MV News #10 - Middle Village Memories

The Middle Villager
Issue 10
February 1998
PUBLISHERS - HERB TEICHER & SEENA DICTENBERG
Jackie The Common Denominator
Submitted in 1997 (oops) By Paula Lintz
This
year,
1997,
marks the 50th
anniversary of
the debut of Jackie Robinson into
the Major Leagues to play for the
Brooklyn Dodgers.
The Commissioner of Baseball has
dedicated the entire season to
honor him. When I read about this
in the L.A. Times, it brought tears
to my eyes -- big time. I felt great
joy that Jackie, (who was my
favorite player), had received this
unique honor. It has never been
bestowed upon any other baseball
player. But those tears I shed were
for personal and sentimental
reasons as well.
When I was a little girl living in
the
apartment house on 78th Street,
there was an old colored man who
some of you may remember. He
lived in the cellar of that threestory brick building and he was the
"Super" there for years. Does
anyone remember BIG BILL?
From what I can recall, Big Bill
was probably in his sixties. He had
a full head of close-cut graying
hair. I think he was tall and he
wore denim overalls every single
day. (Unfortunately, they always
seemed to be the same ones.) He
lived in a dark, dingy, smelly little
space in the cellar where he would
fry fish for his dinner every night.
You couldn't help smelling it if you
walked past his door on your way
up toward Metropolitan Avenue.
Big Bill lived there for as long as I
could remember. Sometimes he
would yell, frightening the kids in
the building like Mike Davidoff,
Bobby Friedman, Harvey Drexler,
Mark Schwartzberg and Jerry
Lippe. (He'd usually yell because
one of the boys had done
something to provoke him.) If I
had to go into the basement to put
my bike away he would appear
suddenly in the dark and scare the
hell out of me. Other times he
would try to run after us kids if we
teased him but because he had such
a bad limp he could never catch
anyone.
What really sticks out in my mind
is the weekly cleaning when he'd
attempt to wash the stairs and the
tiled hallways in that three-story
building. He would fill a metal
bucket with soapy water and start
on the top floor with his trusty
mop. He washed the halls and the
white marble stairs all the way
down to the first floor, without ever
once changing the water in the
pail. By the time he reached the
wide entry hall the water was
absolutely filthy. Those white steps
would just be streaked with dirt.
Boy, oh boy, did Bill ever smell
bad! I later learned the reason for
the odor from Jean Davidoff, who
had befriended Bill and would
bring him food and cigarettes.
According to Jean, Bill's left leg
was wounded when he served in
Mexico with the American troops.
The wound had never quite healed.
I seem to remember that he was
from somewhere down South and
had no family to speak of. I never
knew more than that. All I knew
was that Big Bill was the first
'Negro' I ever met. Pops, another
neighborhood character, was the
only other one. Pops would come
by the apartment house a lot to
spend time with Big Bill in his
cave.
Pop was always cheerful,
happy and would do his little dance
for anyone who gave him a nickel.
Little did I know that Pops was
usually loaded most of the time.
Most of the kids who lived in the
building played ball in the
backyard and Big Bill would
sometimes silently watch. One day
I got into a conversation with him
about baseball. (It was my favorite
subject, even at that age.) At I love,
ate and breathed baseball, and
especially the Brooklyn Dodgers.
It must have been around 1947
(Continued)
INSIDE THIS NEWSLETTER
Pg 1-2
JACKIE - THE COMMON DENOMINATOR (Paula Lintz)
Pg 3
NOT GOOD (Ben Haber) & Memories (Vinnie Esposito)
Pg 4
DEARIEEEEE do you remember ...... (Ben Haber)
Pg 5
The Grocery Stores of Middle Village (Herb Teicher)
Pg 6
Mail Call! && "The Gift that …. "
Pg 7
.. and The Search Goes On! ..
Pg 8-9
LOTS FOR SALE - Hurreee - Hurreee - Hurreee
Pg 10
The Middle Villager - Subscriptions
2
The Middle Villager
because I'll never forget how
excited and how proud Big Bill
was because of Jackie Robinson.
Jackie was playing his first season
for the Dodgers and he was doing
fantastic. His speed and hitting
were helping 'dem Bums' win the
pennant that year. So now little
me and Big Bill had something in
common; we had Jackie Robinson.
Bill told me stories about other
great Black ball players that he had
seen play in the Negro League, those who didn't get the
opportunity Jackie had to be in the
big leagues. He told me about
players like Hoot Gibson and
Satchel Paige (who later did get to
pitch for the St. Louis Browns.) I
got to know Big Bill as a human
being and not the bogeyman we
used to call him. I never teased
him again.
So, yes, I had tears in my eyes
when I was reminded this year of
the greatness of Jackie Robinson,
and of the remembrances of that
unforgettable character, the first
black person from my childhood.
