[Excerpted for use by DHS member, Bob Corbett]
[Excerpted from Chap.4..."Group activities for children in the '50s...]
In the early years, while Mother regularly attended [United Church of Christ] church services on Sundays, she deposited me at Sunday School. Mostly we played together and listened to bible stories. Later, I progressed through intermediate bible classes, up to confirmation classes for ages 12-14. Confirmation lessons were held every Saturday at church for our class of 12 boys and girls. They were a wholesome, friendly group who came from various sections of West St. Louis. Unfortunately, none were from my neighborhood and we were thus only together on those Saturdays and Sundays, when attending church as a group. The one-year association with my class was quite rewarding. Aside from learning about the bible, I made pleasant friendships.
The girls and their mothers were helpful during my mother's illness. Several were even present at her funeral in 1963, long after our friendships had tapered off following confirmation three years earlier. It was surprising to see them again since I had been attending another church with my neighbors. The reunion, however, confirmed that friendships developed in youth can endure, although this requires active participation of both parties to keep a relationship alive. After my departure overseas 30 years ago, our contacts ceased altogether, but the memories continue to give comfort.*
Another group function popular in the '50s was the local school dance held on Friday night. At our elementary school [John J. Roe School], the weekly event was called Teen Town. At ages 13-16, as rather awkward adolescents, we somehow gathered courage and showed up at the dances. Being the tallest girl and least shapely--except for my kneecaps--I generally danced with my girlfriends or served as a wallflower, while watching the mixed couples dance. Even now, I cannot recall feeling any self-pity for not being pretty or otherwise popular with boys, since I considered most of the boys in my class to be dumb or worse. There were only a few with whom I would consider dancing, even if they were to have asked me. Besides, those few were generally occupied with the attractive girls, like my girlfriend Peggy, who was also quite popular since she frequently invited all her friends to her house parties.
Peggy always invited me since we were neighborhood friends, but even then I usually played the wallflower, sitting with the girls, eating potato chips, drinking Coke and watching the others dance. Of course, we all had to get into the act when it was time for the games, which Peggy's parents supervised so they would not get out of hand. Spin the bottle was a favorite then. At one of those parties, Peggy introduced Randy as her new boyfriend, who I believe attended a private school. He was not in our class and appeared to be new in the neighborhood. Randy was a really cute fellow--tall, blonde with a crew cut, the popular style in those times. And it was evident that he was a good jitterbug dancer. When he and Peggy danced, all the girls swooned, if that's what we called it then? They made a perfect couple, everyone said, and soon Peggy announced that she and Randy were going steady--another term of that era.
Time passed, as well as many Teen Town experiences, at which we all were generally present. Then, one Friday night--I remember distinctly it was Friday, the 13th!--I strolled in with my girlfriend Bonnie, who usually hugged the walls with me, when we were not dancing together. The boys never knew what they were missing! That evening Randy arrived at the dance alone for some unknown reason. Perhaps, he and Peggy had broken up, or she may have been ill or on vacation. Regardless, he came alone and danced with several other girls from my class. Bonnie and I continued to jitterbug the night away. Eventually, the jitterbug contest was announced, an event conducted at each dance. Bonnie and I remained seated--only mixed couples could participate in the contests. We thus sat prepared to watch the contestants, as we had done every Friday night.
Excerpts -- page 2
To my surprise, however, Randy approached and asked me to be his partner. What delight--not only to have been asked, but precisely by the one fellow I had always hoped would ask me. Sorry, Peggy, I must have thought, but tonight is my night! After all, it is only a dance. Well, we won that contest, and a box of candy was my prize. We danced a few more times, and then Randy walked me home and kissed me goodnight. I was in seventh heaven, another popular expression of the '50s. My glow did not last long. Peggy returned to his side--likely she had just returned from vacation... Nevertheless, that experience at Teen Town was certainly a highlight of that year, and it continues to lend pleasure in memories, even today...especially when Friday the 13th rolls around.
