THE ROCKAWAY I KNEW
By Matthew Bashie

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - PLAYING HOUSE, THE GROWN-UP WAY

So? When are you gonna grow up? Are you planning to be a child forever? You'd better buckle down because before you know it, you are going to have to face a lot of gosh-darn responsibility. For me it happened sooner than later!

The summer vacation between my junior and senior high school years was probably the most eventful two months of my life. I had always been a true "latchkey" kid - seldom at home (except to sleep), my only real interaction with my parents were the few times we ate supper together - usually at Berger's Restaurant on Friday nights. My dad spent more and more time out of the house and soon it became apparent that things were going a bit awry in the household. By the end of the school year I realized that, for the most part, I was being left to my own devices. I found myself living all alone. Previously, I had established a checking account with one of the local banks - Chase Manhattan on the corner of Cornaga and Central Avenues and either my mom or dad provided the money with which to pay bills. This was an era before credit cards. I duly made deposits into my checking account and wrote out and cashed checks to give myself some sort of an allowance.

One of my best friends was facing a similar situation. Having moved into our apartment complex from an area in Nassau which was in the process of becoming a slum, he had lost his dad due to complications from the Korean War and his mother was heavily engaged in the process of "landing" a new mate. So, during her "husband hunting" weekends, she abandoned her teenage son - her own parents living several flights up in the same apartment building, it was hoped that they would look after him and care for his safety. It is one thing to reject parental supervision but to be placed at the mercy of elderly grandparents is another issue completely. So, it was only a matter of time when the attractive young woman found herself on a trip to the altar - a new apartment and a way to place her loving son at a bit of a distance - to guarantee the success of her new coupling. So, within a few weeks, I had a paying roommate.

Shortly thereafter, we added a third teenage bachelor to our collection when yet another close pal emancipated himself from quarreling parents and joined us in our own crash pad. We now had three young guys in a Wavecrest Gardens apartment - four and half rooms which accounted for two separate bedrooms, a large living room and an eat-in kitchen - the largest apartment available in the particular housing complex. We kept the place clean and we conducted our business in a very "low-key" manner - trying very hard not to attract too much attention. We certainly didn't want the neighbors to fear that something was running amuck and start complaining to management. We must have been doing "ok" because things went quite smoothly. I stopped by the rental office and paid the rent on a regular basis, arranged for the apartment to be repainted, and set up a schedule for bug extermination and for some basic repairs to the electrical outlets and apparently no one was the wiser because we were never challenged. The large housing development seemed to have no trouble at all in dealing with a 16 year old renter - interesting??

Three unrelated teenagers living together and for the most part, we got along because we seldom spent too much time together - that is, outside of the apartment. We were each in different grades in school and we had our own friends. Those certainly were some happy times - we would send out for pizza on Saturday nights - have a couple bottles of soda available - invite some of our friends over.

On one occasion, the youngest of our group decided to smoke. He bought a pack of cigarettes from the local store, and one evening after we had eaten, he pulled out the pack and "lit one up." "How do I look?" he inquired. Frankly, he looked rather stupid. And we told him so! That was the last time I ever saw him smoke. My dad was a smoker so I was used to it in the apartment and if my roomie had wanted to take up the habit, he was welcome to do so as far as I was concerned. As to liquor and beer - neither of my parents used the stuff so I never had any around. Back in those days, it really wasn't a necessity - at least not as far as we were concerned.

One of the major events of that summer which stands out in my mind was a large fire which destroyed the grouping of stores on the southwest corner of Beach 35th Street in Edgemere. The straight run of storefronts extended the length of the block - from the corner of 35th right down to the corner of 36th. The fire broke out in the corner 35th Street store - a small grocery and produce shop. That building was completely burned out, taking with it an immediate neighbor - a real estate office. One of my friends and I took the walk down to see the damage. What had once been the large plate-glass window of the real estate store was lying over the sidewalk in glass fragments. There had been no display behind the window of that shop - just a simple black home-style telephone sitting in the window, with rotary dial facing outward to advertise the business phone number - a very common practice back in those days. I remember the phone being totally melted - only the plastic bakelite receiver was still intact. My pal and I sat on what was left of the store front and played with the non-working phone. Several times, police cars drove by - seeing two teenagers sitting in the front of a burned-out storefront - but they never stopped or seemed interested as to what we were doing.

When we got bored of sitting on the rubble, we walked westward and went into to several of the other storefronts - all of the doors had been busted out by the fire department when they had originally fought the fire. I guess no one had given any thought to boarding up the damaged building - it was probably doomed for demolition. The fire had spread via the roof to only three or four of the store fronts - most of the unrented stores had been vacant for decades and there really was nothing in any of them to steal anyway. We just looked around, our explorations were at a minimum. During our brief tour, we happened upon a gentleman who was sitting in a back office of one of the storefronts - we were as surprised to see him as we was to see us. Obviously a businessman from the suit he was wearing, he was engaged in a telephone conversation. We briefly stared at each other, he went back to his phone conversation and we politely left the premises without ever having said a word to each other. Remember, this was 1960.

Fifty years have gone by and I can still remember the sights and sounds of that wonderful summer vacation. For some reason, it felt like it was going to be my last one. I knew that after my high school graduation, I would certainly have to obtain some sort of seasonal employment and I would be attending college in the fall. There comes a time to put aside childish things.

If you wish to contact me at any time, feel free to do so through this web site. matt@rockawaymemories.com

I always love hearing from my fans and friends. M. B.