Sitting On The Stoop:

"Dixon Mills", Luxury Apartments! It was shocking enough to hear that the pencil factory where my mom worked as a teenager had been converted to luxury apartments back in the 80's, but when I read Donald Trump was building two high rise condominiums in downtown Jersey City, I decided it was time to go see my old neighborhood and visit the stoop where I sat as a child and dreamed of becoming a Major League baseball player. As I approached 3rd and Monmouth Streets, I could see people sitting on the stoop of the building next to my childhood home, 427-1/2 Monmouth Street. It was as if time stood still as I sat down on the stoop and talked about the old days with my neighbors from the 50's. I started to remember everything like it was yesterday. I felt like I had traveled back in a time machine.

Growing Up In Jersey City:

I was born in Jersey City at the Margaret Hague Medical Center Hospital in 1950. I lived on Brunswick Street in a cold water flat with a coal burning stove. The bathroom was in the hallway and shared by other families. After a few years my parents moved to Monmouth Street next to an alley between Forth and Fifth Streets. When I was five years old, I accidentally hung myself on a barb-wire fence in the alley. I hung from my neck for one hour before somebody noticed me. If the hook hadn’t grabbed on to my sweater first, I wouldn't be here to write this. I still have a scar under my chin where the hook entered my neck. My dad "Duke" was in the Coast Guard during the war so in my early years I became a member of The American Military Cadets. Our Ship, "The Lazy Log", was an old barge we painted battleship gray docked near "Snake Hill" in Secaucus. I still have the brass buckle my dad made for my first sailor uniform. He split a bullet in half and then welded both sides into the shape of a cross on the face of the buckle. When I was five he built a Go Cart made with a lawn mower engine, welded stainless steel frame, axles and a sheet metal hood painted black and red with flames on the sides. On weekends we would drive around at his brother's galvanizing plant in the Marion section of Jersey City. I worked as a shoe shine boy in the local bars Two Buddies and The Barge Inn. They served free dinner to the local regulars and I would meet my dad at Two Buddies when he came home from work. I attended High School in Jersey City on a basketball and baseball scholarship. I also played football in the Pop Warner and Al Blozis leagues. My childhood hero was Mickey Mantle . Growing up in downtown Jersey City was a real life West Side Story. If you crossed over to the south side of Newark Avenue, you were in "Shark" territory and you better be able to defend yourself. This is where I learned how to box and stand up to bullies and thugs.

During my High School years, I worked construction - building houses in the summers with Duke and his best friend Fred Aprich who owned a construction company in Jersey City. This is how I learned the first thing insurance companies do to avoid a payout on a claim is check if the work has been properly permitted by the Building Department. During holiday vacations, I worked "loading trucks" for the post office at the downtown Jersey City distribution off ice near the Holland Tunnel. In those days, if you wanted to work at the "PO", you were required to do a "special favor" for the person responsible for hiring "temps". I also worked for UPS in Secaucus feeding the multi colored carousel they used for sorting boxes by zip code.

Tony Kane's Sweet Shop:

After school hours, I worked at my uncle Tony Kane's Sweet Shop on 2nd St. I ran errands, made egg creams and swept the floor. My uncle was a "bookie" and ran his book-making operation from his candy store. Walking into Tony Kane's was like watching the first 5 minutes of the movie Goodfellas. I became family friends with the locals, "Lefty", "Risty", "Fingers", "DK", "Lucky", "Patsy", "Newsboy Moriarity", and "John Senzagulo" (English translation: "no ass John"). They called me "Michelle Scopadore" (English translation: "Michael the sweeper"). "Lefty" gave me a three thousand dollar "tip" once to buy my first car, a '66 GTO, because I drove down to Freehold Race Track and placed a ten thousand dollar bet for them on a horse that won. In the early 60’s the police found $2.5 million in the trunk of a car registered to "Newsboy's" girlfriend. The word on the street "downtown" told a different story. There was really $6 million in the trunk and the cops on the scene split the other $3.5 but this has never been confirmed.

My uncle sold Raleigh "looseys" cigarettes in his store for a nickel each. He sold Raleigh's so he could save the coupons. One day as I was sweeping the floor, detectives raided Tony Kane's. The first detective walked behind the counter and headed towards the back room kitchen. My aunt grabbed the "number" money. As she ran back to the kitchen, I could see her stashing the money in her bra. My uncle didn't notice a second detective and handed me the "bet sheet" he hid in a magazine right below the counter where customers ate and enjoyed my aunt's famous "Pasta Fagioli". The second detective handcuffed my uncle and pulled the bet sheet from my hands. They arrested Tony Kane but let my aunt go because they didn't see her hide the money. A short time later, I was sent to the police station to pick up my uncle. When I walked into the back room of the police station, my uncle was playing Pinnacle with the detectives. As we walked out of the station my uncle explained the reason for the raid. He said; "it was a misunderstanding"” I thought the raid was strange because the "Head Bookie" always tipped off my uncle ahead of time whenever there was going to be a raid. I found out later, this was no ordinary raid. It was an Italian revenge thing, arranged by my mother and her bookie friend because she had been quarreling with my aunt. It was what the old school Sicilian's call "la vendetta."

