2017 - In the following piece I talk a lot about my Nisenkier neighbors. They clearly had a big impact on my early childhood so it is only natural that I went on the internet to see what I could find. Sadly, I discovered that Chiam had died at a fairly young age. It was clear from my interactions with him that he was a great guy and the couple of articles I found attested to this. I wish I had pictures from those days.
Chiam Nisenkier
Author: STAFF Union-News (SPRINGFIELD, MASS.) Date: April 19, 1999 Publication: Union-News (Springfield, MA) Page Number: B06
SPRINGFIELD Chiam Nisenkier, 44, of 77 Gillette Ave., died Saturday at home. He was a driver for the Springfield Day Nursery. Born here, he graduated from the former Classical High School in 1973. He leaves his wife, the former Susan Cagan of Springfield; two stepchildren, Patrick and Sarah Cagan, both of Springfield; his father, Morris of Springfield; and two brothers, Lavek of Agawam and Joseph of Springfield. The funeral will be Tuesday afternoon at Harold R. Ascher & Son Memorial.
EXPERIENCE THE EXCITEMENT... Kid's Cup Challenge
RACERS...START YOUR ENGINES!
Author: GEORGE LENKER
STAFF Union-News (Springfield, Mass.) Date: May 4, 2001 Publication: Union-News (Springfield, MA) Page Number: 02
Chiam Nisenkier didn't need a race car to take first place in his co-workers hearts. So it's fitting that this year's Kid's Cup Challenge is being held in Nisenkier's memory: the winner will receive the Chiam Nisenkier Cup. Nisenkier, a former van driver for the Springfield Day Nursery, died April 17, 1999 after a 9-month battle with pancreatic cancer. Although he was listed as a van driver, Niesenkier often filled in in other capacities, such as (Sadly, I did not get the rest of this article).
Chiam Nisenkier
Author: STAFF Union-News (SPRINGFIELD, MASS.) Date: April 19, 1999 Publication: Union-News (Springfield, MA) Page Number: B06
SPRINGFIELD Chiam Nisenkier, 44, of 77 Gillette Ave., died Saturday at home. He was a driver for the Springfield Day Nursery. Born here, he graduated from the former Classical High School in 1973. He leaves his wife, the former Susan Cagan of Springfield; two stepchildren, Patrick and Sarah Cagan, both of Springfield; his father, Morris of Springfield; and two brothers, Lavek of Agawam and Joseph of Springfield. The funeral will be Tuesday afternoon at Harold R. Ascher & Son Memorial.
EXPERIENCE THE EXCITEMENT... Kid's Cup Challenge
RACERS...START YOUR ENGINES!
Author: GEORGE LENKER
STAFF Union-News (Springfield, Mass.) Date: May 4, 2001 Publication: Union-News (Springfield, MA) Page Number: 02
Chiam Nisenkier didn't need a race car to take first place in his co-workers hearts. So it's fitting that this year's Kid's Cup Challenge is being held in Nisenkier's memory: the winner will receive the Chiam Nisenkier Cup. Nisenkier, a former van driver for the Springfield Day Nursery, died April 17, 1999 after a 9-month battle with pancreatic cancer. Although he was listed as a van driver, Niesenkier often filled in in other capacities, such as (Sadly, I did not get the rest of this article).
The Neighbors
As a Catholic growing up it was my duty to dislike Jews. OK, we weren’t really taught that specifically but it sure was drilled into our heads in religion class that the Jews killed Jesus. Not being able to muster up the ability to think originally when I was young, I didn’t seem to realize that Jesus was Jewish, himself. So really, it was just a case of a group of people killing their own and not some strange man from another country. I’m not justifying their actions but I am merely trying to point out that when you’re a kid, you only hear what you are told.
What does this have to do with the neighbors? Well, in general, the neighbors were good Irish and French Catholics with a dabbling of Protestants left over from when everyone in Springfield was a Protestant. There were only three families that I was aware of that were Jewish. Josh’s family (18-see map below), whose family name I cannot recall, the Marks family (19), and the Nisenkiers (4). Josh and his family were the strange kind, the ones who wore the funny hats and wore black on Saturdays. The Nisenkiers were just like us except that they didn’t believe in Jesus, or at least they weren’t supposed to as self-proclaimed Jews. The Marks were somewhere in between.
I don’t really remember how I met Josh but I do remember that I thought all of his customs were out there. He wore the Yamulkah and he wasn’t supposed to walk more that 3 steps without it on his head (or something like that). He went to “church” on Saturdays so that made him a freak in my little mind. Everyone knew that Sunday was the day of rest but they didn’t seem to know this simple fact. I once helped the family build a small wooden “tent” in their driveway for use in one of their many holidays. I think I was a little confused that they didn’t invite me over even though I had helped them with their tent. However, I could be remembering that wrong. It’s quite possible that they DID invite me and I refused, thinking that celebrating at a Jewish event might send me to hell. It was a tenuous relationship I had with Josh and I don’t think we had much of one for very long. I don’t think it helped that the others guys in my neighborhood pretty much didn’t associate with him. One thing his family was good for was that I could always rely on Josh’s mother to hire me to shovel her sidewalk and driveway in the winter. She was soooo short, maybe 4 and a half feet, if that. They had some money and I was willing to take advantage of that. I knew that I could charge them a little more because of this fact. Plus, experience told me that she was, how shall I say this? Persnickety, picky, anal retentive. So, the higher cost was justified. I got about $10 which was a TON of money for me back then. The fact that she was picky helped reinforce the stereotype of the money-grubbing Jews in my mind. This is actually odd because you would think that the laid back Nisenkiers would UNreinforce the stereotype.
