Philip Lustig (45)
The photograph of the girls of 42 was my milieu, so I undoubtedly passed them in the halls. I do remember the girls I had a crush on, but too shy and introverted to ask for a date. My loss.
I never realized, until later in life, the good foundation I received at Weequahic. I had a fantastic career as a freelance photographer. In five years of constant travel on assignments, I managed to visit eighty-eight countries (and a wife from Amsterdam) eventually becoming a commercial studio photographer. As such I was employed at Hesse Studio in Hollywood, Director of Photography at the Fingerhut Corporation and, finally, Senior Photographer at the Franklin Mint.
When the mint closed in 2000, I chased my real dream to be a writer. Ten years at my local West Chester University taking Creative Writing, and Short Story classes. I have a portfolio of over fifty stories and as many poems. I always think I achieved this by the creativity flowing down the street, due to not only going to the same high school as famed Philip Roth, but also living three blocks from him on Leslie Street (the house we lived in, burned to the ground in the 67 riots). I graduated with his brother Sandy, never met Philip.
I also have to mention my brother Ted (42), a genius with an IQ well over 160. He was reading two books a day. When he died at 87, I calculated he had read 11,000 books. Phil
Jeff Golden (6/63) defers on legendary venue location:
To Gil Lustig (1/60), I think I remember you cruising Chancellor Avenue in a black Pontiac Gran Prix. Was that you? I stand corrected. You lived on Leslie Street, so your memory of what was there is probably much sharper than mine. As I said, Halem's move to Fabyan Place was prior to my personal knowledge of the upper Chancellor neighborhood. At least I got the intersection right, Chancellor and Leslie even if I got the exact corner wrong.
My recollection of the Chancellor Deli was that it was a much bigger store than a neighborhood luncheonette needed to be. In an age when Jewish delis were becoming extinct, it always seemed to me to be very old. It was like a holdover from the 1920s when the neighborhood was being built. I guess I was wrong on that, too.
But, at no extra charge, here is another (sort of) Halem's story. In the early 2000s I was in the car rental business at a neighborhood location in south Jersey. The company had downloaded a reservation to me for a woman from California. When she arrived, I drove the car up to the door for her and, as was my habit, I popped the trunk to check and make sure there was a spare tire and a jack inside and that no one had left any personal items in it, and I closed it. She asked, "What did you do that for?" I, being humorous, said, "Just checking to make sure there's no bodies." She became noticeably alarmed and said, "Yes, I have friends in California that are from New Jersey. They warned me to be careful of things like that in New Jersey." This was when "The Sopranos" was on TV and this lady obviously took that show way too seriously.
We chatted some more, and I asked her where in New Jersey her friends were from. She replied Newark. I told her that I'm from Newark and asked their name. Maybe I knew them. She said, “No, you wouldn't know them.” She then commented that their family owned a restaurant in Newark. I asked the name of the restaurant and she noted that it was just a little neighborhood restaurant and that I wouldn't know it. I persisted until she telling me their name was Halem. I told her, “I know exactly where that restaurant was. I lived about two blocks from there.” So, I guess another example of a small Weequahic world, once removed. Jeff
Traveling back in W-Time:
Gil Lustig (1/60)
To Alan Ginter (64), Sorry, Al, maybe you are too young to remember that Halem’s was first on the corner of Leslie Street and Chancellor Avenue in the 40's and early fifties. When I was a child, I used to watch the older guys flip coins on the Leslie Street sidewalk adjacent to the store. I spent many a day drinking chocolate sodas from their soda fountain. I also remember Halem’s was not allowed to sell Coca Cola to minors. I never did find out why. Maybe it was because we called it Coke? Who knows? I don't remember the exact year that they moved to Fabyan Place. The Chancellor Deli moved across Leslie Street into the vacant Halem’s store. Gil
Also, sorry, Jeff Golden (6/63), Harjays did not replace Halems on Chancellor Avenue and Leslie Street. Halems was on the southwest corner. When Halems moved to Fabyan Place, the Chancellor Deli replaced it. The deli was owned by Max Melnick and Hymie Umansky. The Melnicks lived across the street from me on Leslie Street.
