86th Street--The Howland Boys

...as the 1970's began to settle in...on 86th Street, a new group of kids, ascended onto the block, and basically, took it over...

Mike, John & Tommy Howland moved in back when I was about 8 years old...They lived across the street, about 3 doors down, to the right...really only a stone's throw away...

I first noticed them...as they were playing street hockey wildly, out in the middle of the block, on a wintry, cold February or March day...Who were these new guys...???

See, there was a huge influx of kids, who moved in and out, on our block, back then. I'd say I hung around as many as 10-15 kids on our block, during my early years, as bizarre as it may seem...There were the Jarrell kids, Keith & Kevin, directly across the street...the 3 Howlands a little further down, and then me...who anchored all the action, that went down, on our block...for a good portion, of the early to mid 70's...

Together, we really had an amazing amount of fun...Really, you couldn't have asked for a more memorable childhood era...than the one we had...way back then...so, long, long ago...

Whether we were riding our bikes all over the place, playing ghosts-in-the-graveyard(similar to hide-n-seek), going up to our own private, deluxe baseball diamond, at the end of our block, or playing hoops on the Howlands low-hanging basketball net, which Johhny Howland would rattle and rattle, time and again, just elevating enough, to be able to dunk, like he was Kareem Abdul-Jabbar...I could certainly go on and on...and surely, I most certainly will, too...

I can remember how we would go up to this place called "THE B" a little beyond the end of the block, where there literally was a densely, wild, wilderness area, with a giant dirt hill, that rose ever so high, it had to be the highest vantage point, within our entire neighborhood...It was quite the challenge to ride your bike up and down that giant hill, following a make-shift bike path, that transversed throughout the entire "B" area...a dirt biker's ultimate dream world...of course...

Going down that killer hill was quite treacherous, but the Howland Boys were almost giddy, repeatedly, going up and down this huge hill as quickly as possible...Those were the days of famous stunt motorcycle rider, Evil Kneival, and we sure did our absolute darn best, to make our perilous plunge, down the hill, at break-neck speed, truly a thing of breath-taking, death-defying, beauty, just somehow, finding a way, to skid to a stop, tossing up a huge cloud of dust, laughing and laughing and laughing...before wiping out at the bottom of the hill...

And, "The B" was almost always like a treasure trove, of mysterious things you would find, as you made your way through the density of bamboo shoots and tall, tall grass...We'd come across wild rabbits, old tires, broken bottles, ripped-up, rain-soaked, Playboy magazines, and every now and then, we'd hit the jackpot and come across a full can of beer or many, many cans of BEER...

See, this was back in the day when Beer Cans, still had no pop-top...You'd have to use a can opener to get it open, and get at a chance to guzzle down the suds...and since none of us ever had a can opener...we'd resort to primatave measures to get that sucker open...We'd scavenger about looking for a giant rock with a severed edge, to puncture a hole somehow, in the can. and then, after getting a small puncture hole going, we'd furiously pass around the spraying can of suds, before it all seeped quickly, into the ground...

I guess this may be the reason I always had a fondness, for heavy, bitter beers, down the road because we'd always be finding some incredibly warm cans of Schlitz or Budweiser or Meister Brau which were just lethally heavy beers, back then, that had been left to cook underneath the intense, hot-hot summer heat...It didn't matter at all, to us...We'd just guzzle them down as quickly as we could, and then resumed looking through the high weeds for more...and often, we did find more...Because alot of older teenagers hung out there, during the night...

Another great thing about "THE B" was that it was nestled up against the railroad tracks, which really isolated itself, from everywhere else...You could go up and down along the railroad tracks, throwing an endless amount of rocks, at trains passing by, sometimes coming across some neat little forts that other kids had carved out, all along the tracks, most of the time, against the security fence of the Beverly Country Club...in a bunker-of-sorts...

FORTS were HUGE back then...There was still quite a bit of building of houses near the unsettled areas by the railroad tracks...and we'd grab some big sheets of wood from construction sites, when nobody was looking and haul it down the street, out into unknown domains, where we would, work like fiends, assembling fort after fort...And we just got better and better at it...as time went by...Some of them were really, really cool...

I can remember one fort...where we dug out an enormous hole, shovel by shovel, about 6 foot deep, about 12 feet wide...in a densely, high grassy plot at about 86th & Washtenaw...Then we placed a layer of sheets of wood, on top, then placed a thick layer of dirt and grass to camaflauge our new neat, humble hideout...

Then we'd hairy-scary, ride up to the White Hen Pantry where we would stock up on all kinds of soda pop and Ho-Ho's and Taco-flavored Doritos, which had just come on the market with great results and last but not least, every conceivable kind of candy, too...Then we would quickly ride, ride, ride back like little ferocious madmen, back to our new fort and hang out there, totally oblivious from the world around us...as if it were the most coolest, coolest place on Earth...

I believe Mike Howland even tried to install a chimney on this specific fort and even tried to cook a tin of some Jiffy-Pop popcorn, in this bizarre little hole he had carved out for this ridiculous purpose...Of course...As the fire grew bigger and bigger inside this little cavernous pit, the smoke also billowed out like a gusher, sending all of us, Tommy, John and me, scrambling out of the fort, except for Mike, who was gonna stay beneath, inside there, popping that popcorn as if it was the last thing he would ever do...

He did somehow manage to get the popcorn popped, as he coughed and coughed and coughed, resurfacing almost drenched in sweat and soot, emerging from the underground fort, triumphant...but alas, the popcorn was pretty wretched looking and badly burnt...But it was considered a great, great success as we passed it around, this severely burnt, mangled, Jiffy Pop tin as each took a huge handful of this awful creation...

