Greenpoint - I Remember Greenpoint, Page 2 of To the Point!

My family first moved to Greenpoint in 1853. They had previously lived in the lower eastside of Manhattan at 15 Goerck street. The patriarch of the family was "Richard Barton." His nephew, George Solomon Barton likewise had made the move to Greenpoint to later become the first Vice-President of "Greenpoint Savings Bank." I have a few family papers that perhaps may be of interest to others who are searching for their family ties to Greenpoint. Among the items that may be of interest is a "Hymeneal" of my Great Grandfather's Wedding that was held at Leonard Street in 1892. It lists the names of the guests that attended the festivities. I would be very interested in hearing from anyone who sees a family name mentioned that had attended the wedding reception. I think the Hymeneal gives a person a unique glimpse of an event held in Greenpoint during the 1890s. It goes as follows:

HYMENEAL A RECORD OF CUPID'S TRIUMPHS AS GLEANED FROM RELIABLE SOURCES April 28, 1892 Barton - Morgan Mr. Charles R. Barton and Miss Hattie E. Morgan were united in the holy bonds of matrimony on Thursday evening at 634 Leonard Street, by the Rev. George E. Alrich. The ceremony took place at 9 o'clock in the presence of a large number of invited guests. The parlors were artistically decorated with choice exotics. The maid of honor was Miss Cora Bunce; Mr. John W. Stalker Was Groomsman and Miss Annie Potts was bridesmaid. There were numerous useful ornamental gifts. A fine collation was served. The young couple departed for Setauket, L.I., to spend a few days among relatives with the best wishes of their friends. Among those present were: James C. Barton and wife, Mrs. Morgan, George Ely of Ansonia, Conn., Mr. Townsend, Albert Morgan and wife, Mrs. Henry Hulse of Setauket, L.I., Mr. Potts and wife , John Potts, Miss Annie Potts, Miss Cora Campbell of Sea Cliff, L.I., Other guests included Edward Brooks and wife, Mrs. Bunce, Miss Cora Bunce, Charles Seaman, Mr. Whitehorne and wife, Lewis Walker and wife, Miss Ella Walker, Mr. A. Schaefer, Mrs.Penney, Miss Bell Penney, Miss Libbie Penney, Mrs. Aberley, Miss J.Aberley, Mrs. L. Asher of Rhinebeck, New York, John H. Wilmurt and wife , Walter Wilmurt, R.F.Simmons, David E. Stalker and wife , David Stalker, Ralph Stalker, Miss Marion Stalker, Mrs. Wall, Miss Edith Wall , Miss Margie Hollister, Mrs. Elizabeth A. Lamp, Mary A. Lamp, William H. Lamp, Mrs. Lorrey , Miss Jane Stalker, Miss Juliet R. Stalker, John W. Stalker, George Stillwaggon and wife , W. Holmes and wife. Piano, xylophone and violin solos were well rendered by Miss Juliet R. Stalker, Miss Annie Potts and Mr. J.W. Stalker. Dancing, singing and recitations were indulged in to the delight of all present. When Mr and Mrs. Barton return they will reside at 111 Meserole Avenue.

My Great Grandfather, "Charles R. Barton" was enlisted in the New York National Guardon April 24, 1891. From what I gather not long after he was married in 1892 he was called away to Fire Island. I often wondered what event caused his outfit to be activated in 1892. Perhaps a natural or manmade happening. At any rate I have included the following that may be of interest for visitors of "To The Point!" Letter addressed to Mrs. Charles R. Barton 111 Nassau Ave. Greenpoint, Brooklyn, L.I. Post marked "Brooklyn, Sept 28, 12M , 92 Recd. 8 o'clock P.M. Fire Island Sept. 27th 1892

