Back When It was Called William L. Ettinger, JHS 13 - 1968

That's me second from the right on the top.

Class Photo from 1964 - PS 170

That's my brother, Louis Green, second from the top right.

PS 170, Grad Pic 1963

My brother, Louis Green, is the handsome guy standing next to the teacher.

Graduation from Kindergarten

Even though I don't remember it, this certificate proves that I graduated from Kindergarten at PS 170.

Kind of tacky the way they stapled the picture on there though.

Lesson To Learn, Hard To Admit

We are all born innocent but none of us remain that way.  

My mother loved watching out her second kitchen window. People passing, friends waving and of course, the constant surveillance of her two young sons going through their antics in the playground seemed to keep her happy.   Hers was always a warm and familiar face up there at that second floor window.

Some of the only times that she was not at the window was when the insecticide machines were passing by to do their job. Each of these trucks had a huge blower mounted on its back portion.  I eagerly awaited their performance because to my young eyes they seemed like something out of a science fiction movie. The swivel based machine would twist and turn, up and down and from side to side, all in an effort to eradicate the dreaded vermin that lay hidden in the trees.

I vaguely remember there being some sort of loudspeaker announcement requesting that tenants close their windows while the trucks were doing their work.  Those of us living from the first to the fourth floors were the ones that the announcement was really for.  Many of the trees had been planted twenty or thirty yards away from the buildings and this closeness added to the beauty of the project complex that we lived in.  The spray was considered safe so that once the old fashioned, weakly secured windows were shut, the drenching that occurred as the pressurized spray passed through the trees and then onto the buildings, was negligible.

You've got to understand, the monster bug killers served a noble purpose since they were alleviating the nuisances that were eating through the leaves of the trees. But let's take a look at what they were spraying, shall we? 

Most likely the insecticide being used was DDT which was popular at that time. Starting in 1948, DDT was widely promoted as being deadly to insects yet not harmful to humans and animals.  

Years later, DDT was proved to be a carcinogen and harmful to all those who were exposed to it over periods of time.  Its use was ceased and it was taken off the market completely by 1972. 

Now when I look back on seeing the huge exterminators, back in the fifties and sixties, I can only shake my head.  I remember that some windows had remained open.  The tenants were probably not home or thought it didn't make a difference.  The flimsy windows that were in existence back then, even when closed, would allow some of the spray to get in anyway. 

Today, we are all aware of how big companies will boost their profits regardless of the health risks to others. But back then, we were all a lot more innocent and trusting.

Because of my love for my life in the projects, I tend not to want to believe that it was possible that there were people knowingly  spraying poison which was seeping into the apartments.  I'd rather just remember my mother's sweet smile as she watched us playing. 

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The Mean One

 Appearances are always deceiving. Look first with your eyes, close them, and then look with your heart.

Dyllon’s Law

March 1965 – Eleven Years Old

As I walked out the front door to my house, I knew it wasn't difficult to find my school; it was just a block away. I could even see it from my living room window. Public School 170 looked like an old building and that was because it was. I guessed that it had been there many, many years before Stephen Foster Projects had been built. To me, the school looked ancient.

I walked past the playground and I felt really good because today was picture taking day. I had on my Sunday suit and a starched white shirt. There were lots of kids and parents moving around the area but all were heading towards the school. I felt like others were looking at me in my suit and I tried not to scoff my shined shoes before I got there.

It would have been easy enough to walk in the entrance of the building that faced me on the 112^th Street side but I couldn't. That was the girl’s side. Funny how the boys could leave the school through the girl’s side after three o’clock but couldn't go in through there in the morning.  I guess the teachers thought we’d get too “excited” being with the girls early in the morning. I guess it was just a way of showing that the teachers had the control starting first thing in the morning.

As I walked around the corner of Lenox Avenue I thought back to last year when I used to walk to school with Louis. When I was in the fifth grade, we walked to school for the first few weeks.  Soon he split to be with his friends and I did the same. He had graduated in June and was now at William L. Ettinger, J.H.S. 13 on 106^th Street. I missed seeing him at school but by this September, I’d be going to Ettinger also.

Once I rounded the second corner, on 111^th Street, I could see the top floor windows of the school. They were shaped in the Gothic church style which reminded me of my church, St. Thomas the Apostle. It was on 118^th Street and St. Nicholas Avenue. I loved that building. My father, the Catholic, had taken my there every Sunday since I was born. Services there were always quiet and felt safe. By June 1964, I had been confirmed in the Catholic church. I guess that made me a full-fledged Catholic, whatever that meant. At twelve, I still believed that everybody was basically good and that good things would happen to good people. I also believed that God was everywhere, watching everything and was adding up points.

