Old Men, Old Tales of Old New York - 1950 Style (Another 'AngryMan' Memory)

The 1950’s here in America seems to be filled with the last vestiges of a simpler time. It was the near death of many skilled craftsmen and the crafts they learned to create, often under apprenticeship in their youth. Shoemakers actually were able to make shoes by hand in their cobbler shops, not just repair them. 

                         

Tailors often served as dry cleaners too...they could make you a suit or shirt, in record time, all by hand. Put a small deposit down, come back for fittings, and pick up the garment shortly thereafter...

My feelings are, that I am fortunate to have lived, and witnessed those times, places and people before the ‘change’ enveloped them; before the fading, into windblown dust…

It was a time not much different than my parents experienced in their growing up, or my grandparents. Perhaps there existed more of the old way, and less of the new for them, but very similar in general. What was still in existence that’s gone now or extremely rare to find? Well…how about the horse and wagons?

                     Source

Yes, horses and wagons clopping down the asphalt streets of New York City. As a child, they were a sight to behold. We had at least three in my neighborhood of Queens N.Y. The ‘Junk Man’ who would come through with cow bells strung across the front of his wagon. He had a cord attached to them, and would rattle them as he bellowed out, “Hunk man…any old ‘HUNK’… He’d emphasize “Hunk” in a very nasal sounding voice.

I’m not sure why he had trouble with the ‘J’ sound…maybe a speech impediment, or accent from the old country?

The fruit and vegetable man (as we called him) positioned his horse and wagon right off the corner of Steinway St. on Ditmars Blvd. Right outside of the Tailor Shop, and Barber. He would let me pet the nose of his old horse, and feed him sugar cubes. I still remember the tickling of the horses lips and tongue against my little hand, and the slobbering wetness that made me say “yuck” while I wiped the saliva off with my shirt…

                              Source

Then, there was the ‘Ice Man’…his horse pulled a wagon loaded with melting blocks of ice, and some wooden barrels. He’d use a giant hook and prong to grab the heavy blocks of ice, sliding them towards him. The Ice Man would then use an ice pick to break them into smaller pieces; which he fed into a grinding machine mounted at the back of the wagon.

The smaller chunks of ice would fall out the bottom of the grinder, into a barrel placed underneath. I forgot how he managed to get those heavy barrels off the truck, but I think it was a hoist of some type. He’d then lean and spin the ice barrels onto a large hand-truck to complete the journey into the store; for the beer and soda coolers.

My friends and I thought the horses and wagons were from the cowboy days. We wondered if they were ever covered wagons, and crossed the Great Plains out West, where the Indians lived…

Astoria Pool, Queens N.Y.

It was a good time in our history, for the most part. No more war, Memorial Day parades down Steinway Street; Easter picnics with the family in Astoria Park. The Milkman delivered milk, butter, cream and eggs to us, in the wee hours of the morning.

Looking back…it almost seems like a dream to me…like it never really happened; but, it did.  Guess that’s how the ‘mind’ get’s when it’s old…the past returns in a rolling mist, misty memories. 

Old timers speak and sometimes write about ‘how it used to be'… and, sometimes…someone cares to listen.

Another AngryMan Memory on Steemit May 22, 2018