Clifton Merchant Magazine - August 2011

REMEMBERING CAMP CLIFTON

Lakeview Memories Jack De Vries

Back to Woodstock Carol Leonard

Being Ukrainian Tom Hawryko

Misfit Mutts • One More Once • Other Music News

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Clifton Merchant Magazine is published the first Friday of every month at 1288 Main Ave., Downtown Clifton • 973-253-4400

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

FROM the EDITOR

Summer Reader

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ugust is a perfect time to sit back and relax so we’ve put together a team of writers who have provided some easy reading and many fun photos that we expect you’ll enjoy.

Our cover story on Camp Clifton is a team effort, with three former campers—Julie Dominick, Joe Crivelli and Colleen Kennedy—who collected memories and recollections of the now defunct green retreat in Jefferson Township. Their stories spans some three decades of tales—but the photos alone will take you back.

Veteran columnist Jack De Vries presents an excerpt from a book he is working on about life at the midpoint of his journey, age 50. His tale begins on Trenton Ave. in the Lakeview section during the Kennedy years.

Adeline De Vries (jack’s mom!) shares recollections about her love of America’s pastime, baseball, and the early days of TV and how it was introduced to Clifton.

We have another story from Christopher deVinck’s book Moments of Grace: Days of a Faith Filled Dreamer.

While his essay begins on page 20, look for more about Chris and how to purchase his 13th book on page 72.

It’s road trip time as Carol Leonard takes you upstate to Woodstock as she tracked down a group of Mustangs who made that trip to the concert in August, 1969.

Joseph Hawrylko has pulled together a section of stories on local musicians, telling about their origins and plans for growing a fan base.

And to mark the 20th anniversary of Ukraine’s Independence on August 24, I have taken the liberty of writing an essay on my church community. While the story is focused on one culture, I hope readers will find it reflective of their own American experience and the pride they have in their unique origins.

Tom Hawrylko

On Our Cover A 1970 circa photo from Camp Clifton serves as the backdrop. On the right of the page, from the top... yes that bold Kathy DeLuca seems to be smoking a cigarette! Center, three young campers from the mid-1970s. Bottom, they look like Clifton’s Bowery Boys and they are, from left, Bob DaGiau, Don Grillo, Casey Lasiek and Jeff Spina.

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Editor & Publisher Tom Hawrylko Business Manager Cheryl Hawrylko Graphic Designer Michael Strong Staff Writer Joe Hawrylko Contributing Writers Irene Jarosewich, Carol Leonard, Rich DeLotto, Don Lotz, Jack DeVries

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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Correction: On page 25 of our July edition, the headline for the Class of 1961 intro reads ‘Last Class in ‘Old’ School’. Josephine Kimberley wrote to let us know the Class of 1962 was actually the last group of students to graduate high school at what is now Christopher Columbus Middle School on Piaget Ave.

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I want to say thank you for that wonderful piece you wrote about me in the July edition. It is so nice to be remembered after all the years. My friends and neighbors have all called me to say congratulations—perhaps because I have lived so long! So again, thank you and please know that I appreciate your kind attention. Good luck and God bless!

My wife, Helen, and I, read with interest your July issue and it brought back fond memories of Clifton High School. I graduated on June 1941 and soon after enlisted with the Navy, ultimately served in the Pacific aboard the USS Cimarron, AO22, earning seven Battle Stars before being discharged in April 1946. While on leave from the service in 1944, I married my girlfriend, CHS ‘42 graduate Helen Zachack. It was really great to see JoAnn Morici’s story and her recollections of Clifton High. I’m sure JoAnn would remember both Helen and I—both Helen (86) and myself (87) remember her fondly. Jo Ann was the live wire of the 1941 June Class and judging by her story, she still has that strength.

Jo Ann Morici CHS 1941

Kenneth A. DeGhetto, PH.D Livingston, NJ

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

Gary Smith, CHS 1971.

Write to us at Clifton Merchant Magazine 1288 Main Ave. Clifton 07011 tomhawrylko@optonline.net

LETTERS to the EDITOR Great job, I’m flabbergasted. All of these classmates, they suddenly became lifelike and that edition brought back many happy memories. I was amazed to see my picture in there with a nice write up. I really appreciate it a lot and just wanted to say thank you. I admire how you got so much information and photographs, not only on my class but all the others.

Leroy Constatine was my best friend and while he died young he had an illustrious life. Joan Kuzmich was a beautiful girl in the most strict sense of the word, and she became Miss NYC. Judge Ciolino was our class president and went on to an illustrious career.

And Joe Padula, does he still hang around City Hall? He was lively when he was a kid too. I could almost taste the Hot Grill from that photo.

So many good memories. Golly, everything just came alive. People walked right off the page.

One correction: I grew up in the Delawanna section not Botany.

One of my team mates from there was Joe Trombino who was killed in the World Trade Center in 9/11.

Father Anthony Russo CHS 1951

I was excited to see myself featured in your July publication. I am presently and for the last decade the Senior Director of Recruiting at Jennifer Temps, a staffing agency in New York City. I live in Passaic, and I am active in my parish, Mt. Pilgrim Baptist Church, and also volunteer at Madonna Funeral Home in Passaic, comforting the bereaved.

Gary Smith CHS 1971

I loved your look back at the classes from CHS in the July edition. I

lived upstair from actor Stefan Kalinka (CHS 1981) on Campbell Ave. and I always told him to go California. And I went to school with Joe Padula. My husband was Whitey Milmark, he was the best fast ball softball pitcher in the men’s league. Years later, in the 1980’s, I volunteered as a team mom for the Fighting Mustangs, even though we had no children. We were in the Booster Club, made them lunch and helped out. Then to my surprise, I received a trophy from the team. I used to go to every game with a little megaphone I had from my high school years. Even though we didn’t have kids, I loved Mustang football.

Jean Mirabella Milmark CHS 1948

Where are these

MUSTANGS

That was an excellent article on CHS ‘71 graduate Cindy Czesak.

She is now the Director of the Paterson Public Library, where I am the Library Board President. I was one that stole her from Clifton and I’m so glad we did! She’s doing an excellent job and has accomplished so much. Thanks again Clifton for raising such a good person.

PLUS A LOOK BACK AT 1941!

Florence Bottler Paterson

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Classes Start September 1.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

LETTERS to the EDITOR May’s magazine connected two old Marines, irrespective of the fact that one died on a Viet Nam battlefield in 1968.

“George McClelland was my best friend growing up in Hell’s Kitchen. We managed to avoid most of the trouble and joined the Marines together,” recalled Gary Besmer, who is now 70 and a retired NYC Police Officer.

“Georgie wanted to go to the Navy. I got him to go with me to the Marine recruiter and they promised we’d be together through the service. We were young and dumb enough to believe that BS.” The two made it through Parris Island boot camp together but in 1960 shipped out in different directions. It was the last time the two boys would see each other.

Around that time, their families moved to the suburbs. The McClelland clan settled first in

Passaic and then purchased a home on Second St. in Clifton. “I often wondered what happened to Georgie but it was hard back then to track down people,” said Besmer.

On Feb. 25, 1968, McClelland, a Staff Sergent with the 26th Infantry Regiment, was among two squads ordered to go out on patrol beyond the fire base to search for enemy mortar.

The patrol ran into an ambush, taking on intense small arms and mortar fire. A second patrol sent to help also came under a barrage of fire. When the shooting was over, there were 47 casualties: 21 wounded and 25 missing in action.

Clifton’s George McClelland was listed as among the 25 MIAs. McClelland's body wasn’t recov-

ered until May 8, 1968, at which time he was officially listed as Killed In Action.

Around the year 2000, Besmer made a bucket list and in it was his old pal, pictured here.

“George came out of the Marines but couldn't find a job and went back in and became a drill instructor," explained Besmer, who also connected with McClelland’s son. “I also met with his sister who lives in Toms River and she gave me the article from your magazine.”

Former Cliftonite George McClelland is buried in a Paterson cemetery. “I told his son I was going to pay my respects to his dad...”

No doubt he will, but USMC Staff Sergent McClelland also lives on in monuments in Passaic, Clifton and in his old buddy’s heart.

In Super Dave’s Memory...

On August 25, 2006 our son David Nicholas Porter lost the 14 month battle to Wilms’ Tumor. David may have lost the battle, but his warm smile, energetic personality and his will to live will last forever.

Since then, The David Nicholas Foundation was created to help support the children and their families that are fighting the battle against cancer.

This year’s 5th Annual David’s Day was on July 9 and we wanted to say thanks for opening your hearts and your kind generosity. Funds raised go to support Daniel, a 7 year old boy, who lives in Denville.

To find out more or to make a donation, go to www.thedavidnicholasfoundation.org.

Once again, thank you.

The Porter Clan August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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Summer Reading

T

GROWING UP IN

CLIFTON

By Jack De Vries

This is a chapter from an upcoming memoir by Jack De Vries, which describes his life in Clifton as a young boy. De Vries lived at 204 Trenton Ave. in the Lakeview section of town, a place never far from his thoughts. The book also examines DeVries’ lifelong love of sports, fatherhood and other topics at the halftime point of life, age 50.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

his is how I drove my mother crazy. In 1961 at the age of four, I decided I didn’t belong in Clifton, my beloved hometown, but rather on the Broken Wheel Ranch out West.

I discovered this through the magic of the black and white Zenith TV in our living room where each week I’d watch another episode of Fury, a show about a magnificent black stallion.

Fury was owned by a heroic cowboy named Jim and his son, Joey Newton. If there was a mom, I don’t remember her, which was fine with me. Joey and his dad had ranching to do and didn’t need a mom telling them to pick up stuff or wash up.

I was obsessed with Fury, Jim and, most of all, Joey. What a life – about a million times better than mine in dumb old Clifton.

I dreamed of going to live on the Broken Wheel and riding Fury, but I knew there was no chance of that happening. The farthest my family ever went was the Bergen Mall in Paramus, Two Guys in Totowa or Downtown Paterson. Since these hot spots were all within 10 miles, it was obvious I’d never ride a bustin’ bronco in Big Sky Country.

So… if I couldn’t join Joey, I’d move him to Clifton and become Joey.

I concocted this wild fantasy about Joey coming to visit his rela-

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tives back East in the too noisy, too busy city of Clifton. When Joey arrived, I assumed his identity and became him. Of course, my father became Joey’s dad, Jim. In the days before 24-hour cable TV news and the Internet, when parents were blissfully unaware of roaming armies of child predators, kids played outside. Today, parents (me included) will not let their children past the front door without a surgically implanted tracking device and CIA drone to watch over them. But in the sixties, kids had graduated boundaries.

At age three, I was confined to the backyard. Age four, I had the run of the block in front of my house – the wild plains of macadam along Trenton Ave. between East 2nd and East 3rd Streets. By age five, I was man enough to roam the entire block – past the squirrelhunting frenzy taking place at the neighboring Stickleburgers’ house, moving by the crazy Italian lady’s home on the back end of the block, and a quick step from the Stewart’s house and their yappy dog Tippy.

Later, I learned the Stewarts weren’t fond of parishioners of St. Brendan’s and loved how Tippy scared the heck out of the little Catholic kid with the blonde crewcut. Joey Newton had bears and Indians; I had a crazy black and white mutt who’d often get loose.

Joey hit town on a beautiful

My next-door neighbor Ted Breure in his prime, wrestling as The Golden Boy.

April day, wearing his cowboy hat and boots that were bought, as I imagined, at the general store (but really purchased at Two Guys). On my hip were six-shooters, a pair of silver beauties with no orange cap at the ends to let cops know they were fakes. They were tucked into

my gleaming black Lone Ranger holsters that I’d gotten for Christmas.

A cowpoke like me was soon bored in these here surroundings.

With nothing to do, I headed to the front of the Breures’ house, our next door neighbors, and sat August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

11

Here’s my dad, Jack Sr., in 1966, wearing the Clark Kent glasses and working on the “133,” a massive testing machine used by his company Bendix and the U.S. Military to keep us safe from the Soviets.

on the small boulder along the sidewalk. I imagined it was lifted there

by Mr. Breure, the pro wrestler who lived next door.

While my alter ego of Joey was imagined, Ted Breure was not. He wrestled under the name the “Golden Boy” (for his blond hair that covered his body and created a yellow carpet on his chest). He spent April through September sunning himself in his backyard and downing six-packs of Miller High Life. A lion in winter, he didn’t wrestle much then but owned a bar in Passaic called, of course, the Golden Boy. Every year, Mr. Breure would treat the neighbors to an annual stink-off as he’d lavish his tomato plants with manure. For a week, Trenton Ave. would smell like horse dung with everyone’s windows shut to keep out the stink. No one ever complained. Even with the stink wafting around him, Mr. Breure would lay in his chaise lounge, blissfully downing bottles 12

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

of Miller and reading the newspaper.

My father would grumble, but that was about it. He’d also grumble when Mr. Breure’s son Ted Jr., who was bigger than his father, would drop barbells in his basement late at night and scare the hell out of my parents.

