This address was the first address I knew. It was a private house in Brooklyn owned by my Grandfather and I lived there from the time I was born until my 6th year. It held the best times of my life because I was completely innocent and had no cares. I had some adventures there which I would like to share with you.
I was told by my father that my grandfather saved my life. It happened like this. When I was about 4 my grandfather and I went for a walk. While we were walking we came upon an Italian man laying concrete on a walk. Being a kid I put my foot in the wet concrete right in front of the man. Needless to say he advanced on me cursing in Italian and would have done me bodily harm if my grandfather had not been there. Now my grandfather was a very tall man (he stood 6’ 1”) and was quite broad. He stepped in front of me and told the man that I was a little child and did not know any better. The man accepted my grandfather’s apology and went back to work and we continued our walk.
When I was 3 years
old I remember that Christmas vividly because on Christmas day I went to
look in my stocking to see what Santa had brought me and found nothing
but coal. We had a coal burning steam boiler for heat. I remember crying
so hard that I threw up. Even though it was a practical joke to this day
I will not play a practical joke on anybody and get upset if any is played
Near where we lived there was a fort. It was called Fort Hamilton and guarded the Hudson River at a place called the narrows (it is now spanned by the Verrazano Bridge) and is opposite a fort on Staten Island called Fort Wadsworth. Now both forts had a main armament of 16” coastal guns with each 1 capable of firing a shell with 2,000 pounds of explosive. Needless to say no ship could ever pass by without getting blown apart. When I was 16 years old on the 4th of July the Army decided to test the guns. What a disaster. They never figured the blast wave which broke every window for about a half away from the blast. Along Fort Hamilton Street every store window was smashed. It was quite a 4th.
In 1939 we moved away because my father got a job in Baltimore. My grandparents sold the house in the fall of 1940. I only came back once to go to the Worlds Fair of 1939-40. I have never gone back since. I prefer to keep what memories I have and cherish them..