John was more friends with the Marks kids than I was probably because they were younger than me. There was David and his younger sister Allie. I remember thinking Allie was cute even though she was younger than me but I have always had an eye for the ladies, even when I was in kindergarten. I don’t remember too much about them except that David was erratic in his friendship with John and his family didn’t seem to approve of us. Funny thing, though. When I went to UMASS, I ended up meeting Allie again. She had no recollection of me but I think she remembered John. She was still cute but she definitely had some issues. Apparently, she had once tried to kill herself. In retrospect, that didn’t seem odd to me. The family seemed controlling to me even to my childhood brain. It was strange to meet someone “all grown up”.
The Nisenkiers of 51 Mountainview St, in case you hadn’t already figured this out, were an integral part of my growing up. The family members included the Morris the father and his three sons Chaim, Lavek, and Joe. We all got a great laugh out of the fact that the two older brothers had these strange names and then there was Joe. Morris used to drive a distributor truck and didn’t talk too much to us. When he did, it was difficult to understand him because he had a very thick accent. He also had boobs. I bring this up because this was also a great source of amusement to we kids. As I find myself beginning to get the seeds of boobies myself, I find this attribute of Morris’ not as funny today. A great thing about their house was where they kept the TV. I always thought it was cool that they had their television in the kitchen. What efficiency! They had a couple of cars but what stands out is the gem of the 70s. A red AMC Pacer. What a beauty with all of those windows. I thought it was the greatest thing because it was so futuristic. How was I to know that it was one of the biggest lemons in history? Morris’ wife was curiously missing and, being a kid, I had no qualms about asking the sons where their mom was. I think there was a tiny part of me that half expected that their dad and my mom could get together, being that they were both single at the time. I believe that Morris’ wife had died and that he was left in charge of the 3 very different boys.
What does this have to do with the neighbors? Well, in general, the neighbors were good Irish and French Catholics with a dabbling of Protestants left over from when everyone in Springfield was a Protestant. There were only three families that I was aware of that were Jewish. Josh’s family (18-see map below), whose family name I cannot recall, the Marks family (19), and the Nisenkiers (4). Josh and his family were the strange kind, the ones who wore the funny hats and wore black on Saturdays. The Nisenkiers were just like us except that they didn’t believe in Jesus, or at least they weren’t supposed to as self-proclaimed Jews. The Marks were somewhere in between.
I don’t really remember how I met Josh but I do remember that I thought all of his customs were out there. He wore the Yamulkah and he wasn’t supposed to walk more that 3 steps without it on his head (or something like that). He went to “church” on Saturdays so that made him a freak in my little mind. Everyone knew that Sunday was the day of rest but they didn’t seem to know this simple fact. I once helped the family build a small wooden “tent” in their driveway for use in one of their many holidays. I think I was a little confused that they didn’t invite me over even though I had helped them with their tent. However, I could be remembering that wrong. It’s quite possible that they DID invite me and I refused, thinking that celebrating at a Jewish event might send me to hell. It was a tenuous relationship I had with Josh and I don’t think we had much of one for very long. I don’t think it helped that the others guys in my neighborhood pretty much didn’t associate with him. One thing his family was good for was that I could always rely on Josh’s mother to hire me to shovel her sidewalk and driveway in the winter. She was soooo short, maybe 4 and a half feet, if that. They had some money and I was willing to take advantage of that. I knew that I could charge them a little more because of this fact. Plus, experience told me that she was, how shall I say this? Persnickety, picky, anal retentive. So, the higher cost was justified. I got about $10 which was a TON of money for me back then. The fact that she was picky helped reinforce the stereotype of the money-grubbing Jews in my mind. This is actually odd because you would think that the laid back Nisenkiers would UNreinforce the stereotype.
John was more friends with the Marks kids than I was probably because they were younger than me. There was David and his younger sister Allie. I remember thinking Allie was cute even though she was younger than me but I have always had an eye for the ladies, even when I was in kindergarten. I don’t remember too much about them except that David was erratic in his friendship with John and his family didn’t seem to approve of us. Funny thing, though. When I went to UMASS, I ended up meeting Allie again. She had no recollection of me but I think she remembered John. She was still cute but she definitely had some issues. Apparently, she had once tried to kill herself. In retrospect, that didn’t seem odd to me. The family seemed controlling to me even to my childhood brain. It was strange to meet someone “all grown up”.
The Nisenkiers of 51 Mountainview St, in case you hadn’t already figured this out, were an integral part of my growing up. The family members included the Morris the father and his three sons Chaim, Lavek, and Joe. We all got a great laugh out of the fact that the two older brothers had these strange names and then there was Joe. Morris used to drive a distributor truck and didn’t talk too much to us. When he did, it was difficult to understand him because he had a very thick accent. He also had boobs. I bring this up because this was also a great source of amusement to we kids. As I find myself beginning to get the seeds of boobies myself, I find this attribute of Morris’ not as funny today. A great thing about their house was where they kept the TV. I always thought it was cool that they had their television in the kitchen. What efficiency! They had a couple of cars but what stands out is the gem of the 70s. A red AMC Pacer. What a beauty with all of those windows. I thought it was the greatest thing because it was so futuristic. How was I to know that it was one of the biggest lemons in history? Morris’ wife was curiously missing and, being a kid, I had no qualms about asking the sons where their mom was. I think there was a tiny part of me that half expected that their dad and my mom could get together, being that they were both single at the time. I believe that Morris’ wife had died and that he was left in charge of the 3 very different boys.
