Strawberry Lane Adventure, 1963

The cold winter of 1962-63 was a great one for misadventures. In late January, on the coldest day in Cleveland history, Denny and I took our little brothers, Kev, about 6 years old at the time, and Jim, about 4, on a long walk that took us over the I-90/ Rt.2 "Euclid Spur," which was then under construction, over to a cheap-arse discount store called "Fairway Discount Department Store," on Lakeland Boulevard. Well we discovered that you shouldn't be taking out a four-year-old and a six-year-old on such a long walk when it's 18 below zero. Dad had to rescue his little ones, Jim and Kev, and the older brothers, Bobby and Denny, who should have known better.

Not long after that, Denny, Buster Zylowski, Kenny Z, and I walked the new freeway-under-construction from behind Forest Park Junior High up to SOM Center Road, then south on SOM to North Chagrin Reservation, Strawberry Lake Pond to be exact. The route we took was about 7 to 9 miles in length, and we walked that distance through the ice and snow. When we got to Strawberry Lane we skated on the pond and when tired of that went over to the shelter house. It must have been Buster's idea (with help from Denny!) to build a fire--a big fire. We set our rubberized shoe-boots near the fire to dry out. It wasn't long before we could smell the rubber burning and melting. The shoes were pretty much ruined by the tremendous heat of the roaring fire. A guy in the shelter house offered to drive us back to Euclid, saving us from a 2 1/2 hour walk in melted boots.

When we finally got home, Dad wasn't there. When it got dark he jumped into his car and headed to Strawberry Lane to find us. When he got there, the Willoughby Hills Fire Department seemed to be working at the pond around a hole in the ice. My Dad's heart sunk as he thought the firemen were retrieving his sons' bodies from under the ice. Dad approached the firemen and asked them what was going on. No, they were not there to retrieve bodies that had fallen through the ice. They were adding a layer of fresh water on top of the ice to smoothe it out. Relieved, Dad jumped back into his car and headed home--hoping his boys had made it back.

When he got home, Dad was both happy and angry at the same time. Happy to see us alive; angry that we had caused him so much grief. Such was my dad's life with four boys!

Frozen Lake Erie

This morning I drove by beautiful Lake Erie, one of the world's largest lakes (either 11th, 12th, or 13th largest in the world--there's a legitimate debate over this). Lake Erie cover 10,000 square miles, an astonishing size; and right now almost every inch of the big lake is frozen. It certainly looks like you could walk from Mentor, Ohio, to Erieau, Ontario, some 48 miles--if you were crazy, had warm boots and gloves, and maybe a flask of Jameson in your back pocket.

My brother Denny, Buster and Kenny Zylowski, and I tried this many years ago (around 1963). We only got about a mile off the beach at E. 260th in Euclid when a helicopter started hovering overhead. The pilot's hand gestures strongly suggested that we head back to shore--so we eventually did that, but not before trying to chop a hole in the ice with a hand hatchet and doing a little fishing (by the way, the ice was at least 2 feet thick; and we didn't get one bite). So we ambled back to the shore, where we saw two Euclid policemen waving their hands at us.

When we got back to shore one policeman told us, "Don't you guys know? There's a law against walking out on the ice." Now I'm 99.99% sure there was no law against ice walking or ice fishing. Now we did range in age from 11(Kenny Z.) to 14 (me and Buster Z.), and the policeman had a right to worry about our safety. He asked us, "Do your mothers know where you are?" I answered, "I think they know." We gave Mom somewhat misleading info on where we would be ("about a mile from the lake shore near E. 260th"--we didn't tell her it would be a mile out on the ice). I also told the policeman that if there was indeed such a law, it was not a just law. Because according to one of my teacher's at St. Joe's, a law is not just or valid if it has never been "promulgated." I imagine the policeman wanted to slap me right there when the word "promulgated" slipped out of my mouth. Heck, I would have slapped me! Anyway, we complied with their requests and headed back home, with our hatchet, our tackle box, and no fish for the effort.

I have loved Lake Erie all my life. I love it while out on my boat in the summer; swimming at Headlands or East Harbor; eating and drinking at Put-in-Bay--and even standing by the icy lake in February at Mentor Beach Park. Geez, if I had warmer boots and gloves and a drop of Jameson's . . . .

