February 3, 2009

               HUCK FINN AND THE RIDE TO SHEA AND BACK

By Ned Burt

There was no one better at telling a baseball story than Francis "Huck" Finn.  Huck played ball with the West Haven Sailors and his tales of lore include legendary Yale athlete Albie Booth to tales of Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams and Satchel Page.  He always made the Greater New Haven Diamond Club Meetings interesting and his threat to move to The Three Judges Cave with former New Haven Register Sports' Reporter and avid Red Sox Fan, George "Wads" Wadley and three German Sheppards is a tale you should have Huck tell you when you see him in heaven above.

There is one tale that I can relay to you that was far from Huck's heavenly home.  Dan Gooley, legendary baseball coach at Quinnipiac University, invited a group of friends from the Diamond Club to go to Shea Stadium one hot July afternoon.  The group consisted of Gools, Wads, Huck, myself, and my brighter Chris.  We were going to see Dan's former player and certain Hall of Famer Jeff Bagwell and his Houston Astros play the Mets.  Dan's next door neighbor and friend, Mickey White, was also going to the game with his son.

                                                           Ed Goldstone, Ernie Williams, Sam Burrell & Dan Gooley

Mickey was a scout for the Seattle Mariners and would draft Hamden star Scott Burrell in the first round of the Major League Baseball Draft.  Scotty went on to have an outstanding career at the University of Connecticut and then in the NBA.  He is now as assistant basketball coach at Quinniipiac University.

Mickey drove down in his car with his son.  They were seated behind home plate.  Everyone else drove down with me.  We parked inside the gates at Shea Stadium and everyone decided it would be best to leave their wallets in my trunk and to just take enough cash to buy beers and hot dogs in the stadium.  It was New York after all and Huck told everyone they needed to be safe so leave their wallets in the trunk.

We were seated out in the left field stands with the hot July sun pouring down on us.  What was being poured into us was something all together different than the humid summer sun.  It got to be the seventh inning and instead of a 7th inning stretch Huck who was in his late 70's had had enough.  He told me it was time to go and let the others know we were leaving.  While Dan, Wads and Chris did their stretch Huck and I said our goodbyes and told them to get a ride home with Mickey and his son.  We would see them all at the Diamond Club Meeting that night at Septembers (which is now The Belvedere.)

Remember, this was in the day when no one had cell phones.  Huck and I were off to the highway and well on our way home when we realized we had everyone's wallets.  No concern, we'd drop Dan's off at this house and I would give Wads and my brother back theirs at our meeting.  So, Huck and I drove to Dan's house located behind Hamden Hall School in Hamden just off Whitney Avenue.

I knocked on his door but no one was home.  I tried to open the screen door to drop the wallet through the mail slot but it was locked.  No cause for concern.  I walked down two houses and knocked at Mickey's door knowing that Mary Ann would be home.  I rang the bell and from the window above who appeared but Mickey White.  "Nedder, what are you doing here?"  I gasped, swallowed hard and exclaimed, "What are you doing here?" realizing immediately that if Mickey and his son were home that Gools, Wads and my brother were still at Shea Stadium with no wallets and no more money!

"Where is Gools,/" Mickey asked innocently.  I told him we told them to get a ride home with him and that Huck and I left in the seventh inning.  He told me he had left in the fifth inning.  I actually started to laugh and so did Mickey.

I went back to the car and told Huck what had happened.  It was pure Huck.  "Screw 'em.  I just hope they take the right turn out of Shea and don't end up in the Bronx.  They can use their thumbs.  I used my for years and I'm no worse for the wear."

You think that President Bush was the first one to have a shoe thrown at him.  I was sitting at a booth at September's with Ernie "Manny" Williams, former President of the Walter Camp Football foundation and as good a friend as anyone could ever find, Jim Kirby, Sam Burrell and Huck.  Next thing I know is a large shoe comes flying past my head.  It was Wadley's toss and I'm glad he missed.

The lot of them had stopped every car in the Shea Parking Lot with a Connecticut License Plate Number.  Two kids on the North Haven Baseball Team gave them a lift home and we all had a story for the ages.