But the biggest tear of all had to be
for the startling realization of just
how quickly fifty years have passed
and that I've become half a century
older .... even quicker than you can
say .... 'Jackie Robinson.'
NOT GOOD
Ben Haber
Momma had little or no sense of
humor, presumably the weight of
raising five children during the
Great Depression having taken its
toll. Small children however
always evoked a smile and
sometimes genuine laughter, but
when it came to adults, it was
always business. After Momma left
Middle Village having lived there
for about 50 years, and moved to
Florida, I called her once a week
usually on Friday to find out how
she was. She was generally
uncomplaining but ultimately old
age and infirmities caught up with
her and with it a ready
acknowledgement of her mortality.
When that occurred and I called,
she would pick up the phone and
I'd say; " Hello Momma." "Not
good " she replied.
"Momma you must wait until I ask
how you feel before you tell me and
I promise I will ask ." "I am going
to hang up now, call again and
remember you must wait until I ask
how you feel." I dial the number,
Momma picks up the phone and I
say: "Hello Momma." "Hello" she
says. " How are you " I ask. "I just
told you" she says and "why are
you wasting money on another call
." "Look Momma ' I say" I am just
trying to make you understand you
should wait until I ask how you
feel before you tell me." "I am
going to call one more time." The
phone rings, Momma picks it up
and I say: "Hello Momma." "Hello
" she says. "How are you feeling "
I ask. "I told you two times " she
says and why must you keep asking
". "All right " I say, " lets drop it
you win". "I win " Momma says. "
What did I win and whatever it is I
don't need it. Give it to the
grandchildren". "No Momma" I
say, "you didn't win anything, but
it is clear I really don't have to ask
how you feel ". "You don't have to
ask how your Momma feels " she
says. "No Momma, I do care, its
just that you are making things
difficult". "I am making things
difficult "she says." Just wait until
you are old and your children don't
ask how you feel ".
" All right Momma" I say, "I have
to go. Be well ". "Oy college boy"
she says, "how can I be well when
it's NOT GOOD".
Memories of .....
Middle Village
Vinnie Esposito
Scenes of Metropolitan Avenue:
Herman, The Arion's maintenance
man, up on the ladder about 10
pm, changing the marquee letters,
cigaret dangling from his lips all
the while.
Frank LaRocchia (Frank the
barber) demonstrating proper
bunting technique inside his barber
shop, using a broom as a bat.
Frank was angry because one of his
beloved Brooklyn Dodgers could
not bunt a man over the previous
night.
Scenes of P.S. 87:
Tiny Miss Gore, who was in
charge of the CRMD class,
continually shouting in that highpitched gravelly voice, but
somehow managing to keep some
semblance of order.
Standing in the school yard during
lunch period asking Principal
Hartwig "What's ny name today
Mr. Hartwig?" and feeling happy
when he said "Blue Sky" or "Red
Rose" or something as silly-funny
as that.
Scenes of My Corner:
(76th Street & 69th Road)
Pop, the black hobo, doing his little
dance on request. His only reward
was the smiles on the faces of us
kids.
Trying to sell Kool-Aid on a hot
summer day to the industrial
workers who worked in the vicinity
of the railroad tracks at the end of
76th Street. Finally making a sale,
but then becoming immediately
disappointed when the customer
spat it out because it was too warm.
We are pleased to announce that Seena Dictenberg is well on the road to recovery after a
lengthy illness. Cards and letters would be most welcome. Write to Seena at:
Seena Dictenberg
7550 Bell Boulevard, #2B
Bayside, NY 11364-3415
DEARIEEEEE
3
do
you remember ......
by Ben Haber
 When Middle Village had no
supermarkets and if you needed
groceries you went to Blaustein's,
Markman's, Pessel's or Buckstein's.
 When butter came in large
wooden tubs and the storekeeper
with a flat wooden spatula and
with one jab, withdrew the exact
weight you asked for.
 When automobiles were a
rarity and the streets free for punch
and stickball, roller skating, push
mobiling and skelly.
 When you had a splinter, a
cinder in your eye or a bad cut, you
didn't go to the doctor, but to Dave
Leblang whose drugstore was at
the corner of 68th Avenue and
78th Street who ministered to you
free of charge.
The Middle Villager
 Having a personal banker at
the
Middle
Village Credit
Union,
someone who
looked, acted and spoke just like
you, accent and all.
 Having your shoes repaired on
78th Street by Mr. Muzio and your
hair cut by either Mr. Berman, Mr.
Drexler or Mr. Alberg.
 Growing up with the warmth
and comfort of knowing your
aunts, uncles and cousins lived on
-the same block or around the
corner.
 Knowing not only your
friends, but those of your sisters
and brothers and even though you
may have been younger, they were
never mean to or dismissive of you.
 Flicking chickens at
Hoffman's or Lupschik's
butcher store to save your
mother 5 cents on the cost of the
chicken.
