The Quest for Banana Pudding

I planned to have my final Union City meal at PV’s Hut. I was eagerly anticipating a greasy burger and a big serving of the luscious banana pudding I have remembered so vividly all these years. But, alas, it was not to be. Not only had the literal “hut” moved from its original location in the alley behind the Davy Crockett Hotel, but the newer, larger PV’s Hut was closed on Sunday, my last day in town.

Disappointed, but not defeated, I decided to track down my other childhood favorite: Dairy Queen. I think I found it, but the name was Dairy Cream, not Dairy Queen and that threw me off. Although the sign said OPEN, there were no cars and no customers— definitely a negative indication. Foiled again, I realized there was one more nostalgic place to try: the A&W Root Beer Stand, Union City’s only drive-in restaurant in 1960. Well, that too, was gone and in its place was BADBOB’S Barbeque Restaurant. Frustrated but hungry, I decided to give it a try.

To my great surprise and delight, Banana Pudding was BADBOB’S featured dessert! I ordered a half slab of ribs, slaw and pudding. Naturally, I commenced to eat the pudding first. Yum yum was that good! After devouring every bit of the extra large container of pudding I had no room for anything else! Nor did I wish to spoil the ultra-sweet flavor combination of bananas, yellow pudding, vanilla wafers and whipped cream lingering in my mouth.

I departed Union City with a contented smile on my face and a satisfied tummy full of pudding.

More of Union City

I can't say that Union City looked like I remembered it in 1962 because it has changed in 44 years. There are now several stores, a strip mall, fast food joints, a new state of the art library and 2 motels on the edge of town since I lived there.

Happily, downtown is much the same, except that most of the store names have changed. I think Main Street is quite attractive and I hope business continues to flourish there despite the addition of a Walmart outside town.

Regrettably, the once proud Davy Crockett Hotel, pictured here, is now a cheerless Senior Citizen Center which rents apartments to low income folks over 50. Fortunately, the Obion County Court House is still an impressive and imposing structure.

I was very pleased to see that the Capital Theatre, Union City's only movie theatre when I was a kid, has been beautifully restored and now houses live theatrical productions. I remember the sign above the small door to the left of the box office read "Colored Entrance." Steep steps lead up to the balcony where we sometimes sat on a dare. Movies were 10 cents during the summer. Right next door is Bennett's, the men's store now owned by Raiford Tarvor who was so instrumental in planning our reunion.

Where I Lived

Also from my mother's album is this photo of the house on Bishop Street from 1957 or 58. That's our Chevy in the car port. My bedroom window is the one on the right.




The house has change a little since then--looks like the windows were replaced and maybe the roof was changed. Incidentally, that is the JCC behind our house. I remember riding my pink Schwinn bicycle around and around the empty JCC parking lot while listening to early rock and roll on my portable pink transistor radio.

Several other Jewish families also lived on Bishop Street (Dave Shatz, Joe Shatz, Mark Shatz, Izzy Rubenstein) and I believe it was referred to as " Little Jerusalem." NOTE Patsy supplied the correct term--I had thought it was Little Israel--but she set me straight.

Unless the Falkoff's had taken me to the duplex on Division Street I would never have known where it was, nor would I have recognized it. I believe we lived there about a year while our house on Bishop Street was being built. While taking pictures, I had a run in with the current owner. She rushed out demanding to know what I wanted. She was leery of my assertion that I used to live there, and only after a lengthy explanation of who my family was and why I was there, did I feel her skepticism give way, a little. She was greatly relieved when we drove off.

On Being Jewish in Union City

The morning after the big event, was my last opportunity to visit all the remaining sights I wanted to see before leaving. The Falkoff’s were kind enough to escort me again and I am so thankful because I doubt I would have found everything on my own. They had invited Ruth and Harry Gorman—more friends of my parents, to breakfast and we had a good time catching up on relatives and friends.

First stop was the Jewish Community Center—which the Leonard and Irving Berlins were instrumental in creating in the late 1950’s. Before the JCC was built, we attended Sunday School in a room at the Davie Crockett Hotel! Because the number of Jewish families has dwindled, the center is being used now by a church. We went inside and I was invited to take some mementos from the Jewish Library. I took two Purim noise makers and a Haggadah which was used for Passover Seder Services.

This photo is from one of those Passover Seders, probably in 1957. It was included in a beautiful album my mother put together for me when I turned 50. The numbers are hers and indicate in order: Esther and Leonard Berlin (my parents), Irving and Muriel Berlin, Happy and Richard Berlin, my cousin Patti, her brother Lee, our grandparents Abe and Anna Berlin, my brother Andrew and me. The man in profile in the lower center is the very Harry Gorman I had breakfast with this morning. I'm sure all the other Jewish families were there, too and I wish I had photos of them.

When I lived there, about 10 or 15 Jewish families dwelt in Union City and surrounding small towns. Many people have asked if I felt prejudice growing up as a Jew in this small community and my truthful answer is NO. I asked Ron about it this weekend and neither of us remembers any problems. The community has many churches and most people are religious and obviously quite tolerant of other’s beliefs. On the other hand, Ron told me that his mother broke up a high school romance of her oldest son because the girl wasn't Jewish.