Huck died several years ago and left behind his nicer than nice daughter, Joan Bonci, married to the handsome Carl Bonci.  Wads departed this earth after him.  Wads was a great coach and incredible writer.  I always wanted Wads to write my Obituary.  He just had a way with words. 

So today, in thinking of our friend, Bob Greenwood, who left this earth on January 31, 2009, it brings back a flood of baseball memories and of all the wonderful people I have met in sports.  I feel privileged to have known Bob and Huck and Wads and am glad to still count among my friends guys like Gools, Manny, Kirbs, Sam, Mickey and so many other wonderful people in the Connecticut Sports World.

HAMDEN HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF 1973 35TH YEAR REUNION BLISS

 

My Take on My 35^th High School Reunion

By Paul J. Cohen 12-24-08

 

 

            Pattie Matthews and I had been talking up the impending 35^th reunion of Hamden High School Class of 1973 for at least two years. I had missed the 30^th reunion due to circumstances beyond my control and had committed to attending 35 as soon as I knew it was going to happen.

                                                                    Pattie Mathews and Lori Onofrio--our Co-Captains of the Reunion Cmte.

 

            I did some arm twisting and was able to convince a few of my high school band buddies to attend for the first time, so I was really looking forward to this reunion.  I had convinced Steve McDermott and Paul Berzinis to attend. We were all best buds in high school, spending most of our non-class hours in the band room before band geek became chic.  We were all pretty good partiers as well, Steve and I often spending Friday nights with the guys and our favorite spirits.

                                                                     Mary Freeman Young and Paul Cohen

 

            I also knew that Mary Freeman Young and Mallie McWeeney Cohen would be in attendance and looked forward to seeing them as well. Mary is one of my oldest and dearest friends, having attended my Bar Mitzvah in 1968.  I always viewed her as the one that got away, but in reality, I had no chance, as she spent high school in love with a very talented and muscular trumpet player. Mallie was quiet and reserved in high school and dated the uber bandsman, Skip Gelati. I had heard that she was far less reserved now and was anxious to see if this was indeed the case.

                                                       Can you name these grade school friends?

 

Since I now live in the Baltimore area, I had to do some planning on this, since the reunion fell on the weekend after Thanksgiving, and on the same day as my father’s 84^th birthday.  Since I had blown off my family for Thanksgiving, I had to squeeze in a visit to them on the weekend, as well as get my son back to Wesleyan.   I launched my plan and hoped for the best!

 

             I left my hotel right around 7:00 so I could be fashionably late. Of course, I couldn’t find the restaurant (which was supposedly no more than 10 minutes from the hotel), so I arrived at around 7:30. (Give me a break, I haven’t lived in Connecticut since 1977!)  I plunged headfirst into the maelstrom of the meet and greet at the bar and it was on!

 

            Simply put, I had a fantastic time at the reunion! I spoke to several people whom I had rarely spoken to in high school (Lori Forlini Onofrio and Frank DeStefano), to others who were friends that I hadn’t seen in 35 years (Artie Lavorgna, Patty Fitzgerald McCauliffe (who I would walk to school with in second grade at Bear Path School) and Ray “El Habib” Shia among others) and still others who I still communicate with after all these years.  My band buddies, Steve and Paul, looked pretty much as they did during high school, Steve still having a full head of hair (damn him).  Steve is happily married with three kids and works at UConn after having spent years at Phoenix Insurance involved in commercial production.  Paul is happily single, the proud owner of new knees and a real sportsman.  The music was great (the guy who provided the playlist to the DJ knew his stuff) and I danced a ton with a bevy of beautiful women.  (First rule of thumb: NEVER bring your spouse to a reunion unless he or she went to the same school). As an aside, it seems to me that the women age far more gracefully than do the men. Cases in point: Mallie, who now works in the consumer credit business and has definitely “let her hair down,” and Marianne Esposito looked phenomenal, and Mary, who is a Vice President involved with fund raising at Sacred Heart University, is still gorgeous.   This was the fourth reunion I have attended and in my opinion, it was the best yet! My friends who were attending their first reunion wondered why they hadn’t gone before.  When it ended, many people didn’t want to leave, so we continued with an after party at Eli’s in Hamden. It is safe to say that that was the first time I have closed a bar down in many years! 

