Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

The thing that kept me on a level balance was that in 1933 I ran into a fellow named Charlie Arnold at the schoolyard of Daniel Webster School.  [ed: Dad would have been 14 years old]

In the Fall I went to the Marginal St. Center of which he was the recreational director. He was at this Center for a year when he was transferred to Central Square Center. I enjoyed the activities, games dances, dramatics.

I would rush through my homework and make sure that I was fed to get to the Central Square Center. I enjoyed this place, especially on school vacation.

I took part in a Christmas drama. The name of the drama escapes me but it had to do with "Heart" the second word. It was about the Three Wise Men on their way to find the newborn child that would be a Savior.

I was given the part of the strong king and had a beautiful dialogue to give. In the play, when I came upon a man on the ground and covered him with my cloak. The play went well. It was well received. Afterward, we went to the Center's Directors House for a party after the play.

I received a number of compliments and one woman said I did not think you had it in you to carry that part which was difficult and she was surprised that I was able to project strength that the part required. She said I projected the part to be regal and strong. Considering my reputation as a little ruffian.

While this part of my life was interesting, the other was getting worse for me. [ed: school]

It was getting hard to come up with the carfare which was a dime roundtrip. I could not participate in the extracurricular activities as it cost money. I was lucky to be able to get a uniform for the military drills we had. And in the Spring the Boston schools would hold their annual parade. 17,000+ schoolboys. Bands and march. The drills were run by the U.S. Army officers. We had a major and a captain drilling us.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

CJ, 4 years old

I do not know how old I was but my first remembrance was in bed in the room which would become my sisters' room.

I remember a tall individual looking down on me, and I was frightened.

My next memory is of sitting on Zia Philomena's lap and being pinched. She was to give me some care, but she did not care to perform this task.

I also had a playmate. I only remember two incidents with my playmate. It was a good start for me. She was a girl. [ed: Always the ladies' man :-D]

I remember being down in the yard. I was swinging on the yard gate. It was summer and behind me was the vegetables growing in their rows. In front, was my playmate. I do not remember her name. But she was dressed in a pink light dress with a darker pink belt and her dark blonde hair in curls.

Dad illustrated the little girl's curls

She was also drinking from tiny bottles which contained different colors of liquid fruit and when emptied serves as gum. At least she shared these and I chewed them as gum while I continued swinging on the gate. What we talked about, I don't remember. My next remembrance came when I was in our kitchen with my father and mother.

My playmate had died and they were debating whether I should go downstairs and have me pay my respects. She was waked in her living room. In those days it was the custom to wake the deceased in their homes. And the automobiles were starting to come in use and the funeral was held with horses leading the procession. And autos in the rear. Funerals were large at that time.

My mother finally agreed and my father told her to dress me in the trousers he had made for me.

I went downstairs into the parlor and my playmate's mother saw me come in and I remember her saying, "Joe, you lost a friend."

This much I remember. And many years later when I was visiting my sister, Olga with your mother, her brother-in-law, Peter came in. He married late and to Lillian Sacco. We talked about the old days. How he and his brother wired the building we lived in as electricity was starting to gain and gas lights were losing favor. So wasn't the horse carts. 

We talked about family and Peter talked about his brothers and sisters. He omitted one member and I said there was another sister and she died and I recounted my visit at the time. He thought awhile and turning to me he said you remember that? I nodded and he continued that she died of a childhood illness. 

In those days the medical profession was not any where as high tech as today. Hospitals were not in favor. If one was sick and was sent to a hospital it was to die. It was the attitude of the community.

As he was talking about his little sister, he turned to me with surprise and said "You remember that? You were three years old!" I replied "I remember that by not my age until you told me."

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:  

On July 5 of 1938, I packed what clothes I had, which wasn't much and I left for Waltham took the transit and then got into a bus that was operated by another transportation company (double fares).

I got to Skip's home on time and he gave me my orientation course. I was expected to do the janitorial work, during the winter to keep the huge furnace going. The Club was located at the main street almost at the corner of a side street and a good walking distance from the house. In the afternoon, I would change clothes and watch the floor and teach members games and keep law and order.

While I was 19 years old, I was still a minor and to be an adult and eligible to vote the age was 21 years old.

Skip also said I should be very careful about what I did. Because we were being watched. The residents were of the opinion  that the jobs we had belonged to the residents and not outsiders.

Also he was going to ask me one thing that would not or might not be to my liking and he would not ask me to do anything else like that again. Namely that on any [ed: Holy]  day of obligation and Sundays he wanted me to make sure that I went to church. [ed: Dad was Catholic].

If he and his wife did not go, they were not required to do so. He was a Methodist. She was an Episcopalian.He asked me this favor because if I didn't go to church people would probably accuse him of being an evangelist. That was not what he wanted. Also he knew that Fridays I had to eat fish. He said Doris and I like fish and we will have fish on all days of your obligation. Doris later when it came to those days asked if I liked certain fish.