Harjays replaced the Chancellor Sweet Shop on the northwest corner of Chancellor and Leslie. I know that because I used to lean on the fire hydrant in front of Halems. It became my favorite lookout position for many years after as I watched people ride up and down Chancellor showing off their fancy muscle cars. I believe Harjays was named after Mr. Rapapport’s kids, Harold and Jayne. Gil
Marty Friedman (1/47)
Just for the record, as a Chancellor Avenue boy, my recollection is that Halem’s was on the corner of Chancellor and Leslie Street in the 40s. Certainly not on Schley Street. We lived on Wainwright Street and walked to grammar school and high school past these stores until graduation in 1947. What year did Halem’s apparently move to Schley Street? Phil Skuratan was the pharmacist at a drug store on Wainwright and Chancellor. Leeds Drugs and Lehrhoff’s bakery were at the other two corners. Marty
Stew Bitterman (1/61)
So, Jeff (Golden 6/63) you are probably right. I only remember Halem’s on the corner of Fabyan Place. But we are forgetting the BEST place on Chancellor was Margie’s on the corner of Schley Street right across from my apartment at 299 Schley. Irving and Sylvia Blume owned it. The store had a pin ball machine that took a nickel and was changed every few months replacing it with a new one. Stew
Jacqueline Kaufer Klein (66)
To Alan Ginter (64), I loved reading every paragraph of your notes and the questions you raised. You had such lovely and poignant memories. I remember those train tracks crossing Chancellor Avenue between Stecher Street and Dairyland. There was a Taft Cleaners up around there with a glass window and ad containing a diorama of mannequins in real silk dresses which I used to love to look at.
I love the story he wrote about breaking his glasses so many times and of the bag of jelly doughnuts with the grease stains on them. And most of all, the detail of the compass in the jewelry store window was wonderful. I don’t know how small things like that stay with us for over half a century. But they become part of our DNA; it is extraordinary. Thank also for sharing those memories of the Christmas decorations on Springfield Avenue.
Another reason why these weekly bulletins are so wonderful and the memories are so clear This is the closest we will ever get to a time machine by sharing our beautiful memories. Jacqueline
Arnie Tillman (6/63)
With all this talk of hot dogs, it is odd that no one has mentioned Hot Dog Haven on Chancellor Avenue which was owned by Dave and Bev Aronow. Located about 2 blocks from Syds, going towards Irvington. They had really good French fries sold in a small brown paper bag. We would pour gobs of ketchup, shake it up and fish out the fries with a slender wooden fork. Also, the hot dogs could be ordered with sweet relish (sweet works) or hot relish (hot works). There was a popular fountain drink. called the. Kukamomga. Their son Les Aronow was a WHS 63 classmate. Arnie
Marlene "Pinky" Gold-Gamble (6/53)
To Elaine Hersh Krusch (50), as to the little Chinese place diagonally across from the high school, I remember it was named The Pagoda. Pinky
Martin Kaufman (Irvington 56)
To Alan Ginter, I recall crossing the tracks when a huge locomotive appeared almost hitting me. The engineer expelled hot steam toward me making me run as fast as I could to get out of the area. As I recall, this was 1956. Martin
Rick Reisboard (6/60)
Billy Fruchter Foster was my bar mitzvah-mate at Young Israel Synagogue where Zev Siegel was rabbi. We looked like Mutt and Jeff on the bima (stage) together; Bill was a giant and I was at least a foot shorter (maybe more). We weren't close friends, but I do remember Bill honing his game and an impossible to block jump shot while he practiced with Mike Baskin, his next-door neighbor, who was also huge and a good player. To read that Billy passed struck me hard. What a relief to know that he continues to live and hopefully enjoys life. Rick
