This is the continuation of the “Off Broadway” article that was posted this past December. These are the memories of Alex Ramsey, who grew up on the city’s East Side. It is interesting to note that he has been living in Texas since 1977, but that his fondest memories are from his youth. Alex was born in 1956.
“The cohesiveness of the neighborhood itself made it a truly special time and place to grow up in.”
When “my guys” and I got a little older, (12, 13 or so), we began to expand our horizons a bit. We pushed the boundaries of our bicycles outside the neighborhood. It was hard to explain to my kids when they were younger, and now to my twin grandsons, how different the world was for us growing up in Buffalo.
These days, we don’t allow my grandsons to play in the front yard, unless either my daughter, her husband, or myself are out there with ’em. It wasn’t quite “that tight” when my son and daughter were growing up in the 80’s and 90’s, but close. During the summers, we would say goodbye to our parents when we took off from the house at 8:00 or 9:00 am, and would get back home from the day’s adventures anywhere from 5:00-9:00 pm.
Often, the usual 5:00 pm suppertime would be motivation, then right back out again! Often our sustenance during the 10-12 hour outing would consist of a ham sandwich from Giza’s deli, a sub from Cisco’s, or Avenue Pizza & Subs, and countless bottles of Pepsi, RC (maybe 7UP), or Hires Root Beer. Two of our group members were the radical pop drinkers – Zeno was a Vernors guy, Chico – Dr. Pepper (a new pop in Buffalo at the time from Texas, with a weird name). In-between, Slim Jims, Paul’s hand-size pies, or Hostess Twinkies and/or cupcakes.
Our most common swimming bike trek was to Houghton Park, behind P.S.#69 on Clinton Street. We’d caravan on our bikes, down Broadway, Bailey, to Clinton, chain our bikes up and (like the guys from the movie The Sandlot) we did our thing.
We then took a bike/swimming trip to the next level. One of our group’s parents, Mrs. Kazmierczak, would allow us to pile 6 or 7 kids into their 1964 Chevy Impala, and take the 20-30 ride all the way down Broadway, through Lancaster, and into Alden. We would then turn left onto a country road, which dead-ended into a true watering hole/lake with a floatation diving board in the middle. The oasis was called Willow Beach. It was an expedition. They had a great snack bar for burgers, ice cream etc., and without a parent there (we were dropped off, and left to our own devices for the day), we’d go right back into the water after we ate. To this day, I’ve never comprehended the idiocy of No swimming for a 1/2 hour after eating. You get cramps with a hot dog and RC in your stomach?
As a parent, I have to admit that I used other wive’s tales on my kids, and later my grandsons – No candy before breakfast, or you’ll get worms! That was always a great deterrent. Around that time, a couple of the “older guys” – Gobi and Norbie – would take the younger guys – Theo and me – on the #4 Broadway bus downtown for Buffalo Bison hockey games, and we’d walk to War Memorial Auditorium (known as The Aud). My first game, I was 10. Billy Crystal plagiarized my line many years later in the movie City Slickers – as I walked up the ramp and viewed the rink (Bisons vs Providence Reds) I said, “Holy s*#t, this game’s in color!” There’s no way my kids or grandsons can begin to comprehend watching hockey or anything else not in color (except The 3 Stooges and I Love Lucy), which they all got a major dose of courtesy of dad/grandpa-especially the former.
We also took the bus to War Memorial Stadium (the Old Rockpile) for the Bisons baseball games (about 10-12 games/year). Other times, we would take a chartered bus that would depart from the old Greyhound station downtown, to an old style baseball field (not stadium) called Hyde Park in Niagara Falls, where Buffalo played a bunch of their home games.
The one great shot that I missed out on was in the summer of 1969. A number of older-older guys in the neighborhood, Jerry Basznaw, David Kazmierczak, and Mike Zielewski, (17-18), had always taken a liking to me, and in passing, invited me to join ’em for a camping trip to see a concert. I was an avid camper/Boy Scout, but this wasn’t the Boy Scouts, (at all!). It would be for 4-5 nights. I asked my ma, and she said no, too far, too long, no adults. No! As I often did (with great success), I appealed to my dad, who went to bat for me. I was 13 then. With my dad’s negotiation abilities, my ma conceded. She said, Only if I get another 13 year old to go along. The camping concert trip was on! My good friend Sidney’s parents went along. Sad to say, a couple days before departure, Sid screwed something up and was grounded. My ma and Sid’s dad (Mr. Joe) often spoke. He’d walk the 5 or 6 houses down from his house on Rommel for a few beers at Club Romway. My ma was always sitting at the open kitchen window overlooking Rommel and Broadway with her Pall Malls, coffee, or beer. That’s how Mr. Joe dropped the bomb that Sid was grounded. The camping concert outing… all bets were off. I couldn’t go. Upon their return a week later, Jerry, Dave, and Mike lamented that I couldn’t make it to… Woodstock! What was Woodstock? I asked. I saw what I missed several years later, which, needless to say, was heartbreaking.