 When 6 cents bought a
delicious
loaf of rye
bread at
Eichel's
Bakery at the corner of Wayne and
78th Streets.
 Watching the blacksmith shoe
horses in his huge barn located at
the corner of 75th Street and
Metropolitan Avenue.
 When the Saturday matinees
at the Arion on Metropolitan
Avenue cost 10 cents and were
always sold out and when you saw
two films, two cartoons, a chapter,
a newsreel, sometimes a Passing
Parade and a chance at winning a
door prize.
 Watching the cows being
milked at the farms on Juniper
Valley Road or at
Lachter's farm at Dry
Harbor
Road
and
Woodhaven Boulevard.
 Being given a piece of ice by
Angelo or Popkin and it tasted
better than chocolate.
 Wandering
among
the
wonders of Mr. Hertzman's dusty
hardware store on 68th Avenue.
 When oranges came wrapped
in individual pieces of tissue paper
and the tissues always saved for
you know what.
The Metropolitan Avenue trolley
and especially the open slatted cars
used during warm weather.
 Digging in what is now
Juniper Valley Park for the horde
of cash rumored to have been
buried there by the notorious
gambler Arnold Rothstein.
 Meeting on Friday nights in
front of Harry and Ethel Hellman's
candy store at the corner of 68th
Avenue and 76th Street to play
ringo leaveo, hide and seek,
capture the white flag and Johnnie
on the Pony, Duvie Feldmesser
who was chubbier than
the rest of us,
always being the
pillow.
 Selling American and Italian
flags in front of St. John's
Cemetery on Memorial Day, 5
cents for the small and 10 cents for
the large, your commission 1 and 2
cents respectively. If you were an
adventurer and owned a watering
can, sneaking into the cemetery to
water the flowers for much more
than you could earn selling flags,
aware however that if caught, the
can would be smashed against the
metal spiked fence.
 Having a corned beef or
pastrami sandwich in Schreiber's
delicatessen at the corner of 75th
and Wayne Streets.
 Sleigh riding starting
at the top of the Steuben
Street hill, making a
right turn on 78th Street,
passing Wayne Street
and coming to rest at 68th Avenue.
 Bringing your clothes to Julius
the dry cleaner on 78th Street, who
never gave you a ticket, but who
when you returned, could from the
hundreds of garments -in the store
know exactly where yours were.
 Returning to PS 87 after
lunch, clutching a penny in your
hand, stopping at Dreyfuss's candy
store on Morton Avenue and
agonizing from which of the many
dishes of candy to choose from.
 Melvin
Ebenezer
Powell
known as MEP who taught at PS
87 and who could easily have
stepped out of a Dickens novel and
whose speech, dress and demeanor
was in such sharp contrast to that
of children of recent immigrants.


AND FINALLY, DO YOU
REMEMBER
ANYONE
FROM MIDDLE VILLAGE
YOU TRULY DISLIKED?
I DON'T.

4
The Middle Villager
Thanks for the Memories
(or "So
Already?!)
Where's
Issue
#10,
Dede Hurwood - Hirsch
On Saturday, May 11, 1997, 1
received a large manila envelope that
contained 9 issues of "The Middle
Village Newsletter". This was a
wonderful surprise, sent by my sister,
Merry. Aunt Freida (Himmelstein, of
course) said "You read them and
send them on to Dede." and so she
did.
Leafing through the papers I was
instantly overcome with feelings of
sentimentality and a longing for those
simple times - so long ago. But life, it
seems, has a way of changing things.
Flooded with memories, I began to
think of Middle Village as an enclave
- a small community where everyone
knows each other and takes care of
each other, an area which in large
part is sectioned off from the rest of
the city.
You see, my mother and father grew
up in the Village; in fact, both my
sets of grandparents lived in Middle
Village (around the corner from each
other) and while not many people
will remember me, there are still
enough "seniors" around that will
surely remember the Hurwitz Family
and the Himmelsteins. And in the
1940's and 50's there is no doubt that
my
grandfather,
Herman
Himmelstein, was the unofficial
Mayor of this enclave called Middle
Village. Herman was one of the
founders of the Middle Village Credit
Union and from the day it opened its
doors and for the rest of his life
everyone knew where Grandpa
Herman was on Tuesday nights.
Walking through the Village with
Grandpa was a real treat. He not only
knew everyone we passed - but he
knew everyone in their families and
all sorts of interesting details about
their latest "mitzvah's", so that each
encounter
became
a
social
experience. I would love to listen; I
learned so much. Maybe that is why
he called me a "busy body".
Living in the enclave there was no
need for day care or nursery school
because we all had "family" and
even though my mother worked, I
was cared for by my Grandmother.
Every morning for the first five years
of my life (before I went off to Mrs.