Today's youth have their discos--darkened dance-halls, laser light shows, heavy-metal and techno sounds. In our times, dances were brightly lighted, sponsored by the school, chaperoned by teachers and parents and attended by wholesome youth--no pot, no LSD, no designer drugs and the like. Although occasionally someone would be caught outside smoking cigarettes or nipping on booze. Our era did not produce a generation of angels, yet I would hate to have missed those wonderful experiences while growing up together in the '50s.
[Excerpted from Chap.4... "Getting about in the '50s...]
In urban areas, the bus was the favored transportation of the '50s, or streetcars in cities which continued to maintain them. St. Louis still had a scant streetcar network in South St. Louis and some parts of the inner city. When Grandma and I occasionally shopped on Cherokee Street, we had to transfer from a bus to a streetcar, or trolley as it was called by some. In the early 1900s, St. Louis operated an urban trolley system throughout the city, which year after year due to suburban development had been replaced by busses and automobiles.
Today in Europe, some of the most ecologically and economically progressive cities are those which still operate modern subway and streetcar networks. Electrically driven, such transport systems are efficient and produce no polutants. American cities that encouraged the extinction of trolley traffic, had made costly oversights as many of today's city planners are beginning to realize. St. Louis surely counts among them...
In the '50s, we frequently hopped the bus--Mother and I going downtown shopping on Dollar Days [our bus-stop was a block down from Central Ave. on McCausland], or Grandma and I, to Soulard Market. Those were the days when Grandma bought a live goose, and we transported it home via bus...what else? At least, we had a direct connection and did not have to change busses, or transfer, as it was then called. In those days, one stepped up to the driver, told him the destination, and he responded with the price. You tossed your change--carfare--into the square, glassed-in change-box. If you didn't have correct change and had to break a bill, that was no problem for the driver. They were accommodating and courteous. Some, we even got to know by name.
If a change of bus was required, the driver issued a transfer, which would be punched on receipt by the next driver. Tokens (small, round imprinted disks with a hole in the middle) were also issued for some, now unknown, reason. And during the course of the trip, the driver called out the names of each stop! A bus driver, then, did not just drive--he administered his change, bills, transfers and tokens, and kept his passengers informed of the stops along the route! Multi-talents indeed! In those times, a driver didn't get mugged--or murdered--for the contents of his change-box. The times were different. Behavior was different. Although, in all honesty, violence was obviously festering, since later I recall that the change-boxes were eventually sealed and correct change was then required.
Now that I think about it, half of my adolescent life seemed to have been conducted in transit on busses. Four years of high-school with two daily transfers... Then, my first year of employment required four transfers a day, plus bus rides to nightschool three nights a week--all of which quickly convinced me to buy my first car. Although the convenience of an automobile was paramount, initially I missed the hustle and bustle of life on a bus!
Excerpts -- page 3
[Excerpted from Chap.4... "Stores of the '50s]
Another memorable store from my early childhood had many names in those days: the Five and Dime, the Dime Store, or the official names like, the original and most famous, F. W. Woolworth's 5 & 10 Cent Store, or S. S. Kresge, J. J. Newberry, W. T. Grant and more. The dime store became a legend in America and certainly found its place in U. S. retail business.
Mother and Grandma both frequented the dime stores. Woolworth's were located throughout St. Louis. Sometimes, Mother and I would stop at the downtown store for a hotdog and cherry coke during our shopping excursions. Grandma bought me many a toy at the Woolworth's on South Grand Avenue. When we lived in West St. Louis, we shopped at the stores on [Manchester Road], which served a prosperous market that managed to keep two dime stores thriving: Woolworth's and J. J. Newberry. Those were the days when dime stores and drug stores were popular outlets for economy-priced goods not offered at specialty better shops and department stores. And those were the days before Walmart!
Woolworth's and a few others remain on the scene today, albeit the number of stores have been reduced drastically. We still have a Woolworth's in the nearby German city of Pforzheim. It looks like the one I frequented with Mother in downtown St. Louis, complete with the same wooden floors. What memories it fosters!*
A favorite of my step-father's was the Drug Store. A heavy consumer of mult-vitamins, he was always searching the drug-store shelves for the best price for the highest potency. Walgreen's Drug on [Manchester Road] also had a soda fountain. While my step-father waited for prescriptions to be filled or combed through the vitamin department, I sat at the counter sipping on cherry coke. My girlfriends and I used Walgreen's as a favorite meeting point before attending the local movie matinee. Some of the other drug stores then existent, but not in our neighborhood, were Katz Drug and Gaissen's Drug. Their products comprised prescription and non-prescription drugs, vitamins, health foods and sundry household items. Many, like Walgreen's, had soda fountains.
