It was the spring of 1965 and I was waiting for the results from the four Catholic High Schools that I applied to for entry. I don’t remember which came first, but I did know I wanted to attend Mater Christi. A lot of my buddies were going there from my class and I had some close friends that were one year ahead of me. When the news came, I accepted right away. I think we had an orientation, but I am not 100% sure, but I do know we got a summer reading list.
Two things that I really looked forward to 1) no nuns, brothers and 2) no uniforms, although the girls still had to wear them.
Those of us from College Point had the longest trip of any of the students attending Mater Christi, with the exception of some from Flushing up by 165th St. A bus from College Point to Flushing, the number 7 to Queensborough Plaza, change to the R train, and then a short walk to school. It was close to 90 minutes each way. At least the bus stop was right across the street. We had to get a bus pass and a train pass every month to get the student rate and that was always a pain. My two closet friends Tom McClean and John Graci were going into their sophomore year and they helped get me squared away and showed me the ropes.
The school seemed enormous, how will I ever navigate remembering my locker code, changing classes, the bigger than life seniors barking commands, student government, student court. Small fish in a big pond, after being an 8th grader and a grammar school big shot!
Homeroom. My homeroom teacher was brother Daniel, and honestly he’s the only homeroom teacher that I can remember for sure. But jeez, he’s like my older brother’s age. There was only one other kid from College Point there, Bobby Kerr. We kind of knew each other in grammar school, but we became the best of friends after our first year, as we had to bond and explain to everyone where College Point was located, especially brother Dan as he was always asking.
Now back then, the seniors ran the show and I remember vividly them trying to convince the Freshman to go to the fourth floor. That was where the brothers lived and was no man’s land. They used to try to convince you that there was a swimming pool up there. Ha! Thankfully, there were several juniors from College Point that I befriended and they looked after me. We also became very close and hung out for several years during HS and after. Ed’s dad was president of the NY PBA and boy was that a big perk.
Midway through the year, we had about a week off due to the transit strike Jan 1 1966.
Once sophomore year rolled around in the fall of 1966, at least we were no longer the rookies, as the attention always seemed to be on the Freshman. Several things I do recall during the time at MC, as it was a sort of coed school, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other was split lunchroom and the split gym. For a while the cafeteria had the boys on one side and girls on the other. I don’t recall when, but in junior or senior year they allowed us to intermingle. Not so much in the gym. I recall going up to the gym from the lockers and the doors that divided the gym being open and the nuns bolting to get them closed lest we get a glimpse of the girls.
My first real girlfriend was from Flushing and we met in school, although I do not remember the circumstances. My upperclassmen friends were now seniors and they knew some girls from Flushing also, so I could get a lift there. Also, as we all had to catch buses in Flushing, we would often meet after school at Jahn’s or the Hurdy Gurdy.
In the spring of 1967 my buddy John got his license and car, cutting the trip from 90 minutes to about 25. We had a straight run on the Grand Central from College Point to Astoria!
In the summer of ’67 I was working for my cousin Lou who owned Mina’s Fuel Oil in Corona. I also met my first wife that summer and naturally looking forward to being a junior and Drivers Ed! I remember driving through warehouse areas with very little traffic. I already had my car waiting. It was a 1963 Ford Falcon, black with red interior, that I bought from my cousin Lou. He had it stored in his warehouse in Corona.
April 1968, and I have my license. Freedom! I worked it out with three friends, Bobby K being one naturally, to ferry them to school. I think I collected a dollar or two a week each from them, which was more than enough to pay for the gas. My buddy John would wait for me to blow the horn before getting dressed, so we always had to allow for a little extra time.
It was around this time when I became good friends with Ralph Salzano from Rego Park and Bobby, Ralph and I would often triple date.
I think a few things of significance happened at MC in Junior year, First, brother Paul became the Vice Principal in charge of discipline, second, they instituted the whacky 7 day rotating schedule and third the ramped up the senior smoking room. I say this, but I may be off by a year.
Senior year and we are in charge! I think by this time they did away with the senior kangaroo court. But still, senior-ship had its perks. Entry into the smoking room was the biggest perk, especially with the rotating schedule, as every seven days you got a triple lunch, roughly two hours. Also, if you had the double period at the start or end of the day you could come in late or leave early. We also had a routine for Chem class where every week one table would cut class and others in the class would fill in the gap.
