On The Sly

Bryan Adams sang about it. The Summer of '69. It was a good one in the North Country. That was the summer I got married. I had just finished my junior year at Plattsburgh State and couldn't wait to be a husband and maybe a father. Sometimes we rush things a bit.

It was also the summer that the American Legion Post 20 baseball team won the New York State championship. Coached by Harry Demery, along with Bob Garrow and Gary Butler, the Plattsburgh boys won the state title at Doubleday Field in Cooperstown. Many of those players are still living in the North Country, happy to say.

As I continue to clear out boxes from my storage room, I continue to find interesting publications from the old days. I recently discovered the College Directory for the 1969-1970 school year at Plattsburgh State. It was published by the Delta Kappa Delta Fraternity.

On the cover is a picture of the sign in front of Longe's Orange Julep. What a popular spot that was -- for great food and pretty girls! The sign advertises "Char-Broil Hamburgers, Binky-Burgers, Pizza, Submarines, Michigans and Longe's Flavor Crisp Fried Chicken." Makes you want to pull into the parking lot right now, doesn't it?

Inside the front cover is the entire Orange Julep menu: large regular pizza for $1.50, Longe's King Steak Sandwich for 95 cents, michigan red hot for 35 cents, and a large orange julep to drink for 35 cents.

Inside the publication are photos of the college fraternities and sororities and names and addresses of all the students listed by classes. There's my name on page 5: "Raymond D. Gagnon, 15 Couch Street."

On the same page are names of North Country people I recall: Sheridan Garner, George Fradenburg, Linda Fleming-Haubner, Fred Froehlich, Valerie Glaude, Ed Hanlon, my Pi Alpha Nu frat brother Bob Harrigan, John Hollinshead, John Keuleman, Bev Kie, Dave Kretser.

Sprinkled throughout are ads for those local businesses, gone now but not forgotten. The Book House at Plattsburgh Plaza -- the Bermans owned that for awhile. Brodi's Restaurant Bar & Grill -- $1.40 Open Steak Dinner. I don't ever remember eating a steak there, but I downed plenty of Black Labels in my early drinking days.

There's a half-page ad for The Inn of the Nations. Some of my friends had apartments there and it was quite a party spot. For awhile the Pub had go-go girls, big news for us young guys in Plattsburgh. The Inn of the Nations is now known as Lakeside Apartments.

There are ads for The Moc Shop at 340 Cornelia Street and Jerry Donnelly Ltd. at 7 Clinton Street. You could buy the latest records, needles, tape recorders, posters and more at The Record Center at 44 Brinkerhoff Street.

Filion's -- who was in Plattsburgh in those days who never went to Filion's? -- advertises "Greek Day" every Friday from 1-7pm -- Pitchers just 99 cents! No wonder we weren't studying!

And then on page 72 you can find the ad for B & J Restaurant -- "Where Big John's Breakfast Special is a legend -- 99 cents" and "Enjoy Hot Peppered Steak -- the word Hot takes on a new dimension -- for 75 cents." I've written about the hot peppered steaks at B & J's and still to this day the only place I've found that can come close to matching it is the hot peppered steaks over at Bobby's Lounge. They cost more than 75 cents, though!

The directory ends with a list of the staff and faculty at Plattsburgh State at the time. Talk about a walk down memory lane: Mr. George Abbe, Dr. Shakeh Agajanian, Dr. Jim Ashe, Dr. Stuart Baum, Mr. Erwin "Bud" Beyer, Dr. Charles Blood, Mr. Richard Brogowski, Mr. John Caramia, Dr. Arthur Cardany, Mr. Ernie Coons, Mr. Bill Crosby, Mr. John Deeb, Mr. Vince Delio, Dr. George Dicks, Dr. Herman Doh, Dr. Carl Engelhart, Dr. Allan Everest, Mr. Prem Gandhi, Mr. Donald Garrant, Mr. Paul Hackett, Dr. Earl Harlan, Dr. William Hartnett, Dr. Hilton Heming, Mr. Joseph Hennessy, Mr. John Hollop, Miss Ada Holmes, Dr. Ralph Hunkins, Miss Linda Kalish, Mr. William Klock, Dr. Angelo Lamariana, Mr. Teddy Leavitt, Mr. Romuald Lesage, Mr. Al Montanaro, Dr. Arthur Newgarden, Dr. Ernie Rangazas, Drs. Edward and Lillian Redcay, Mr. Phil Reines, Mr. John Terry, to name a bunch.

