Retro Jacket
By
Gerry Niskern
(Memoir Interludes)

We waited. The sun was getting higher and searing heat rose from the sidewalk. I tried to find some shade up in the shadow of the building. Donna, my girlfriend, sighed, “I hope they have jackets this time.” Suddenly, the door opened and waves of excitement carried me into the store. The crowd surged thru the aisles and pushed me forward like an ocean swell down the steps to the men’s department in the basement of Korricks Department store. I was separated from my girlfriend. Cheers went up when shoppers spotted the stacks of Levis they had spent hours waiting in line in the August sun to buy,
“Here, over here,” Donna yelled as she grabbed a couple of jackets. I took one, tried it, and it fit! Mission accomplished. The Levis were three dollars and the jackets were four. Some of the “ In”girls in school were wearing them. The guys had always sported the jackets, but the trend for the girls was starting now.
The word had gone out in town that Korricks would have a shipment of Levis on Saturday. We were never sure just what would come in each shipment. But, we knew the drill. Armed with our babysitting money, Donna and I got in line at 7 A.M. on Saturday morning. When the doors opened at nine o clock everyone who had been in line was there for only one thing, Levis.
Between l941 and 45 cities in the Western United States suffered many shortages during the war. All truck and train shipping was dedicated to the war effort. The government issued ration books to every citizen for shoes, sugar and meat. A J Bayless, our neighborhood market had meat available on Saturday morning every week. My sister and I went early, around seven, to get in line. On hot summer days it was not fun, but no one complained. It was just your job. Mom, armed with the ration books, came later when it was time for the doors to open. At that point, we ran to the butchers counter and was allowed one roast, and maybe some bacon all depending on what the store had received.
Clothing, like the Levis, and yard goods were hard to come by too. When it was rumored any time that Korricks would have some yard goods, we followed the same routine. We waited in line early and then when the doors opened, my sister yelled, “forget the elevator, it’s too slow.” We raced up three flights to the third floor and secured some bolts of material while waiting for our mother to arrive on the elevator. “We should get a couple of dresses out of this.” Mom yelled over the noise of the crowd.
I looked forward to a new outfit, but nothing filled my heart with joy like finally wearing my new Levi jacket. I wore it all thru Junior Hi and High School, but only with skirts to school. They were called Levi jackets back then and somewhere along the line in various decades their popularity came and went. Actors started wearing them in movies. Then The fashion designers began calling them Jean jackets, making all kinds of changes in material, stitching and colors too. but mine was still a Levi jacket to me.
I don’t know when I let it slip away, but I’ve wished I had it back many times.
After all, it was “The Real McCoy!”

Courtship Interludes
By

Gerry Niskern
(Snippets from the Creative Memoir Writing workshop. Topic suggested: Past family history)
Suddenly, she was holding a small white card. The young fellow who had been in line in front of them thrust it into her hand as he hurried away to join his friends. Her friend Ruby grabbed it and read, “Hello, I’m Chester Craig, Who are you?”. Then, she smelled it. Eva reached for the card and asked, “Why are you smelling it?” Her petite, blonde friend replied, “Because, silly, if it smells like gasoline it means he probably has a car.”
The girls paid their admission to enter the County Fairgrounds and headed straight to the Midway. Eva loved the bright lights and the rides and planned to go on every one of them. The sound of the calliope as the carosuel spun around was drawing them in.
Eva Gunto, the young coal miner’s daughter, gave her mother her paycheck as usual after work on Friday, but this week Mom handed her back five dollars and said, “You go fair”.
The line for the Ferris wheel was long so the girls decided to stroll past the booths with games of chance. There was a small crowd and loud cheers at one spot as a lean, tan fellow was throwing winning shots at the milk bottles. “That’s Chet, the guy that gave you his card. Remember he was the star pitcher of the Moundsville High School baseball team last year.”
Later on, as they approached the Ferris Wheel again, that pitcher guy was suddenly by her side. “ Would you like to ride the Wheel with me?” Speechless, she nodded yes. Chet took hand and helped her climb the metal steps and steadied the swinging seat. Her first ride on a ferris wheel was breathtaking. As they ascended high above the fairgrounds she felt like she was looking down on the whole world. Her new friend was very quiet and she saw he was blushing as his friends watching below were razzing him.
As it grew late, the crowd thinned. Ruby pulled her aside and whispered, “Bob has a car. If you will ride in the rumble seat with Chet, they’ll take us home. Okay?”
As they reached the car Eva wondered how they would ever get into that rumble seat. She found out quickly. Chet grabbed her hand and directed her to step on the running board with her left foot and then onto a small indentation in the fender with her right. “Now, just step down onto the seat with your left foot and slid in”
The ride home was magical with the breeze in her hair and her new friend’s arm around her shoulder. The stars were warm and bright.
After many movie dates and picnics down on the river, Chet invited her to go on a Moonlight River Cruise. They would catch the ferry at Wheeling and as Chet explained “There will be music and a dinner.” The Ferry would cruise the Ohio River to Pittsburgh and return later in the early morning hours.
Eva’s older sisters came to the rescue. Sophie loaned her new mauve silk shantung dress. Sister Kathrine donated her kid pumps and Annie marceled Eva’s new short bob in soft waves with the iron heated on their coal burning kitchen stove. Sarah came over with her sparkling beaded purse to carry. Best of all, Chet had his uncle Thad’s car and they didn’t have to ride in a rumble seat!
The swing band was playing Jazz and some were dancing the Charleston when they boarded the ferry boat. Eva loved standing at the bow and watching the water part in waves in front of them. After dinner the band started some slow love ballads and she and Chester danced cheek to cheek under the moonlight. Way too soon the ferry reversed and headed back. Finally , the band swung into “Good Night Ladies,Good Night Ladies.” And they were home.
They eloped the next fall as the county fair was setting up again. They took the train to Pittsburgh and were married by a Methodist minister. He didn’t know them and they lied about their age.
The following Sunday one of the “pillars of the Methodist church”, Laura Barnhardt Craig, heard whispering in the pew behind her. “Hey, did you hear? Chester Craig and that Eva Gunto eloped over the weekend?”
Laura promptly fainted.

