Some of our classmates, thankfully, do still remember them well — those years at Midwood. And those memories, shared here, jog our own. Merged on this website, they bring back a lot of images, some poignant, some happy, some downright hysterical. Add your Midwood days' memories for us to share. Email them to us at: [email protected]
Incidentally, if you're into Brooklyn nostalgia in general, here's a nice website of Brooklyn photos, accompanied by Neil Diamond singing "Brooklyn Roads" : http://www.4shared.com/embed/1082570925/ed60ab66
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Taking the "Six-major" program, Midwood's reply to Sputnik, for the right to go to the main building as a sophomore and eat lunch at what must have been 10:30 am...Mr. Fialkoff repeatedly saying something incomprehensible in chemistry class, then raising his hand and asking "How many understand that?" while simultaneously turning away to look at the blackboard and missing the five or six hands (out of 30 or so) that went up...The annual smell of rotten eggs wafting through the first-floor hall, Glenwood Avenue side, on hydrogen sulfite day...Mrs. Emil outraging many in our Social Studies class by telling us, shortly after Battista was overthrown, that our then-hero, Fidel Castro, was a Communist… Contributing to "Tractors for Freedom"…Mr.Weiss singing, "Off to the back of the book we go," whenever a new theorem was introduced...SOHCAHTOA… Seeing my first Sing, as a sophomore, and being completely overwhelmed by the massive presence of the junior class, all dressed in red, shaking the entire auditorium at BAM while singing about shooting the Czar and the Czarina in a cellar on Revolution Day...The immortal, and now ironic, song line from our Senior Sing: "Alexander Graham Bell -- Invented the telephone so we don't have to yell"...The best (properly) discarded Sing premise: trying to compete with James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, Desiderius Erasmus, Abraham Lincoln and Samuel J. Tilden by searching for, finding and lauding the accomplishments of the far too unsung Irving Midwood… Participating in civil defense drills, which did much to calm our fears of nuclear immolation ...Mr. Kostman refusing to cross the teachers' picket line during the UFT recognition strike...The opening, at last, of Midwood's own home field...Miss Mulhern's green space shoes...Circle pins and Jean Nate, English Leather and Canoe… Spontaneous a capella renditions of In the Still of the Night and Earth Angel… Underground at Artie's Poolroom...The requirement that students sign a loyalty oath pledging, among other things, not to attempt or conspire to overthrow by force, violence or other unlawful means the State of New York or the County of Kings… Struggling to make the mandatory rope climb in gym… Listening to the premier of Dylan Thomas' Fern Hill, set by John Corigliano, Jr. before he was the John Corigliano, Jr…. "Siberia," where much happened that can't be noted here… Watching 20+ new officers and commissioners taking the oath of office of the City of Midwood and stumbling to say "unselfish-ingly" in unison, without losing it...Ordering an "E and a coke" ...The thrill of hearing and singing, "Ride the Chariot"...The ethereal and, to me, eternal Linda Lee. — Harvey Yaverbaum
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I remember Mr. Cabat, who scared the bejeezus out of us on the first day of school. He went around the room, demanding that we all roll our r's. Most of us couldn't. Besides, we were too busy shaking! Our first assignment was to show that we could roll those r's by the end of the week. And, lo and behold, we all did!! I remember Cookie's on Avenue J and East 16th Street. We'd go there after concerts and evening rehearsals, and finish off bowls and bowls of pickles. They were the best ever. I've been looking for the equivalent of Cookie's pickle ever since, and it doesn't seem to exist any more. Pure heaven!! (Pure sodium, too.) John Corigliano, Jr., son of the first violinist of the New York Philharmonic, had wanted to be a composer, but his dad wanted him to go into a more "lucrative" field. Mrs. Tillis gave him the moral support to follow his dream. While attending Columbia University, he wrote a beautiful choral work, Fern Hill, which he dedicated to her. Mixed Chorus '61 performed the world premiere, and I was fortunate enough to accompany the chorus. I went to John's apartment to rehearse with him. Years later, Mrs. Tillis told me a little secret — my father stood outside the apartment with his ear to the door to ensure that there was no hanky-panky going on! John is now considered to be one of the greatest American composers of the twentieth century! — Irma (Peck) Gurman
