Syracuse

Seventy-two years ago today, my mother, Margaret Lasky, was lounging around the Hotel Syracuse on East Onondaga Street in Syracuse, New York, which is 40 miles (64 kilometers) southeast of Oswego, where I grew up.  She was there waiting for me. The following day I was ready and she took a cab or an ambulance to the Syracuse Memorial Hospital where I was born.  Thus, I have this peculiar history of having a hometown different from the place of my birth.  For the reason, check out my blog post, My Sister.

Over the years, this confusion has manifested itself.  The biggest example was when my daughter, Rachel, was born and her mother (Bonita) was asked by a birth record official at the Long Island Jewish Hospital "where was Rachel's father born."  She said Oswego, which was accepted without question.  When I later saw Rachel's birth certificate, I went to have it corrected.  I, the father, had to prove the authenticity of the correction, which I did.

Syracuse, New York, named after the city on the east coast of Sicily, reached its population zenith in 1950 with 221,000 residents. Sixty years later, its population dropped to 145,000, a 34% reduction. Growing up in Oswego (population then of 20,000) as I did, Syracuse seemed to be a "big city." I returned many times.

My earliest recollection of trips to Syracuse were with my mother on clothes shopping expeditions, mostly for her, sometimes for me. I would go with her to Flah's and Addis's where I would hide in clothes racks and play with my toys.  As a little boy, I remember being the only male in an elevator full of females heavily perfumed.  The mixture was almost too much.

Before and after such shopping, my mother and I would hang out at that same Hotel Syracuse with its many comfortable chairs and couches.  There was a nice restaurant and a coffee shop in the lower level, plus a barber shop and a men's room which required a dime to use the toilets.  I especially remember a news stand which had a whole lot of sports magazines.  Sometimes my mother would give me a quarter with which I could buy one.  Some of them, sixty years later, are in a box in Bonita's apartment in New York City.  

In the 1950's, my father had season tickets to the Syracuse Nationals (or Nats) basketball games.  Our seats at the Onondaga County War Memorial were on the court level.  The Nats were led by the legendary Dolph Schayes, famous for his two hand set shot. They were one of eight teams in the National Basketball Association (NBA) when it was much less significant than today. In 1955, the Nats were NBA champions, defeating the Fort Wayne (today Detroit) Pistons in seven games.  In 1963, the team moved to Philadelphia to become the 76ers.  Coincidentally, I also moved to Philadelphia that same year to study at the University of Pennsylvania.

Annually, the New York State Fair is held in Syracuse and my mother would take me there.  I especially liked the farm animals. Once, I saw one of my favorite boxers, Carmen Basilio, who was at the fair signing autographs.  They weren't free, so I didn't get one.

I remember my older brother, Paul, taking me to my first professional baseball game to see the minor league Syracuse Chiefs and their star player, Bobby Bowman.

The City of Syracuse is well known for Syracuse University, a well-respected institution of higher learning.  I probably would have considered studying there if I hadn't wanted to be far from my parents.  As a child, I was a big fan of their football team.  I remember listening to Bill O'Donnell on the radio as he would describe the action on the field many Saturday afternoons in the fall. Jim Brown, a star running back for the Orangemen, was an early hero of mine, until he joined the Cleveland Browns of the NFL, the rival of my New York Giants. 

In 1957, as a 12 year-old, I scrapped together enough money to buy a ticket to the Penn State game.  I was going to take public transportation, but my father got his assistant at work, Joe Cutro, to take me and bring me home.  In 1959, Syracuse University won the National Championship with the help of Heisman Trophy winner Ernie Davis.  I saw him in person score three touchdowns against Pittsburgh in 1961.

I'll never forget the hours I spent in Syracuse one Saturday evening/Sunday morning in December of 1962 on my way to New York City with my friend, Frank Ruggio.  See my blog post, Weekend in New York.

In the summer of 1965, my father gave me a job with his company, Mobile Warehousing, located in Syracuse.  It was a distribution center for Nestle products produced at their plant in nearby Fulton, New York and shipped to stores throughout central New York State.  My main job was to drive the two of us to and from work. While there, he gave me various tasks.  The one I remember most was walking behind mountains of pallets full of candy bars looking for rodents.  I found only one dead one the whole summer.

After an absence of many years, I returned to Syracuse in 1999 with both my children to see the Orange football team lose to Rachel's alma mater, the University of Michigan, led by Tom Brady, who turned 40 years-old this past week.

When my son, Bret, was in high school, I took him to Syracuse University for its summer basketball program.  On another occasion, we went for a tour of the Syracuse campus as he was considering applying there.

Ten years ago, Cristina and I flew into Hancock Airport outside of Syracuse on our way to visit Oswego.  I used that airport many times during my college years flying between home and Philadelphia.  I hope to return to that area of the country one day.