Dear Hattie.
We are all still alive and have not been molested yet. Tomorrow at 9 o'clock AM is Guard Mount and I am detailed for it for 24 hours. 2hrs. on duty & 4 off then 2hrs on. This makes my 3d time on guard. Nothing said yet about going home. It is clear & cold here, but terribly windy. It rained for both on Sat. & Sunday nights. I am feeling like a lark & could stand this business for a long time. I like it. I have not heard definitely when we will start for home. For my part I don't care only I would like to see you pretty soon for to make sure you are not worrying over me without cause. I am well healthy & happy. All ok in every respect & fear nothing. Hoping this will find you as well as myself and please to answer this letter for I am anxious to hear some news from home. Remember me with love to all and I remain as ever yours. Charles Barton Fire Island c/o CO. A. 47th Reg., U.S.A. From the tone of the letter it sounds like something may have happened in 1892 which required the National Guard to be called out. What do you think? Perhaps there are some Greenpointers whose family member was in the same outfit as my Great Grandfather who may be able to shed some more light on the subject.

While courting my Great Grandmother my Great Grandfather, Charles R. Barton was involved in a social club in Greenpoint called the "Brunswicks." The following may of some interest to someone researching their family roots in Greenpoint since it names all of those who attended the social gathering in 1888. Perhaps someone will recognize the name of a relative that was there. Again if by chance they do recognize a great grandparent or grandparent that had attended the affair I would be very much interested in hearing from them. I believe the following appeared in the local paper of the times. The paper clipping does not give the name of the paper however I think it likely that it appeared in the Greenpoint Weekly Star or the Greenpoint Daily Star.

THE BRUNSWICKS FIRST BALL January 23, 1888 The first annual invitation ball of the Brunswick Social Club held at Eckford Hall, on Monday evening last, proved to be a success in every sense of the word. Mr. Charles R. Barton, secretary of the club and Miss Hattie Morgan led the grand march which took place a little after ten o'clock. There were seventy five couples who marched to the music of Prof. Loesch's orchestra. The floor management was under the supervision of mr. Charles R. Barton, assisted by Mr. Patrick F. Reidy and was conducted in an able manner. All those present enjoyed themselves very much, and great credit is due to the officers and members of the club, for the genial and pleasant manner in which the affair was conducted. The ball continued to the wee small hours and the Brunswick's and their guests departed well pleased with the success which attended their first undertaking. Among those present were: Charles W. Milligan, Miss Julie Brech, J. Demerest, Miss Gertrude Pepler, Charles R. Barton, Miss Hattie Morgan, Charles F. Seaman, Miss M. Miefeld, P.F. Reidy, Miss Emma Philips, of Ridgewood; Robert F. Milligan, Miss Sara Keck, Wm. Pepler, Miss Annie Brech, H.C. Jones, Miss Maggie Ferguson, from Albany, N.Y.; Samuel Block, and sister, J.W. Ousterman, Miss Hattie Milligan, W.G. Reilly, Miss Rosie Smith, of N.Y.; L. Siedenzahl, Miss Guhring, C. Harris, Miss Miller, H. Koster, Miss Bertha Siedenzahl, Mrs. C. Lent, Mrs. C. Denny, Mrs. Muller, Mrs. Harrison and daughter, Mrs. Decker, Mr. and Mrs. W.T. Seaman, Mr.and Mrs. E. Brooks, Mr. and Mrs. R. Nichols, Mr. and Mrs. O. Zerbe, Miss Lenfield, Miss Mamie and Ida Brome, of Ridgewood; Miss Koppenhoffer and sister, Miss Katie Muller, Misses Annie and Hannah Painting, Miss Hattie Milligan, Miss Block, Miss F. Walters, Miss E. Ludger, Miss M. Rocks, Miss M. Trueman, Mr. J. Armstrong, Miss F. Leppingwell, Mr. W. Heath, Miss M. Seims, Mr. E.J. Kaufman and lady, Mr. H. Hooper, Miss Annie Shannon, Mrs. F. Bowles and sister, Mr. E. Seaman and lady, Mr. F. Brooks and lady, Mr. L. Brooks and lady, Mr. E. Cook and lady, Mr.J. Duncan, Miss M. Wallenfels, Mr. E. O'Rourke, wife and sister of Long Island City; Mr. R. Bohles and Miss G. Glover, of N.Y.; Mr. T. Malone, Miss Hanlon, Mr. R. Sharp, Miss Guhring, Mr. A. Loewenthal, Miss Levy, Prof. J.W. Stalker, Mr. R.F. Simmons, W.H. Lamp, Prof. A. Morgan, Mr. E. Ford, Mr. P.Burns , Mr. G. Devere and lady, Mr. E. Webb, E.J. Kaufmann Association, Orchard Base Ball Association, J.M. Helme Association, Social Six Primrose Pleasure Club, Eureka Pleasure Club, Youngmen's Hebrew Association, Albion Club, MlJ. Murphy Association and many others