In earlier times, soda fountains and milk-bars existed alone and somehow managed to stay afloat without selling other products. Ice cream, soda and jukebox music were big business then. One of the few negatives that evolved in the '50s was, in fact, the disappearance of the American soda-fountain culture. A few seedy versions remained, but mostly the soda fountain and lunch counter merged and became integrated into department stores and dime stores.
The early soda fountains, dating back to 1876, started out as a side product of the apothecary--serving sparkling water in various flavors. An elaborate Centennial soda fountain was a major hit at the 1876 Philadelphia Exposition. Already in the early '50s, the soda-fountain trade began to deteriorate, but at least typical soda-fountain counters were still around during my youth. I thus enjoyed many a cherry coke perched atop a swiveling, red plastic-covered, chrome stool.
[Excerpted from Chap.4... "Entertainment in the '50s]
Only once in my childhood was I taken to a circus, a St. Louis performance of the Barnum & Bailey travelling review which was staged at the [Arena]. I do not remember much about the circus, but my numerous visits to the Arena are quite memorable. The St. Louis Arena, a spacious covered stadium, has since been torn away. Here is where all the large events were held in St. Louis. Later, in fact, I attended a rousing Chuck Berry performance at the Arena and, later still, a St. Louis Blues hockey game. During my childhood, the Arena was THE entertainment center of St. Louis. Although it is now gone, the memories still live in the minds of millions who sat high in its dome watching the various performances.
Excerpts -- page 4
The following announcement appeared in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch newspaper:
September 23, 1929--Three thousand people gathered for the building's dedication, said to be a lavish chicken dinner and the largest indoor banquet ever held in St. Louis. The lamella roof, the Arena's most unusual feature, rises the equivalent of 13 stories above the floor and is the largest existing example of this form of architecture. It takes the name lamella from the Latin word for platelet. Once described by a Post-Dispatch critic as "a vast reticulum of identical interlocking little rafters defining hundreds of lozenge-shaped spaces, each one a bit offset from its neighbor, marching zigzag across the vault."
Bette Midler was its last major attraction in November 1993. The Arena was demolished in September 1994, but 65 years of events which took place under its roof certainly will not be forgotten.*
Located directly adjacent to the Arena, the [St. Louis Highlands amusement park] was the scene of many a school picnic. For me, the culmination of the school season celebrated at the Highlands was sheer delight. Unfortunately, the Highlands has also been torn away after years of deterioration.
Following the annual school parade through neighboring streets, the students and faculty boarded busses which deposited us at the entry to the amusement park. We again assembled in formation and, accompanied by the school band, marched proudly through the park grounds to the area which had been assigned to our school. At a specified meeting point, the parade dissolved into small groups of scattering children and parents who had been awaiting the arrival of their little darlings.
Aboard the busses, we had been issued entry passes and tickets for free rides and beverages. These I deposited with Mother, who administered them throughout the day. She had accompanied my friend Bonnie's parents, and we all sat together at a covered picnic table. They had brought along a picnic basket filled with homemade fixings to supplement the beverages. Mother also had a bag with food which she dispersed on the table along with theirs. Having procured our drinks at the sales stands, around noon we all sat around the huge picnic table and ate lunch. For us kids, the excitement that had been building throughout the day threatened to stifle our appetites. We were anxious to be turned loose on the rides. But our mothers insisted we first have lunch before leaving the table. Finally, the real fun was about to begin. The remaining food was packed away and returned to the car, except for cakes and cookies which were saved for later. One of Bonnie's family, her dad I believe, remained at the table to hold our place, to which we constantly returned for reporting our experiences on the rides and at the game booths.