                                                                                                                                              Mallie and Paul

 

            I consider reunions to be special events.  They give you an opportunity to connect with old friends, make new ones and go back to a time where things were simpler for most of us. We all share this bond in which we should revel.  You can also see how people have grown and changed and where their lives have taken them, oftentimes with most unexpected twists and turns.  The beauty of these events is that the petty rivalries of high school are forgotten and the cliques no longer exist. Everybody is your friend.  I still cannot understand the mindset of those who have never attended a reunion for whatever reason. They are certainly missing wonderful and special events.

                                                                    A HAND FULL OF BEAUTIES

 

            Now that it is over, I need to start bugging Pattie about the 40^th.  I intend to be there.

 

           You can contact Paul directly at pcohen@commerciallawyer.com.

 

CLASS OF 1973 HHS MEMORIES THAT LAST A LIFE TIME: GOOD & BAD

By Edward C. "Ned" Burt, Jr. 12-24-08

Man, where did the time go?  This is my 35th High School Reunion (Hamden High Class of 1973).  I still think of those days back at good old Hamden High with fond, fond memories. The friends I met there are still friends today.  Is it really 35 years?  I have been on the Reunion Committee since we first started doing our reunions years ago.  My God, I remember a reunion we ran at September's Restaurant in New Haven.  It is where the Belvedere is now just off the highway after the tunnel.  Ricky Gentile and I were two members of the committee and we had to check the place out.
                                                                                                            

Coleman Walsh, Sr., as fine a man as you'd want to meet, and the father of my friend and classmate, Bill Walsh, came strolling by with his ever present pipe in mouth.  "What a shame about Earl Downing, huh?” he said as if I knew what had happened.  He had a Register tucked up under his arm that he had just picked up and was reaching for some pipe tobacco out of the glass sliding case where the cigars were kept.  I said, "What happened to Earl"?
 
He stopped half way down on his way to his package.  He stood up straight, looked at me and as he was saying sorry he turned over the Register.  The same Register that I had been putting together that very morning.  The lower part of the front page had a picture on it.  It was a picture of a car smashing into a tree on Cherry Hill Street in Hamden.  It was taken at night.  The tree was a solid old oak tree.  It was heavily damaged but not as much as the car.
 
It was my friend Earl Downing's car.  Earl was dead.  I slumped against one of the candy counters.  I was numb.  I wanted to cry but couldn't.  My eyes teared up as they are now thirty five years later.   I remember being numb that entire day.  I remember crying when I went back home.  It still bothers me today to think what the world lost when we lost Earl on this earth.  And our high school friends mourned over Earl at school and I'm sure elsewhere--but especially that following week at school with graduation less than a month away.

                                                            Kevin Smith, Ray Shia & Vinnie Cimino
 
I put Earl's picture in my sock our very next baseball game.  Little did I know that his picture would have company before I played again. 
 
Mike Reilly, my friend and classmate.  Charter Member of the Honored and Beloved Doggers' Club of Carl Westberg's famed Hamden High School Cross Country Team would lose his life the very next week.  Mike, Coleman Walsh Jr., Paul Brezinis, Bob Stock, John Wright and a few other fine men formed the Dogger's Club our sophomore year in high school.. This would have been our first year of high school back then as it was only 10th, 11th, and 12th grade at the MOM school on Dixwell.  Colch Westberg as we liked to call him was a gentle man. 
 
 Maybe it was his Norwegian descent but Colch was the perfect high school coach.   Always encouraging us, working us hard, nothing but positives out of his mouth and a consistent manner in handling all of his troops--from super star to well, shall I politely say, members of the Doggers' Club.  He had one route that we'd take from the Rink out to Eramo Terrace.  We'd all wait for the entire team to get there and then we'd run back to the rink.  At least I should say, some of us would run back to the rink.

