THE ROCKAWAY I KNEW
By Matthew Bashie
CHAPTER THREE: MY FIRST JOB
Imagine being stuck in an elevator! What a harrowing and terrifying experience it must be to be held prisoner in that metal closet - truly a mechanical nightmare.
Early one morning, shortly after we had moved into our new apartment in Far Rockaway, my dad told me that there had been "a bit of trouble" the night before involving our immediate next door neighbor and the apartment house elevator. I had slept through the night - my bedroom was no where near the main hallway so I would not have been disturbed by any outside activity. It seems that an older woman had gotten stuck in the elevator and had gotten injured in her attempt to escape from the confinement.
As I mentioned to you in a previous chapter, our apartment was directly next door to a small garbage drop-off room but on the other side of the "dump", the next apartment was a two-room studio apartment. Our neighbor was a single older woman who as it turned out, was the grand daughter of Julia and Michael Holland. For those of you who are not familiar with the Rockaways, back in 1857 Mr. Holland purchased 65 acres of land between the beach blocks of 88th and 101st Street and the area still holds his name. His wife had been the first school mistress in the very first school in the Rockaway Beach area sometime around 1881.
What had occurred that unfortunate evening in June of 1952 is that Miss
Holland was taking the elevator down to the basement to do some laundry
in the coin-operated basement laundry room shared by all three apartment
sets within the building and during her trip downward, the elevator had
gotten stuck between floors. The 69 year old woman tried to call for help
by ringing the alarm button on the elevator "call board" but
when no one responded, she tried to climb up to the top of the cage by
standing on a hand-rail that had been installed at the sides of the carrier
and when she got to the top, she lost her footing and she fell to the
floor.
I don't know what she thought she was going to do by reaching the top of the cart, unscrewing the "wing nuts" that held the 2-Foot square access panel, and then by removing the cover. Certainly she was not strong enough or physically able to lift her weight to climb onto the top of the elevator to crawl her way up to the next floor landing. In fact, the "works" - the motors and cables were tied to the top of the car so there was no possible way in which she would have been able to maneuver had she actually been able to climb out of the elevator, but she made a valiant attempt and she fell as a result of her efforts and she got seriously hurt.
My dad told me that Miss Holland was in St. Joseph's - our local hospital - and when she returned home, she was going to need some help getting around. By "getting around" my father meant that the old woman was afraid to ride in the
elevator alone and needed someone to accompany her every time she needed to avail herself of the convenience. So, I had a job!
From then on, whenever Miss Holland needed to ride down (or up) in the elevator, she wanted someone to be with her. I had no idea of what I would be expected to do. What was I to do if the elevator got stuck again? I was nine years old and was less than five feet tall and I only weighed about 80 pounds. However, my dad assured me that it was strictly psychological -she needed the comfort and reassurance to know that she was not alone. I was to keep track of all the times that I spent riding up and down with Miss Holland and at the end of each week, my father would give me an extra dime in my allowance for each time that I was inconvenienced.
In those days, each Wavecrest apartment set had a series of buttons in (what is laughingly referred to as) the lobby and this very early attempt at apartment security provided buzzers in each apartment that could be activated by pressing the appropriate button on the display panel at the main entrance to the building. So, every time Miss Holland was outside and wanted to get my attention, she would give my apartment a series of three buzzes to let me know that she needed me and then I would run down the stairs to help her with her packages and ride up in the elevator with her. Sometimes she would want to do her laundry and so I would carry her baskets downstairs and then sit with her in the laundry room while she did her wash. I had nothing but free time back then so it was really easy money and she was pleasant to talk with.
I can still remember what she looked like - and she had lost three front teeth in her fall to the elevator floor which she was still in the process of repairing. I don't remember many of the stories that she told me. That is truly a shame because I am sure that most of what she had to say was about her "famous" grandfather and his contributions to the peninsula.
Shortly before the end of the calendar year, my dad told me that "my friend" had moved out. In retrospect, she was probably able to break her lease due to her injury. I have no idea of whether or not she actually brought the management to court over the incident; my father would never discuss that kind of matter with me. I only know that it ended my "extra source of income"and I no longer had my friend so I felt a double loss. It is events like this one which make up childhood experiences - things that stay with us all of our lives.
If you wish to contact me at any time, feel free to do so through this web site. I always love hearing from my fans and friends. M.B.
I always love hearing from my fans and friends. M. B.