The only issue I recall was that my babysitter, old Mrs. Cooper tried mightily to convert my brother and me because she was convinced we would burn in hell for eternity if we didn’t accept Christ as our Savior. And although she genuinely succeeded in terrifying us, Mrs Cooper was no match for my parent’s beliefs.

The Big Celebration

Every year during the Labor Day Weekend, Mike Cox holds a reunion party poolside, at his house for all UCHS classes that graduated in the 1960’s. So our 1966 group--about 35 graduates and their spouses/dates/significant others attended this large gala event on Saturday night. Mike’s house and grounds are magnificent; the food was fabulous, and the drinks were flowing all night. One of our classmates, Steve Oseman supplied an great band and the party totally rocked!

While everyone there wore name tags, our group had special yearbook photo IDs which were so helpful. (Thank you, Raiford!!!) After 40 years I could vaguely pick out some recognizable features of most of the folks, but didn’t fully realize who they were for sure until I looked at the old photo and name. What a riot. I was so busy catching up with old friends that I didn’t get all the photos I wanted, but here is a sampling.

Several of our contemporaries were unable to attend and were sorely missed. Patsy and Phyllis—I would have really enjoyed seeing you! A few classmates have passed away and have been remembered in a memorial our class gave to the high school. My friends Pama, Brenda and Marietta are among them.

Interestingly, many people at the party, including those not in my class, told me how much they were enjoying my BLOG. I am delighted.

I parted with promises of future visits and continuing contact.

Sightseeing with the Falkoffs Part 2

Returning from Clinton, we stopped at the Falcoff’s house for a quick visit with Merlin Cohen, former Union City Dentist who now lives, coincidentally, in Arizona. After retiring, Merlin started a second career as a sculptor. His work will soon be exhibited in a Scottsdale Art Gallery and I am looking forward to it there soon.

Then I had a wonderful treat, an old fashioned, southern fried catfish dinner complete with hush puppies, slaw, homemade apple sauce, fried okra and iced tea. In front of a pond, surrounded by a fruit orchard, Flippens Hungry Hillbilly Restaurant is as quaint and down home as could be. The food was perfect and unfortunately we were just too stuffed to have their specialty dessert—fried pies. I bought several jars of their homemade, sugar-free preserves to enjoy at home and give as gifts.

What a great day! And the Saturday night reunion party was still to come.

Sightseeing with the Falkoffs Part 1

I've just spend the most wonderful day with Ellise and Julius Falkoff. We started off early with a big country breakfast at Traditions. When I saw the menu, I decided my usual sensible breakfast could wait until I returned home. Instead I had eggs, a giant slice of country ham and two biscuits (couldn't handle the gravy though).



Then we were off to Clinton KY to see the factory. Not only is it still there, but also it looks exactly as I pictured it in my imagination--except a bit dulled by age. (But aren't we all?) Julius had arranged for us to meet Mr. Robert Lee Veatch, now 90 years old, who was in large part responsible for getting the Berlins to build the factory in Clinton. He was the President of the First National Bank and the Chamber of Commerce and he remembered the Berlins quite well. He told us that he personally interviewed and vouched for each employee who worked there. He also remembered that while the factory was being built, his bank paid the several years of back taxes on the VFW building so it could be occupied to train the new employees on the cutting, sewing and pressing machines. Currently the factory is owned by Peerless-Premier and they make fireplaces.

There is much more to tell about the rest of the day--but now I have to get ready for the big event tonight. Stay tuned . . .

Reunion!

I just returned from the first reunion activity and it was a blast from the past. We met at our old High School Cafetaria (which is now the Junior High School) and then went to the UCHS football game. After the half-time show we went to Traditions Restaurant to hang out and talk.

My trip started very early this morning. After flying into Memphis and driving about 2 hours up Highway 51, I arrived in UC just in time to get over to the school. Tomorrow I will have a chance to look around, but tonight was spent with old friends.

I hope to take more photos tomorrow, but here's me with Nancy, Emily and Phoeba.

Seeing My Young Reflection

I am reading Floating in My Mother's Palm by Ursula Hegi and came across this passage which seems very appropriate in light of the upcoming reunion. She is writing about a group of old ladies in Germany, but the sentiment applies to any friends who were young together.

"Though they had wrinkles and gray hair, these women didn't think of themselves as old; it was an unspoken fact that each of them carried within, a fact that didn't need to be confirmed because there was always someone who could remember them as girls and recall a half-forgotten detail, someone who--beneath the fine web of lines--still saw the child's face.

They did this for each other, the old women, pulling out the albums of class picnics, of trips to Kaiserswerth and Schloss Burg, pointing to their younger images in fading photographs and whispering to each other: "Remember?" And they continued to do so until they were in their eighties or nineties because, as long as there was someone who had known them as girls, someone who could recollect the quick movements of their limbs, the graceful turn of their smooth necks--they could gaze into their mirrors and see their young reflections."

I spent some time today at Kinkos scanning photos from old albums and I look forward to sharing these electronic images of our own class picnics and parties with my childhood friends. Perhaps we, too, will see each other as perpetually youthful.


