Posted on

Growing Up in Frankford Part 5

Continuation of Lyle (Corky) Larkin remembers:

Christmas At Wanamaker’s

Christmas was always my favorite time of the year to go down town and take in all the amazing sights of the city streets dressed up in festive style, with  lights strung across Market St. and the candle cut-outs fastened to the street lights. There was a Santa in front of each of the Major Department stores  ringing his Salvation Army bell while standing next to the ever familiar tripod with kettle. The most fascinating part of the trip was the various scenes the “Window Dressers” created for each of the Department stores. These artists would create complete wonderland scenes or have manikins so real looking  that sometime you actually had to look twice just to make sure. Meeting under the Eagle, was the accepted unofficial meeting place if you got separated  from your partner while shopping. It always amazed me how many people would just be standing there around that huge gold statue of the eagle until  their partner showed up.

To be continued…

Posted on 9 Comments

The Price of Inaction at Adams Avenue

The prospect of some gentrification of Frankford, with the assistance of some well-developed historical sites, here and there, makes careful preservation of buildings like 1548 Adams Avenue, the nearly-three-centuries-old Worrell/Winter house, an exciting concept.

But, Frankford and historical enthusiasts note well the following word-to-the-wise…

In the Spring of 1968, while I still lived in Frankford, I was a Sophomore in Father Judge High School up on Pennypack Creek, off Frankford Avenue. Our American History instructor was Father Leon Bonikowski.

Fr. Bonikowski loved American history with a passion. He loved historical buildings from colonial times even more. And the historical building he loved most was the Benjamin Rush house, at Red Lion Road and Keswick Road in Northeast Philadelphia. He decided to dedicate himself to personally push for reconstruction and exhibition of that colonial era structure.

One day in late 1967, Fr. Bonikowski was driving down Red Lion Road toward the intersection with Keswick Road. As he came abreast the Benjamin Rush property, he saw an astonishing sight: The Benjamin Rush house was simply gone! It had vanished!

Filled with rage, when the Spring, 1968 semester at Father Judge came around Fr. Bonikowski made, as the topic for his American History class student term papers, “What happened to the Benjamin Rush house?”

When I came home that day, and brought the subject up at the dinner table, my father fell dead quiet. This was discouraging to me, because my father was a civil engineer who was Chief of Field Operations in the Department of Licenses & Inspections in Philadelphia. If anyone could help me find the answer to the fate of the Benjamin Rush house, he could.

I nagged dad about the subject a few times more, with no result.

Finally, one night, dad brought home a file from work. He said, “Pete, I can tell you who took away the Benjamin Rush house, and show you the City’s file on it, so long as you let me review it and, if necessary, edit the your term paper, after it is completed.”

Excited, I agreed, and said, “Who took away the Benjamin Rush house?”

Dad said, “I did.”

I said, “What?????!!!!!”

Dad explained that though the Benjamin Rush house was on the Philadelphia Historical Commission’s list of premiere historical properties, the building began to fall apart, and to become an eyesore, and a gathering place for thugs. So, Licenses & Inspection boarded-up the doors and windows — exactly the way 1548 Adams Avenue is boarded-up — and put up signs, and warned the Historical Commission by certified letter that these things had been done and that building was in serious trouble.

The Historical Commission did nothing, and weather took its toll on the building.

A few years later, a portion of one of the exterior walls fell onto a child and injured him. A complaint was telephoned-in to Licenses & Inspection; my father dispatched a building inspector; and the inspector carefully examined the building and declared it “in imminent danger of collapse.”

The legally required response to that declaration was demolition. A demolition contractor was hired by the City, itself. The Benjamin Rush house was demolished. The building materials were carted-away and dumped. The basement was filled-in with fill dirt. And, suddenly, the building was no more.

My father and his boss, the Commissioner of Licenses & Inspection, read my paper and approved it, I think mostly because Licenses & Inspection had been warring with the Historical Commission for years, and they were sick of their failure to actually do something to preserve historical properties, while they protested demolition by Licenses & Inspection once the properties became a threat to life and limb.

When Fr. Bonikowski read my term paper, he was astonished to see the story, in full detail, with documentation attached, and, though my father was the actual “bad guy” who authorized destruction of the building, I received the highest grade. The paper brought Fr. Bonikowski a little peace, I think, because when he saw all of the evidence he realized that what had happened was inevitable.

You have just read the future of 1548 Adams Avenue, the nearly-three-centuries-old Worrell/Winter house, if nobody does anything, beginning now.

Peter J. Dawson

21 November 2011

 

 

Posted on 2 Comments

The Story of Wally’s Bar

When I was a teenager in the 1960’s it was called Wally’s Bar (Bridge & Jackson Sts.) – until the late 1980’s. We even made up a little song about it:

“I was drunk last night; I was drunk the night before; but tonight I’m gonna get drunk; like I never got drunk before ….”

In the about 1983 Wally Wyszynski wanted $90,000 for the place. When I said I could raise the money and buy it – he quickly raised the price to $130,000 to prevent me from buying it.