The Breure’s boulder was an ideal seat for Joey to observe the big city… which I was doing when “the lady” happened by.

She was dressed in a long coat and hat, and wore gloves. She was probably headed to Crooks Ave. to visit Sidney the druggist on the corner who always shook like he was saying “no” when you talked to him. Sidney later pumped two bullets into a would-be robber so I guess his hands didn’t shake.

Being a respectful country boy, I said howdy as she walked by. The lady stopped, smiled, and said, looking up at the Golden Boy’s house, “Hello, little boy. Do you live here?”

“Nope, ma’am,” I said channeling Joey and saying ma’am just like he did. “I live in Montana.”

“Montana?” she asked, raising a plucked eyebrow. “That’s a long way from here.”

“That’s right, ma’am,” I said unleashing my inner Joey. “I’m visitin’ my relatives back East.

They live in that house over there.”

I pointed to my house next to the Breure’s – a coffee-colored fake brick colonial with number 204 on the front. Inside, my mother’s psychic radar went off and she began moving from the kitchen to the front porch. “That’s nice,” the lady answered, not sure whether to believe me.

“Name’s Joey Newton, ma’am,” I said with full TV drawl. “And I live on the Broken Wheel Ranch with my dad, Jim. And I’m going back there real soon cause there’s a lot of work to do with the horses.”

“Is that so?” she said, her plucked eyebrows at full arch.

“Yes’sim,” I said, believing it myself.

Seeing the strange lady talking with me, my mom came out on the front steps to see what her little Clifton cowpoke was up to. Spying my mother, the lady hurried over to tell her everything I said. As I fixed a pair of steely green eyes over the pastoral plains of Trenton Ave., ending with the fence that kept people driving onto the Garden State Parkway, I heard my mom saying, “He did?” and “He said what?” before beginning to giggle.

Joey Newton had far more important things to do than listen to womenfolk chattering. I had to keep my eyes on the horizon for stray coyotes that might be sneaking up to get the chickens.

There was one time when my Joey adventures nearly gave my grandmother a heart attack. I was downstairs watching cartoons one Saturday morning when the phone rang. My parents were upstairs sleeping in.

“Hello, this Joey Newton,” I answered.

My grandmother, who had five other small grandchildren at the time, didn’t pay any attention to my introduction. My phone voice probably sounded like one of the cartoon Chipmunks, and Grammy was in no mood for games.

“Jackie,” Grammy said, “put your mother on the phone.”

“Can’t,” I answered. “She’s upstairs in bed with Jim.” Grammy probably dropped the phone and the other three old ladies listening in knew they’d struck gossip gold. This was in the era of the “party line,” when homes shared

one phone line with three other customers. My mother was forever complaining about the line being tied up or one of the old biddies eavesdropping.

After that call, I got a lecture about being honest and respectful on the phone. It didn’t matter too much to me – Joey was about to leave my life for good as I was assuming a new persona: the “Man of Steel.” I spent the next few years as Superman, protecting my block from criminals with a white dishtowel cape flowing over my shoulders and back.

Unlike the kids from the fifties, my knowledge of the Man of Steel came not from comic books but from the TV show, Superman, starring the tragic George Reeves.

This made Superman more real – something nearly every adult told me he wasn’t.

An urban legend said that a kid,

believing he had Superman’s powers, jumped out a window and flew to his death. There was also a story that Reeves met his untimely end not by a gunshot, but because he went crackers, believing he really was Superman and going for the big air dive.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

13

Conversations often went like this: Adult: “Who are you?

Me: “Superman.”

Adult: “You know he’s not real, don’t ya? Don’t jump out any windows.”

Me: “I won’t (secretly hoping Superman was real and hadn’t shown up yet).

Making it more possible that Superman could be real was that my father bore an uncanny resemblance to Clark Kent, complete with thick black glasses and Brylcreem-shining hair. Not that I ever confused the old man for Superman – that was a stretch for even my fertile imagination. But it proved superheroes looked just like regular people. Who was anybody to say Superman wasn’t waiting for the right time to show up?

It wouldn’t have been the first time a larger than life personality had come to my hometown. JFK stopped there while campaigning for president. Yogi Berra and Phil Rizzuto of the New York Yankees owned a bowling ally in Clifton. And Babe Ruth was known to tip a few at Donohue’s, a gin mill near the Clifton border in Garfield.

My family lived in the Lakeview section, an older area of Clifton that was a sea of asphalt, filled with homes, candy stores and dotted with backyards. Our home, built around 1910, featured a fake brick exterior, an old blonde woman who haunted the upstairs (and once scared the pee out of me by asking if I was hungry), and an attic where we could see the Fourth of July fireworks show at Clifton School Stadium above the maple trees.

The house, as my dad often reminded us, was held together with “spit and plasterboard.”

Behind the house was our postage-size backyard where we crammed a cheap above-ground pool, swing set, garden (far smaller than the Golden Boy’s), a tool

A backyard birthday party in 1965, fresh out of the pool From left is my brother Bill, Tom Carrola, my mom Adeline, Don Miller, me and Paul Nydam; my brother Chris stands in the center.

shed and a “torture area” – a diagonal plot of grass where my little brother Billy and I threw grounders at each other at light speed.

Living on the opposite side of our house was the Harris family – an elderly mother, daughter Millie, and her brother Wilbur, who belonged on a farm. Wilbur doted in his small brown dog named Sandy that he adopted from the Hounds of Hell Kennels. Sandy was a mean little bitch, a vicious walking piranha.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

1814 1814

Next to them were the Stickelburgers, a retired fire chief, his wife and their adult son, a bachelor who “didn’t want to share his money,” as his mother whispered.

Father and son’s weekends centered on the Yankees on the radio, Rheingold beer, and BB guns to pick off the squirrels they said were always about to invade our attics. Each of them, both named Adolph, owned showroom-looking Ford Mustangs.

Tragically, the family died together – the parents after wrecking their ’65 white Mustang while racing to the hospital following an ambulance carrying young Adolph, who suffered a fatal heart attack.

Across the street was old Mr. Bailey, another intrepid squirrel hunter; the Vogts, who owned a pristine black 1940s-era gangster car; the three unmarried Farrell sis-

In our backyard, after First Holy Communion, 1965, in St. Brendan’s Church. That’s mom, dad and me.

ters; and John and Betty, a happy 50-ish couple who were living in sin, a fact kept from me by my ever-vigilant, Mass-going mother. That left me as the only kid around until my brother Billy arrived when I was four.

In the sixties, Clifton was a city coming into its own – complete with a new high school, low taxes, plenty of businesses, and more unsolved murders than Dodge City. Crisscrossed by highways and the Passaic River, it was an ideal spot to dump bodies.

The Clifton of my youth was a magical place, full of sidewalks pushed up by mature tree roots, summer nights of lightening bugs and deafening crickets, and a feeling that even better times were ahead. Kennedy said we were going to the moon. John’s candy store was only a block away. And a kid like me could sit on his front steps and wait for Joe the super market manager to ride past in a long white convertible with a blond next to him.

Without a scrap of lust in my young heart, I knew back then Joe was a man to admire.

In my world, there were baseball cards on the back of cereal boxes, creamed corn for dinner and comic books (on special occasions) for sale at the candy store (with real bookmakers in the back), just four blocks away. There was also Sinatra on my mom’s kitchen radio and at least four different girls I could see myself marrying someday.

Finally, there was my father in the next room doing his homework at night and keeping the old lady ghost away. He’d struggle with engineering problems from his night school classes at Fairleigh Dickinson, looking to ultimately get his degree and lift his family out of this old house, the one I loved so much. I’d lay there in my bed, safe and secure, with my whole life before me.

It was home.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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Summer Reading

T

his past September, at the Ukrainian church’s picnic, a tough friend of mine, we call him ‘Big Daddy’, was talking about his then 15 year old son.

“He went upstate this summer and didn’t want to come home," Roman Diduch said of his fourth child, his only boy.

The two are pictured at right.

Little Roman was up in the Catskills at a Ukrainian sports and culture camp. “Five weeks up in CYM. He grew man... stretched out. He has girlfriends now! And then I look at his neck. He’s got a silver chain with a big Tryzub hanging there! He came back a real Ukie. His grandfather must be smiling,” Big Daddy said.

He was so proud of little Roman who now wears the Trident coat of arms from Ukraine.

Three generations of pride and heritage and community explained in a short statement: “A real Ukie.”

Like many others in our city, I am proud of where I come from, of my heritage and my religion.

I love that when I go to Ukrainian Church I bless myself three times and chant prayers that my ancestors did decades ago, perhaps hundreds of years earlier.

I laugh that when I eat solena at a picnic in my hometown of Perth Amboy or at the church in Passaic, or in the center of Kyiv like I did during the Orange Revolution back in 2004, it is the same delicacy other Kozaks like me washed down with vodka generations before.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

ON BEING PROUD OF OUR

HERITAGE

By Tom Hawrylko

My heritage, which intertwines with my religion, is a great emotional well at my soul, a deep and familiar place to be. And that people like me and “Big Daddy” can share this with other Ukies from all across the globe—that they know the same prayers and rituals and eat the same foods, and share so many connections—that is a gift.

While I did not meet my grandfather John and do not much recall my dad Joe, when I go to most any Ukrainian church, and when I am around my hromada— my community—I see “Dido” and “Tato.” I connect with them and “Babcia” and “Mama,” and all my aunts and uncles, because we come from the same “tribe.”

I simply look around the church or on the picnic grounds and see my family in my new neighbors.

There is my Babcia in the lined and etched visage of the old ladies, reciting the Hail Mary as part of the Rosary in a quiet but boldly painted church.

I see my mama Julie sitting on her bed, looking out the Ashley St. window, reading from her prayer book. That’s my brother John— ”Yonko”—walking to the school stage so proudly in his embroidered shirt, ready to dance the Hopak.

And there is my beautiful sister Elaine, perhaps 16, at the center of the May crowning of our beloved Blessed Virgin Mary, looking angelic, even sacred.

These days, I am a church elder, alone and above in the choir, where often I am a Diak, a cantor, who leads the responses to the priest during Divine Liturgy.

From the loft, I sing and watch new generations of my brothers and sisters, toting along their families, wearing their Sunday best as they

walk in and modestly kneel before the icon of Volodymyr, petitioning he and our saints, and asking the Blessed Virgin for protection or forgiveness.

I hear them shssing their young as they enter the pews, innately teaching them the rules of being Ukrainian Catholic, just as their parents did in Ykraina and my parents did during my youth in our Perth Amboy “ghetto”.

I love the fact that little Sister Yosephata taught me for eight years at the Ukrainian Assumption School and decades later she instructed my kids in preparing for their first Holy Communion—and that just this past Sunday I saw her and we greeted each other as peers.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

17

That’s Tom Hawrylko, third from the right rear, at an Altar Boy retreat back in 1969.

While I can sing in Ukrainian I do not speak the language but I love the fact that while at times we cannot understand one another, there is this unspoken nod of trust between me and many of my new brethren who do not speak English so well.

Newcomers like Ihor, Myron and Jaroslaw, as well as guys like Yonko, Big Daddy and me begin with a certain amount of trust just because we are Ukies.

Perhaps that's because we have drunk from the same well and we are pilgrims on a shared journey. To me, being Ukrainian makes the world a smaller and friendlier place. It gives me knowledge of where I come from. It is a place where I am always welcomed to return to, and it is a community where I still discover new things. And to have a place where you belong is a good and comfortable feeling.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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HAVING SURGERY? You are not alone. Every day at our center, dozens of your friends and neighbors have surgery. Most operations are not emergencies and are considered elective surgery.

The physicians at Clifton Surgery Center want you to learn about your operation and we also want you to be active in your health care. From procedures, to anesthesia to recuperation and your follow up, even issues regarding insurances and payment—don’t be afraid to ask questions!

OUR DOCTORS WELCOME QUESTIONS That means having a conversation. If you do not understand the answers, ask the doctor to explain them clearly. Bring a friend or relative along to help you with your questions and answers. We believe that patients who are well informed about their treatment are more satisfied with the results.

If you are facing surgery that is not an emergency, we want to help you and your family understand more about your surgery. Your doctor or nurse also can help you understand what is being done and why.

HOW LONG WILL RECOVERY BE? Our staff can tell you how you might feel and what you will be able to do—or not do— after surgery. Knowing what to expect can help you get better faster. How long it will be before you can go back to work or exercise again? Follow your surgeon’s advice to make sure you recover fully as soon as possible.

WHY CLIFTON SURGERY CENTER? Just last year, the Accreditation Association for Ambulatory Health Care (AAAHC/ Accreditation Association) distinguished Clifton Surgery Center for providing a safe work environment and the highest quality of care to its patients. AAAHC accreditation is recognized as a symbol of quality by thirdparty payers, medical organizations, liability insurance companies, state and federal agencies and most importantly, you—our patients— neighbors and health care professionals. Status as an accredited organization means Clifton Surgery Center has met nationally recognized standards for the provision of quality health care. It is a story we are proud to share.