The Honeymooners:

My aunt and uncle shared the same apartment above "Renzuli's Bicycle Shop" on Newark Avenue but they lived separate lives. People would say the reason they ate at Tony Kane's wasn't because of my aunt's great food; it was to watch my aunt and uncle argue all day. My aunt worked at her sister-in-law's restaurant "The Tripoli" on weekends. She was the waitress and cook who created the secret recipe for their famous Italian Cheese Cake. My aunt was the "Gomare" of a local politician. This explained how a "bookie's wife" became one of the organizers of the Jersey City Columbus Day Parade and managed to get her picture on the front page of the Jersey Journal every year. Years later, as the story goes, the politician died in bed with a prostitute in a fleabag motel on Route 3. The word around "downtown" was the police carried his body out of the motel and took it to a more respectable place to protect his reputation. My uncle's life was surrounded with Go-Go dancers from "The Pussy Cat Lounge" in Union City. He was arrested once when one of the dancers borrowed his gun and shot someone. In those days, Tony Kane's was equivalent to the pork store in "The Sorpranos" and "The Pussy Cat Lounge" was like the "Badda Bing" from the same show.

Garment District Cafones:

Some "wise guys" from downtown Jersey City made their living solely by "taking numbers" and selling "swag" clothing stolen "off the truck" from, who they described as, "garment district cafones" (English translation: low-life, slime-ball, pond-scum). Years later, Tony Kane's became the Village Café. This is where the FBI uncovered the plot to kill John Gotti by the wise-guys who were renting my uncle's store.

The "Duke" Of Second Street:

My dad Duke was a machinist, master mechanic, tool inventor and sketch artist. He had a pigeon coop and on weekends we had pigeon races with our neighbors. I still have the sculpture he made from two pieces of carved stainless steel, bent and welded into the shape of his favorite pigeon . He played the guitar, harmonica and loved Country Western Music, Mario Lanza and Enrico Caruso. He enjoyed his last years riding a tractor around his farm in South Jersey doing the things he loved to do. Duke was wonderful person and a stand-up guy. I miss him dearly.

My Work Life:

I attended College in Miami, Jersey City, New York City, and Long Island. One of my biggest regrets, next to being unsuccessful in restoring my good name and reputation with the Galaxy residents, is that I never graduated from College, but neither did Bill Gates. While attending Miami-Dade Junior College, I worked as a "pool boy" in a Hotel on the beach. Mrs. Hoover, of Hoover Vacuum Cleaners, gave me a $50 tip once for bringing her a bucket of ice and someone gave me a $100 tip for assisting a senior gentleman with one leg while he took a shower. Every afternoon my boss would give me a yellow envelope to deliver to a man at a restaurant on the 79th Street Causeway. I found out later that he was a "bookie" and that I had been delivering his "bet sheets" for the numbers and horse bets he took from the rich businessmen at the Hotel. After spending two years in Miami, I returned to Jersey City and worked for one year at a Veteran's Mental Hospital mopping floors and one year as a clothes pattern tracer for McCall's Magazine until I saved enough money to go back to school. I was introduced to the world of computers in 1973 when I took a course at a school called CPU – short for Central Processing Unit - in New York City. While attending Jersey City State College at night and working as a street peddler during the day in New York, I convinced a man who had purchased one of my belts, into hiring me as a trainee in the computer room he managed for a firm on Wall Street. My first job was feeding stock purchase confirmation forms into a computer printer. Soon after, I learned the Assembler (BAL) programming language at NYU, and later, Microfocus-Cobol and Cobol II. Today, I am an IBM trained REXX-ISPF Developer and Scheduler. I specialize in Panel Driven Automation Software and Conversions. In the mid 1990’s I formed a software consulting company. In my 32-year career as a Mainframe IT Professional and Consultant, I have created Software Applications for some of the largest Brokerage firms, Banks and Communications Companies in the United States. My continued employment as a contractor and employee with Banks, Brokerage firms and Communications Companies retained by many Federal and State agencies depends, not only on my abilities, but also more importantly on my good name and reputation. If and when I can prove that I lost a contract due to the unwarranted defamatory postings placed on the Internet about me, the irresponsible "thugs" and Board supporting "henchmen" who posted them will suffer the consequences. They will be judged, and judged harshly.

