“On This Corner” # 4

By

Gerry Niskern

A gray granite building stands on the southeast corner of Central Ave and Monroe. Back in the l940’s, if your mother took you to the doctor or dentist, chances are his office was in that multi-storied Professional building that was the pride of valley residents.

When I was growing up in Phoenix the lobby of the Valley National Bank occupied that corner space.

I loved to make the trip uptown on the streetcar with mom when she deposited my dad’s paycheck. Together we pushed open the massive beveled glass and brass doors to the bank lobby. Polished marble covered the floor and walls of the elegant room with breathtaking high ceilings.

I don’t know why, but everyone spoke in hushed tones. While she waited in line for a teller, I clicked my heels across the marble floor to my favorite spot. I stood in front of a large wall mounted relief map of Arizona. I studied the mountains and valleys of our state with fascination because each town was designated by a gemstone. I longed to reach out and touch the red, blue and green stones and remember stealing furtive glances at the white haired bank guard who always stood beside the map. I thought his job was to guard those stones in the map!

The personnel offices for the bank were on one of the upper floors. I applied for my first job there. The Valley National Bank turned out to be a great place to work in the early l950’s.  There were only a couple of drawbacks. During Rodeo time when the vigilante for the Jaycees came up to “arrest” any of the girls who were not in western wear during rodeo week. They didn’t hesitate to drag out the girls who were hiding in the restroom.  Also, the vice-president requested a kiss from each of the girls in the office when he passed out their paychecks twice a month. Needless to say, the MeTooMovement hadn’t been heard of back then!

Years later,  my little toddler and I pushed open the heavy glass doors together.  I carried a heavy paper sack full of pennies from her piggy bank into the lobby. We were there to open her first savings account. But this time, I stood in line while she wandered over to look at the brilliant map. I was happy to see the same white-haired guard was still there guarding my precious stones!

I wrote this several years ago when the sculpture was first installed. Soon after ASU opened a  downtown campus and students could be seen relaxing and enjoying the grassy spot below “Her name is patience”. Now, I’ve just learned my great-granddaughter will be attending classes at the ASU Nursing School. I’m sure she will be enjoying the beautiful and unique sculpture too.!

“The Sky is Blooming!”

By

Gerry Niskern

Have you seen it? The sky is blooming in downtown Phoenix. The city workers just installed the floating sculpture, by Janet Echelman, over the new Civic Space that’s North of Van Buren between 1^st Avenue and Central.

“Sky Bloom”, as we’ve grown accustomed to calling the art piece that is 100 feet wide, stands about 100 feet in the air.  It’s official name is “Her secret is patience,” from an Emerson poem.

Turns out the title is appropriate since the installation was delayed a few times. The first attempt to install the 600 pounds of flexible netting was aborted when it was discovered it didn’t fit the two steel rings to which it would be attached. It was sent back for refitting.

Then this morning, the day before Easter, as the crew gathered, heavy rain started. Later the sun came thru and caught the variegated colors of blue as the wind moved and shaped the ever changing sculpture as it was installed by daring young men in buckets on very long booms!

My resident historian and I drove down and watched. Of course, there was some grumbling from my partner on the way. “It will never go over with the public. They better sew an address tag on it.  The  state that it blows to will know where to send it back”

We’ve all heard the numerous complaints from the naysayers. “The city should have just put up a shade screen over the park!” and “It’s going to rot in the sun; won’t last ten years and it will have to be replaced!”

I had heard the same kind of complaining at home when the city announced the Light Rail project.  “They’re just streetcars. We had them before and never should have gotten rid of them”. The grumbling continued. “The sculpture money should have been spent on other things”. Of course, he really knows that the money was not part of the General Fund and was set aside for the Arts and had to be used for that.

Phoenix joins many cities around the world who have commissioned Echelman to create large, fabric sculptures to enhance their public spaces.  Google her, if you haven’t already, and learn about the other cities and see the other iconic pieces she has created.

Light from the sun and synthetic light by night casts line drawings on those underneath and passersby, making them an active part of the piece. And as one young man was heard to pronounce, “At least it’s not another statue of a dead guy”.

No matter where you live in the valley, come to downtown Phoenix and see our “sky in bloom”.

Take the streetcar.