Initially, Mother and I walked around the grounds together, surveying the various amusements and watching other kids riding. Together, we then rode the carrousel and other harmless rides like the Ferris wheel, that only generated a mild twinge in my tummy as we sailed over the top and looked down upon the action below. Compared to the more daring rides, Ferris wheels may not cause lumps in one's throat or chills on one's neck, but they certainly offer a wonderful view from the top, and thus they continue to entertain people around the world.
Generally, I needed plenty of encouragement to gather the courage necessary to ride the bobsled or the roller coaster--those daring rides which Mother flatly refused. After the first time on the bobsled, however, I usually felt sufficiently confident to barrel through it again. It was similar to the Olympic-style bobsleding discipline...without ice! The thrill was enormous, although the clickety-clackety-bumpety sound of cars maneuvering through the wooden circular tunnels was unnerving.
To ride the roller coaster, I needed more than just encouragement for, even, getting aboard the contraption! In fact, several school picnics came and went before I ever would ride it! Only the horrible feelings that memories still conjure up lead me to believe that I finally did ride the thing. I do recall screaming all the way down the loop! And never in my life did I hold onto anything tighter than that coaster's security bar!
Excerpts -- page 5
By late afternoon, with our free tickets spent, energy drained and excitement now waning, everyone packed up his things and piled into Bonnie's family car for the return trip home. Tired and dirty, we dragged into the house. What a wonderful experience! Next year, there would be another school picnic. Then, we could hardly wait... Now, only memories remain, but such wonderful ones.
[Excerpted from Chap.4... "Food in the '50s...]
With the few pennies I could gather during the week, I would drop into the local candy store on the corner across from [John J. Roe] school. Especially tempting my sweet tooth were the twisted red and black Schweizer Licorice strands, which then cost a penny a piece, or Dubble Bubble chewing gun with a comic strip on waxed paper folded inside. I blew bubbles and chewed the stuff until my jaws ached! Mother grew disgusted with the bubble-gum craze and, to discourage my chewing it, bought a brand of gum called Dentine, supposedly recommended by dentists. I doubt that it was, but in any case we changed over to Dentine and that ended my bubble-blowing adventures.
Back to my experiences at the candy store. On entering that old shop, a bell above the creaking door jingle-jangled to announce the arrival of another youngster, pennies in hand, wishing to buy a contributory cause of his future toothaches. Little did we know how harmful a penny's worth of sweets, devoured regularly, could be.
The combined smell of sweets and stale air greeted one upon entry. Inside the dingy store, equipped with dirty-wooden floors and glass-encased counters, an elderly couple served the little customers, whose noses pressed against the glass counters and large eyes gazed upon the colorful array of goodies. The old gentleman first asked to see the money before placing the candies into our grimy, sticky little hands. In those days, having more than a nickle or dime in our pockets was a rare occasion. A few pennies would also do the trick!
But you will note that even then business was already devious in its promotional strategy, although locating a candy store across from a school was relatively harmless, compared to today's stationing of drug pushers outside the school-yard.
[Excerpted from Chap.6... "Neighborly ways...building tight bonds]
In June 1956, Mother, my step-father and I moved into our small, four-room house [1508 Central Ave., Zip 63139], which would be my home for the next ten years, until I moved to my own little apartment at age 20 and, then, overseas a year later. Those ten years on that quiet Cul de Sac were made especially enjoyable because of the many wonderful relationships with our neighbors.
Mother was an endearing, friendly person, who soon had friends and acquaintances up and down the street. She regularly chatted with the two elderly women from the house left of ours. They were German-Americans, kept a spotless household and frequently entertained visits from Mrs. Eckert's son and family. Anna was Mrs. Eckert's sister, a quiet spinster, but together they managed to get on nicely. They were glad that my step-father was so practical around the house. He helped them in emergencies.
In the house to our right, a younger couple lived with their two children. John was a local Fire Chief. His wife, Wanda, an attractive woman, worked part-time as a doctor's receptionist. Karen was their five-year-old daughter and Little John, an infant. Later, I would babysit them--material for yet another narrative. Both were beautiful children with pretty faces and large blue eyes. Karen was the perfect angel. Johnny, diametrically the opposite. He was the proverbial brat, but his sheer appearance melted everyone's heart.