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Podiatry August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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Summer Reading

D

oes anyone remember the way things used to be: when the artist Norman Rockwell sketched boys rushing off to fish; when you could pick up hitchhikers; when gas-station attendants wore white shirts and ties and gave away glasses with each full tank of gas?

Remember how we could go off to the woods, swimming hole, or train tracks, and pretend that we were Daniel Boone, Olympic stars, or hoboes, and rush home in the late afternoon for a glass of Kool-Aid? Remember when the Cracker Jack box had great prizes: alligator clickers, charms, jumping tin frogs?

There was once a thing called the Good Humor truck. Every child born before 1960 remembers the sound the door made closing after the ice-cream man reached in and pulled out a chocolate eclair or a Fudgsicle.

It is easy to dismiss our “modern” world and roll ourselves in a security blanket of nostalgia, pointing to better times when people were more polite and less afraid.

Don’t believe everything you read in the newspaper or see on television. The accumulation of evidence about the state of the world is not neatly packaged and printed on paper, or projected on flat screens that illuminate our faces and lull us into a near-hypnotic trance of delusion and disgust. Goodness is not news. Compassion is not news.

The triumph of our daily routines accrues no hero’s welcome.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

KINDNESS & COURTESY

ON THE ROAD

By Christopher de Vinck

I was reminded of the grace of goodness that most of us have within ourselves while driving home with my mother and Roe from our annual two-week vacation in Canada. (My father didn’t come with us that year.)

Just before mile marker 175 on Route 81 south, just twenty miles from Watertown, New York, my car developed engine trouble. The alternator light popped on.

The check-engine light blinked frantically. The temperature gauge swung to the right, smack into the heart of the “hot” indicator. There was a gross, mechanical noise whining and clanking under the hood.

I quickly pulled into a U-turn road built for police and maintenance crews, pushed the gearshift into park, shut off the engine, opened the hood, and felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz stuck in the middle of a poppy field ready to call out for help. Glinda the Good Witch didn’t appear, but within four minutes, a New York state trooper pulled off the northbound lane of the highway, drove down the small U-turn road and stopped before us. I wanted to shout hooray! It was as though Roy Rogers or Zorro had come to my rescue.

He was a young man: dark hair, crew cut, sunglasses, smart uniform. He stepped out of his cruiser and, with

great politeness and concern, asked if we were okay. I explained that my wife was on the cell phone with AAA, and that my mother was in the car doing fine.

The policeman was concerned about my mother and spoke with AAA himself, and once he was assured that the tow truck was coming, he said “I’ll swing by again in a few minutes just to make sure that you are okay and on your way.” It was obvious that this man had a human interest in us and that he was not just “doing a job.” He drove away and waved. I waved too.

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Before the tow truck arrived, a park ranger stopped, asking if we needed help; a Good Samaritan in a van also stopped and asked if we needed a ride; and then the tow truck and its driver appeared.

This man was blond, well built, tall, confident. “Right there is your trouble,” he said, as he pointed to two belts that looked like shredded snakes trapped within the guts of the engine. “It could be that the alternator seized and caused the belt to snap. Whatever happened, the one belt cut into the other and your fan stopped spinning, which caused your radiator to overheat.”

I leaned over the engine, pretending I was as wise as Merlin when it came to auto mechanics, and said, “What do we do?”

Ten minutes later, Roe, my mother, our dog, and I were in a tow truck, riding to Watertown with our van behind us like a broken hippopotamus.

The tow truck driver spoke about his wife and children, about his work with the Special Olympics. I thanked him for his helping us. He said again and again, “I know what it is like to be stranded and people don’t help you out.” He was concerned about my mother, drove us to the Ramada Inn in Watertown first, so my mother would not be upset and she could settle in. Then he drove me and my car to the Mazda dealer in Watertown.

The mechanic, his name was Lou, seemed right from central casting. He looked like Nicholas Cage and was as kind and helpful as St. Christopher. “Could be the alternator, or just the belts. I can get you going by tomorrow morning.” As we talked, we spoke about our lives a bit, about our children and jobs.

Who are we as people? The state trooper’s immediate arrival and his kindness? The tow truck

driver’s demeanor and grace? (We exchanged addresses and I sent him one of my books.) The mechanic who shook my hand warmly when I was about to drive out of the parking lot with my repaired automobile? Even the woman behind the desk at the Ramada Inn was concerned about our plight, rearranged some rooms, agreed right away to take the dog, even though there were “no pet” signs prominently displayed. “We’ll make you as comfortable as possible.”

Remember the old Saturday Evening Post magazine? Norman Rockwell, with his talent, could have illustrated the cover of this week’s issue with a group portrait: a policeman, a tow truck operator, a mechanic, a Good Samaritan, and a hotel clerk, and he would have given us, with his brushes and paint, just the right angles, just the right texture, just the right colors and light to depict America.

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Summer Reading

M

LEARNING ABOUT AMERICA’S

PASTIME

By Adeline DeVries

ost people learn about baseball in their backyards or a sandlot. I discovered the game on a street corner.

My dad, Joseph DeLiberto, Sr., was a bus driver for Public Service and avid baseball fan. Raised in New York City, he had attended many baseball games at the Polo Grounds and Yankee Stadium.

His hero was Babe Ruth, and I grew up hearing about “The Bambino’s” exploits. In fact, many said that my dad bore a strong resemblance to his hero.

As the youngest child in the family, I loved playing with my dolls, but after hearing about “The Babe,” I soon began sharing my Dad’s enthusiasm… though I couldn’t fully understand why this man was such a hero.

During World War II, many mothers went to work in defense plants. My mom Vincenza was no exception. After leaving a hot meal on the stove for her family, she left for work at Western Electric in Passaic to work the 3 to 11 pm shift.

That left Dad in charge.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

23

Te

vision. No longer did we have to go to a street corner to We always had lots of fun with my dad, playing cards watch a ballgame, but saw it the comfort of our own and other games. We also did our homework, but he was home. We had a Dumont mahogany console a great baby-sitter. with doors and a 12-inch television screen.

Then something new came on the It even had a pullout drawer with a turntable scene… television! for records. What luxury! Dad was thrilled On Hilton St. and Main Ave., one block and Mom was happy… her family was off from our house, stood the Federal Appliance the street corner. We had one of the first telStore with its fantastic TVs glowing through evision sets on Barkley Ave. the storefront window. No more radio Years have passed but my love of basebroadcasts of baseball games for us! ball that began on that Downtown corner has Each night, Dad carried our lawn chairs grown. Like Dad, I gained my own baseball and snacks to the corners of Main and heroes, like Joe DiMaggio, Tommy Hilton. We joined escalating crowds and cheered our team on. It was here, on a street Adeline DeVries today Heinrich, Johnny Lindell, Yogi Berra, and and a file photo taken my favorite, Bobby Brown, who later corner with traffic passing by, that I learned at the old Boys Club became a doctor. I passed this love of the about the game of baseball and became a in Botany when the kids game to my four sons who are all baseball true fan. But my mom was mortified – her got their first TV. fans. family was hanging-out on a street corner!

And it all started on a busy corner in Clifton.

Mom saved and saved until she bought our own tele-

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AT WOODSTOCK 3 Days of Peace & Music become a Lifetime of Tales

By Carol Leonard

f

At the Woodstock campsite, from left: Tom Graziano, Tony Lulling, George Goldey, Tom Scudilla, Helmut (Paul) Paukovits.

F

orty-two years ago this month, eight music-loving high school buddies from Clifton decided to take a three-hour road trip up to a remote location in the small rural community of Bethel, New York, to hear some of their favorite rock bands and folk singers perform.

Little did the boys know when they set out on their journey that they would become part of a cultural phenomenon and the largest music festival of its kind in American history, better known as Woodstock.

Included in the group were CHS Class of 1968 graduates Tom Graziano, Paul (Helmut) Paukovits, Ed Pskowski and John Torregrossa, as well as George Goldey, Tony Lulling, Bob Marinaro and Tom Scudilla from the Class of ’70.

Goldey, Graziano, Paukovits, Scudilla and Torregrossa all grew up together in the Albion Park neighborhood.

Lulling and Marinaro were from the Richfield section and had known each other since fourth grade, and Pskowski lived on Valley Rd. near Montclair State.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

25

Eventually, the guys all ended up at Clifton High School and, in part, their devotion to the popular music scene brought them together as friends.

They often went into New York City to see their favorite groups perform at the now defunct Fillmore East Theater in the East Village, where tickets at the time ranged from $2.50 to $4.50. For that meager price, concertgoers could see and hear some of the day’s hottest performers, including Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, the Allman Brothers and John Lennon.

Goldey recalled that they first learned about the Woodstock Festival in an announcement published in an alternative newspaper. “They were billing it as a weekend of peace and music, but we didn’t know much else about it,” he said. “It seemed like it was only semi-organized.”

“When we heard about it, we discussed going,”

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Pskowski said. “Some of us thought we really didn’t need to get tickets, but John (Torregrossa) insisted that we buy them. I think we ended up getting them someplace at the Bergen Mall. We paid $18 for the three days.

Can you imagine what they would have cost today?”

Originally planned as a two-day weekend rock concert for about 50,000 people, the Woodstock Festival was expanded to a three-day event, from Friday, Aug. 15, to Sunday, Aug. 18, 1969. In fact, it actually ran into a fourth day, Monday, Aug. 19, as performers continued to entertain what turned out to be a crowd of upwards of 500,000 people who descended upon and around the 600-acre dairy farm where it was held.

Not knowing in advance the enormity of what they were to experience that weekend, the Clifton boys packed two cars, Terregrossa’s ’64 Chevy and Scudilla’s father’s Oldsmobile, with tents and sleeping bags, but not much else.

“We just thought it was going to be a camping trip and we were going to listen to some good music,” Goldey said. Pskowski had to work at his part-time job on Thursday night when the others guys wanted to leave, so he planned to go up separately on his Triumph motorcycle and meet them up there.

“I left early Friday morning and it started to rain like crazy,” he said. “It was storming and I was getting soaking wet, so I turned around and went back home. There I was sitting all alone at 3 a.m. thinking that I wasn’t going to get to Woodstock and all of a sudden I saw John’s car pull up. They got half way up and realized that I would never make it in the rain, so they came back to get me. I knew then that they were really good friends.”

As they rode north up the New York Thruway and saw all the traffic starting to build, the guys began to think that the Woodstock Festival was going to be much larger than they ever expected.

After getting off the thruway, Marinaro remembers sitting in traffic on a two lane road and watching cars riding on the shoulder. “We had our eight-track speakers hanging out the window and the music blasting the whole time,” he said.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

When they finally got to the Woodstock area, the guys realized how unorganized the event would be. “There was no real designated camp site,” Goldey said. “It was very random. People just began setting up camp in vacant hayfields.”

The Clifton boys pitched their tents about a half-mile away from the music stage on a Little League baseball field. By then at least 50,000 other people had done the same, with many, many more to come over the weekend as word of the event continued to spread.

“When we saw all the traffic heading up there, we knew it was going to be a lot bigger than we thought,” Goldey said. “As soon as we arrived and saw all the hordes of people already there we thought, holy s**t.”

Torregrossa added, “We never imagined that there was going to be a half-million people there. It hit all of us by surprise.”

At that point the guys realized how unprepared they were. “We didn’t have enough food or supplies,” Pskowski said. “We walked for miles to get to a store.”

Pskowski chuckled when he recalled that he bought a gallon jug of wine and carried it back the long distance to the campsite only to drop and break it along the way. And then there was the rain, lots of it, starting again late Friday night and continuing off and on throughout the event, creating a sea of mud as people sloshed through the wet grounds.

“I wasn’t much of a camper so, when the rain started coming through the tent, I went and slept in my car,” Torregrossa said.

Food and water was in short supply and there were very long lines to use the few restroom facilities that were available. But, despite the uncomfortable conditions, the guys all agreed that incredible performances by such notable groups as The Grateful Dead, The Who, Credence Clearwater Revival and Blood, Sweat and Tears, along with folk-rock legends Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, John Sebastian and 25 other groups and singers made it all worth while.

“When Ritchie Havens came out on stage to open the show, there was this huge burst of energy,” Pskowski said. Even with the crowd as large as it was, the Clifton boys were able to make their way very close to the stage for many of the performances.

“I can vividly remember being right up front watching Joe Cocker,” Terregrossa said. “Me in my tie-dyed shirt with a plastic bag over my head to protect me from the rain.”

John Terry Terregrossa and George Goldey.

One of Marinaro’s favorite memories was seeing Sly and the Family Stone. “It was about two or three in the morning and everyone was wiped out,” he said. “When Sly walked out and started singing, I Want to Take You Higher, everyone woke up. He got everybody standing and he brought the crowd out of their stupor. Then he told everyone to light a match. It was unbelievable to see.”

Pskowski recalled that on Saturday night many people started lighting bonfires. “I remember looking around and you could see about 20 or 30 or them,” he said. “There were helicopters flying over head. It was incredible.”

