I don't know why I do this to myself. On my trip to NY last November, I was compelled on a freezing Sunday afternoon to re-visit the old haunts. Mount Vernon, New York. A place which was once a glorious place to have my childhood. Now, a town trashed by crooked politics and a direct by-product of the lax immigration laws of this nation. Raped, pillaged, and left for dead are my memories. And a major portion of my life. Join me as I tour some important benchmarks of my early life. If you remember anything at all about Mount Vernon during those years, keep tissues handy.
These days, the decay of Mount Vernon's carcass begins and ends with the assholes that inhabit City Hall. Okay, the town was always racially polarized. Blacks on the south side below the New Haven railroad tracks and Whites on the north side above the train divide. My home was sort of on the south side but we were also close to the Bronx line. Nevertheless, in those years, the city was run essentially by Italians...wink, wink, nudge, nudge. And, pretty much, there was harmony. About twenty years ago, the mob got tired of all the skimming and pretty much ceded the city to Black politicians who have destroyed the place once and for all with their Afro-centric policies. The first building that needs to be torched is the one pictured above. But, only if all employees are working at their desks at the time.
This parking garage monstrosity used to be the Loews Mount Vernon movie palace. They built a lot of parking. As if anybody goes to Mount Vernon anymore...
A short block away, we find what used to be the RKO Proctor's movie theater. The double doors used to be the spot where you walked up to the box office and the lobby for silver screen magic. Many, many hours were spent there by yours truly. Now, it's loaded with lots of accountants with faux African names.
The only evidence of the old Proctor's theater is on the next block, where the drugstore named for the movie house still remains. Although it clearly has been put out of business by some of the drug dealers lining the street.
Looking north on the beloved shopping district. Fourth Avenue. The crispness of the air that day reminded me of Christmas shopping with my mother. In those years, the only night the stores were open was Thursday night. And we would be there every week during the holiday season. My mother buying and me carrying. The stores used to be a wonderful eclectic mix of small family businesses, sprinkled in with a few chains like Woolworth's and Genung's. Now, the block is littered with...well, litter. One cheap merchandise story after another. There's not an ounce of pride to be found. 
The CCNY awning on the right marks where the old Bee Hive restaurant you used to be. After school on Fridays, my mom and I would have an early dinner (always a BLT for me) before heading off to Loews or RKO for a double feature.
What the hell kind of a store is called "People Bargain?" Besides offering shit for sale, the owners can't even use proper punctuation on their signs.
Amid all the changes on the street, I was absolutely shocked to discover that my grandmother's drugstore was still operating under the same name. They used to order her White Cloverine Salve, which, according to my grandmother, had healing powers just short of Jesus Christ himself. 
We had a family joke. When some relative died, my father would say they'd be "stretched out" down at Burr Davis, which was the popular Mount Vernon funeral home. Burr has obviously moved out himself, only to be replaced by this high caliber beauty salon. On my trip up and down the block, I counted seven different establishments dedicated to selling wigs to Black women. No wonder everybody shopping that day looked like Queen Latifah.
This is the building that used to house the County Trust Savings Bank. My grandmother had her passbook savings there and would go there once a month to make sure the interest was printed in the book. Now, it's no longer a financial institution. Praise the Lord and pass the deposit slips.
The splendid Mount Vernon Public Library. It looks amazingly the way it did. And, hopefully, those who use it regularly (like I did) can go in and read the archived files of the city newspaper, The Daily Argus. They can see pictures and stories of a town long gone. One that possessed civility and class. Both clearly missed today.
Dinner last night: Turkey burger at the Cheesecake Factory.
4 comments:
I lived through the destruction of my childhood home--the Bronx--by a floodtide of Blacks. It is a story that hundreds of neighborhoods can tell. No one wants to. You'd be labeled a racist. History is history, and it will be erased more than ever starting Tuesday.
Was the County Trust Bank on Gramatan Ave or was it on 5th st?
It is rather sad to see what happened to our town. Did you walk the streets and take those pictures?
That County Trust Bank was on First Street near the library.
Yes, I walked the streets downtown. Without a weapon, I might add.
Yes, Len, it was a great place to grow up. It's sad to see what it has become. I fled in 1987.
Post a Comment