Historical March 1980 report or notice. Original dates, prices and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
We moved in almost eight months ago. Six years before that Cal Stuart had taken us around the area, but then we stayed in Florissant not a very bright decision. However. Iowa is a nice place. Actually Florissant isn’t in Iowa, but it might as well be. Except for corner standing, shopping center hopping and driving around on narrow roads (some call them streets), there’s not much to do, especially with kids. Anyhow, here we are looking at an established neighborhood, trying to appreciate its strengths and weaknesses, its benefits and style.
We have two kids: Benjamin is 5, John is 3. Obviously they don’t have large vocabularies with which to discuss hiproofs, Corinthian capitals or other architectural niceties. They notice the brick and the differences between 2-floor and 3-floor houses. But during the fall we saw them catching changes and developments. It was an evening in mid-October when Benjamin asked why the clock was orange! Now, the bells from St. Roch’s tower are a very pleasant sort of quaint Medieval touch. The kids picked up on them and the clock quickly, and it was they who saw its face turn orange. It was our first clue that Halloween is a major event in this neighborhood. When we mentioned to some other people in the area that the clock turned orange, two of them had never noticed. But everyone notices Halloween here.
Surely everyone walks to Forest Park and its various museums. Another great walk is to the castle, especially in fall when the acorns and pine cones populate the steps and commons. Normally called Brookings Hall, the castle is replete with sculptures, cornices and clocks of interest to kids. The great day came when John spotted the troll eating a human head! Gothic architecture is known for its gargoyles, fabulous beasts and attenuated sculptural friezes. Well, Benjamin had decided not to go that day when John saw the troll. John was really excited when he got home, and he and Benjamin discussed the troll for a week. The following weekend when all of us went to the castle, the object of research was that troll with the horn on its nose nibbling at a human skull.
Thanksgiving is amazing. That’s the day John asked about St. Methodist. After all, there is a St. Roch Church. Inked, it is quite obvious the other must be St. Methodist Church. And the parade that day, more or less led by the mounted park policeman down Alfred Waterman Boulevard, was an instant memorable event. Grace Methodist was designed by the same architect who did Union Station downtown, Theodore Link. That it was a peripatetic church, just like the evermoving Baptist Church (now called Delmar Baptist), is a story in its own right.
We are so grateful to JoAnn Vatcha who found for us copies of the neighborhood history done a couple of years ago. It talks about these various neighborhood institutions and their remarkable meanderings.
The hum of saws and the staccato of hammers is as much a part of the ambience of this neighborhood as the bells of St.Roch’s and the carillon of Grace Methodist. From a distance there must be a rising cloud of plaster dust as the owners of these houses redo and undo the work of intervening generations.
Then there is the aroma of oil and latex paints!
When we first talked with Cal Stuart several years_ ago he discussed the various neighborhood organizations and how they augured well for the future of the area because they meant people working together. The current discussion over the ethnic restaurant featuring Mexican food seems to represent a breakdown in this organizational structure. We don’t understand it all, but it looks like a lot of fuss and feathers which some reasonability might have prevented some time in the past. Sooner or later the entire thing will evaporate into a cloud of cooperation and forethought.
Christmas brought another change in the clock face: orange was replaced with red and green. The cloud of plaster dust was replaced by a cloud of smoke from working fire places. Vendors selling fire wood came by every other weekend. Leaves, nearly covered houses and streets, had to be moved by the end of the year as the mild weather stretched into the holiday season. It was almost February when the first snow finally came. The clock was back to “normal” by that time. And by that time we had decided the “normal” in this neighborhood was anything but similar to Florissant.
Then there is the Great Phone Club. For those who never heard of it, a prurient business maintains a phone number which lets “lonely hearts” talk with less than reputable women— like Candy, Lolita and Tammy! During four of six weeks in the early fall, the phone number of this business was quite similar to ours meaning we had numerous weird wrong•number calls. The number changed every Tuesday, but it is in the 863 exchange.
We called the phone company and they said they would solve the problem for us — meaning we only had two more weeks of calls from salivating males! Some of these were long-distance from New Jersey, Montreal and other places of quality.
We began to answer our phone with unique responses unlike “hello,” like “Bronze Age,” “World War I,” etc. My wife even chatted with one he-man who wanted to come to our “World War II Memorabilia and Sandwich Shop” for more than lunch! Well, these finally ceased. But about a month ago a secretary from an exclusive boys’ bible school in California called my wife and asked her about several long-distance calls her charges had made to St. Louis. This matron was a bit abashed by the supposed purpose of these religious young men dialing a scurrilous enterprise in the heart of the midwest. She thought things like that only happened in California! Apparently St. Louis is not as “conservative” as some believe. We came to name that phone club the “Dial Bawdy House 3000.” It probably still is going strong, and if any who run that affair are readers of this column, we wish you success in finding customers who are a bit More experienced at using the phone!
Streckfus Steamers operates the S.S. Admiral, the Huck Finn and the other working boats on the riverfront. Captain Bill Carroll of our neighborhood commands this old and substantial business. If you ride on any of the ships and ask the deck hands where they live, they invariably reply: St. Roch’s! The Carrolls still sit every Sunday in pew #6 which the original Captain Streckfus “owned” in the days of pew rents: Mrs. Carroll, originally Betty Streckfus, is a marvelous lady. The Carrolls are just one of many families still in the area. When Judge Tamany retired and moved to South St. Louis County (down by Memphis) to be near his children, he left behind a 62 year stay in the neighborhood. This area has a substantive tradition. Witness Georgia Rosenbloom, owner of LA Rams and graduate of Hamilton grade school.!
Does anyone know how many “Bettys” there are in this neighborhood? Joan remarks during our first week here how friendly everyone is and how many of the women are named Betty. It has gotten to the point we don’t call out “Betty” for fear of having half a gathering turn to look at us.
Certainly there are numerous other characteristics of this neighborhood. The super Des Peres Library is an excellent agency. The various theatres and restaurants on Delmar Boulevard are within easy walking distance. The work along DeBaliviere by Pantheon Corporation and the new bank look very promising.
Then there are the alleys—more popularly called thoroughfares! And in the alleys are those very useful trash tanks. Due to the alleys there are no driveways from which cars can back over kids too short to be seen while going in reverse. But the primary fact of this neighborhood is the people and the houses. We are very appreciative of the friendliness of this area and the acceptance we have received. We hope our years here allow us to both participate and add to the heritage breathing from the interstices of this place. We would only suggest the neighborhood needs an old fashioned saloon where nickel beer and three penny cigars ‘could lubricate pinochle, billiards and the inevitable political “discussion!”
Originally published in The Paper, March 1980.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Archival transcription note: The damaged line after “nibbling at a human” was completed only with the visible word “skull” from the scan. Historical architectural and alumni claims are the authors’ accounts, not subsequent independent verification.
Original source: SD_Times1980_03.pdf, printed page(s) 5; PDF page(s) 5.
