By Dan Shine
Voice Columnist
Campbell Avenue, Fifty Years Later
Part III
(Originally written 2010.)
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.” Longfellow
This week, we continue our trip up Campbell Avenue, in the summer of 1960, in the company of a seven-year-old boy on a bicycle.
Now he passed Johnny’s Grill and Charlie Wong’s Laundry, Sal’s Barber Shop and then the West Haven Seafood Market. In the next block, and across from the Green, Wolfe’s Bakery was where the family would stop after church on Sundays, to pick up last minute items for Sunday dinners. The lady behind the glass display case could always be relied upon to offer the boy a cookie while his mother made her selections. Next he passed Warner’s Hardware, which was another place where he and his father would stop on Saturdays.
At the corner of Main Street, he looked at the three-story brick building with trepidation: for on the third floor of that building was the Williams Ballroom Studio, and the boy’s mother had been talking of sending him there for dancing lessons, “When you’re ten.” She was intent on making a Young Gentleman out of him; but the stubborn child was equally intent on being Just a Boy.
Behind the tall brick building was Sy’s Center Spa. The boys’ grandparents lived on Union Avenue, and sometimes he and his grandmother would walk there for lunch, and then take the bus to New Haven, for his grandparents had never owned a car.
The boy leaned his bicycle up against the glass windows of Silver’s Drug Store and went inside. He walked up to the two pay phones located in the center of the store and beneath a metal sign with a bell on it; he checked the coin returns, hoping to find a forgotten dime or two, but alas, no luck.
Since he was about out of money, the rest of this trip would be nothing but a sightseeing expedition. Back on his bike, he passed the old brick town hall; on the Campbell Avenue side of the building were two arching doors for the fire house. Next, on the right, he passed Herzog’s Mens Shop, Wood’s Hardware and T. Marcus Jewlery. To his left, and just behind the town hall, were Quigley’s Diner and Horwitz Department Store. Downstairs from Horwitz’s was West Haven Bowling Alleys. And just across the street from Horwitz’s was Clark’s 5 & 10, where he could buy all of his family’s Christmas gifts for a dollar or two; for such was the value of money in 1960.
Ryan’s Stationers was an important stop for the boy—when he had a couple of nickels—for it was there that he could purchase inch-wide rubber bands that were indispensible for the building of slingshots. The woman behind the counter knew what he was up to, and always gave the boy a stern look and a free lecture along with those rubber bands.
He would have stopped at Liggett’s Drug Store on the corner of Center Street, but he was out of money and the clock on the church steeple had said it was already past four. If he wasn’t home before suppertime, the boy’s mother would be angry.
Kitty-corner from Liggett’s was First New Haven National Bank, with its marble floor, walls, and counters. The tellers worked from behind barred windows. The whole place felt cold and forbidding, but that was where his parents kept their money, so it was necessary to visit there from time to time.
Next to the bank was Rosner’s Market, which was a typical local grocery store of that era. Beyond Rosner’s were the Rivoli Sweet Shop and the Rivoli Theater, where the boy would go with his sister on Saturday afternoons–to watch a serial short and a feature movie—all in black-and-white. He knew that some of the older boys would bring candy “fireballs” into the theater, wet them in their mouths, and throw them in the darkness at the screen or at other kids’ heads, so for that reason, they never sat in the front. Once moistened, the fireballs would trace a glowing arc through the darkened theater as they followed their paths to destruction, and they would stick to whatever they hit; and human victims were sure to cry out when struck. Eventually, the man with the flashlight would come and take the recalcitrant fireball-throwers away, but meanwhile all of these shenanigans provided some excitement and an interesting diversion from the scheduled entertainment.
When he reached the corner of Elm Street, the boy turned his bicycle left, leaving Campbell Avenue and passing the Phelps mansion; then he turned down Savin Avenue and headed for home. He decided right then and there that he would never be like the old fellows in the barbershops and the hardware stores, arguing endlessly about senators and presidents. A child’s world is an imaginary world, and like Peter Pan, the boy would never grow up, he would remain a boy forever. Life would always be just like this and never change for him, he thought to himself: warm summer days, idle afternoons, no responsibilities and no worries. And he would live all of his summers with the Savin Rock amusement area right there in his back yard. And Campbell Avenue would always be there for him, just like it was on this day: a place to while away an afternoon when there was nothing else for him to do but have fun. For in that moment, the road of life stretched on and on endlessly over the far horizon, just like Campbell Avenue.