He then said there is one other thing your salary. $15.00 a week. Which at the time was the national average income. In 1940 the government passed the first minimum law 40 cents per hour. I also would work on Saturdays and be off on Mondays. So on Saturdays I would go pick up my clothes at 5 pm after I closed the Club. [ed: Boys Club] He also had his sons double up and I got one of their rooms. I would also pay $8.00 per week for room and board. I would need to get lunch or dinner at certain times and I could get a good lunch at a bar type restaurant for 35 cents, 40 cents if I ordered pie.

Compared to today's prices and salaries my salary was nothing. But we had real money then. It was backed up by gold and silver. Today we have currency. It's paper without any gold or silver.

It was still depression time but our money went a long way.Today a newspaper will cost me a dollar plus. Where as I could get 50 newspapers for a dollar. Fruits were 10 cents a dozen. Movies were 15 cents, in Boston 25 cents and in some areas 10 cents and cowboy movies 05 cents. I opened a savings bank account and put $3.00 a week in the bank and more if I didn't spend all my cash.

I planned to work 1 year and the following year I would start my college work to become a social worker.

I would go home on Saturday night and Sundays I would hang around and on Mondays I would go into Boston on the ferry. 4 cents round trip.

I found out my mother had run up a bill with Dannucci [ed: grocery] and I paid $1.00 a week to pay that off. That was all I could do at the time.

While I was in the old neighborhood I began getting the idea that I would not like to live in East Boston. No even in Orent Heights which was a nice area.

I start this book and then decided to do the Lehman Book. Take the two together and consolidate into one taking the better parts and letting the others go.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Dad , early 1940s, wearing the white flannel
trousers. 

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

The next Summer of play school, Skip hired me to do work at his house. He bought a house and people said that wa a bad move because his boss who had to live in the Center's house and have employees next door and also connected with them. They also used the main house and he [ed: Skip] did not have the privacy that families had.

It was also nice. We built a wall and concrete walk. A lot of things. Doris [ed: Skip's wife] would have me stop for a break. I had lunch there, and dinner and went home.

While my repeat year was so so, when I went into the Junrion yrea, I noted that I had Wednesday and Thursday tow study periods on both dates. And one on the other days.

There was a rule in the school that if you were on the Honor Roll, you could check out of school and advise the study room teacher that you were on Honor Roll. On the days that yo had two study periods, one after the other the teacher had discretion and allow you to check ou for both periods. Mine were liberal and I got out right after lunch. It was a nice year for me. I had lots of free time to do my homework and be free for the Center at night.

I also visited my French teacher [ed: at the Donald McKay Jr. High School] and she greeted me with I heard you were on the Honor Roll. I showed the button that said Honor Roll. Even Miss Sullivan was thrilled.

My Senior year was the same. I maintained my Honor Roll status.

In the interim, Skip left theCenter. He had it out with the director. He had been promised by Max Nelson, the assistant position when Max was setting up the Center and he had Skip give up his job in New York and go with him to Boston. That [ed: position] never appeared. Also Max may have been jealous that one of his employees was living in his own home while he had to live with staff up the hill in East Boston.

Skip was out of work for months and he had to sell his house. He lost all his savings. The other thing was that he was what we called insurance poor. He carried over $10,000 worth which required a good monthly payment. He also had a second son.

Fortunately, he managed to get a position as Director to set up the Waltham Boys Club in 1937. And he promised me a job when I graduated in 1938. I don' t know to this day if it was a good move. At the time as graduation approached my teacher in accounting offered me a scholarship. His name was Sullivan. No relation to the Sullivan from my junior high school. I declined since Skip had promised me that I should go to his house in Waltham the day fter July 4th. Gave me directions and I was all set. He also said his wife would be at the farm [ed: Skip's parents] for vacation with the boys so we would have to sort of get our own meals.

Some time before graduation I was stopped by my French teacher, Clarke, who aske me questions about my ability on tests. He asked me if I wanted to get a 70% on a test could I do it? How about 90%? 100%? Each time I said yes. He walked away; he was disgusted. I thought that was great. But as time past I realized that he may have looked at my marks and he saw a red flag and wanted to make sure that I was working will all the cylinders. I wasn't. Ad he was deciding whether or not he coudl put me in for a scholarship. Boston English had a slew of scholarships given to it by its successful graduates etc.

I would not have taken it. My position would not have changed and it would become worse with having to purchase books etc. Money was still tight and my poor mother went to get me a pair of white flannel trousers. [ed: Story I heard from my mother. The graduating class had to wear white flannel trousers. Dad's mother went to work to earn the money to buy the material. His father was a tailor. For whatever reason, his father didn't want to make the pants, but his mother shamed her husband into it. ] I graduated but neither of my parents came. My mother would have if my father took her.

I was able to buy my school ring. I just made the price as Skip had asked Max Nelson to get me some work and that's how I was able to get the money. The only remembrance I would have. No photo book. That didn't bother me. I did not make any friends I would keep. My schoolmate were doing thing I could not do. Gout out to movies, dances, etc. it cost money.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:    

My second sophomore year was so so. My problems were the same. I could not try out for sports because they were held in another section and it meant additional carfare and late hours getting home.

