I’ve lived in the same neighborhood for sixty-six of my seventy-three years on this planet. I often joke that I not only can’t get out of Shelton, I can’t even get out of this neighborhood. Here’s a little something I wrote a few years ago about my neighborhood:
For me, I am bonded to certain people because I grew up in a certain neighborhood during a certain time period in a city known as Shelton and a country known as America. It was a family neighborhood with cement sidewalks lined with enormous Maple trees.
That neighborhood began on Hill Street in Shelton, Connecticut, where two small markets – Stanley’s Quality Market and Vollaro’s Market – sat diagonally across the street from one another. The neighborhood extended to the parallel streets of Maltby Street and lower Kneen Street as well as the perpendicular avenues: Prospect, Division, and Coram.
I can name pretty much every kid that lived in that neighborhood. Starting at Hill Street above the store, there were Stanley’s children: Gail, Helene, and Andre Jankauskas; and right next to Vollaro’s Market there were Lou, Joe, and Mary Ellen Mihok. Moving north on Division Avenue, there were Maureen Menustik; Sue Jablonski; Norine and Dot Dziamba; and Jim and Ronnie Connery. To the south, Patti, John, and Marge Kafargo, and at the Division Avenue dead end, Wally and Susan Ramatowski. From the dead end on the Maltby Street side, there were Stanley and Dan Folta; Bobby and Richard Zuraw; Bill and Tom Federowicz; Betty and John Barsevich, John and Clay Larson; the Cribbins family (there were 7 kids); and my brother Edmund and me. Moving across Prospect to the north, there was Edmund’s best buddy, Nick Aconfora; Georgie Jupin (he had an older sister); Art and Dave “Mouse” Martin; Ed and Armand Grande; Tony, Frank, and Paula D’Angelo; another Martin family, Frankie and his two sisters whose names I’ve forgotten; and Craig Anderson. Going south on Prospect from Maltby – Debbie, Dave, and Wendy Keller and Bill, DeeDee, and Kevin Ahearn. A block above on Kneen, there were Billy and Dennis Bryce and right across the street, my best buddy, Jack Bouteiller. Moving down past the Good Shepherd Church on Kneen, there were Jim, Joe, and Terry Sedlock and Ned and Wayne Rydzy. Across the street from the Rydzys and the Sedlocks, there was another market – Somo’s – run by the parents of Nancy, Mary Ann, and Theresa Somo and of the Pepe twins (two sets), Sandy and Linda and Jane and Jean.
That’s well over 50 kids, and I’m probably forgetting some. Growing up, I had personal contact with most every one of these kids in one way or another. And there probably wasn’t a mother in the neighborhood who didn’t know every single one. That’s how it was back then.
These were the kids who played wiffle ball in the streets…set up corner “Kool-Aid” stands…enjoyed trick or treating (without parent chaperones)…went sledding on the small hill at Fowler School…rang doorbells and ran away…learned how to fight and how to get along…and so much more.
In a sense, the neighborhood kind of ended there. Sure, there were kids further up Hill Street above Stanley’s or further up Kneen Street on the far ends of our neighborhood. They were friends too, but not exactly part of this neighborhood. Neighborhoods have a funny way of establishing their own boundaries.
Just about everyone lived in multi-family dwellings, many with grandparents upstairs or downstairs. Everyone’s parents seemed to stay married with hardly any exceptions.
And in the midst of it all were the small markets. I have very vivid memories of standing at the candy counter at Stanley’s or Vollaro’s, trying to decide what I was going to buy with my nickels and dimes…or sliding the freezer door open, feeling a blast of frigid air, and choosing what flavor popsicle or ice cream bar I would have that day. Big decisions! Hardly a day went by when I didn’t stop by Stanley’s or Vollaro’s to buy candy or a popsicle or baseball cards…or because my mother had sent me on an errand to buy milk or butter for that night’s dinner.
I remember being perhaps seven or eight, barely able to see over the counter, and asking Stanley, time and time again, for a pack of baseball cards with Mickey Mantle in it. Each time, I was perplexed when, walking back home, I opened the pack only to find there was no Mickey Mantle card. Didn’t he hear me? I would wonder. The bubble gum inside still tasted good, though.
I have different memories of that corner of Hill Street and Division Avenue where Stanley’s sat…like a big water balloon war between our neighborhood and the kids from the neighborhood above us – one of the “boyhood” stories I would tell my daughters and my grandson when they were growing up. I threw a balloon at Pat Carey that day with such force that it kind of bounced off of him, landed in the grass, and didn’t even break. Pat then picked it up and sent it flying at me, hitting me squarely in the back and soaking me.
I also remember witnessing a fight on that corner between two older boys who weren’t really from our immediate neighborhood but just “passing through.” I recall that one was much smaller than the other, but he jumped on the bigger boy’s back and repeatedly landed vicious punches to the back and sides of his head and face. I remember being scared by the violence I witnessed outside of Stanley’s that afternoon.
Sometimes Stanley seemed a little grumpy so we would go to the neighborhood competition, just across the street, Vollaro’s Market. Old Mrs. Vollaro and her adult children working in the store, were more gentle and less intimidating than Stanley. Stanley may have had less patience in those years with us children.
Not too many years ago, Stanley told me that at one time, there were over a hundred little family businesses in the Valley. I remember a bunch in our neighborhood and the surrounding streets…like Vollaro’s and Somo’s which is where Artan’s currently resides…and Lanzi’s, which was directly across the street from St. Joseph School…and Stretchko’s which was just a block or so away from Lanzi’s…and another on upper Kneen Street…just to name a few.
But Stanley’s Market survived them all. Stanley told me he opened the place when he was 16. Hard to believe…being in business for yourself at 16. Most 16 year olds can’t tie their own shoes! He closed the store during the war and joined the military…then came home and reopened it. His brothers Lou and Joe worked for him. Lou was a nice guy who seemed to be the main butcher. Joe was a less friendly individual…a little creepy, actually…who didn’t do anything but hang out there and make deliveries. I don’t think Joe ever married.
In the early years of our marriage, we had some great pork chop dinners because Stanley allowed us to buy on credit when we didn’t have any money. He kept a record of our debt to him on a receipt that he kept in a little box, and I don’t recall him asking for it unless I went a long time without paying. That may have happened once.
When our daughter Gina was a toddler, I used to come home from school and let my wife take a nap, and Gina and I would take her hot-wheels and go over to Stanley’s (or Vollaro’s) and get a candy bar or a popsicle and then hang out at City Hall for awhile. When Mia arrived she joined in on those rendezvous.
As an adult, I found Stanley’s to be a most welcoming place. I would call it an experience. Stanley, Lou, and Gail were in no big hurry to wait on you because those who went in there expected to relax and socialize for at least fifteen minutes. And Stanley, Lou, and Gail were great at facilitating that socializing. In recent years, Stanley would talk about memories of the Valley as it used to be…or Lou Jankauskas, who used to go fishing with my dad and some other friends, would talk about their fishing expeditions. It wasn’t uncommon for Stanley to take a bottle out from under the counter and offer a customer “a drink”, especially around the holidays. Not exactly the hospitality one expects at a Stop and Shop.
In the last ten years, I stopped by Stanley’s a number of times with our grandson, Michael. Stanley and especially Gail enjoyed relating to Michael. I hope that Michael will remember Stanley’s and especially Gail!
When Stanley’s closed, it marked the end of an era…of a simpler time when our neighborhoods were bonded together by little family owned businesses like Stanley’s Market.