My dad had moved up to being a draftsman at the Richardson Scale Co. in Clifton and my mom worked in their blueprint office part time. "Tante Frieda", my mom's aunt came over from Germany and stayed with us, so my mom could work. She had already been with us in the Mill Street home and was a wonderful person to be around.
When we moved from Mill Street to live next door to Henry Koerner's Variety store, I spent a lot of time with Susan and Cynthia Koerner. Susan was my age. We were rascals, to say the least. Susan would go into the store prior to our going to school #16 in Paterson, steal some gum and cigarettes and then the two of us would walk to school, smoking and then chewing gum. We would be constantly late and eventually were given detention. Fortunately, our new home in Clifton was ready to move into and my smoking career came to an abrupt ending.
The Clifton house was old (built in 1920) and cost my parents $19,000. It was on Van Houten Avenue, one of the main streets in Clifton, with Garrett Mountain, just a quarter mile up the road. Maple Valley was a great place to live with a park close by and lots of young kids born just after the war.
Maple Valley Playground was just across the way, less than a 220 yards from home. There I learned how to play baseball, checkers, chess, jacks and found out I could run around the park paved sidewalk and beat most other kids when we had races.
I had lots of friends, as the development was filled with young professionals and laborers, who were living in their first homes after coming back from WW #2. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were my age or a bit younger, with only a few older kids around that didn’t spend time with us.
In 1957 my brother was born and my mom then stayed at home as Tante Frieda went to Regina,Canada to live with her son.
The Clifton property was where I learned all about gardening. The property seemed huge, but looking at the photo, one can see it was about 7600 square feet. Prior to that time we would get our tomatoes and peaches at the Paterson Farmer's Market.
The garden was back behind the house set against a back fence of the property behind ours. There was enough room to grow lots of tomatoes and the weeds were plentiful. Weeding was my job and I wasn't very good at it.
My dad did the brick front, built the patio on the side and added an extra room at the back of the house for Uncle Ritchie. There was also a pool just off the driveway next to the addition that had carp in it over the winter.
We lived there for 7 years with our next door neighbors having 13 kids for instant friends and playmates. Those were 7 wonderful years.
Along with the small garden (20x30) we had an above ground pool that held carp in the winter and we had a basketball hoop mounted on the old 3 car garage at the end of the driveway, where I would shoot baskets every day I had some free time. We also had a swing set that my brother and sister loved to go on, trying to see how high they could go.
Maple Valley Playground was just across the way, less than a half a mile from home. There I learned how to play baseball, checkers, chess, jacks and found out I could run around the park paved sidewalk and beat most other kids when we had races.
I had lots of friends, as the development was filled with young professionals and laborers, who were living in their first homes after coming back from WW #2. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were my age or a bit younger, with only a few older kids around that didn’t spend time with us.
When we moved from Mill Street to live next door to Henry Koerner's Variety store, I spent a lot of time with Susan and Cynthia Koerner. Susan was my age. We were rascals, to say the least. Susan would go into the store prior to our going to school #16 in Paterson, steal some gum and cigarettes and then the two of us would walk to school, smoking and then chewing gum. We would be constantly late and eventually were given detention. Fortunately, our new home in Clifton was ready to move into and my smoking career came to an abrupt ending.
The Clifton house was old (built in 1920) and cost my parents $19,000. It was on Van Houten Avenue, one of the main streets in Clifton, with Garrett Mountain, just a quarter mile up the road. Maple Valley was a great place to live with a park close by and lots of young kids born just after the war.
Maple Valley Playground was just across the way, less than a 220 yards from home. There I learned how to play baseball, checkers, chess, jacks and found out I could run around the park paved sidewalk and beat most other kids when we had races.
I had lots of friends, as the development was filled with young professionals and laborers, who were living in their first homes after coming back from WW #2. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were my age or a bit younger, with only a few older kids around that didn’t spend time with us.
In 1957 my brother was born and my mom then stayed at home as Tante Frieda went to Regina,Canada to live with her son.