Lavek was the oldest, I think, and he was often off in a world of his own. He had a maroon AMC Concord. As I mentioned, he may have been gay but you really couldn’t be sure because he always seemed have lots of girlfriends, good looking ones at that. He pretty much didn’t pay a lot of attention to us but I at least think he was amused by us at times.
Chiam was more my style because he liked to hang out and do nothing. I kind of wonder if he was a bad influence in that way but it would be silly of me to blame my laziness on him. Anyway, his favorite spot was the front steps of his porch. He would sit for hours watching the world go by and he frequently had an iced coffee in his hand. He was a man ahead of his time by drinking this drink but we did not know his greatness back then. Now, iced coffee is not only acceptable but en vogue. We would talk to him, John, Mike and I, for as long as he could stand us. I appreciated that he talked to us like normal people and not like we were kids. I think he got great joy out of teasing us. He reminds me now of a big teddy bear. His hair was unkempt and he usually had a cheesy mustache like a porn star. Come to think of it, you never saw him and Ron Jeremy together at the same time….I remember that he once had to have his jaw wired shut for what seemed like a very long time (probably longer to him) and we were amused that he had to sip his coffee through a straw. He wasn’t happy about his condition and I don’t blame him. I’m kind of sad that I cannot remember specifics about our conversations because we spent a LOT of time on his steps and he, no doubt, helped to shape my malleable noggin. I’d be very glad to run into him today because he seemed like a good man. He played basketball about as good as Joe, too and I would say that he was a bit less mischievous than his brother Joe.
Joe was my idol at the time. He had girlfriends. He played all sorts of sports and he was on actual teams. He seemed cool and confident in everything he did. I went and saw one of his games at Forest Park when he was pitching for Classical and I was in awe. My older brothers did not seem like him, being more reserved. Also, my older brothers Ken and Jerry just weren’t around much when I was young so there wasn’t really any chance for admiring them anyway. Joe and Chiam were like my surrogate big brothers and I can say with confidence that having them around only helped me in a good way. Now, I know I said that Joe liked to take slapshots at me and John but this was his form of teasing and not done to terrify us - surely it was done out of love. I felt that we performed a valuable function to Joe and, in fact, our goalie skills got pretty good and my basketball game was pretty good too for the midget that I was. I don’t think I was ever able to hit his fastball though. That thing would whiz by and hit the garage with a sharp “CRACK” before I could even start swinging. Same with the hockey puck or the tennis ball. The sound was nerve racking. Luckily the garage had enough give that the puck never bounced back and hit us in the head. Joe was basically Jerry and Mike’s friend. I can remember Jerry trying to take a basketball shot off of the Nisenker’s fire escape and toppling over the edge. I believe he cracked his head open on the sidewalk below. Well, at least he was bleeding but I don’t think he ended up at the hospital. You’d have to be dead in order for my mom to bring you to the hospital. Joe’s most important contribution to my life was making me 5 years old forever. When I was 5 he told me that they took October out of the calendar and had replaced it with Hoctober so I was never going to have another birthday again. I was quite razzled by this fact for a while but I finally insisted that October was still present and that he was full of shit (not necessarily in those words). Now I like to say that I’m still 5.
I can recall being in the Nisenkier’s attic where Joe and Jerry were playing Beatles music on various instruments. I can’t remember if they were any good but they at least were trying. The Beatles were still big in the early 70s even though they broke up in 1970 and not until high school did I even listen to anything else. I was perpetually teased for not liking AC/DC or Kiss or The Bee Gees or whatever was big when I was a kid (I don’t even know). Anyway, they listened to other things but mostly it was the Beatles. I do remember one specific thing that I used to do that amused my brothers and the Nisenkiers. I used to sing Joy To The World, fake microphone in hand, and do a little bouncing dance. I used to like to sing the “Jeremiah was a bullfrog” part and I’m not really certain that I even knew the whole song. Another one was Signs Signs (this may not actually be the name of the song) by Three Dog Night.
Besides sports, my brothers and the Nisenkiers got into other things. By this I am talking about trouble. Well, I am surmising that they did things they shouldn’t be doing like marijuana and drinking. I do know for sure that Joe and Jerry once tried to make wine from the grapes growing in the Nisenker’s back yard. I can still picture them squishing the grapes with their bare feet and the grape juice filled bottle with a balloon on top sitting in our cellar waiting to turn into sweet nectar. I believe Jerry told me that it wasn’t all that great but that it served its purpose.
Not all was painful. Sometimes we would play milder games. I can remember sitting on the Nisenkier’s screened-in front porch playing card games like Mille Bournes and Poker and the board games Life and Risk. Well, I should say the older guys played Risk. I think I only was allowed to play once.
The Nisenkiers all appear to still be living in and around Springfield as of May, 2000. Chiam is not listed in the telephone directory but I would not be surprised if he is STILL living with his dad.
Another neighbor I remember fondly was Max (1). I do not know his full name other than that Max stood for Maximillian. He lived on the corner of Mountainview St and Belmont Ave at 71 Mountainview St. My mom was always wary of him and I could not accept the fact that we weren’t supposed to go see him. In retrospect and with the cynical experiences of adulthood, I can understand her fear of a single man living alone in his own house. However, he was always good to me and even once gave me a copy of The Invisible Man to read. I remember going into his house to get the book and that was probably the only time I actually went in. I was a little hesitant, probably not because I was afraid of being raped by some guy but because my mom told me not to and I knew she’d kill me if she knew. Still, the front door was left open behind us and he just handed me a copy of the book. It had a yellow cover. I took it home and hid it in the garage. I never read it. Most of the time, I talked to Max as he walked his Bassett around the block or as he hung out on his front porch or stairs smoking his pipe. I think Max was a harmless old guy but then again I only have my experiences to go by. For all I know my mom had talked to some neighbors about him and found out some bad things. More likely my crazy mother was making things up in her head.