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Everyone should remember we had a "senior's only lounge" in the cafeteria — and in that elite corner, of course we also had our little groups and seats. One day, and for several days thereafter, a sophomore decided to sit with my group of friends — and in my seat! I told him on several occasions to leave, but he refused. One day it got to me, so I took his lunch, threw it in the garbage, then picked him up, chair and all, and dumped him, too, into the garbage dumpster. It was a good laugh for sure. At graduation it was really hot. (As a joke, some of us were actually naked under our gowns.) It was so hot that my grandmother, who was in the stands, actually passed out from the heat, and they had to bring in an ambulance to treat her. (She did recover and the day went on.). I did have one memorable experience in my senior year with a teacher. Her name was Marian Mulhern, and she taught English. She scared the heck out of me on the first day of the September semester. She announced that she wanted to know who had read some books over the summer, and asked that those persons raise their hands. I didn't, so she asked me why, and, of course I said it was summer, and I was having fun. To paraphrase, she responded, "Young man, I don't think you and I will ever get along this semester, and you'll probably fail." Scary huh? As it turned out, we did have a good year, despite that initial exchange. — Steve Korot
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Thanks, Harvey, for jarring my ever-more-impaired memory; I hadn’t thought of Mr. Fialkoff in years. There was the rumor (fact?) that he had made a lot of money on some chemical patent, and was only teaching us for the fun of it. He had some trouble with our names; I remember once he called on Kronenberg and when Paul started to answer, he said, “Not you, Bregstein, Kroninboig!” He was generally gruff with people who couldn’t answer or got it wrong, but there was a girl (maybe more than one?) in the front whom he coached toward the answers, fawning so ostentatiously it was hard to keep a straight face. He liked to tell us about the past: “There used to be a soap called Fairy Soap; you all know what a fairy is, doncha?” We did, and giggled accordingly. I remember Mr. Weiss in geometry class could pivot his arm at the elbow, and like a human compass, draw a perfect circle on the board. We had a lot of extraordinary teachers, but that is the pedagogical trick that stuck in my mind. I suppose it was the math teachers, Mr. Weiss and Dr. Shapiro, who influenced me the most, but the Midwood course I loved best was senior English with Mr. Grebanier, where we read the King James Bible in the fall, and Shakespeare in the spring. He read a lot of it aloud to us. Some people thought his readings were corny, but I loved them. College applications were pretty civilized for us compared to later generations, like our children’s. Amos Alter made up an “Application for Amos Alter” with a space for the “college name, university name first, a place for a picture of the college president, and an essay, “Why we want Amos Alter.” The college counselors (Miss Bradshaw?) got wind of it and went into a panic, seemingly afraid he would send it out, and the colleges would retaliate by rejecting us all. We graduated into a world of civil rights and Vietnam, of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. All that put the Midwood years in a distinct and more innocent epoch. Or does everyone feel that about high school, regardless of the larger world? Fifty years. I couldn’t imagine being this old. I l be happily (and with some curiosity) looked forward to seeing so many friends from long-gone youth. I am the sort of asocial person who doesn’t go to events like this, and doesn’t join things, but I was really excited about this one, and hoped the rest of the recluses would show up, too, since they were the people I most wanted to see again. — Mark Cane
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September 1957 was etched in U.S. history because of the Little Rock Nine. (As fate would deem it, one of the Little Rock Nine students and I would cross paths in adulthood, and have a lasting professional relationship. I became his daughter’s pediatrician, and remained as such until she finished college.) Cheryl McKoy and I were the only two African-American (then Negro) students in our Freshman Class of '57. A few others (Austin Sobers, James Sealy and Judy Turner) joined our class in the sophomore year. I have treasured memories of my educational and social experiences at Midwood — all good. I remember fondly wonderful teachers, DOXA, the “City” of Midwood and all the commissions, Regents Exams, and that our class won Sing! Our class was the first to enter 9th grade at the Kensington Annex. On my second day, I had the great fortune to meet Audrey Bomse. What a union! We became fast friends and, although now living continents apart, remain best friends. We manage to communicate regularly, make each other’s special events, and have vacationed together. — Lillian (McLean) Beard