Reading the "I Remember Greenpoint" section always triggers old memories -- long forgotten Greenpoint minutiae come bobbing up to the surface, whisking me back to the days when Miss Wooley (of the pince nez and George Washington profile) was principal of P.S. 34, and Father Henry and Sister Donatella (called, of course, Sister Donald Duck) taught us catechism at St. Stan's.

We semi-heretical public school students took catechism classes twice a week, trooping en masse from P.S. 34 to the church every Wednesday after lunch and making our own way there on Saturday mornings. I used to go with my pals Kathy and Janice. Sometimes the sisters showed movies about the lives of the saints after Saturday classes. The only one I remember was about St. Germaine, a shepherdess who was ravaged by wolves while protecting her flock. What impressed me, however, wasn't the unfortunate Germaine's bravery, but rather the ferocity of the wolves -- I had just finished reading my way through most of Jack London and was totally on their side. In fact, I picked Germaine as my confirmation name after it turned out my parents -- and the Catholic Church -- wouldn't let me use White Fang.

Anyone who went to P.S. 34 when I did (circa 1953 to 1957) must remember the teaching staff's blind devotion to oak tag -- heavy off-white cardboard required for every school project from book covers to dioramas (diorama-making was a major curriculum element at P.S. 34). You went to Dave's Variety on Nassau Avenue to get oak tag. Dave's was a miraculous place - in two dark, narrow aisles you could buy anything -- sleds, mousetraps, Tangee lipstick, washboards, kerosene lamps, LuAnn Simms dolls (she of Arthur Godfrey Show fame), mops, pajamas, pots and pans or plastic flowers...and if what you were looking for wasn't in sight, Dave would run down to the basement to get it

In fact, the entire stretch of Nassau Avenue between Oakland Street and Manhattan Avenue was rather amazing -- a self-contained little universe that supplied us with all of life's necessities: kielbasa and kishka from the Polish butcher shop, hamburger (but not off the plate) at Trunz across the street, and world's best cold cuts and hard rolls at Willie's. You could pop in for a beer at one of the saloons on every corner. My father and uncles preferred Louie's at Eckford and Nassau...we lived on Eckford Street and I guess it was handy. My mother and aunts, of course, would never set foot in a saloon and muttered darkly about women who did! There was Nappy's dry cleaner where my uncles used to go to bet on the horses. The drug store on the corner of Leonard Street was C-o-o--o-l Inside, according the sign -- air conditioning was a rare luxury in those days.

We also had Fiore's fish store (fish 'n chips for my mom, my sister and me, but fried eel for my dad -- he wasn't afraid of anything). There was Van's candy store (for egg creams, Dixie Cups and comics), the key store (above which lived my friend Kathy and her family), and a hobby shop with miniature trains in the window. The hobby shop was remarkably well supplied -- during one science fair, my project was copper-plating. You need three things for this: a big battery, copper wire and copper sulphate -- the hobby shop had them all. Today I live in Los Angeles, and if the future of civilization depended on me finding copper sulphate someplace, we'd all be doomed.