I had been given some credits for my first year as a sophomore and I had more study hours. So my homework was mostly done. I would finish at home and then go to the Center at night. Thanks to my mother who told my father that Mr. Arnold was a good man and that I looked up to him. So my father let me go to the Center.

There was one Christmas, I think 1935, where the story [ed: play] was of the Three Kings going to see the Christ child. On the way they came across a dead man. My part was that of the strong king and my part was long and beautifully constructed. When I was through I walked up to the dead person, took my cloak off and gently laid it on him and we marched off the stage. The End. The play was well received and we were invited to the Director's home for a collation. This was on White St. in East Boston. This area, where the high school was located was the area to be in [ed: wealthier part of the city]  and in the Revolution streets which bore the name of the battles in that war.

Now Donald McKay who was builder of clipper ships when Boston was the harbor of the U.S. at one time. And these clippers were built in East Boston. His master carpenters built many of the homes in the area for themselves. All they paid for was the land. As far as lumber, marble, granite, they got free. Some time the ships got to their foreign port, unloaded the cargo and did not have any cargo to bring  back. To balance the ship, the sailors would go into the woods, chop down trees or take granite or marble depending what was available to serve as ballast to keep the ship on an even keel when they were headed for home. Unload the ship and throw its cargo in a pile.

The master carpenters would then if they wanted to marry, would take what was available and build a beautiful, solid house. The beams were 4 x 4. They were pricise, smooth and where the beams came together on the roof support you would have a hard time finding where they met. The fireplace was a work of art. The mantel  was held up by beautiful sculpture figures. Solid mahogany floors and weather tight. The Center owned two of these homes. One for the Director and his family and the other for women employees.

I was complimented by the art director and others. From her it was an ace. She said considering what I know of you, I did not think that you had it in you. Your body gave off strength when it should. Your voice change just right in the different parts and so gentle when you laid your cloak down. So I was an actor what did she expect.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Olga, age 6-8?

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

My sisters were my mother's duty to teach them to be good housekeepers and cooks. Which was standard in the community. They were extra good. Both kept their houses in condition. They were fussy about their homes and putting on meals. Their homes were so clean you could eat off the floors.

When you were six years old, we went to Olga's with The Brother and you told your Aunt Olga having been there before, "Auntie, you put up new curtains." With that statement you won her heart. She said I don't always keep curtains up too long and change them regularly and you're the only one that noticed in all the years [ ed: Auntie would wash her windows and change curtains the day after it rained]

Bobby or Chickie as he was called was the last born. Mother had 4 miscarriages. She called Bobby her little chicken because it would seem that he wasn't growing at all. He sprung up and also dropped school. When he was called to the Service [ed: Army] he was told to do extra work by studying and getting his high school education. He did very well.

It was Olga's chore to take Bob for outdoor time. I would take the carriage down all 3 flights. One day she dropped Bobby on the stairs. He got too heavy for her as he was growing and added weight. Needless to say Mama had a good scare and fortunately, he wasn't hurt except that he cried. My mother was wondering how she was going to get him outdoors etc. I volunteered to take him for his airing. So I would take the carriage downstairs and go back get his bottle of milk, put it in my back pocket and then take him down. [ed: There was a 10 year age difference between Dad and Uncle Bob. Dad never called his baby brother, Chickie, but called him Bob or Bobby]

When the other boys saw me pushing the carriage they began calling me "mama boy". Fighting words. This didn't last long, a few days, because I would stop and say, Ok, make fists and protect yourself. I beat them up and they stopped.

My brothers and sisters loved me and so didn't my brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law. They were wonderful people.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Uncle Mario, age 12 or 13?

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Stepping back, my brothes and sisters got along well. And each had their own friends.

My brother, Mario, was a problem at school and at home when we were in grammar school. My father gave up that he would be a scholar. And there were complaints from school, etc. And our community was still old-fashioned as we, the born in America children, we were all for America, while elders maintained their views which were  European. And an attitude that Americans were stupid. They criticized our system. And then there was the group that adopted American ways. They became citizens but somehow held fast to European customs.

My father could not accept Mario's attitude and his concern was that he would eventually cause a lot of big trouble. So he evidently got Uncle Vincent [ed: a lawyer] to use some power with the people in charge of our government and had Mario put in a state school for children that eventually could become criminal minded. And Mario was sent to one. I forgot what it was called. Father was criticized because Mario didn't do anything bad. At that time, in fact even the employees at the so called school asked what he was doing there. He hadn't committed crimes or came close to that. Mother was heart broken and never forgave my father for doing that. At the time, I was still too young to know what it was all about. Mama went to see Mario and took me to Holyoke [ed: Massachusetts] by train. Mario wanted to come home and wanted to know when. She told him soon. Just be a good boy and he would be home. He stayed there about 4 months.  School was not for him. And he got to be an errand boy and helper for the oil man. And later got a job with him. And when he was old enough went into the building trade. Drove trucks, and moved furniture furntiture, pianos, lumber.

He had a heart of gold and his bark as it was said was worse this his bite.