The family (2-I don’t remember their name) that lived next to Max at 61 Mountainview St was a large eclectic mix of orphans taken care of by a couple who had a few children of their own. The natural children were the jerks. The two brothers, anyway. They were always picking fights, fights I should say that I never got into. John and Mike, however, had their problems with the boys. Those kids were full of rage and John and Mike had their own share, as well. I do remember one of them threatening John near the back fence between our garages. John had jumped the fence and was poised to take off and Mike was threatening back. No fight occurred that I can remember and there was much bad blood between the children of the two families. I’m not really sure why there was all this rage but I imagine that the boys were hideously teased about their odd family. Our odd family? Well, I’ll get to that unpleasantness later.
Next to them lived the Tunstall family (3). I believe they were Irish. I never really knew much about them but they were nice enough. I can vaguely picture the mother as a smiling, somewhat overweight lady who always seemed to buy anything that I was peddling door-to-door. They had a large pool which Mike may have been in but I think I was too young at the time and Mike might just have invited himself along with the Nisenkiers. One unfortunate event sticks in my mind about this family and that was the death of their young daughter. I think her name was Mary. She got hit by a car and that was probably my first experience with death. Although I hadn’t ever had any real contact with her I at least knew her by sight. I was quite the sensitive kid back then and I remember wanting to tell them I was sorry, even contemplating going to their door to express my condolences. I do not remember if I actually did that but I think I may have. Donald Tunstall is listed as still living at 55 Mountainview St as of May, 2000.
The families on down the rest of the odd side of the street are a bit more vague to me for some reason.
The people next to us at 39 Mountainview St (6) had two teenage daughters and I can remember checking them out when they were sunbathing in their back yard. Once, I saw the older sister sleeping on her stomach with the back of her bikini top untied. I had the fortunate luck to catch her as she awoke and, without thinking, lifted up off the lawn chair. Ahhhh, lost youth. I was a horny little kid. I think Jerry at one time had tried to or had succeeded in putting the moves on the younger sister. That is about all I remember of them.
Next to the sisters was a family (7) who had a son that Jerry hung out with a little. I think the son was a druggy. They had a pool, another pool which I never seemed to get invited to go into. This was 33 Mountainview St.
I think the next house (8) was a total mystery to me as nothing comes to mind. It was probably the kind of house where salespeople are perpetually ignored and government representatives are shunned.
The next house, 21 Mountianview St (9), was residence to the Lazarri (prnounced Luh-zar-ee) family. A Felix Lazarri is listed as living there today. My mom was friends with the mother of the house for a while. I think the friendship eventually dissolved as the Lazarris realized my mother was nuts. I always confused their last name with that of my mother’s friend Lagasse (pronounced Luh-gas-ee) who lived in Indian Orchard. I have never been good with names. I think mom has periodically bothered them over the years since. She also refused to accept the fact that her Lagasse friend had died and chose, instead, to believe that her friend was just not calling back. I still don’t know what she thinks.
A little side note. I think that living in Indian Orchard where many a French Canadian settled, made my mom somehow forget her paternal Italian roots. She probably thought of herself as a “Frenchie” and tried her damndest to fit in. She even denied my Spanish lessons in high school and, instead, forced me to take French…the universal language.
The next house is a mystery (10) and the final house on the corner (24) was home to a veterinarian..
Other neighbors on Mountainview included the Shumways (26), still living on Mountainview, and the very large Adams family (25) on the west corner of Mountainview and Westernview. There was a teenage girl, Mary Shumway, whom my brothers and I lusted after. She had a bad ass look to her though and I don’t think anyone went near her. The Adams family had a few good looking daughters too and I’m sure that Jerry or Mike tried something. I remember one in particular, Molly, had big, er, boobs; this was about the only thing I knew about her except that she was nice. Occasionally we would see them in church.
On the opposite corner was a local celebrity of sorts. An elderly couple (22, whose house I mentioned was in danger of being smashed by a homerun) lived there. The man, Vern Cole, was a painter of some local renown and he was famous for his paintings which were prominently displayed in the Friendly’s ice cream chain stores. He died at some point when I was living on Mountainview. On a recent visit to the old street I noted that a beer-guzzling type was watching the world go by on the front porch. Times haves definitely changed.
Next to the celebrity was an old lady named White (23). I think she was at least very nice although I think she always dissed me when it came to buying my wares. She was the kind of person who would take up your very valuable time looking though all stuff and then declare that she was not going to buy anything today but maybe next time. Yeh, right.
Chiam was more my style because he liked to hang out and do nothing. I kind of wonder if he was a bad influence in that way but it would be silly of me to blame my laziness on him. Anyway, his favorite spot was the front steps of his porch. He would sit for hours watching the world go by and he frequently had an iced coffee in his hand. He was a man ahead of his time by drinking this drink but we did not know his greatness back then. Now, iced coffee is not only acceptable but en vogue. We would talk to him, John, Mike and I, for as long as he could stand us. I appreciated that he talked to us like normal people and not like we were kids. I think he got great joy out of teasing us. He reminds me now of a big teddy bear. His hair was unkempt and he usually had a cheesy mustache like a porn star. Come to think of it, you never saw him and Ron Jeremy together at the same time….I remember that he once had to have his jaw wired shut for what seemed like a very long time (probably longer to him) and we were amused that he had to sip his coffee through a straw. He wasn’t happy about his condition and I don’t blame him. I’m kind of sad that I cannot remember specifics about our conversations because we spent a LOT of time on his steps and he, no doubt, helped to shape my malleable noggin. I’d be very glad to run into him today because he seemed like a good man. He played basketball about as good as Joe, too and I would say that he was a bit less mischievous than his brother Joe.
