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Hank Brandli grew up in Roslindale, MA and now lives in Melbourne, Fla. He will be sharing his memories of his hometown with Transcript readers over the next couple of months. He can be reached at Hank@HankBrandli.com

June 6, 2002

School’s out in Rozzie


In  Rozzie during the 40's, when "school's out" was shrieked by the sweaty little kids as they ran helter-skelter down the cement steps of the Mozart, Conley and Phineas Bates schools, our summer “vacation” began,  at least for the kids.

 

One of the first refreshing happenings that occurred for the boys was the "whiffle”. This of course was the summer haircut. It almost resembled an "induction into the military" cut.  It was cheap, easy and lasted all summer long, until it was time to return to school when it looked normal again. 

 

Naturally, we had to endure the mean name calling from the girls, like: "skinhead", "baldy", and "scalped". But, it was all worth it, because it was “cool” (in the true sense) and we knew we did not have to bother with haircuts for the whole summer. However, now that I look back, I guess we did feel a little "sheepish" for a few days after our head shaving. 

 

Even the neighborhood dogs got their annual trim.  My aunt Mil had a large black mongrel named "Champ" and come June, he too would be "groomed" except for the puff of hair at the end of his tail. Actually, “Champ” was more embarrassed with his shaved look than the young boys were, I think. The “poor” dog would cower and hide, with his tail between his legs, and take cover behind any object that would shield him from public view.

 

We, on the other hand, did not suffer, because we had the "cover" of numbers. Most of the boys fought briefly against the trip to "Tony the Barber", but, common sense regarding the aftermath prevailed. Anyway, nearly everyone got a “whiffle”.

 

Tony is gone now, but not forgotten.  His shop was two doors down from the Pleasant Cafe on Washington Street. I still remember him methodically preparing for his late springtime influx of kids, while drinking his expresso. In those days, most of the men congregated in the back of the barber shop to read the newspapers, the Inquirer and lots of detective magazines (probably a lot of "smut" too).  He also offered some interesting "pinups" on the wall, (which of course did not go unnoticed by the boys in the barber chair).

 

The off-limit pinball machines "pinging away" would take our minds away from the fact we were getting scalped. It was all a very fascinating place to a kid.  Guess it was all rather tame, but it sure held our interest, and gave us a lot of ideas to ponder in our youthful minds.

 

Our families did things together during those summers of long ago, especially on weekends (which consisted mostly of one day, Sunday). Those days consisted of six-day work weeks.

 

After early church services, a family could board the MTA to whisk off to exotic places such as: Revere Beach, Norumbega, or Paragon Park. The more adventuresome families might take a cruise to Nantasket Beach via a Rowe's Wharf ferry. 

 

 

My father and my uncle Charlie would often take me on these cruises. They drank beer out of paper cups on the boat and at the park. My mom and aunt stayed home due to seasickness problems.

 

My dad, who worked long and hard  as a painter and  a wallpaper hanger once in a great while would take a day off and take me ( sans car) to a  Boston Braves baseball game, or to the rodeo at Boston Garden to see Gene Autry or Roy Rogers. Once, he took me to see Ted Williams demonstrating his fly-fishing prowess at the sportsman show in Mechanics Hall on Huntington Ave. At that same show, my dad pointed out a young muscular dirty blond haired man sitting on a stool. My father said he was a New York Yankee seventeen year old rookie and to go get his autograph. Sheepishly, I went over and shook his hand which was attached to the biggest and most muscular forearm, I’d ever seen.

 

“You wanna autograph, kid?” he mumbled. 

 

“Yes sir,” I said.

 

He took a small piece of paper and wrote on it with his enormous left hand holding a dwarfed yellow number two pencil, ”Mickey Mantle”..

My favorite/son recollection with my dad was kite flying at the water tower, the highest point around. My grandfather  was our weather forecaster and when he predicted nice weather with west winds, the kite project began.