Rosen's kindergarten class at P.S. 87)
1 went for "coffee" with Grandma
Ray to her sister Fannie, who lived
two doors away. Fannie lived on the
second floor of a two family house
owned by Grandma's best friend
(who lived downstairs) Mrs. Malkin
or as Grandma referred to her in a
most endearing way - just plain
"Malkin".
My parents left the Village when I
was 7 years old - I knew even then
that the Village was a home I'd leave
many times - but never really leave and I continue to remember so much
of those early years today. Mostly, my
first grade boyfriend, who lived down
the street, Barbara Bruno's cousin
Johnie Congemi, and my first grade
girlfriends, Barbara Bruno who also
lived down the street, Heda Polanski,
who lived on 69th Avenue and
Frances Gavase, who lived on 79th
Street. Other first graders that are so
much a part of my early memories
were my cousin Larry's best buddies,
Danny Greenblatt, Larry Loft, Donny
Kobrin, our special friend, Sasha
Bunchuk and my other first grade
cousin, Barry Goldenberg.
We lived on 68th Avenue, the block
of P.S. 87 and my Grandmother lived
on 69th Avenue. I can still remember
every store, every house and every
person that dwelled between. My
favorite after school activity was
playing with my cousins, Larry
Himmelstein and Barry Goldenberg.
We played simple games on the stoop
of my Grandmother's house or in the
playground on 79th Street and 69th
Avenue. I don't even think we had
many toys beyond balls and jump
ropes, but, we had great imaginations
and most of all we had each other that is what life in the Village was all
about. I thought I was related to
everyone in Middle Village and in
one way or another I was. With Larry
I shared the Himmelsteins but, he
was also a Haber (and there was so
many Habers).
Freida was my real Aunt (married to
my even more real Uncle Archie)
because Archie was my mother
Beadie
Himmelstein's
brother.
However, Freida had sisters and
brothers too; there was Aaron and
Moishe and Itsy and Katie. I loved to
visit with them on Baba Lena's front
porch and so the Habers were part of
my extended family. With Barry, I
shared the Rubinsky Family, but he
was also a Goldenberg and a Sucoff
so the extended family grew --- to
this day it is unclear as to whether I
was ever really related to Stanley
Feingold??
I remember Markman's Grocery
Store, Seinfeld the Butcher and my
favorite candy store owned by Ruthie
Schoenberg.
I sometimes wonder why anyone left
the Village. Life only became more
and more complicated - more distant
from those we love. I look at my own
son, who just turned 8 years old and
think he will never know - waving to
cousins while standing on line in the
school yard, walking home at lunch
time to one of Grandma's delicious
"feinkophens", playing Cowboys and
Indians with cousins on the stoop
after school, walking to the Avenue
(Metropolitan., of course) with my
sister, Merry, stopping at Aunt
Freida's to see cousin Jeffrey's newest
snake - which you'd usually find
around his neck and if we were really
lucky we'd have picked a day that
Aunt Freida made her very special
chocolate chip cookies. And then
we'd continued on our way - knowing
that everyone we met was someone
who knew you, cared for you and
would take care of you. That was the
true definition of life in the Village in the enclave where I was born.
Thank you, Herb and Seena, for
giving me the opportunity to share
some thoughts, ideas and feelings.
Thank you too for giving me the
chance - if only for a split second - to
5
The Middle Villager
revisit my childhood. Who says you
can't go home again?
The Grocery Stores
of Middle Village
By Herb Teicher
I guess that I was about six years
old when my mother felt that I was
sufficiently mature and responsible
enough to begin doing chores and
errands to earn my keep. One
pleasant chore that I was given was
to "Go down the block to
Gumerick's Grocery Store." When
I walked into this provincial
grocery store at that tender age, I
felt as if I was walking into a
magical bazaar filled with exotic
merchandise and a medley of
aromas. If I were to describe the
aroma of that store as a formula for
a perfume it would be as follows:
Mix the smell of a Jewish salami
with the fragrance of garlicky
pickles with a dash of the scent of
caraway seeds on a fresh Pechter's
rye bread, a whiff of schmaltz
herrings aging in a barrel, a
smidgen of the redolence of fresh
cut American cheese and the
tiniest sweet wafting scent of the
chocolate from a huge slab of
seven layer cake. I can still smell
that blast of olfactory delight just
as Marcel Proust could taste those
madelines of his time. That aroma
will not be found on this planet
again. Those stores that produced
those sensual treats are just
memories in the hearts and souls of
their patrons whose numbers are
slowly diminishing.
On these short excursions my
mother would give me an
abbreviated shopping list: a half
pound of salami, four rolls and a
sour pickle. I was intrigued with
Mr. Gumernick's dexterity in first
peeling the salami and cutting off
slices of almost equal thickness. In
retrospect, it was amazing how,
when asked for a half a pound of
the checkerboard, he knew
instinctively the density and
volume of that particular cake from
the Messing Bakery and deftly cut
a rectangular piece that precisely
weighed eight ounces. Then when
the order was completed, he would
pluck the stubby pencil that was
perched on his ear and with the
rapidity of an early IBM Univac
Computer, he would write the
prices on a brown paper bag and
totaled it in a nanosecond.