Then, there were the Rogers and Venables up the block, along with the Sanders and Kuhns. Across the street, the Rosenbergs, with daughter Martha. Next to them, the Tates--our favorites, whom I shall discuss later. Further down--the Campbells, Carters, Clems and many more whose names have since slipped my memory. Even along the parallel streets, we learned to know the neighbors--Blankes, Vespys, Lincolns, etc.--whom we met at the local grocer or on the way to school. Several of their children became my playmates and schoolmates during those years.
Excerpts -- page 6
Yes, Mother quickly learned to know everyone and earned the esteem of several women on the block. She even developed a reputation for being the first one to have her laundry hanging on the wash-lines every Monday morning. This was because my step-father left for work so early. She thus tackled her housework after his departure and could then settle down to the tasks that really gave her pleasure.
Adele, our favorite neighbor directly across the street, confessed to me long after Mother had died how much she had admired Mother's ambition: " I was envious of your mother because she only needed to call once, and you would immediately run home. I could call Gary three times or more, and he still wouldn't come home." Upon which, I explained to Adele just what I could expect had I not returned home promptly. Mother was friendly, alright, but with me she was strict. She knew how to handle a headstrong daughter, and in retrospect her techniques were entirely correct. At the time they seemed harsh, but now I am thankful she instilled the discipline and control that I obviously lacked. These qualities served me well in later years, although my headstrong ways still frequently emerge.
Adele and her family eventually became a second family for me during those ten years. They were endearing, sincere and caring...and always positive, in spite of the difficulties experienced with their retarded son, Jeffery. When we first met in 1956, Adele and her husband, Harold, had only the two boys--Gary, the oldest, and Jeffery. Some years later, their third son, Brian, was born. By then, I was perhaps 14 or 15 and had taken on babysitting to earn some extra money. Since I had played with Gary and could effectively handle Jeffery, I was entrusted with watching the boys when Adele and Harold joined their friends for an evening out. After tucking in Jeffery for the night, Gary, Brian and I watched television until the Mr. Softie ice cream truck arrived around ten o'clock. By the time Harold and Adele had returned, Gary and Brian would be in bed, and I was generally dozing before the TV--unless Gary and I had watched the late-night movie. In that case, we both might be dozing before the TV!
I really felt like one of the family--that is how I was treated. Almost daily, I trotted over to their house for a chat in the kitchen. There were always lots of jokes, laughter and gaiety in that family--things that were missing at my house, especially during Mother's illness and after she had died. The wonderful family atmosphere experienced with them was just the therapy I so desparately needed, particularly in those times. Mother's sudden departure left my step-father devastated. I took over the household and cooking, but the tender age of 16 left me rather ill-equipped to provide psychological comfort. His dispression affected me nonetheless. My frequent association with the neighbor families, therefore, helped tremendously to raise my spirits.
Frequently, they invited me to join them for picnics, for church service on Sundays and once for a day of fishing on the Meramac River. One early evening, Harold and Gary drove me to the neighborhood shops so I could buy a pair of shoes. They even helped to select them!
After I had departed for overseas, they were still an immense comfort to me. They corresponded regularly with news from the block, kept tabs on my aging step-father and frequently offered him assitance, even though he was not the most gracious recipient, nor the cheeriest individual. His negative attitude made it especially difficult for these, normally upbeat, neighbors. They helped him nonetheless, and I know they did it for me--to help alleviate some of my worries.
These were the kind of neighbors I grew up with in the '50s and '60s--wonderfully caring people, equally concerned about the welfare of others and actively doing things to help. Adele also volunteered at church and at school, and Harold, with the Boy Scouts and other activities in which their sons were involved. They were always doing for others...
