AS TIME GOES BY
Nostalgia flows
from my pores like sap from a maple when I start thinking about Hoboken ,
my birth city. Not until I had completed writing my autobiography did I learn
that the city had created a Historical
Museum
After reading
it, I decided to try and contact some of my Hoboken
friends who had attended St. Michael’s High School located in Union
City . I went to “Classmates.com” and posed as a 1945
graduate. Unfortunately, I found none of my peers listed.
Later, Anthony (Tony) Dietche
contacted me to say he had seen my name on that site but couldn’t recall me nor
find my picture in his year book. After explaining why I posed as a graduate, he
sent me pictures of many of my friends, copied from his year book. This
inspired me to write some additional vignettes for the “Hoboken Days” portion
of my autobiography. I downloaded the stories onto a CD and mailed it to the Hoboken
Historical Museum
Rob Coughlin came
across my letter while conducting genealogical research about a Hoboken
family member named Mary Finnerty. He contacted me and we exchanged family
trees. We discovered that we are not blood related, but we had one connection.
His mother’s brother, his uncle Robert (Bob) Corcoran, graduated from both
grade and high school with me. Rob sent me a picture of his teen aged mother
and uncle taken on the boardwalk of Point Pleasant , one
of my summer time haunts while I lived in Hoboken .
What a nice spot that picture filled in my book of memories.
While floating
around in this sea of nostalgia, I received a flyer from the HHM. It announced
the forthcoming publication of the history of a former Hoboken
businessman, Joseph Samperi as told by his son, Paul, with whom I had graduated
from high school, and haven’t seen or talked to in over sixty years.
When the
publication arrived, I read that Paul’s father had emigrated from Italy .
Starting as a humble flower peddler, he became very successful, the owner of two
imposing Hoboken buildings, the Continental Hotel and the Union Club, the
city’s most prominent social center.
By coincidence,
I had just come across a postcard picture of the lavishly ornate barroom of the
Continental Hotel while surfing the Internet. The postcard’s advertising
message invites people to come and enjoy drinking in its air-conditioned
environment.
With help from
the HHM, I managed to obtain Paul’s phone number and called him. We spent a
delightful half hour reminiscing
“I found a
picture postcard of the Hotel Continental‘s air conditioned bar on the Internet.”
“The entire
hotel was air-conditioned. That’s why my family lived there.”
No wonder Paul
always looked so cool, calm and collected compared to me.
Paul looked
mature in high school, the only member of my class who wore a suit coat, shirt
and tie every day and carried his books in a briefcase. He planned to become a
lawyer.
“How come you
didn’t become a lawyer?”
“My father
wanted me to help run the restaurant business in the Union Club, and I stayed
with it. I’m still acting as a consultant in this field.”
Paul’s father
hosted our 1944 high school graduation class party at the Union Club, the first
time I can recall entering its portals. During WW II, servicemen flocked there, the closest the city had to a USO. Paul told me that years later, the
structure caught fire and never reopened. New owners converted the building
into upscale condos.
We talked about
the day in 1943 when Frank Sinatra visited our high school to have publicity
pictures taken. Paul introduced him to the assembled student body. He claimed that
on this occasion, Frank sang without piano accompaniment and signed many
autographs afterwards. I had a completely different recollection of this event,
but have concluded his is probably the more accurate.
His father
owned a big Cadillac. Paul grew up loving big expensive cars and has owned many
antique ones. At the moment, he owns a 1937 Packard convertible which he still
drives. It has carried him far in life. I am glad he picked me up today, a
nostalgic hitchhiker.
▄
A.
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