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Having read some others’ memories, some are floating out of the mists of long-abandoned times. I think we felt the force of most of the teachers wanting to be there and teach us. There was a civilized and benign air of expecting you to do your best, but tolerance for our sometimes misguided youth and teenage craziness. I will never forget the teachers, especially Mr. Grebanier, an inspirational teacher and student-government advisor. Big, untidy, passionate about the learning we all shared with him, but also relaxed and shambling, with a great laugh. (I remember how shocked I was when I heard the story of how he fell out with his brother, who was an English professor at Brooklyn College, over giving names to the McCarthy Hearings, and they never spoke since. Of course, our Mr Grebanier was one of the good guys — but you already knew that.) The senior-year elective classes in the Bible, Shakespeare, Greek tragedies and comedies, as well as others, including "college" history, were about the subjects themselves, and we were encouraged to share them. As I went on to higher education, I was surprised that no other students from elsewhere seem to have had these opportunities—and that has remained one of the things that made our time at Midwood — and us —privileged and special. Mrs. Tillis was the engine behind our chance to be creative and call the shots in our own ways through Sing. Student government gave us a forum to think about what we were doing (perhaps an illusion then as now?). Not a mathematician, I was even shown how to make Trig work. Mrs. Venit’s economics class was the real thing; I was amazed (perhaps subconsciously flattered) even then that she actually did research for our classes—so we must have been worth it! Mr. Granit had the sharpest-cut tailoring and stories that conjured up the allure of sophisticated European travel and bohemian interests. The calm and encour-aging presence of Mr. Sayer and Mr. Gordon must have been one factor in my increasing love of history. The slightly sardonic and laconic Mr. Godin in French, and the other somewhat tetchy and off-center person-alities all added to the mix. I also liked sharing some classes with and getting to know and respect people doing Vocational and Commercial as well as Academic studies. I was in awe of the talents, humor and smarts of lots of you (you know who you are; for starters: Harvey, Sarjie, Irma, Felice, Felicia, Lesley, Sue, Howie, Liz, Mark, Kathy, et al). I remember Sing lyrics committee meetings, the part-harmony singing on the subway trips ("Why must I be a teenager in love?") and wishing I had the talent to be one of the music people (all that ballet does not make a singing voice!). I remember Cookie's and other haunts, but I did not have the knack or confidence for "hanging-out" as opposed to going home to do the reading and the work. It is no surprise that although Britain has a great "pub culture, " a nice meal is usually involved if I do go to a pub, rather than hours holding forth with a glass in my hand. When Irma (Peck) Gurman tracked me down, the first other person I asked her about was the lovely Linda Lee, my friend and co-pilot for Junior Sing, and was deeply shocked to hear of her early demise. (So Harvey and Nick are not alone in their memories, although I suspect theirs are somewhat different in flavor from mine.) However, I am delighted to find that so many of you are still in the Brooklyn/Greater NewnYork and New Jersey area or it’s modern suburbs, Florida and California. I always felt an outsider/observer, but Midwood was a great source for studying all the shifting alliances and sub-groups that I have continued to find fascinating in history and life. There it was... Sing, choirs, student politics, Booster/ cheerleaders, sports and student athletics and all the girls who wanted to be my "friend" when they realized my big brother was captain of the swim team and Mayor of Midwood. (At 70 he is still in great shape!) And finally, one old formerly-lost memory has resurfaced……if you are still alive and have the odd brain cell for memory, will the person who sent me an anonymous Valentine’s Day card, please step forward! I now can remember that it used to drive me crazy trying to work out who it was (I was in need of a social confidence boost). I decided it may well have been a practical joke! But it would be nice to have a laugh now. So thank you to the Reunion Committee for giving me the chance to float all this around my head and make contact with some friends from the past. — Susan Nyman