[ed: Part of what I was told about Uncle Mario. My mother told me Mario had been sent to the Lyman School for Boys in Westboro, Massachusetts. Coming from the city, it would have seemed like Dad and his mother were traveling clear across the state. Westboro is in the middle of the state and to a Bostonian right at the end of the earth. Students at the school, according to Wikipedia , were subject to harsh discipline. When I was a kid, we would pass by the school on the way to a shopping expedition at Spag's in Worcester. My mother would threaten if we were not good, we would be sent to the school. Like going to school with the nuns was a cake walk :-D

Boys also learned a trade ( masonry, caprentry, plumbing, etc.) at the school. I'll have to check with my cousin to see if he knows the name of the school where is father was sent.

What Dad didn't mention was Uncle Mario was a skilled bricklayer. He was a big man. Looked like a refrigerator with a head and had hands the size of hams. I heard stories of the mass quantities of brick he could carry in a hod. Uncle Mario put in brick steps with wrought iron railings at my parents house. The brick work lasted nearly the entire 58 years my parents lived in their home with only a few minor repairs to the brick. He also installed an iron pipe clothesline set in concrete for my mother.  That thing with stood hurricanes, blizzards, ice storms and was still solid the day I sold the house. Uncle must have learned masonry at the school.

I speculate what Dad said he was too young to understand about Uncle's situation. This was during the middle of the Depression. Dad's father was not working or bringing in very little income. My grandmother had worked at a candy factory, before or after she was married is not clear. One thing about my family, the elders rarely talked about what happened while growing up and never talked about other relatives in the area or back in Italy. And we kids were not interested in family history to ask the questions.

Anyway, my grandparents had 5 children. The two oldest, Dad and Uncle Mario, were growing, teenage boys. Not much income, barely able to make ends meet, little food. Dad went to live for a time with his mentor, Skip, and Uncle Mario was sent to the reform school.]

Throwback Thursdays - The Notebooks

 To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

During this period, Skip would have sessions with me. We would do chores together while he would comment about the difficult work was as to labor and how glad he was that he didn't need to do that for a living. He knew that I had dropped out and of course suggested I should consider going back. I was still young and etc., etc., etc.

Before the end of the play school, I told him that I would go back to school. He was happy and he told me that one of the things that the different works at the Center, himself, the boys workers, girls etc. had to pick one person and train them so that they could run the Center and they would then go and do the same thing in other areas.

On the first day in September that school opened, I went. I was directed to a room where other dropouts were sent. And have a talk with the teacher. The one that interviewed me said your marks are pretty good, let me go see if the director will allow you to go into the Junior class. He came back and said no. So the second time in my life I had to repeat a class again. That first time was in the second grade when I came down with yellow jaundice which kept me out most of the year. And I was glad that I didn't have to have same 2nd grade teacher. I didn't like her. I had to repeat the 2nd grade because I was out too long and missed out doing a lot of the work that was required.

My return to high school was uneventful. I had more study periods than others as I was given credit for some of the work that I had done. This gave me a break. In that I did not have to do a lot of homework as I would have had to do. So it got me to go to the Center at night. I also went to to the library and was able to go to the big one and and at night and I also picked out books for my father. He liked to read books written in Italian.

Skip kept me going with the Center. I also did audition for parts as the Center had a dramatics program. While it was a church at one time, the main area was one flight up and there was a stage which the Center used. In fact, the right and left pews were taken out and they built rooms on each side for various activities. We even had people coming, they were volunteers. They taught us how to fall when shot without hurting ourselves, or fighting without hitting the other person. Elocution, everything. We put on plays and blackouts. These were short plays that had a comical ending and the stage lights would go out. The school vacation was lots of fun at the Center. In the belfry, a radio station was set up and we had a chance to broadcast outside and inside the building itself.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Age 19 or 20

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Anyway during this time period, I was making my mind up that I was going to quit school. All I had to do was wait until I was sixteen and I would not have to run from the truant officer.

March 17, 1935 I became 16 years old. April, May, and 26 days before the school term ended, I dropped out. It hurt my parents. I was just disgusted with everything. Jobs were scarce for you. Who ever ws in a position to hire would think twice to hire a child. At one time they would do so at 14 years old. The law had been changed and you had to be 16 before they would be able to hire. But it was usual to hire boys only for jobs that were for boys like running errands.

Where I could get a job was a big problem. There were none. The local stores just about made out. There was the First National stores. They sold coffee, butter, cannded good, eggs. This was the forefunner along with the A&P, a competitor, the beginning of the chain stores which would have their start after WWII. Their products were excellent compared to today. A 16 ounce can of coffee was a dollar. When it was brewed in the morning it gave off an aroma that woke one up. It tasted a hell of a lot better than what we get today.

Tonic [ed: soda] was wonderfully tasty. Every bottled goods or packaged, or canned made a statement. "made from all natural products."

I went to the Center and there Skip asked me if I would volunteer for the summer school, that he would be running for pre and kinder children. As long as they were trained [ed: toilet trained] I would have a lunch with the kids and teachers, dry dishes and maybe have to do a little bit of work.