Soon thereafter, he got cancer but he was still serving the 20 cent beers while he was wearing a colostomy bag – and he still wanted the $130,000 which I could not raise.

I told my friends that Wally wanted to go out wearing his boots. He did.

I’ll miss Wally & his bar. There were many great games of Horse Collar 21 & 51 played on that table with the old timers and the 20 cent beer.

Wally died and his wife ran it a few years and ended up selling Wally’s Bar for $80,000 to a couple of partners (a woman & a man). The new name was Uncle Jacks.

Uncle Jack wanted a young crowd – the old geezers had to go, but how were they going to do that? Most of the time the old timers would beat us young guys on the shuffle-board for a beer and practically drink for free. We had to out drink the old guys to get them off the shuffle board, because we almost never won a game.

The first thing Uncle Jack did was to scrap the old wooden shuffle board, as it was a game played over 20 cent beers & kept the old timers drinking. They wanted to push the more expensive 12 oz. bottled beer; and not sell 6 oz. glasses of tap beer.

The second thing they did was tear out walls and removed the kitchen as to make the place bigger. It soon had no kitchen, but did have some pool tables & dart boards.

One day – An odd thing happened.

The woman partner in Uncle Jack’s loved to gab on the phone, but it was one of those old cheap cordless phones.

My two sisters lived almost directly across the street and my one sister is legally blind and has nothing better to do but to listen to a police scanner, which by accident picked up the phone calls from the bar being transmitted over the airwaves.

Anyway my sister hears her telling the story that while demolishing the kitchen wall, they found over $80,000 that Wally, throughout his lifetime had saved and hid this money in the wall.

Wally died and never told the old Lady about the money, or perhaps it was there from before the great Depression and Wally did not know.

My sister tells me the money story, and so I went into the bar and had a couple of rounds to loosen up. I’m a bit pissey & salty about the shuffle board removal and I feel like having some fun without the board.

I called the owner over and said to her that if she would pour me a free beer I would giver her a hot tip.

She said: NO! I said “OK, how about a 20 cent beer and I’ll giver you some important information.”

Well she was kind of nasty and told me that “prices were not negotiable, and that if I could not afford to pay for a beer to just get the hell out.”

I told he that I was not her enemy and just trying to help her by passing her some information that I was told.

She said: “What information?”

I said “that anyone who just found $80,000 in the wall could afford to pour me a 20 cent beer.”

She was changing all kind of colors and I think her eyes were bugging out of her head like Jackie Gleason (the Honeymooners).

Well anyway, about that time I am cracking up & giggling. I really did not want another beer.

I said I would give her “some free advice.”

I said “that everyone in the neighborhood knew about the money.” I said “it was being picked up on every AM radio in the neighborhood, and now that she did have so much new found wealth, that she should not be so cheap when buying a new phone.”

That was it!!! She threw me out!

I was Flagged for Life!!!!

Not much latter, her and her partner had a falling out. He stole all the new found money & her new cordless phone and ran away. She went back to talking on the old cheap phone – so my sister says.

She ended up selling the place to a couple brothers who were wanna be gangsters or they were roofers or something for $130,000.

The new owners changed the name to Cappy’s Cafe.

After many fights, lawsuits & people getting assaulted & broken jaws – they sold the place, and next it became known as Minnow’s bar.

At Minnow’s there was a shooting and they were closed down. They just reopened as Natasha’s Caribbean Cafe (no liquor).

Oddly, it has (an illegal) cell phone tower on the roof broadcasting telephone calls to everyone.

I never went back.

J.M.

Posted on

Before it Was Veteran’s Day

Frankford War Memorial

What is Armistice Day?  November 11 was originally designated as Armistice Day in memory of the armistice that ended the hostilities of World War I in 1918.  They thought it would be the war to end all war but it turned out to be a prelude to Wold War 2.  On November 11, 1922 Frankford dedicated its memorial to those who served in the Great War.   That memorial stands up at Frankford Stadium at Large and Wakeling Streets.  It is a fitting monument designed by renowned architect Paul Philippe Cret.

I became interested in the memorial last year on one of my trips around looking for pictures.  So I began documenting it, taking pictures and doing some research with Debbie Klak at the Historical Society of Frankford.  There are 8 bronze tablets listing all those who served and died.  I started looking and I found my next door neighbor up there.  He told me he had been in the war.  It was nice to see him remembered that way, I know he would have been proud to point it out if he was here.  Surely by now most of those who are listed have passed away.

There was one thing that I thought was needed and that was a list of the names of the men and women who are named on those bronze tablets, so we compiled the data and are making it public today.  There are 2,381 names, among them 29 women.  28 fatalities are listed. There people all were from Frankford, Northwood, East Frankford, Frankford Valley etc.  You can browse the pdf here.  You may find someone you recognize.

In 1954, Armistice Day was renamed Veteran’s day in honor of all the veterans who have served in all the wars.