Month: December 2024

One of the fondest memories I have of Christmas Eve as a young adult is getting all the goodies needed for a Christmas Eve gathering. And one of my favorite places to go, right around noon on the 24^th was Ro-Lynn Deli. Now most other times of the year, when we wanted hoagies or cheese steaks we would go to Phil and Jim’s. But Christmas Eve, the only place to go was Ro-Lynn’s!

Ro-Lynn’s was no typical deli. It was a mecca for Italian food and groceries. They had just about everything you could think of to put together a proper Italian Christmas Eve spread. That was usually the first stop of the day. Oh, and on the 24^th, John, the then owner, would always hand out some homemade “Dago Red” wine. I think his plan was to keep you hanging around a little longer than usual. The longer you stayed, the more you bought. There goes that Christmas bonus.

My parents typically hosted Christmas eve at their home on Edgmont Ave. I would eventually end up there, but first stop after Ro-Lynn’s was Wallio’s Frog Pond. You’d see a lot of the same people you’d see on any given night and meet some new people who were regulars during the day. There was always a little spread out, some cheese and crackers and such, and everyone was in a great mood. You’d even get a free draft beer for the holiday! Next stop would be the Liberty Tavern. Another little spread was out, and some of the regulars, who were friends that lived over by Irvington, would be there too. Most of these peeps were friends from grade and high school. After a few pops there, it was off to stop a few friends’ houses. Of course you’d bring a little Christmas cheer with you.  I always made the rounds, with my last stop being the Caruso’s house, before eventually ending up home for the main event.

My parent’s house was usually packed. They had an open house where friends and family came and went. My dad had built a little bar where the pantry used to be, and that was the place to gather. My dad would be behind the bar, holding court, and whipping up his whiskey sours, while others would be sitting at the small four-seat bar. Even more folks would be crowded behind them. The smoke was so thick, you’d have to crack a window to let in some fresh air. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace in the living room, and people were scattered throughout the house and kitchen. Before I was married, I’d spend the night at my parent’s house (I lived at my grandmother’s) and would wake up there Christmas day. There were so many people in the house, my parents never noticed, or cared, that I was drinking beer and celebrating the holiday with everyone else.

Those were some really fun times, and traditions, that I carried on when we started hosting Christmas Eve ourselves. It was the next generations turn to carry the holiday torch. When I moved to Berry Lane, and my parents built their in-law suite at our house, that become the new place to gather for our immediate family for some ravioli’s, meatballs, shrimp, clams, fish, and tons of pizzelles. I’d be in the kitchen at the stove, cooking, holding court, and drinking, and it was not uncommon for a neighbor or two to stop over for a drink and some dinner.

The tradition continues. This year, like the past few, we will be at my sister Maria’s house. This will be the first year without my friend and brother-in-law Paul, but he’ll be there in spirit. And like years past, we’ll have some ravioli’s, meatballs, wine and pizzelles. The important thing is not the food, but the family. La Famiglia!

Merry Christmas Eve and I hope you enjoy whatever traditions your family has.

By today’s standards, office Christmas parties are like church services compared to the debauchery that took place in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Back then, these events were the highlight of the year for many employees. It was a chance to show off your dance moves, best Christmas outfits, and how crazy you really were when enough alcohol was applied. I remember more than one ass-print, including mine, being left on the output tray of the Xerox copier. And that girl from accounting? Forgetta bout it!

When I was still in high school, I used to work in the summer and part-time on school holiday breaks at Wawa corporate in the maintenance department. We had a great crew of young guys, all family members of someone who worked at the office. We also had our boss, George, who was a WW II vet who sometimes had little patience with me, “the little dago bastard”. PC was not a thing back then. George’s boss, Charlie, pretty much left us alone during the year, except when it was time for the office party or shareholders meetings. These events were serious business, and the success or failure of these parties was on his head.

Back then, the parties were held at the corporate office, Red Roof. The campus, and office staff, was way smaller then, and the party was held in the cafeteria. First things first. The tree, which was fresh cut, had to be put up and decorated. Yeah, we did that with the watchful eye of the executive secretaries like my mom. Next Charlie had to order the soda, beer and wine. My mom would order the food, which was usually Capozzoli Catering. There was always too much of everything. Usually, Tim or someone older would go and pick up the beer and wine. And when he got back. me, Mark, Earl , and Kevin would unload it making sure a few six packs and bottles of wine would be put aside. You know, for safe keeping.

