Carl

Hi, I'm Carl Facciponte. I grew up on Joiner Street, the long gone Joiner Street. I lived there in the late 40s right through most of the 50s. And I was about 11 years old, 10- 11 years old when we finally moved. It was a great spot to grow up in. It really was.

The days were, for me, just full of playing with the neighborhood kids. It's like any city street, neighborhood kids got together, and our favorite thing was marbles, and I'll address that later. But Joiner Street, if you look on a map, you're not gonna see it. It's gone. It ran parallel to Clinton Avenue, north of the New York Central Railroad tracks, and ran from Kelly Street to Central Ave.

Now, the only thing you'll find of Joiner Street is a driveway into a F.I.G.H.T. housing development. Which is probably a better use because the area looks a lot better, frankly.

As I said, it was a great spot for growing up. The yards were small, we're maybe 40 foot wide. I could climb on the fence that divided me from my southern neighbor and if I stand on the fence, I could reach out and actually touch his house. We were that packed in.

It was a fun, mixed area. Very culturally rich. We were one of the three white families in the area. The other one lived next door, Billy Hunter, friend of mine for quite a number of years. Danny Orwell lived two houses down, and what separated us was, for me, the magic of the entire neighborhood-it was a very narrow, very long junkyard. And we would always be playing in the junkyard among the Model A's, the Model T's, which would be worth a fortune now, but we'd be playing in there all the time until we got chased out. And we were always getting chased out. Luckily they didn't have a junkyard dog, so we were in good shape.

But the big thing in the neighborhood, was playing marbles. And that was a great integrative thing where each culture got together and we got to know each other. We got to understand each other. Once in a while, someone would bring a snack. We’d get to share foods and I had foods that weren't necessarily found in an Italian household, and they had foods that weren't necessarily found in either a Black or a Hispanic household, particularly most of the Hispanic people, Puerto Ricans, also great friends.

My biggest memories were during the summer where we would just play marbles all the time. It was what we did. We'd get up early during the summer there's that grassy strip next to the streets. Not by my house. There's no grassy strip. It was all dirt. We had worn that down to just plain old dirt. We'd draw a circle in the dirt, put our marbles in and then draw a line about 10 feet away. And we'd have to flip our marbles to it. And the one closest to the line got to shoot first. It was shot in order of how close you were to the line. It was a great time of just total pleasure, not a care in the world.

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But the thing that patterned the rest of my life is that for a while, it's gonna sound silly, but for a while growing up, I didn't even notice color differences. My friend Mooney, who lived three doors down, it took a while to realize it. We're a different color. He was about as dark as my shirt, and I was about as pale as you can get. And neither one of us cared and noticed. We'd just go, “Hey, let's go play marbles, man”. Yeah, we'd all be out there in the dirt, grubby, and just having a great time. Parents were behind us all the way. So that was fun. We had some really great neighbors.

My grandmother owned a quad. She bought it, I don't know how long ago, but she was a kid, just married. And they saved up and they bought a quad for probably $2,000 or something. Less back in those days.

Almeta

For the sake of our audience. Explaining what a quad is.

Carl

Oh, a quad? Yes, it was a house with four small apartments. Very small. We lived in the lower front 'cause she owned it. My father, who I never actually lived with, had the upper front. We had, a Polish family. on the lower rear and an Italian family in the upper rear. The thing that made it interesting was the size. I look at houses today, and if you have anything less than 2000 square feet, it's a small house.

We had a small kitchen, one bedroom, a living room and one closet. And that was it. But everybody was like that. The milkman would come every day. We had a little silver milk box on the porch. He come take out the empty bottles, put in full bottles. And it was just an idyllic, life. I don't remember any stresses from that era. Everyone got together well.

As time went on, culture started changing and my little playmates grew up a little bit, and that's when they were brought into some of the local gangs. So at the time I went to, St. Bridget's School. Yep, I was a Catholic kid back then. That was about two blocks away. And when the gangs started forming, when I got a little bit older, fourth grade-ish or so when I was eight, nine, ten-I wasn't a member of any of them, so it got a little trickier coming home, because everybody has their turf, and if you're walking on their turf, they generally didn't like that.

Well, okay, no big deal. At times it would take me over an hour to get back home, safely. And at times, we had to zigzag in between houses, hide off in bushes. -Now, none of these were the people I hung out with. But they were just neighborhood gangs. It didn't matter who you were. You were on their turf, and you needed an okay to come through, and I didn't have it.

I did learn some good lessons. Number one, it was never personal, never took it personally. It was just I was crossing their area. Second thing, I did learn to fight pretty well. And that lasted me up until my early twenties actually. So it worked out well. It worked. It was what boys go through. It was all what boys go through.

Winters were a lot of fun. Snow would be piled up on the streets, and we'd walk along the snow drifts. The snow, plowings on the side of the streets. And sometimes falling into the street, you had to be careful when doing that on Clinton Avenue. But back streets like ours, it was fine. You'd climb any snow pile you could find. That was great.

During the summer, one of the great things that happened was back in those days, We'd have fruit trucks coming through the neighborhood. And I especially loved the watermelon truck. You'd have somebody come through and some guy'd be coming through hollering, “Watermelon! Watermelon!” And my grandma would always stop them. And then the procedure started.

Almeta

Haggling?

Carl

Not haggling. The procedure started where she'd thump every melon. and insists that she get to taste two or three of them. And the guy's going, but I'm cutting my melons open. She says, well, want to sell one or not. She was a tough bargainer. So, we would be out there. Cherries were easier. You like the cherries, you don't like the cherries. beans, the truck of beans that come in, and we would buy them right off the truck. "How much? Oh, about this many. Good. That'll be. Twenty five cents," whatever it was. Everything was pretty cheap. But it was a great time watching that.