If you couldn't find it on Nassau Avenue, well then, all you had to do was walk to Manhattan Avenue -- the BIG shopping street, with Bohack's and the A&P, and a fancy dress shop with double windows where my mom bought me my first prom dress. There was the cheese store that sold fresh farmer's cheese, an essential ingredient for pierogis, and gave away cheese boxes (the second essential ingredient in the manufacture of dioramas). National Shoes and Miles Shoes were the place for P.F. Flyers (they fluoroscoped kids' feet -- ensuring a perfect fit for us and long-term health problems for the salesmen).

The Greenpoint Savings Bank was marbled within an inch of its life — I could never resist sliding across the lobby despite stern looks from the security guard. That was a bank! It smelled like money, cool and intimidating. The tellers cages were gold-painted (or do I just remember them that way), and they reminded me of the altar at St. Stans (the fancy one upstairs, not the basement one where they said mass in English). I thought the tellers were the luckiest people in the world, going to that mysterious, chilly place every day. Today my bank is reduced to a single plastic countertop inside the local Ralph's supermarket. It smells of bananas and salami, not money. Manhattan Avenue's other good-smelling place (aside from the White Eagle Bakery) was Bomelsteins Jewelery and Optometry, with it's huge clock outside the front door. I loved the smell of silver polish and would poke my head inside to take big whiff whenever we passed...I wonder if Mr. Bomelstein noticed and what he made of the odd little kid who liked to sniff his shop. Good smells were a little hard to come by in Greenpoint -- mostly we were redolent of Newtown Creek and Van Iderstyne's.

I haven't seen Greenpoint in almost 30 years, and it's wonderful to down Nassau Avenue again, with a mom who's young enough to race me to the corner and where Kathy and Janice and I are 10 years old forever. I hope Greenpoint hasn't changed too much...hasn't lost that quirkiness that made it so unforgettable. And I hope the teachers at P.S. 34 are still in the diorama-making business.

What a fine walk down memory lane! I, too, am a native Greenpoint boy, with family still living on Java Street between Manhattan Avenue and Oakland Street (never got used to calling it after Pete McGuiness, I guess). We lived right next door to the St. Alphonsus convent ("Hey, Sistah. coudja trow the ball, back?" "What?" "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry - coudja pleeeeez throw it back?"). As was true of many 'Point People, my family fled to the suburbs of Long Island as soon as we could "escape" the city, but I did attend kindergarten at PS34 where my Aunt Marge (Margaret Savage) was the secretary to the principal. Also like most of the new suburbanites, we spent nearly every weekend back in Greenpoint with the family. Both of my parents are native Greenpoint people. My father (Bill) grew up on Noble Street and my mom (Helen Savage) was raised on India Street across from Engine 215. My father spent 25 years in the NYFD. I still remember my graduation from being a baby to "young manhood." It came when my grandmother (Helen Pillsworth Savage), whose house we always stayed at during our visits, would send me (BY MYSELF) to Arrigo's Fish market on a Friday evening to get "six portions of fish, four orders of shrimp and fifty cents of potatoes." I would sing the order to myself all the way there, every Friday. On the way back, I was allowed to cross Manhattan Avenue ("Mister, cross me?") to buy five cents worth of candy at a little store I knew only as "Pon's." Oh, the decisions! It was much later that I discovered that the name I used was just Polish for "Mister." I also remember a greengrocers on Manhattan Avenue (maybe between Java and Kent?) where I would be allowed to go for fruits as a treat. I still have a vivid memory of a big green awning and a myriad of fruit that would fill me with awe on every visit. I also read your notes on nicknames. There was one kid we played stickball or punchball with who I never knew as anything but "Eighty-Eight" from the jersey he wore everywhere. I was "Posture," (pronounced as pahs-chuh" not because I stood erect, but because Eighty-Eight decided I was "Posture-Petie." The essay on "The Stoop" brought back a flood of memories also. The writer is so correct. The Java Street house did not have a proper stoop, because it had a little front yard, but we hung out at my Aunt Marge's stoop down the block, where knowledge, experience and tall tales were definitely passed from generation to generation. One last note - after years of moving about, my family has finally settled in a Polish neighborhood once again. We now live in Riverhead, NY - "Polish Town, USA"!