On my way out, I would dawdle for
a few moments at the glass case
that enclosed the various candies
he stocked. I remember an older
girl buying what to me looked like
a diamond necklace. When I asked
what it was, I was told that it was
rock candy and Mr. Gumernick
gave me a small crystal to savor.
What a delight for a naive little
boy who thought that he was eating
diamonds! As I skipped out of the
store, bag in hand, the phantom of
aromas followed me for a while as
I wended my way home.
When I became a fledgling, I was
now able to walk to other environs
of the Village and I became
familiar with the other grocery
stores:
Mr. Kurzer, Blusteins,
Pessels, Bucksteins, Markman's
and Lopilato's Italian Grocery.
They were all basically the same;
each proprietor was draped in a
white apron with a stubby pencil
perched behind his right ear.
However, each grocer did have an
individual personality. Mr. & Mrs.
Gumernick were not effusive with
words but they seemed to like to
serve their customers. Mr. & Mrs.
Kerzer also had dour looks but
were very nice to me. I started to
"hang out" with Mr. Kerzer and
worked my way up to his Passover
order delivery boy, a very
responsible job for a ten year old. I
would help him fill the orders from
a checklist submitted by each
customer, pack items in cardboard
boxes and deliver them with
dispatch to the denizens who
eagerly awaited their matzoh meal
in order to prepare their matzoh
balls for the Passover meal. I
would
carefully
pack
my
homemade wagon - a large box
from
the
Smoke
House
(incidentally, the smell of lox
lingered in the wagon for years)
and wheels from a discarded baby
carriage. I performed all of these
duties in anticipation of a tip,
generally a quarter, since it took a
bit of acumen and skill to deliver
sundry groceries and four dozen
eggs that had to arrive unscathed.
What a happy boy I was the first
night of Passover as I ran down the
street pulling my empty wagon and
listening to the jingling coins in
the pocket of my corduroy knickers
anticipating my mother's Passover
fare: homemade gefilte fish with
fiery horseradish; savory hot meat
borscht that was the end product of
a huge crock that was kept in the
cellar filled with fermenting beets
that emitted a malodorous odor
during the four preceding weeks;
pot roast from the best cut
proffered by Mr. Lupchick. After
deep discussion and inspection
which I would witness knowing
that he would soon smile at me, pat
me on the head and then cut a
thick slice of salami and hand it to
me as one would give a tender
morsel to a favorite cat; and all
would be washed down with
endless glasses of my mother's
fragrant raisin wine. Thank you
momma for all your gastronomical
delights which even master chefs
from Le Cirque could never
replicate with all of their
pretensions and white truffles!
THE CATSKILLS
If you're interested in
spending a "Middle Village"
weekend in a Catskills resort
in either Spring or Fall 98 or
Spring 99, please contact
Herb Teicher
26 McDonald Street
Staten Island, NY 10314
(718) 761-4216
6
The Middle Villager
MAIL CALL!
contributed in some manner, we all
thank them, most emphatically me.
Bill Romer
Dear Herb & Seena,
I just got through digesting "The
Middle Villager." I must say thank
you to both of you. You brought
back memories - all beautiful - from
way back then.
Dear Herb,
I am putting on paper the story I told
you at the last Middle Village reunion
in February.
I lived up until I was 7 years old on the
corner of 75th Street and 69th Road by
Bastion's and of course I used to chum
with all the Jewish kids who lived
there and who went to the Shul on 7th
Street on Friday nights. My family
(The Butcher Boys) relocated to 79th
Street and 69th Road. One day, on my
way to school P.S. 87 I was grabbed by
the back of the neck and lifted off the
ground. To my surprise, it was the
Rabbi. He wanted to know why he
had not seen me at the Temple. I
couldn't convince him I wasn't Jewish.
After Bert Goldblum talked to him, he
finally let me go. I often laugh about
it.
In your November 96 issue, you wrote
about the reunion and you said the
incident with lighting of the stove was
done by Patsy DeSimone. Untrue it
was me "Emilio". My brother Patsy
now resides in Las Vegas. As for The
Lopilato Boys: Pete resides in Sewells
Point in Fla. And his brother Anthony
in L.A. (They are my cousins).
Emilio DeSimone

Dear Herby,
Thanks for your very comprehensive
writings of the Florida Middle
Villager Reunion held in February
1997. It was thoughtful of you to
mention my name even though an "E"
was omitted in the spelling. (I hope
it was not the "E" for effort).
However, recognition should also be
given to those who worked the
registrations and manned the tables.