“My Mother, the Investment  Banker”

by

Gerry Niskern

Have you been to your bank lately? Do you even know where your bank is located this week? Whether you live in Paradise Valley or Peoria, It’s hard to keep track of your money when the name of your bank changes as often as Arizona’s spring weather.

My mother, like the mothers in most families, controlled the purse strings. When I was a child I loved to accompany her to the Valley National  Bank at the corner of Central Avenue and Monroe in downtown Phoenix. There were no handy branch banks anywhere in the valley nor had anyone heard of  “drive-in banking.”

Together, we pushed the ten-foot high polished brass door open. The entire inside bank lobby was shining marble. I was allowed to wander around, heels clicking on the slick floor, while the adults conducted their business in hushed tones. I invariably headed straight for the large copper topographic map of Arizona mounted on one wall. A different precious gem marked each town.   Just as I was getting up the nerve to reach out and touch one of the beautiful stones, Mom was ready to leave.

She meticulously counted out her bills and never failed to remind me that her mother, my grandmother, had always kept her money pinned in a handkerchief to her apron pocket. It was handy to pay the insurance man when he came to collect on her nickel life insurance policies each week. Also, Grandma could easily slip a few dollars to a newly married son who had been laid off at work.

Distrust of banks seemed to run in her family. My grandma and grandpa both had long suspected the other of hoarding secret savings. Try as they might, neither could find the other’s loot. One morning before dawn, the smell of smoke filled the neighborhood. Seeing the haystack on fire, Grandma, nightgown flapping behind, set a new record for the hundred-yard dash. She grabbed a pitchfork and rescued her cache of bills hidden deep in the hay. After that she had to find a new hiding place.

As the years went by and I left home, the task of banking for the small family business was my mother’s.  One day, at my urging, she decided to try the new drive-thru window. She had her deposit slip all filled out. She pulled in and reached for the shiny new cylinder. She turned it this way and that way. She twisted the top…looked for a slot in the side. Finally, in frustration, she told us later, she put the can back in its’ place, backed her car out and went home.

Mom was willing to try anything once. When the new ATM machines were installed in front of the bank she gave it a whirl. She inserted her card and withdrew twenty dollars. When the twenty came forward in the slot she decided to be very efficient and record it in her checkbook first. Then, as she reached for the twenty, it was just disappearing back into the slot. The pushed to withdraw twenty dollars again. This time she got her money, but the receipt read twenty dollars overdrawn!

A few years later on cold, blustery day Mom decided it would be a convenient time to give the drive through window another chance. The transaction went well. When her cylinder came back with the cash from her check, she inadvertently grabbed it by the catch and dropped it. Bills flew off in the wind and coins rolled everywhere. She pulled forward in order to get out of the car and then crawled on her hands and knees to retrievthe cash. She placed the forlorn cylinder, totally flat after being crushed by her rear tire, back on the stand and drove off midst the blare of car horns.

After that incident, she was heard to remark, “Maybe keeping your money pinned in your apron pocket wasn’t such a bad idea after all!”

As told to me

By

Gerry Niskern

During the time that we were remodeling our house, he always wanted to know exactly how each section was done.When he was five he demanded that his Grandpa tell him exactly what electricity looked like. He alwaysarrived with a book in hand and brought a carry on full of books when invited him on a trip to the beach.

Therefore, I wasn’t surprised when great-grandson # 1 wanted to tell me about an opportunity and moving experience. He is finishing up his third year of medical school and doing his Ob/Gyn rotation.

“ It was an unplanned delivery. The Mom had eclampsia which means her blood pressure was dangerously high. They rushed her over to the hospital from her office visit. She was almost full term so it wasn’t too early.

Doctor let me do more this time than he did the last C-section. I helped tear the abdominal muscles apart so we had access to the uterus. Once we had the amniotic sac in view he let me break the water. The sac was like a giant malleable water balloon and the membrane was soft and jellylike. It broke very easily. Probably could have just done it by pinching it. It was very memorable because when you break it warm slippery fluid gushes forth and covers everything including my hands. We wear big water proof booties for protection that go up to the knees.

The most surreal part is that the mom is awake during the whole thing…just chatting away with the anesthesiologist at the head of the table while we’re rooting around in her abdomen. Jammed down on her upper abdomen to help push the baby out.