The rear entrance of 170 was a mirror image of the 112^th Street side. The four-story building was shaped like a huge “H” placed on its back. As I walked up the steps, into the bottom of the H, there was the familiar open area that we used for a playground. The cracked concrete made it even more obvious that the school had been here a long time. No one seemed to be concerned with repairing the courtyard. Maybe that was because of the talk that they were going to tear this school down and build a new one. Guess I’d see that from across the street but not while I was going to the school.

I found Darryl, Gregory and Eddie at the rear of the courtyard. Darryl was talking about the TV pictures that had come from the "Ranger 9" moon probe. He said the pictures were transmitted just before it crashed.  Of course I knew this already. Anything having to do with space travel, I was interested in.   I then changed the subject and talked about this cool movie I had seen called  “Goldfinger.” This guy had a lot of gadgets and a car that could do everything but fly.

As I spoke, the 8:15 bell sounded. It was time for us all to line up by class, before we walked into the school. There was Mrs. Petersen telling the boys in our class to straighten up. As we went in the building, I remembered that at the start of the term, in September, I actually felt scared. During the prior year, my brother and his friends talked about how mean their sixth grade teacher was. Her name was Mrs. Petersen. 

They said she was strict and would hit them with a ruler. She had the reputation of being the meanest teacher in the school.  I thought back to the end of June of last year. At the bottom of my fifth grade report card, it showed which sixth class I would be in and who would be my teacher. To my shock, I had gotten the mean one, old lady Petersen, for my next teacher! 

We filed into the building, then into our classes. As always, I sat quietly in class. At least I no longer had to make my eyes small in order to see the blackboard. A few months ago, I complained to my mother that it was hard for me to see the board. Suddenly I had these black framed glasses.  I was glad to be able to see but felt a little goofy in them. Except for one girl, nobody else in my class of about thirty people wore glasses. I already felt like I was a smaller kid, now I felt like the glasses made me seem a little weaker. I had picked up the nickname “professor” and I knew it applied because I was very interested in science. I took the name as a compliment but it just didn't seem cool.   

I had convinced myself that my class, just like the rest of the school, was broken up into two categories. The cool kids who were good at sports and had an easy time talking to others. Then there were the not so cool kids who were better at school work and uncomfortable when meeting new people. Of course my outlook was a lot more complicated than this but that pretty much covered sports and friendships.  It seemed that the more the cool kids pushed being “friendly”, the more they got in trouble in the class. While in the classroom, Mrs. Petersen had the control and her sharp words would immediately control the “friendliness.” When applying her direction, her voice sounded like she was grinding pebbles with her teeth. 

This particular day in class was boring though and Mrs. Petersen had few complaints. At least the afternoon was fun because we were finally called to pose for our graduating class pictures in the boy’s courtyard. 

Everybody looked so different in their dress up clothes. Nice clothes made us look more mature than we really were. I was surprised how good some of the girls looked in their crisp white blouses and neat skirts. Some even wore floral print dresses that made them look a lot older than they were. The guys were dressed in a variety of suits with the white folded handkerchief showing in the jacket pocket. I thought my suit looked good but some of the other ones looked better. Everybody looked neat, that is except for Burt. No matter what that poor guy did, he could never look dressed up. Even in a suit, he found a way to look sloppy.

After saying “cheese”, we returned to the class and in less than hour it would be 3:00 pm. Two guys were beginning to get out of their seats in anticipation. Mrs. Petersen had seen this and slapped down her ruler which made a cracking sound on her desk.

“Tony and Ernest! You boys better sit still” Mrs. Petersen said firmly and gave them a cold stare.

“I was just collecting my books, Mrs. Petersen,” Tony replied quickly.

He knew the others in class might think this was funny and he always seemed to have an answer for everything.

“You’re going to find yourself staying after class instead of enjoying your afternoon, if that’s what you want”   Mrs. Petersen said sharply.

Tony’s smile faded. He knew that the next words that he was about to say would change his afternoon. Mrs. Petersen didn't play. Tony had played this game before and he didn't like the way it ended. 

Tony backed down and quietly said, “No, Mrs. Petersen.”

