You are free to move around the neighborhood!

It is no wonder that our generation travelled all around the world when we were older. We learned the meaning of freedom and independence at a very early age in Woodsdale.
My earliest memories of growing up in Woodsdale involve freedom….freedom to move around the neighborhood without difficulty or overt adult supervision. Times were certainly different then…

Every day except Sunday, the streets filled up with kids. My Mother would routinely force me out of the house with the simple command, “Go outside! You need to get some fresh air.” I apparently needed a great deal of “fresh air” because I spent the entire summer outside. If you weren’t out by 8 a.m. or so, your friends would come to the house calling your name to “come out and play!” The only real requirement was that I had to stay within calling distance or “ear-shot”, and to come home by dinnertime. I can still hear my Mother calling me from our back porch when it was time to come home to eat. Dinnertime was 6 O’clock on the dot at my house. Then it was back outside until the street lights came on.

My first real experience with freedom came when I got my first bicycle on my 6th birthday. My older sisters, Helen and Stell, taught me how to ride. My parents devised strict boundaries. “You can only ride on the sidewalk on our side of Poplar and in the alley between Poplar and Edgewood. No crossing any street.” No problem! That was plenty of roaming space for a 6 year-old. There were four or five boys whose houses shared the alleyway. Most of the girls in the neighborhood lived on Lower Poplar, Lower Maple, and Walnut; therefore, “out of sight and mind.” To a six year old boy at the time, that was not necessarily an objectionable limitation.

I remember roaming from backyard to back yard. Amazingly everyone’s back yard was different, so we rarely got bored. If it rained, we moved to the porches, and out came the board and card games. The mothers of the neighborhood had a network of sorts to keep track of where we were at all times. That is the only way I can explain that no matter whose back yard we were playing in at lunchtime, that mom miraculously appeared with lunch prepared for all us. After lunch we went right back to playing dodge ball, red rover, waffle-ball, mumbley-peg, crazy 8’s, and a strange word game that involved guessing cigarette advertising slogans. For example…”LSMFT”: “Lucky Strike means fine tobacco.” Remember, smoking had not yet been declared a killer. Now you try one. “WTGLACS.”

By the time I was in 3rd grade my boundaries had been expanded to include St. John’s Episcopal Church on Heiskell. The adjacent field had become the neighborhood baseball diamond. The field even had a backstop that some of the dad’s had built to protect the neighboring houses from serious damage. The ball field became the gathering place for all the boys in the neighborhood to learn how to play baseball and football. It is also the first time and place that the boys began to notice that there were girls in the neighborhood. The girls would spend hours practicing cheerleading routines. It all seemed quite natural.

In due course we graduated from St. John’s “field of little dreams” to the official Little League baseball park across National Road. From 4th grade to 8th grade I spent most of those long beautiful summer days playing baseball and penny black jack at the baseball field in Pleasanton, home to the infamous Pike Cubs. Eventually, my friends and I could go just about wherever our bikes, energy, and time available would take us. We thought nothing of riding our bikes after a morning of baseball to Wheeling Park to swim. Believe or not we even rode up to Oglebay Park every now and then. It was tough going up the hill, but absolutely exhilarating riding back down.

My well-travelled bicycle ended up in the basement when I got my driver’s license. True to form, my parent’s assigned boundaries. “You may only drive in Wheeling. You may not cross the river.” No problem! That was plenty of roaming space for a 16 year-old.