                          Kathy Stevens, Sharon Setzer, and Robin Kramer
 
The Doggers' Club Members would wait for us to get going and then at about the Public Works Buildings on Shepard Ave. these guys would stick out their thumbs and hitch rides back to the rink.  They would pass us on the way waiving to some of us but making sure they ducked when they passed Colch Westberg.  They'd get back way ahead of us and shower, change and leave before we made it back into the locker rooms.  I still laugh thinking about the times Colch Westberg would be waiting for these guys up at the rink wondering what took them so long.
 
I wasn't laughing when I heard about Mike.  Mike was just one of the guys.  A great teammate, fun to be around and actually a darn good cross country and track man.  Mike was one of those guys that just got along with everyone.  He could bust them off on you without you being offended and take it just as well as he gave it.  I literally shook--my entire body shook--when I heard about Mike's death.  I put his picture in my other sock the very next game.  I cried and actually shook when I took the field.   I dedicated those games I had left to Earl and Mike but frankly I was drained of whatever energy I had.  I felt empty and lost.  Life had paid our class a heavy lesson and it certainly didn't compare to what the Downing and Reilly family dealt with then and now; yet with the help of Ted Stevens and Kathy Stevens the memories of these two fine, young men and others who we have lost since from our class were memorialized in a slide show which mesmerized those in attendance.

                            Priscilla DeStefano and Nita Walter

                                   (If I looked this good, I'd take a pix of myself too)

                                                            
 
 
 
 
I feel selfish in saying that was a lousy way to end our high school experience.  I feel selfish because I can only imagine the pain and suffering that the Downing and Reilly family felt during that time and I’ sure still now.  But it’s what I remember feeling some thirty five years ago.  A feeling that we all share too many times in this life when a young person passes away.  Yet, those sad memories are shared and walk beside all the good times I remember.  And it is those good times that I relish and enjoy reliving with the great members from the Class of 1973.

 

It is an injustice to many of the fine people from our class to single out only a few, but there will be other articles I am sure on this wonderful group of people during the lifetime of BurtsVille.  So, at the expense of leaving some out in this piece I delve forward and think about the incredible athleticism of a guy like Albie Kissner.  I dare say the best athlete in our school at our time.

 

Albie was naturally gifted—especially at baseball.  I have never to this day seen anyone throw a baseball as fast as Albie.  I remember spring practices in doors in the gym.  Tan backgrounds from the bleachers being rolled up.  Glaring sun coming through the overhead windows.  The bases closer together because of the limited space.

                                                                                                                                            Ned Burt and Albie Kissner

 

Oh my God, when we threw the ball around the horn and I was standing on third base waiting for Albie to throw the ball to me from second base—well, let’s just say I think it was at that moment that I began to lose my hair.  He would either break the web of my glove and break my hand on each and every throw.  I remember trying to sucker a young Bob Jones into covering for me during these throws but not even Jonesy was having any of that.

 

Albie was a star since we were kids.  Rivals growing up as so many of us were back then.  We played ball for our neighborhoods and didn’t have the drafts they have now in youth sports.  You played against your rivals from State Street, Spring Glen, Whitneyville, Alice Peck and all the other sections of town.  It wasn’t until you reached the high school level and played together that you found out the guys you hated were really nice guys and fine teammates.

 

I still remember one Babe Ruth game at Rochford Field one summer night.  Albie was pitching. I was fortunate enough to get a walk.  I’d like to say it was a hit but I don’t think I ever got a hit against Albie.  Here I am on first base and Albie tries to pick me off two times in a row.  I let him know as loud as I can “Not fast enough Albie”.  Billy Calamita still has nightmares hearing my loud pitched voice echo off the trees that use to be at Rochford saying that phrase.

 

Well, the third time was the charm.  He picked me off.  I still contend it was a balk but he got me.  And good old Harold Markman, the original TV Repairman who was the salt of the earth yells from the J& E dugout, “Fast enough that time Albie!!!”

Coach Markman’s daughter, Hillary, was a classmate and friend and is now a Superior Court Judge.