This photo was from a slumber party at my house in July 62. That's me on the bottom left, then Emily, Nancy, Wilma, Phyllis, Mary Lynn, and Pama--in our nightgowns.


I leave for Tennessee first thing tomorrow morning and will be taking my laptop so I can continue to BLOG while I am there.

The House on Bishop Street

In less than a week I will be in Union City and I’ve got a list of the special places I want to see.

First, of course, is my childhood home. I have a photo of it from 1960 and wonder if it has changed much. A friend wanted to know if I would knock on the door and ask to look inside—but I doubt I will.

I have a very clear memory of the interior of that house, which my mother tells me was designed by my father. One of its special features was in my bedroom closet--a secret hiding place. It was a hole in the wall about a foot or two wide at shoulder hight, no doubt a construction error. The downside of this hiding place was that once something went in, it could not be retrieved because it simply fell to the bottom of the space between the walls. Being astute, I realized it was perfect for the most super confidential stuff.

So if you live at 621 Bishop Street you are sitting on treasure trove of late 1950’s teen goodies. But you’ll have to knock down the closet wall to recover them.

Here is how dumb I was--more than once I held and then dropped lit matches into the hole trying to see down to the bottom of it. How crazy was that? Yikes!

I had easy access to matches even as a 10 year old because I possessed an exotic matchbook collection started by my parents from their many travels. It is a wonder I didn’t set the house on fire.

Which reminds me of one of the most traumatic events of my sheltered childhood . . .

My parents were away for a week and my maternal grandparents came from New Jersey to stay with my brother and me. In the middle of the night I awoke to the sight of flashing red lights through my curtains, reflected in the mirror. Standing on my bed to look out the window I could see nothing except the lights—not where they were coming from. Heart pounding and afraid to wake anyone, I tiptoed through the house to get a better look. There I watched in shock and awe to see the house next door burning. The lights were from the fire engines which I now clearly saw. I don’t know why no one else woke up, but I was the only one in our house who witnessed it. I stared out the window for a long time and finally went back to sleep convinced I must have dreamed the whole thing.

But the next morning I saw proof that it had really happened. To my great relief I learned that the elderly neighbors survived. They had escaped by climbing out the bathroom window. This was pretty miraculous considering that window was relatively small and high off the ground, and they were no spring chickens (or so it seemed at the time).

Thankfully, that was the closest I have come to a house fire.

Another Union City Coincidence

Yesterday I went to lunch with a co-worker, Gail Thompson and she asked about my upcoming travel plans. My job involves frequent travel and I told her that as soon as I returned from Salt Lake City I was heading for a HS reunion in Tennessee.

I got the standard response, “You lived in Tennessee!?!” (See previous Blog on this subject.)

When she asked what town I lived in I assured her she couldn’t possibly have heard of Union City. But to our mutual amazement, she not only knew of it, but has been there many times! Turns out her first college roommate at Murray State in KY was Candy Roberts, from Union City and Gail spent many holidays there with Candy’s family.

Although Gail has lost contact with Candy, this twist of fate has prompted her to try to reconnect. She believes Candy is still in Union City, married (so her last name is different) and working as a nurse. She would have graduated from UCHS around 1973. I wonder if any of my Union City friends know Candy. Maybe I’ll even encounter her when I go there next week. Certainly stranger things have happened.

The Cruel Truth about the Easter Chicks

I got an email today from Laura Filler, Stuart's daughter, asking me to take a picture of the exterior of the former Dotty Shop, her grandmother's store. This got me thinking about her grandmother Shen (Ron's mother) and a memory came back to me from my first year in Union City. I was 7.

My cousin Lee is a year older and the two of us were inseparable. We were adventurous children who were allowed the freedom to explore our neighborhood unsupervised.

One day we stumbled upon a poultry business housed in a dilapidated wooden building. We hid behind some bushes and watched in horror as a creepy-looking man, sitting on a crate in the doorway, grabbed chickens, one at a time, and cut off their heads. Most of them just died, but one chicken "ran around like a chicken with its head cut off"--literally! That is a vision I will never forget and would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.



We ran home, terrified. But pretty soon we got up the nerve to go back and one weekend when the building was closed, we found a way to sneak inside. To our utter amazement we discovered dozens of pink, blue and green baby chicks. Being Jewish, we were not familiar with Easter Baskets and did not know about pastel-dyed chicks. Naturally, our younger siblings didn't believe a word of our story so we brought them back with us later that day.

We were so charmed by the little chicks that we decided to take several home as pets and stuffed them in our pockets. I can't imagine what lie we told our parents when we showed up with the chickens--but they could not have fathomed that their darling children were thieves.

Needless to say, we were not allowed to keep the chicks. After all, our NY parents had no idea what or how to feed a chicken. Plus chicken poop in the house was the last straw. Our mothers told us Mrs Filler kept chickens in her yard and that our chicks would be much happier there. Although disappointed, I believed it.

Today, half a century later, I found out the cruel truth from Laura:

"upon my inquiry, Ronnie said Shen stepped on two of the chicks and the rest the maid killed and they ate them for dinner. I think your parents were wrong about the Filler family."