Also...another thing that stands out is...Our baseball games were absolutely legendary...We'd probably be up at our very own dirt and grass baseball diamond we had constructed, a block away at 10AM and play way, way, way until Sundown, sometimes...It was a crazy set up, because there was a huge security fence, situated between 1st Base and 2nd Base...up against "THE B"...which meant Right Field was closed, completely. All of us somehow eventually managed to correct our swing so that we would only hit towards left field...which may seem a little unusual, but it didn't even phase us...

I do remember I had this very light, bright, shiny red aluminum bat...because...I couldn't handle the heavier bats...and that loud, ringing ping! sound, of ripping a baseball, down the line, out into the outfield, was as good as it gets...rounding the bases so quickly, at a chaotic, stutter-step pace, trying to dementedly watch our ball all the way, as we tried hastily to scramble to 2nd or 3rd Base...

I'm pretty sure, Mike and Johnny Howland, would get a hold of one, from time to time, and just sizzle one out, far, far beyond where anyone could come close to reaching...Sometimes even hitting a window of a house residing right next to the field...but amazingly, they never, ever broke any windows...

We also used the baseball field as a football field of sorts, too, when Autumn would come about...Touch football was really huge, back then, also, and our touch football games were relentlessly paced, just kids pouring their whole heart & soul, into getting open for a pass, totally out of breath, only to realize the quarterback had been already sacked, that play...

I can remember one special time...we had the ball on the goal-line, with only one play left...Keith Jarrell who was the oldest kid, and rarely hung around with us, lined up all our receivers on the right side, except for me...Of course, the play was designed to catch the other team off-guard and throw it to me, on the opposite side...wide-open, in the end zone...It played out just as Keith had drawn up in the huddle...The guy defending me, broke loose and tried to run after the mess of people in the middle of the end zone, screaming like crazy for the ball...

Here I was, standing all alone, wide-open, as I'd ever be...Keith just stepped back and lobbed this wildly high pass my way...It surely was beyond my grasp but I kept back-peddling further and further back, into the end zone and managed to come down with the ball...as I fell backwards, onto the ground, somehow able to hold tight, clutching onto the ball, despite getting the wind knocked out of me...to win the game...

There's just so, so much ground to cover...All the good times...as we grew up and up and up and then suddenly, we all kinda, shockingly, poof, disappeared off of the block, one at a time, for good...finding new friends...our own age...basically leaving it all behind...as if it never, ever, even occurred...

But I do remember the good, good times, especially, like seeing the movie TOMMY with the Howlands, way back when, when it first came out, back around 1972...I think they even had the poster from that movie, too...And they'd also sometimes buy the latest top 40 hits, up at the Evergreen Plaza Mall, that were oddly on these little, funky 45 vinyl records you'd buy for only 45 cents...I definitely remember Tommy Howland pulling out the new, latest Paul McCartney/Wings hit, Band On The Run, playing it over and over and over...

There were so many old stories and old times to recall, whether it was walking all the way up to 95th & California in a blizzard to go snow sledding, and freezing half to death...or just laughing it up, tearing things up, in the spring or summer, on our old Schwinn bikes, with the ever-so-cool, banana seats or the latest 10-speeds...

And surely, if we did come across a nerdy kid who had one of those giant, obnoxious orange flags sticking out of the back of their bike, Johnny Howland, would make it a point, to make them feel like a fool for having such a stupid, stupid, ridiculous thing, hanging off the back of their bikes...

At times, its true, we were treacherous little slugs, but for the most part, it was mostly, all good clean fun. I think the only time, one of the neighbors would yell at us, was when we'd accidentally throw a ball of some sorts, out onto the crabby neighbors, the NIPPONS, precious front yard...They'd come out angry as hell and go completely ballistic as if our tiny, little footprints were going to completely alter the look of their nice, perfectly-manicured, grassy lawn...

86th Street, unfortunately, took a huge hit when we all did, finally go our separate ways...It had been almost like a perfectly isolated, peaceful sanctuary, amidst the far south-eastern corner of Saint Thomas More Parish in Chicago. A very, serene, hazy, dazy, Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer existence, to some extent, really just a pandora's box of adventure, we'd open, day, after day, after day...

And, believe me, we utilized every square inch, of territory, we could come across, barreling it into the ground...because we were filled with an endless amount of energy, having an endless amount of fun and creating an endless amount of good times...

All the laughter and all the screaming at each other, all the rough-housing, or just showing up at each others door, at the start of the day, and yelling for each other, to come out and play...We never, ever, used the door buzzer, back then, we'd just let loose with a loud, penetrating roar, that instantly got the others attention inside...And within seconds, you could hear the excited, rumbling footsteps making their way for the door...grabbing their baseball cap, maybe a coat, maybe a baseball mitt, whatever...It happened almost every day for me, from age 8-11, probably...They were my best friends, back then...and will always bring a chuckle to my mind...even though the years and years...have long passed us by...

So...Here's to all the Howlands, Mike, Johnny & Tommy's Mom & Dad especially, who kept their kids on the straight and narrow...coming home from a hard day's work, just to make ends meet, just to make sure, all their kids, had the best, that life could offer...Because, those times were so timeless, to all of us...and the moments we shared were very heart-warming to recall, as you can very well, imagine....Down on...86th Street...down on the South-Side...just a piece of everyday Americana...that probably would have faded from memory...into oblivion...

In summary, it does seem like such an incredibly long time ago...yet, it does remain, very vivid, very heart-warming, and very much, a long-lasting memory...of those days, from my early childhood, sadly gone by...into the night...No more "B" there, anymore...no more baseball field and no more good friends who would pass on...some of them dead...some of them alive....but surely a decent part, of Jim O'Leary's memories, I was truly, very happy to share...