On the day of the party, usually a Friday, the workday would end at 4:00 PM. Everyone would gather in the cafeteria for dinner, and there were always prizes and gifts to be handed out. And a lot of those gifts were bottles of liquor that were promptly brought back to the tables and opened. That’s when the real fun began! The maintenance and mailroom crew would gather in the mailroom with our hidden bottles of beer and make plans to attend the after-party that was usually held at the Ramada Inn on route 202.

After the “official” party was over, our crew had to clean before we left. Sometimes we would just do the minimal like putting away the food and cleaning off tables, and then return the next day to finish. After all, we needed to get to the Ramada. But, what to do with all that leftover wine and beer. George would always tell us “There better not be any beer missing or it’s your asses!” But you best believe we would divvy up the beer and wine and leave a few cases behind and put them in the refrigerator down in the basement for the next party. Some of those bottles of leftover wine ended up as gifts.
This one particular party, when my sister worked in the mailroom, we cleaned up and headed to the Ramada. The Ramada was the place to be! There was always a great DJ spinning, so the dance floor was packed. My sister and I liked to dance. We actually went to some clubs in DELCO as well where we knew the bouncers and could get in. Remember the Carnival Room in Ridley? Yeah, that was our place.

Only because half the office was there, and they were all older than me, could I get served when we rushed the bar in a group. I would get some beers for me and my sister. The night was going great. You could see some people pairing up. What stories are we gonna hear on Monday? No one was ready to leave except my mom. She told my sister it was time to go. My mom used to bring my sister to work. I didn’t live at home, had my own car, so I drove myself. I told my mom I would bring her home. “She better be home by 11:30”. “No problem mom”.

Oh shit! It’s 11:30! We need to go. I gather up my sister, who is now drinking something that is not beer, and tell her we need to leave. I only knew of one way to get home, which was to drive north on route 1 and then south on route 352. Since we were late, I decided to take route 322 thinking it may be quicker. So off we go! Now back then there were no cell phones to call home to say you’re going to be late. But I figure we’ll get there in good time since I’m taking a short cut. I’m barreling down route 322, going fast enough to make good time, but not too fast to get pulled over. Then we hit Friday night bar traffic. I try to think fast and decide to take the Highland Avenue exit off of route 322 so I can worm my way around the backstreets to get to my parent’s house. The problem was, I didn’t know the backstreets down that part of the city. And there is no GPS. So we're driving around looking for familiar streets to take.

We finally make it to my parents. It’s around 12:15 AM and my father is standing out front. I know this isn’t going to be good. “I thought your mother said have her home by 11:30”. Quick on my feet, I said “we ran into traffic, what could I do?”. My dad said, “You could have had her home by 11:30 like your mother said”. Not so quick on my feet now, I said, “well I didn’t, so what are ya gonna do about it?” And my dad ended that discussion with a quick jab to the gut that doubled me over. “Now, go home”!

That is the first, and last time I ever challenged my dad. I felt so bad, I came back the next day and apologized. You just didn’t do that. There were plenty of parties over the years I worked there, and I swear they were some of the best times I can and cannot remember.

I bet you all have a few good stories of your own! Hope you have a great time at your “Holiday” celebration this year.

If you’re like me, you won’t start listening to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. Probably a boomer thing, but that’s when I do. And they need to stop playing right after ringing in the New Year. Many Christmas songs, especially the older ones, bring back memories from days gone by. They remind me of my childhood Christmas seasons spent with my family and extended family with Christmas Eve celebrated at our house. We’d jam everyone in that rowhouse on 21st Street before we moved to “the big house” on Edgmont Avenue. The bigger the house, the bigger the parties. And my parents loved to throw a party. Christmas Eve was also my aunt Anne’s birthday, so we had extra reason to celebrate. I still get a little choked up when I hear some of the songs today.

But there’s one song in particular that always evokes the same memory: Blue Christmas sung by Elvis Presley.

It’s 1980 something, and I’m sitting in Wallio’s Frog Pond on Providence Avenue. I’m with the regular gang at the bar drinking 35 cent Schaefer draft beers. I’m looking at how much money I have left on the bar and trying to decide if I play the poker machine and win a few extra bucks for more beers or am I getting a cheesesteak. I go for the poker machine. If I win enough, I can get more beers AND the cheesesteak! The poker machine is next to the jukebox. And the jukebox is playing Christmas music.
Now Wallio’s was frequented by the old guys getting off shift from the shipyard or refineries, and underage guys like me, Vinny, Paul, and some regulars who live in Sun Hill. Although Widener College was 500 feet away, those kids went to the Campus Casino down 15th street. The old guys liked the old tunes. And one guy, or guys, loved Blue Christmas. You know the tune.