It was forever ago, but many of us can recall particular friends, professors, events as if they had happened yesterday. I, for one, am happy where I am today. Would you want to go back and start over?

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

It's June 25th -- and around the Gagnon household for the past 57 years that's been an important day. It's the birthday of my little brother, Goose. Now Goose may never forgive me for telling the world about his birthday, because for at least the past 25 years he's refused to celebrate it.

He just acts like it's any other day, but we know better. Baseball had its Goose Gossage and, before him, Goose Goslin. In Plattsburgh there are a few guys who are nicknamed "Goose" but to me, and to most of the North Country, there's only one Goose.

People sometimes call Goose "Foxy" and sometimes people call me "Goose." I guess that's because we are so much alike in looks and maybe in attitudes and behaviors, but that wasn't always the case. In our earlier lives, when I was "Ray" and he was "Gary," we might go weeks without talking to each other.

You see, he was fun-loving, friendly, happy-go-lucky, on the go, and I was quite the opposite. I was serious, often kept to myself, worried too much and liked the quietude of my bedroom, studying my baseball cards and reading sports magazines.

If there was a curfew, and in the Gagnon household there was, I'd arrive home ten minutes early just to be safe. Goose would arrive ten minutes (or more) late, just to test the rule. If we were all dressed up for Easter Sunday mass, suits and bowties and new shoes, we'd be told, "Now don't get those dirty." I'd stand still for an hour afraid to get a wrinkle in my pants, while Goose would be across the street playing baseball and come back home sweaty and dusty.

To top it all off, Goose was a Yankees fan. I wasn't. Goose is still a Yankees fan. I'm not. He said Whitey was best, and I said it was Sandy. He said Mickey was best, and I said Duke was. He said Casey was the best manager, and I told him Walter was.

There was only one thing we saw eye-to-eye on, it seems, and that was picking on our little sister Darlene. That seemed to be the only time Goose and I shared a laugh together as kids. Oh, we could come up with the greatest schemes to pick on our darling little sister. We were a team when it came to that.

As the years flew by, some things began to change. We never know the course our lives will take. The Beatles were right: it is a long and winding road. When Goose was forty years old, heart problems almost cost him his life. For three days we kept a vigil at the hospital. For three days Goose wasn't with us. He could tell you where he was for three days while we stood at his bedside, hoping we'd get Goose back.

Seventeen years later, here he is, not celebrating his birthday. And seventeen years later, here he is -- my best friend. Through the ups and downs in my own adult life, my brother has been there by my side, making sure I'd end the day with a smile. He's given me advice, and, by golly, he seems to be able to predict the future. So often Goose has shown his wisdom when it comes to dealing with life, with setbacks, with friends.

Anyone who knows Goose knows that he has a heart of gold. He's always been that way. He always has had a legion of friends. He's always been hard-working and he still is. Whether it's his multi-tasking jobs at Charter Cable or umpiring Little League baseball games or working with me on our football tv games of the week, Goose gives it his all.

So what if another birthday quietly slips by today? I know it won't slow him down. He's still got plenty to do.

And something else odd has happened to both of us through the years. It seems like both of us have moved toward the center in our manner of living. We seem to think more and more alike, and, even, behave more and more alike. I say Goose has become more like me. He says I've become more like him.

No matter. It is great if anyone even says that I am like my little brother. That is a proud moment for me. Goose Gagnon is quite a guy, and I'm so happy that he's my brother.

Only thing is ... he's a Yankees fan. I'm not.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 12:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

All the recent talk about drive-in theatres has me thinking about what other vestiges of my past have vanished. Yesterday, while my internet was down, I spent over twenty minutes talking to an automated operator at the cable company. Finally I was able to reach a real live human voice, and I felt an immediate sense of relief.

Whatever happened to telephone operators? There is a huge building on Oak Street in Plattsburgh, and up on the second or third floor there was a large room with large machines and thousands of cables and cords. And the room used to be full of real live human beings, mostly female, who were known as telephone operators. My Aunt Gen Laundrie was one of them.

"Number, please," they would say, and then they would move a cord from one place on the switchboard in front of them to another place. I fully understand that technology reached the point where a machine could perform the same transfer quickly and cheaper. And that meant that people like my Aunt Gen were out of a job. But it says nothing about the reassurance one feels when they hear the voice of a real live human being.