David Devins, Arthur Handin, Sam
Klareich, Loser Klareich, Mace
Teicher, Herby Teicher, Ira Lindner.
To these men and others who
I lived in 68-04 79th Street across
from Sam Markman's store for 13
years from 1944 to 1957, in a 4 unit
house. The other people were the
Sunshines, the Rothenbergs and my
in laws Louis and Farny Bloomfield.
I lived there for 13 lovely years. In
fact I met my wife Lillian at the
Hebrew Institute. She was President
of the "Middle Village Serviceman's
Entertainment League," a kind of
USO. The Charter was written up by
Mrs. Welish, Harry's wife and
Lillian. They had 50 girls and a
backup of 50 - 75 girls too. Took a
lot of doing.
I'm a 75 year old man and my wife
Lillian just fought her way back from
a stroke. She's about 90% back,
Thank God.
I work as a Banquet Cook at a
Casino in Nevada to supplement S.S.
Thank God I can work. I'm also a
poet of sorts and have been published
50/60 times. (Sorry that we ran out of
room for an enclosed poem).
I must thank Bunny Brody - I didn't
know of your lovely paper. I'll write
you more stuff about Middle Village
and that area as time goes by.
Lots of news for you and your
wonderful people. I even know why
LaGuardia put a gate around
Newtown Creek. I was there at the
Dedication - Also a billion dollar
accident - The first supermarket and
how it came about.
Love, Lillian & Leon,
Our SINCERE THANKS to
each of you who have taken
time to write and Leon you
sure have piqued our interest;
we are eagerly looking forward
to receiving your stories.
And, in order to keep this
newsletter alive, healthy and
interesting, we need YOUR
letters and stories, PLEASE!
Thanks again for the catch up.
It's not the gift but the
thought that counts ......
Actually, in this case, it's the gift,
too. You’d be amazed at just how
much everyone appreciates their
gift subscription to The Middle
Villager! It’s easy and reasonably
priced. (Not sure whether they get
it already? That’s simple, too.
Just take the eye test on page 10).
They’ll even get to see their name
in print - right here in The Middle
Villager.
Speaking of which,
Gilbert Ballen, Leon & Sandra
Einhorn, Murray & Rita Nord
Flatow, Charlotte Fried Maleck,
Jackie Maleck & Gloria Fried Saul
have all received subscriptions
compliments of Leo Lewis,
Merry Thurwood Slone
has received a subscription compliments of Frieda Himmelstein,
Norma Berger
has received a subscription
courtesy of Roberta Kloper.
Isidore & Betty Eisen
has received a subscription
courtesy of Blossom Eisen Rosen.
Cecille Radsken
has received a subscription
courtesy of Joel Radsken
Mel (Bunny Brody)
has received a subscription courtesy of Lillian Bloomfield Levine
YOU are still needed
PLEASE HELP!
7
The Middle Villager
YOU SHOULD HAVE COME!
(By Jimmy Cassano)
to help us find .........
Angela Alberta  Ivan Alleavitch 
Charles Benjamin  Audrey Bergman 
Albert & Judi Hoffman Boltax  Barbara
Boxer  Sandra Bresnick  Susan Wolpin
Brodsky  Johnny Bruno  Alan Chutsky
 Laura Colangelo  Joseph Depperman 
Bernie Dworkin  Virginia Ellis  Ann
Feder  Steve Frank  Bertram Freifeld 
Gerald Fuchs  Pat Frank Gill  Bertram
GoldbloomMarty Goldmintz  Dan
Goodman  Edith Goodman  Lester
Goodman  Steven Gould  Leo Haag 
Kenneth Herel  Ronald Herel  Larry
Howard  Martha Finkelstein Hybar 
Regina Jamron  Al Isaacson  Fran Kalafer
 Irv Katz  Phil Klinger  Theodore
(Teddy) Krakower  Mary Levine Krystal 
Seena Laster  Lillian Lichter  Shelley Leib
 Norman Lieberman  Steven Levine 
Gail Lewand  Albert Longabardi  Dorothy
Longabardi  Johnny Marino  Lillian
Merkel  Pat Merkel  Seymour
Mickenberg  Maurice Miller  Arnie
Morrell  Howie Moseson  Alan
Pasternack  David Reuar  Robert
Schaefer Robert Schneck  Harvey
Schoenberg  Evelyn Schusterman 
Rochelle Schwartz  Sidney Schwartz 
Frances Seitelman  Henry Shatz  Dr.
Larry Silver  Stan Simon  Alan Susnow 
Alan Tanenbaum  Bruce Taylor  Robert
Watt  Linda Withowski  Joe Yankowitz 
Ina Zuretsky  Fran Zweibel
On May 17th, we had a reunion in
Nederstein's
Restaurant
on
Metropolitan Avenue. Originally a
little more than one hundred families
were sent invitations. When we
finally met on the 17th, one hundred
and eight (108) were in attendance.