Slipping back to the winter, every once in a while, a slow truck would come down the street and, there'd be at least two or three of us, run up behind it, grab the bumper, and have them drag us. Sometimes they'd stop, and, Chase us off and threatened to call the police and I think once the police did actually come but that was a little bit more egregious but Not that we didn't deserve the call But it was just a wonderful time.

Eventually though the neighborhood was running down physically things were getting dilapidated And everyone knew when it was time to move. So with regret, my grandmother put the house up for sale. Talked to my dad, she was going to move out to her daughter's place in Churchville and live with my aunt and uncle. We had a few talks with my dad. And he finally decided, my son would be far better off moving to the country and living the country life. So, I have always thanked him for that. For his vision, because I don't know what would have happened if I would have..., I probably would have joined something or, said, “you 17 guys, yeah, come on, come on, bring it on”. I would have done something outrageously stupid.

Almeta

And I wouldn't have gotten a chance to meet you and become a friend of yours.

Carl

Yes, Yes. But, I moved to Churchville and the rest of that is kind of a history for another time. But there's always the warmest thoughts of Joiner Street. A bit of humor, when I started dating my wife. I said, hey, you want to see where I lived? And dating her was interesting because when we decided to exclusively date, it was from that point ten days later that I proposed. Accidentally, Albeit, it wasn't intentional, and that was 55 years ago. Yesterday was our anniversary. Life on Joiner was really enjoyable.

I was taking my wife to where I live. And I couldn't find the street. And so I lived here for ten, until I was ten or eleven. I, what do you mean I can't find the street? And that's when I realized, no, this much better looking housing project, really improved the neighborhood. It actually did. They just bulldozed everything and got rid of it.

Our yard was kind of unique. It was exceptionally deep. Most houses had a house on the face of the adjoining street, and so you'd split the difference and that was your yard. There was a big factory building, And so we abutted right up to their walls. They didn't use the entire thing. We had lawn on half of it, rest of it let go to weeds. For a young explorer, exploring the jungles of Africa or the Amazon, there were more adventures that went on in that area, more digging, more looking for relics, just me and the neighborhood kids.

I know my grandmother got nervous when she saw us with shovels. She knew it was going to happen. I promised to fill them all in, and I occasionally did fill them in. Never found anything, but that never stopped us. We were sharing hearts, we were sharing imaginations. We were sharing our time together, and that was really the important part. So it was a pretty good experience.

Almeta

That's one of your biggest memories, is the sharing?

Carl

Yes, the sharing is the biggest memory. It was a tight, fun community, right up until we left. I did bring the only existing thing left. No, you didn't. This is my original bag of marbles. I saved them. Like any astute financial wizard, which I wasn't back then, you would play with some and save a couple out. And eventually I got to this bag.

I used to think these were the most beautiful things in the world. Some of them are good Looking, those are the ones I didn't play with. And others are just chipped masses. We had marbles of every variety. Some of these I played with more, some I didn't. Very fancy ones I really loved and didn't play with much. They were just in case I lost everything else, and I had to throw them into the pot.

Almeta

Carl, what do they call the big one? They're about this big? The huge ones.

Carl

Aggies. I think I've got one in there. It's so dark in there, I can't see.

Yeah, like that. And this one, it's all chipped and scarred. You can tell that baby's been used a lot.

Almeta

It won you many a battle.

Carl

It won me many a battle. We had rules. You couldn't use those all the time. There's special games where you could use them.

Almeta

Could you do the hand span? Where you put your finger and you switch your hand and then you could shoot from there rather than where the marble was. Oh Lord. Bringing back memories.

Carl

You might be able to, but I don't know if you would survive with our group of marblers. They were serious as marble players.

Almeta

Oh, okay. Well I was from Buffalo, so, We did things a little bit differently.

Carl

Oh, well. Okay. You had the sauce rules, but we had different shooting styles. You could do the old time like that, they flick it off your finger. You can shoot like that from the ground, or you could raise your wrist and do an aerial bombardment.

But it was all a lot of fun. It was a great time in a neighborhood that no longer exists. I almost am inclined to say sadly. But I think termites would have gotten it by now. So it really did improve the area. But, the street is gone, but the memories of the people that live there will live on for generations.

I did a small biography, little bits and pieces and memories, and one of them was Joiner Street. And so as long as the book is on the shelf, and there's family around to read some of my dribblings, Joiner Street will be remembered.

Almeta

And what you may not know is that we're filming it here, where I live, on the west side. Your interview, your story, is going to be on a mosaic tile in Quamina Park. Right across the street from where you grew up.

Carl

That's pretty cool. Visits and photos, forthcoming. Very good.

…

So this is the original string from the draw bag. It wore off, and it's no longer a draw bag. But now I just cinch it up. It's one package. It's the only bit of my, youth that I have left. Even my little plastic monkey with the little pipe cleaner arms and legs. I played with that until it dissolved. Even that's gone, but I do have the string from my marble bag.

Katie

Where did you originally get the bag?

Carl

You know, that's unknown. I think my grandmother came up with it. I have no clues to where the bag actually came from. She was a, seamstress for Hickey Freeman Suits. She may have either made it, or it was inventory, or was extra junk. No idea.

Almeta

Well, thank you, Grandma.

Carl

Yes, thank you, Grandma. I definitely didn't make it.

We've moved several times since. I've been married. We've moved all around the country. The Marbles didn't always follow me, but they were always put someplace where they'd be there when I got back.