I have memories as a kid of the annual election night bonfire, right there on the middle of my street corner in the Bronx. The older boys would build it using cardboard boxes and wooden fruit crates gathered from the local "grocery stores" and "fruit markets" that greatly outnumbered the A&P or Grand Union super markets.
Election Day was a day off from school. Most of the mothers back then were "stay at home moms" so we were adequately supervised (even while stock piling the fodder for the bonfire). My mom worked as a poll taker but I don't know if she was paid for it. The polling place was old Mr Browns tailor shop on Oliver Place. He rented space in front of the clothing racks for the Board of Elections table where my mom sat checking the polling lists as people came in to vote and often pick up or drop off their clothes. (Mr Brown kept open for business.) The voting machines were located back behind the racks. Like any youngster, my imagination ran wild with what the adults might be doing behind that closed curtain of the booth. (See " The Wizard of Oz".) My mom let me peek inside them one year to further my civic education.
The lines to vote grew long when the men came home from work. All the bars were closed until the polls closed at 8:00 pm. After they went home for supper the lines formed again outside the local taverns (it was an Irish neighborhood). With the men otherwise entertained and the moms putting the babies to bed we boys were free to light the bonfire.
The bonfire custom was centuries old, supposedly to dispose of the ballots but also known as destroying the evidence. The FDNY ran crazy that night, rivaling July 4th as the busiest night of the year. They often put two men on the hose wagons as roving patrols through the neighborhoods.
My corner bonfire always ended by a visit from Engine Company 79. I even recall their Ward LaFrance wagon showing up and the men put out the fire with a length of 1 1/2" hose hooked up directly from the hydrant. The fires were so hot they would scar the asphalt in the street.
My first memory is of Election Day 1952, all the kids shouting the catchy "I Like Ike" (Eisenhower) even though all our parents were Democrats for Stevenson. The bonfire custom just petered out by the time I was in high school. But it was always an exciting night for any young street kid in the Bronx.
Election Day was a day off from school. Most of the mothers back then were "stay at home moms" so we were adequately supervised (even while stock piling the fodder for the bonfire). My mom worked as a poll taker but I don't know if she was paid for it. The polling place was old Mr Browns tailor shop on Oliver Place. He rented space in front of the clothing racks for the Board of Elections table where my mom sat checking the polling lists as people came in to vote and often pick up or drop off their clothes. (Mr Brown kept open for business.) The voting machines were located back behind the racks. Like any youngster, my imagination ran wild with what the adults might be doing behind that closed curtain of the booth. (See " The Wizard of Oz".) My mom let me peek inside them one year to further my civic education.
The lines to vote grew long when the men came home from work. All the bars were closed until the polls closed at 8:00 pm. After they went home for supper the lines formed again outside the local taverns (it was an Irish neighborhood). With the men otherwise entertained and the moms putting the babies to bed we boys were free to light the bonfire.
The bonfire custom was centuries old, supposedly to dispose of the ballots but also known as destroying the evidence. The FDNY ran crazy that night, rivaling July 4th as the busiest night of the year. They often put two men on the hose wagons as roving patrols through the neighborhoods.
My corner bonfire always ended by a visit from Engine Company 79. I even recall their Ward LaFrance wagon showing up and the men put out the fire with a length of 1 1/2" hose hooked up directly from the hydrant. The fires were so hot they would scar the asphalt in the street.
My first memory is of Election Day 1952, all the kids shouting the catchy "I Like Ike" (Eisenhower) even though all our parents were Democrats for Stevenson. The bonfire custom just petered out by the time I was in high school. But it was always an exciting night for any young street kid in the Bronx.