To a person, everyone agreed that it
was one of the most wonderful nights
of their lives. One and all agreed that
if one word could be used to describe
the night, that word would be
"Perfect."
The warmth, friendliness, and
happiness of that night, made us all
feel that we were back to our youth in
the Village again. I hadn't seen
Barbara Messer for fifty two years,
and yet when we saw each other, it
felt that it were only yesterday.
To show the wide scope of this
endeavor, try to picture the United
Please help us locate these friends of ours.
They are loved and missed. We won’t “give
up” until we find them all.
Special Requests:
Jeff Braverman
wants to locate Steve Frank and Myrna
Berbiar Abelson wants to locate Steve’s sister,
Pat Frank Gill. Joseph Curcio is looking for:
Johnny Bruno, Robert Schaefer, Robert
Watt, Sidney Goodman is looking for Dr.
Larry Silver & Doris Israels Katz would like
to find: Dan, Edith and Lester Goodman.
Selma Goldsmith Sagalow wants to find
Evelyn Schusterman & Lillian Lichter.
Yetta Pollak Brodie is looking for Theodore
(Teddy) Krakower Leo Lewis wants to find
Bertram Goldbloom, Al Isaacson and
Seymour Mickenberg. Jackie Maleck is
looking for Doreen Levine. Mel Brody
would like to locate Bertram (Bert)
Goldblum.
Tell Spencer Wulwick
58-05 76th St - Elmhurst, NY 11373-5225
(718) 507-6647 or Fax (718) 507-4815
Special thanks from Mel "Bunny"
Brody to Hilda Strenger Teitlebaum
for finding his old friend, Jerry
"Snitcher" Sands, who now lives in
Florida.
States, way out in California. Richie
and Lillian Dokter and Tommy
Puffiola. From Glendale, Arizona,
Kenny and JoAnn Conklin. Further
south in Houston Texas, Billy &
Theresa Seidl. East to Florida with
Herby Hochstadt & Betty & Don
Amato. At the tip of Long Island in
Montauk Point, George & Herby
Knobloch.
From Mass, Merrill
Oltchick, while in New Hampshire,
Elizabeth Davis Pearcy. Yet about
500 feet from Niedersteins the home
of Norma (Powell) & Artie Owen.
So we went from coast to coast and
border to border.
Growing up in the Village, we were
from many different backgrounds:
Catholic, Jewish Protestant, German,
Irish Italian, Polish and more. That
never made any difference to us
because we cared about who you
were, not what you were. It was the
same at the reunion. We were there
as "Villagers," and that was what
was important.
There were police officers, stock
brokers, firemen, travel agents,
sanitation men, engineers, business
people and nurses. We ranged in age
from approximately fifty five (55) to
seventy (70).
Here's a list* of those who were there
so that you can see who attended. To
those of you who were invited but
didn't attend, I say again,
"You should have come."
*Get out the magnifying glasses again.
Mr. & Mrs. Vito Adamo - Mr. Paul Alexander
- Mr. & Mrs. Don Amato - Mr. & Mrs. Andy
Barba - Mr. & Mrs. Blanch - Mr. & Mrs. Bob
Bicknese - Mr. & Mrs. Bob - Mr. & Mrs.
Eddie Caffrey - Mr. & Mrs. Jimmy Cassano Mr. & Mrs. Richie Christopher - Mrs.
Georginana Clark - Mr. & Mrs. Joe Congemi
- Mr. & Mrs. Kenny Conklin - Mr. & Mrs. Joe
Curcio _ Mr. & Mrs. Mike D'Angelo - Mr. &
Mrs. Sal D'Angelo - Mr. & Mrs. Gerard
Delace - Mr. & Mrs. Red Dokter - Mr. Evans
De Santis & guest - Mr. & Mrs. Joe Di Salvo
- Mr. & Mrs. Billy Epsky - Mr. & Mrs. Joe
Faccibene - Mrs. Barbara Messer Fisher Mr. & Mrs. Norman Fried - Ms. Beth Frosh Mr. Tony Gambino & guest - Mr. & Mrs.
Artie Gerdts - Mr. & Mrs. Joe Giuda - Mr.
Herbert Hochstadt - Mr. & Mrs. Tommy
James - Mr. & Mrs. Arthur Katz - Mr. & Mrs.
George Keuling - Mr. & Mrs. Russel Kewling
- Mr. George Knobloch - Mr. Herbert
Knobloch - Mrs. & Mrs. John Larrocchia Mr. Louis Mandata & guest - Mr. & Mrs. Al
Mazzotta - Mrs. Peggy Colwell Molinaw - Mr
& Mrs. Don Murray y- Mr. & Mrs. Bob
McKeown - Mr. & Mrs. Bob Nomile - Mr.