The children would be checked every morning by a junior year med student. His father was a doctor and he was following in his father's footsteps.

The teachers were any where from [ed: college] sophomores to seniors. And who ever hired them knew how to pick them. Besides being knowledgeable, they were lookers. 35 of them. I had a nice time chasing them. It was the best summer of my life.

There was another boy that would help out after lunch. He didn't chase the teachers.

I recall this little girl coming into the room. It was a large room, the chairs and tables were not set up. Her shoelace came untied and some other kid told her she was going to get punished. I sat down and calmed her down as I was tying her shoe. I assured her that no one would touch her. I would not have anyone do that. She was the younger of two sisters and they both were beautiful. The staff and teachers marveled at their being dressed and looks.

I got that chore down and I got up. As I turned to get up, I saw Julie Dwight looking at me. She was the assistant to Kay Campana.

A day later, I was teasing Kay when she asked me if I loved Julie. I sure did but I was defensive. I thought I might be being set up. Julie was a beautiful girl. Older by 2 or 3 years. Nice background. Father was an engineeer. And she lived in Newton [ed: well-to-do suburb of Boston compared to East Boston]. Kay asked me more than once that morning. But I told her I could speak for myself and I got out of that situation.. Julie when I turned my eyes on her after tying the little girl's shoes, was looking at me with eyes that took me in. Had I walked over to her she would have wrapped her arms around me and said those three little words. I would have had a girlfriend (steady) I don't know what the outcome would have been. Besides, I did not have any pocket money. At the end of the summer I would receive $10 for helping out at the play school. A dollar a week.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Although I enjoyed my activity at the Center, I was also at the point of frustration. My father insisted that I should go to Boston English High. He did not believe that East Boston High was for me. It was boys and girls and he wanted me to go to an all boys school.

So I put in for Boston English. My grades were ok and I was accepted. [ed: Boston English High is the oldest public high school in the United States. You need to pass an examination to be accepted as a student]

Everything changed for me. The Depression got worse for our family and it was hard to come up with the car fare [ed: subway/trolley fare] which was 5 cents each way, and also lunches to take to school.

The school had students from different sections of Boston and they came from areas that were better off economically.

Gone were the days when one planned for holidays. The parties were gone. We could not invite relations and celebrated alone. And not with th usual goodies. birthdays.

It was very different for me. My lunches were not like the students [ed: the school was located in Boston's South End, a predominantly Irish-American population. Though Dad was born in this country, his parent were not. Dad would have been looked upon as an immigrant.] I could not [ed: afford to] participate in the after school programs. So I went to the Center for my recreation. My father was not earning enough money to keep up with things. Just about made out. He could have had other work but refused it. He was a tailor, his fingers were supple for cloth and needle. He hoped to stay a tailor.

Uncle Vincent got him a job at the Bath House and Gym in our section to the city. Giving out towels. He was embarrassed to do such a lowly job. He did not have the ability to make wine for lack of funds. And the so called friend he had at the house every weekend, he could not afford to have them in. They dropped him and went over another house where they pitched in a nickel and played and also the pot went to pay for the drinks. And no food.

He was really heartbroken. He felt that he had been used. [ed: When Dad's father hosted the card games, he didn't charge his guests for the food and drink provided and the players didn't chip in any money.] And moped about it. My mother at one time told him to forget about it. He could not afford to sit in the card game. He said he kniew that and he wouldn't attend if they invited him. He said all he wanted was to be invited so that he would know that they still thought of him and were his friends. Which he said under circumstances was all he wanted which wasn't much.

So he took up with another group in the next block. These were the Arianase people. [ed: from the Italian town Ariano Puglia, later Ariano Irpino] Your mother's to be people. Thick headed people. [ed: 😂, sorry, I can't help laughing] The old-timers as they were called. His personality changed.

He also did not want my mother to go to Rocco's store, a local market for pasta, canned goods, etc., a grocery. She was to go to Danucci's grocery.

Rocco at one time had tried to court my mother. When I went with her when I was much younger, he wold look at me and say, "You should have been my son."

Any time my mother went there, she went on the quiet. He had a good line of goods and his prices were lower. I guess my father was jealous and so was the grocer's wife. If my mother was there, she would walk in the store. All she had to do was walk out of the hallway into the store a couple of steps down. She was a jealous woman. She knew that my mother was her husband's first choice.

When I was much younger, I would be sent there at times by my mother and also to the bread store across the street and the baker's wife would give the children a little cookie. 

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Charlie and his family 1946 or 1947

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

The Summer of my 14th year[ed: 1933]  was fun. The schoolyard was open, Charlie Arnold, or Skip, as he wanted to be called, played with us. And for the onlookers, it probably was, who was that big kid playing with the other kids? He looks like he is having more fun than the children although he is a grown up. A man!!!

In fact, Skip and the other social workers were surprised that the school yards were closed when school was let out. Play areas were scarce. We had a playground that was rather crowded and most of the time it was the older boys who used it for baseball or football.