And I guess technology has done in the good old encyclopedia salesman who used to come knocking on your door. These salesmen had a way of finding out what families had young kids who would need to be doing some research for their school projects. And, according to them, there was no better investment in your child's future than buying a set of big bulky, where-do-we-put them? encyclopedias.

But I recall sitting through more than a few sales pitches as my parents pondered which encyclopedia would best help their sons and daughter become President of the United States or Pope. I think my parents eventually chose World Book Encyclopedia. No matter. Those books, purchased from my Dad's hard-earned money, eventually collected dust and still sit in a bedroom at my Mom's house on Johnson Avenue, unopened since 1973.

Another salesman you could count on way back when was the vacuum cleaner salesman. There wasn't a housewife in Plattsburgh who never went to the front door to find a 40-year-old guy standing there with a vacuum cleaner the size of a jeep propped by his side. He always promised that he would "take only five minutes of your time, ma'am."

It seemed like vacuum cleaner salesmen never showed up when my Dad was home. They must have had a way of finding out all the dads' work schedules, because my Dad would have said, "No, not interested, thanks" and shut the door. But salesmen knew that Moms were pushovers and my Mom would always let the guy into our living room for a demonstration.

Within minutes the guy was throwing a pile of dirt on our living room carpet. I mean, a whole pile of dirt. More dirt than I'd accumulate in my shoes in a whole summer of playing baseball in Elizabeth Street school yard. And, vroom, vroom, that brand new vacuum cleaner would suck all that dirt up in seconds.

The vacuum cleaner salesman would continue his sales pitch for another thirty minutes, showing all the extra parts that came with his piece of machinery. He'd give all the reasons why this monster was meant for this house. Another thirty minutes would pass as he gathered all the parts strewn all around the living room and left without a sale.

Dinner would be an hour late that night, Dad wouldn't be happy, and Mom would still be without that award-winning vacuum cleaner which comes with a seal of approval from Good Housekeeping.

And whatever happened to the milkman? My bedroom was on the street, and, in the summertime with my bedroom window open, I would hear the squeek of the brakes of Mr. Art Panton's Rosebud Creamery truck. I knew that it was somewhere between 5 am and 6 am. I'd hear the rattle of the milk bottles in his little metal crate. I'd hear him humming as he placed the bottles in our milk box by the front door.

Some mornings I'd actually pop out of bed just to watch him do his job. He'd always have a little stub of a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. I'm not sure why we ever lost the morning milkman. Seems like even today we could use a milkman. Especially us seniors who could save ourselves a trip to the grocery store.

Telephone operators, encyclopedia salesmen, vacuum cleaner salesmen, milkmen. All parts of my past that I'll never see again. Gosh, the world sure is changing. I bet someday doctors will even stop making house calls.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Is there a man among us who never planned, connived, dreamed of getting their favorite honey away for a night at the drive-in theatre? If you're too young, you're just out of luck on this one!

Back in the 1960s and early 1970s, I suppose, the North Country was a mecca for drive-in theatres. I remember the Stardust Drive-In and the Plattsburgh Drive-In. One was on Route 3, somewhere around where Ponderosa is now. The other was over on Route 9 across from the North Country Shopping Center. As for which was which, you'll have to straighten me out of that one.

Then there was the big drive-in theatre that opened -- the Super 87, over where the Clinton County Jail is now. And up north at Honey Mooers Corners was the Border Drive-In, as I recall. And further north, right near the Canadian border, in Champlain was the, let me guess, Northway Drive-In.

I'm not certain how right I am about all this, but there are some things I'm sure of. When we were kids, it was a big deal for the whole family to go to watch an outdoor movie on that gigantic screen. You'd hook the sound box onto the driver's side window and spend three hours crunching homemade popcorn and fighting off mosquitoes.

My Dad hated drive-ins, so we went only a few times as kids. I remember that the drive-in theatre in Champlain was right in the back yard of my uncle and aunt, Bob and Theresa Venne. Uncle Bob worked up a deal so that he had speakers for the movies installed right on his screened-in back porch. Movies every night, if you wanted it.

I'm sure about another thing. Once we were old enough to drive a car at night, we'd start planning on a drive-in movie date. Maybe you'd double date with a friend and his girlfriend, or maybe you'd just go with your favorite girl.

In the Sixties, this was a sure fire way to impress a girl, have a chance to cuddle in the dark legally and watch the first ten minutes of a movie. The next 90 minutes of the movie was up to you and your girlfriend.