I miss the GREENPOINT of my youth. A place of absolute logic, absolute civility. Everyone knew the Bad Eggs everyone knew the way to LIVE in harmony. The Fridays were all aroma's of Fish Joint's, closed 6 day's a week then Friday BANG the smell of fish/french fry's/hot grease ,WONDERFUL !! Thick thick french fries I can taste them . But NO MEAT ALL DAY NONE AT ALL If you were seen with a HOT DOG It was REPORTED by the time you walked back from "THE AVENUE" Your Mother knew & who was with you plus what you had ON the hot dog. So much is gone so much is needed Today. I hope any old Friends Give me a holler Ed Mills APOLLO ST HAUSMAN ST VAN DAM ST

Here’s my trip down Memory Lane - Greenpoint (that I sent to the “other site”) feel free to use it if you like (wish I had found you first). I found your site because I am currently working on my family tree and wanted to know more about the history Greenpoint. Why did my immigrant grandparents and great-grandparents pick Greenpoint as a place to settle in the United States? Of course the answer to this and many other questions could have been answered had I started my genealogy hobby thirty years ago. But no, I waited until all the knowledgeable relatives were gone. So, I had typed “Greenpoint” into Yahoo and really didn’t expect to find a thing. Surprise - there you were. I agree with Matt Wilson. Please don’t forget SS. Cyril and Methodius Church on Eagle Street nor their school on Dupont Street. I too would have been a member of the Class of 62, but my family moved to Connecticut in 1961 (the nerve - Greenpoint had everything I needed. I even had a view of the Empire State Building from my 7th grade class room). By the time I finished perusing your site, memories of Greenpoint came flooding back with the force of a tidal wave. They couldn’t be stopped. Had I only lived in Greenpoint for 12 years? I, too, remember the American (for 25 cents), the Meserole, and the RKO; I remember the big pretzels, egg creams, and Baby Anna’s pizza. When I remember Greenpoint to others, and tell them of the wonderful “time warp” in which Greenpoint existed, I often feel that I’m not believed. After all, how many people my age can remember the “ice man”, the lady upstairs did not have a refrigerator and still had ice delivered; the “rag man”, he actually came with a horse and wagon; the “cake and pie man”, he came on Saturday, rang his bell, and sold cakes and pies to the block; my favorite was the Good Humor Man with his open cab and jingle bells, and later Mr. Softee. Of course, my family also had a “milk man” who delivered milk in glass quart bottles, and a “soda man” who delivered seltzer and pop.

Yes, I guess Greenpoint did have a bar on every corner, but every couple of blocks she also had fruit stands, butcher shops, news stands, bakeries, and the neighborhood grocery store, where everybody voted for Miss Rhiengold when they went in to buy their penny candy from behind a glass case. I remember you could buy live chickens on Greenpoint Avenue (they would wring their necks and pluck them before you took them home); I remember sauerkraut never ever came in cans or jars. If your mother or Babci didn’t make it themselves, the only other way to get it, was out of a barrel at Franklin Pork. Shopping? Hey, I was just a kid, but I do remember that “National Shoe Stores ring the bell” and I think it was the Paris Shoe Store that had View Masters hanging from ribbons in the store windows - what a treat; and John’s Bargain Store “where your dollars have the cents to buy you more”. Speaking of shoes, PF Flyers and US Keds, were worn in the summer time and never ever to school. Recreation? I remember all the playgrounds that dotted Franklin Street, McCarren Park and Winthrop Park. I remember pink Spaulding balls to bounce from the stoops, potsey, Revlon dolls, and a shoe box full of plastic charms (the gold Coke-a-Cola bottle was my favorite), roller skating in the streets, and listening to Murray the K. Eating Out? Well, I came from a large family and there were no McDonald’s then. But, for special occasions I do remember a Chinese Restaurant on the corner of Manhattan Ave. and . . . was it Meserole? It was on the second floor. The booths had little electric buttons to summon the waiters and I think the table linens were starched! Social? (Other than family of course!) Well, St. Cyril’s had its annual class trip to Rye Beach (the Dragon Coaster and Magic Carpet were my favorites); the Parish Picnic was never missed; we marched every year in the Polaski Day Parade; and let’s not forget the weekly novenas. Important events (weddings, First Communions, etc.) were always immortalized by a trip to Robert’s Studio. Are they still there?