To the left facing the building that was used for dressing and undressing, for uniforms and showers, was the dump and to our right another area used mostly for picnic and fireworks when, in the Summer each section of the Italian community honored their Italian section saint in Italy. So in July and August there would be two to four festivals and two with fireworks. And these were not only those that were sent skyward and exploded in different colors and also those on the ground that when they lighted up showed some art work. And the last that was lit like all the others started at one point and it was the stars and stripes. And the band that marched to the fireworks played The Star Spangled Banner. And we clapped hands, and sang, and walked home.

One Summer day we were playing in the schoolyard and word came that there was going to be a rally. We began running to it. All we had to do was run up the hill, turn the corner and we were at the spot where we helped ourselved to rocks and began throwing them at those on Bremen Street. Skip came running and when he turned the corner he was shocked. A rally to him was that some people were going to speak. He began getting after us to get into the play yard before the police came and as heard the glass windows of the shoe factory being broken.

He spoke of this event to other soical workers when he described the conditions of the area. How it was decided to locate the Center in East Boston, when those who were to pick a location saw children in the outskirts of the railroad, shooting dice and gambling. Also there wasn another problem. We would go to the railroad yards throw rocks at the train as it was moving the freight cars. And those employees that were in the coal car would throw coal at us. We would gather it up and some would bring it home for cooking, used it for fuel for heating. It was soft coal and it sent up a foul smell.We would use it down the cellar for a picnic fire and cook hot dogs. It would not be too long before the smell would rise to the apartment and we would hear a numbeer of the residents coming down and we would run out doors and out to the street.

The Summer passed and a week before school opened or a little before that our play yard was closed and Skip went to the Center at Marginal Street. This was a streeet that was also where the ocean hit the beach. It was deep and during the immigration period, ships docked there and across the street the people were directed to the building and had their passports and papers verified and where their relatives waited while they were  cleared for entrance to the USA. The Government gave up the bilding and the Hynes fund took it over. Charlie Arnold lived on the top floor of this building with his wife and their son, Everett.

We spent the Fall and Spring season there for our activities. And at some point, Skip was sent to Central Square Center. I followed and participated in some activities.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

I was a problem to the teachers. In the seventh grade to the ninth grade we voted for hall assistants to help the teachers during class changes. One of the girls in my 7th grade room took a liking to me. She wanted to be my girlfriend. She was cute but not bright. Anway, she put my name in as a candidate. She also got the girls to vote. When my name was called, some of the boys voted for me and all of the girls stood up. Even my girl opponent. Teacher's eyes seemed to go up. It surprised her, she looked at me and the girls. Counted the vote and then called for the girl candidate. Then the run off. I won but I did not get to be the assistant, she [ed: teacher] picked the girl. My guess was that I could create a problem when we were changing classes. Amd I'm sure that my repuation didn't help.

Anyway exam time came around (this in the 9th grade) and my French teacher told me, "You have been out of my class so many times that you're going to make me look bad because you will flunk. You weren't in class long enough or often enough."

I said, "Don't worry about that," I said, "if I pass the test will you give me an A." She said yes.

I took the test. In due course she came to me and said evidently the little time you spent in my class you must have paid attention. You got a C+. I said That's an A. She said that I can't do, there will be trouble if I do that. And I got the C+ for the year.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

 This was 1933 the year Charlie Arnold [ed: mentor] came into my life in the summer of that year. [ed: Dad was 14 years old] Evidently the Board Members of the Central Square Center and funded by the Hynes fund had clout. They opened the playground. For years summers every summer the school yards were closed. And also at the end of the school day, holidays, etc. They were closed. Of course, that did not prevent us from climbing the fences and getting in. We also had to watch for the police. They had keys made for them and they could get into the school and then open the door into the schoolyard. We played in the Jr. high school yard [ed: Donald McKay School] The play yard was large and we played not too far from the 8 foot fence. When the look out hollered, "Guinea Walligi" [ed: derogatory term for police officer], we scrambled to the fence. We had to do that the first part two feet above the ground, the 2nd movement on the cross bar 4 feet above the ground, 3rd 2 feet up = 6 ft. and the last effort 2 ft more on the 8 foot cross bar, hang on the other side and drwop down and off we would go. Sometimes the Guinea Walligi would chase us on the street we would run into the building, up the the 3rd floor to the roof and then jump from roof top to roof top and elude the officer. [ed: the houses were so close together neighbors in different houses could pass sugar through a window]. We were always on the look out for him. Of course, we told our friends to make sure that the roof doors were open. If they failed us and we got caught, they would be mud. At the time we also had the school build by the church [ed: Our Lady of Mont Carmel School] When it was due to open we climbed the blocks to the second floor window. They were indented about the length of the finger tip. I tried it. I got to the top but on the way down the feet and fingers were slippery due to the silicon and I fell to the ground. As I went down I hit the side of the water pipe and when I landed I noticed by right leg trouser was torn and so wasn't the sie of my leg on the knee side. As usual I walked to the Relief Station and I got put on the table while the police on duty held me down and the interns and nurses while the octor stitched me up. No ether, no putting to sleep. I did not let a sound come out of me. I said to myself I'm not going to holler. Took 5 stitches. The police officer must have been surprised, probably spent a lot of time there and heard many a boy or man cry out. Doctor said, "Ok, you can go now," and I got off the table and walked out. The officer had a "that kid is one hell of a tough guy. Imagine not a peep out of him and going like nothing happened. I got trained to not to hurt. My teachers used the rattan when ever we kids acted up. My ninth grade principal, Miss Sullivan, who much later became Superintendent of the Boston school system. In my French class, I had a teacher who was cute, had a good sense of humor and if we acted up she would kick us out of the classroom. One such day I ran into Miss Sullivan in the hallway and she asked, "What are you doing out of class?" I told her and she took me into the classroom Told Miss Livone that she would have to witness discipline after class. So I put my hand out, Sully went to work. It was spring at that time and I had been playing baseball catch and both hands were toughened by the catching [ed: he didn't have a baseball glove] No reaction. No pulling back. Sully was frustrated and she got a work out.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

