A TEA PARTY CIRCA 1938 IN LONG BEACH

My earliest recollections of Long Beach, where I was born, really start about the time I turned four or thereabouts. We were living downstairs in an apartment building in the 1800 block on Henderson Avenue, on the west side of town. We were right next to a large vacant lot. My earliest play times were in that vacant lot, which provided great opportunities for exploration and invention. I had my introduction to sour grass, dirt clods, licorice weeds, foxtails and burrs, along with lizards and salamanders, butterflies and earthworms. My sister and I made our own fun. There were no TVs, electronic games or computers to entertain us.

A favorite pastime was grabbing slivers of ice off the back of the ice truck when the iceman came around the neighborhood delivering ice. We didn’t have electric refrigerators then, just ice-boxes, into which blocks of ice were placed to provide refrigeration. When the iceman stopped his truck in front of our apartment, all of us kids would run towards the back of the truck. He would jump up into the back of it and then we’d watch him use a sharp pick to break a big block of ice into a smaller size. He would then grab it with a huge set of tongs and sling it over his shoulder, letting it come to rest on a rubber pad hanging over his shoulder and back that he wore to keep the ice from getting his clothes wet. As soon as he headed out for someone’s icebox we all would run up close to the truck and scoop up the ice chips as far as we could reach. Usually I was the smallest kid and someone would have to give me a boost so I could get a leftover piece of ice, and then we’d run out of sight, so as not to be caught with our contraband delight. We all felt we were getting something really wonderful – a simple sliver of ice.

The Good Humor man often came down our street in the summertime, with the tune “Mary Had A Little Lamb” playing loudly over a loudspeaker. Hearing that tune was our signal to hit our folks up for money. In those days a Good Humor Bar cost a dime. If our parents had the money, we would buy a delicious ice cream bar. We could get it with a plain chocolate coating or chocolate with nuts. Certain of the wooden stick handles had writing on the part buried deep inside the ice cream bar. If we found that writing on our stick, it was good for a free ice cream bar the next time the Good Humor man came around.

In September of 1940 I started kindergarten at Lafayette Elementary School and fell in love for the first time. A darling little boy in my class named Bobby Fletcher set my tiny heart all aflutter. Each day at rest time our class members would each roll out a little floor mat. Our teacher would put a record on the old wind-up Victrola and we would rest on the mats while we listened to a recording of “Le Cygne” – “The Swan.” To this day I connect Bobby Fletcher’s name with that tune. The two are inseparable in my memory. Athough I did not continue long at Lafayette Elementary School (my family made a short three-month move to Whitter when I was in first grade and upon our return, relocated to a different part of town) I did spend almost my entire school life in the Long Beach system. I ended up graduating with Bobby Fletcher, who was president of our Senior Class at Long Beach Poly. I never asked him if he remembered me. That love affair was surely just my own, not his.