On my first day of kindergarten at Good Shepherd Catholic School, I did not want to go. However, my mother walked me to school, leaving me with my first teacher. Even though she was not a nun I did not want to be there, so I kicked her in the shins, high-tailed it out of the school, ran home and hid behind the chair. I ran so fast, I beat my mother home.
Mom walked in the door, went straight to the chair, grabbed me by the ear, and walked me back to school.
I made such an impression that first day that the teacher, and the nuns during the next six grades, did not let me forget it. Not only did they take it out on me, some of it spilled over to my sister Maura, who had the misfortune to come behind me.
I still have no idea how my mother knew I was behind the chair. The only thing I can think of is she saw me running down E 33rd St from Avenue S (she came the other way from Fillmore Ave). I did not see her, but I guess she saw me.
I stayed at Good Shepherd thru 6th grade, when they threw me out of school. I was never a good student, still did not want to be there, it was never my thing. I wanted to be out in the open. Not getting my knuckles rapped or my ears pulled for not paying attention, or just for looking out the windows. So I started seventh grade at P.S. 207. Unfortunately, the public schools were as bad then as they are now. I knew everything they were teaching. I left school after completing the tenth grade at James Madison High School.
Baseball:
Baseball in the Park: I started my baseball career by playing stickball in the streets. We had no money for gloves, bats or balls. The older guys played pick-up games in Marine Park on Sundays. When they broke a bat, or frayed a ball, I would grab it and take them home. Put some screws in the bat and it was as solid as new. Wrap the balls in friction tape and they went like rockets. Which is what we called them. Boy, were they hard and fast. Wear them out, put on more tape until we couldn´t tape them anymore. Now, if we had a dollar, you could buy a new one at the candy store.
A Stitch in Time: Out in the street one evening, playing stickball, I went to tag a guy out. He bumped into my hand holding the ball. I heard my hand pop. When I went home that night, Dad took a piece of canvas, and sewed it around my arm. Boy did that hurt. The next day, Mom took me to Kings County hospital. It was broke. When they took the canvas off, Dad had stuck the needle thru my skin and sewn me to the material. When the cast came off a month later, the guy cut my wrist with the snips. Since I broke my right hand I thought that would get me out of homework. The nuns made me do it with my left hand. Break your hand, and a guy can´t get a break!
Fore: One Saturday, we were playing stickball in the street. A guy down the block, a cop, pulled his car out of the alley and parked it in the street, right in the middle of our game. My brother, Paddy, was up at bat. Hit the ball right in the windshield. Boy, did that cause hoopla. My Dad refused to pay; said the cop knew better than to park his car in the middle of a game. Nobody liked the guy anyway.
Puerto Rico: Playing ball in Marine Park, I met a guy who had connections with the Brooklyn Dodgers. In 1946, he took a rookie team to San Juan for two weeks. Flew into Puerto Rico on a four-engine Constellation. My first plane ride. Hit turbulence, the plane dropped suddenly. No one got hurt; we had our seat belts on. Doesn´t mean we didn´t get scared. Puerto Rico was very nice. Did not get to see much of it. Played ball every day, hung around the hotel at night. Most of the guys were older, just gotten out of the service. A few of us were a lot younger. The older guys got to go into town; the younger guys had no money. The hotel was nice. Six floors, shaped like an open triangle, with a swimming pool in the middle. One night, a guy decided to jump into the pool from the sixth floor. Missed the water, hit the concrete deck. I saw it afterwards. The ride back was nice and uneventful. After our return, I got an offer to play in Class D baseball, $125 month. Way the hell out in nowhere, the sticks of upstate or Pennsylvania. Declined that offer.
Speed racer:
At the end of each school year at Good Shepherd, we had a Field Day. Played games and races. Not on grass, on concrete. I was the fastest runner and the longest jumper in my class. No one could beat me. A few years later, I was playing football in Marine Park. A guy came up to me and said, "I was so glad when you left Good Shepherd; it let me be the fastest runner, when you were gone".
Earning a Living:
Life After School: When I quit High School, my first job was at a print shop in NYC. I made up post cards with return addresses on them. Lasted about a year. Second job, I worked in the office of a slaughterhouse in NYC. Don´t remember what I did. I then became a carpenter, replacing doors, windows, and moldings. Worked for a guy who lived on 34th St.
Boot Camp: I joined the service in February 1951. Camp Pickett, VA for boot camp. Stayed in for nine months.
Family:
My Dad Cornelius: He was born in Ireland. Came to America with his brother. Dad stopped in NY, his brother continued to Chicago. That was that. Don´t know what happened to him. Dad worked for Con Ed maintenance in the power plant. He had a good job. Dad died May 16, 1945 of a heart attack. He had been sick, was in Kings County Hospital. Mom went to see him every night. Walked to the bus, took the bus to the trolley. She got home that last night about 10 pm. The cops rang the doorbell at 3am, gave us the news he had died. The nurses had told mom he was doing well; she would never have left him if she knew he was going to die.
My Mom Kathleen: My Mom was born in Limerick, Ireland. She and my Dad bought the house in 1922 for $6,000. My brothers, Charlie and Paddy, were in service in Europe when Dad died. They were not able to come home. Mom went to work in a sweatshop downtown.
My Aunt Nellie O´Byrne:My mom´s sister, Nellie, came to America after my Mom. She lived with us for a long time, working as a waitress. One day, Nellie bought a car for Mom. Dad would not let her drive it without insurance, which neither Dad nor Nellie would buy. Nellie sold the car, and then moved out to an apartment on E 69th St and 3rd Ave, five-up (5th floor). She lived in that apartment until she died. She came over for dinner every Sunday. If she could not come, she would call.
O´Byrnes in Ireland: My mom´s other sisters, Maura, Alicia, and Agnes, stayed in Ireland, in the cottage in Limerick. She also had a brother, James O´Byrne, who I first heard about when I visited Ireland. The cottage stayed in the family after they all passed away. In Ireland, you could not own a cottage unless you lived there. The people next door, the Ryans, saw to the house, lighting peat fires in the stove to have smoke come out of the chimney to make it look like someone was there. Mr. Ryan was a communist and the Mayor of Limerick.
My Brothers: Charlie and Paddy went into the service together in 1942. Same regiment, different companies. Both trained at Ft. Bragg. Shipped out to England on the original Queen Elizabeth. The war ended August 1945.
