huba had the size and strength but Charley had the cunning and the endurance.

The clock struck twelve (actually the air raid siren went off everyday at noon as we were living under the possibility of an imminent nuclear attack from the USSR). It was high noon.

The sun was directly above and radiating it's heat upon the sleepy, dusty streets of Brooklyn. Bragg Street was a two way street back then. Charlie came from the south. Huba from the north. They both mosied along to the middle of the street seemingly taking hours to reach that point. Huba's step van and Charlie's old fashioned ice cream truck came nose to nose and neither would give way to the other.

The towns people stayed back to watch the event unfurl. No one wanted to get close as they were afraid they might get hit with an errant ice cream novelty if they should fly and missed their intended marks. Children ran to the protective arms of their mother's. Not really, the kids loved every minute of this and were betting on the outcome. Then the finger pointing started. Each pointed finger moved closer and closer to the other's chest. Charlie touched Huba first. Huba followed with his touch. Another touch to the chest, a parry, a parry in return. Huba gave Charlie a shove. Charlie reciprocates.

The fight is over. It is a draw.

Both men returned to their mighty white steeds and passed around each other while giving one last dirty look to one another expressing their disdain and contempt.

 

Why this stupid event is etched in my brain is beyond me.

There are still ice cream men around today. I don't think their breed will ever die. Mr.  Softee is undisputably now the king of the ice cream truck scene in New York. I haven't seen Freezer Fresh in years. There are still individuals who patrol the streets of south Brooklyn in their step vans such as AJ and George. George's ice cream truck is a regular fixture around Starrett City where my kids spent their early years. George was an old man in his eighties when my son played little league baseball and my daughter played in the dirt. Passing by more than twenty years later, George is still around and looks the same which goes to show the preservative and healthful effects of ice cream. There are also gourmet trucks in Downtown Brooklyn and Williamsburg selling mushroom and garlic flavored ice cream and ice cream made from petunias and rosemary. Yuch!

I am trying to find out how to get a reality series out of the Ice Cream Men to play alongside Ice Truck Drivers and The Most Dangerous Catch. If anyone has Hollywood connections feel free to use my idea and send me the royalties.