The next day, on Sunday, Pskowski remembers laying on the ground listening to one of the performers when someone stepped over him. “I looked up and realized it was one of my friends, Paul Guilfoyle, from Lehigh University where I was going to college,” he said.

“Everyone was so exhausted at the time so when we ran into each other again two months later at school we both asked, did I see you at Woodstock?” Today, Guilfoyle plays Detective Jim Brass on the hit TV series, CSI. The setting of the stage in the middle of an open field created a perfect natural amphitheater, and the music resonated far beyond the immediate area. The guys remember being able to hear it even while sitting at their campsite.

Aside from getting a chance to see and hear some of their favorite rock and folk music stars, Clifton’s Woodstock boys got to meet a variety of other music-loving hippies, peaceniks and just plain fellow suburban kids like themselves, many of whom traveled from all over the country to take part in the event.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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In their CHS yearbooks, from left; Edward Pskowski, Helmut Paukovits, Tom Graziano and John Terry Torregrossa.

“Some of these people came from a completely different reality than us, real Haight-Ashbury types,” Goldey said, referring to a district in San Francisco that was a haven the counter culture scene during the 1960s.

“Heck, my father still made me get haircuts at the time.”

As reported in the press and written about extensively in later historical accounts of Woodstock, the guys acknowledged witnessing a good amount of pot smoking and other drug usage at the event as well as sexual acts freely taking place out in the open.

“I have to admit that I saw some things that I had never seen before in public and probably shouldn’t have seen,” Graziano said. In spite of all that, the group never felt threatened or concerned for their safety.

“It was a very gentle crowd,” Goldey said. “There was never a nasty edge to it at all. It was all very peaceful.” Marinaro described it as “a live and let live atmosphere that will never be duplicated.”

“Don’t worry,” Lulling added, “we didn’t take the brown acid, so we were fine.”

Meanwhile, back at home, the boys’ family members and friends anxiously awaited their return and hoped that they were safe and sound. Without cell phones, the internet and other technological advances of today’s modern life and the lack of phone booths (remember those, Baby Boomers?) in the area, there was no communication from the group while they were away.

Their families relied on accounts of the event that they read in daily

newspapers and from network TV news reports (believe it or not, you 20-and-30-somethings, there was no cable TV as we know it today back then).

“The local impact was hilarious,” Goldey said. “All of our parents thought we were going away to a sizeable folk/rock festival but when we got home, it was like VE Day or something. Apparently the astounding size of this phenomenon caught the whole world – and Clifton – off guard. All of our parents and neighbors were waiting for our return as if we’d been on the first space flight.”

The boys arrived back home late Sunday night, without a hitch, and had many interesting stories to tell.

Marinaro even made it to the first practice of the new CHS football season the next morning.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

f

f

From left; Robert Marinaro, Thomas Scudilla, George Goldey and Anthony Lulling

Life after Woodstock returned to normal and the guys went on to college and careers, marriages, some divorces and parenthood.

Goldey and Marinaro moved to Santa Barbara, California, together in 1973, where Goldey enrolled at the University of California’s Santa Barbara campus. He worked as a talent agent/manager and publicist in Hollywood for most of his career, then later for the RAND Corporation. He is semi-retired now

and lives in Brentwood, California, with his wife, Karen, and their grown daughter.

Marinaro later moved north to complete his bachelor’s degree at UC Berkeley and went on for a master’s degree in cartography from the University of Wisconsin. He worked for the US Geological Service for 26 years. He lives in Palo Alto, California, with his wife, Debbie, and their 16 year-old daughter.

Pskowski has been living in

Honolulu, Hawaii, since 1974. After serving in the Peace Corps in the Marshall Islands, he stayed on as a planning officer for design and construction projects, and later earned a master’s degree in urban regional planning from the University of Hawaii. Currently, he works as a project manager, supervising projects all over the Pacific Islands, Asia and Hawaii, and travels 150,000 miles a year. He has three daughters and six grandchildren.

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From l

Torregrossa attended Florida Atlantic University and has made his career in the music industry, starting out as a DJ. He later sold musical instruments and sound equipment, and today serves as national sales manager for a division of Numark Industries. He lives in Fort Lauderdale with his wife, Tracey, and their Great Dane.

Lulling attended college in Pittsburgh, and completed his degree at FDU. He enjoyed a 25year career in pharmaceutical marketing and advertising at Hoffman LaRoche, and lived in Upper Montclair with his now ex-wife and now grown son and daughter. After retiring in 2003, he moved to SantaFe, New Mexico, where he owns a bar, the Tin Star Saloon.

Graziano received his bachelor’s degree from William Paterson College and a master’s in physiology from FDU, while working in research for Schering-Plough. He went on to graduate from the Illinois School of Podiatric Medicine in Chicago and has been in practice in Clifton as foot and ankle surgeon since 1983. Four years ago, he also completed the requirements for his medical doctor degree from the University of Health Sciences. He lives in Ramsey and has a grown son who is the administrator in his

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

Some of the Woodstock crew in 2009, Ed Pskowski, Robert Marinaro, George Goldey, John Terry Torregrossa and Tony Lulling.

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Scudilla went to Robert Morris College in Pennsylvania before completing his degree at Montclair State. He also had a 25-year career at Hoffman LaRoche as a cost accountant, and later worked as an accountant for a perfume packaging company. He is the only member of the group who still lives in Clifton with his wife, Ingrid, and has two grown sons.

Paukovits was unreachable for comment, but several of the others reported that he resides in Garfield.

Over the years, the eight friends have kept in touch and visited each other from time to time. Lulling has held several reunions at his Sante Fe home that a number of them have

attended. Several of the guys also have Facebook pages, where they keep each other up to date on their lives and share memories of their time together as Clifton boys as well as their unforgettable weekend at Woodstock.

Marinaro, who was the group’s unofficial photographer, has a slew of photos from Woodstock on his Facebook page (listed under Robert Marinaro), all shot with his Kodak Instamatic film camera (that’s right, 20-and 30-somethings, there were no digital cameras back then, either).

He also recently helped a start-up firm develop an i-Pad application on Woodstock, a project that he said helped him relive the experience one more time.

ONE MORE ONCE The Alchemy of a Big Band on the Rise

By Joe Hawrylko

W

ith 19 musicians in the wheelhouse, armed with many years of professional playing experience, One More Once has the ability to produce a wide range of catchy big band and jazz tunes. But harnessing all of that talent and producing quality music is not as simple as heading to the studio and belting out some sonds. There is a definite sense of chemistry between members, a bond that exists beyond the many shows and rehearsals. This is the driving force behind One More Once, allowing coleaders Joe Verderese and Timothy Hayward to craft harmonious jazz and big band tunes from a mish mash of horns, guitars, percussion and vocal sounds.

“These are who we thought can handle it and who we like as people. That’s a big part of music—not who can

play, but who you get along with,” explained Verderese.

“The better you get along, the better music you make.

Tim and I are always hanging out, getting stuff together. Glen and Ryan and I get wings at Sharky’s.”

That element was how Verderse, a 1999 CHS alum, selected musicians from a deep talent pool around New Jersey when he first started to lay the foundation for One More Once sometimes in 2008. Naturally, his search led him to a familiar place: Old friends and fellow former Marching Mustangs.

The Showband of the Northeast is well represented in the group. Mustang alum include, Glen Levitsch, CHS 2001, Ryan Krewer, CHS 1997, Joe’s cousin Luis Imparato, CHS 2002, Shane Zwievel, CHS 1987, and Joe’s sister, Karen, a CHS 1996 alum.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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big ard e’s on ned ub, ta meone

“That group of people, most of us have played together in the past,” said Verderese, who also played trombone while in the Marching Mustangs.

“Throughout high school and then we had a big band similar to this in high school. Some of us played professionally in other groups in the area and around New Jersey. It’s basically a band of Clifton people that I knew and guys from MSU that John Molloy (a former band member) knew.”

Since 2008, the line up has been altered drastically as Verderse auditioned many musicians. Only nine of the original 19 remain with the band.

“We underwent a major face lift. We matured, became a bit older band,” said Verderese. “It’s great, really helpful. We’ve got such a diversity of not only musical styles, but personalities. These guys have been playing everywhere with some pretty famous acts.

They’ve done so many things—they bring a knowledge of music. You’re playing with guys who have played big band music since the 70s.”

But it was the addition of co-leader Timothy Hayward, a professional musician who relocated to Clifton from Paris, that helped solidify the line up and the direction of the band after joining on a permanent basis when he moved to the United States in 2010.

The connection between Hayward, Verderese and the band goes back several years prior, when they had bonded after being introduced by a mutual friend and fellow musician, Bob Ferrel.

“He is a really great trombone player, one of the Duke Elingtons of trombone players, and he was Joe’s teacher,” explained Hayward, 28. “Bob introduced me to Joe and first well all hung out as friends, but music became involved pretty quickly.”

Verderese, a music teacher in Cresskill, first worked with Hayward after hiring him to perform at school functions. However, the native of France, whose training includes degrees from Conservatoire Supérieur de Paris and the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique et de Danse de Paris, is also an accomplished music composer, and began supplying One More Once with original scores to perform.

At the time, Hayward was a part timer in America, coming over for a few weeks at a time to work some gigs in the NYC area. In 2009, Verderese contacted Hayward about filling in last second for a member at a concert to benefit the Wounded Warriors project.

“That was my first gig with the band and I loved it 34

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

right away of course, and he definitely felt it too,” he explained. Hayward was already contemplating a move to the US because his gigging schedule was becoming more busy, and the invitation from Verderese to join the band as a co-leader in 2010 simplified the decision.

“We have a great relationship, a great friendship,” explained Hayward. “We have the same way of working, if I can put it this way. We are devoted towards the band, towards the music. We have the same values in terms of what music we love. It was just logical.”

Between the two co-leaders and the other band members, who often play with each other in local acts such as Chris Opperman, The Infernos and more, there are many different genres that influence the overall sound of One More Once.

“It’s a heavy influence of a few big band leaders: Buddy Rich, Maynard Ferguson, that type of stuff.

There’s some new vibe stuff too, like the Gordon Goodwin Big Phat Band,” explained Verderese. “We can play at a jazz club, play at a park or if we need to, play at a wedding, for either a bunch of 20 somethings or 90 somethings and everyone will be happy.”

“Playing with all those different groups, I take pieces of what I like from each band, pieces what I like from leader ship and put it all together to create my own style,” he continued. “Leading a group of professionals is different than leading a group of kids.”

During the school year, Verderese’s students and have the opportunity to perform alongside their teacher at Trumpet’s Jazz Club in Montclair, where One More Once has had a regular gig since last year. The union between students and teachers creates a unique learning experience, and an excellent marketing opportunity.

“We have a high school band open for us and the kids play from 7:30 to 8 pm,” said Verderese. his band’s show includes classic and original scores, with some swing music tunes as well as slower dinner songs.

“Then we’ll go on and play some heavy ensemble stuff, sprinkled with some awesome solos so the kids can hear what can be done. We take a break then come back for our second set, which is largely based on improvising solos and spreading it out.”

Most importantly, Verderese believes that students will understand that it is possible to do something that you love, with people you love, and still make a living.

“We’ve gotten the comment many times that it looks like we’re having a lot of fun,” laughed Verderese.

CHRIS OPPERMAN Giving Classical Music a Modern Edge

By Tania Jachens

C

hris Opperman (CHS Class of 1996) is so committed to creating music that he began his own record label, Purple Cow Records in 1998, when he was only 19. “My parents thought I was crazy,” Opperman said, laughing, “but I was driven to do it and I didn’t want to lose any time or opportunities.”

Now at 32, Opperman has just released his fifth studio album, “The Lionheart,” an instrumental album that combines modern classical music with elements of rock, alternative, and jazz. “I don’t see distinctions between genres. This album is very diverse and a kind of musical journey,” he explained.

While growing up in Clifton, Opperman began taking piano lessons as a present for his eighth birthday and the rest is history.

In elementary school, he began to play the trumpet in the band under the direction of Tom Charsky. “If there was a band or choir, I was part of it,” Opperman said. “I took lots of music classes, practiced during my lunch periods, and stayed late after school for rehearsals.”

As part of the Mustang Marching Band under the direction of Bob Morgan, Opperman enjoyed the great sense of camaraderie. “I was friends with people not only in my section and I have so many good memories from being part of

the band,” he said “I liked being able to play really loud all the time.” While he was clearly passionate about music, Opperman did not become interested in the actual composing process until his junior year after hearing the music of legendary composer, singer-songwriter, and guitarist Frank Zappa.

“He’s so crazily into music,” Opperman said about Zappa. “He put out seventy-five albums in twenty-five years and never once repeated himself as a guitarist. I would have loved to have performed with him.” While the Cliftonite will never get to play with Zappa—he died in 1993— Opperman will perform with an ensemble at the Frank Zappa festival (Zappanale) on Aug. 19-21in Bad Doberan, Germany.

But before he performed there, he'll finish a score entitled “Lollipops & Roses” for the Clifton Community

Band, which he is doing at the request of the conductor and his mentor, Bob Morgan.