They are now retired, and the boys are now grown--although Jeffery passed away some years ago. Gary is married with children of his own, and Brian, I am told, is still searching. A few years ago, we saw Gary and his family during their European trip. We enjoyed that delightful, although brief, reunion and spent most of it relishing the memories of those days on the block.*
Excerpts -- page 7
In today's hectic, mobile society, one is hard pressed to see one's neighbors, much less really get to know them, as we had the privilege of doing back then. Although I have been abroad for 30 years, those bonds of friendship are still secure. We are all getting older. We don't communicate as much. Our diverse family activities and obligations occupy our time, but whenever we see or hear from them--or even think about them--those familiar feelings of warm affection return. They return to again prove the importance of neighborly ways, even in today's modern society.
[Excerpted from Chap.7... "Schooling the masses...]
...Teachers did not have to battle students, nor worry they would be attacked in the school-yards. There were no weapons in classrooms, foul-mouthing, intimidation of other students, nor brawls. Teachers were in control, and students knew their place. Respect still reigned among adults and children...and between them! Besides, the difficult cases were dealt with promptly. Threats of the principal's office or suspension, then, still meant something. Student smoking on the premises was strictly controlled and rarely a problem. And we're talking cigarettes, not marijuana or worse. Student drinking and drug abuse was not an issue, especially in elementary school.
Human behavior in high-school was somewhat more liberal. Some of the rougher cliques provoked other students with flagrant behavior, yet such youth were in the minority and were looked upon by the majority with contempt. We frowned upon loose girls who wore excessive makeup and promiscuous clothing, who smoked in dark corners and hung out with rough guys. Jackie, an attractive girl in our high-school class revelled in telling us that she regularly shoplifted. Our group was shocked upon hearing her triumphant confession. Disclosure that a classmate was pregnant soon led to ostracism. Offenders swiftly became uncomfortable outcasts.
...Getting back to the '50s, it seems that more emphasis was placed on teaching the value of discipline and respectful behavior...and, of course, the basics--the 3 Rs, plus introduction to science, sociology, history and geography. Some of us were lucky to have had inspirational teachers. Two of my biology teachers were not only natural motivators, but also idealists. Their enthusiasm literally flowed over into us. Perhaps I was overly receptive to their teaching styles. Yet, even today, I still appreciate the devotion they imparted, which raised my interest and influenced my learning.
Perhaps the fact that life was simpler, then, played a role in my fond recollections of school days. Then, we learned to read from books, not from screens. We developed a relationship with our books, that for me has lasted a lifetime. True, I need and effectively utilize my PC, but I would not choose to take it to bed and read it to sleep! PCs are the tools of today and certainly the future. They perform wonders indeed, but essentially to get results, one still has to read and comprehend...and not only on screen! Then, we memorized our math tables and slaved over arithmetic and algebra problems, long before the existence of pocket calculators and PCs. We practiced vocabulary and sweated through spelling bees. We glared through speed-reading sessions until our eyes blurred. We did homework! No disco...there was no disco! Perhaps, Teen Town on Friday night, as a reward for performance... But not always, either. There were rules then, and they were enforced.
We learned how to read and enjoyed it. We learned how to express ourselves in words--not lingo. We conversed together, played together and were not allowed to stupify before square tubes--TV, that is. I know PCs are different, but then there weren't any! And we learned how to think, rationalize and utilize available resources--although, granted, there were fewer. We applied our interests, capabilities and strenghts and grew painfully aware of our weaknesses. Luckily, there were so many support systems to help with our problems--people who cared, at home and at school.
We trained for real jobs which existed, not just on paper. The question, then, was what will we do? --not what jobs are available? Or worse yet, are there any jobs available? There were plenty of jobs in the '50s, also in the '60s, coupled with hope for the future. Graduates of universities and high-schools were immediately swallowed into the work-force by a hungry economy. Not like today, where so many land in the unemployment lines before ever having been employed!
Excerpts -- page 8
An economic boom stood before--not behind--us! That was the crucial plus that existed then, and the young men and women of the times cheerfully tackled the tasks ahead because they had been prepared...prepared for the future. It may appear that I actively promote a '50s-style classroom--as though it held everything that is missing today. Perhaps to an extent this is true. I shall defer assessment and just add that education in the '50s did, in fact, achieve its goals. And the proof? One vivid example: decades of economic growth and prosperity!
[End of excerpts!]
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