I was on the phone two days ago with my sister Valerie, and I mentioned the name of an infamous ol' "schoolmarm" from our alma mater, PS 177. She immediately informed me that she had just run across that very name on this site, dedicated to that bastion of LES (lower east side) comfort, Knickerbocker Village. We were not raised there, but rather across the street at your friendly neighborhood housing project, the Al Smith Houses. Nevertheless, KV was a part of our daily life for the years we spent there. I still call it the very best place in the world to have grown up, and anyone who doesn't see the precious value of diversity was robbed of a childhood birthright.
Certainly we had to walk past it twice daily on the way to school. But there was so much more. There was the deli with the two letter name (though I'll be dipped if I remember which two...K and K I'm tempted to guess). While the bulk of our family shopping was done at the A & P, we (ME) had to go there often enough to get the emergency loaf of bread or quart of milk. I remember how I'd moan and groan about having to walk ALL THE WAY there from 10 Catherine Slip, a voyage of nearly half a block. There was Doc's, the pharmacy on the corner, which was infinitely more pleasant than Rich's up the street (hey, if I get the memories screwed, please excuse me...it's been over 40 years. Only thing that I'm sure is still down there is Vanella's Funeral Parlor and the Churches). The first Pizza Parlor I can remember was on Catherine Street in the KV building, and it was scrumptious, and a slice was 15 cents. And how many pair of shoes did my mom rescue with heels and soles at the repair shop?
Ha! When I was a kid (dunno...ten?) I wanted to buy my parents a Christmas present, and I thought maybe some liquor would make a nifty stocking stuffer. Oh, I knew I couldn't buy a bottle, but I remember thinking I could maybe get them some nips. Forget the fact that I didn't have a clue what they drank, since they didn't drink much of anything around the house. Well, I went into the liquor store on Catherine and the dude behind the counter said "Ve no sell you no Viskey". He was pretty adamant. I was devastated. I mean, I had the cash. What was his problem? I never had any problem buying cigarettes at the little newspaper shack up the corner. It occurs to me now: I wonder if he got a discount being so close to the Journal American? He really didn't need a delivery, after all.
I remember the luncheonette on the corner of Monroe, across the street from the school. Once, when my mother sent me to do the family shopping (at age 12, with 25$ and a list as long as my arm), I took my life in my hands and spent 40 whole cents on a ham sandwich. It was like tasting forbidden fruit, though in truth, it wasn't even close to being as good as the sandwiches we got from Pete's, the italian deli on Madison, across from PS 1. And for beverages? Was there ever a better eggcream than there was in that little soda shop on Monroe? I'd go there and spend the money I got working delivering packages of meat for Sid Birnbaum, the kosher butcher.
I'll tell you something else. I don't think six flags ever had a ride more thrilling than what we little project kids used to get running through the basement of KV chased by security guards!
Well, it's been fun. I'll have to stop by again!!!
Rod Aviles Reyes