Dances, Oglebay, the Bookmobile, the Pirates

Woodsdale dances--so much fun! I also remember going to a Boy Scout dance at St. John's. It was held in the basement.
Oglebay Day Camp was great. There was also Sports Camp when we got older. In the morning we rotated tennis, golf, horseback riding, and boating. We swam each afternoon. I also remember those red busses. Our bus driver looked like Ricky Nelson. All of the girls had a crush on him. At some point in my youth, Glessner Auditorium was added to Wilson Lodge. A sunken ballroom--imagine!
My favorite book from the bookmobile was Lazy Liza Lizard. I'm not sure it's politically correct these days. I actually found one on E Bay and bought it. There were also these books about famous Americans, and all of the pictures in them were silhouettes.
My grandmother and father were avid Pirate fans. I feel so fortunate to have seen Roberto Clemente play baseball. I used to stay up and listen to Bob Prince cover the games. He'd describe a barely foul ball as "closer than fuzz on a tick's ear." The "Bucs" had a few great seasons; I was a sophomore when they were NL champs and played the Yankees in the World Series. In our sixth-period biology class with Bugsy Bullard, we were told "absolutely no radios in class." Game 7,tied, bottom of the ninth: 2-1 pitch to Mazeroski (born in Wheeling)--he slams it over Yogi Berra's head and the left-field fence for the win. All the classrooms erupted in cheers (interesting since we weren't listening). We had a portrait of Lydia Boggs Shepherd Cruger over our sofa. (Lydia and her husband helped to get the National Road pass through Wheeling, and she is an ancestor.) Anyway, there was what looked like a nameplate at the bottom of the painting. Upon closer inspection, one would see that it was really a little sticker that said "Beat 'em Bucs!"

Dancing the night away

At this time of year, it's common for us "girls" to think back to our proms and other formal dances that seemed to be routine occurrences during our school years. This picture, taken in either 1959 or 1960 in the Williams' living room, preceded our going out to eat before the Linsly Military Ball. I can still remember Wick's shy invitation following our meeting up at Woodsdale School where I was hitting (slamming) tennis balls against the side of the building. I was either completing fifth or sixth grade. Going to a dance was about the farthest thing from my mind, especially since I had just broken an upper window. But when Wick asked, I answered yes with such alacrity that even I was surprised. Forget parental consent. My mother was dumfounded and my father bemused, but both consented. Then began the preparations. My hair presented no problem since it was cut Pixie-short and provided no options for a "do." A dress, on the other hand, was THE PROBLEM. However, Barbara Bailey, a beautiful veteran of many formal dances, and her mother found a suitable dress, and with a few minor adjustments, primarily made in the torso...., I became Cinderella. I traded in my shorts, sleevless shirt, and sneakers for a full-length, layered aqua tulle gown with white flats. A beautiful corsage and white gloves completed the ensemble, and I was whisked off to an unforgettable evening where my dance card (actually a little orange book in which young lads signed up for dances-- which I still have) was almost full. Fortunately, both Wick and I had taken ballroom dancing from Louella Parsons (correct name?), so I think we did rather well. Wick, Milt, and Don looked so handsome in their uniforms. Although I went to several balls years later, this first experience will always be the most memorable.

What a Mecca Woodsdale Was!

I can't recall a day that I made the Edgewood, Walnut, Poplar and Maple route on my bike and didn't find someone to play with. I hung around with Rod Otto on Edgewood, Dick Shaffer and, later, Grant Hopkins on Walnut. Bruce McVey and Jimmy Jackson had parties...kissing parties. Post Office was big and Wheeling was too cosmopolitan to play Spin the Bottle and with the sophisticated Donn Caldwell counting down the new Top 40 every Friday...we didn't dare. What a beautiful baby blue Cadillac Donn had. How did Bobby Vinton get out of that one?

My first real remembrances of Woodsdale were before Miss Witten's first grade class in 1953. Woodsdale's playground was everything. It was where I watched Jimmy Jackson's older brother hit baseballs against the wall off Vance Church.. Where Wilson Wanner who lived below Corliss Terrace on Park Road taught me how to ride a bike. Elizabeth Derry was not only first in our class every year along with Suzanne Quinn but she could shoot the lights out of a basketball. Lee Frizzell came to down and outran all the boys and outprettied most of the girls. Woodsdale was where I caught a softball in my solar plexus and passed out before my faced slammed into the playground's asphalt. My, brother, Dana, took me to Mrs Doughty's 2^nd grade class room and she fixed me up. Mary Beth was in the room and I had a crush on her...1954.

