Looking back. Summer in the 1950's.

Summer in the 1950’s.

You had three Holidays:

Memorial Day; taken very seriously, since almost every adult male- served in WW II. Little League Baseball started, swimming pools all opened, and every family had picnics.
Hot Dogs, Burgers (always on a charcoal grill of some sort), potato salad, egg salad, coleslaw, chips and Soda Pop rounded out the menu. Oh, and beer. But that was for the adults, with their pickles and sardines. And peanuts. The kind you had to shell.

July 4th, same schedule with the exception of Fireworks. Downtown to the Lake to see the marvelous displays of explosive rainbows, loud noises, and smoke lazily meandering by.

Labor Day, the close of summer. Same schedule, same menu, same games. Except now, everything a kid loved was closing: Swimming Pools, Summer Leagues in both Baseball and Softball, and of course, School started up. That dreaded indoor waste of good days. Sigh

Those were the Holidays. But nobody went on Holiday. Oh sure, some families would drive to Pennsylvania, or New York to visit Relatives, some even went as far as Vermont or New Hampshire! But those trips were rare…and only for one week or so. And…you stayed with relatives. If you were rich, you might stay at a Howard Johnson’s along the way…or a motel with a catchy name like: Motel.

For us kids, someone going out of state, or to a distant city in our own State, meant our starting Short Stop was gone for a game…or two. And we did have to do the mandatory ten days at a Summer Camp. But that was more for the Parents than the kids. I only went twice: to Camp Hope. But that is its own “Looking Back” episode. So let’s stick with Summer.

Baseball was, by far, the most popular thing to do for any boy between Eight and Thirteen. After thirteen, most boys discovered girls…yech. But there were still plenty of of Leagues for Teens, young Adults, and all the Industrial “Fast pitch” and Slow Pitch Softball Teams, and the League Ball Teams, with the same rules, balls, bats and gloves that the Major League guys used. But we were kids…so it was fast pitch little League ball.

Some of the kids were on as many as three Official Teams. City League, AAU, and CYO were the big draws. But heck, Fisher Foods Parking lot was the home of many a fine game…and that League was just us neighborhood kids. Yes, there were enough kids on a single street to Field two entire eleven man (err…boys)teams. With some poor stragglers having to wait to see if anyone got hurt, or had to go home, before they could play.

Kids travelled in packs back then. At the baseball Diamonds, they formed giant pods of kids. So here is how it went on your way to the Brookside diamonds next to the Zoo. It was a mile or so walk from our house. Mom might give you a quarter for the Bus. But you saved that for candy and pop on the way home after the game. So we just usually slung our glove over the handle of the bat, and like a tiny Hobo, headed out to play.

First to join were your Best Friends. For kids in 3d Grade to Sixth grade, that was usually three to five buddies. In my case, I can name them all from Memory. Roddy, Mike, Billy, Nick, and me. Then you would join up with another small group of three to five, until you had all eleven members of your team. And then the trek began. Up West 30th to Towbridge avenue, or Myers Avenue…either worked. Just depended on how long you wanted to stay off of busy West 25th Street.

Then you headed up West 25th street…strung out in long streams of Eight to Twelve year olds, as all the kids converged near the Jones Home (an orphanage …and someplace none of us ever wanted to be).
Then it was across the giant bridge with the Zoo below. I hated that bridge. I have a real fear of heights, and that stone railing was way too low for my taste. I always walked on the side nearest traffic. My buddies formed a wall near the wall so I couldn’t see over the side.

Everyone was taller than me…so that worked in my favor. Sometimes a car would beep as it went by as someone recognized a son, or younger brother in the strung out parade of hundreds of kids headed to the ball fields. After the games, many of us headed over to the Zoo. If you had an elephant key, well you got in free. And you could use the key in the little speaker boxes to find out all about the animals you were looking at.

Monkeys, apes, and Lions were the stars for us at that age. Although the Elephants and Giraffes weren’t far behind. But I digress.

The biggest pool on the West Side: Brookside Swimming pool. Was right next to the little league Fields…so when games were over, hordes of ten and twelve year olds headed there to cool off. Me, more often than anyone else. I loved to swim. Many times I ended up walking home alone because my buddies didn’t want to swim. I did.

Still you had hours left in the day after a game. And Baseball wasn’t every day. So that left you with games of your own devices. The two most favorite games were: Cowboys and Indians. Followed closely by World War II Battles against the Nazi’s. I don’t know why, but for most of us kids, our pretend battles (and they were epic and heroic furious fights too) were always against the Germans. Never the Japanese. I don’t know why that was…we knew about both Theaters of the War, but almost all the shows except for Victory at Sea, took place in Europe.

Oh, and that brings up TV. And Newspapers too. Just because School was out, didn't mean we stopped reading. Oh no. The Libraries were everywhere in Cleveland. Ours was literally a block away! So you went and got your Hardy Boys, Tom Swift, or the girls got their “Nancy Drew” books for afternoon reading with a nice cold glass of Kool Aide! Grape being the overwhelming first choice. But any flavor would do if you put enough sugar in to cause diabetes.

At home you had Boy’s life, National Geographic, LIFE, LOOK, and the Saturday Evening Post. Even as a kid, with no background in Art, you thought those covers by Norman Rockwell were beautiful. Of course, every house had at least one Newspaper delivered to the door. We had both. The Cleveland Plain Dealer, in the morning. And the Cleveland Press in the Evening.

And the great reward of having a newspaper delivered to your door was the Sunday Funnies…in Color! Newspapers were in Sections…so the Sports and Comics were their own separate parts of the paper. That meant you could ask the Adults for either Sports or Comics, and they would just pull that section out for you, with a stern warning to give them back when you were done…without wrinkles.

Saturday Morning was for cartoons. TV, in the Summer, was basically non existent for us kids. After supper (everyone I knew growing up ate between five and six PM) we back outside. Everyone knew the rule: “Be home when the street lights come on.” Even then, sometimes we had to echo some poor kids name down the street as his Mom stood on the porch and yelled out:

“Timmy, Francis, Janie …come home now!”

NOTE: Very few families had less than three kids in my day. We had ten, which wasn’t unusual. Not having any kids, or being an only child…well that was weird.

Sometimes Mom’s would have to yell a couple more times before said miscreant would react and slouch back home. And every kid could recognize when a Mom had reached her limit. That tone brooked no argument…and it usually came out like this in a bellow:

“Timothy Stephen O’hara …you come home this instant.”

Once a Mom or Dad used your entire formal name…you ran home.

Bedtime was usually 8 PM. Your only snack was a glass of milk. If you screwed up somehow and got sent to bed without supper…that was a real punishment. By breakfast it was forgotten. Kids move on fast.

On days with no games, and you were down to just you and your best buddy (or buddies)…then it was off to walk Downtown. Or maybe down to the River, or even the Lake. Miles from your little side street and home. No supervision. No one watching. It was a different time.

You slept out in your backyard with just a blanket pulled over a clothes line…and every yard had a clothes line. You had a stern stove to cook your soup supper on. And enough crackers to assure that the ants would have a feast the following morning. You had a flashlight or lantern, and you told Ghost stories so vivid that you tossed and turned all night.

And at the end of each glorious summer day, your Mom or Dad might ask you what you did that day. The answer was always the same:

“Nothing.”