The Clifton property was where I learned all about gardening. The property seemed huge, but looking at the photo, one can see it was about 7600 square feet. Prior to that time we would get our tomatoes and peaches at the Paterson Farmer's Market.
The garden was back behind the house set against a back fence of the property behind ours. There was enough room to grow lots of tomatoes and the weeds were plentiful. Weeding was my job and I wasn't very good at it.
My dad did the brick front, built the patio on the side and added an extra room at the back of the house for Uncle Ritchie. There was also a pool just off the driveway next to the addition that had carp in it over the winter.
We lived there for 7 years with our next door neighbors having 13 kids for instant friends and playmates. Those were 7 wonderful years.
Along with the small garden (20x30) we had an above ground pool that held carp in the winter and we had a basketball hoop mounted on the old 3 car garage at the end of the driveway, where I would shoot baskets every day I had some free time. We also had a swing set that my brother and sister loved to go on, trying to see how high they could go.
Maple Valley Playground was just across the way, less than a half a mile from home. There I learned how to play baseball, checkers, chess, jacks and found out I could run around the park paved sidewalk and beat most other kids when we had races.
I had lots of friends, as the development was filled with young professionals and laborers, who were living in their first homes after coming back from WW #2. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were my age or a bit younger, with only a few older kids around that didn’t spend time with us.
By the time you got to high school, trying out for the baseball team was a ritual. I tried out for the team my junior year and was amazed at how many other kids were there trying out as well. I had sat on the bench as a JV basketball player, so I was hoping I would do better this time around. I don't know how the baseball coach could figure out who to pick for his roster, but eventually lists would show up on a daily basis with cut player’s names posted.
Clifton already had a great football program and their baseball team wasn't far behind. Most of the good football guys also were good at basketball and baseball. With over 3000 students in grades 10,11 and 12, there were lots of athletes to choose from. The baseball team had one very good pitcher by the name of Ken Van Dalen. He was about 6-5, a lefty, with a fastball that disappeared if you blinked. He made it into the Pittsburgh Pirate organization, but never all the way to the majors.
Van Dalen was on the mound when final tryouts were being completed. I had played out in center field in Nash Park’s vast outfield, where I was quite fast and could run down hit balls quickly. I caught one fly ball behind the left fielder, close to the foul line, as he could not get to it. I thought I had a good chance of making the team, as a result.
Each newcomer had 20 at bats, and the guy in ahead of me had the dubious task of facing Van Dalen. By the time Ken let go of the baseball, it was already 30 feet towards home plate, so getting a hit off him was going to take a lot of concentration.
After the batter up missed a few pitches, he decided to just step into the next pitch and hope to make contact. He swung at the ball and fell to the ground as he missed and the ball hit him square in the middle of his stomach. One could see the stitch marks from the ball on his stomach when his shirt was pulled up to see what damage had been done.
So, I am up now, pretty scared. I had a terrible habit of blinking when the ball came over the plate. I did that when I was a catcher and was quickly moved to second base, as I would have too many passed balls due to blinking. Van Dalen winds up, and lets this wicked fast ball go, heading right towards me. I step in the bucket, close my eyes and swing. Miss number one. I do the same thing for 10 pitches, all from the right side, all misses.
I was a switch hitter, due to my speed and playing over at Maple Valley's short fence, so I switch over to the left side, thinking I might have a better shot at hitting the ball, even as Van Dalen was a lefty. Ten pitches later resulted in ten missed swings.
The next day I show up for practice and there on the wall are the cuts for the day. My name was the last one on the list, with a note saying to go see the track coach. I head over to Clifton Stadium, a huge stadium that has seating for 12,000 fans, to find out what track is all about. Boy was I in for a surprise.
My friend Dan Henry, who was the #15 player on the JV basketball team, told me I really should go out for track because you don’t sit on the bench. Everyone gets to participate. So, instead of heading out to Nash Park, I go over to the old Clifton High School where the track is located inside this huge stadium. The track was a cinder track, as all tracks were back then. A baseball diamond was positioned within the oval, with the backstop located right by the first turn of the track and the outfield went beyond the track’s backstretch. In other words, you had two fields pretty much on top of each other.