Joe was my idol at the time. He had girlfriends. He played all sorts of sports and he was on actual teams. He seemed cool and confident in everything he did. I went and saw one of his games at Forest Park when he was pitching for Classical and I was in awe. My older brothers did not seem like him, being more reserved. Also, my older brothers Ken and Jerry just weren’t around much when I was young so there wasn’t really any chance for admiring them anyway. Joe and Chiam were like my surrogate big brothers and I can say with confidence that having them around only helped me in a good way. Now, I know I said that Joe liked to take slapshots at me and John but this was his form of teasing and not done to terrify us - surely it was done out of love. I felt that we performed a valuable function to Joe and, in fact, our goalie skills got pretty good and my basketball game was pretty good too for the midget that I was. I don’t think I was ever able to hit his fastball though. That thing would whiz by and hit the garage with a sharp “CRACK” before I could even start swinging. Same with the hockey puck or the tennis ball. The sound was nerve racking. Luckily the garage had enough give that the puck never bounced back and hit us in the head. Joe was basically Jerry and Mike’s friend. I can remember Jerry trying to take a basketball shot off of the Nisenker’s fire escape and toppling over the edge. I believe he cracked his head open on the sidewalk below. Well, at least he was bleeding but I don’t think he ended up at the hospital. You’d have to be dead in order for my mom to bring you to the hospital. Joe’s most important contribution to my life was making me 5 years old forever. When I was 5 he told me that they took October out of the calendar and had replaced it with Hoctober so I was never going to have another birthday again. I was quite razzled by this fact for a while but I finally insisted that October was still present and that he was full of shit (not necessarily in those words). Now I like to say that I’m still 5.
I can recall being in the Nisenkier’s attic where Joe and Jerry were playing Beatles music on various instruments. I can’t remember if they were any good but they at least were trying. The Beatles were still big in the early 70s even though they broke up in 1970 and not until high school did I even listen to anything else. I was perpetually teased for not liking AC/DC or Kiss or The Bee Gees or whatever was big when I was a kid (I don’t even know). Anyway, they listened to other things but mostly it was the Beatles. I do remember one specific thing that I used to do that amused my brothers and the Nisenkiers. I used to sing Joy To The World, fake microphone in hand, and do a little bouncing dance. I used to like to sing the “Jeremiah was a bullfrog” part and I’m not really certain that I even knew the whole song. Another one was Signs Signs (this may not actually be the name of the song) by Three Dog Night.
Besides sports, my brothers and the Nisenkiers got into other things. By this I am talking about trouble. Well, I am surmising that they did things they shouldn’t be doing like marijuana and drinking. I do know for sure that Joe and Jerry once tried to make wine from the grapes growing in the Nisenker’s back yard. I can still picture them squishing the grapes with their bare feet and the grape juice filled bottle with a balloon on top sitting in our cellar waiting to turn into sweet nectar. I believe Jerry told me that it wasn’t all that great but that it served its purpose.
Not all was painful. Sometimes we would play milder games. I can remember sitting on the Nisenkier’s screened-in front porch playing card games like Mille Bournes and Poker and the board games Life and Risk. Well, I should say the older guys played Risk. I think I only was allowed to play once.
The Nisenkiers all appear to still be living in and around Springfield as of May, 2000. Chiam is not listed in the telephone directory but I would not be surprised if he is STILL living with his dad.
Another neighbor I remember fondly was Max (1). I do not know his full name other than that Max stood for Maximillian. He lived on the corner of Mountainview St and Belmont Ave at 71 Mountainview St. My mom was always wary of him and I could not accept the fact that we weren’t supposed to go see him. In retrospect and with the cynical experiences of adulthood, I can understand her fear of a single man living alone in his own house. However, he was always good to me and even once gave me a copy of The Invisible Man to read. I remember going into his house to get the book and that was probably the only time I actually went in. I was a little hesitant, probably not because I was afraid of being raped by some guy but because my mom told me not to and I knew she’d kill me if she knew. Still, the front door was left open behind us and he just handed me a copy of the book. It had a yellow cover. I took it home and hid it in the garage. I never read it. Most of the time, I talked to Max as he walked his Bassett around the block or as he hung out on his front porch or stairs smoking his pipe. I think Max was a harmless old guy but then again I only have my experiences to go by. For all I know my mom had talked to some neighbors about him and found out some bad things. More likely my crazy mother was making things up in her head.
The family (2-I don’t remember their name) that lived next to Max at 61 Mountainview St was a large eclectic mix of orphans taken care of by a couple who had a few children of their own. The natural children were the jerks. The two brothers, anyway. They were always picking fights, fights I should say that I never got into. John and Mike, however, had their problems with the boys. Those kids were full of rage and John and Mike had their own share, as well. I do remember one of them threatening John near the back fence between our garages. John had jumped the fence and was poised to take off and Mike was threatening back. No fight occurred that I can remember and there was much bad blood between the children of the two families. I’m not really sure why there was all this rage but I imagine that the boys were hideously teased about their odd family. Our odd family? Well, I’ll get to that unpleasantness later.