 

Pete Reynolds, the Hamden dentist and one of the finest goalie’s Connecticut has ever seen was at the reunion.  He and his high school sweetheart, Claudia Piscatelli, were both great athletes.  Anyone present when Hamden won the 1973 State Hockey Championship against West Haven at West Haven know what type of talent and heart Peter has as he shut out the Blue Devils to avenge an earlier loss and win the State Title for the proud Hamden Program.

                                                                                                        Pete and Claudia Reynolds share the dance floor

 

Walt Dwyer, Bob Canelli, Ted Stevens, Robert Bombace, Frank DeStefano, Joey Cochierro, John Coles, Billy Ray Madden just to name a few of the outstanding athletes in our class who attended.  And the likes of Stephanie James one of the nicest people along with Debbie Esposito that you would ever want to meet in your life and two of the several people I wish I’d have had more time to talk to that evening.

 

Johnny Coles, one of the finest human beings on the face of the earth, recently retired as the Chief of the Arson Squad for the New Haven Fire Department.  Johnny was honored one year as the best of the best when it came to arson investigations.

                     Margie and Howie Married in the 5th Grade

 

I could go on and on about the great time I had at the reunion.  I did miss especially Stinky D’Aniello and Bill Walsh who couldn’t make it and so many others.  I hope the next time they do come and enjoy each other’s company.

 

And I would be remiss not to thank two women from our class who just keep us all together.  Pattie Mathews and Lori Onofrio.  You have made all of our reunions special events and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

 

 

 12-16-08

Hi and welcome to BurtsVille.com.  I hope you enjoy reading the stories in this labor of love as much as I am going to enjoy writing them.  This Look Back Page is for old time stories of growing up in Hamden and the good times shared by all.  It will also be a place where others can tell of their stories of childhood and beyond.  It will include stories from pre-school to old school.  Spring Glen School to Western New England Law School and then some.  It could be a story 50 years old or 50 minutes old.  Please feel free to email me your stories at my email address which is Ned@BurtLaw.us.  I will try to run as many of them as I can.  Right now I can't take any pictures but as I go along with this venture that may change.

I hope you enjoy my story about Sweeney's Hill.

                A SAFE & HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL

                                       SLEDDING AT SWEENEY'S HILL

A Spring Glen Tradition no more

                                    Down Hill Look

It's going to be snowing soon and one of the things I miss most from my childhood is "Sweeney's Hill".  It was the best neighborhood sledding spot for kids that I can ever imagine.  I'm sure you have your own.  Each kid should.  Some enjoyed New Haven Country Club.  Others headed off to Laurel View Country Club.  Sweeney's was at the corner of Ridge Road and Carmalt Road.  It was a steep slope--at least it seemed to be at the ages of four through twelve.  Mr. & Mrs. Sweeney had a host of children of their own one of whom owns Lady Olga's at West Woods Road and Whitney Avenue next to People's Bank.
 
All the kids from the surrounding blocks of St. Rita's School and Mishkan Israel would drag their sleds and tobaggons to Sweeney's Hill.  It was about 100-150 feet long.  At the end of it was a little ridge, or jump as we called it, that would propel you even further.  You'd either go through the row of bushes at Kelty's House at the bottom or crash into them.  Either way you were having a ball.  And, if you were really talented, you'd go down the right side hugging the street and make it to the side walk off after the "jump" with enough speed to carry you down and around Kelty's House to their front door sidewalk entrance.  What  a blast.
 
The hill, alas, is still there but the ski run is not.  Some time ago the people who bought the property, void I am sure of its historical significant neighborhood hill, planted a row of privacy trees out by the street running the length of the property.  It has been over twenty five years since that land has been sledded.  A fence now stands where the row of bushes were at Kelty's property line.  I don't think we'd make it though that area today.  Yet, once the winter snows start falling and I think back to those simple joys of childhood Sweeney's Hill and all those snow ball fights and trying to fit that one extra body on a tobaggon for that twenty second ride down the hill brings a smile to my face.
 
So kids, put away the ipod and take off the head sets and hold that Face Book thought on a cold, windy snowy day and get outside with your sled or tobaggon or plastic dish, or piece of cardboard and go find Sweeney's Hill in your neighborhood this winter.  And let the good times roll.

       How far could you go?                                                                                         An Uphill Gander