As a child I thought West Elm Street was the most beautiful street in Scranton, Pa., especially the part where I lived because our house was set on a hill and from it we could look across the whole city. The town had recently planted locust trees at intervals on either side of the road and although they were skinny and not very shady, I was proud that OUR street had trees in an area where many streets didn't.

Actually, it was a very ordinary street where ordinary middle class working people lived. Also, I thought our house was the most beautiful house on the street - ask anybody who lived there. The front part was enwrapped on three sides by a broad porch, the right side of which lead to the wide front door (actually a double door). No other house on our street had a front door like ours. A thick plate glass window beveled on all sides was set into the upper half of each door and sometimes the sun, before it set in the evening would send shards of rainbow colors into the entrance hall.

As one entered, the broad stairway with its solid oak bannisters rose on the right to a landing with a stained glass window, then turned left and went on up to the up-stairs hall. This hallway, at right angles to the steps, divided the the upper house in half, except at the front where the hall ended at the door to the front bedroom. That's the bedroom I was born in.

1908 was the year and August eleventh was the day of that event. I don't know that there was anything special about my birth except that it could have been one of those surprises that happens to couples with three children who discover eight years later that another is on the way. I do know that, once my advent became evident, the family looked forward to my birth, especially my two sisters, Edith and Mil.

Edith was the first-born of the family, Mil was third. Dan was in the middle of that section of our family. He was a few months under fourteen when I was born and he entered the seventh grade that coming September at the Frances Willard Elementary School. Sadly, he remained only a month or two and then quit school, never to return.

The story as told me is that Dan got into a fight with a schoolmate who happened to be the nephew of the principal. Hauled up before this imperious figure, he was pronounced guilty, saying which, the man began switching Dan with a stout wooden "pointer", breaking it in the act. Dan finally broke away and ran home, but apparently he was quite brutally beaten. He absolutely refused to ge back to school and finally he obtained working papers and got a job.

I mention this little episode here because, although it occurred at the time I was but a helpless infant, it affected my life importantly later on as you shall see.

Three years later Jack was born, and it is from then that I have some memories; I remember that I could sing and harmonize and was considered at the time to be exceptionally talented. This is not surprising since both my mother and father were singers. Furthermore, I was immersed in music from the day I was born; the whole family sang, both my sisters played the piano and, beyond that, my father, who idolized Thomas A. Edison, had bought an Edison phonograph along with scores of records. I truly believe I had music in my ears from the moment I awakened until I went to bed at night. Whatever the reason, there's no doubt I was blessed with a good singing voice and an innate sense of harmony that was there almost from the day I was born. I was called cute, sweet, darling, handsome, clever, and about everything else that would spoil a child and make him vain and unpleasant. But I was also very shy and probably somewhat introverted so that I don't think I was much spoiled or conceited. But I knew I was much loved.

Edith and Mil were the ones - and my mother of course. They were the ones who doted on me, fussed over me, dressed me in the Buster Brown suits and trimmed my hair with bangs which made me look like a girl in boys' clothing.

At the corner of S. Main Ave. and W. Elm St. was Elementary School #32 named after Frances Willard. It had two stories with Grades 1 thru 4 on the 1st floor and Grades 5 and 6 on the 2nd along with the Principal's office. The Civil War Veterans came on Memorial Day and sat on the oak stairs while all the kids gathered 'round while they sang 'Tenting Tonight', 'The Vacant Chair', 'Marching Thru Geogia' and 'Beans For Breakfast'. How we all laughed and cheered for that last song. That would be in the years 1914 -1920.

I attended 7th and 8th grades at Lincoln School (#14) about three fourths of a mile away. I walked to and from school. It had, I believe, 3 stories and a a long spiral slide enclosed in metal for the fire escape from the third floor. It had been closed down and was unused while I was there. Rozzie Philips' sister, Martha (Mattie), taught there and was my Latin and math teacher. She was also my home room teacher and taught us to say The Lord;s Prayer "---IN earth as it is in Heaven." She insisted that was correct.

"Pussy" Warner taught the fifth grade at No 32. She was an old maid, wore her straight, dark, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back tightly from her face into a braid which was coiled and pinned up at the back. Her face was set in a severe look and she spoke in a sharp, terse manner. Her dresses were of 19th century vintage, always black or steel gray, and flouncing out over what must have been a dozen petticoats. She brooked no funny business in her class room and was a strict disciplinarian. She had a thick wooden paddle about 18 inches long and 2 wide which she kept in a pocket of her apron. At the slightest disruption by a pupil she would haul the poor lad (it was usually a lad) to the front of the class and give him a thorough dusting on the seat of his pants with her paddle. I doubt she ever did much more than warmed their bottoms so that they could feel it, but she did indeed succeed in having an orderly classroom.

There was another teacher who possessed such a paddle - I can't recall her name. She was entirely different than Miss Warner, a rather tall, shapely lady, who taught 7th grade. She had me in the front row where she often loomed over me as she spoke to the class, and I could watch her tan-colored stockinged legs which fascinated me. Occasionally, if one of the boys acted up, she would get out her paddle and roundly spank him in front of the class.