After starting Purple Cow Records in 1998, named after his affinity for wearing purple and drawing stick-figure cows in high school, Opperman put together a fifteen piece band to record his first record, “Oppy Music, Vol. I: Purple, Crayon,” which became a popular favorite on local college radio stations. After graduating from Boston’s Berklee College of Music, Opperman moved to Los Angeles and in 2001 released his second album titled “Klavierstucke,” a piano-solo album which caught the attention of Steve Vai, a Grammy Awardwinning rock musician and composer.

Vai hired Opperman to orchestrate several compositions, including “For the Love of God,” August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

35

the video of which has over seven million views on YouTube.

Opperman also played piano for Vai on two songs, “Lotus Feet” in 2006 and “The Attitude Song” in 2008, both of which were nominated for the Best Rock Instrumental Performance Grammy in their respective years.

Opperman looks back fondly on the experience. “I learned a lot because he’s so detailed and intense. He’s so good that it might as well be magic,” he said. “He practices a ton, so when he plays it seems so natural and easy. He’s very demanding but he wanted to work with me, so it was very rewarding.” Opperman lived in Amsterdam, Holland for two months while working with Vai, and cities it as one of his favorite cities to visit.

After releasing two more albums, including 2004’s collection of duets called “Concepts of Nonlinear Time” and 2005’s live album called “Beyond the Foggy Highway,” Opperman considers his new album, “The Lionheart,” to be a “full out studio rock band album.” Named after “what it takes to survive in the music industry,” this album presents Opperman’s first major original work for a full orchestra plus a rock ensemble.

This song, called “The Porpentine,” is an ambitious multimovement opus that took Opperman one year to write and three years to actually record.

“With this song, I set the bar so high and it took every ounce of my energy to write and fundraise for it,” Opperman explained. After composing it, Opperman recorded computerized sounds and then 36

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

slowly replaced them with a total of fifty live instruments. “For every hour I spent working on the album, I spent one and a half on ‘The Porpentine’,” Opperman said. “The entire album was a daunting task, but I was satisfied as long as by the end of each day a little bit more was done and I was that much closer to my final

goal.”

As a comp o s e r , Opperman considers himself to be more open-minded than most other composers because “I don’t feel like I have to classify myself. Any composer is going to take what they hear and make something of it.

Some turn up their noses if you use guitars and drums because that’s considered pop,” Opperman explained. “I grew up in the 90’s, so I can’t pretend that Nirvana and The Beatles don’t exist.”

Previously quoted saying, “if Beethoven were alive today, he would be pushing the envelope with his musicians, utilizing the latest technology, and embracing

many styles of music to create his own inimitable sound,” Opperman thinks this division explains why it is difficult for younger generations to gain an interest in classical music. “You

have to make it relevant by making comparisons between classical music and contemporary music rather than just disparaging all modern music.”

Besides Zappa, Opperman has been influenced by the rock band Sonic Youth, along with classical composers and pianists Prokofiev and Bartok. However, he said that he is not so keen on many new musicians. “There is a difference between an entertainer and a musician,” he said. “However, there are a lot of rock bands who are really good, like The Killers, My Chemical Romance, and Linkin Park. But I’m partial to piano players. Sara Bareilles and

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Bruno Mars are great and sound even better live.”

While he is not composing, Opperman still likes to play the piano for fun, adding. “I’ll improvise until something sticks with me and that usually begins a song I write.”

Since moving back to Clifton in 2008, Opperman now plays trumpet with the Clifton Community Band, also under the direction of Mr. Morgan. “He’s a great guy and I enjoy that he’s really intense. No one works harder than him, so he’s definitely a role model for people who want to get into music,” he said. “He’s proud of me and it’s great to be working with him again.” Opperman is now working on an arrangement called “Lollipops & Roses” which the Clifton Community Band will perform this summer.

Since earning his Master’s Degree in Music Composition from Montclair State University,

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

Opperman has been hired as an Adjunct Professor at MSU to teach an independent study on the music industry, which he is very excited about. Opperman also has another album soon to be released called “Play Like Men, Eat Like Kings!” which he worked on with Counting Crows founding bassist Matt Malley and Grammy-nominated saxophonist Frank Macchia. This album was created from the unique idea that “instead of having a goodbye party when I was leaving LA, I decided to write an album in one day. I asked Matt and Frank to join and we worked for twelve hours straight on this album which, in the end, really doesn’t sound like it was done in a day.”

Another album which Opperman has in the works is a collection of Walt Whitman artsongs for piano and soprano called “Leaves of Grass.” This summer, Opperman will be performing with his ensem-

ble Special Opps as one of the headliners at the annual Frank Zappa Festival (Zappanale) in Bad Doberan, Germany.

Even after so many years of doing what he loves, Opperman is still taken back by his accomplishments. “If you told me in high school that I’d play with Steve Vai and Grammy nominated musicians, I would have laughed in your face,” he said. “I never thought anyone would listen to or appreciate my music.”

The Cliftonite said any aspiring musicians should pursue their dreams as well. “Just write stuff. It doesn’t matter if it’s good and it doesn’t matter what your parents or teachers think,” he said. “Don’t give up and you’ll get better because you learn so much more by actually doing something.”

Find Opperman’s new album, “The Lionheart,” at www.chrisopperman.net or on iTunes.

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THE MISFIT MUTTS Swingman Ray Grabowski Keeps ‘Em on a Loose Leash

By Joe Hawrylko

R

ay Grabowski joined the Fred Astaire Studio of Upper Montclair two years ago hoping to learn how to swing dance. Somehow, he ended up playing swing music instead.

“I always wanted to learn how to swing dance and I went to the school and met (teacher) Carrie Babcock,” explained Grabowski. “I used to play years ago professionally. I kind of retired and then took dance lessons up. I had the idea of putting a band together again for a while and roped Carrie into it since she can sing.”

The unexpected turn of events led to the creation of Swingman and the Misfit Mutts, a nine piece, jump jiving swing band that harkens back to an era of music from long ago.

“The Blues Brothers movie, that’s basically what our band is like,” explained Grabowski, the leader of Swingman and the Misfit Mutts. “We play stuff from the 50s, 60s, a lot of contemporary blues songs... we give people unique songs but also do a lot of cover stuff.

Blues music is not only slow music, it’s got a shuffle beat.”

The band came together over the span of about a year after a lengthy search and many auditions.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

“We actually went to open coffee houses, open mic nights and on the internet, just talking with different musicians,” explained Ray. “We actually ran into Pete at a coffee house and he said ok, and then he got me a sax player.”

The line up includes Ray Grabowski on drums, Slap Pappy on bass, Rich Fischer on lead guitar, Leny Nigro on sap and harp, Shane Zwibel wields the baritone sax, with Carolyn Messina playing keyboards. The vocals are handled by Carrie and Pete DeMaio.

The creation of Swingman and the Misfit Mutts also led to the musical reunion of Grabowski and his brother, Matt, a City Councilman and an accomplished musician in his own right. Matt is the third vocalist for the band, and has nine albums to his name on mattgarbo.com.

In the past, the Grabowskis have collaborated on numerous projects, most notably Cerberus. a rock band

The Swingman, Ray Grabowski.

which achieved success domestically and abroad in Europe. Ray recorded and co-produced two records and an album with the group.

“That was an original band,” recalled Grabowski. “We played together for a couple of years in New York City, hitting all the big

rock clubs, parties, barmitzvahs, catering.”

Their shared professional musician background simplified the process of finding like-minded musicians and forming a distinct sound.

“All of the people hired, they are professionals, not high schoolers in a garage,” he continued. “We practice every Wednesday, and if we have time on Tuesday we put in some hours. If I send everyone a CD on Friday, they’d come in next Wednesday and we’d count it down and play it. These guys are really good.”

In the short time that the band has been actively performing, Swingman and the Misfit Mutts have developed a following.

“In the last three months, we’ve played six times. That’s more than some bands play in an entire year,” he said. “We only came out in March. We’ve done Bliss a

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couple times, Crossroads, the Whiskey Cafe, the Downtown Salsa Night.”

Word of the band has spread in part due to the Grabowski brothers promotion of the group and the partnership with Fred Astaire Studio of Upper Montclair.

“The first time we played, we probably had 100 people from there come,” said Grabowski. “They dance every single song and when you’re in the crowd, it gets contagious. People from the dance school are friendly.

They just go up to anyone and say, ‘lets dance.’”

As the band’s popularity grows, Grabowski said the band has started to include more original works, and more booking opportunities have opened up. Everything is happening just as he envisioned it.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

“We have a bunch of great people with us,” he said.

“My brother, he’s a good looking guy, and Carrie, she’s a good looking girl. What else can you ask for? It’s visual, and it works.”

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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10th Annual Labor Day Weekend Festival in the Park Carnival Rides, Food & Fun • September 2, 3, 4 & 5 5-10 pm in Randolph Park

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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REAL ROCK & ROLL DJ Bill Kelly is Hailed as the Guru of Garage

By Joe Hawrylko

F

or a self-professed music geek like Bill Kelly, it’s the best job in the world. A radio DJ at WFMU since 1978, his job has given him access to the company’s massive music library and allowed him to interact with some of the premier talent in radio and music, including ‘Little Steven’ Steven Van Zandt of the E Street Band fame, who eventually ended up recruiting the Kelly, man known as the Guru of Garage, when he was preparing to set up his own station nearly a decade ago.

“Ten years ago his office manager called to set up a meeting,” he recalled. “I thought I was being punked, but I go there and damnit, he is there.”

Kelly had heard rumors of having a celebrity fan, and it turned out that Van Zandt (above, left) enjoyed his show so much that he wanted to get a hold of the Cliftonite for tips on how to start up his own show on Sirius Satellite Radio.

“He met me because he was interested in getting into radio and he liked my show specifically. Essentially when he started his syndicated show, he even acknowledged my show as the prototype,” explained Kelly, who has had his own slot on the Underground Garage since 2004. “The fact that I got to meet him and work on his radio show is a thrill. The fact that he’s a great guy is a bonus, just icing on the cake.”

The two bonded over their shared love of the raw sounding American garage rock band from the 60s, which drew heavily from British Invasion bands like The Kinks and others. And while Kelly did enjoy the some of the

mainstream groups, his passion was finding obscure but talented local bands from around the country. Prior to Napster revolutionizing the way people listen to music, the only way someone could listen to a local band from across the country in 1978 was to either listen to the radio at a precise time of day when the signals would carry the farthest, or start working at a radio station with access to a impossibly huge album collection.

“My first show at WFMU was on Aug. 15, 1978 and I haven’t looked back since,” recalled Kelly, an unpaid volunteer who airs from 3 to 5 pm on Sundays. “I wanted an opportunity to have access to as much music as possible as a music geek. I wanted to play what I like instead of what I’m supposed to like. I’m a bit of a music historian, so I’m quite well versed. It’s a hobby but turned out to be more than just that.”

It could quite possibly be destiny—Kelly’s fascination with music and radio started many years ago after sickness confined him to his bed for a few weeks as a child.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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“In the first grade, I got the measles,” recalled Kelly. “So I was home, watching tv, and my mother comes in and puts a table radio next to the bed and said you’re going to get sick of all this TV, listen to the radio.”

The TV went off and the radio went on, and Kelly’s interest in music and radio piqued. His love of music became a passion and then obsession throughout his childhood.

While attending Holy Cross College, Kelly volunteered at the school radio station and briefly considered a career in broadcasting but decided against it for a field with better job prospects and now operates his own company, International Components, out of his home.

But that passion for music continued to burn after he graduated in 1970. After learning about a volunteer opportunity at WFMU, he went there in 1978 and has been there ever since.

With more than three decades of airtime experience, Kelly has developed a following, and has earned himself a handful of odd nicknames: The Guru of Garage, the Sultan of Surf, the Potentate of Power Pop, the Mountebank of Manhattan an d the Black Hole of Rock and Role, among othBill Kelly as he appears on the ers.

WFMU DJ collectible cards.

The names—some given, some authored himself—all speak of his seemingly endless and occasionally useful knowledge of rock acts both popular and obscure. Kelly has 45 demos of groups that few of heard of and that the artists themselves sometimes don’t even know exist.

“I’ve gotten calls from some artists asking where I found their stuff because they don’t even have it,” he said. “Five years ago, I got a call from a woman in Ohio who was getting married. Her father was in a band, The Journey Men and heard their song on the radio.”

The Guru of Garage came through and had a copy of the song delivered to the DJ at the wedding. It’s little anecdotes like that make his job well worth the time.

“I’m just happy doing what I do at WFMU and the Underground Garage,” said Kelly. “This is a labor of love.”

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

On June 5, several bands and many fans came out to Dingbatz on Van Houten Ave. for a benefit concert to support the New Jersey Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. James Nasta and other members from Clifton band, The Unknown (left), helped coordinate the event with bar owner Freddy Dingo, and then later performed. Above is The Dirty Stayouts, another Clifton based band which performed that day. To hear some music, look up each band’s name on Facebook.

