History |
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Asher Zamansky
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The trip to Revere began with a ferry ride from Boston at Rowes Wharf, then across the bay to East Boston. The fare was a penny per person. This was expensive when you consider that the salaries at that time ranged from unemployment to about $5.00 per week. We saved our money just for a special date every month. Jobs were scarce so that a day at Revere Beach was very important. We boarded the narrow gauge railway to Crescent Beach Station which is now Revere Beach.
We joined thousands of fun seekers parading along the boardwalk dressed in their finery. My "white ducks, blue blazer and two-tone shoes and my girl's freshly pressed white cotton dress with matching shoes" blended in with the decor of the day. We stopped at Barney Sheff's for a gourmet lunch of hot dogs with sauerkraut and bottles of orange soda. As teenagers, this was considered to be the deluxe place in which to eat. Across from Barney Sheff was the band stand which played a variety of popular music. All the folks gathered here and danced. This band stand is still in operation and we still enjoy their concerts. One of the main attractions on the Boulevard was the Caterpillar. The most exciting part to us was this ride because before it entered the Tunnel of Love, a canvas canopy was lowered to form a cocoon. Of course, we held hands throughout the ride. It was expected of us. When the canvas cover was unfurled, we squinted at the light and felt sorry to see the end. We left the Caterpillar for Holt's Pier for a "flight" in a seaplane over Revere Beach. The cost was $1.00 per person. Intoxicated with this adventure which I have never forgotten, we regained our composure and headed for dinner at the Frolicks. It was a "star" place to see first grade live entertainment. It might be Louis Prima and his orchestra or perhaps the Carroll Sisters. (Goldie Broomfield, a resident at Satter and her sister). The sun had set and the weather cooled. Reluctantly, we headed for home before the last train left to Boston. The ride was uneventful and much faster than we would have liked. My date caught forty winks on my shoulder. The train pulled into Boston as the ferry was about to leave. We made a mad dash for it. Weary but exhilarated, we felt richer in experience having strolled the two miles down Memory Lane. To paraphrase Shakespeare, "All's Well that Ends Well." (Editor's Note: Thanks to Jeff Pearlman, local historian who acted as our consultant)
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