After being cut by baseball, I make my way over and see the head coach of track and field. Mr. Grimes was a huge, portly fellow, who didn’t paerticularly think the baseball coach knew much about track when I told him why I came to see him with the season ready to start. Coach asked me what event I did and I thought for a second and said, “Once around the track, I guess”, as I had run that distance during the summer playground olympics. He points me to a group of guys and tells me to run with them. They were doing repeat 330’s with a 110 jog, and a new leader for each repeat. I think they were doing 10 of them.
I jump in and go right to the front racing the lead guy. On the next repeat I do the same thing and I start hearing some noise from the group. By the 4th one, I am spent, done, toast. Running in high top sneakers and sprinting to the front wasn’t a good idea. I was finally told that we were not racing, just doing a workout where everyone kept in line. Now, they tell me.
The next day we show up and sides are picked for an intersquad meet to be held the following day. I can hardly walk. I am so sore, just breathing hurt. Jay Horwitz, who eventually became the PR Director for the New York Mets, was the manager and he was writing down the names of the guys for each team. One after another was picked, while I stood wondering when I would be chosen. When no one else was left, Tom Papa pointed to me and said, “I guess I have to take him.” Oh, boy.
The intersquad meet was interesting as we had competitors in every event, quite a few in fact, as we had a large team. I was very nervous, not knowing anything about track, other than I had to run one lap middle of the track to middle of the track. There were no lanes for the oval races. Getting out seemed to be a good idea. I was sitting in the bathroom until the last minute and then rushed out as the 440 was called to the line. I watched as everyone else got down in their marks, so I did the same. The gun goes off and out I go, clear in front of the rest of the guys, heading for the first turn. I do just fine until I head into the second turn, just short of the 330 mark. All of a sudden everything goes tight on me. My legs get super heavy, my arms don’t want to swing anymore and my head feels like a 50 lb bowling ball. I am still in the lead, but the last 110 yards were slow motion. Over the last 10 yards a guy goes by me, but I manage to hang on to second place, running 55.1. I quickly went to the side of the track and threw up. I really liked baseball a lot better.
Clifton already had a great football program and their baseball team wasn't far behind. Most of the good football guys also were good at basketball and baseball. With over 3000 students in grades 10,11 and 12, there were lots of athletes to choose from. The baseball team had one very good pitcher by the name of Ken Van Dalen. He was about 6-5, a lefty, with a fastball that disappeared if you blinked. He made it into the Pittsburgh Pirate organization, but never all the way to the majors.
Van Dalen was on the mound when final tryouts were being completed. I had played out in center field in Nash Park’s vast outfield, where I was quite fast and could run down hit balls quickly. I caught one fly ball behind the left fielder, close to the foul line, as he could not get to it. I thought I had a good chance of making the team, as a result.
Each newcomer had 20 at bats, and the guy in ahead of me had the dubious task of facing Van Dalen. By the time Ken let go of the baseball, it was already 30 feet towards home plate, so getting a hit off him was going to take a lot of concentration.
After the batter up missed a few pitches, he decided to just step into the next pitch and hope to make contact. He swung at the ball and fell to the ground as he missed and the ball hit him square in the middle of his stomach. One could see the stitch marks from the ball on his stomach when his shirt was pulled up to see what damage had been done.
So, I am up now, pretty scared. I had a terrible habit of blinking when the ball came over the plate. I did that when I was a catcher and was quickly moved to second base, as I would have too many passed balls due to blinking. Van Dalen winds up, and lets this wicked fast ball go, heading right towards me. I step in the bucket, close my eyes and swing. Miss number one. I do the same thing for 10 pitches, all from the right side, all misses.
I was a switch hitter, due to my speed and playing over at Maple Valley's short fence, so I switch over to the left side, thinking I might have a better shot at hitting the ball, even as Van Dalen was a lefty. Ten pitches later resulted in ten missed swings.
The next day I show up for practice and there on the wall are the cuts for the day. My name was the last one on the list, with a note saying to go see the track coach. I head over to Clifton Stadium, a huge stadium that has seating for 12,000 fans, to find out what track is all about. Boy was I in for a surprise.