Below center is Keith ‘Kahuna’ Mekita, who hosts karaoke nights at Milano’s on Van Houten Ave. every Saturday night. Pictured from left is Regina Carfora, Ross LaCorte, Robert Rowan and wife Joyce, Lori and Keith Mekita, and Richard and Debbie Lekstom.

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

49

PASSION MEETS TALENT Danny Farkas Combines Sales Skill with Love of Music

By Joe Hawrylko

lways interested in music, Danny Farkas had always treated it as a fun hobby and nothing more. However, after graduating from CHS in 2001, the former Marching Mustang began to explore career options and ultimately enrolled in NYU’s music business grad program.

The decision allowed Farkas to embark on a career in the music industry, where he combines his sales skills with his love of music.

Farkas currently works for Getty Images, but not in the capacity that most would imagine. An account executive with the music branch, he sells music licenses to be used in advertisements and other forms of short media.

“I deal with creative agencies, production companies, creative departments within corporate clients,” he said.

“I usually deal with departments that are making creative videos or marketing campaigns.”

“A lot of it is dealing with existing clients, getting them to buy or subscribe to our service,” he said. “ “We even get clients who are in the music industry or are current Getty customers that don’t know that we do this.”

The prospect of working in a new branch within an already established company is what attracted Farkas to Getty Images.

“I was brought in to be their lead sales guy,” he said.

“We deal mainly with production music and the kind of music used as background music.”

Prior to Getty, Farkas worked for an artist management company for three years, working closely with musicians like Regina Spektor and others.

“My role was kind of like Jonah Hill’s character in Get Him To the Greek,” he explained. “But it wasn’t so much being a personal assistant. We worked with everyone that the artist dealt with: the label, business managers, lawyers... If we were putting out an album, we’d be dealing with the record label. On tour, a lot of booking agents and tour managers. My boss would make executive decisions and I’d carry out those decisions.”

The job called for Farkas to sometimes hit the road

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

Danny Farkas is with Getty Images’ music branch.

with musicians, stopping across the United States and Canada, as well as the United Kingdom.

“Anything you could encounter in the music industry on the talent side, you’d run into while you’re doing artist management,” he added.

The time spent at the company gave Farkas valuable experience in the industry, and the confidence to start exploring for other opportunities in the field. An opening at Getty Images attracted him, and Farkas has been working for the company’s emerging music division for three months.

“Getty got into music four years ago when they acquired a company, Pump Audio,” he said. “From

there, they’ve expanded music offerings and much like Getty Images, have both rights management and royalty free images.”

“It’s challenging because coming from a music background, I remember what I went through at the music business graduate program at NYU, immersed in music-only,” continued Farkas. “Coming here, there’s a wide range of very smart people who deal with a lot of different types of licensing. It’s challenging, and obviously I’m just learning. This part of the industry is exciting. It’s a new, well-rounded experience.”

The former Cliftonite said that his new gig is a perfect blend of his sales skills and his love of music.

The ability to see his success in the new branch of Getty Images is what motivates him each morning.

“You’re starting with a product that people don’t know much about,” he said. “It can only go up if things go well.”

lues Rocker Jerome Mykietym brings his band The Reclamators to the Rosen Theatre at the YM/YWHA of North Jersey in Wayne on Sept. 18 at 7 pm. Special guest include veteran bluesman Robert Ross and Jerome’s son Jeremy of The Benjamins on drums. Mykietyn has come full circle with the release of his blues album, Sing It, White Boy! with observations on global warming, homelessness, the economy and love’s rejection. Mykietyn had his first single release (vinyl) in 1963 and for the next six years he turned out 15 singles. Find out more and sample his sound at www.myspace.com/thereclamators.

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Friendships forged at the Campfire

Photo by Collette Kennedy

Story by Julie Generalli Dominick

Around the blazing council fire light

And so before we close our eyes to sleep

We have met in comradeship tonight

Let us pledge each other that we’ll keep

Round about the whispering trees

Camping friendships strong and deep

Guards our golden memories

Till we meet again...

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he tradition at Camp Clifton was to end each campfire with a song pledging to keep our summer friendships alive, the words to which are on the facing page. We laughed about how corny those lines sounded when we were teens but decades later—and for generations of campers—those verses have kept us connected.

Photos and comments from former campers—generations of whom have remained friends—some have even married!—tell the story... Camp Clifton holds a special place in the hearts of many of us.

I was a camper and later a counselor at the Clifton Boys Club camp from 1967-1971. Today, at 55 years of age, I still remain closely connected to those who have a shared history of carefree and blissful days of summers past.

In 1961, the Clifton Boys Club executive director, Al Abruscoto purchased Camp Ranger in Jefferson Township and opened the camp for boys in 1963. Four years later, Clifton girls were offered the chance to attend a two-week session. By 1968 another girls’ session was added due to popular demand. A bargain at $110 a session, my parents and many others took full advantage and signed all six of us up.

On the facing page, a photo from a reunion held two years ago in which old friendships and campfires were rekindled. Top of page... boys at the basketball court, a ceremony invoking the Lenni Lenape traditions, and bottom, a pig roast to close out a session.

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At the path to the lake, from top, camp cook Ben Pierce, counselor Severin Palydowicz and Diane Quinn, and below, a look back at a live performance on the lake. Bottom of page, unidentified groups of campers.

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“You were the reason my sisters and I went to camp,” Patricia DeLora told me recently. “Our moms met at a UNICO meeting and the next thing I knew, we were out buying trunks with locks on them.” .

Sisters Joanne, Patricia and Linda DeLora also attended the first girls’ session and instantly bonded with me and my own three sisters, Roseanne, Janet and Vicki Generalli. We became so close to the DeLora family that many people thought we were related.

“Maybe that’s because you call my mother Aunt Toot and I call your mother Aunt Gen.” she laughed.

I recently had a chance to reminisce with Patricia, who now resides in Bloomfield with her husband, Dr. Richard Podkul, and their children, Lauren and Alex.

“Remember when the counselors kept playing the soundtrack to Romeo and Juliet over and over?

Your sister Roseanne drove us to see the movie at the Clifton Theater on Main Avenue in 1968.” Romeo and Juliet remains on Pat’s and my top ten movie list.

The counselors left lasting impressions on us all. “I remember my CIT (counselor-in-training) Diane Quinn because she was beautiful, so nice,” Pat mused. Diane’s mother was the first camp nurse and is remembered fondly by many.

Kathy DeLuca, whose family name is synonymous with the Boys Club and Camp Clifton, recalls her first days at camp and time spent in the camp infirmary.

“In 1967, I went to see my brothers Vic and Ray on visiting day,” said Kathy who was only 9 years old, “and everyone loved me. I was just a kid and they begged me to

stay. I went to visit and never went home. Little did they know I had the chicken pox. Our entire cabin had to be quarantined. I ended up staying in the camp infirmary for my first week up there.”

Kathy and I fondly remember the camp cook, Ben Pierce, who was most likely the first African American man that we knew.

Kathy recalls asking Ben every night, “What’s for dinner?” He would answer, “Food.”

Kathy: “What kind of food?”

Ben: “Good food!”

Kathy and I would eventually

become bunkmates and good buddies. Together we earned the right to take an overnight trip on the Appalachian Trail, a requirement necessary to earn the coveted red feather that would make us Red Squaws following in the camp tradition of Native American lore.

“When we became Red Squaws they made us put cloves under our tongues after the council fire ceremony and we weren’t allowed to talk for the rest of night,” recalls Kathy. Looking back, I realize the counselors were no fools. What a great way to keep us quiet.

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Campers Tom DiDonna, Karen Dominick, writer Julie (Generalli) Dominick, Robert Lipala, Keith Oakley, Ray Kalas.

Kathy DeLuca Pugliese is now a certified teacher and lives in Clifton with daughters, Jacqueline and Victoria and works as a bar manager in Woodridge. Her brother Victor is the mayor of Maplewood, where he and his wife Janey live. Last year, he was inducted into the Boys Club Hall of Fame for his contributions to camp and the Boys Club. DeLuca has been active in politics and civic affairs for a long time.

Vic DeLuca attended Camp Clifton from 1966 to 1969 and started working as a kitchen boy. He remembers the historic moment in July of 1969 when the first men walked on the moon. “We had all the kids in the dining hall to watch this historic event on an old, cruddy black and white television. The picture was so bad, all we saw was moon snow. Godzilla could have been walking on the moon for all we knew,” Vic remembered.

He shared his first camp cabin with Bob Lipala, another Hall of Fame inductee. Bob, known to campers as “Magoo,” worked in every capacity at camp before becoming the camp’s director.

“Those years – 1967 to 1969 were the Golden Years at camp, a 56

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time of peace, love and happiness,” said Bob at a mini-reunion held this July at the Grande Saloon with camp alumni Keith Oakley, Ray Kalas, Tom DiDonna and Karen Dominick. Upon seeing Bob for the first time in decades, Karen exclaimed, “It’s Mr. Camp Clifton!”

With plenty of grass, woods and water, Camp Clifton was a welcome respite for city kids.

“I went to camp to catch frogs, turtles and snakes,” Bob said. “I would finish my work in the kitchen, walk down to the lake, catch these creatures and bring them up to the nature shed.” Not surprisingly, Bob would become the nature counselor, a position he loved.

Looking over an old copy of the camp newsletter, Wocanda’s Whisper, Bob mused at his own writings from so long ago. “Those words were obviously not from someone looking for a paycheck or a 9-5 job. They were from a way of life, a special way shared by all the campers. It was a happening, a ‘Woodstock of campers.’ Feelings were meant to be alive and shared – coldness and detachment seen as problems to be overcome.”

Bob knows a great deal of Camp

Clifton’s history and credits Al Abruscoto for having the foresight to get funding to buy the camp in 1961. “I’m grateful to have experienced and shared all of those feelings in my lifetime – even if was a long time ago. There was a special outpouring of love then and love is its own reward.”

Bob is now the treasurer of the Mens Club of the Clifton Boys & Girls Club and lives in Lake Hopatcong with his wife Rosemary and their children, Nick and Sara.

He and his family still appreciate nature and rent a cabin in Stokes State Forest every Father’s Day. Another fellow Boys Club Hall of Famer is Tom DiDonna, whose connection to Camp Clifton is roundabout.

Tom claims, “Al Abruscoto took a chance with me. I was a goof ball, always in trouble.

When I stopped terrorizing kids at the Boys Club, he gave me a job at camp.” He recalls being paid $100 for the entire summer of 1969.

At the time, Tom was working at Good Deals, a supermarket located where Corrado’s Market is today, and had to take a leave of absence to work at camp. “Your brother Ernie [Generall] was in my cabin. He

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gave me a run for my money.”

Being a wise guy himself, Tom knew how to handle tough kids.

Tom came to Clifton after living in Paterson and at one time lived in the house next to Juliano’s Pizza, the building that is now the Grande Saloon. “My mom was a single parent and the Boys Club provided a safe place for me to grow up.”

Tom met his wife Karen at Good Deals and they still reside in Clifton and have two daughters. He was a delivery driver for DHL for 18 years. Tom also coaches Clifton Stallion soccer. “Everywhere I go, I hear people say, ‘Hey Coach!’ It’s a good feeling knowing you made a difference in a kid’s life.”

Keith Oakley’s connection to the Clifton Boys Club is generational and legendary. His mom, Mary, was the secretary at the club and his dad worked at the club in many capacities. His brother Wayne and sister Cindy also attended.

Keith likes to brag: “I was one of the first kids to see Camp Clifton when the Boys Club bought it, and one of the last adults on the property when it was sold.”

Keith taught Indian lore at camp, which he learned from visiting the National Museum of the American Indian in NYC as a teenager. “I wanted to learn traditional Indian lore and how to make crafts so the experience would be more authentic.” His ultimate honor as a youngster was when he was inducted as an honorary Golden Chief wearing a full headdress and war paint standing near the camp fire. He was more recently inducted into the Boys Club Hall of Fame.

Now Keith is an active alumni member and a busy dad. He has four children and two grandchildren. He worked for Air Chek Window Depot in Clifton for years before retiring.

As for Ray Kalas, I think he came

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to the Saloon out of curiosity. He did go to the Boys Club and worked at camp for a short time. He and I had a five-minute romance in CHS and it was great to see him again, looking healthy and fit. One of Ray’s camp memories includes waking up to Paul McCartney’s “Uncle Albert” as it was blasted through the PA system early in the morning. He now lives in Morris Township with his wife and has a 20 year old daughter.

Ray is a Communications professor at the County College of Morris.

So many campers, so many cherished memories. The more alumni I talk to, the more stories I hear... $ ( $ Mrs. Oakley playing Santa Claus( $ at the winter reunions. Counselors %""( $ # sneaking out to the Milk Barn for ice cream. Bags and bags of caramel M & M’s which were donated to the camp because they ‘melted in your hand.’ Henry Sabot asking, “Do you want to go on a bear hunt?”

