Alfred

Alfred was my Grandpa. My hero.

Alfred was born in Brooklyn, New York in either 1901 or 1903, The records are not very clear. His father was born in Brooklyn and his father’s father was born there too. He lived from either ’01 or ’03 until he passed in 1983.

What follows are excerpts from his life. Ordinary, yet extraordinary.

Early Years

Al was not an educated man; at least in formal education. He graduated the eighth grade and went to work. Work was easy to come by and he learned to be a plumber. He worked hard and made a nice living. He married his first love and things were going well.

Until 1929.

The Great Depression had hit. His son, my Dad was born in 1930. He had a family now that needed food and a place to live. He survived, because he had a skill.

Being a plumber and a handy man he became part of the barter culture that was 30’s Brooklyn. The local butcher needed a sink, Al would get a chicken and some canned goods. The toilet needed fixing at the dry goods store (for the younger readers, that was the name for clothing stores at the time) and he would get shoes for his son and a dress for his wife.

He would do anything to help the neighbors. He was well known in the community and all knew he would help first and accept whatever payment the people he helped could afford.

This worked in the early 30’s but the depression worsened and without a choice he was forced to…

Turn to a life of crime.

It was December 1936. Al’s nephew got a new bike for Christmas. He could see the look in his son’s eyes and his heart sank. He couldn’t afford a bike.

He wandered the neighborhood until he saw the prize. There it was, ripe for the taking. He looked around and there was no one in sight.

HE STOLE THE BIKE!

He carried it down the street and hid it in the vestibule of his apartment. His son was in school so he took the next steps in his criminal path.

He got most of his plumbing supplies at the local hardware store. They knew him there, but this time he didn’t need pipes or fittings.

He needed paint.

He had committed two crimes. Grand theft bike, and covering up the crime by altering the evidence. He picked blue paint which easily covered the white. His last crime was lying to his son about his brand new bike, that was so new the paint was still wet.

Al didn’t feel any guilt. His boy was happy. That’s all that mattered.

More Crimes

Things worsened and the bartering businesses were closing their doors and Al found it hard to exchange his skills for food or clothing. He needed work and knew they were hiring at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

To get hired at the Yard, every morning all the potential hirees would “shape up”. The foreman would look over the men and select the required number for that day’s work. Al had filled out the application and listed plumbing, welding and general handyman skills as his capabilities.

The Yard was building ships for what would soon be World War II and Al was optimistic he would be hired instantly.

The first day he wasn’t. Not any day that first week. Not any day in the succeeding two weeks.

He started standing next to people what were picked hoping he would be selected as well. That didn’t work.

Getting desperate he finally asked the one of the men picked every day to please recommend him.

The man said, “No I can’t do that, but I can tell you how to get picked.”

He explained getting picked was simple. He asked Al to hand over his hat. He reached into his pocket an took out a pack of matches, tore one off and stuck it in the brim of Al’s hat.

Confused, Al was told that the number of matches in your hat was the signal to the foreman how many dollars you would pay him at the end of the shift.

Al placed two more matches in the brim of his hat.

He got hired each and every day he went to shape up and was now guilty of bribery and giving kickbacks.

The Bonus

Al was working six days a week at the Yard, often sleeping on the ship he was working on. War had been declared and there was no shortage of overtime. His overtime was going to paid in a separate check. Al’s wife Marie was the family’s financial caretaker. Al had always trusted her and for all the years of their marriage, it was something he didn’t have to worry about.

For the first time since 1929 Al wanted some mad money. He wasn’t sure what he wanted it for. Probably just to have some cash in his pocket. He worked long and hard for almost two years. He liked clothes and never had a nice suit and hat.

He was expecting the check and asked the postman when he saw it to deliver it to the tavern on the corner. He arranged with the bartender to expect the check and hold it for him.

Al was now guilty of keeping a secret from Marie. A moral crime.

Al arrived home after working three straight days and nights at the Yard. Marie was all smiles. She had gotten a big check from the Navy.

After all the planning a substitute mail man delivered the check to the home address.

Al learned that crime didn’t pay.

The Sad Years

Marie passed in 1947. Al was devastated. His son was 17 and also devastated. He decided the best he could do was send his son to a cousin in Jersey since he thought that was best for him. He wanted his boy to go to college since he always regretted not having an education. He was smart in many ways, just didn’t have the papers to prove it. He worked all his life so his son could have what he didn’t.

The next three years were hard and lonely. He lost Marie, and his son was across the river. It may as well have been across the country. He was in college and that thought sustained him in his darkest hours.

A New Life

The dark years ended in 1950. Alfred met Vi, the second love of his life. He married her. She provided love, stability and a smoking companion. He was True Blue and she was True Green (regular and menthol).

He was happy again, and better still was she took Al out of Brooklyn to Wallkill, New York at the foot of the Catskills. He helped Vi’s son, Billy with his oil delivery business. He installed boilers and hot water heaters, until Billy drank all the profits and went bankrupt.

From there he was hired as a high school custodian where he worked until he retired at the age of 71. Vi passed that same year and he retired to see to her well being as best he could.

Me and the Grandchildren

My grandfather told me all of these stories several times. After Vi passed he would come stay with us and I would drive to Wallkill to get him and for the two hour drive I would listen.

The stories never got old.

There was a comfort to the aroma of his True Blue smoke and my lesson learned was he:

Took. Care. Of. His. Loved. Ones.

Alfred, because of dementia spent his last years in a nursing home.

It may seem ordinary to most, but to Marie and Vi, his son, step children and grandchildren, he was extraordinary.

God is not punishing him for his crimes, because he did His work his whole life.