It was a terrific city to be born and raised in. I came on the scene in spring of 1951, around the corner from the Mayfair theater, on Cottman Ave. After a 6 month stint in Tampa, Fla. to fulfill my father's Air Force Reserve duty, and a year on Tulip St. in Tacony, I moved to the greatest neighborhood on earth...Somerton. This is where I spent 12 years. It was a rural/suburban paradise.
58 Firehouse at Woodhaven & Byberry Rds.
I lived on Sewell Rd. off Byberry, 1/2 mile off Bustleton and a mile off Roosevelt Blvd. The old 58 Firehouse stood at Byberry and Worthington, and we kids knew every fireman stationed there. It's where I learned to play pinochle. They would leave their soda cooler unlocked when they were on a run and trusted us to put our dime in the cigar box if we took a soda (Frank's or Gruber's). We wouldn't shame ourselves by ripping them off. They were FIREMEN. Besides, my grandfather was a retired fireman who put in time at ol'58, and he'd have hung me from the hosetower if he even thought I was stealing from his buddies.
12034-12036 Sewell Rd.
We were surrounded by woods, which we would explore over and over, wandering along til we would pop out into a neighboring community, sometimes miles away. Every day was an adventure. We weren't closely supervised; we didn't have to be. Heck, this was Philadelphia, but it wasn't.
On my way to St Christopher School on Proctor Rd., I'd vanish into the woods as I crossed Byberry Rd. and, after walking thru a yard with goats, chickens, and, down the road, a mule (Moses), I'd pop out of the trees and walk into school. I can even remember exploring a cold and damp root cellar on the way home from school one day. A root cellar in Philadelphia...whoda thunk it?
Statue of St Christopher in Front of School
The lower east side of Sewell Rd was a Garden of Eden for a bunch of kids. There was a vast expanse of woods growing over what was formerly a horse racing track (circa 1920). There was a hidden meadow with long silky weeds that were taller than we were. We would play army for hours, totally hidden from the rest of the world, yet less than 500 yards from home. There were tall tales of a ghost lurking around the "racetrack". Supposedly, he was the disembodiment of an escaped homicidal lunatic, who fled the massive and creepy Byberry Asylum, which sat on hundreds of acres, about a mile away. He was, the legend states, killed by his captors in a vicious fight, vowing vengeance on the living before he died. Good Stuff!! Especially to a bunch of naturally amped up kids. One night, during a backyard sleepout, we sneaked down to the racetrack and, within 10 minutes, all of us swore we saw this depraved monster and ran back to the tent in the yard faster than Richie Ashburn. We all knew, inside ourselves, that we really didn't see anyone, but we went to our separate homes and slept with the lights on.
Richie Ashburn
Pushing the Limits...Expanding Our Horizons
Sometimes the friendly confines of the immediate neighborhood felt like they were closing in on us. After some super-secret discussions...grownups need not know...we would agree on some faraway destination and we were off to adventure. Usually east to the tracks and either off toward Red Lion Rd. or up to Butch's Auction in Langhorne. If our parents knew where we planned to go, we could forget about going. There was no dead body along the tracks, but other than that, the movie "Stand By Me" captured the spirit of the trip.
One Of The Many Buildings Of Byberry Mental Hospital
As I mentioned earlier, we lived fairly close to Byberry Insane Asylum, officially named Philadelphia State Hospital. When one of our excursions took us up one of the roads passing between the dozens of buildings comprising this massive facility, we were filled with a chilling, eerie feeling. There was always activity on both sides of the fences, as the hospital was in its heyday, with some 6000+ patients and 1000+ staff. Along with the heebie-jeebies, we were filled with curiosity over what was happening inside the walls of this behemoth. The grounds stretched out endlessly, over hundreds of well kept acres. As well-groomed as the place was, there was still a feeling of ugliness when we looked at it. Actually, we stared at it the whole time it was within sight. I don't think that anyone who has seen it, then or now, could ever forget the place. It loomed large over Somerton, at least in our 8, 9, 10 year old minds. When we would mention the place to our parents, we would usually get a slow shaking of the head, a lowering of the eyes and something like, "Poor souls...there, but for the grace of God, go I." I may mention Byberry again in this narrative. I had many occasions to be on the grounds and to meet the patients and staff; but that came later.