Next to them lived the Tunstall family (3). I believe they were Irish. I never really knew much about them but they were nice enough. I can vaguely picture the mother as a smiling, somewhat overweight lady who always seemed to buy anything that I was peddling door-to-door. They had a large pool which Mike may have been in but I think I was too young at the time and Mike might just have invited himself along with the Nisenkiers. One unfortunate event sticks in my mind about this family and that was the death of their young daughter. I think her name was Mary. She got hit by a car and that was probably my first experience with death. Although I hadn’t ever had any real contact with her I at least knew her by sight. I was quite the sensitive kid back then and I remember wanting to tell them I was sorry, even contemplating going to their door to express my condolences. I do not remember if I actually did that but I think I may have. Donald Tunstall is listed as still living at 55 Mountainview St as of May, 2000.
The families on down the rest of the odd side of the street are a bit more vague to me for some reason.
The people next to us at 39 Mountainview St (6) had two teenage daughters and I can remember checking them out when they were sunbathing in their back yard. Once, I saw the older sister sleeping on her stomach with the back of her bikini top untied. I had the fortunate luck to catch her as she awoke and, without thinking, lifted up off the lawn chair. Ahhhh, lost youth. I was a horny little kid. I think Jerry at one time had tried to or had succeeded in putting the moves on the younger sister. That is about all I remember of them.
Next to the sisters was a family (7) who had a son that Jerry hung out with a little. I think the son was a druggy. They had a pool, another pool which I never seemed to get invited to go into. This was 33 Mountainview St.
I think the next house (8) was a total mystery to me as nothing comes to mind. It was probably the kind of house where salespeople are perpetually ignored and government representatives are shunned.
The next house, 21 Mountianview St (9), was residence to the Lazarri (prnounced Luh-zar-ee) family. A Felix Lazarri is listed as living there today. My mom was friends with the mother of the house for a while. I think the friendship eventually dissolved as the Lazarris realized my mother was nuts. I always confused their last name with that of my mother’s friend Lagasse (pronounced Luh-gas-ee) who lived in Indian Orchard. I have never been good with names. I think mom has periodically bothered them over the years since. She also refused to accept the fact that her Lagasse friend had died and chose, instead, to believe that her friend was just not calling back. I still don’t know what she thinks.
A little side note. I think that living in Indian Orchard where many a French Canadian settled, made my mom somehow forget her paternal Italian roots. She probably thought of herself as a “Frenchie” and tried her damndest to fit in. She even denied my Spanish lessons in high school and, instead, forced me to take French…the universal language.
The next house is a mystery (10) and the final house on the corner (24) was home to a veterinarian..
Other neighbors on Mountainview included the Shumways (26), still living on Mountainview, and the very large Adams family (25) on the west corner of Mountainview and Westernview. There was a teenage girl, Mary Shumway, whom my brothers and I lusted after. She had a bad ass look to her though and I don’t think anyone went near her. The Adams family had a few good looking daughters too and I’m sure that Jerry or Mike tried something. I remember one in particular, Molly, had big, er, boobs; this was about the only thing I knew about her except that she was nice. Occasionally we would see them in church.
On the opposite corner was a local celebrity of sorts. An elderly couple (22, whose house I mentioned was in danger of being smashed by a homerun) lived there. The man, Vern Cole, was a painter of some local renown and he was famous for his paintings which were prominently displayed in the Friendly’s ice cream chain stores. He died at some point when I was living on Mountainview. On a recent visit to the old street I noted that a beer-guzzling type was watching the world go by on the front porch. Times haves definitely changed.
Next to the celebrity was an old lady named White (23). I think she was at least very nice although I think she always dissed me when it came to buying my wares. She was the kind of person who would take up your very valuable time looking though all stuff and then declare that she was not going to buy anything today but maybe next time. Yeh, right.
Vern Cole lived in the red house and Mrs. White in the yellow one. Vern's was always in danger of being hit by a line drive from our baseball games in the driveway. My house was the one on the right, the Nisenkier's was next. I spent many an afternoon on those front steps with Chiam. The Tunstalls lived in the blue house. It seems the only one that's changed colors over the years was my old house. The rest are the same.
Westernview Street was a bit more mysterious to me. I guess that’s not surprising because as a child I had limited boundaries at first so I tended to learn the Mountainview group first. Still the Trangheses (21) and Payne kids (20) were friends with we Poulins. My brother Mike tended to hang with Johnny Tranghese and occasionally with the older Mike and Steven Payne. I was friends with Joey Tranghese. His oldest brother was Albert and I believe his sister was Patti. I vaguely remember her getting married off. The father had a construction business and I remember once when he drove up in front of his house in a new Cadillac and I was tickled. He explained that they got a new car every couple of years and I was amazed at the wealth. You see, we never had a brand new car that I could remember. I don’t think my dad has EVER had a new car. The family had a pool which I actually did get invited to go in. However, I developed an early fear of the water and probably didn’t take advantage of it as much as I could have. I cannot even picture their mother but I do have a foggy image of the aunt still floating in my head. Amazing what you can and can’t remember. The house was nicely decorated.
