21 Years On The Erie Railroad

A few weeks after moving into my room on West Blvd., Cleveland, Ohio, I felt secure enough to start looking around the city. At first, it was bewildering, but as I became more used to the heavy traffic and the large crowds, I began to enjoy finding new neighborhoods to explore.

In those days, and I'm talking about 1947, Cleveland was a really thriving city. I had started collecting records at age 16 while in high school, so one of the first things I did was search out record stores. I found a beauty; Record Rendezvous on Prospect Avenue. It became my second home. I made friends with one of the managers and a few of the clerks; they started pointing things out for me, also picking out new releases as they came into the store. I once went too wild, because at the end of one buying spree, I discovered that I was almost out of money, and pay day 10 days away.

For five days I actually lived on bread and water. Once in awhile, one of the fellows at work would invite me into the station's restaurant for coffee and donuts, which, in my condition, was manna from heaven. After getting my next pay, I made the resolve that a bank account would be opened, and that I never again would live on bread and water. I have kept my resolve, even though I have come close to bread and water a few more times in my life.

Since I had no kitchen where I boarded, I had to eat all my meals out. At first, I would ride the Detroit Avenue street car into Public Square, walk to East 9th Street and visit The Forum, a cafeteria. It was a very good place to eat. I hope it is still in business. One day, while walking around my neighborhood, I ran across a truly fine little restaurant named Palmina's. It was located on Detroit Avenue, about a block from my room. It was an Italian restaurant, with terrific service and a friendly staff. It, also, soon became another home-away-from-home. I truly do hope that it is still in business, because it surely was a fine place to eat.

In those days, Cleveland had outstanding public transportation. The rapid transit system ran into The Terminal from the East. In my neighborhood, I could catch a Detroit Avenue street car into Public Square every 20 minutes until, I think, midnight. After midnight, the street car ran every 30 minutes. I, also, could cross over a foot bridge that went over the Nickel Plate Railroad tracks and catch a Madison Avenue car into Public Square. On rush hours, the transit system would hook trailers, heated by charcoal in cold weather, to the regular street cars. One really did not need an auto in those days unless he really was in a hurry, or had a hot date. I would buy a weekly pass for, I believe, $1.50, which entitled me to ride anywhere on the system, and never leave the car. In fact, some of the homeless actually did buy a pass and spend their nights inside on a street car.

There was a fine ballroom at West 25th Street and Clark Avenue, called, I think, the Aragon Ballroom. The ballroom drew the name bands once in awhile. I danced to Vaughn Monroe there, also Hal McIntyre and Elliott Lawrence. I felt sorry for McIntyre and Lawrence. The polka-mad Clevelanders actually booed both bands.

On thinking back, I once was almost run over in traffic on Madison Avenue. I was heading into the city, had missed my Detroit Avenue car, so decided to walk over to Madison Avenue and catch that car. Anyway, I started to cross the street to reach the car stop, and what did I spy but one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen? She appoached, and actually made me stop dead in my tracks, right in the middle of busy Madison Avenue. Horns started blowing, and I almost stepped into the path of an approaching automobile. I never saw her again, but she is remembered.