The Farm

1908

          I was born on a farm in the Bronx. My father had about 140 to 150 head of cattle who went out to pasture across Clark Place, on which we lived, and it stretched to the next street, which was called Marcey Place. In that area, my father owned property that was the grazing area for our cows. People came from far away to buy our milk.  The cattle came in to be fed, came in to be milked, came in and went out to pasture.

Mama told me I was born on July 28, 1908 in the kitchen on the round oak kitchen table at 12:30 in the afternoon. This event took place at 22 Clarke Place in the Bronx in our big farm house. It was an event, a happening, and a drama. I was the last one born of four children: Elsie was 14 years older, Clara was 9 years older and Maurice was 5 years older.

Because Mama was older than the average mother, she had three professionals standing guard. Mama Jackson was mid-wife. Midwives are wise in the experience of childbirth. When she didn’t have this task, she was our nanny. Dr. Hargrave, tall and slim with gold rimmed glasses and Van Dyke beard arrived in his horse and buggy to be the top man of the team. Behind him came Dr. Ferguson, short and pudgy and perspired in his horse and buggy. It must have been crowded around that oak table but Mama said “No complications, all went naturally and well.”

Dr. Hargrave said “A bouncing 7 lb. 7oz. cry baby girl.”

Mama Jackson said “She came out like a marathon runner!”

Dr. Ferguson said “Let’s celebrate with a beer and pretzels.”

I’m only quoting what I heard. I didn’t understand their conversation. I only knew it was tough getting out of that small hole and I didn’t like the whack Dr. Hargrave gave me when I entered the world. Only late in life did I realize it was his way of teaching.

I had two sisters who were elders and so I was most intimate with my brother, who was five years older than I. My two sisters slept in one room themselves. I slept in one room by myself. My brother slept in one room by himself. I was frequently put out of my sisters’ room because their conversations I didn’t quite understand and they thought that I would be interrupting some of their thinking.

My life in that house was, I think, a very loving and enjoyable time. We had horses. I rode horseback before I could walk. Sam, the head of the farm, would put me on a pony and hold me and run with me. I held the reins but he had the reins behind me as well so that he could direct the horse wherever he wanted it to go. And I loved doing that. I used to ride around in the cattle pasture with the pony. And when I did it well enough, he let me go on the center section of the Grand Concourse.

Back then the Grand Concourse was tanbark. And I rode with my pony- on his back, not with a go-cart, up and down that tanbark road. And it ran all the way from what is now the beginning of the Bronx where the Bronx County Courthouse is up to Kingsbridge Road, a very long distance. My pony’s name was Major. And Sam would ride along next to me in a go-cart led by Maurice’s pony, Rob Roy.

There was a special area underneath the staircase that went from the street up to our second floor. The piano was there and our Victorian furniture as well in the living room. It was mahogany and done in green velvet. The whole living room was done in green velvet. I used to think that was just the most luxurious place to be. I had to play piano up there and practice my piano up there. The teacher came to teach me piano and I had a clock on the piano because Mama said I was never to practice for less than one half hour.

I would sit down at the piano and play about three scales and then I would push the clock ahead. Then I would start again and I would play something from my book- some that were really pieces. Those I enjoyed more, so I didn’t set the clock ahead that much because I was enjoying playing the pieces. It was only the exercises that I hated. But I always stole twenty minutes to a half hour off of every hour I was supposed to practice. And then I’d come downstairs and if Mama was in a good mood, she would not say anything. If she was in a bad mood, she’d send me back upstairs again. It was a game I played every single day.

The bathroom in that house was as big as a ballroom. It was the only room in the house that was always warm. The Franklin stove which Papa kept burning with a mixture of wood and coal was constantly alive. The sink stood on legs long and narrow with a mirror above. The toilet had a box that held water, high above it with a chain that you pulled when you finished your task. The tub was immense, It stood on claw feet. The linoleum floor was made of squares of black and white and it was always sparkling clean. The medicine chest hung separate on the wall.

The bathroom was a fun place for me. Bath time came only twice a week. We were allowed four inches of tepid water. Papa was a fiend about waste. Hot water was made from the central boiler that also fed the kitchen. We had to conserve. The tub was very large. Two separate spigots gave hot and cold water. The stopper was a round piece of rubber attached to the spigot with a chain. I always moved like a fish up and down the tub.

I remember Mama’s insistence on daily movement. Obsessively, she put hot water in the toilet bowl hoping it would inspire.

I remember my doll carriage of white wicker- black painted wheels. I remember pin dots in the shades of my window. I remember the game my brother and I played with the shade finding objects, and animals, houses, balls, cars etc. I remember my small pillow, I held it and slept on the large one. I remember my bed against the wall- the wall side was safe, the other scary. My room was at the head of the stairs, an entrance for Jack The Ripper.

When I was just able to walk, I climbed out of my crib-with a jolt to the floor. I ran into Mama’s room night after night saying “Scared!” I was crying and Mama put me in her bed between her and Papa. When asked why I did this in the morning, I never would tell that I thought Jack The Ripper was after me.

Papa was more strict and said, “Stop this routine. Try sleeping on your other side. Maybe your heart needs space- sleep only on your left side.”

I tried, no success. Papa then said, “You may not disturb us every night. Tonight if you do, I will spank you.”