Happy Birthday, Joannie Baloney

Joan Heuer, the funniest person I've ever met, was born today in 1935 in East Harlem.

She moved to Yorkville with the Ryan family in 1944. Joannie was my godmother and my Mom's middle sister, her younger sister, Barbara is in pictures above along with one of Uncle Mommy below at Joannie's daughter, Christine's christening. Also a picture of chubbsy-ubsy Joannie at Coney Island in 1945.

Best Joannie story... my Uncle Lennie comes home from the Navy in 1945. Joannie, ten years old, lazes around the house while everyone else goes to work or goes to school. She's alone. She's playing hookey. Joannie takes Lennie dress
whites out and puts them on.

The pants drag by half a foot, so she rolls them up and pins them. Does the same thing with the arms, but doesn't need much there because Lenny is skinny and Joan ain't. Then she gets my grandfather's ancient fishing pole out, empties a tin of Carnation Evaporated Milk into the sink, takes the top off the can, and shes ready to go. Got the pole and the can for the worms. She gets Lennie's sailor hat, double steps the stoop and jumps onto the street. She's dressed this way not to sneak around , she wants people to see her so she turns up 86th Street off York Avenue and gallivants, pole over her shoulder like a continental soldier, whistling while she strolls.


She makes it up to Horn and Hardarts getting all the attention she expected, when walking right at her with his face down in a newspaper is my grandfather. She don't see him because she's making lots of eye contact with people to her left and right. Joannie collides with her father, they make quick eye contact, Joannie takes off running towards Lexington, my grandfather's in pursuit but his strengths are sitting and complaining. Joan runs around the corner and down to 222 East 85 St and hides out with Uncle Jimmy for a half hour. From the stoop, he gives her the signal the coast is clear and Joan comes out of the hall, kisses Jimmy on the cheek and runs over to the Central Park with a loaf of stale bread in case she don't find any worms. She got back in time to wait for my grandmother to get off the bus after work. In the house, she hid behind her mother in the kitchen while her father circled the two of them, yelling, threatening, pointing but ultimately running out of steam.


I miss you, Joan.

.

Klutz For Life ~ Next Cornelia Street Stoops to Nuts Show ~ March 13th @ 6pm

The National Black Theatre

Two weeks ago, I put up photographs of Harlem. What I left out was my outstanding klutz event in front of The National Black Theatre building.

That morning it was 17 degrees. I decided I needed exercise to offset the previous night’s party I had with a jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise and half a loaf of bakery Rye. Feeling tubby and cold, I walked, ran, walked from 132^nd Street and Lenox Avenue to Yorkville. Taking 145 photos along the way. At the same time, I used my phone to stay in touch with an editor at the New York Times on final changes to a story. Frozen, anxious and distracted, I snapped away until I couldn’t feel my finger tips touching the camera’s buttons.   

Injured camera, bump top right

Near the corner of 125^th Street, I took a picture of The National Black Theatre. Done with that, I fiddled my gadgets towards my pockets and ran for the intersection to make the expiring green light.  My feet tangled, I tripped so fast the only thing I could do to prevent my head from hitting the pavement was to put my arm out and yank up my spine as I hit the ground.  While in the air, I lost the camera, it ended up in the second lane of Fifth Avenue; my glasses flew off my face and bounced into 125^th Street. On the ground, I felt embarrassed and sore. Two people helped me up. But the traffic light was in transition and I had to make a Sophie’s Choice. What item to retrieve first - my glasses or camera. I figured one of them was dead. 

Tom's glasses live another day.

I grabbed the camera first, then ran to get my glasses and nearly got hit by the cross-town bus pulling up to the red light. My specs were now under the bus. Their fate was in the hands of the guy holding the steering wheel. I waited out the light behind the bus. So I could hold up the car behind me if I got lucky. The bus pulled straight out, I picked up my eyeglasses and jumped back on the sidewalk. 

I began my assessment. Coat and dungarees were torn at elbow and knee. Remarkably, my glasses didn’t have a scratch.  The camera had a nasty bump on the top of its head but worked fine. My noggin was okay because I drew my body away from the ground when I went down.  Considering myself lucky, I headed south. Two days later, my neck, mid back and lower back went out. You’re supposed to fall loose; I fell stiff. That was six weeks ago. I’m still not back to my normal level of joint pain.

When I was a kid my family’s nickname for me was “The Klutz.”  I like contact & I’m clumsy, a terrible combo. Throughout my childhood, I was on a first name basis with the Lenox Hill emergency room doctors. When she was 5 years old, my daughter told her mother, “Someone should keep an eye on him,” after she heard me fall off a ladder three rooms away.

A woman asked me yesterday if I had one hour to live what would I do. I told her I’d play tackle football at the Asphalt Green on York Avenue and 90th Street. Then die happy. 

