Roaming
Chapter 6
With my Bar Mitzva behind me, the time at the end of the school day was mine again. As a latch-key kid of that era, I was free to do whatever I wanted to do after school. How I felt, who was around and weather conditions, were key to my deciding where to go and what to do. On school days I had to be home before my mom came from work at 5:30, weekends, school breaks and the summer vacation the time I had to be back home varied.
In bad weather I might choose the Ostendorf Library on 2nd Avenue. It was kid friendly, cozy warm in the winter and I loved the place. The cast iron stacks in the library were filled with books I was interested in. In good weather, I might play with the kids on 7th Street or just roam around the neighborhood alone or with some of my pals.
Sundays in late Spring were my favorite time to be on the Lower East Side. That was when Orchard, Houston and Delancey Streets morphed into open air bazars. Shop keepers put crudely built wood display stands piled with merchandise onto the sidewalks to entice shoppers into their shops. Late Friday afternoons and Saturdays the shops closed for the Jewish Sabbath most of the people on the streets would be going to their Synagogue. Sundays were the busiest days of all, pushcarts would be out lining the curb, sidewalks and roads would be jam packed with shoppers.
I loved being part of the chaos and cacophony caused by the thousands of shoppers walking, talking, and bargaining. Pushcart peddlers shouting to passing shoppers they had better prices than in the shops. Once-in a while a pushing match or fist fight would break out between shoppers or merchants. Once I witnessed a thief being served rough justice with a club by an angry shopkeeper whose goods he’d tried to steal. Orchard Street on Sunday for me was more interesting and exciting than a three ring circus and it was free.
When I got hungry on Sunday, it was Katz’s Delicatessen on Houston Street for a kosher hot dog loaded with mustard and sauerkraut. The hotdog would quiet my growling stomach and hold me until I got home for dinner. Stepping inside of Katz’s the delicious aromas of corned beef, pastrami steaming and Kosher hotdogs sizzling on the grill made my mouth to water.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Getting a hotdog for an unescorted kid in Katz’s was a process. First, I went to the cashier, I’d tell him or her I wanted to order a hotdog and a Dr. Brown’s celery soda.
The cashier would write my order down on a small pad and tell me how much to pay. After paying they would hand me the carbon copy of my order to give to the counterman. if the counterman recognized me when giving him the carbon me, he’d ask, “The usual right?” What followed was a dazzling display of dexterity and showmanship by the counterman. He’d pick up a heated split roll with his tongs, drop the roll into his lefthand, then snatch a sizzling hotdog off the grill with the tongs, put it into the roll and onto a plate. Dropping the tongs onto the counter, he’d slather the hotdog with mustard and bury it in under warm sauerkraut. Smiling he’d hand me the plate with my hot dog and my Dr. Brown’s soda and then say, “Ess und sei mir gesint.” Eeat and stay healthy for me in Yiddish dialect)
I’d Sit down at one of the available wobbly two-person tables in the restaurant. While eating my hotdog and drinking my soda I’d look at and watch the people eating and talking. Katz’s Deli always crowded Lunch time.: the babble of voices, the clatter of dishes, waiters yelling at the countermen to hurry up with the orders. The counter men yelling for the dishwashers to bring clean dishes, Katz’s was a wonderful mad house of activity, sound and really good hotdogs.
The waiters in Katz’s could be surly, especially towards kids that came in without an adult. One Sunday after I got my order there was only one table for me to eat at. The waiter who’s station the table was at started grousing about me in Yiddish after I sat down. I heard him say, “Look the kid’s taking up a place at my station eating a fifteen-cent hot dog. When he finishes, he’ll leave his trash, empty bottle and plate for me to clean up and for sure he not leaving me a tip.” I left a Ten Cents on the table for him. in 1950 Ten Cents could buy a cup of coffee, a loaf of bread, a ride on the subway or bus and a whole lot of other things.
The Seasons dictated the street foods and drinks I consumed. Summer time it was cold melon, ice cream, syrup on shaved ice, Coke and Pepsi. Winter time roasted peanuts and chestnuts, hot sweet potatoes, knishes, tea and coco with a marshmallow on top. My year-round treats along with hot dogs were Devil Dogs, Yankee Doodles, soft pretzels and bagels. As I got older and more secular, I added exotic and forbidden Chinese and Italian non-Kosher food and treats to my diet.