Doc quickly handed it to me once he had it out, and jokingly said to me. “Don’t drop the baby!” I took it over to the baby station while it cried. I was very careful. The baby just felt warm. Not slippery or wiggly. It just felt alive!

Spent the next hour sewing all the layers back up. Everything went well and everyone is healthy. At the end the Mom was doped up on drugs while we cleaned her up. She told me I’ll be a good doctor. Haha.”

I think she’s right.

What do you think?

By

Gerry Niskern

House bill 2158, sponsored by Rep. Shawnna Bolick, a Phoenix Republican, would exempt food intended for home consumption from being taxed by municipalities. Supporters of the bill argue that food is a necessity and should not be taxed. “Food is needed for survival”.

When I read about this new bill I thought immediately of the scenario that played out every two or three days when I was a kid. (Some of you may recall this story). My mother always gave me dime to run to the Bayless grocery store, across from the State Capitol, to get a loaf of  bread. I dreaded those trips.

“But mom,” I’d argue, “It is eleven cents. There is a penny tax. And the lady cashier gets real mad when I don’t have the penny for tax.” Mom would just say,” You just go right on over there and when she says it’s eleven cents tell her your mother didn’t give you the penny. Don’t those people know that it is a sin to tax the daily bread?”

That red headed cashier and I went thru the same stand off each time I went for a loaf of bread. She always finally relented and let me buy the bread after I was thoroughly humiliated. I’m sure I was developing a good moral character and strong fortitude, but I didn’t appreciate it at the time.

The new bill will affect small towns mostly because they need the tax on food for their tax base planning. Arizona’s three largest cities Phoenix, Tucson and Mesa don’t tax food. It was eliminated in the l980s.

House Bill 2158 has not been heard in committee yet, but I’m with you Rep. Shawnna Bolick. “It’s a sin to tax our daily bread.”

What do you think?

Did Your Grandma wear an Apron?

By

Gerry Niskern

I recently read a great history of aprons by John Scanlon.

It started me thinking about all the things my Grandma used her apron for when I was a kid.

I don’t remember ever seeing her without an apron that had a bib and and reached to her shoes. She limped from an injury during the birth of her thirteenth child. Maybe to also  cover her gait as she walked?

She made her aprons from feed sacks. In those days, chicken feed came in really large sack of colorful calico prints. Her apron came in handy to gently carry eggs in from the coop and apples in from the orchard. She used as a pot holder when pulling her wonderful loaves of bread from the oven, every day. That’s right, every day! She wrapped it around her arms when she stepped outside for a minute on a cold winter day too.

But the most important feature of Grandma’s apron was the deep pocket on the right side. On payday at the mine she was always seated on a stool by the back door. When Grandpa and my uncles living at home came home from the coal mine they were expected to drop  their pay which was cash into her pocket.

My mother wore an apron only occasionally. She’d put one on over a good dress, but it usually only tied at the waist. She was an active woman who would have been hampered by an apron most of the time. When she and my dad started their Cooler Supply Company in later years, and she was running the small manufacturing section and waiting on customers, her apron days were over.

I’ve had two really special “stand out” aprons in my lifetime. Once, when we had finished redecorating our home in all white, carpet, furniture and walls with turquoise, mauve and black accent pillows and paintings, I received a beautiful apron. My good friend, my first art instructor, arrived on the day of our annual Christmas party with that apron she had sewn for me to match the jewel tones in our home.

The other precious apron made especially for me by my mother was to wear when I was first studying painting. Some watercolors when accidently flicked onto white jeans (which I wore a lot back then) absolutely would not come out. She surprised me with a bib apron that provided great coverage from shoulders to the top of my shoes. And it had a large pocket in the front, just like Grandma’s. Great for brushes!

“Let me call you Tweetheart”

By

Gerry Niskern

There are red hearts and Cupids everywhere you go. The stores are bursting with chocolates in heart shaped boxes, teddy bears with red bows, and tons of jewelry.  I remember receiving a gold heart locket on Valentine’s Day years ago. I still wear it with the photos of two sweethearts inside.

It’s even easier today for a young man to select a Valentine for his love. He can go online and order any type of Valentine he wants. Doesn’t even have to leave the house. Actually, maybe that’s the problem.

I can’t tell you who is buying the Valentines this year, but I can tell you who isn’t.  The Millennials And Gen. Z too!  That crowd is having none of it. According to statistics a large percentage of their age span has opted out of the entire commitment idea. Dinner and a movie are out and “non-dates” are in.