I lived in Greenpoint for only twelve years, and I feel like I can go on with this forever, but I guess I’d better stop. Thanks for the memories.

Searching back in time has been an unbelievable experience. These are some of the vivid indelible memories: Pulling a wagon made of a wooden box with wheels from an old carriage to collect old soda bottles to get 2 cent deposit so you would at least come up with a dime to enter McCarren's Pool. Or buy a Pepsi (glass bottle) a bag of Spiro potato chips (5 cents) Bottles were collected from vacant lots near factories really filthy and had to washed first before you brought them to the store or they would not give you the 2 cents deposit. This was a few hours of work for that dime. Medicine cabinets (if you even had one) consisted of rubbing alcohol, Vicks and Vaseline. If you didn't have toothpaste, salt and warm water was used to brush your teeth. If you had a toothache you used salt & hot water to swish around in your mouth. Every store on Sunday was closed except bakeries and candy stores, if you were out of milk you were out of luck. Everyone dressed up on Sunday whether you had some place to go or not. No one called if they were dropping over (very few people owned a telephone) you always had visitors on Sunday. They always had a bag with bakery goods with them and always sat down and had a bowl of chicken soup. Never on a Easter Sunday did you see a woman or little girl without an Easter bonnet. If you could not afford butter, lard was used for toast. You always fed your stray animals you brought home anything you had from the table. Never had to buy cat or dog food. They ate all the scraps from the table which left us with very little garbage to throw out at the end of the week. The chlorine in the pool had McCarren park was always a cure-all for all scratches or cuts you had (so my mother told us). We never got sick when on sweltering summer days the cops in Greenpoint opened the fire hydrants so us kids could sit in the street on the steaming tar and let the water run over us. All the garbage in the gutter passed over us too! Everyone walked for miles up and down Manhattan Ave. whether you had money or not, you still looked in stores. A knish was considered a meal after you swam all day at McCarren's pool and walked 20 long blocks home afterwards. You had a spontaneous happiness even though things were hard but it wasn't the strained happiness people seem to portray now. There was a personable feeling of belonging to something without comparison of what others had. I wouldn't trade my childhood for any other. It made me who I am and I believe Greenpoint is in my soul forever.