age 9

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Once I got on the street I played with the other boys. We played football on a cobble street. We would get a bag and fill it with paper and make it look like a real football. There were not many cars in the 1920s most of the traffic was in the day time, mixed with horse and wagons or men selling out of push carts. What was purchased, he or she got their moneys worth. Newspapers were 2 cents, macaroni (pasta) was 3 cents per pound. Fruit was sold by the dozen. 10 cents a dozen. Veggies less.

Work hours were at least 12 hours per day at 10 cents per hour for workers without a trade.

I was bout 10 years old when I began to play football, baseball, soccer. In fact, I was looking to try out at jr. high school. At The Depression that game was discontinued.

At 12 [ed: years old] I was to go to the local library and could only take out 2 books.And I began to read the science books. Astronomy was my favorite subject. The library was small. It was an old house that belonged to the Kennedys [ed: Joseph and Rose Kennedy, parents of President John F. Kennedy]

The big library was in Central Square area but you had to be 14 years old to go there. And I did. This was a big deal because we could take out 4 books each time.

At the little library my sole books that I read were science books. The library was near my cousin, Ned's girlfriend. She asked me if I knew what I was reading. She said go when I said yes and explained the planets and the shape of our world and Columbus' discoveries. The next time that girl came in to see her I was checking books out and I heard her say "you should see the books he reads!"

I also played baseball, although it was not a favorite with the [ed: Italian] community. "What's the baseball and the football. Learn a trade at least you'll be able to support a family."

And like all immigrants the language in our area was Italian. Once in awhile someone would say speak to them [ed: the children] in English. The reply: They will learn the language in school and so it went.

I also in time progressed I did some boxing. It started with two older brothers coaching a young brother (a bully) to beat up everybody. I watched and then they picked on me. And at twelve I did very well. I hit that bully so many times that his brothers would have him go down to get a rest while the referee counted. He never touched me and I became a sort of a hero and was challenged many times after that. Which gave me a bad reputation.

We also had rallies.We would get bushels, pails of rocks, whatever and throw them at kids over the other street and of course once in a while would bounce on my head and I would bleed.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Dad's father, Achille, nicknamed Archie Todisco

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

From my birth [ed: 1919] to 1929 things went well for my father. He was a journeyman custom tailor and made good money. Like a lot of people of that day he did not have anything to do with banks. He set aside savings in his own pocket. Probably kept his savings under the mattress which was the custom and had at least one hundred cash on his person.

Until I was old enough to go on my own my father took me with him, to visit aunts, uncles and I remember he took me to the theater in the North End. Actually it was more of an opera house. We had seats up front. All I remember was singing with live actors and actresses and shooting. The name I did not know.

He did not take my brother Mario or Olga or Emma. By the time that they were able to go things began to go [ed: The Depression]. It was no big deal for me, most of the time it was all adults. No other children around.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

Samuel Adams School, East Boston

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Our playground was the streets. Of course, I gave trouble. When I was eligible to go to kindergarten, I would cry and wanted to go home. I got sent home and for a while my mother would take me to school. I would cry and be sent home and it was finally decided that I would be enrolled for first grade. [ed: I don't blame Dad for wanting to go home. Because Dad was left-handed, the teacher tied his left-hand to the chair to force him to write with his right hand.]

First grade was ok for me. I met up with my second love, the teacher. She was a looker. Miss Mulidy. I talked my mother to have her come for dinner. I pestered and she agreed.. But it was for lunch. I was in my glory and she [ed: the teacher] had an Italian dinner and I went back to school with her.