A snippet from my “On This Corber ” Series for the Arizona Republic

“The Big Apple”

By

Gerry Niskern

The busiest intersection in downtown Phoenix in the mid 40’s was at 2nd Avenue and W. Washington. The Wells Fargo building stands there now, but back then the old Ford hotel occupied that space. The corner newsstand at the hotel was a popular stop for the streetcar passengers waiting to take the Eastlake car to Sixteenth Street or the Capitol car heading west on Washington all the way to 22nd Avenue. If you had to transfer on your nickel ride to the Brill or Kenilworth line heading north; sometimes it was quite a wait.
The heavy set man who owned the corner newsstand, sat high above his display, smoking cigars and keeping an eagle eye on his merchandise. He carried newspapers, magazines, comic books, cigarettes, cigars and candy bars. However, the items that I remember coveting were the huge, shiny red apples he kept by the cash registrar. Those enormous apples that were marked ten cents apiece fascinated me.
On many Saturday mornings, when I was twelve, during seventh grade, I had to transfer to the Brill streetcar. I rode it north to East McDowell Road where our dentist was located in the Grunow clinic. And every Saturday as I waited for the northbound trolley I paced back and forth in front of that newsstand and agonized. You see, I usually had the dime but I also had a voice in my head. That was the indignant voice of my mother declaring, “ Ten cents for an apple…who ever heard of such a thing? Why, you can buy a loaf of bread for ten cents” You see, our family had recently moved here from a little farm in the East that had a large apple orchard and I missed that luscious fruit.
So every Saturday, I went to the dreaded dentist and then agonized while waiting for the Capitol trolley to take me home again, always without a huge, scrumptious red apple.

Let’s Pretend
By
Gerry Niskern
If you recall, I wrote about my great-great-grand daughter’s Winter Concert last week. She loves to pretend and was enthralled when she attended her first live production with her dad on Thanksgiving weekend. From toddler age she has received tiny costumes from Santa and on birthdays too. She loved pretending and stretching her creativity to act out many scenarios.
Most kids love to perform and they need to be encouraged to take part in those activities . It helps them grow as individuals and even become leaders in the future.
I’m reminded of many trips years ago of my granddaughter and her four little kindergarten friends piling into the backseat of my convertible for a trip downtown to the Childrens Theatre. We left extra early because they coveted the front row seats. They knew the actors sometimes ventured into the audience. The girls also loved approaching the actors afterwards for autographs. Imagine, “the Prince or the Frog actually talked to them1”
A few years later, at another venue, the Phoenix Youth Theatre, this time it was the great-grandkids who were allowed to kneel in front and look down into the orchestra pit and watch the musicians. Once I was urged to “come see the “ really huge guitar” as they pointed out the bass fiddle.
When one of the great- g grandsons was four and everyone was clapping at the appropriate times during the performance, he insisted on pumping his fist and shouting “whoo, whoo, whoo1”. And when it was time for his rough and tumble younger brother’s time to attend a play, I was hesitant. He went down to the floor and proceeded to sit beside an older boy in a baseball uniform. But he didn’t move an inch during “Beaulty and the Beast”. He was mesmerized. Later, when I asked how he liked it, with big eyes, he replied, “I loved it!” Even tough guys can be melted.
If my great-great granddaughter lived in my town, we would be attending every performance, but who knows, maybe some day I will get to attend a performance of hers!