Of course, you would take a break and hit the concession stand for some popcorn and soda, maybe a hot dog or two or even a burger. Without the onions!

I never did this maneuver, but some of my friends tried to sneak their buddies in by hiding them in the trunk of the car. Then you'd have to find the right time, when it was dark enough, to unlock the trunk and let them out.

Look what those kids in the 80s and good old 90s missed out on. That's one that we will forever have up on them. I just can't imagine growing up without drive-in movies. It was part of our passage into adulthood.

Alas, one by one they died out to VHS movies and VCRs. The entire family could stay at home and watch movies right there in the living room without mosquitoes. Heck, you could even watch movies right there in your bedroom.

As I look back there are a few good memories and a few pretty girls I can recall all because of the Stardust Drive-In. Even though I'm now sixty, I could still name a pretty girl or two I'd love to bring to the drive-in one more time.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 10:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I realized a few days ago that I have never written a blog about Father's Day. Never before, perhaps, has Father's Day meant so much to me as this Father's Day. It marks the first time that my son will be honored as a father.

As a kid my mother always made sure that we celebrated Father's Day. After church services we'd have a wonderful Sunday dinner. Then we'd go to the living room and give Dad a gift. A card. A tie. A box of white handerchiefs. Something nice and useful like that.

When I became a Dad it remained a special day. My father and I celebrated five Father's Days as dads together. My son was born in 1978 and my Dad passed away in 1983. My Dad, Ray Gagnon, spent his career with the New York Telephone Company, starting as a repairman before I was born and, through the years, moving into management as a Building Foreman. He worked a few years extra to add to his pension and to make sure that, if anything happened to him, his family would have something to fall back on.

Even though he was dedicated to his family and his job, he still found time to be a Boy Scout Leader and a Little League Baseball coach, join OLVA's Athletic Association and a church group. He always made sure we took a family vacation every summer. A week's getaway -- to the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto, to Nantasket Beach in Massachusetts, to Cooperstown to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Shortly after he retired, doctors recommended bypass surgery. He was a 2% risk since he was so youthful and in such great condition. Sadly he never fully recovered from the surgery and died a year later.

As my son grew older I would look forward to a card on Father's Day, a few words on a piece of paper, saying what a good Dad I was. He never let me down. It always would get me teary-eyed. It was that gentle pat on the back for all the little things that Dads do to make their kids smile.

2008 marks the first year that my son and I are both fathers. It will be a special day. Erik and his wife Sarah drove from the Albany area with their son, my grandson, Ethan to spend the weekend. Erik and I will get to spend time once again watching baseball, telling stories and maybe even enjoying a bucket of hot wings.

But this year he'll be telling me stories about being a Dad. About getting up in the middle of the night because Ethan was crying. About changing diapers and worrying when Ethan just didn't want to fall asleep. About the excitement of watching his son eating a squashed banana for the first time.

On Father's Day we will be taking the first family photo of the "Four Gagnon Boys" -- Foxy, Goose, Big E and Ethan. There will be an 8x10 of that on my living room wall by Monday morning. I'm looking forward to Father's Day like never before.

There are a lot of great Dads out there. I'd love to hear about yours.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

The sorting of boxes continues at my house, and, as I do so, I unearth more things from the past. Like a 1964 Battle of Plattsburgh official program for our city's Sesqui-Centennial.

Remember that year? Many of our fathers and older brothers grew beards to replicate the look of our ancestors in 1814. I remember many of the older guys playing baseball that spring sporting beards, especially some on the Plattsburgh High School team.

I don't remember any of our senior guys having beards, though. Guys like Wayne Bedard, Larry Hebert, Dickie Kelly, Marvin Brown and Donnie LaVarnway. Coach Flynn surely would have insisted all the Foxes be clean shaven. And we sophomores barely knew what a razor looked like.

I enjoyed looking over the list of names and perusing the pictures in the Sesqui-Centennial program. The dates of the celebration were July 3-11, 1964. The mayor was John "Jack" "Tarmac Jack" Tyrell and his council of aldermen were Christopher Booth, John Beauvais, Gil Duken, Henry Sabourin, Barry Branon and John Flynn.

John Colver was the City Chamberlain at the time and other department heads were George Miller (City Clerk), Clement Young (Chief of Police), Richard King (Fire Chief), Frank Behan (Superintendent of Water & Sewage), Chris Repas (Superintendent of Public Works) and Pete Blumette (Director of Recreation).

