Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself – Part VII

Ranney School was a highly competitive prep school.  Students attending since the lower grades tackled subject matter that most public schools did not introduce until high school.  For example, Ranney elementary school students were offered Algebra and Geometry before the fifth grade. They were also taught the basics of Chemistry and Physics by then.  I found this to be truly amazing.  These were very bright children, who received a strong foundation in basic education, especially when they were enrolled at Ranney in Kindergarten or first grade.

For me, Ranney School was a struggle.  After a full day of intense learning, I was
facing two to four more hours of intense homework.  What made things even more difficult for me was that this was my parents and sister were unable to help me with the academically advanced courses that I was taking.  When extra help was needed, the best I could do was call a friend or wait to see a teacher in the morning.

As difficult as The Ranney School was, I was very proud to be a student there.  I immediately recognized and appreciated the quality education I was receiving and knew it would be helpful to me in my college years.  The school offered its students comfortable facilities.  Our classes were small; our teachers were
competent and dedicated; and several of my fellow students were friendly and
fun to be around (except for a few elitist snobs). 

Funny, I never wanted to be an “Ivy League” type of snob.  You know the ones with the affected speech, who seem to measure every word.  We had many of those at Ranney, but my parents and I believed that high energy and a fiery personality were the keys to business success in later life.  We were always more impressed with sharp salespeople than reserved types.

Unfortunately, there was one disappointing aspect of the school that I didn’t care much for.  My classmates came from two counties and it was difficult to get together with them after school hours.  So, my “old friends” – loneliness and boredom – returned to me on Taylors Mills Road.  The good news – if you could call it that – was that there was so much homework to deal with that there wasn’t much free time available for Ranney students during the school week.

For the past few years, I had been going to Englishtown Auction Sales with my parents on Saturdays.  They needed me as a lookout for shoplifters and to sell some of their less expensive items such as door mats, wall tapestries and carpet
remnants.  Mom and dad would pay me twenty-five dollars for the day, so I would have some extra spending money and savings (remember, I was a saver).

Englishtown Auction was a very interesting place filled with weird and wonderful characters.  Just around my parent’s “stand” was Sol Nevins, the shoe man; Anna, the Polish seamstress; Joe Fader, the flower man; Virginia, the cotton candy lady; and Al’s Auction, where you could sit a whole day and bid a dollar or two for a mystery box filled with dozens of eclectic items.  In a single box, you could claim sole ownership of one hundred number two pencils; a Florida-themed soda bottle opener; three pink rubber “spaldines;” a bag of plastic cowboys and Indians; and a Jackie Gleason & His Orchestra - The Romantic Moods of Jackie Gleason vinyl record album.

Sol Nevins was a very unusual man.  He had been selling shoes at Englishtown for several years, by the time I arrived on the scene.  He was a holocaust survivor, who settled in Brick (NJ) on a chicken farm.  His wife, Frieda, was an American born school teacher in the Lakehurst (NJ) public schools.  Their daughter, Sherry was a brilliant girl and also went to The Ranney School.  In fact, Frieda Nevins originally recommended the school to my parents.

Sol was the Trotsky of unsentimentality and sarcasm.  Nothing but money was important to him.  In fact, he amassed a small fortune at Englishtown and hid it – in cash – in the old chicken coops behind his house.  He needed nothing for himself and would openly mock the people, who walked by his shoe stand with their purchases.  He would yell out at them, “What you buy?  Why you need that?  I give you money; you buy me five like that.”

Sol also was a very shrewd business man.  In the early years, he mostly sold work boots to Polish and Portuguese immigrants, who came from Perth Amboy and South Amboy just to buy his shoes.  Often, he didn’t have their right shoe size, so he would quietly slip two left shoes or two shoes of different sizes in a shoe box and send the unsuspecting customer home with them.  When they got home, they discovered Sol’s intentional error and would have to exchange their purchase the following week for the right sizes.  By then, Sol had the shoes they needed in stock.  By doing what he did, he preserved the sale, rather than let the customer walk away and buy a pair of shoes from someone else at EAS or elsewhere.  What a character Sol was.

Joe Fader, the flower man was a nice enough old man.  He and I would sit and talk, for hours, about sports and current events.  Joe also taught me a lot about flowers, plants and the mating habits of pretty, young women.  Yes, Joe was the consummate dirty old man.  It was quite embarrassing when hot young girls passed by his stand and hear him say that they had “nice knockers.”  He would say it so loud that they often heard him and looked back at him and then onto me. I often felt as if I wanted to climb into a deep hole and cover it over with sand.