A few of the girls in the class snickered softly. Mrs. Petersen jerked her head abruptly to the right towards the noise.

“Quiet until the bell rings” Mrs. Petersen shouted.

I expected the pebbles to fall out her mouth but I didn't see any. No one made another sound for the next fifteen minutes.

When the bell rang, everyone was excited but they slowly picked up their books and carefully  left their seats. Seemed like every one wanted to get out of class and change out of their dressy clothes.  That was except for Sam, David, Milton and I who stayed in our seats while everyone else left the classroom. We watched as the last of the students went through the classroom door.

After being in Mrs. Petersen’s class for a few months, I realized something. She was a strong Negro teacher in a class full of Negroes and Puerto Ricans. She wanted her students to do better, so she was harder on the ones that didn't try. In the beginning, my friends David, Milton and Sam and I would stay after school to help her set up for the next day. As time rolled by, Mrs. Petersen would set up special activities for us which were fun. These activities might be an arts and craft project or she might even have us trying to figure out hard math problems. She didn't have to worry about behavior problems. We wanted to be there. Most of the other kids would have thought that we were nuts but we were having a good time.  When I got to know I her, I realized that she was really a nice person. When I told my brother about this, he didn't understand. Staying after school with a teacher to him only meant that he had done something wrong.

I felt like I had grown to have a greater understanding about how people see other people.  What you see on the surface is not always what is going on inside a person. You have to take the time to listen and then listen again. People were not always what they seemed. Contrary to all the stories I had heard, I always remembered Mrs. Petersen as my favorite teacher. 

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Movies

Imagination fuels fear, and fear fuels the imagination. In some, this coupling can be the source of inspiration. In others, blind terror.

Dyllon's Law

 April 1960 - Seven Years Old

Whenever my mother said we were going to the movies, I was quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) jumping for joy. There were always so many different kinds to choose from, so I would never get bored. Mom would take Darryl and me to the theaters that were close to our house. These were the Regent and Morningside theaters, around 116th Street and 8th Avenue, but the better-looking theaters were the RKO and Loew’s at 125th Street. We either took the bus or train the single train stop or if it was a nice evening, we just walked the ten to twelve blocks. This time we took the train because it was a pretty cool evening.

Walking from the 116th Street station and Lenox to the 125th Street station seemed like a short distance unless it was snowing or raining heavily. We had gotten a few steps away from the station, and already the cold kept trying to find ways to sneak into my coat. 

As we walked up 125th Street toward 7th Avenue, I could see Blumstein’s department store, right across the street from the theater. Mom always went clothing shopping there and dragged me and Darryl along. Booorring. In terms of getting clothes for us though, Darryl and I had the same coats and pretty much the same clothes. Mom shopped with us together, and I was never big on being picky about styles. Darryl was starting to say what he liked, and between him and my mother, I got my selection of summer and winter wear.

Ahead of us, it was hard to miss the huge marquee running down the side of the building. The large black letters against the white background spelled out “LOEW’S.” Just a few doors past the movie, I could see the Apollo Theater. I heard that a lot of singers performed there. I knew that the Apollo didn't show movies, so it didn't interest me yet. When we got to the ticket booth, my mother’s long brown coat with the big black buttons kept flapping in the wind. She decided not to button it, but she held her coat closed as she made her purchase. As I stood with Darryl in the entryway, I looked at the small cards that showed scenes from the movie. Angry Red Planet filmed in CineMagic.

“What’s CineMagic?” I wondered.

The other small posters showed a spider-looking creature. The rest just showed people standing around in space suits. Hard to tell what the movie was about, but it didn't seem scary.

Last year we saw a lot of different kinds of movies. I was a glutton for all types of movies, but the ones that I liked the most were about science. We had seen Journey to the Center of the Earth, The 4-D Man, The Time Machine, The Brain from Planet Arous, and The Tingler. With good reason, I don’t remember much of The Tingler. I know it was about a guy who would pull something out of people’s backs when they got scared, but I couldn't tell for sure. Most of the movie, my head was either in my mother’s lap or my eyes were closed tight. 

I do remember seeing most of The Brain from Planet Arous though. The only times I closed my eyes was when they showed the big, floating alien brain, which had visible folds and two glowing eyes in the front. There was no way I was watching that thing and have nightmares for the next month. I kind of knew that the horror movies weren't real, but sometimes they seemed so real!

