Historian’s Corner

By Dan Shine

Voice Columnist

Campbell Avenue, Fifty Years Later

(as written, 2010)

Part II

  See part 1 | part 3

Campbell Avenue is the only main thoroughfare in the United States which is named to honor an enemy soldier.  Originally it was known as Fourth Avenue, Allingtown Road or West Haven Road.  It extended north from the Green, but to the south, it was only a footpath through the marshland.  With the advent of the horse railroad and a wider right-of-way, the lower portion was renamed Railroad Avenue.

Finally the entire length was named in honor of Adjutant William Campbell during the late 1800s; Adj. Campbell is remembered for having saved the life of Rev. Noah Williston during the invasion of West Haven by the Redcoats in 1779, only to be killed shortly thereafter on Allingtown Hill (then known as Milford Hill). 

Originally, the marshes along the West Haven shoreline extended all the way inland, up to present-day Brown Street, and even back to the pond on the Green where Old Field Creek rose.  At some time just prior to the 1860s, Old Field Creek and all of the adjacent marshlands were eliminated by a drainage system; and the grade was raised, to allow for the construction of many new dwellings.  A street and a horse railroad were extended from West Haven Green to the Savin Rock amusement area, and that street became West Haven’s main thoroughfare.  This week we continue our trip up Campbell Avenue in 1960, in the company of a seven-year-old boy on a bicycle:

Next, he passed Frank and Flossie’s Barber Shop, with its children’s barber chair that looked like a horse; Frank and Flossie’s was always a busy place.  Across the street were Fitzgerald’s Florist and the American Buckle Company factory, from whose open windows came the thump-thump-thump of brass strips being pressed into buckles.  Across the street from the buckle company, he stopped at the Campbell Electric garage, bought a bottle of Coke from the tall red machine, and talked to a couple of boys who were inflating a leaky bicycle tire.  Since it was a weekday afternoon, there wasn’t much traffic on Campbell Avenue.

Later, the boy passed the First National store and Dr. Milici’s office just before he crossed Brown Street.  To his left was Stop & Shop, formerly the Food Basket, with its conveyor system that brought the groceries in tote boxes out of the store to the edge of the parking lot, so that the shoppers could drive-up-and-load-up.  The sign in the store window said that they gave S&H Green Stamps with every purchase.  Across the street was the small showroom of the Mantilia Motors Ford dealership, with the sleek, 1960 Ford Thunderbirds on display, along with their new and boxy “economy” car, the Falcon, which looked drab and sad in a pale green coat of paint. 

He passed the Candy Kitchen; this was a popular hangout for kids.  Next door was Sweeney’s Barber Shop.  The boy’s mother had given him seventy-five cents for a haircut and now he waited his turn in the hot, smoke-filled barber shop.  He passed the time by reading a comic book that someone had left behind, as an AM radio on a shelf played “Theme from a Summer Place.”  Ray Sweeney and Frank Altomare were good guys and nice to kids, but some of the boys said that they gave “bowl haircuts.”   The men in the barbershop discussed who would be the next president, Kennedy or Nixon, and what to do with the threats of Communism in Europe, Cuba and someplace called Vietnam.  Meanwhile, the boy finished the comic, picked up a newspaper and read the funny pages:  Steve Canyon, Blondie, Lil’ Abner, Out Our Way, Nancy, Pogo, Gasoline Alley, Peanuts, and Dick Tracy; he liked them all.

Minutes later, he left the barbershop, now sporting a crewcut.  On the corner next to Sweeney’s was Ship’s Grill Restaurant.  As he passed, the boy looked in the door; it was dark and mysterious in there.  He crossed Court Street and stopped at Mayer’s Drug Store, across Campbell Avenue from the brick municipal building.  Once he was inside Mayer’s, he sat down at the counter and ordered a cherry Coke float.  As the boy watched, Mr. Mayer pumped the brown syrup and then the cherry syrup into the tall glass, then added the carbonated water, and finally the scoop of ice cream.  For the next few minutes, the boy savored the cold drink; and then he was on his way again.

To be Continued

In the preparation of this column, we gratefully acknowledge the recollections and guidance of Cathie Iaccarino, Bill Breen, Phyllis House, Joanne Archibald, Helyn Johnson, Peter Malia, Steve and Jeanne Insalaco, Frank Belbusti, Tim Wrightington, Judy Iversen, Sal Montalto, Rosemary Fitzgerald and Harry Peschell.