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that was so special to each one of us and to the many others lucky enough to have sat around that same campfire. ‘Till we meet again.’

tion between us that had been sealed around a burning campfire many years earlier. We will always be connected - to a time and a place

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Russ Triolo singing “The End”

by Jim Morrison. My sister Vicki getting thrown in the lake by Dave Rainone because she was afraid of its orange murky water.

Singing “Miss Ol’ Leary put a Lantern in the Shed” in the dining hall as loud as possible. The DeVries family, the Vladicheck family, The beautiful MacVicker sisters, Severin Palydowycz, Wally Joblanski, John Mullan, Steve Sneizak. The list goes on…

Sitting across the table from my camp friends at the Grande Saloon, I realize that you couldn’t find six more different people. Yet once we began to share our camp memories, it was clear that there was a connec-

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It was a Safe Place in the Crazy 80’s Story & photos by Collette Kennedy

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These photos were taken at a 2009 reunion at Camp Clifton and attended by alumni from the 1980’s.

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here were lots of reasons people found tranquility as a camper at Camp Clifton. Perhaps it was because you could just be who you were and at the end of every night when lights went out we were all together no matter what.

Your trunk of clothing and gear and a squeaky bunk bed now defined who you were as an individual. We were all equals. I do not think anyone cared what troubles you may have been facing at home... a divorced family... a financially struggling family... a family who had someone off in the military... All of those labels didn’t matter at Camp Clifton.

You would walk down the common path and sing songs as a team so the next cabin knew you were passing by and they would try to out sing you.

It was fun, plain and simple.

Being at Camp Clifton was life altering as everyone had to learn the skills that many children would never be introduced to. I mean they certainly don’t teach you archery in elementary school, the parts of a row boat, how to survive hiking the Appalachian Mountains or go rafting or canoeing down the Delaware River.

These were all skills we picked up at Camp Clifton... it was just like riding a bike, once you learn them you will never forget them.

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nedy, David Carlet, , Lauren Carlet Szumita, Collette Ken nedy Ken in Kev ee, mitt com ion reun 9 nn Burman, The 200 Amy Lindemann Castillo, Sue Lindema Joe Criveli, and the late Joe Balega.

Meeting new people every two weeks taught us social skills and the ability to constantly adapt to new situations and personalities; how to ‘work things out’ and become one cabin for that session.

We swam, hiked, played kickball, kept a clean table in the dining hall together. It was a bond, a bond for at least two weeks—for most of us it was six weeks—a bond that wasn’t mean to be broken and it wasn’t.

Looking back, it is apparent our friendships were real... There wasn’t Facebook then to ‘friend’ just anybody, not cell phones to text message, not even computers or internet to stay in touch.

Despite that all, we kept lifetime bonds. My niece’s Godfather is my brother’s (Kevin Kennedy) fellow campmate (Scott Wagner). Penny Vareha married Josh Gross, Sue Gogick married Brian Gruchacz and the list goes on and on.

Two decades and several moves later I was working at Kean University in the Chemistry Department and looked out the window to see Amy Lindemann 62

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walking by. I kind of froze... I was afraid that the labels of childhood—I thought of myself as the ‘camper with the divorced parents’—would come back to me at age 37! But then I remembered that while at Camp Clifton, the labels don’t exist.

Once we connected it was like the 20 years had not gone by. We laughed through camp songs and memories. Within a month we said it would be great to have a reunion.

In 2009 that reunion came to be thanks to connections that were reestablished from Facebook and the leadership of Joe Crivelli. A committee was formed and we were able to rent the old Camp Clifton grounds (now Camp Jefferson) and host a one day reunion.

It was amazing to be at the old camp and see old friends, as many looked exactly the same.

Campers brought their kids who ‘earned their feathers,’ we built a huge camp fire, sang songs, walked the grounds and were amazed at how close the pavilion really is...

Who knew the temporary stages set on skit nights in the pavillion would become the platform for the impact Camp Clifton would have on all of us for the rest of our lives?

As I wrote this essay, I was also packing to take my 7 year old Godson Jacob Baker camping.

“My dad thinks it is going to be really funny to watch you start a camp fire,” he said.

Have confidence, I told him, because many years ago at Camp Clifton I learned how to start a fire... and I would teach him, too.

Then I shared how I nurtured these skills when I was a few years older than he on hikes on the Appalachian Trail. How I built a fire at night to cook the food we

carried in our backpacks and the same was true when we went canoeing or rafting down the Delaware River, the only trick to that trip was being sure nothing got wet or ruined if your canoe flipped.

I am happy to report that the campfire was a success. On the last night, we found a single feather laying on the ground. It was a feather of a Blue Jay—I guess Jacob really did earn his ‘blue feather.’

Collette Kennedy went to Camp Clifton from 1983-1988. She attended college later than most and graduated in 2008 with a Bachelor’s in Management Science and a Minor in Recreation Administration.

She hopes that ‘my second career can be working a summer camp for kids (unless I hit the lottery and I can buy Camp Jefferson and turn it back into what we had) or working at a Boys & Girls Club since the B&GC had such a profound impact on my childhood and helped shape who I am today.’

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A Somber Memory of Camp Clifton Story by Joe Crivelli

It was Facebook that got the ball rolling…connecting me first with co-workers, then folks from high school and college. Then Camp Clifton. It was a blast to reconnect with people who had been absent from my life for decades and find that we had all evolved into responsible adults with homes, kids, jobs.

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(right) at y 2009, with Joe Crivelli The late Joe Balega, in Jul

Camp Clifton.

econnecting with the Camp Clifton crew unleashed a flood of memories and emotions. A troubled, introverted, and lonely kid, Camp Clifton was the one place on earth that I felt like I fit in. It was the one place where I could be welcomed as one of the “cool” guys.

On my first day at camp I was wearing a tee shirt with the ubiquitous bunny logo. When teams were being selected for a basketball game, one of the counselors said, “Hey you— Playboy—you’re on this team.” The name stuck. For the rest of my years at Camp Clifton I was Playboy. I relished that nickname.

There was one common denominator for all of us who attended Camp Clifton in the 1970s—Joe Balega.

When I first started going to camp Joe was one of the older campers, a senior camper really. He had made “Warrior”—the highest honor August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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that could be bestowed on a Clifton camper and was on a path to be a counselor once he was old enough.

He knew the ropes and was respected and admired.

Joe and I were a stark contrast.

He was driven, focused, confidently moving through his life towards goals. If you asked him back what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would tell you he wanted to be a lawyer. Joe Balega kept his nose clean and stayed out of trouble, walked the straight and narrow. A model camper. A model kid. A clean cut young man.

Joe Balega was the one who broke the news to me and my fellow campers when Yankees catcher Thurman Munson died in a plane crash. We sat in stunned disbelief while Joe Balega openly cried for the loss of one of his childhood idols.

Me, I got in trouble. I smoked.

Brought magazines that were associated with my nickname to camp.

Snuck off to the girls’ side of the camp late at night to rendezvous with girlfriends. Basically ignored the rules and annoyed the powersthat-be that ran the camp.

My last year at camp I was 15 and working as a Counselor-in-Training, and though it was never formally stated that I wouldn’t be welcomed back the next year as a counselor, it was clear to me that I shouldn’t apply. The next summer I would find a new camp to try my act at. It would last one year. After that, I spent my summers lifeguarding at pools in and

around Clifton. My camping days had come to a close.

Joe Balega continued to work at Camp Clifton for many more years, touching many more lives. When we all reconnected on Facebook, it was no surprise to me to learn that Joe Balega had gone to Rutgers and become a lawyer. Now living in Ohio, he was a single dad to three boys. And dozens if not hundreds of former campers who had their lives touched by him as a kid were overjoyed to reconnect with him.

Joe Balega drove the fur-

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thest to attend the Camp Clifton reunion. He was engaged to a beautiful woman. His law business was doing well. He seemed genuinely happy. All of us were thrilled to see him again, and even more thrilled to see him open the reunion council fire—a Camp Clifton tradition. We all said goodbye as darkness fell and the fire burned down and we made a pledge to meet again a few years hence.

Fast forward to April 1, 2010. It’s morning and I’m settling into my routine at my office, when I get an email from Amy Castillo, one of my new-found friends from the Camp Clifton Reunion. “Joe, call me ASAP. It’s important.” This was odd, and not at all like Amy. Sobbing uncontrollably, Amy broke the news to me that the previous morning, Joe Balega had been found in his home, dead of an apparent suicide. Once again, I sat in stunned disbelief. Not Joe Balega.

That’s not possible.

If you had asked me my impression of Joe at the reunion, I would have said, “He’s happy.” He seemed genuinely happy to be there, genuinely happy with his life. He was all smiles, as were his sons. My lasting memory of Joe and his family was that they were joyful. My lasting memory of Joe as a teenager was that he had his act together. He was one of the good kids. He was universally nice and kind to everyone.

Others concurred. In a recent conversation, Renee Ilaria Woods, a classmate and fellow camper, said, “I didn’t see someone who was struggling the day of the reunion—I saw someone who was filled with joy, pride and promise for the future.” Amy Lindemann Castillo added, “I think if Joe could be in such a place, anyone could. He had an amazing impact on all of us.”

We really didn’t know each other all that well. A few summers spent together at camp. A few months spent planning a reunion as adults.

But his life touched mine. He treated others well, and he did so simply because he was a genuinely good guy. He seemed to me one of those rare people who didn’t have a mean inclination in his being.

He was the absolute last person I would have expected to do this. And the irony is that if he had asked any of us from the Camp Clifton crew for help, if he had called any of us on that fateful night, we would have been there for him. I think there are probably a hundred people from camp that would have driven all night or hopped on the first flight to

Ohio to sit by his side, talk him through whatever dark demons were haunting him, convince him that he was loved and needed—by his sons, by his family and friends, and by us, to open that next council fire at that next reunion.

This year, on the one year anniversary of that horrible day, a number of folks from camp posted on Joe’s Facebook page. “Grateful for the time we had. Heartbroken for the time we won’t. Too many tears, not enough memories. Have a peaceful rest. I look forward to catching up.”; “Camp Clifton on the brain today— thinking how amazing it was to have a reunion and reconnect with everyone, feeling lucky to have had those experiences...and missing you terribly, Joe Balega”; “I miss you Joe —I think of you so very often. Xoxo” And the most heartbreaking post of all, from one of Joe’s sons, which simply said, “Hi dad.”

Some have kicked around the idea of another reunion, but the idea of a reunion without Joe just seems so incomplete. In many ways, Joe Balega was Camp Clifton. If only we had known. If only he could have found the words, the word, to ask for help.

So many troubled kids spent summers at Camp Clifton—myself included. So many kids who you just knew were going to have a hard time making their way through life.

But not Joe.

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C L I F TO N Pe o p l e …

The First Annual John Greco Memorial Golf Outing was a success. Over 300 golfers attended the July 11 event at the Knoll Country Club. Greco, who was a teacher at CCMS, as well as lacrosse coach at MSU, passed away last November. In his memory, the Greco family created a fund and scholarships have been awarded to MSU lacrosse players who are studying teaching, as well as CHS lacrosse alum who are pursing a higher education. Details and photos at johngreco.dyndns.org.

Russell Triolo, CEO of the Boys & Girls Club of Union County, was named executive of the year by the Garden State Chapter of The Professional Association of Boys & Girls Clubs. Triolo began as a Program Director at the B&G Club in Garfield in 1973 and was named the Chief Executive Officer of the B&G Club of Union County in 1980. Since then, the Union County Club has grown from a single facility serving 2,000 children to five clubhouses that today provide services to over 7,500 children annually. Triolo is an alumni of the Boys & Girls Club of Clifton, and a 2009 inductee of its Hall of Fame.

CHS Senior Eric James was one of 2,250 young men and women selected to attend the Naval Academy Summer Seminar program this summer. The six day program is for high achievers entering their senior year of high school and considering enrolling in the US Naval Academy.

CHS Class of 1971 member Keith Oakley (pictured rear, left) is Chair of the Board of Trustees of the Passaic County Elks Cerebral Palsy Center. Oakley and Joanne Stolarz (rear, right), President of the Elks Special Children’s Committee, were recently recognized for their service by parents and other Board members.

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Clifton Court Indian an eng and wo

A JOURNEY TO JUSTICE

Our Oct. 1998 edition focused on our city’s evolving ethnic diversity.

Among those featured included Luisa Castillo, Richard Smith, Sophia Constandinou, John Pogorelec and Sohail Mohammed.

I

n October of 1998, Sohail Mohammed told the Clifton Merchant: “I would like to see a time when my name can be taken as it is, and I am not considered to be a terrorist.”

That time came on July 26 when Mohammed became the first IndianAmerican and second Muslim to sit on a bench in New Jersey.

He was sworn in as a Passaic County Superior Court Judge by Retired Assignment Judge Robert J. Passero, who inspired Mohammed to pursue a legal career back in the late 1980’s after he had served on a jury in Passero’s court. He was nominated for the post in January by Governor Chris Christie.

