Louie's Candy Store... My Universe

Brooklyn, NY - Tom McGlinchy - Monday, June 1st, 2009 : goo

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It was the center of my Universe. It was where the kids were. Where the girls were, looking good in their long full skirts, angora sweaters, hair tied back in a ponytail circled with a chiffon scarf playing hard to get and the boys looking cool in their dungarees, tee shirt with rolled-up sleeves, hair curling over their forehead trying to get whatever they can get. It was where Jo was. Where we hung out. Where we went steady and broke-up and went steady again and broke-up again. It was where we talked about our hopes and dreams stole kisses in the telephone booth and listened to doo-wop. There were good times and bad times, laughs and tears, break-ups, romances and marriages, it was where the kids were, some we liked, some we didn’t. It was Brooklyn, Bushwick, Greene and Central Avenue, Louie’s candy store — that was my world, that was my universe from 1955 to 1962.

Louie’s was your typical little neighborhood candy store off the corner of Greene on Central Avenue, with a large metal Breyer’s ice cream sign above the entrance, a newspaper stand outside and a small window that opened to the street. Inside on the black and white mosaic tile floor were two worn red vinyl four-seat booths next to a white marble counter and soda fountain where you could order up delights like a 5 cent egg cream or a
10 cent vanilla malted sitting on one of four red vinyl and chrome swivel stools. There were two telephone booths, of course used to make calls but most importantly to steal kisses in. And then there was the jukebox.
The jukebox, the centerpiece, a multicolored neon lit plastic and chrome Rock-Ola beauty that for 3 for a quarter you listened to the dulcet sounds of the Valentines, Heartbeats and Cadillacs.

Louie was a good man who had two sons, Louie Jr. and the younger Frankie. Louie tolerated us most of the time but he had his limits. When the kids would get too rowdy, crash into the jukebox or knock over a counter display, then is was “OK, Everybody out!”. Eventually, after a couple of days we would gradually filter back in as if nothing ever happened and things would go back to the way it was. Louie would prime the jukebox from time to time to get the music going with quarters marked in red that would be returned to him by the jukebox guy. It worked, and we started putting quarters into the machine ourselves. Especially Tony who always had money. We would be on the jukebox guy when he came in to get us the latest records, the records we would hear Alan Freed play on WABC radio.

There was Johnny and Judy, Tony and Maryann, Terry and Howie, Frank, Helen, Pat, Sadie, Skippy, Aloma, Anna to name just a few. And Jo, a pretty 14 year old from Greene Avenue and me, that I would eventually marry in St. Barbara’s Church down the street on Bleecker.

Every neighborhood in Brooklyn had a vocal group and we were no exception. We would sing doo-wop on the corner under the streetlight, especially when we were kicked out of Louie’s. We thought we were pretty good, except for maybe Frank who sang out of tune sometimes. It was the way The Clusters and The Fascinators got started.

Across the street from Louie’s on the corner of Greene and Central was a tavern called the Piccadilly. Not too unlike many taverns in Brooklyn. It had a bar in front and a small dining area in the back. But it had something no other tavern had. Two Italian brothers who were ex-boxers, and probably best remembered for what they made in their kitchen oven than what they did in the ring. You would enter a side door to the dining area and sit at one of two booths or four tables and partake in an epicurean delight of tomato, cheese and dough that no one knew at the time was the “Holy Grail” of pizza. Today, I would wager no one in our Universe has had a better pizza since.

We were all wending our way through our teenage years at Louie’s, turning away from those we didn’t like and building relationships and lasting friendships with those we did, and making plans to someday get married. Some of us eventually did get married in the neighborhood, just down the street at St. Barbara’s Church like Jo and I, and Johnny and Judy. We didn’t know it at the time when we were concerned about how we looked, how we dressed and the friendships and romances we were building that we were also building lasting memories. The buildings where Louie’s and the Piccadilly were are gone now, only empty lots. But those lots are filled with the hearts and spirit of the kids who were once there.

Many years later I realized my time at Louie’s candy store was one of the happiest times of my life. Not because I liked it there so much, I liked it there because I was young, we were all young, me and Jo, Terry and Howie, Tony and Maryann, Johnny and Judy and even Louie. I really didn’t like all of those kids then, but today I love every last one of them.

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marti: Great story

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