I'll have a blue Christmas without you
I'll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me

And through the whole song the background singers are singing “a woo a woo woo, a woo a woo woo”. Continuously. Over and over.

But the one line, the line that pierces my eardrums is
But I'll, have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.

You hear it, right? “A woo a woo woo”. This song would play at least 10 times a night. It started off with Bing Crosby singing ‘White Christmas”, then Elvis with “Blue Christmas”, next up was Nat King Cole singing "The Christmas Song”, and then back to “Blue Christmas”! It got so repetitive that sometimes Rick the bartender would tell the crowd “The next guy that plays Blue Christmas is flagged”. And it was hard to get flagged from Wallio’s.

So we started Christmas music last week, and low and behold the first go-around of Blue Christmas comes on. Bam! My mind goes right back to Wallio’s. Sitting at the bar with Rick, Vinny, Paul, Jeff and few other guys. And then I start to sing. The whole song. Emphasis on blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.

My son Anthony is always sending me throw-back commercials, pictures, or songs from back in the day. Usually something from back in my day. This morning, he sent me this link https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1GZvKBvCsk/?mibextid=D5vuiz to some 1983-84 Atlantic City casino commercials. Here is Frank Sinatra wooing customers to Atlantic City. I remember seeing these commercials in the 80’s, but I have to say I never saw Frank Sinatra or any other celebrities when I was in Atlantic City. Las Vegas, well that’s another story. But AC, never.

I do, however, have a small collection of miniature samurai swords that belonged to Frank Sinatra that came from an auction of contents of his suite at the Golden Nugget. Here’s a video https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1619535421519729 of the some of the items that were auctioned off. I did want the marble toilet with the gold seat, but that was a hard “no”.

When gambling came to Atlantic City in 1978, that was a big deal. People could now throw down coin legitimately to play cards and slot machines. And the casinos were more than happy to take your money. Before that, if you wanted to play big, you had to find a high stakes game that would let you in. And your money better be good. Well, if you were in Delaware County in the 70’s and you knew a guy named Boston Blackie, you might just get into a game. Boston, the man I called Dad, would hold a game once a month or so in his newly renovated, exquisitely decorated home on Edgmont Ave. in Chester. With the red varpets, gold fixtures, and custom curtains, you would have thought you were in a Casino! There were some regular players, like my Uncle Frank, or a guy named “Deadman”, and sometimes there would be other people who came that I didn’t know. I never really got to see who was playing, as I was not allowed to hang around the house during these games. That was ok with me because I got to stay out extra late! My sisters however were allowed to stay. At least one of them. The lucky one would get to “work” the game, serving food, getting beers or drinks for the men, or running to Hall’s Store for cigarettes. These games ran long into the night. The longer the games, the more money they made in tips. I was jealous at how much money they were making!

When the casinos opened, there was no shortage of players. But the “guys” that ran the casinos wanted to get some of the “guys” in the suburbs to bring “whales” to start playing in Atlantic City. A “whale” is a gambler who consistently wagers large amounts of money. High rollers often receive lavish "comps" from casinos to entice them onto the gambling floors. Well, I’m sure you can see where this is going. The games at our house waned as my father brought his game to the casinos. It was a win-win for all the “guys” involved. Not so good for my sisters who lost that tip money. But, if you happened to be in our kitchen on a Saturday morning when my dad returned from the casino’s, you might find yourself on the other end of a $20 bill! He’d be handing out money like it was candy, and it didn’t matter who was there!

As I got older, I took a lesson from my dad. I am not really a gambler, but some of my buddies liked to go to the casinos. If we were sitting at Wallio’s Frog Pond, and someone was up for the drive, before we left, we’d see if anyone wanted us to place any bets for them while we’re there. They always gave you a few bucks for going, and if they hit, you might get a big tip. On more than one occasion I can remember having no money for the toll to get back into PA after a night in AC. We’d do the same when if went to Brandywine racetrack. It was much closer, and a solid way to make a few bucks for gas or beer.