What interested me even more, though, once again, were the ads for businesses from 1964. Now we're talking! Now we have some businesses that I frequented a time or two before they disappeared from the face of Plattsburgh. I remember all these local businesses:

City Taxi - 70 Montcalm Avenue
Booth's Flower Shop - Morrisonville Road
Studholme's Men's Clothing Store - 87 Margaret Street
Todd Pontiac - 191 Broad Street
Toot & Tell 'Em Restaurant - Beekmantown Road
The House By the Side of the Road (James & Leola Campbell, Proprietors) - Route 9
Ray Supply Company - 13 Sailly Avenue
Branson's Restaurant & Bar - 46 US Avenue
Crystal Restaurant - 24 Oak Street
Roman Gardens Restaurant - Cornelia Street
Lippa & Company Jewelers - 83 Margaret Street
Austin's - 82 Margaret Street
Barrette's Sunoco - Margaret Street & Bailey Avenue
Warren Holt Gulf - Beekmantown Road
Harry Alpert General Contractors - 53-A Main Mill Street
Canale School of Beauty Culture (Robert & Cora Canale) - 62 Bridge Street
Lester's Market - 150 South Peru Street
Murray's Fine Foods & Meats - 111 Montcalm Avenue
L & M Motel & Restaurant - 310 Margaret Street
Plattsburgh Lanes - 44 Sharron Avenue
Domenic's Charcoal Pit - Route 9
McMartin Motors
Rector's Midtown Motel & Restaurant - Corner Margaret Street & Sailly Avenue
Tradewinds Motor Hotel with the Lamplighter Lounge - 64 Margaret Street
Bell's Grill - 11 St. John's Street
Elmer's Market (Elmer & Lorraine Rowbotham) - 49 South Catherine Street
Akey & Brohinsky TV Sales & Service - 18 George Street
Baker Pharmacy - Corner of South Catherine Street & Johnson Avenue
Beemer's - 10 Brinkerhoff Street
Hi-Way Restaurant (John & Elsie Rivers) - Route 9 South
Ron's Barber Shop - Corner of South Peru Street & Johnson Avenue
Brewster's Paint & Hardware - 9 South Platt Street
The Pizza Corner - Corner of Brinkerhoff & Oak Streets

And how about that Pizza Corner menu! A large pizza for $1.60. Large pizza with pepperoni for $2. A hot meat ball sandwich for just 60 cents. A full sub for 60 cents.

1964 -- those were the days!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Since, thanks to my brother, my 60th birthday announcement has already been splashed all over WIRY-Radio, I figure I might as well admit to the deed. I won't say 60 scares me, but it is not something I was looking forward to.

As some of my closest friends know, at one time I thought I would die at the age of 48. Didn't happen. So, I figure maybe I had it backwards and I'm going to live to be 84. No matter. If I look back on 60 years, there are a lot of smiles.

High school years were really happy ones. Playing sports for "the Foxes" with great friends and teammates. Basketball games, especially my own final four. Baseball double-headers in 80-degree weather at Bailey Avenue Ball Park. The blinding flashes on Prom Night 1965, entering the gymnasium with Sue as King and Queen of the prom.

The high school class trip to New York City. Little groups of friends sneaking away from the nuns to go exploring Manhattan. Rod Dame, John DesRocher, Donald Wells and I managed to get into the Copacabana night club to see Bobby Vinton. And I met Peter Asher, of the singing duo Peter and Gordon, in the men's room, of all places. "Never again!" declared Sister Genevieve. Was it really the last OLVA trip to the Big Apple?

Winning the John Flynn Scholarship in 1966 and having the chance to thank my first teacher, my Mom, and my first coach, my Dad. Growing up in a happy home in a happy neighborhood with a little brother and little sister. It was like "Leave it to Beaver." We could have been the Cleavers.

The birth of my son on August 22, 1978, and the birth of my grandson on February 10, 2008. There are other dates I will never forget, some sad, some happy. October 9, 2004. March 18, 2005. Life goes on.

The fun of working at Gus's Red Hots during my four years of college, and becoming friends of the Niforos and Larios families. Wonderful people. I always left work with a smile and onions on my breath.

It's funny how little moments can stay in one's head for such a long time. My first kiss -- Beverly -- and my first real kiss -- Christine.

Listening to my son speak at his high school graduation. Man-to-man talks with my Dad. Sometimes it seems like they would last forever, but he was always calm, making his point, looking me straight in the eye. And ending it with a hug. Seems to me I occasionally had the same sessions with my own son as he was growing up.