Life In New York City:

In the early 1990’s I lived in Greenwich Village. At night I would explore the streets of New York with my childhood best friend Paul , a Federal Agent. At one time in his career, Paul was an undercover agent and has used my last name in some of his cases. Paul is a gun and rifle collector and we would take apart and clean his weapons in his room on Read Street when we were in high school. We would have mock battles and dreams of joining the Marines and fighting together in Vietnam. My father, grand father, and great grand father were military men. Paul and I took the Path train to Newark together to have our physicals taken in the early ‘70’s but our dream didn't come true. Paul became a Marine but was stationed in the Philippines and I flunked the physical. The only war relics we have are the four Bose 901 speakers Paul purchased inexpensively in the Philippines. When Paul returned he gave me two of the 901’s and I still use them today. I was never afraid to walk around New York late at night because Paul was always armed with at least two weapons . One night I went out alone. I was mugged and robbed by a street gang. I should have just handed over my money, but the "Jersey City" in me would not allow it. It took three major reconstructive operations by Dr. Carroll "Cap" Lessene to put my face back together. I have been described as an "old man with a bad haircut" by one of the Board's friends in an anonymous hate-filled letter sent to the Galaxy residents. I admit to being old but the reason for my unfashionable long hair is to cover-up and distract attention away from the many scars on my face and head.

How I Met Martha :

My life turned for the worse after that incident. I was alone, depressed and heartbroken. Then one day a miracle happened. On a whim suggested by a friend, I called the "telephone personals". After listening to over 100 messages, I heard a voice and knew I had met my soul mate. We arranged to meet at Bloomingdale's in Manhattan. Somehow we got confused and I stood on 58th Street and Martha waited on 59th Street. After waiting over an hour, because it was January and very cold we both went home. It took three months before we gave it another try. This time I drove to the Bronx and we met on a corner in the Castle Hill section under the "L". We drove to Manhattan and had dinner at Mickey Mantle's Place on Central Park South and later took this picture in a booth in an arcade at Times Square. Martha captured our dinner in this Picasso inspired drawing . We have been together ever since. I wrote this poem in her honor and presented it to Martha on our first Christmas as a gift for saving my life.

The Gift

I was left for dead on a village street
My body was frozen from my head to my feet
They took all my money and pulled off my ring
I was walking down Greenwich and don’t remember a thing
I woke up in St. Vincent's hospital bed
I looked around and thought maybe I’m dead
My nose was broken and my face was all cut
My body was bruised from my neck to my gut
I know why God saved me that cold Christmas night
So he could give me my Martha and the gift of life

The Dead-Beat:

Six months after we met, I discovered Martha's ex-husband had not been paying child support for his three children. He owed in excess of $25,000. I hired a private investigator who located this "dead-beat" in one day. He was living a few miles away from his children, gainfully employed. It was easy for the PI's to locate his employment because he is an oil burner repairman, trained by Martha's farther. They left messages at oil burner repair shops in the Bronx with an 800 number for him to call and claim the money he "won". The "dead-beat" called from his apartment the same evening. The number had a traceable device that identified his exact location. He was living rent-free and received a salary as "super" of the building. He was using a phony social security number and name to hide his income. As an oil burner mechanic he was making over $100,000 per year. The Court system couldn't find him because his employer was protecting this "dead-beat" by not declaring his income. My Attorney arranged for a warrant to be issued for his arrest. When this "dead-beat" claimed he didn't have any money, the Judge had him hand-cuffed and sent to the Bronx House of Detention. After one week in jail with "Bubba", he wasn't as broke as he claimed. He paid the $25,000 and was never late again on any support payments. He continued to pay until the children were in their early 20's. He learned these valuable lessons: "Everything" can be traced. Sooner or later you will be caught and brought to justice. If you can't do the "time", don't do the crime. And most important, if you ever do anything that I feel is not in Martha’s or her children's best interest, you will suffer the consequences and be forced to "look over your shoulder" for me, for the rest of your life.

My Dream To Live In The Galaxy:

While living in Jersey City in the late 70’s in “The House that Frank Hague built” on Kennedy Blvd. and Duncan Avenue, I would often ride to Callahan's in Fort Lee. I have been going there since I was a small child with my Dad on the way to Palisades Amusement Park. I watched the Galaxy rise while driving along Blvd. East on the way to Callahan's . I made a wish back then that one day I would live in this fantastic building, The Galaxy. I had a few great years during Y2K. I had a contract during the day at a telephone company in New York. Then I drove 30 miles to my night contract at a local brokerage firm. I worked over 100 hours on some weeks because I was “on call” and had to wear a beeper. My body still reacts to a beeper sound even when I hear it coming from the TV. At that time I was living in a rent controlled apartment paying less than $500 a month. This is how I made my dream come true. I worked very hard in those years. In 2002 I had earned enough to buy a fabulous apartment with a terrace overlooking the Manhattan skyline in the Galaxy. This didn’t come easy and I was determined to protect my investment. But little did I know what was in store for me when I moved to the Galaxy!

Coming Next: Why this website was created!