Miss Holderman was the fourth grade teacher and all the boys wanted to walk her home up the alley by Vance. Her sister taught at Edgington Lane and when for some reason I was picked to recite a poem in Woodsdale's Poetry Contest, I practiced over there. Phil Polack won the contest and he was awesome. George Doughty who recited the Lord's Prayer got second...geesh. I'm not sure who the judges were but how are you not going to vote for a teacher's son who recites the Lord's Prayer? I recited “My Granny Lost Her Spectacles” and was last and had to wear a suit to school.

Mr. Goddard was the nicest person when I worked at Oglebay Park. I kept hearing all these bad things about him at Woodsdale but he couldn't have been friendlier. And it wasn't because he put Rod Otto and me on the 7^th & 8^th grade basketball team when we were in the 6^th. Mr. Goddard needed bodies. Rod was good and played a lot. I rode the pine but I had my picture in the paper when I substituted for Frank Carney called “The Long and Short of It”. I got to dance with the 7^th & 8^th grade cheerleaders during the noon dance in Woodsdale's gym. They were a head taller.

Vance Church held “King's Daughter's Dances” and my version of the twist didn't elicit a lot of interest on 'Ladies Choice' so I danced with Bobby Gregg. I led. On occasion though, I would walk someone through the park afterwards to Elby's with “La Bamba” and “Summertime Blues” echoing in the hills. Life was good living in Woodsdale...very good.

Johnny Bliss was my next door neighbor on Corliss Terrace and through Woodsdale Kids we have reconnected. I stayed in his awesomely decorated house in Elm Grove last month when my brothers, David and Dana, and I had a reunion. In grade school, I was the liaison between John and Ann Spillars. I, of course, never looked at the notes but wished they had written something with more sizzle then...'Meet you at 4'. John is a talent. At ten years old, he created a radio receiver called a crystal set whose power came from radio waves from a long antenna and not a battery. We would listen to Donn Caldwell. No slouch myself, I hooked up two cans and a string between John's bedroom and mine. We grew bored talking after five minutes and, regrettably, our mothers caught us mooning each other.

Thank you, Kathleen, for 'Woodsdale Kids

the Yoyo Man and teachers

The mention of the Pike Pharmacy reminded me of going over there after school for a cherry phosphate, or a cherry smash. If you wanted a table you had to hustle because there were only 3 or so tables in the back. Most just hung around the front of the store. Every once in a while the "yoyo man" would drop by. He would do tricks with the yoyo and had all different colors and designs carved into them. We would all aspire to be yoyoists for a few days.

I still remember all of my teachers at Woodsdale. In first grade I had Miss Whitten. She was a new teacher but looked old (probably around 40!). In second grade almost everyone had Mrs. Johnson but I got Mrs. Dunn. The room was upstairs and was a split class, if I remember correctly. Third grade--Mrs. Wolfe, Fourth grade--Miss Holderman, Fifth--Miss Fritz, Sixth--Mrs. Doughty.
By seventh grade we had arrived. Which room would be home base: 7-1 (Mrs. Rollins),7-2(Mrs. Cowl), or 7-3 (Mr. Goddard). Eighth grade had 8-1 (Mr. Burgess), 8-2 Miss Pell, and 8-3 Miss Ball.

Mrs. Rollins taught literature, p.e. and was the librarian. I remember one time we were assigned to memorize a poem and nobody did it. Mrs. Rollins said, "How can you learn the word to 'Witch Doctor' and not be able to memorize a poem!" She was talking about oo--ee--oo-aa-aa--ting tans walla walla bing bang. Mrs. Cowl taught music and spelling and art. Mr. Goddard coached and taught science.
Mr. Burgess taught math, Miss Pell was history and geography, and beloved Miss Ball taught most of us all the English we ever needed to know. We would line up in single file to change classses. We were so obedient but enjoyed passing the lines to see friends and flirt with the old eighth graders. More memories forthcoming@

Bookmobile

I'm not really sure what year this photo was taken but I would say the late 40's or early 50's. The bookmobile is now a van and only goes to playgrounds. There was nothing in the world as wonderful as books coming to you practically at your doorstep. And to think that kids today have to be bribed to read during the summer or worse yet ASSIGNED reading!