Joey Tranghese and I had an odd friendship. It seemed to me that as he got older he drifted and tended to want to hang with kids his own age. You see, I was a year younger and that made all the difference in those days. It was to him that I traded my coins to for the tinker toys. As I said, that was a good deal to me. However, there was one time when we had started a club with David Parmentier where we collected some money with the intent to buy a pizza. Unfortunately, they told me once that they had taken the money and had bought and eaten the pizza already and refused to give me any of my money back. At times he could be a jerk. Interestingly, David was my friend from school first but the friendship shifted and Joey and David began hanging out together without me. Who knows what happened but I wasn’t exactly cool in those days (I am now??) and I suppose I cramped their style. I remember going over to David’s for a birthday party once (before my rejection) and the place was full of kids. One, in particular, had my attention. her name was Cathy something or other and, as usual, the girl had a thing for my friend instead of me. Crushing. They apparently dated and, for all I know, they had thousands of babies. Anyway, all was not always friction between Joey and me. We had fun and went to Forest Park a lot to catch frogs or build forts or just hike around. In fact, I remember this one time where Joey, David, and I were looking for frogs in the ponds and we were walking amid some 1-2 foot grass when I had a slight itch at my left leg. I casually swatted at it. However, I soon realized that there was a yellowjacket stinging my leg and we all took off running as we realized the swarm was gathering (all right, maybe just a few but swarm sounds better). When we were out of “range” of the bees, we stopped and both of them showed me some compassion, going so far as to spread some mud on the wound to cool it down. This was, no doubt, an old indian trick known by my pure blood buddies. I think the fact that I can only remember a couple of specific stories about my friend Joey suggests just how dull and repetitive my childhood was. I met Joey later in life when I was about 17 in front of the Cumberland Farms where I later ended up working. It was a very civil meeting but not much of importance was said.
Pretty much there were no girls playing these games but I do remember that there was a trio of hotties who lived across from the Trangheses who sometimes watched. I remember once watching them play frisbee in their bikinis with the Trangheses from my house. You see, I could look down the length of Westernview from the front of my house. Heck, the only thing preventing me from getting a closer look was the fact that I was probably about 9 years old and my mom decided that I should be at home for whatever reason. I think one of them was named Melanie. Mike, John and I had a habit of saying “El, el, el” about a good looking girl. Don’t ask me where that came from. It’s just what we said and this ridiculous phrase was often used when the conversation turned to Melanie or the big-boobed Adams girl. Girls back then were just objects. I must say that I have learned a better philosophy about women but it has been a long and arduous journey unlearning the bad habits of my youth.
One girl I had a small crush on was Barbara Sutphin (17). She had an older sister whom I think Mike was lusting for but Barbara was more in my age bracket being only about a year younger than me. The trouble was, though, that I had no good reason to be near her. In fact, I was jealous of John because he at least had access because he was friends with Buddy Sutphin, the younger brother. I only had one opportunity to be anywhere near her and that was for one game of tag at her house. Unfortunately, I merely took the opportunity to cop a clandestine cheap feel in the guise of an overzealous tag. What a loser. We soon after moved to the new place on Rittenhouse Terrace and there went any further chance of seeing this girl.
Next to the Sutphins lived Tony and Louie something-Greek-opolous (16). They were good kids that John and I were friends with. I remember being invited over to watch a film. Yes, a film with actual film reels. Amazingly, my mother was in a lucid frame of mind and she said that it was OK. We watched a film on the fastest cars in the world, including the Green Machine, the Blue Flame, and the Spirit of America. I actually got to see the Spirit of America in Chicago’s Museum of Science and Technology and I was THRILLED. Never mind that I was in my mid twenties at the time. It was still very cool.
On Forest Street, the street parallel to Mountainview, most of the people were unknown to me. One house which was in back of and one house over to mine was the Belbin’s place (11). The only reason I knew them was because the Belbin kid’s mother would always yell out, “Timothy and Kevin, get over here”, at the top of her lungs and in a very irritated tone. It was her signature call, kind of like a male moose calling for his honey.
I had one friend from that street. His name was Billy Gould (12). He lived near the Getty Gas Station (14) and the Lil Peach (13). He moved away some time when I was about 11 or so. I can recall one time when we rifled through a big stack of old newspapers at his house, looking for the Jumbles and the kiddy crossword puzzles. I also remember his family having a carnival of sorts in their back yard to support muscular dystrophy. But what sticks out in my mind about Billy was the time we were climbing up the telephone pole to get onto my garage roof and I was behind him and his butt smelled. He pointed out that he didn’t wipe his ass. Who knows if he was kidding or not but we certainly gave him shit (no pun intended) for that for as long as he was around.
John found a friend on Forest St. named Walter Harriman (27, I think) whose father raced/crashed cars for a hobby and who seemed like a mean bastard. Walter was a trip and was always giggling at one of his own corny jokes and generally seemed like a happy guy. He cracked me up and his grin was ear to ear. Once, when we were into making model rockets, I constructed a small one out of a cardboard tampon tube (Hey, they were perfect for the job. In retrospect, it was probably a used one of my mom’s and now I shudder to think about it. Ignorance truly is bliss). He was terribly amused by this. He used his catch phrase, “You think it’ll fly?” He was always asking that question even about plastic model airplanes and he got great joy out of our obvious flusterment (not a word, I know). Anyway, we lit the rocket, not thinking it would go, and it took off roaring into the sky. Well, really it didn’t get past the eve of the house because we stupidly launched it about 4 feet away from the house. Walter actually ended up working in the same place as John later in life and he ended up going to John’s wedding to Christie. Another case of seeing someone all grown up. I wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a line-up and it was odd to see him as an ungiggling adult. Kind of sad, actually but maybe he was just shy.
These were my neighbors. You see that I was involved with all those around me and that the neighborhood shaped me for better or for worse. Interestingly, I have not had a connection to my neighbors anywhere else I have lived. I do not know if it is because I was a kid that my involvement was greater or whether I lived in a particularly neighborly area or what but it seems to me that people’ lives have moved indoors.