Once we got past the ticket booth, we walked toward the welcoming theater doors with the long handles. These doors were usually heavy and hard to open, but once in, we walked down the brown and red carpeting that led to the concession stand on the right. Mom let us pick out the candy that we wanted. I always liked to get Chuckles even though it stuck to my teeth. Darryl swore by his Red Hots.

We got our sweets and walked through the next set of double doors into the auditorium. The auditorium was really big. Between the balcony, mezzanine, and main floor, it seemed like a hundred people could have fit in there. When Mom told me that a couple of thousand people could fit, I almost didn't believe her. I wasn't sure how much a thousand was, but I knew it was a lot more than a hundred! The domed ceiling seemed as high as the sky. There was a circular pattern in the center of the dome with a pretty painting of a woman, but it’s hard to remember the detail. I always noticed the box seats on either side of the theater, but I never saw anybody sitting in them. It didn't make sense that anybody would want to see a movie from the side anyway. Sometimes we went to the second floor, where there was a place for people to sit, sort of like a lounge. It had its own big oval ceiling with a painted goddess whose hand was reaching out, almost like a 3-D effect. That looked a little scary but only a little. I was happy when we got past it and went to our seats. 

This time, my mother decided to stay on the first floor and there were lots of seats. We sat about five rows from the screen. My brother was all excited about being able to get good seats. It did make it easier to see when you were not trying to look over other people’s heads, but I wasn't sure if being so close to any monsters was such a good idea. Mom would sit there during the scary parts and I’d hear her quietly say, “Lord, God.” My brother was always brave. Nothing seemed to bother him. He even said that he liked the bloody parts. I thought to myself that maybe when I was older, I’d be brave like that, but it wasn't going to be today.

I liked the seats they had in this theater. They were covered with some kind of red velvet that was really soft. I didn't like the way the wooden arm would get in my way when I was trying to get to my mother though. When I was five, I would climb into her lap when the scary parts started. I was too big for that now or at least I felt that I should be too big. Covering my face and leaning to her lap for protection seemed okay though. I was thinking about how scared I was when I saw The Fly, back in ’58 and the lights started to dim.

I braced myself, as I always did, not knowing if they would start the movie with something really frightening. There were a lot of rocket ships and scientific stuff that seemed interesting, but to me The Angry Red Planet was really not that scary. Between the bat-rat-spider, which looked like a puppet, and the big fish-monster, which came out of the water and had an eyeball spinning around, it got to be corny. The “CineMagic” effect just meant they colored the film an orange-brown tint whenever the crew was on Mars. This was supposed to make it look strange, but most times it just looked out of focus and distracting. 

One part of the movie that did bother me, though, was when the man’s arm fell out from beneath the sheet. His hand to his elbow was covered with a jelly-like substance. Later, back on Earth, the man had bandages that started from his hand, and then went all the way to his shoulder. It was really bulky between his elbow and his shoulder. You couldn't see the jelly stuff, but it was obvious where this was going. For some reason, as I sat there in the dark, this was scaring me out of my mind! I was clutching the chair arm and grimacing. I knew it would be ridiculous to show that I was scared because they weren't showing anything but bandages on a guy’s arm. I held my breath until the movie ended, which fortunately was soon.

After the short train ride back home, Darryl and I were, of course, sitting on our beds talking about the movie. At the young age of seven, I had an “Aha!” moment. You know. When you suddenly realize something clearly for the first time and it really makes sense. To my first-grade mind, this fact hit me like a ton of bricks. Yeah, I was scared of the monsters and gross things that I could see, but I was also scared of the things that I couldn't see. And why was I scared of something that I couldn't see? Because I thought there was supposed to be something to be afraid of. I knew the man in the movie only had a bandage on his arm, but my fear made me think there was green, slimy jelly growing into his skin, causing his flesh to melt away. I had heard the word “imagination” about a year before, and now it started to make some sense.

Darryl agreed this was probably true, but I wasn't sure he caught what I was meaning. It was hard enough for me to try to make myself understand it. I couldn't wait to see another scary movie to see if it was the movie scaring me or just me scaring myself. Mom told us it was time for bed, so Darryl turned off the light. I understood that there was nothing there in the dark to scare me, but I made certain to pull the sheets and woolen blanket all the way over my head. I needed protection from whatever wasn't there, trying to get me. I could hear my brother laughing at me, but I didn't care. Better safe than sorry.

Check out the book "Reflections of EL: In Search of Self" and others at Endlessperceptions.com.