Summertime and the Livin’ Was Easy…

Even though I was one of those kids who loved school, I always looked forward to summer and its many surprises. The sights, the sounds, the feel, the smell of summer….Growing up in the neighborhoods of Woodsdale, I think we had a freedom that few kids in other ‘burbs were allowed. Curfews were flexible, and we ran wild through the streets. As part of the Meagle Gang, which I think included the fearsome Mary Wheat with whom I got along, I was involved in some nefarious activites. (H.. you may not have considered yourself the "Don" of the Maple Ave. Mafia, but we all did.) However, from at least first grade until junior high, many of my summer days were structured as I went to Oglebay Day Camp, which I would rate as one of the best camps around, public or private. A full-size Wheeling bus would pick us up outside Woodsdale School on Maple Avenue. Clarke Ridgway and others would join me as we walked, unescorted by adults, from upper Maple to the pick-up point several blocks away. Despite the short ride, we filled the time with rollicking songs like “Green Grow the Rushes, Ho” until we reached the campground in the Park. Part of my memories of those times involve heading to the pool for morning swim lessons. There in the cold, early morning air we would earnestly practice the side stroke or the breast stroke on the slatted wooden benches before hitting the frigid water. In order to progress to various levels of proficiency, you had to pass certain tests. One of the tests was floating on your back. Being a really skinny kid in those days, I would begin to float and within seconds sink like a stone. I discovered that if I occasionally “sculled” with my hands, I could stay buoyant long enough to pass.

Later in the day there were games like basketball or dodge ball and crafts where I created hammered copper pictures, tiled ashtrays, tooled leather items, and glued-together popsicle stick pencil holders. I can’t imagine where those treasures are today. Surely my mother wouldn’t have thrown them away? Trips to the Story Tower were a highlight. The counselors always seemed to tell ghost stories that would scare the willies out of us. Of course, the snake pit was a favorite of mine; at some point I was allowed to climb down into it and someone snapped a picture of me draped in reptiles (training for the Fulton Carnival in case nothing else panned out later in life). We went on frequent nature hikes and sat around a campfire near the beginning of one of the trails.

At the end of the camp day, there was plenty of time and daylight to ride bikes on the sidewalk, play hopscotch, jump rope, play baseball, football, or basketball, and later organize Hide and Seek or Mother May I while our parents sat out on the front porches talking to neighbors on either side or across the street, their conversations often drowned out by the din of the locusts. I can still feel the oppressive heat of some of those nights when, after going to bed, even the weight of a sheet was too much. The large attic fan did little to cool down the bedroom my sister and I shared.

Certain vehicles played a big part in our summertime experiences. Once a week the Bookmobile parked at the end of lower Poplar and ___ (I can’t remember the cross street). A voracious reader, I would check out as many books as allowed. Often, was it daily? the ice cream truck could be heard a block away, and we all hotfooted it home for change. Generally, I bought sky blue popsicles. Vinny would drive through the neighborhood as well with lovely fresh vegetables. Even though he had tomatoes, my dad and Mr. Ridgway seemed to have a competition as to who could grow the biggest, best tomatoes and supply the street with their bountiful crop. Both of them planted their seedlings against the garages in the alley, and both were very successful. Even when we moved to Massachusetts in 1966, my dad would continue to raise tomatoes.

Besides tomatoes, we all loved corn and would go out the creek to a farm and buy what the farmer said was “pig” corn because it was underdeveloped in his opinion. My mother was insistent that the small kernels were sweeter, and to this day, I still look for that type of corn. Although I was not a watermelon lover, some of us did "liberate" those Kroger melons stacked outside the store on National Road. Recently I read on Facebook that there were others who engaged in the same activity. Kroger's must have suffered a loss on watermelon sales.