Joey Tranghese and I had an odd friendship. It seemed to me that as he got older he drifted and tended to want to hang with kids his own age. You see, I was a year younger and that made all the difference in those days. It was to him that I traded my coins to for the tinker toys. As I said, that was a good deal to me. However, there was one time when we had started a club with David Parmentier where we collected some money with the intent to buy a pizza. Unfortunately, they told me once that they had taken the money and had bought and eaten the pizza already and refused to give me any of my money back. At times he could be a jerk. Interestingly, David was my friend from school first but the friendship shifted and Joey and David began hanging out together without me. Who knows what happened but I wasn’t exactly cool in those days (I am now??) and I suppose I cramped their style. I remember going over to David’s for a birthday party once (before my rejection) and the place was full of kids. One, in particular, had my attention. her name was Cathy something or other and, as usual, the girl had a thing for my friend instead of me. Crushing. They apparently dated and, for all I know, they had thousands of babies. Anyway, all was not always friction between Joey and me. We had fun and went to Forest Park a lot to catch frogs or build forts or just hike around. In fact, I remember this one time where Joey, David, and I were looking for frogs in the ponds and we were walking amid some 1-2 foot grass when I had a slight itch at my left leg. I casually swatted at it. However, I soon realized that there was a yellowjacket stinging my leg and we all took off running as we realized the swarm was gathering (all right, maybe just a few but swarm sounds better). When we were out of “range” of the bees, we stopped and both of them showed me some compassion, going so far as to spread some mud on the wound to cool it down. This was, no doubt, an old indian trick known by my pure blood buddies. I think the fact that I can only remember a couple of specific stories about my friend Joey suggests just how dull and repetitive my childhood was. I met Joey later in life when I was about 17 in front of the Cumberland Farms where I later ended up working. It was a very civil meeting but not much of importance was said.
Pretty much there were no girls playing these games but I do remember that there was a trio of hotties who lived across from the Trangheses who sometimes watched. I remember once watching them play frisbee in their bikinis with the Trangheses from my house. You see, I could look down the length of Westernview from the front of my house. Heck, the only thing preventing me from getting a closer look was the fact that I was probably about 9 years old and my mom decided that I should be at home for whatever reason. I think one of them was named Melanie. Mike, John and I had a habit of saying “El, el, el” about a good looking girl. Don’t ask me where that came from. It’s just what we said and this ridiculous phrase was often used when the conversation turned to Melanie or the big-boobed Adams girl. Girls back then were just objects. I must say that I have learned a better philosophy about women but it has been a long and arduous journey unlearning the bad habits of my youth.
One girl I had a small crush on was Barbara Sutphin (17). She had an older sister whom I think Mike was lusting for but Barbara was more in my age bracket being only about a year younger than me. The trouble was, though, that I had no good reason to be near her. In fact, I was jealous of John because he at least had access because he was friends with Buddy Sutphin, the younger brother. I only had one opportunity to be anywhere near her and that was for one game of tag at her house. Unfortunately, I merely took the opportunity to cop a clandestine cheap feel in the guise of an overzealous tag. What a loser. We soon after moved to the new place on Rittenhouse Terrace and there went any further chance of seeing this girl.
Next to the Sutphins lived Tony and Louie something-Greek-opolous (16). They were good kids that John and I were friends with. I remember being invited over to watch a film. Yes, a film with actual film reels. Amazingly, my mother was in a lucid frame of mind and she said that it was OK. We watched a film on the fastest cars in the world, including the Green Machine, the Blue Flame, and the Spirit of America. I actually got to see the Spirit of America in Chicago’s Museum of Science and Technology and I was THRILLED. Never mind that I was in my mid twenties at the time. It was still very cool.
On Forest Street, the street parallel to Mountainview, most of the people were unknown to me. One house which was in back of and one house over to mine was the Belbin’s place (11). The only reason I knew them was because the Belbin kid’s mother would always yell out, “Timothy and Kevin, get over here”, at the top of her lungs and in a very irritated tone. It was her signature call, kind of like a male moose calling for his honey.
I had one friend from that street. His name was Billy Gould (12). He lived near the Getty Gas Station (14) and the Lil Peach (13). He moved away some time when I was about 11 or so. I can recall one time when we rifled through a big stack of old newspapers at his house, looking for the Jumbles and the kiddy crossword puzzles. I also remember his family having a carnival of sorts in their back yard to support muscular dystrophy. But what sticks out in my mind about Billy was the time we were climbing up the telephone pole to get onto my garage roof and I was behind him and his butt smelled. He pointed out that he didn’t wipe his ass. Who knows if he was kidding or not but we certainly gave him shit (no pun intended) for that for as long as he was around.
John found a friend on Forest St. named Walter Harriman (27, I think) whose father raced/crashed cars for a hobby and who seemed like a mean bastard. Walter was a trip and was always giggling at one of his own corny jokes and generally seemed like a happy guy. He cracked me up and his grin was ear to ear. Once, when we were into making model rockets, I constructed a small one out of a cardboard tampon tube (Hey, they were perfect for the job. In retrospect, it was probably a used one of my mom’s and now I shudder to think about it. Ignorance truly is bliss). He was terribly amused by this. He used his catch phrase, “You think it’ll fly?” He was always asking that question even about plastic model airplanes and he got great joy out of our obvious flusterment (not a word, I know). Anyway, we lit the rocket, not thinking it would go, and it took off roaring into the sky. Well, really it didn’t get past the eve of the house because we stupidly launched it about 4 feet away from the house. Walter actually ended up working in the same place as John later in life and he ended up going to John’s wedding to Christie. Another case of seeing someone all grown up. I wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a line-up and it was odd to see him as an ungiggling adult. Kind of sad, actually but maybe he was just shy.
These were my neighbors. You see that I was involved with all those around me and that the neighborhood shaped me for better or for worse. Interestingly, I have not had a connection to my neighbors anywhere else I have lived. I do not know if it is because I was a kid that my involvement was greater or whether I lived in a particularly neighborly area or what but it seems to me that people’ lives have moved indoors.