most fun years. My family ended up in the “Projects” after my father left my mother with two infants and no money (even taking what little savings there was). Even though my mother was a professional secretary who had supported her parents and siblings during the Depression, as a single working woman she still could not support herself and two small children without the assistance of subsidized housing. The “Projects” was officially known as Valley View Homes. It got it’s name of "Projects" because it was built by the WPA as a “project” in 1939. It was a place filled with 250 transient family units, most of which were fatherless. The few men who were living in the “Projects” were either World War II amputees who had given up on life or drunks who usually did not work and beat up their families. I grew up with the impression that to have a father in the house was not a good thing. The highlight of growing up in such a community was that there were hundreds of children, all of whom were as poor as you were. We created our own childlike world where our playground was the hillside overlooking the bustling steel mills with railroad cars and tracks to entice the adventurous boys. You could easily get enough boys together for a “rubber ball” game. We played in the cinder lot, right on the 7th Street hill. The outfield was the steep street going down to Houston and the Flats. A long hit ball could roll forever. The Projects provided a great place to play “Army”. The war could be played over the hill or in the “dumps” near Clark Field where there were huge sand and gravel piles on one end. The swamps below Fruit Ave. provided our “Tarzan, Cowboys and Indians or Korean war” terrain complete with vines to swing on. Although there were the large groups that played together, there were always special groupings of kids. The grouping of boys I hung around with (Donalins, Butanwiczs, Felter, and Vanek) were in much the same boat as I was. We had no Dads, we had no money, we had little structure in our lives. I credit a lot of my ideals and goals to some of those mothers who always seemed to have time to sit and chat with us. They shared their advice and correction on a moment’s notice. They weren’t afraid to “mother” any one of us. There were also the numerous clubs formed by some enterprising young person (usually me) and they always included some sort of initiation for only the brave. One club we started didn’t grow too large because the initiation was very dangerous; we really weren’t too smart. If you wanted to belong to this exclusive club you needed to walk the “catwalk” under the Clark Ave. Bridge for the entire one mile span. This meant walking on two 12"x10' planks while crouched down because the clearance was only 4' overhead. 110' below was the railroad tracks and Cuyahoga River. The only thing you could hold onto for balance was the overhead asbestos wrapped pipes. Looking back I wonder how we survived our childhood playing on railroad tracks, bridges, swamps, and other environmental hazards. There was some limited organized activities. Fisher Foods donated shirts for baseball teams down at the new Clark Field in the Cleveland class “F” league. Lincoln High School student Bob Trzebuckowski was the Coordinator from the City. After playing thousands of sandlot games it was a big thrill to get the free matching shirt and to be on a real team The Boy Scouts sponsored a troop at the Valley View Office. It was lead by Mr. Ellis, a war veteran, who taught us some valuable life lessons Having attended Tremont Elementary School and Lincoln High School from kindergarten through 12, I established many great friendships. Many of the teachers in those schools went way beyond their scope of teaching responsibilities. Mrs. Updegrove often took kids on weekend excursions, picnics or helped out with a few extra things when they were desperately needed. My phys-ed teacher became my lifelong friend and colleague. George Chandick saw this shy athletic kid with low self esteem and encouraged me to become involved in track, basketball and baseball. For 50 cents a semester we could join his well run Community Center. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays we played basketball, board games, boxed and learned how to dance. Dancing led to the discovery of girls. Being a boy who could dance made this shy freckled faced kid have some confidence; after all, if you could dance, you were cool and the girls always needed a partner. George Chandick was a big influence on my life. Because of his tutoring, I have enjoyed the benefits of competitive sports. This love of sports has lasted into my graying years as I still play baseball and still referee basketball, as well as going to the World Series every year. He also influenced me to become active in community. We were both elected to Seven Hills City Council together in the 80's. Mr. Chandick eventually became the Mayor while I represented the people for 21 years. It was a thrill to work with a man who once was my teacher. When we became too old for Cowboys and Indians playing sports took on a greater roll. We use to squeeze through the fence at the Bath House to shoot baskets even after shoveling away the snow. The Merrick House is where we really learned how to play. This naturally led to playing sports for Lincoln High School. My shop teacher at Lincoln, Mr. Mike Heryak, became a lifelong friend. (He passed away in 2001.) He instilled a love for woodworking which I still enjoy. I’ve made furniture and completed numerous remodeling projects. As a student I caught my thumb in a lathe. Mr. Heryak left the class and drove me to City Hospital where they saved the thumb. He personally paid the medical bills. I am often amazed to recall how many of our public school teachers became personally involved in our lives. They were special people. Mr. Sforza and J.J. Masek, who was also a stringer for the Plain Dealer, wet my appetite for history and government so that today I’m still hooked on reading whatever I can. I grew up in a very diverse culture. Lincoln High School at one time had 114 students who were first or second generation immigrants. The Southside (now called Tremont) once had more churches in one square mile than anywhere in the world! As a kid from the “Projects” we were looked down upon. Most who lived in the “Projects” were transients - moving out in 3-5 years. In the early 1960's the population started changing from European immigrants to Appalachian migrants who moved north to find work and again it changed in the late 60's with the influx of African- Americans. In time the well trimmed small yards and gardens were neglected. Eventually part of the Projects were torn down to make room for Interstate 490 and finally it was completely leveled in the spring of 2006 to make room for another different low income housing complex - and so another cycle begins. I guess my experiences living in the “Projects” were important enough to me that I had to take pictures and movies, keep a brick and the address blocks from my door as mementos of that life. Within one block of the Projects there were many small “mom and pop” stores such as Andy’s, Mike’s and the “big” food stores like Bi Rite and IGA and way up by St. John Cantius was Fisher Foods and my favorite place, Lincoln Savings. Within a mile and a half there was a hardware store, shoemaker, dry cleaner and even a furniture store. There was no need for a shopping mall or even a car. We always went to Sam the barber who over the years became a friend as well as my barber. In fact, he came to our house to give my son Mickey his first hair cut. The course of one’s life is often changed by unplanned events. One such change of course came from a store front “mission” outreach of St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church. I went there to Sunday school and met an amazing woman who was my teacher, Leona Herbst. She loved me, nurtured me and unofficially “adopted” me as her son. In her acceptance I grew emotionally healthier and spiritually sound. Eventually, St. Matthew sent a bus to take us to their church on Scranton Rd. That is where I met the minister’s daughter, a pig-tailed girl jumping rope who eventually became my wife of 41 years. My faith in Jesus Christ as my Savior has grown over the years, being the mainstay in all I do. I learned early on that the only way to escape the dead end of the Projects was to work and work hard. I began with a paper route - The Cleveland News. At 8 years old I started my own business – shoe shining in the bars up and down West 25th street. I was so proud the day I could buy myself a new pair of shoes and get rid of shoes with cardboard covering the holes. When I was 9 and 10 I worked at the West Side Market collecting the used produce baskets from the piles of refuse behind the produce and fruit stands. I got 2 cents for the regular baskets and 3 cents for the large ones. Later I was promoted to getting the meat from the cold storage lockers in the basement of the market. Being small, I sometimes had to wait inside the locker until a man came by and opened the door. It could be unnerving at times. When I was 10 I started my selling career by selling programs at the Stadium for both baseball and football. It was always a bonus to get to see most of the games. I gave up the baseball selling in the early 60's, but still work part time for the Browns, going on my 50th year. For the past 54 out of 61 years I have been working part time and full time jobs. There has hardly been a year that I have not had two or three jobs at once. Growing up in a tough neighborhood can be a blessing because it leaves one with a true appreciation for everything you have and for the simple pleasures of life. Bob Leech, January 2007 |
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