I was only a little over 2 years old when I moved to Oakland Street. This was 1946. I remember my mother holding my sister's and my hand when we cross over to Oakland Street (which now is McGuiness Blvd.) I always had trouble walking over the cobblestones when I was little as my shoes would somehow go to the sides and get caught in them. As we walked down Freeman Street before reaching Manhattan Avenue(it seemed like such a long block) my mother would stop and talk to almost every person. Sometimes she would speak only Polish. It took us a long time to reach the end of that block because she stopped so often to talk.Everyone knew everyone. They would tell each other their lives, their sorrows and their joys. How I could figure this out when I was so young was, I used to see them take out their hankerchiefs (men and women) when they would cry. Everyone carried one. On the corner of Manhattan Avenue and Freeman Street was Smolenski's Funeral Parlor. My mother always stopped to read the names on the two doors anytime there was a wreath on the outside.She'd peek inside and say, "There's noone in there visiting this person; we should go in and say a prayer for him or her" I remember how afraid I was every time she'd open one of those doors. I started through the years to become accustomed to stopping all the time at Smoleinski's because my mother said "someone has to prayer for this person". She eventually many years later would be viewed when she died at this same place. I was just 16 at the time. I hoped alot of people who didn't know her would stop in and say prayers for her. She loved alot of people from all walks of life and it never mattered how rich or poor they were. I think alot of people back then had less psychological problems, because they talked everything out all the time. Across from Smolinski's was a drug store(we never said pharmacy). It was Sirota's- pronounced Sha-rote-Ta's. We would get on a trolley for 5 cents. I always thought I'd fall under it because it never really stopped moving as you jumped up it's step. The seats were bare-ribbed wood and shiny. My small hand would hold onto a white marble pole and I would tilt my head to look out the window at the long pole connected to the wires above the trolley to see the sparks fly as we went down the Avenue. We usually got off near Milton Street . We always stopped in St. Anthony's church (Mom said we had to say a little prayer AGAIN) While my mother prayed and lit a candle, my sister and I would climb these very steep stairs which I think led to the choir and run around in the dark up there. Across the street was Woolworth's 5 & 10 cents store. We sat on high swivel stools at a counter and always had chow mein on a soft bun for 15 cents. And of course somewhere before Milton Street or in between Java and Kent Street, we would walk up these gigantic steps to visit a synagogue. Boy, we did a lot of climbing steps and my mom did a lot of praying. We looked in two shoe stores-National's and Miles. They were always too expensive for us so we would walk to the Salvation Army store near Norman Avenue. On this large table were shoes tied together with string. If you found a pair in your size, you were ecstatic to have new shoes for 50 cents. My sister and I insisted we wear ours home. We'd run down Manhattan Avenue towards home and if we heard a train underground we'd stand on the grate with our shiny new shoes just to feel the breeze. My mother hated when we did that with our dresses on and she would let us know it, too. She hated it even more when we would lie down on the grates to look and see if any money was dropped down there. Not until we were older did we figure out with bubble gum and string and magnets how we could seize these coins. My mom took us to the Midway movie theatre on some afternoons. It was down near Eagle Street. We were watching a Rudolph Valentino movie , he had on an Arabic covering on his head and he was riding through the desert and no one was talking. It was a silent film, and what good was it we were too young to read what was going on. My mother cried through most of the movie. We also went to the American movie theatre. It also showed the first movie I can remember seeing (Cecil B. DeMills) King of Kings. She really cried through this one---now I do. On the corner of Green Street we would buy soup greens for 10 cents at the fruit and vegetable stand. Next door was our butcher ( run by two brothers) one's name was John, and when we couldn't pay the full amount they would say "Don't worry, you can pay me next time" He always gave us soup bones for free. Very kind people who ran those stores. Our tuition for SS. Cyril & Methodious School on Dupont Street was 25 cents per week, which all 6 of us kids could never pay. On a day off from school we would never want to run into one of our nuns on the avenue---we were finished if there were a trace of any kind of make-up on us. Most of the kids in my class were poor. The ones that were considered well-off were the ones whose parent's owned a store of some kind. I loved living across from a grocery store. We could have a running balance. I loved watching the dark slate pencil add up our items on a brown paper bag. Every morning, we ate a bagel before we went to school. Down Oakland Street were all factories. I loved playing school, sitting on a piece of cardboard writing with chalk on all the closed factory doors (which we could never erase). We played for hours, hanging up curtains, blankets all with string to play house, getting out dolls, their clothes and whatever else we could sneak out of the house to, use as dishes. Life seemed so pure to me and simple growing up this way. The men who opened the factories the next day were not happy about all our chalk marks. On Eagle Street a man owned a bicycle shop where he repaired and rented bikes to ride for 25 cents an hour. You could pick any bike you wanted. The one I wanted was always rented out, so I would wait for it to be returned. All black, but very fast. That one hour of racing up and down Oakland Street to Provost was heaven on earth. We didn't waste one second of the hour before it was returned. We made our ramps and obstacle courses and the newly tarred street was fabulous ro ride on like being on a silk blanket. We knew one kid who actually owned a bike.- and it wasn't one of us. For 5 cents we could go to the potato chip factory near Huron Street and the man would fill the bag to the top with fresh warm potato chips. The next block we got a handful of color--coated almonds all pastel for 5 cents. Almonds were very expensive as we came to find out. I loved not knowing I was poor. I loved being happy with everything I never took for granted. I loved not worrying what everyone else had. I loved being happy to hear my mother say" Girls, it's time for supper" I never felt poor at all inside, someone made me feel extremely rich (it's a lady who always stopped to say a prayer for someone) Thank you Mom for everything I feel, believe and love today. I wouldn't trade my Greenpoint up-bringing for anyone else's. I learned a lot about life, difference in people, tolerance, empathy, sympathy and giving. I also learned how strong one is when they rely on no material thing to bring them pleasure (anything after that is a breeze) What a great site this Dmuchowski family has created. We all owe them gratitude for allowing us to share this. I as his wife write poetry and her sensitivity and kindness is to be admired. Keep up the wonderful site. . God bless you. Agnes (Jozwicki) Williams (from Oakland Street) Nick-name Chuckles pennscape@nac.net