Mudville/Willow Playground --Euclid, Ohio (2)

I'll never remember all the guys who played ball--for hours a day, almost every day of the summer-- at Mudville/Willow Playground. I remember running down there early in the morning. Running home for lunch, then back to Mudville to play more ball. A short supper break, then back to Mudville to play baseball until dark. As I think about it, it doesn't seem possible. But what is certainly true is that we spent an incredible number of hours playing ball at Willow Playground. We became very at ease around baseballs, gloves, bats. Very skilled, very adept, very natural players.

More Players.

One of the greatest hitters I remember was Tony Severino, from Briardale Avenue. He once hit a ball over the fence, across Willow Drive, and on to the roof of one of the F&S homes. Tony could hit like this from a very young age. I thought sure he would become a great major league player. He did make a career in sports. After Cathedral Latin High School, Tony played football for Kansas State University. I believe he became a great football coach for a Jesuit Catholic high school in the Kansas City area. [I've found out some things about Tony: he is a teacher and football coach at Rockhurst High School, a Jesuit prep school in Kansas City, Mo. Tony has held that position since 1983 and is the winningest coach in school history. His teams have won many state championships (7, I think). As of 2007, his winning percentage was around 80%. He is in the Missouri Coaches Hall of Fame. In 2000 Tony was named USA Today's coach of the year. Pretty good career for a Euclid boy!].

There was another group of guys from Briardale Avenue: John George, Fred George, Frank Calabro Jr. (and his Dad at times), the Lynch brothers (Danny, Pat, John, et al.), and so many more.

Of course my brother Denny ("Little Cogs") was always part of the scene, as was Buster Zylowski and Kenny Zylowski. There were the Andrulis boys, the Paul and Bernard Bednar, even Mike Sikora at times (Mike was a bit older than we were). This neighborhood was a paradise for kids!

Winter of 1976-77 in Cincinnati

I'm pretty sure that the winter of 1977-78 was the snowiest in Cincinnati's history, culminating with the great blizzard of January 26, 1978 (see the previous blog entry). The coldest winter was the year before, the winter of 1976-77. I was living that year in a drafty old apartment on Hollister Street, not far from Vine Street (my rent was $40 a month, and worth every penny!), in the Corryville/Clifton neighborhood. I had a gas space-heater that kept the apartment a toasty 50 degrees on cold days.On the coldest days I tried to stay as many hours as possible at the University of Cincinnati, where I was studying for a masters degree in education. When I came back to my chilly apartment, I often got into a sleeping bed in an attempt to keep warm.

One night, on one of the coldest, snowiest days of that winter, Timmy Jenkins arrived in town, having hitchhiked from Winona, Minnesota. Tim is now a terrific old-timey fiddler and dance caller. Back then he was still mostly playing the harmonica and learning how to play the fiddle. It was always great fun when Tim was in town. Tim had attended Cotter High School in Winona with Kenny Przybylski. Both these guys were legends in our circle of friends.

One day that winter, January 18, 1977, the temperature in Cincinnati hit 25 below zero, the coldest temperature I had ever experienced. It's odd that me, a boy from Northeast Ohio, would experience the coldest weather way down south in Cincinnati, but that is what happened. I went for a walk that day trying to get a feel for that temperature. It was definitely different! I noticed how my exhaled breath resulted in ice on my mustache and beard. And I noticed the effect on my nose, ears, and cheeks. Twenty-five below zero is scary!

In January or February of 1977, the Ohio River froze over around Cincinnati--a very rare circumstance. This led many hundreds of people to walk across the river between Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky--what struck me as a dangerous and foolish trick with all the river currents moving below the river ice. Of course I have done many many such foolish things myself, including walking a mile out onto a frozen Lake Erie--off East 260th in Euclid-- around 1962-63. I did this with my brother Denny and my friend Buster Zylowski and his brother Kenny Z. (more on that adventure some day).

[There was an article, with photograph, from the Cincinnati Enquirer of Sunday, December 31, 2000 entitled "Don't look for river to freeze over soon" that talks about people walking across the frozen Ohio in January/February of 1977. Try the following link for the story: http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2000/12/31/loc_dont_look_for_river.html]