Of course the prom was great. Ralph, Bobby and I took our dates and they all looked stunning. Prom, night club in Manhattan, four hours sleep, Rockaway beach the next morning, and Palisades park the following night. Ah, to be young again.
Graduation day it was very hot and the boys did not have to wear the caps. Afterwards my parents and Bobby’s parents took us and our girlfriends to Joe DiMaggio’s restaurant in Flushing for a celebration.
Brother Paul
I think is was junior year when Nick M and I got into trouble with brother Paul. We were picking on someone in class and brother Paul found out. He went on to tell us that we aren’t so tough, that he grew up in Woodside etc. And wham Nick gets one across the face. I think brother Paul maybe thought twice about this as I was spared.
Our history teacher was always late, and one test day, Ralph and another kid get to class and there are two seats left. Last row last seat and right in front of the desk. Ralph and the other guy both run for the last row seat and as they are fighting over it, and we are cheering, brother Paul walks into the room. Now, we all shut up, but they don’t notice and keep fighting. Finally, they realize and look up. Brother Paul motions for them to come to the front of the room and the other kid gets there first. Pow! Right in the kisser. So now Ralph sees this and rolls with the punch. Brother Paul smiles and says, “I don’t know when or where but I will get you.” Ralph was looking over his shoulders for months, and yes brother Paul did get him. This is not the end of the story, we were ordered back to class at the end of the day, and brother Paul kept asking Bob Simpson what was going on, it was only after three tries when he said that we were screaming and shouting that we were allowed to leave.
Another great story was the kid who went for chalk after the bell. They corridors were off limits once that bell rang. The kid comes back to class all disheveled and the teacher asked,
“What happened?”
“Brother Paul got me.”
“Didn’t you tell him I sent you for chalk?”
“Yes, but it was too late.”
He did have the chalk.
Finally, there was the Harry’s Christmas attack on the teachers. After dismissal, as the teachers were leaving some seniors and juniors decided to throw snowballs at the teachers cars. When we returned from the break the very first announcement was that anyone who was at Harry’s or passed by Harry’s that day had to report to the Audio visual room after school. At least 100 showed up and could not fit into the room. Brother Paul was so overwhelmed that he just released everyone with no consequence. It was funny, because after that the seniors could do no wrong.
One of the saddest days of my life was in the summer of 1970 when Bobby K was killed in a freak auto accident across the street from his girlfriend and just a few blocks from his home. He was a passenger in car with another friend who should not have been driving. Bobby wanted his keys, but he refused so Bobby said that he would ride with him from the bar that was less than a mile from their homes.
I was devastated and really a mess. About a week after his burial, I walk up in the middle of the night to see him at the foot of my bed. While transparent, he was clear as day, and while he did not speak I got a sort of ESP message from him telling me that he was ok and that I need to move on. I still miss him to this day.
Abruzzo to Astoria: A Personal History of Italian-American Migration
Picture yourself traversing the bustling streets of Astoria, Queens, where the air is thick with Italian dialects and the spirit of a robust, tight-knit Abruzzese community permeates every corner. Our guest today, Maria Fosco, raised amidst the lively Italian neighborhood, retraces the vibrant roots of her ancestry, offering a fascinating glimpse into the migration patterns of Italians and their profound imprint on Astoria. Join us as we follow Maria’s engaging narrative, journeying all the way
Mina’s Fuel Oil — Italian American Stories
Uncle Nick Mina Mina’s Fuel Oil Before talking about my two summers working at Mina’s, a brief history as I know it. I was told that the company was started by my aunt’s father in law, I guess in the 30’s or 40’s. My aunt’s husband ( Nick Mina ) was running the company when I was a boy. Now Uncle Nick was a card. He used to make me laugh all the time,
Joe Profaci aka Charlie Chan — Italian American Stories
Aunt Mary in the 1940’s Aunt Mary I think almost every Italian family has an Aunt Mary. She was always the life of the party and the first to start singing a chorus of “Che La Luna” or “Mama” when eating stopped and the fun began. She always had something to fun to say and everyone was “frigoli” and the girl cousins were “trampolines” when they dressed, how teens dressed in the 1960’s. Not to