I was thrilled to find this website! Such cool memories of my past in Greenpoint. I would like to share a story of the music of the streets in the 60's called doo-wop.

When I was just 12 years old I developed an interest in music -specifically, I loved listening to those fabulous street corner doo-wop groups sing that sweet a cappella harmony. I was in awe of those 'older guys' (probably 15 to 18 years old) and wondered how they learned to do that.

Then one day I met Frankie D - yes, the editor-and-chief of this website - who actually held the key to the wondrous mystery of harmonizing. Frankie patiently taught me how to chime up and ultimately with a third voice form a chord - and that sent shivers down my spine. From that point on I knew I was hooked. From basic chords, we graduated to singing phrases like boom boom, Cadillac, chewing gum - and Ginny's in the mood (I know some of you fellow doo-woppers are smiling thinking about that).

After mastering these basics it was time to actually form a group and start singing entire songs. We added a baritone (Hank O. from the incas) and later our bass (Ray Powierski). The group was called the Deacons and we would spend hours singing on street corners, at parties, or in the subways - anywhere there was an ear willing to listen. What wonderful memories I have of singing with my three buddies - and now, almost 40 years later, the original members of the Deacons are all in touch via e-mail through this glorious website.

After the Deacons, Ray and I went on to form a group called the Montclairs with George Henry (Baritone), Jack McNeil (2nd tenor) Mike McAuley (1st tenor) and Eddie Pictett (Lead). This group stayed active for many years (with slight variations) and enjoyed local notoriety. We would have occasional reunion concerts right up to the time I left Greenpoint in 1979. Frankie 'D' also went on to sing with a number of great groups - most notably the TOPIX - but I'll let him tell that story.

In June of 1979, my job transferred me to Dallas Texas. While this was an exciting time in my life, I thought thought for sure my doo-wop days were over. Forget about sidewalk serenades - they hardly had any sidewalks here! And forget about a subway! Well, for a number of years my only doo-wop experience was to sing along with my old tapes. Then one day I discovered another form of a cappella four part harmony called barbershop singing. I joined a local chapter from this international singing organization and would tell the guys tales of doo-wop singing in the late 50's and early 60's. I must have spun an interesting yarn because a bunch of the guys expressed an interest in joining an R&B group. So, at age 49 I began to assemble a new doo wop group!

From that 4 Ever Young was born. Now, three years later, we are a hot group in the Dallas Ft. Worth Metroplex - we keep a very busy performing calendar and there are tons of Yankees at every show. They always come up after the show to say how much they missed hearing the old doo-wop sounds! You can check out 4 Ever Young (complete with sound bites) on our web page at www.4ey.com.

So, from my early childhood days of singing chords on my front stoop (step) at Shankmans Clothing Store on the corner of Nassau Ave and Russell St, I have grown into an old kid that still loves to shoo doop in shoobie doo for appreciative ears.

I'd love to hear from other old doo woppers from the 'pernt' - we can compare old stories and reminisce about our misspent youths!

I Remember Greenpoint - Page 2