Getting hired by Dr. Antonio Lancione and Fred Kirk for my first teaching job -- one that would last 35 years.

And so much more -- in 60 years. Are there more happy moments ahead? I'm already a Power Seller on eBay. What more is there to accomplish?

Maybe today I'll call a certain someone and spend the night at Peabody's dancing till the early morning hours, pretending I'm 25.

Nah!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 10:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (24)

1940 -- anyone born in that year would be 68 years old, or about eight years older than I. Recently while emptying a box in my storage room, I came across a scorecard for the Plattsburgh Majors baseball team. It was dated "August 27, 1940."

The most recognizable name in the Majors' lineup was "Pajonas," incorrectly spelled "Bajonas." He played shortstop and had a single, a double and a triple in four at bats. "Fallon" played first base and "Pope" was the pitcher.

But I was more interested in all the business advertisements throughout the scorecard. Some of the establishments I recognized, but many were new to me. Maybe some of the more senior Blogoteers will remember the ones that I have never heard of.

Here are some Plattsburgh businesses in the scorecard that I have heard of:

Merkel's - "You'll Make a Hit When You Shop at Merkel's -- Store of Cheerful Service"
Ginsberg's - "Everything for the Home on Terms" -- 55-57 Bridge Street
Meron's - "Just a Step from the Ball Grounds -- Best of Food, also featuring Dancing Every Night"
Monopole - "Phil J. Blair, Proprietor"
Larkin Pharmacy - 5 Bridge Street
Clinton Diner - "Eat in Comfort -- Opposite Press Office"
The Fife & Drum - "A New and Unique Restaurant and Bar"
Nitzi's Michigan Red Hot Shop- "Look for the Neon Sign" - Lake Shore Road
Rosebud Creamery

Some businesses advertising on the scorecard that I never heard of include:

Wilson's Corner Store - 1 Broad Street
Candyland Restaurant - "The Best of Food, Ice Cream Sodas" - 62 Margaret Street
Baughn & Defore Service Station - Margaret & Cornelia Streets
McGaulley's Cocktail Lounge - "Where Food and Service Please" - 17 Margaret Street
Park Hotel & Grill - "We Serve Nicer Things to Eat" - 12 City Hall Place, John D. Martin, Owner
Club Restaurant - "Visit Our New Deluxe Counter and Table Service" - 103 Margaret Street
Wallace Hill Milk - George W. Grube, Owner
Gero's North End Tavern & Grill - "Fresh Seafoods, Sizzling Steaks, Charcoal Broiling at No Extra Cost" - Miller Street
The Lido Grill - "Dancing Every Night" - Margaret Street, Graves & Maloney, Proprietors
Reeves Brothers - "Groceries - Fruits - Vegetables - We Deliver" - 12 Cornelia Street
The Savage Studio - "Portrait & Commercial Photography" - 52 Margaret Street
Mickey's Tavern - "Bigger & Better - Real Italian Spaghetti with Chicken, Mushrooms or Meatballs" - 20 1/2 - 22 Margaret Street
J.J. O'Neill, Funeral Director - 72 Brinkerhoff Street

Part of the ever-changing face of Plattsburgh. Maybe some day a blogger will be checking out a dusty old copy of the Press-Republican, dated June 2, 2008, and wondering about "Olive Ridley's" and "Lashway's Meat Market" and "Mangia's" and "Richard's Bait & Tackle Shop."

(FOXY'S NOTE:) Shortly after this blog was published, I received an interesting e-mail from a longtime friend and longtime North Country resident. He wrote: "Hey Foxy, you did it again with another tour down memory lane. Wilson's Corner Store was known to all who attended the old PHS building. Johnny Wilson stood much shorter than you, but was a giant in the food business. Just about every kid I know of ate their lunch there. We were allowed to leave school for one hour to have lunch. The kids would gather at Johnny's for his steamed hot dog and bun costing a mere 15 cents and a 12 ounce Pepsi for 5 cents. At Johnny's you could use all the mustard, catsup and relish you wanted. With 45 minutes left we all headed downtown to give the store owners fits... I also remember all the other places you mentioned except McGaulley's Cocktail Bar and Wallace Hill Dairy...Many of those places you mentioned were still around in the late fifties... At the Lido on Margaret Street I had many cool brews in 1951."

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 3:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)