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When I entered Midwood as a sophomore, I decided that I wanted to hang with the cool kids. They were all going out for cheerleaders and Omicron Omega, the coolest of all the sororities. Needless to say, I didn't make either (I was definitely NOT cool), and, crushed, I was sure my high school career would be a complete disaster. But then I discovered B-71 and Sing, and my place at Midwood was secured. I loved writing songs for our class. (Remember "It's a Castro Convertible government," or "Central High is mixed, and the steel strike is fixed…"?) AND I got to know the "cool kids" and a lot of others (who I hope will show up for Reunion). As others have said, Mrs. Tillis MADE Midwood, and her magic continues to bless my memories to this day. Mixed Chorus was the other anchor for me — Ride the Chariot, Hallelujah Chorus, and all those Jewish kids singing Christmas carols (we packed onto subway cars and belted them out, in four-part harmony, for the astonished and, I hope, delighted passengers). Cookie's...The Chinese restaurant on Avenue J where, if you were very sophisticated and adventurous, you ordered Moo Goo Gai Pan instead of Chow Mein... French 5 with Miss Bradshaw (if you were thinking Ivy League, she adored you; if not, then….)...Mr. Grebanier ...Gladys Bernstein...Sid Hirsch for Shakespeare...Those appalling gym outfits (straight from the Bloomer Girls)… Arnie Deerson playing "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" or Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata whenever he got close to a piano...Harvey Yaverbaum's (successful) run for Mayor of Midwood ("I'm voting for Harvey what's-his-name; Yaverbaum, that's a funny name")...Irma Peck, who could play ANYTHING on the piano! As I look back, I realize that my best memories are infused with music. What a magical place Midwood was for us! — Sara-Jane (Sarjie Mermelstein) Cohen
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There was the year in the dungeons of Kensington, a limbo year, during which we were no longer in elementary school, but clearly not in high school either... Mrs. Rossman's Honor English class; she was a good teacher, possibly the one who set me on the path to becoming a writer and an English teacher… Pledging for sorority, ALP (years before I , and so many others, wised up and rejected that concept), which included having to write an essay, "The sex life of a doorknob" (catchy title, isn't it?), and jumping up, open paper bag extended, to "catch" the smoke from the Camel smoke-ring blowing man on the billboard ad in Times Square… The Mid-Mad Stag Drag, better remembered for its name than its content…The January grads' prom substitute. I seem to recall Tavern on the Green and Basin Street East...Working in the office of Mr. Fialkoff, not at all a fearsome atmosphere… Finally, 16 and old enough to smoke with my parents' permission (but not on Midwood grounds), and it had to be Benson & Hedges because they were English and came in a wide, flat box, unlike plebian American cigarettes…Bermuda shorts and crew-neck sweaters…Getting my hair into a perfect "flip"…Walking across Brooklyn College campus, and pretending ...Mr. Gordon's Social Studies lessonduring which we were taught how to fold the New York Times for subway reading. (Mr. Gordon also took the time to write a Regents review book.) Mr. Zutler was, shall we say, "unique." One rainy day, when he was caught without an umbrella, he arrived at school covered in a plastic bag. He actually taught us the same lesson for three days in a row! We figured out why on the third day: he was expecting to be observed, and had prepared what he thought was a good lesson (unlike the rest of his inane classroom sessions), and he was going to teach it until that observation took place, class progress be damned!… Some of us January graduates will recall that, unlike the June class, we did have a prom. In fact, I recall it being at Basin Street East. Sarah Vaughn was supposed to be the star that night, but instead we got Chris Conner. Sing! Glorious Sing, and Bella Tillis. We were so fortunate to have had her — the last year that she led it. (In the program of our Senior Sing, she wrote that she'd launched it at Midwood, and had led 55 Sings in a period of 15 years.) To my mind, Bella Tillis was the spirit and soul of Midwood. — Elinore (Hirsch) Kaplan
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THE NOVICE TENNIS TOURNAMENT -- Tennis was one of the few successful sports at Midwood '57-'61. Making the team depended on one of two routes. Either you took tennis lessons from Murray Eisenstadt, the Social Studies teacher who coached the team (conflict of interest?), or you got to the semi-finals of "The Novice Tennis Tournament," which was held once a year, with minimal publicity to enhance the exclusivity of the team. Since lessons were financially out of the question, I played in the tournament, and was fortunate enough to have a lucky draw and make it to the semi-finals — to Murray's chagrin.
MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE TEACHER -- We all have our own secret thoughts about what we really think is true, in spite of what some authority is passing off as the truth. I never imagined that I would ever speak out what I really thought until I was exposed to Dora Venit. With a gleam in her eye, and a broad toothy grin, she simply brought out the id in everyone who wanted to be a free-thinker. After a year of hearing her "undress so many emperors" in the open classroom, I was never the same. I began to appreciate the charm of being candid as long as you are truthful and not too hurtful. -- Ed Grayson
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My most vivid memory of Midwood is Mr. Blatt, who taught Social Studies. Because my first name starts with B, he always called me "Buh." I adored him. He was one of the best teachers I ever had. His class was interesting, challenging, and thoroughly enjoyable... I remember Biology class with Mr. Heymont. The class was huge, but he managed to keep our interest, and make the subject matter so meaningful. I remember becoming aware that there was an "in" crowd and feeling that I did not have the "right" clothing to fit in with the others. At the same time, I felt that my fellow students were the sharpest people on the planet, and, because I always loved school and learning, that I was so lucky to be in such an intellectually-challenging environment. I also remember a school dance in our sophomore year that embodied all the clichés that we still talk about vis-a-vis high-school dances. In my sophomore year, my mom told me that she was pregnant! I almost died (no, not literally). Here I was, fifteen years old, studying all "that stuff" in biology, and she was having a baby! Of course, it all worked out. Today, Lloyd is my wonderful 52-year old brother with whom I have an excellent relationship. I no longer have those awkward teen-age feelings (one of the perks of getting older), so I knew that I'd have a great time at the reunion. I looked forward to seeing everyone there, and to partying up a storm. — Beverly (Hyman) Friedman
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Freshman year was probably the most pleasant. I had Mr.Tholfsen (Spanish), Mrs. Carajohn (Science), Mrs. Ross (World Geography), and Mr. Kassoy (Spanish), who were all great. I also had Mrs. Randles (English), Mrs. Heller (Music), Mr. Zutler (Science), and Mr. Fried (Gym and Health Ed.) With Mr. Rosenberg, who taught Band, we had some good times. We marched at the Midwood football games at halftime. In 1960, we played at the dedication of the opening of an annex for Beth Israel Hospital in Manhattan, at which Mayor Wagner spoke. In the main building, as sophs, we were put on P.M. session. Hence, we didn’t finish until 5:40 P.M. Mr. Moscowitz, the gym teacher, required us to climb a 25-foot rope to the ceiling, telling us that mastering the skill could save our lives sometime. I learned how to climb that rope. (They're no longer used, probably because of concerns for liability.)… In 10th grade, I had Miss Marilyn Jacob for English. She was about twenty-two, and it was her first teaching job, replacing the teacher on maternity leave. We weren't told, as it was taboo to tell students that a teacher was pregnant. I also had Mr. Stanley Wolf (who became chairman of the Math Department in the '70's) for geometry. He is 90 years old, and lives in New Mexico…Mr. Chancy, chair of the Music Department, conducted the orchestra, and didn't put up with any nonsense. I saw him in the Salute to Israel Parade in Manhattan in 1971 (he's since passed away). Herb Solomon, one of the physical education. teachers, was his son-in-law. As juniors, we were put on the “M” session, so we didn’t get out until late in the afternoon. I had Mr. Gleichenhaus, and then Mr. Parver for chemistry. As a senior, I had Mr. Grebanier for Honor English. He was great. (Mr. Grebanier passed away in 1977.) His class, in contrast to "regular" English, was scholarly.) Also in my senior year, as I was walking down the hallway to change classes, Mr. Schlakman, the Chairman of the English Department, grabbed me by my right arm, pulled me to the side, and asked, “Aren’t you the one I spoke to earlier?” I