Merrill Oltchick - Mr. & Mrs. Arthur Owen Mrs. Mary Foster Patanella - Mrs. Elizabeth
Davis Pearcy - Mr. & Mrs. Peccia - Mr.
August Perri - Mr. & Mrs. Ted Penuche Mr. & Mrs. Jimmyu Priomos - Mrs. Lillian
Tramantano Rizzo - Mr. & Mrs. Stanley
Rothman - Mr. Joseph Scheinfeld - Mrs.
Anna Gambino Schmidt - Mr. & Mrs. Billy
Seidl - Mr. & Mrs. Herbie Schrage - Ms.
Delores Stas - Mrs. Peggy Assante
Swiatccha - Mr. & Mrs. Bobby Tartaglia Mrs. Angela Faccibene Torres - Mr. Tom
Tubbiola - Mr. & Mrs. Tom Valente - Mr. &
Mrs. Bob Waiznegger - Mrs. Charlotte
Jurgens Weiss
8
The Middle Villager
9
The Middle Villager
10
The Middle Villager
The Middle Villager - Current Subscribers (Or the “Do-It-Yourself” Eye-Test)
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Hill - Frieda (Haber) Himmelstein - Jeffrey Himmelstein - Larry & Ginny Himmelstein - Felix & Cynthia Markman Hochstadt - Gerson & Gladys Prims Hochstadt Herb Hochstadt - Stan & Sandy Nadler Hochstadt - Mona Mokotoff Holzman - Eli Howard - Harris & Carol Howard - Larry Isaacson - Dorothy Itzkowitz - Rosalind
Kleinman Jaffe - Ronnie Jurgens - Arthur Katz - Doris Israels Katz - James J. Kelly - Russell & Louise Muzio Keuling - Barbara R. Chernow Kimmel - Lawrence
Klareich - Florence Nemeth Klim - Herbie Kloper - Ken & Sheila Kloper - Stephen & Roberta Kloper - Harold Kohn - William Kohn - Charlotte Kuzins - Douglas
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Maleck - Paul Malkin - Ralph & Roberta Shulman Mannheimer - Irwin & Beverly Gard Markman - Seymour & Phyllis Markman - Ronald Maron - Middle Village
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Ribner - Barbara Robbins - Carole & William Romer - Blossom Eisen Rosen - Frieda Block Rosenberg - Kenneth & Bernice Gelbstein Rosenblum - Cynthia Schecter
Rosenfeld - Selma Klahr Rudnick - Howard & Anita Kladney Saffran - Selma Goldsmith Sagalow - Bonnie & David Salkind - Wally Salshutz - Paul Saltin - Rae Hirsch
Santman - Michael & Sabra Teicher Satten - Gloria Fried Saul - Perry Scalza - Jerry Scharf - Jay & Ruth Held Schecter - Elaine & Sidney Scheinfeld - Jack Schlomm Neil Schorr - Gerald & Susan Weiss Schultz - Abraham Schuster - Arthur Schwartz - Leonard & Rose (Ackerman) Schwartz - Dave Schwartzberg - Edward
Schwartzberg - Florence & Martin M. Schwartzberg - Murray & Evelyn Barber Schwartzman - Shirley Pollak Sekuler -Lawrence Silber - Jayne Sillari - Jerome &
Sylvia Shulman Silverberg - June Jacobowitz Silverman - Mario Silvestri - Tessie Sirota - Merry Thurwood Slone - Marsha Smith - Raymond & Toby Falik Snitow Rose Solomon - Danny & Shoshana (Rosalie) Gross Sommer - Arthur & Ivy Storch - Stu & Rita Fassler Stromfeld - Rochelle (Ricki) Sturza - Arthur Sunshine - Shirley
Chassin Tabenkin - Alan & Marion Malkin Taub - Harry Teicher - Herbert & Linda Teicher - Jerry & Mace Teicher - Samuel & Anne Teicher - Hilda Strenger
Teitelbaum - Phyllis Grodnick Trenk - Bernard & Roberta Wagman - Joyce & Steve Wall - Esther Shulman Waxman - Beulah Weiss - Warren Weiss - William
Weissbach - Allan Wellish - Carl Wellish M.D. - Robert & Debbie Teicher Welner - Cheryl Werner - Sharon Feingold Weiner - Stanley & Connie Weinstock - Florence
Michaelson Weissman - Amy & Jack Wile - Harold Wile - Julius & Harriet Wischick - Michael & Susan Wolfe - Morton & Yvonne Shrage Wolfe - Julius Yudel Wolfin
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Middle Villager
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complete the tear-off sheet below and mail it along with a check for $15.00 payable to:
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reminiscences, poetry, Middle Village trivia questions (& answers), recipes, updates of addresses & phone numbers and news. To
expedite changes, contact: Spencer Wulwick - 58-05 76th Street - Elmhurst, NY 11373-5225 or (718) 507-6647 or (718) 507-4815
(Fax)
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