Summer also meant our annual circus at Larry Curry’s house next door to the Ridgway’s. Today we probably would have auditioned for “America’s Got Talent,” but then we tortured our family and neighbors, forcing them to pay for the privilege of watching us make total fools of ourselves. Of course, for a price, we did provide lemonade so they didn’t succumb to heatstroke during the performances. We set up chairs, curtained off areas, and had a table for selling tickets. I can’t remember the specific “acts,” but I know that Larry’s unusual swing set was involved in one of the numbers which mimicked a trapeze stunt, and there was always the perfunctory magic trick or two. I think we built a human pyramid, and I may have completely embarrassed myself by doing a ballet number.

Perhaps the most anticipated event in our neighborhood was the Strawberry Festival just up the street at St. John’s. The adults probably enjoyed the strawberry shortcake, but I think we kids liked the games. Before and after the festival the ballfield in the church yard was the scene of many hotly contested baseball games. Of course, my sister may not remember that space too fondly since, while acting as catcher, she was hit in the mouth by a baseball bat.

Basketball hoops in the various alleys were frequent sites for games of HORSE, and plastic pools could be seen in the backyards throughout the neighborhood. No slip 'n slides back then but plenty of yard sprinklers through which we would run.

All-in-all, summers in Woodsdale were idyllic.

You are the light of my life

On two occasions the light of my life was tens of thousands of volts. My first experience I can recall was on the typical insane camping trip our family took. In the mountains at Horseshoe Bend State Park the day had gone by pleasantly. Late in the afternoon we set up my fathers newest invention. In some flash of brilliance my father came up with the idea you could make a huge tent out of a parachute. All you had to do was get the parachute water proofed. Now with your water proof parachute you simply throw a line high into some tall tree. With people spread everywhere, and probably somewhere in the mix a automatic handgun. Since sometimes my older sisters would be the only adults around at night they were left with a gun. There is no better reason I can think of for gun control. No sooner did we start to sleep than one of the worst mountain thunderstorms imaginable hit. It was immediately evident there was not one once of waterproofing in that parachute. As we became soaked the need to move to shelter became apparent. So we packed everything we could in a metal car top carrier and headed for a picnic shelter about a hundred yards across an open field. For some reason at that time I had a broken wrist. On my arm was a steel cast to hold my wrist in place. I recall four of us walking across the field with a steel car top carrier and a metal wrist cap in a terrible lightening storm saying strike me dead Jeesus. About half way across the field a bolt of lightening came right at us. It was very strange. On the end of the bolt was what looked like a glowing florescent green soft ball. For no known reason it stopped in mid air before it hit us. We made it to the shelter and spent the night. The next day there were stories that someone had been killed nearby in the storm.

Many years later I was deep in the boonies in Ritchie county with my brother Colin. I must have been old enough to drive. A bad storm came up and I decided to wait it out before heading down the dirt road. As Colin and I sat on the couch on the front porch a bolt of lightening hit the phone line less than twelve feet away. To this day I can distinctly remember what it looked like. The bolt came horizontally out of the wall. It appeared like a glass tube about eight inches in diameter filled with cotton balls. The storm subsided and I headed to Wheeling. Later I talked to Colin and he said lightening hit the phone two more times after I left. Strangely nothing was damaged. Later it was reported the phone line which ran a mile down the valley under ground was improperly grounded. A lighting rod one mile long lead to our farm house.

Since those days I have been sailing in many lightening storms. I have never enjoyed it. Once while sailing in a race a lightening bolt went across the sky. A sailor in a competing boat yelled up at the sky " You missed". The next bolt hit his boat. There was no damage, but he was more respectful.