When a guy wants to see a girl he texts her with a tender message such as, “What’s up” or “Want to join me and some of my friends at the local hangout?” What girl wouldn’t want to hear a romantic invitation like that?

The days of courtship where you actually picked up the phone and asked someone for a date are over. That required an investment of considerable thought, planning, and investment of ego. Today’s convenience of texting, tweeting and e-mail did away with the need for even a little charm.

Guys don’t waste time on long expensive first dates. Dinner at a romantic new restaurant? Scratch that. The woman is lucky to get a tweet to meet up somewhere. The long “get acquainted” first date is no longer necessary. He already knows all about her from Facebook and Google.

The “Hook-up” champion of the campus has carried his habits into his supposedly adult life. Now he’s afraid a formal request for a date will send the wrong message. It might say he’s getting too serious, way too soon. And if he did want to buy some jewelry on Valentines Day for the woman he’s been “meeting up” with for weeks, the Millennium man is hesitant to make the purchase. It’s his lose

Back when Cupid was alive and going strong, my number one son was in first grade He saved his pennies for a long time in order to buy a tiny Valentines box of Whitmans with two chocolates inside for the little red-haired girl in his class. Now that kid wasn’t afraid of commitment!

This story about Eva, my mother, is one I never get tired of telling

VALENTINE’S DAY, 1922

Around ten-thirty on Saturday morning there was a loud knocking on the front door. Eva slammed the hot iron down on the trivet and hurried into the living room. “It’s probably that delivery boy from Darwishes grocery store again. He’s already been here twice this morning,” she fumed. “I am never going to get done with Sophie’s work blouses.  I need that quarter that she always gives me for pressing them! Mom will let me go to the movies tonight with Ruby if I have enough money.”

She had already mopped the kitchen floor that morning and then helped her mother do some clothes on the scrub board.  Eva was just glad it was Saturday and she didn’t have to drag the big tubs into the kitchen and fill them with hot water for her dad, a coal miner, to wash the black grim away.

It wasn’t good to be the youngest of six girls in a big family. Her older sisters were all working and it fell on her to help their mother, who had been left crippled after the birth of Harry, the baby of the family.  Of course, the younger brothers were no help at all.

While she was out in the yard hanging the clothes on the line, Walter, the Russian man who was courting Annie, had been teasing her about being the only one in the family that didn’t have a boyfriend sending fancy valentine hearts. He was helping her dad hoe the garden while they discussed the union meeting last night at the mine. “Boy, he must really love Annie; he’s even helping dad hoe” she thought.

Earlier that morning she had trudged upstairs twice, careful to avoid her mother’s hot pies for Sunday dinner, cooling on the narrow wooden steps. Those first two  beautiful heart shaped boxes of candy to arrive that day were for Sophie and Sarah from their current beaus. Just thinking of all that chocolate candy made her mouth water.

This time the boy called out “Delivery for Katherine Gunto” as he handed Eva a red satin box.  As she pushed open the bedroom door again, she saw the usual Saturday morning activity. Her sisters were all working and were happy to have the weekend off. They were laughing and trading dresses and secrets. Some were busy washing their hair over a tub of heated  rain water to be styled later with their curling irons heating downstairs on the coal stove. “Oh, this is from Paul. He wants to see me this evening,” her sister Kate bragged. That was the last straw. Angry tears welled in Eva’s eyes.  It wasn’t fair. Her childhood playmate was deserting her for a boyfriend!

The next box that came was for her older sister Annie. Annie was a young widow, with two little girls. She had moved back home with her folks after her husband was killed.   This valentine, of course, was from Walter. He had already asked her to marry him. He loved Annie’s girls and they adored the kind red-haired Russian.

Later, as Eva was washing the dishes, there was another demanding banging on the front door. She wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door just as the boy announced loudly, “Delivery for Eva Gunto!” Then he laid a large golden heart tied with a gold satin ribbon, the largest valentine box that she had ever seen, into her arms.

Slowly, in a fog of bewilderment, she carried the box into the kitchen and reverently placed it on the table. “Come see what Eva has,” her mother called to everyone. They all gathered around and watched as their little sister opened the most elegant box that had come to the house that day.  “Who is it from?” demanded Katherine.