My second grade was a disaster. I didn't like my teacher. She wasn't so hot looking. She was old. To make matters worse, I got hit with yellow jaundice and stayed out most of the year as it was catching. So I had to do the second grade over again.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

My mother had two sisters Zia Philomena and Lucia, and two brothers Vincent and Luigi. The two brothers were singers and so was my mother. They had beautiful voices. [Ed: both brothers were barbers. Vincent went to Suffolk School of Law and became a lawyer in the mid-1920s. In the early 1960s, he was appointed a judge to the East Boston Municipal Court]

Aunt Philomena married and lived down the street from us. Uncle Mike was a good in-law uncle. When Mario [ed: kid brother] and I were in our early teens hanging around the tin store [ed: corner newstand with corrugated tin roof] in the evening. Uncle Mike had a shop in Lexington and by the time he got home via buses and street cars, it would be 7:30 or 8 pm. When he saw me or my brother, mostly my brother, he would say, "Come with me." He would take either Mario or me, whoever was around to his house and have dinner. with him.

His children would be in bed. The aunt ate with the children and he did not for some reason like to eat alone.

Zia Lucia lived on Paris St. not too far from us. Just over the bridge. She had two boys and three girls. She was the oldest of the sisters and if anyone asked her who was the oldest she would point to my mother or Aunt Philomena. Her husband, Uncle Tom was a wonderful man.

Uncle Louis had two sons. One was born defective and Louis, my cousin grew up to also pass the Bar. But he did not dare to be a trial attorney. He tried but he would have stomach trouble. He made out alright. He got a job at a bank and moved up the ladder.

Uncle Vincent had two boys and a girl. The oldest boy named Vincent. We called him Junior. Then Rudolph and Gloria.

At some point, Aunt Amelia got sick and the two younger children needed to be cared for. None of the aunts wanted to care for two more [ed: remember this was during The Great Depression and many families were having trouble making ends meet], but my mother took them in. And she had trouble with Rudy. He wet his bed at night alseep.

Lucia's children were named Carmen, Nedio, Phyllis, Bette, Mary, and one other. It's been so long that names escape me at times.

We were a pretty close family with all the aunts and uncles close by. They visited often and so did we.

One year, Uncle Joe took us to Revere Beach for a picnic.

Uncle Fred's wife died and he had his children to bring up. I made the rounds as I grew older.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

I would get in trouble. Once I was on the piazza [ed: porch] just crawling on the floor and as I moved on, I suddenly saw that I had a piece of wood from a grape box and a nail sticking out through the palm of my hand. It didn't hurt. I showed my mother who had a fit. [ed: My poor grandmother]. I pulled it out and she put iodine on and bandaged it. All the while castigating.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

The gentleman without a hat is my mother's father. The tall gentleman
in the back is Dad's father.

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

Every weekend on Saturday afternoon and Sunday afternoon, Papa would have his friends come and they would play cards, drink wine. He made wine every year up to The Depression. Mother made the sandwiches with Italian bread and cold cuts.

Throwback Thursday - The Notebooks

To clear up some confusion, the Notebook passages posted on Throwback Thursday were written by my father and found by me after he passsed away. They were his attempt to tell the family history. He was in his late 80s or early 90s when he wrote them. Today's chapter:

17. March 1979 - Dad's 60th birthday. Dad is blowing out candles on
the Italian rum cake from Mike's Pastry with an assist from his grandson.
Also in the photo, left to right: Ma, her sister, Uncle J, husband of Dad's
sister, E, niece R, sister in law L married to Dad's baby brother, R. The
rum cake was always a present from Ma's sister.

My birthdays were celebrated. My mother's uncle, Zio [ed: Italian for uncle] Francisco, he was a number one pastry chef. And although he had to be brought and picked up by a relation as he was blind, he could still bake. My mother would take out everything he needed to bake. The board, the Italian rolling pin. This was a broomstick that was sanded down by hand until all the paint had been removed. And as it was used, it began to take on a nice, yellow color from the eggs that were used to make pasta, cakes, etc. Every Italian home had one of these.

My mother would place all of the ingredients that were needed. Then take his hands and put them on the flour, the eggs, salt, sugar, etc. He would then go to work.

When he had mixed everything and rolled it flat or took bits off to make the Italian cookies, they would be ready for the oven. The same for the cakes. He would also mix the various creams, and have my mother put them in a pan for heating and would ask her to test for consistency.

He would make the Italian layered cake [ed: Italian rum cake], cannoli, paragini, everything that you could buy at Mike's in Boston [ed: Mike's Pastry 300 Hanover St. in Boston's North End]

When he was through, whoever brought him to our house would come to pick him up and take him home. My mother's uncle was my grandfather's brother. The uncle and his wife loved my mother. We visited often. Even their children would visit.

During all of this baking day, I would sort of raise some problem. I would get in the way. One birthday, I sat on the window sill as I tried doing see-saw. My mother would tell me to stop or you'll fall on the piazza [ed: porch or deck on back of a triple decker. Ran the length of the building. Each floor had its own piazza. ] I did and split my head. My poor mother took a conniption.

I was taken to the first aid station. [ed: Boston City Hospital Relief Station, Haymarket Square] They wanted to put stitches in. She would not allow it. She didn't like to have me sewn up.

That night, after dinner, I would hear some talk in the hallway and then music. Mother opened the door and the little orchestra marched in. And friends, not mine. This was done in the evening. I was treated like a prince with my head bandaged that year.

My birthdays went on like this until The Depression. It was my father's way, I guess, to celebrate.