St. Joseph’s Home for Boys, 1945
[Part One of this essay can be found here.]
ALAN writes:
I remember listening on peaceful Sunday afternoons to baseball announcer Jack Buck on KMOX Radio broadcasts of Cardinals’ doubleheaders…..and standing at our kitchen sink early one evening while listening to Jack Buck interview retired Cardinals’ pitcher Lindy McDaniel, another of my boyhood baseball heroes whose baseball cards my classmates and I carried in our pockets in those golden summers of 1958-’59.
Two blocks from where we lived was a building that Bohemians built in 1903 as a gymnastic and cultural club. They were there until 1956, at which time it became a VFW Post.
I remember walking countless times to and across a pedestrian walkway above Highway 55 to a bus stop on Broadway in the years when I worked downtown. Behind me as I stood there waiting for my bus were two houses that dated from the 1850s and overlooked the Mississippi River. In the early 1900s, passenger trains stopped behind one of those houses. The trains and the houses are long gone.
As I walked up the steps leading to the walkway, I walked past an ordinary house that was always occupied and in good condition.
In some years I would get home from my job at or around midnight. Then I would read the two daily newspapers, and perhaps a book or magazine, and fall asleep around 3 a.m. to the wonderful voice of John McCormick on KMOX Radio. I remember reading Arthur Koestler’s book The Ghost in the Machine in that setting in 1968.
I remember walking along the streets around our house many times late at night with no need whatever for concern about safety. That began to change in the late 1980s and reached bottom when the liars and frauds who call themselves “The Law” did nothing to stop thugs and parasites from converting that neighborhood and others around it into combat zones.
I remember Elisabeth’s thoughtfulness in visiting my mother in the last years of her life, and in exchanging cards and notes with me for years afterward. Her mother lived the last years in her long life in a nursing home overlooking the river, the same location where my grandfather died in 1969.
When we were in grade school, my classmate Tony and his family lived two blocks from Pennsylvania Avenue. (They were from Germany, too.) But in the middle of those years, their house was demolished when the highway was built through that area.
St. Hedwig’s Catholic Church was built for Polish Catholics. Baseball’s Hall of Fame sportswriter Bob Broeg was born in the kitchen of a house just down the street from the church and school. The school closed in 1970, the church closed in 2005, and the parish was dissolved after 101 years. Here is a picture of the St. Hedwig class of 1962:
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