“Why would anyone send her a valentine?”

“Strange, it doesn’t have a card.” Sophie chimed in after checking it over. For the first time in her young life in that big family, she was the center of attention, and even a little envy. Her twelve-year-old ego was getting a huge boost.

When Walter came to take Annie out that evening, he asked “Well, Evie, so who’s the secret beau? And what does your dad think about all this?”

“Look Out! The Green Wave is Coming!”

By

Gerry Niskern

The wave is full of danger. If you have been trying to lose those extra Christmas pounds, look out. There are Thin Mints, Tagalongs, Samores, and a new cookie this year called something like “Salted Carmel”.

Some of the girls still come door to door, but you will usually find them set up in front of your grocery store or other local businesses. You can even buy the cookies online, but you have to have an app on your phone to order from a specific girl on her phone. Yes, Girl Scouts have Smart phones today!

When I belonged to troupe # 11, here in Phoenix in l942,   I was excited at the prospect of selling cookies door to door. They were plain vanilla with the Girl Scout emblem imprinted on the top. My mother said “Absolutely not! I won’t let you ask our neighbors to buy a box of cookies for 25 cents that they can buy for ten cents at the store.” If nothing else, my mother had her ethics!

Sure you can find less expensive cookies, but why not support the organization that develops girls of courage, confidence and character worldwide?

I was in fifth grade at Jackson School when Girl Scout troop # 11 was formed. The year was l942. The leader’s name was Miss Curlee, the second grade teacher. She was young and pretty when the other teachers all looked to be over 100 to this fifth grader. Our dues were 2 cents per week.

My main Christmas present that year was a Girl Scout uniform. Since I was the only one in our troop with an official uniform, I was allowed to represent Troop 11 on the horse drawn Girl Scout wagon in the annual Rodeo parade along with other girls from other ten troops in the entire Phoenix area. We were standing and it was a bumpy ride.

Among other duties, Scouting in l943 found us helping to direct people and baby sitting while citizens signed up for ration books for shoes, meat and sugar at our school throughout the year on weekends.

There were no cookie sales that year. They were suspended until after the war.

The highlight of the year in 44’, seventh grade, was earning the square dance badge. Our leader said she would let all the boys in 7^th grade know they were welcome to come and learn square dancing along with us. I decided to invite my own date. He came to pick me up on his red Schwin bike and rode me home after the dance. He was  my resident historian when I was writing my column for the Arizona Republic all those years later.

Girl Scouts promise “to help other people at all times” and that you will love their cookies!

In recent years I had come to dread that question. Friends would ask how my Christmas was and then proceed to tell about taking their entire family on a Christmas Cruise, skiing in Colorado, and so on….you get the picture.

Christmas was pretty low key in my family, but a lot of fun too. When  the grandkids came along I started having a small pre-Christmas party early in December with lots of old fashioned party Igames and a big pot of Chalupa,

However,  this year, due to some crazy health incidents,I wasn’t up to giving the party. You have all heard me complain (ok, whine) about being sidelined for several months. I was eventually able to do a little shopping for our family gift exchange at my daughter’s and son # 2 and his wife offered to pick me up.

This holiday turned out to be one of the best. The light were fantastic on the homes. The Christmas concerts were all beautiful on television. The personal notes from friends and cousins on cards meant more to me this year, The video I received of my little l8 month old great-great granddaughter doing her best to march to the beat of her brother’s school orchestra and even better a movie of her trudging thru her first snowfall looking a little excited but perplexed?

Son # 1 had crazy work hours this year and the two  of us celebrated Christmas on the Saturday before. Dinner was at six o’clock and we were still sitting at the table talking at 2:30 A. M.!

# 2 great-grandson, home from college on Christmas break insisted we go for a kind of New Years lunch. I thought he would get busy and forget about it, but he persisted and we had a wonderful lunch and came home and talked and shared some tangerines from my tree. We touched on every subject under the sun.

His older brother, #1, a third year medical  student in Pennsylvania called me and we talked for an hour out of his hectic schedule of rotations! He filled me in on his classes and experiences; I couldn’t have received a better gift.

At one time or another, almost everyone told me they missed my old fashioned Christmas party this year and said they were looking forward to it next year.

So, thanks  for asking, I had a wonderful Christmas.