wasn't. Despite realizing that he'd made a mistake, he didn’t apologize; he just let me go. Mike the Cop! He was a patrolman from the 67th Precinct. One day, in 1961, he caught a Midwood student operating a motor bike without a license. I thought the student was going to “plotz.” Mike let him go with a stern warning. I last saw Mike in 1969, at a Veteran’s Day parade in Manhattan. Soupy Sales paid Midwood a visit at the Mid-Mad Stag Drag — and the girls screamed in excitement. At the Holiday Assembly of 1959, Morty Gunty also paid Midwood a visit, and referred to Mr. Chancy as “the Alfred Hitchcock of Midwood” — whatever that meant. Another event, which was very enjoyable, was the annual carnival, held in the girl's gym. There were a number of games, including bowling and penny-arcade games. Sometimes, when we climbed the stairs from the boys' gym to the locker room, the door would be locked. We would chant, "One, two, three, four — open up the #!%*ing door!" until someone on the other side heard us and opened it. The chant, minus the expletive, was worked into the senior class play of '61. When Mr. Alexander Doscow, usually a most serious man, witnessed that part, he totally cracked up. In the fall term of 1960, shortly after his first debate with Vice President Nixon, word spread that Senator Kennedy was going to speak at Dubrow’s cafeteria. I took the BMT Brighton Line to Kings Highway. By the time my train arrived, the station was packed, and it was impossible to get into the street. There were thousands of people, many screaming, “KENNEDY, KENNEDY, KENNEDY,” even though he was nowhere in sight. New York's Finest steered their motorcycles through that wall of humanity to clear a path. Finally, after freezing for at least an hour, we heard Kennedy’s motorcade approaching. Just as Kennedy’s limo came into sight, a Brighton Beach local came into the station and blocked our view! The motorman and conductor of the local wanted to see Kennedy, so the train stayed there a while. By the time it left, to my great regret, Kennedy was already inside Dubrow’s. — Nat Goldman
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We were honor students, seniors, and already accepted to good colleges. There was a major snow storm. The J bus wasn't running, so we walked about 1.5 miles to school, and arrived 15 minutes late -- the first and only lateness for all in our group in three years. We were herded into the vice principal’s office and berated for our tardiness!!! Sigma Rho Delta fraternity…Black-and-white frat sweaters. Parties in basements. Scotch and soda at New Year's. No one drank wine, except if it was Shapiro's malaga or Manischevitz. Our first stag film, “So that’s how it's done!!!” Ronny Blye from Tilden running at our really decent football team. The most exciting running back I have ever seen in the flesh. Then, him not making it in college. Wolfie’s...double onion rings (four-vessel bypass surgery 41 years later). Three New York City buses each way to Kensington before parental protests got us a school bus. No money for prom. — Fred Hirschenfang
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I remember sophomore year starting at 11:30 am and ending at about 6 pm, and heading off into the night to go home on the bus. Last class was biology (Mrs. Roslow) and I remember getting excited about finding a paramecium in the muck under the microscope. Maybe my medical career started there somehow. I remember Mr. Sayre, who taught economics and AP history, a true gentleman liberal of the old school...I remember the excitement when Kennedy was elected President...Student government, where I won some and lost some... Mr. Grebanier (Mark, I enjoyed the Shakespeare class too)…Argus, where I was sports editor, and Mrs. Mulhern not tolerating anything that appeared slipshod or trite...Parties where we (I) tried to be sophisticated, but came up pretty short. I did enjoy the slow dancing. All in all, I think we were kinder to each other than high schoolers are now, although that may be only nostalgia speaking. I went off to college thinking I might go into the foreign service, but instead went into medicine. Probably a very good decision. Harvey, I, too, remember Linda Lee all the way back to elementary school. — Nick Rummo