The Sunday Memory Drawer - 241st Street and White Plains Road

These Sunday Memory Drawers often ignite with just the slightest spark.  I happen to run across this photo on-line and I was overcome with recollections of the past.  

241st Street and White Plains Road in the Bronx.  This is how it looks today.  Not as I remembered.

But still, at the same time, very much as I remembered.

When you're a kid, your world is very small.  You don't realize it at the time, but you rarely venture outside a very defined perimeter.  My home on 15th Avenue in Mount Vernon was the center.  Unless I was dumped in a car to visit relatives in Long Island or the Bronx, I rarely ventured far from my house.  Oh, I could head east to Mount Vernon's shopping district on Fourth Avenue or the town library on Second Avenue.  

In the other direction was the Bronx and I would go as far as the train station that began the IRT #2 line.  

And that was it.  

In this photo, I see glimpses of my youth.  A dry cleaner is still there.  We used them until One Hour Martinizing had opened up a little closer to home.  There is a super market that, when I was young, was a meat store called Quick Way.  My mom's friend Rose worked the check-out and often hooked me up with whatever my mother had put on the shopping list.  Two pounds of chuck chopped, usually.

Next door was the newspaper stand.  On weekends, Dad would pick up the Daily News.   "Get tomorrow's news tonight" was the marketing gimmick.  It never had the nighttime baseball scores.  What a waste.   That was also the place we would stop on Sunday nights after our sojourns to Long Island.  Mom always had a crisis.

"I'm out of cigarettes. Get me two packs of Kents."

Yes, two packs of Kents would get her through the next day.

On the other side of the street (the part you really can't see in this photo) was an altogether other world for me.  A magazine store that had a great array of comic books.  A Firestone store that actually sold more toys than tires.  I bought my GI Joe action figure in that place.  A weird storefront that allegedly had some gypsy fortunetellers inside.  My grandmother warned me not to make eye contact or there would be nails in my throat.

And, of course, there was Barney's Bar and Grill.

This would be my family's only connection to the restaurant business as it was owned by my dad's cousin for about five years.   Tired of working for somebody else, "Uncle" Augie set out to be his own boss and looked around for an eatery he could own.   The tavern right under the elevated train station was just the ticket.

Naturally, we became steady customers.   There was the saloon in the front, equipped with a shuffleboard game.  In the back were some lime green booths and a lunch counter.  This became the only place we would use to "eat out."  

This wore thin on me after a while.   Oh, the special treatment we got was always welcomed.  Indeed, the bartenders and the waitresses all knew us by name.  It was like our own personal episode of "Alice."  I'd plop down at the counter and spin around on the chair.  Some lady with her hair in a bun would always notice.

"Hiya, honey.  You're gonna blast off into space on that thing."

I would stop spinning.   Partly because she said so.  Mostly because I had gotten dizzy.

"Whacha havin' today, hon.  Hamburger with cheese."

Yes, please.

"And a big bowl of rice pudding."

Which I will admit was damn good.

Of course, my dinner would be consumed in fifteen minutes.  Meanwhile, the adult folks, with liquor at hand, would be parked there for an hour or seven.  I'd slowly nurse a Coke and quickly develop an acute case of boredom.  

"Why don't you go next door and get a comic book?"

Already looked.

"Go to Firestone's and get a new outfit for GI Joe."

Already did.

I'd stare at the clock on the wall.  I'd take another sip of my soda.  I'd read the menu again.  I'd take another sip of my soda.  Outside, I could hear the screech of the latest subway train to pull in or out.

Another beer was poured.  I guess my family wanted to really promote business for...well...my family.

I secretly wished that my father's cousin had bought a toy store instead.  I'd have all the Colorforms I could ever want.   I'm never bored with Colorforms.

I look at the photo above and remember every moment I spent in that tavern under the trestle.  And I can't wait to go home all over again.

Dinner last night:  Perhaps the worst sausage and peppers I have ever eaten at the usually trusted Carlo's in Yonkers.  No more.