My friend Dan Henry, who was the #15 player on the JV basketball team, told me I really should go out for track because you don’t sit on the bench. Everyone gets to participate. So, instead of heading out to Nash Park, I go over to the old Clifton High School where the track is located inside this huge stadium. The track was a cinder track, as all tracks were back then. A baseball diamond was positioned within the oval, with the backstop located right by the first turn of the track and the outfield went beyond the track’s backstretch. In other words, you had two fields pretty much on top of each other.
After being cut by baseball, I make my way over and see the head coach of track and field. Mr. Grimes was a huge, portly fellow, who didn’t paerticularly think the baseball coach knew much about track when I told him why I came to see him with the season ready to start. Coach asked me what event I did and I thought for a second and said, “Once around the track, I guess”, as I had run that distance during the summer playground olympics. He points me to a group of guys and tells me to run with them. They were doing repeat 330’s with a 110 jog, and a new leader for each repeat. I think they were doing 10 of them.
I jump in and go right to the front racing the lead guy. On the next repeat I do the same thing and I start hearing some noise from the group. By the 4th one, I am spent, done, toast. Running in high top sneakers and sprinting to the front wasn’t a good idea. I was finally told that we were not racing, just doing a workout where everyone kept in line. Now, they tell me.
The next day we show up and sides are picked for an intersquad meet to be held the following day. I can hardly walk. I am so sore, just breathing hurt. Jay Horwitz, who eventually became the PR Director for the New York Mets, was the manager and he was writing down the names of the guys for each team. One after another was picked, while I stood wondering when I would be chosen. When no one else was left, Tom Papa pointed to me and said, “I guess I have to take him.” Oh, boy.
The intersquad meet was interesting as we had competitors in every event, quite a few in fact, as we had a large team. I was very nervous, not knowing anything about track, other than I had to run one lap middle of the track to middle of the track. There were no lanes for the oval races. Getting out seemed to be a good idea. I was sitting in the bathroom until the last minute and then rushed out as the 440 was called to the line. I watched as everyone else got down in their marks, so I did the same. The gun goes off and out I go, clear in front of the rest of the guys, heading for the first turn. I do just fine until I head into the second turn, just short of the 330 mark. All of a sudden everything goes tight on me. My legs get super heavy, my arms don’t want to swing anymore and my head feels like a 50 lb bowling ball. I am still in the lead, but the last 110 yards were slow motion. Over the last 10 yards a guy goes by me, but I manage to hang on to second place, running 55.1. I quickly went to the side of the track and threw up. I really liked baseball a lot better.
Click on the photo below to see all the images from Clifton
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Our new home in Clifton -
Bricks, window and patio add on-1957 -
Clifton house no more. A new one in it's place - June 2025 -
The Chambers House, next door -
Ed Vander Wande's house -
Home similar to my friend's house-Sperling Road -
My grammar school-School #2 -
Our local Acme Shopping Mall -
1963-The Clifton Track Team -
1963-The old cinder track at Clifton Stadium -
1962-The old Clifton HS -
1963-The new Clifton HS -
1950's ad for Maple Valley homes -
Garret Mountain's Barbour's Pond -
A view of NYC from Maple Valley -
1959-Woodrow Wilson Jr HS -
1950's AC movies - The Clifton Theater
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Edward Vander Wande (1946-2023)
Open or Close
In memory of Ed Vander Wande (1946-2023), who was my neighbor three houses down the street in Clifton, NJ and was a great friend who enjoyed mechanical things, motorcycles and, later in life, skiing the Colorado mountains. Ed (front row, second from the left) and I used to play tug of war with our Lionel trains. He had a super powerful Santa Fe diesel, while I had the Illinois Central diesel. His train always won. Ed was quite creative, using his basement to build things, including a "Spooky House" that my sister still remembers, scaring her with every twist and turn around his cellar. May you rest in peace Ed, you will be missed. Our prayers go out to his wife Judy, as she was a terrific partner for 46 years.
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