Anthony,

The Old Nutley website has certainly jogged some long dormant remembrances of my early years growing up in Nutley.

For what they’re worth, here are some additional tidbits.

My Dad, who was born in 1910 and lived in Nutley for over 70 years, used to tell me about some of his boyhood experiences growing up in Nutley in the late teens and early 1920’s.  I remember him telling me about a Nutley High School football team in the early 1920’s that was known as the “Wonder Team” because they went unbeaten and un-scored upon for an entire season.  I also seem to recall him mentioning that a fellow by the name of Jack Speary was a notable player on that team.  And if my dimming memory serves me, I also seem to recall him telling me that back then there apparently was no age limitation on players, and that some of the players on the team were in their early twenties.  But don’t hold me to it.  Maybe some of the older, old timers from Nutley can amplify or rectify my recollections on this.

He also told me about how he and his friends would swim naked in the Third River (?) that runs through what is now Booth Park that lies behind the houses on Ravine Ave.  I believe their swimming escapades took place around 1920 or so, before the park or any houses on Ravine Ave were built, and the area was still mostly wooded.  He said that he and his buddies would dam up the river to form a pool and called the spot “Bare Ass Beach” for obvious reasons.

I remember buying gasoline at Mike Vitterito’s Tydol station that used to be on the corner of Bloomfield Ave and Center Street and also at John Christopher’s Sunoco station at the southern end of Bloomfield Ave near Harrison Ave.

I also remember buying Italian Hot Dog sandwiches at Mastro’s luncheonette on Franklin Ave across from the High School.  I always thought that theirs were as good as Jimmy Buff’s.

The summer between High School and college I worked at George LaMont & Sons paper mill that used to be on Kingsland Ave.  One of my co-workers there was Bobby DeLitta who eventually became a Nutley police officer and ultimately the Chief.  And speaking of police officers, I remember being stopped for speeding early one morning on East Passaic Ave by officer Sal Dimichino, who also became chief, and who let me go with a warning only because he knew my mother.  He asked me if my mother would appreciate knowing I was speeding in her car in the wee hours of the morning.  That question scared the crap out of me because I knew that if he told my mother, there went my car privileges. (He didn’t)  I was actually more fearful of my Mom’s wrath than getting a ticket.  And if my Dad had found out, fuhggedaboudit, a smackin’ around was guaranteed.

I owe a debt of gratitude to the Nutley School System and the great teachers who taught in it because even though I was an average student, I eventually did very well academically in college as well the business world.  I attribute much of my success to the quality of education that I was fortunate to have had in the Nutley School System.  I guess I absorbed plenty of knowledge just by being immersed in the system.

When I would occasionally mention to acquaintances that my High School had a Rowing or “Crew” Team, the initial inference they drew was that I had gone to a private school.  That caused me to wonder just how many public schools still have or had Crew Teams.

All for now.  More to come as my ungracefully aging brain resurrects additional memories.

Anthony,

I grew up on Bloomfield Ave and remember when a Junkman used to come around in an old horse drawn wagon.  You always knew when he was arriving because you’d hear the clip clop of his horse’s hooves on the pavement before he called out: “Rags! Rags! Junk Man!”  This was in the early 1950’s and he still had a horse drawn wagon.  Another guy used to come around in a step van who sharpened knives, scissors or any other cutting tool that needed sharpening. And then there was the produce guy who came around in a long, kinda narrow truck that had awnings on the sides to protect the fruits and veggies from the sun. 

From the time I was about 10 years old my folks would send me to Bernie’s Deli at the corner of Bloomfield Ave and Raymond Ave to buy them cigarettes, and Bernie knew they were for my parents because of the brand I asked for.  One day when relatives were visiting, they sent me to Bernie’s for a couple of packs of Camels, and when I asked Bernie for the Camels, he glowered at me and asked me who they were for as he remembered that my folks smoked Pall Malls.

The Yankees’ Gil MacDougal lived up the hill from us on Ridge Road, and he would wave back at you if you were walking by and waved to him.

I always looked forward to sleigh riding on the Western side of Beech Street.  The police used to put up wooden barricades at the bottom of the street to keep out all but the cars of Beech St residents. I recall one day when a Spring Garden School classmate, who became an Attorney with a practice in Nutley, broke his arm after sledding into a tree.  It seems to me now that we had more snow back in those days.

Speaking of Spring Garden School, I remember Glynder Fowler the boys Gym teacher and Miss Byers, the girls Gym teacher who married Karekin Bakalian who was my 6^th grade teacher.  I also remember Miss Weischaedel, Miss Siddons, Mrs. Kramer, Miss Potter and Mrs. Pompadour, the music teacher.  For amusement, we used to play a form of stickball where we used “strike” squares that had been painted on the Gymnasium side wall of Spring Garden School, and we used those pink Spaldeen balls along with sawed off broomstick handles for bats.  Any pitched ball that landed in the strike square was, of course, a strike. 

And who can forget the trips to Holsten’s in Bloomfield in the much earlier, pre-Soprano days, for their scrumptious ice cream sodas.  My wife, who went to Immaculate Conception High in Montclair, class of ’62, used to frequent Holstens, and we occasionally muse that we both could have been in the place at the same time back in the day.

And then there was Crecca’s Tavern – which is long gone – on East Passaic Ave. where my Dad would go to play, “Scoop” and “Briesch” (SP?) (card games) with his Paisan buddies, in addition to having a “few” beers.  My Pop also used to frequent Duck’s Tavern on Bloomfield Ave, which I noticed is now under a new name.  He was a friend of “Greenie” Marcione who owned the tavern at the time of my youth.   

I used to buy nearly all my shoes from Al Lepre’s shoe store on Franklin Ave (another one of my Pop’s Paisan buddies.)

And there was Mike Testa, the Tailor, with a shop on Franklin Ave. who charged 90 bucks back then to make a custom tailored suit with my choice of material.

There was also the Reinheimer’s Boy’s Club (I think it was on Passaic Ave.) where a guy by the name of “Smock” Simpson would teach boxing skills.  I remember the boxing gloves were so big; they were like big pillows on your hands.

I also remember bowling at Bigelow Lanes.  Bigelow’s, which was a small, old operation, had alleys on the first and second floors, and even though automatic pin setters had been in use for a while, Bigelows still had Pin Boys who set the pins by hand. 

At Nutley High, I remember taking Driver’s Education with Mr. John Suffern, a math teacher, and for practice driving we had to use this big, 1955 Buick, 4 door sedan, which had an extra brake pedal for the instructor. Driving that beast was like maneuvering a barge.  I also have fond memories of Maxine Hoffer, my senior year English teacher, who, with her beaming, bespectacled countenance, would inform those of us “wretched miscreants,” who had failed to turn in a paper on time, that we were “…going to Hell in a hand basket.”  And for me that was an all too frequent occurrence as I recall. I guess that’s why I remember it.

I remember Friday nights at Bonds in Styertowne and the drag races that were arranged out of there.  The rich kids from Upper Montclair would come down with their fuelie Vettes and the races would take place on McCarter highway, or Route 21 if you prefer.  

Growing up in Nutley in the 1950’s was a wonderful experience: Lots of very fond memories.