 

We bought window sash wood strips from the Center hardware on Washington St. Every thing else, we had. Dad cut the Boston Post newspaper to size. Homemade white paste was used to hold string supports to paper. String struts bowed the sticks in place. Three balls of string wound on a three foot cut-off broom handle was tethered to the kite. Cut rags were tied together for the long stabilizer tail.

 

Off we went up Washington St. to the sloped tar path leading to the huge stone water tower .In the large green field east of the container full of water from the Quabbin Reservoir, I ran with the kite over my head till it was airborne. I can still see the bowed paper beauty flying majestically back and forth over the suburbs of Boston as we exchanged turns handling the homemade aero marvel and walking back and forth on the MDC towers grassy knoll.

 

What lovely places were available to us then, especially kids from the Roslindale area.  At Nantasket, we swam, ate our egg salad sandwiches with pickles, and drank “Coke” in 8 oz bottles. Then we ran across the street to have cotton candy, taffy apples and kisses at Joseph’s emporium.  After our fill, we got to do all the amusement rides, like the "Whip" the "Red Mill", the Caterpillar, the "Lindy Loop", the roller coaster, the bumper cars and usually ended up in the "Fun House.".

 

 

My favorite place in the park was the "Fun House". For 12 cents, you could stay forever! Inside the large building across from the roller coaster entrance, were three story wooden slides that you rode with furnished burlap bags.  We would climb up ladders then quickly ride down the chutes to the unavoidable collisions in a large wooden funnel at the bottom. 

 

 It all lasted until we got home and you felt the "sting" of the torn skin left on the wooden slide surfaces. What fun this un-orchestrated pandemonium was; hardly like the mob scene and costly endeavor of "Disneyworld" I exposed my kids to.

 

Inevitably, my sister and I would get wicked sunburns. Those Nantasket nights were spent with the dabbing of calamine lotion on areas of our bodies. Then, the blistering stopped and the peeling began. I’m reminded of this shared back peeling skin ritual every time I see primates on TV grooming themselves.

 

For two weeks during my eighth summer, my best buddy Chuck and I, went to a YMCA day camp at the ‘Blue” hills called “Camp Blue”. Every morning at 7am, we would walk to Fallon field and meet other kids at the water bubbler. All of us were in our play clothes with “Keds” sneakers on and a lunch bag and bathing suit. The bus full of kids and YMCA counselors would be driven an hour or so to a big field next to the woods and across the street from Houghton’s pond where I eventually learned to do the “dead man’s“ float.

 

After daily morning games in the field, swimming, and nature hunts in the lush woods, we all ate our bagged lunches. We drank cold milk provided in a pint size bottle .I always had chocolate flavored to go with my egg salad sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. After lunch, we rested on pine needles usually next to large tree.

 

A very special memory was meeting a deaf boy, John, at camp who was a whiz at jackknife and taught me. His jackknife had two blades and five tools. The belt hole tool was best for “around the world” jack-knife. My neighbor in Florida told me that it was called mumblety-peg.

 

One day, all the campers were led by Mr. Warren Flagg and his assistant on a hike up a long hilly pine-needle path sectioned off by railroad ties to the top of Big Blue for a tour of the Blue Hills Weather Observatory and a wonderful view of the local towns.

 

In later years, during my youth, another of my most exciting summer events took place on a canoe/camping /YMCA trip up the Charles River to Wellesley and back again.  It took a whole week. It was a true adventure. We paddled and paddled with two boys in each aluminum canoe upstream. Along the way, we experienced shooting rapids, wading through schools of huge carp bumping our legs as we pulled the canoes, and actually sleeping on the ground next to river as we roughed it at our campsites like Lewis and Clark. “National Geographic”, “Nature”, and “Survivor” was all ours in the Boston suburbs. It was a great adventure, except for the mosquitoes. They were horrendous! The YMCA leader had a sealed tent. We peons suffered. I'll never forget it, but coming back was with the current.

 

We never got on an airplane to go anywhere. We had it all in our "own backyard" more than fifty years ago in Rozzie! 

 

 

THE END