RUDIMENTS, pt. 1124
(the little boy's mind) pt. 1
Way back when, I suppose
it was about 1957 maybe
1958, before they changed
the arc of Route One up
by Newark Airport, we used
to pass it often on our way
to Bayonne. Having moved
to Avenel, I don't think my
father ever got the feel for
the 'suburban' ethos, at first
anyway. All that urban stuff
he'd grown up with stayed
with him. Having grown up
without 'parents' - fostered
and moved around - his
urban and Bayonne strictures
remained. He'd call my
Grandmother (my mother's
mother) Mama. His mother,
long out of reach, was in
an asylum. He'd trim my
Grandmother's toenails, do
the sort of household things -
in her tiny but gracious and
old Bayonne apartment -
that sons do. We were always,
it seemed visiting, back to
Bayonne. Over time, it all
became just odd and funny,
watching my father's slow
transformation to his newer,
suburbanized, living; but
more on that later.
-
Passing north up Route One,
leaving Rahway to enter Linden,
the first two things I'd see (Merck
was there too, college-campus
like, but corporate, and it came
first, but somehow I never took
note), were, one one side (south
lane) the huge GM plant, where
so many worked, and, across
from it, Linden Airport. Those
two places being in proximity
with each other was no accident,
because during WWII the work
and the production of the GM
plant was turned over to tanks
and planes and war things, and
they were simply taken across
the road (somehow), to the airport
and carted (flown) away. All of the
production and materiel had been
converted to wartime status. 12
years or so later, looking at the
old airport (Linden), all of that
was still quite evident (all of this
is gone now and a mere strip is left,
lfor small planes and helicopters,
in fact it's now Airport Shopping
Center or something of that nature).
There were wooden (everything was
wooden, and 1920's old), whitewashed
work shacks and hangers, lining the
highway - their backs turned to the
highway. All the doors and bays faced
inward, and the airport itself had its
own little roads and gasoline alleys,
of the sort some mad tinkerer of the
Wright Brothers type would think
of a Kitty Hawk paradise. Wind socks
and weathervanes; drives and garages.
-
I loved all that, and could never wait
to see it, in passing, again. The GM
plant had gone back to building cars.
I forget, maybe Pontiacs? Or Buicks?
Everyone who 'needed' a job, or who'd
married early, skipping college (college
wasn't yet a common thing; today it's
basically grades 13, 14,15, and 16, for
the sock-hat crowd). The whole idea
of money was different too. People
worked. Quite simply; they needed
food on the table, and curtains. The
GM plant had numerous shifts, and
there was one shift that let out about
3:30pm, and there were times, with
Linden Traffic Police coverage, that
it caused great back-ups of drivers
and cars coming, going, and waiting.
It often seemed dreary, whenever that
happened - and back in those days
before, as I said, Route One was
changed and widened and modernized,
most especially up by Newark Airport,
the line of traffic-jams was often long
and tedious. In addition, right at the
area where Merck and the Rheem
Corporation (hot-water heaters) faced
each other, the natural low-spot there,
in big rain storms, always flooded.
Numerous were the times that cars
would be ruined, lost, or abandoned,
in two-feet of sudden water. My friend,
Ken Walker, who may have worked
at Merck too, was always grumbling
about that, later, as a commuter. I
myself, in the early 80's lost a Dodge
Caravan to that same sort of water
problem, but on Elizabeth Ave., by
the GM Diner, entering Rahway,
running south from Linden. Same
deal. I had an engine replacement
done, but the car was never the
same, and the other damage, in
about a year, was to the suspension
units, sway bars, all the front units.
A real waste of water (that's my
play on words).
-
So, as it was, I loved old Linden
Airport. It was a sight, and it
always brought me images of
leather air-caps and all those
gritty and harsh early flyers who
made due with their own bravado
and their captivity to ideas, strength,
and brawn. Mechanical things and
the people who can do that stuff
have always fascinated me. I've
know guys who could take an
engine apart, rebuild and replace
it all nicely, in, oh, say, four days.
Of night work, with beer and some
pretzels, after their day job. Amazing.
That kind of approach takes grit and
the daring to not be afraid. Few people
are like that anymore. My father, for
instance, as part of his 'suburban-days'
turnaround, always had an engine hoist
in the yard, at the top of the driveway,
through the 1950's anyway; tinkering
and buying, I still can recall, 80-dollar
Dodges and DeSotos, and removing
engines, changing parts and bearings
and all, and putting it all back together,
outside no less!, to either use as the
temporary family car or somehow
re-sell for 400 dollars. He was an
upholsterer as well, in the basement,
with other projects, and had always
to be mindful not to mix up the
two endeavors; oil and grease
on hands or tools being ruinous
to chairs, sofas, and fabrics.
-
On the road here, getting up past
Linden Airport, right next to the
GM plant, too, was a gin factory,
Gordon's Gin, and another place
that made instant coffee. I think
it was called Tenneco or something
like that. Never heard about them.
Mixing business with pleasure,
guys would make cars and fly,
under the influence of gin, and
then have a cup of coffee, so as
to get the headlights on straight.
Really though! It was a living!
So....getting up old Rt. One, at
the grand curve by the older and
smaller than today's Newark Airport,
there used to be a sign on the road,
at the curve, that said 'Welcome To
Newark, City of Science!' - and
it showed some test tubes, a guy
or two in a lab coat, and some
chemical symbols and some energy
lines. I never knew what to make
of any of that, but I always liked it.
It had, at its base, the 'signature and
photo of 'Hugh Addonizio, Mayor.'
Newark was famous for Addonizio,
and the Newark mob, and the grand
corruption and Mayoral graft that
rules all these dirty NJ towns and
cities, but Newark took the cake.
Addonizio eventually got nabbed,
did time, etc. Maybe he even died in
prison, I forget. But, no matter; and
some Science, for sure. He's probably
lucky no one rubbed him out. I
recall how, years later, I saw Ken
Gibson, Newark's first black (and
first corrupt black too) Mayor. I
was at the NJ Historical Society's
headquarter's Library, and, right
next door he was entering the
studios of WGBH, Newark's
long-famed black, jazz station.
This was post-Mayoral for him,
and he arrived as an eminence,
out from a limousine with a
driver. Gibson was dressed
to the nines, suit, scarf, and all
the rest, with an entourage of
tough-looking guards and
posse types. It was almost
funny, but not. Corruption
rules the crooked roost, jazzy
or not.
-
I never knew what any of this
did to my head, but my young-boy
mind sure got rattled. At 9 or 10
years old I could no longer get
the connection between rightness,
and science, and success, and work.
It all seemed, to me, to be dirtied
and corrupt, sleazy and false.
What good was this world, if it
was crap and lies and deceit;
until you got caught - then it
was an oversight, a mistake, and
something one 'regretted.' Get in
the cell, you shithead.
things I remember. Take note of your surrpundings, observe and register everything, say what's on your mind - if you don't you'll only wind up saying it anyway, in some other manner. See as much as you can. What you can't see, see again.
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