Joe may not have been half as bad as Virginia’s (the cotton candy lady) creepy husband.  He was a rather short Latino man with a crew cut.  For some reason, he reminded me of a carnival worker, who might also double as a clown.  In any case, he would walk the aisles of Englishtown and pinch women on their rears. Enough said about him.

Out of boredom, I often went “AWOL” in the field behind the buildings. That was where all the “goodies” were and I had a few bucks to buy all sorts of fun stuff.  Then, I would stray over to the sausage truck or to the little sub shop across the street from Steve’s Mainbrook Tavern for a great tasting sandwich.  I tended to “get lost” wandering around the outside aisles in search of all sorts of junk that teens usually look to buy.  When I returned to my parent’s stand, I generally got read the riot act for disappearing for an hour or so.

The Englishtown Auction day was long enough.  We worked – nonstop - from seven am until five pm on Saturdays.  Around 1972, the Auction decided to remain open BOTH Saturdays and Sundays. That totally shot the whole weekend for us.  After the day ended, the family would go out for dinner at a diner or chain restaurant such as York Steak House or Mr. Steak, before heading home for the evening. 

The early 70’s was a fairly uneventful period for our family.  By then, Desly was at Monmouth College and living on campus in West Long Branch (NJ).  She would often come home on weekends and would work part-time and then go out with friends.  Grandma Pearl was living alone at Parker Apartments in Freehold and was in the very early stages of Alzheimer’s.  In fact, her boss at Charney’s, Mr.
Oppenheim, took mom aside and told her that grandma was forgetting things and was not as sharp as she once was. He did promise to hold onto her for as long as he could afford to.  This was very thoughtful of him.

Back at Ranney, I was plugging away in class.  I was far from ever being a top student, but my teachers always reported to my parents that I was a “plugger” and someone, who just never gave up.  They seemed to like that about me.  I knew that I wanted to succeed at the school, so I was hard-nosed and persistent.  Somehow, I managed to get by enough to survive.

The summers of 1970 and 1971 were our last summers at Bradley Beach and they closed out our family tradition of going away during the summers.  I loved Bradley Beach until the day we packed away all of our summer things, forever.  In those remaining years, I was allowed more freedoms and spent much more time doing what I wanted, when I wanted.  I would go to the beach alone; spend time at the boardwalk arcade by myself; and go to the teen dancers at the pavilions at night with other teens.  I would either take Shelly Seiler as my date or catch up with Lori Sender and her friends.  Often, my Ranney or Manalapan friends would visit us and stay over at our Bungalow. They would tag along with me to the arcade or dances, which made it all that much more fun.  Willy Schaefer (who also had a place at Bradley Beach), Bruce Canell, Bruce Shuster or Ernie Evans would often visit.  I was like the guy, who had the only swimming pool on the block.  My friends weren’t always interested in visiting me on Taylors Mills Road, but Bradley Beach was a different story.  After all, we were staying at the Jersey Shore.

Ernie Evans was one of my first Ranney friends.  His mother drove a Ranney school bus and they lived in nearby Farmingdale on a huge farm.  Ernie and his little sister April were always fun to spend time with. When you visited the Evan’s house, you’d spend the day outdoors, usually driving around on go-carts in the fields.  Their next door neighbor was another Ranney friend, Shant Hovnanian.  Today, Shant is the CEO of Hovnanian; builders of development homes.  As you
may have guessed, Shant had the best go-cart of anyone on his road.

Speaking of Ranney bus drivers; the first few years at Ranney saw me catching the bus at Parker Apartments in Freehold Borough.  There just weren’t enough Manalapan kids attending Ranney in those days.  On my bus were some Freehold kids and some from Colts Neck and Tinton Falls. One of my favorites was Steve Hersh.  Steve had a terrific sense of humor and had a special interest in the old Superman TV series and Star Trek; both shows, which I loved.  In fact, Steve often appeared on the “Joe Franklin Show” in New York as “the world’s foremost expert on Superman.”  I thought it was very cool to see a friend of mine on television.

Steve had quite an audience on that small van.  As he told his stories and did impressions of the Enterprise crew, Dr. McDonald's (Freehold) son George would roar with laughter, as would Harry Whitney of Colts Neck.  Chuckling along, as well were Mark and Debbie Harakel and Dave Shrumpf, all of Colt's Neck. Joining in later in the trip were Clinton Badel and Mark Clark, both of Tinton Falls.

Also, on that bus were the Pollan brothers, Curt and Clint.  Today, both are my in-laws.  My son Sean is married to their niece from New Hampshire. You never know what life has in store.  This was pure irony.

As the 70’s rolled on, Desly met, married and divorced her first husband; I moved on to upperclassman at Ranney and had my first big romance. To be continued….