Asphalt Green Football Field 1974

Our next City Stories: Stoops to Nuts show is Tues, March 13th @ 6pm. It's a beaut.  Our artists are Claudia Chopek,Joe McGinty, John Newell, Rick Patrick, Thomas Pryor, Rivka Widerman & Ward White. Getting my Irish up, it's my birthday week, bring your best game. I'm giving away 10 drinks. Admission @ $7 includes one free cocktail.

Tonte getting her Irish up.

Dog on 125th Street stopping to look at me after I fell.

There Is a Rose in Spanish Harlem

Ryan family at breakfast on East 104th St @ 1941

Though my family’s been on York Avenue since 1896, my mother’s roots started in East Harlem.  She was born on 118th Street and 2nd Avenue in 1930. Her family left there for the St. Lucy’s parish on 104th Street between 1st & 2nd Avenue. Pictured here is a photo of Mom’s family in their apartment right before they moved into East River Houses in 1941. This photo is in the public housing archive at LaGuardia College. The photo was supposed to be the then photo in a now and then series the New York City Housing Authority was doing at the time to promote the quality of the new apartments their low income residents were moving into to. My grandfather was born at 239 E 113th Street, oldest of ten children, and my grandmother was born on 112th Street & Fifth Avenue in a brownstone. As a little girl her job was polishing the banisters on Saturday morning.

Patty, 10, Lenny,13, Tommy's Mom & Uncle

Last week I wrote about my walk through West Harlem on a wicked cold morning last month. That Friday, when I left the Mount Morris area I walked over to Lexington Avenue and made the rest of my way south towards Yorkville through the center of East Harlem.

 By the end of the walk I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers that worked the camera. It was worth it. Harlem, East & West are gorgeous interesting neighborhoods. 

Below are a few pictures from my East Harlem stroll along with a link to a photo album I created from my walk.

Please become a follower of "Stoops to Nuts" if you enjoy my work.

Roll Out The Barrel

My Uncle Jack and Aunt Anna were having marital problems in the early 1940s. Their fighting hit a new high in their East Harlem neighborhood when Aunt Anna found half her house money missing from the flour tin. She chased Uncle Jack with a ladle full of dog crap up First Avenue to the entrance of the 138th Street Bridge. Jack ran into the Bronx using the roadway’s passing lane.

After catching his breath, Jack not wanting to waste a good trip to the Bronx, continued walking north up to Yankee Stadium where he caught a doubleheader with the Cleveland Indians. DiMaggio went 4 for 7 with two walks and five RBIs. Jack spent $2.75 of Anna’s house money on Franks, beer, a ticket, a pennant for the kid, a program and a five cent pencil to keep score.

When Jack got home, Anna had put a chair against the door locking him out. Unfortunately, she also locked out her son, John, who after begging his mother to no avail to let him in stayed with my grandparents on 104th Street in their new East River Houses, Housing Authority apartment.

After much consultation with everyone on their block, Jack and Anna decided to get professional help from Flam & Flam, a 106th Street law firm, famous in the neighborhood for resolving family crises when folks were broke. After discussing their plight with Freddy (the brains in the outfit) and telling him they had one dollar for a divorce, Freddy rocked back on the legs of the library surplus chair and thought it over, then he popped a hand off his bald head.

“I’ve got it! A house divorce! It’s the rage in Philadelphia. When couples want out, but can’t afford it, the courts can grant a house divorce (no they can’t). You live together, but you’re not married (you are). You can tell everybody you’re divorced, but by a tiny technical thread you’re not really divorced. So I only have to charge you a dollar. Give me a dollar.”

Stingily, Jack gave Freddy Flam a house money dollar. Anna watched the money change hands thinking about kicking Jack’s ass right there in Flam & Flam’s office.

Anna buried Jack in Calvary Cemetery in Queens in 1978 after 13 years of conventional marriage and 37 years of house divorce thanks to Flam and Flam.





Roll Out The Barrel!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SfyObUd5e8

Wild In The Streets

On Lexington Avenue last night, inside Giovanna's Restaurant near the parish of St. Lucy's in East Harlem, Michele Carlo & I read from her terrific memoir, "Fish Out Of Agua." Michele's rich neighborhood tales are drenched in humor and pathos. We went back to 1944, and forward to the recent past. Always present in Michele's stories are family, friends, and characters, and the places we live that connect us all.

Thank you, Michele, for a great show, come back to Yorkville soon, Tommy

ps. a Garland Jeffreys song, "Wild In The Streets." Garland channels the spirit of New York City with ease and passion.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RzBZsOeqOQ

photo above: 102st looking north on Lexington, all photos below Michele & I are bike ride scenes at or near the Battery this past Sunday.