seven

Before I Met Sandy

High School - 13 to 16

There was no synagogue in Farmingdale, so, for 2 years, Lee and I took the Long Island Rail Road to Hicksville, twice a week, for Hebrew instruction. Since we took the same train, we became friendly with a conductor named Kingston. We enjoyed spending time with him more than the classes. I had my bar mitzvah in the synagogue mom's parents belonged to in Brooklyn. It was in the basement of an apartment building, cramped and dark. The only synagogue that I had been in before was the one in Hicksville, which was fairly large and well-lit.  I did my piece, hurried along by the congregation, and followed by a party in my grandparent's apartment.

Junior high was 6 classrooms on the second floor in the middle of the Farmingdale school building. For the first time, we students went from room to room instead of remaining in the same room all day, and not everyone was in every class. Every 45 minutes, the bell rang and we went to a different room. I liked the chance to get up and move around. Female teachers were supposed to be unmarried, but since there was a war on, the rule wasn't always enforced. Mrs. Jones taught 7th grade history, had been in the system for years, and somehow was the exception to the rule. Mrs. Lange taught 7th and 8th grade math and wasn't. I had her in the 7th grade, and knew that she was an excellent teacher. I had an affinity for math and we got along well together. She was replaced in Sept. 1942 by Mr. Galvin, an abominable math teacher. The school board insisted that for the price of a math teacher, they also got a wrestling coach, and besides, Mrs. Lange was over-qualified, and (whisper) do you realize that she's married? I attended a very rowdy school board meeting about the Lange-Galvin matter. Parents were furious that an excellent teacher was dismissed in order to hire a hack. Voices were raised and tempers flared. Finally, one parent suggested that everyone leave the board room and we give the board 10 minutes to change their minds, or else. And that's what happened. Mrs. Lange was rehired and Mr. Galvin was kept on. I don't know what financial arrangements were made.

Farmingdale was booming. Republic was working 3 shifts a day turning out fighter planes. Louis Feigenbaum, a cousin from Glens Falls, had been working as a tool and die maker at Republic for years, and we saw him occasionally, especially when he needed money. He was single, living in a rooming house, but his social obligations must have been very costly. After we got into the war, Louis tried to join the air force, but Republic declared that he was essential to the war effort and refused to let him go. He waited a few months and then wangled a transfer to  the Maryland plant. Once there, he quit and joined the air force. To his chagrin, he was stationed in Florida for the rest of the war.
1944

Louis Feigenbaum
 In 1944, mom and dad bought a slightly run-down house on Oakview Ave. It required considerable fixing and modernizing. Breaking out some of the old walls was fun, but hauling away the debris wasn't. One of the walls was insulated with a mattress. But, after all the work was finished, it was a big, livable house, and it became the party house for a lot of relatives.

We still walked to school, but it was now over a half mile through residential area that wasn't as interesting as Main Street.
September 1944 Whole bunches of people came to visit.

1946 All the Berger grandchildren.

1946
 After 8th grade, we moved into the north end of the school building, into the high school. Things weren't much changed, except now I had to take a foreign language, Latin. I did well because we didn't have to speak it. In my last 2 years, I took French, and while I could memorize all the words and the syntax, I never learned to speak it. I had stopped playing the violin when I was 10, but I started on the baritone horn. It was a big thing and sounded like a trombone, but it had valves like a trumpet. I played in the school band and in the summer band which gave concerts every week. A couple of years of that was enough.
While in high school, I had the paper route for teachers in the school. Every morning, I delivered the NY Times and the NY Herald Tribune. I usually got to school about 7 am, delivered my papers, and then sat at a desk in the third floor hall, doing my homework until school started. It was a very good arrangement for me.
I made two more trips to Brooklyn on my bike. Aunt Esther was no longer hysterical when I showed up. The last trip was to get my cousin Irving Scheer. He had been a B-17 navigator based in England. He had survived 25 bombing missions over Germany and had been discharged from the army air corps. He and his family lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn, but he needed more space to rest and unwind, so his mother asked my father if we could put him up for a while. My parents agreed that he could stay as long as he wanted, but, he didn't know how to get to Farmingdale. So, I was sent to guide him home. I biked in, stayed at Baba's overnight, then Irving and I took the Long Island Rail Road home.
1942, behind the Stanley Store


The newly remodeled old living room before it was re-remodeled and enlarged. 		The war ended in 1945 and for us kids, there had been very little impact. Only once, when I went to buy some lead for a lead-casting kit that I had, was I unable to get what I wanted. After failing to make my purchase, I walked back home cursing Hitler. Adults had to cope with rationing - meat, gas, and I don't know what else.

Bill Rappaport and I had been acquaintances since we moved to Farmingdale. He was one grade ahead of me, so we didn't have much contact. We became closer when we were both delegates to a Jewish youth organization and we attended monthly meetings in Jamaica, L.I. But, during the war, he accelerated high school in order to graduate in 3 years so that he could get in a year of college before being subject to the draft, so we lost touch for a few years. Later, after we had both married, we renewed our friendship and we, and our wives, became the best of friends.