Summer of the Front Porch Swing

Summers at 26 Poplar usually found me on the front porch swing - rain or shine - with a book. Usually, Nancy Drew was my first choice or something from the bookmobile. There were some nice interruptions; watching neighbors or Rex chase a car, mail from Wilbur, waiting for the ice cream truck, occasionally see Pete Grubb on his big blue motorcycle with American flags, or watching my brothers and our neighborhood friends get into mischief of some kind.
Later (at about 12 yrs.) I watched from the roof top outside the attic window. This was a much better place for spying. I thought that I was up there in my bathingsuit getting a tan out of sight, but I'm sure more than one adult let my mother know that I was there.
Summers seemed to go by so slowly! Such a leisurely pastime with nothing in particular to do. Summer nights were also the absolute best! Playing games in the neighborhood until the street lights came on and then if we were lucky, we'd get to sleep out on someone's porch.
I currently don't have a wrap around porch on my house or a swing or a neighborhood anything like the one in Woodsdale in the 60's, wish that I did. But then I think I would need a time machine to make it perfect.

Big Elby's

Yes, children there was a Big Boy's. No Rax, Wendy's, Burger King and worst of all NO McDonalds. I remember well when Elby's Big Boy opened where Perkins is now probably about 1958 or 59. My grandfather LOVED it and would call up and order DOZENS of Big Boy burgers, then get on the phone, call the Quinnery and say "I've got Big Elby's over here"! He only lived two houses away so we were off and running.

At first they had speakers like the drive in where you could order from your car and then a girl would bring your order to the car, hook a tray to your open window and leave your food. That was pretty cool. By the time I was in high school, Elby's became THE place to see and be seen. You had to hang out there in a car and see who was with whom and what they were driving. Many a drag race was arranged there. After every football game everyone gathered inside and table hopped. Each table had a jukebox selection machine and I can remember sitting there late at night playing Johnny Mathis songs and waiting for a ride to Morgantown to visit university guys (they knew how to party better than high school guys).

The best sandwich on the menu was the Slim Jim...ham and pickles and whatnot... DELICIOUS and the strawberry pie was to die for.

Grandma Drove a Woody

My dear old Granny drove a car sort of like the one shown here. It was the first "station wagon" I ever saw. In it we would go exciting places...like that far away village called Elm Grove. To a Woodsdale Kid distance was strange. Elm Grove was a different town, Pittsburgh was a galaxy far, far away, and going to the "seashore" took two days of driving with an overnite stop. Wait a minute...we kids weren't driving, so it must have been the adults who had a strange conception of time and distance! Yes, that's it...anything outside our neighborhood was a "trip" as in a trip to town. One of the places that Grandad took us was Sunset Pool. On hot summer days we would get in the woody and take off for Sunset. I don't know why he preferred that pool to Oglebay...both were just as wet, but all of us would pile in and off we would go.

Woodsdale Kids probably first saw a supermarket when they traveled to Elm Grove to the old A & P store which was located about where McDonalds is now. I can remember my mother grinding her own coffee beans and to this day I don't drink coffee because I hated the smell. But oh the plentitude! the number of items one could buy was gynormous compared to our usual store Johnson's on Heiskell Avenue. I think I prefered Johnson's though the aisles were tight and the goods were limited it was "home". There were benefits to going to Elm Grove though....my mother believed that Islay's klondike bars and Canada Dry gingerale could cure any ailment a child could come up with...and she kept a stock on hand. It seemed strange to me that a store that sold ice cream would also sell ham salad, but hey the universe is crazy, eh? Eventually the Kroger store moved from next to "the drug store" (Pike Pharmacy) to a MUCH bigger store where CVS pharmacy is now on the National Road so Krogers became "our" supermarket. I loved the way they stacked the watermelons outside and left them there all night. As a teen I and some girlfriends "borrowed" some. Hiding them beneath a trenchcoat and looking very pregnant, we dashed barefoot across National Road, thru Woodsdale Park and home for a feast. Oh, the thrill and excitement of a late night adventure ...sure made that melon taste good.

Woodsdale Kids grew up with their parents calling the refrigerator the "ice box". Kids today probably don't understand why we say "hang up" when referring to a phone call instead of "push end". I can still remember our first phone number Woodsdale 1431 and then later it became Cedar 232-3663. Of course the phones were rotary dial not push button. Who else has Woodsdale memories of funny terms that longer make sense today? Please share them.