Mohammed story reads like a modern day American journey. He

came to this country and became a citizen in 1986. He and his wife settled in Clifton and became active in the community.

Not long after his experience as a juror, he quit his job as an engineer to enroll in Seton Hall University to study immigration law. He began practicing in 1993, and has been awarded numerous accolades. In 1995, he was one of just six attorneys in the nation who were awarded a scholarship to attend the national leadership conference for young lawyers. Then in 1997, Mohammed won the New Jersey Young Lawyers Professional Achievement Award.

Following the attacks on the country on Sept. 11, 2001, Christie, then US State Attorney, contacted Mohammed to serve as an ambassador between the state’s Muslim community and law enforcement officials.

Mohammed had previous experience as an ambassador for the Muslim community, speaking at

seminars to ease tensions long before the Sept. 11 attacks.

However, such history did not dissuade detractors on the internet and elsewhere from challenging the nomination.

Attackers criticized Mohammed for representing individuals that were detained following Sept. 11, and questioned whether a devout Muslim judge would bring Sharia law—Muslim religious code—into the American courts.

Despite detractors from across the country, Christie, a Seton Hall Law School grad himself, stuck by his nomination, voicing support in newspapers and at the July 26 ceremony in the Passaic County Courthouse.

“It’s just crazy, and I’m tired of dealing with the crazies,” Christie said on July 29 in the Star-Ledger.

“It’s just unnecessary to be accusing this guy of things just because of his religious background. I’m happy that he’s willing to serve after all this baloney.”

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C L I F TO N Pe o p l e …

Over the last few months, essays by Dr. Christopher de Vinck have been featured in our magazine. His stories have been wonderful tales, some which reach back to his childhood to convey an emotion and others that share his observations of life today.

A graduate from Teachers College, Columbia University, Dr. de Vinck (at left) is better known as the Language Arts Supervisor at Clifton High School. But his inspiring and reflective essays have appeared in the Wall Street Journal, the Record and many major national publications. Thus, we are pleased to welcome him as a regular contributor to our pages.

As the author of 13 books, his best known work is The Power of the Powerless (Crossroad Books) a loving and frank reflection on the struggles and joys of loving his severely disabled brother.

This past month, Moments of Grace: Days of a Faith-Filled Dreamer was released and hailed for its insight and wisdom. Readers will find inspiration and hope in this accessible book,” wrote one reviewer. “It will strike a chord in these difficult times.” To order the book, call 1-800-218-1903 or look for it in major bookstores or online.

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THE ARTIST & HIS DAUGHTER Colleen North and her father, William

I

n addition to being a Realtor with Coldwell Banker, Colleen North can now add author to her resume. The Cliftonite has recently published a book about her father, William North, entitled Florida Artists, WM North, His Life and Art. Colleen always remembered her father as a business man who was usually enroute to New York City for the start of his work day by the time she was out of bed for school. But over the years, she learned that her father was a budding artist whose interest in the field stretched back to his own childhood.

Growing up in The Great Depression, William’s family was unable to afford sketch pads, and he would draw on the scraps of paper and cardboards that came inside his father’s shirts from the laundry.

William would spend several years harnessing his emrging talents while focusing on raising his family. His dream was to eventually become a full time artist, something that William achieved in 1990 after he retired and

From top left: William North, a painting of Colleen as a baby, and Colleen North today.

moved to Florida, where he now resides. There, William dedicated himself to oil painting, found his muse and became a renown artist, selling more than 600 original works and receiving numerous accolades along the way.

His works have been on exhibition in various galleries over the past 40 years, and his paintings are in hundreds of collections across the United States and abroad, from Japan to Russia.

William, who will be 84 in September, has been living with Age Related Macular Degeneration for more than three years, which affects his vision. Before his sense of sight completely deteriorated, he wanted to complete one last goal: publish a book about his artistic endeavors, a dream which William had expressed to his daughter for the past decade.

Colleen undertook the task, found a publisher and set out writing what William calls his ‘legacy book’, learning much about her father in the process. The book can be purchased at Amazon. com or other outlets.

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CLIFTON Events…

The Second Annual Walk a Mile in Her Shoes event is Sept. 24 in Jubilee Park, Allwood and Clifton Aves. Men, along with other supporters, will don high heels for a walk around the park to protest rape, sexual assault and gender violence. Sponsored by the Passaic County Women’s Center, registration begins at 10 am and the walk at 11. A limited amount of womens shoes will be available at the event.

The Passaic County Women’s Center (PCWC) is a non-profit organization that provides various domestic violence and sexual assault services for our community, and is open 24 hours a day year round. To enter the event, register at pcwcwalkamile.dojiggy.com.

For info on the services of the center, write tbivaletz@njaconline.org or call 973-881-0725 The Athenia Veterans Post Classic Car Night is on Mondays, 5 to 9 pm through the end of September at the Post, 147 Huron Ave. Entry is free, and there is a menu with a selection of BBQ food. The Post will also hold its annual Labor Day Picnic on Sept. 4, from 1 to 6 pm. Tickets are $20 for this all-you-can-eat and drink event. Call 973-778-0931.

The Second Annual Walk a Mile in Her Shoes event to fight rape, sexual assault and domestic violence will take place on Sept. 24 in Jubilee Park, 1365 Clifton Ave.

The Clifton Rocket Club will begin its fourth eight week session in September. Children of all ages learn how to assemble a toy rocket, which is launched more than 1,000 feet into the air with assistance from Deputy Fire Chief Norm Tahan, who oversees the club. A total of 18 kids have turned out for the club, which meets each Sunday from 10 am to noon. The $25 fee includes a rocket kit with engines.

For more info on the and other programs offered, call the Rec Dept. at 973-470-5956.

The Clifton Family Camp Out will take place overnight on Aug 19 starting at 6 pm at Albion Park on Maplewood Ave. Families can pitch tents or sleep under the stars but either way, the idea is to spend some time outdoors together. Staff from the Clifton Rec Dept. will host a cook out with hot dogs and hamburgers, followed by games and activities, campfire, marshmellow roasting and more. The fee is $10 for a family of four or $3 per person; $20 for a family of four for non residents. Raindate Aug. 26.

772-8451

973Roofing • Siding Seamless Gutters Additions • Alterations 74

August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

t 9 n h t e m a d w 0 ; -

The Take Back the Parks cleanup project continues on Aug. 6 Nash (Lexington and Piaget), Aug. 13, Chelsea Park (Chelsea and Brighton), Aug. 20, Surgent Park (Valley Rd.) Aug. 27, Lowry & Delawanna Memorial (Main and Delawanna) Cleanup begins at 10 am so bring gloves and a water bottle. The Rec Dept. program Play It Forward offers gently used bags of bats, balls, frisbees and other gear for families to enjoy for free at a designated park each day from 6 to 8 pm. The list is as follows: Aug. 1 and 15, Washington, Aug. 2 and 16, Lakeview, Aug. 3 and 17, Albion, Aug. 4 and 18, Mt. Prospect.

St. John Lutheran Church, 140 Lexington Ave., Passaic, will hold a thrift sale on Aug. 6 from 9:30 am to 1 pm. For info, call 973-779-1166.

Parrish Durham won a silver medal in a national Taekwondo Championship.

Girl Scout Troop #107 of St. Philip the Apostle School earned their Bronze Award by beautifuying an area at Morris Canal Park. Troop members planted flowers, painted and put up a new fence and added decorated rocks and bird houses.

Cliftonite Parrish Durham was awarded the silver medal at 2011 AAU National Taekwondo Championships on July 2 in Austin, TX. Competing in the 12 to 13 year old division in a competition involving each of the 50 states and Puerto Rico, Durham came up just short of his gold medal goal, which would have landed him on the AAU Cadet National Team. He will have another chance in February at the 2012 US Open Championship in Las Vegas. Durham attends CHS where he is a Fighting Mustang and trains under the direction of his father Elliot at Quality Martial Arts on Van Houten Ave.

CHS Senior and Keystone Club President Kelly Hanrahan.

The CHS Keystone Club will host a blood drive on Aug. 22 at the Boys & Girls Club bingo hall on Colfax Ave. from 3 to 8 pm.

Keystone Club President Kelly Hanrahan, the CHS senior who

coordinated the event, will receive $250 from Community Blood Services towards her college tuition for every 25 donors. Donors will be screened on site and given refreshments afterwards. Eat a meal before hand. Call1-866-228-1500.

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CLIFTON Events…

Former Mustang roundball coach Pete Vasil has added an additional week to his annual MVP Basketball Camp at St. George’s Greek Orthodox Church on Valley Rd. Camp will run from Aug. 22 to 26 and is open to children ages 7 to 16 for a rate of $75. Vasil, now the head coach at Group 1 state powerhouse Bloomfield Tech, teams up with his son, Pete Jr., a junior ballplayer at Brookdale College, to train kids from 9 am to 3 pm each day. Call Vasil at 973-930-8331, his wife Angela at 862-668-1450 or email petari@optonline.net.

Running coach Joel Pasternack hosts his fifth annual cross country camp from Aug. 22 to Aug. 26 at Brookdale Park in Bloomfield from 6 to 8 pm. Cost is $125 or $100 if three members from the same team sign up. Visit joelrun.com.

These campers enjoyed their time at Pete Vasil’s Basketball camp earier this summer. Pictured at center is the coach’s son, Pete, Jr.

The Clifton Road Runner Club after winning an interclub challenge on July 17.

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The Clifton Road Runners Club emerged victorious from an interclub challenge against the at Brookdale Park on July 17. In two separate events that day, the CRRC defeated the Essex Running Club and then bested the Rose City, The Do Run Runners, Geezers, and North Jersey Masters. Runners start according to five-year age groups in two-minute increments but all finish on one clock, and each runner completes three 1.1 mile loops of the park. The Clifton Road Runners began in 1978 and is a member of the state governing body United States Track & FieldNJ. For two consecutive years, 2009 and 2010, CRRC ranked 2nd Overall Team within USATF-NJ standings. For info on membership, write bobbaloonie@comcast.net.

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CLIFTON Events…

CHS Classes of ‘71-74 host a a joint reunion on Nov. 4 at the Parsippany Hilton from 7 pm to midnight.

Tickets are $99 and include cocktail hour, buffet dinner and desert, four hour open bar and DJ. Details at www.reunions-unlimited.com.

CHS Class of ‘66 will gather on the weekend of Nov. 18-20 for its 45th reunion. There is a Friday night social and a Saturday evening dinner dance at the Regency House Hotel in Pompton Plains. For info, go to Facebook (Clifton HS Class of 66) or call organizers Nancy Maurer Mudd (201-723-0402) or Jackie Sussman Schein (201-303-7033).

The CHS Class of ‘56 has a 55th reunion on Sept. 23 at the Cucina Calandra in Fairfield. Call or write Judi Zagaya Den Herder at 973-7796923 or judifromnj@aol.com or Terry Guarrera Gloede at 973-7735910 or via gloede314@msn.com.

Members of the CHS Class of ‘01 have their 10 year reunion from 7 to 11 pm on Nov. 26 at the Park Ridge Marriot. Ticket are $65 for the first 100 people; $70 for those who register after. For details, visit www.chs2001.rsvpbook.com.

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This photo is from an exhibit at Lambert Castle entitled Honoring Passaic County’s Civil War Veterans.

Info at www.lambertcastle.org.

The Hamilton House Museum, 971 Valley Rd., hosts a family Civil War lunch on Sept. 17 at noon.

Julie Esty will give a presentation on the dress, daily activities and customs. The event is a part of a commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. Cost is $22.50. The Museum, a restored Dutch Farm house is open most Sundays from 2-4 pm ($3 donation). Call 973-744-5707.

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Happy Birthday to Yuko Angello on Aug. 15. Emily Hawrylko celebrates on Aug. 12. Charlie ‘Tato’ Stek will be 90 on Aug. 6. Tom Hawrylko turns 54 on Aug. 15. Robbie Lucas will party on Aug. 25.

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August 2011 • Clifton Merchant

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Best wishes to E. Bernadine Boyarsky who celebrates a birthday on Aug. 3. • Nancy & Mike Ressetar mark their anniversary on Aug. 15. • Bruce & Diane Drake will be wed 41 years on Aug. 22. • Belated congratulations to lifetime sweethearts Ken & Donna Chipura on their 40th anniversary which was July 11.

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CLIFTON Events…

The Clifton Veteran Parade Fund Beefsteak is on Aug. 19 from 6 to 10 pm at the Clifton Boys & Girls Club on Colfax Ave. Tickets are $40 and include beefsteak, beer and soda.

Funds will help pay for the city annual Veteran’s Parade, on Nov. 6 at 2 pm. The parade steps off at Sylvan and Main Aves. and continues through Downtown along Main Ave. to the Clifton Veterans Memorial Monument where there are ceremonies and speeches. Make checks payable to ‘Clifton Veterans Parade Fund,’ and mail c/o John Biegel Jr., 91 Market St. 1, Clifton, NJ 07012. To contribute to the fund, for tickets, or to otherwise help out, call John Biegel at 973-519-0858.

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Over 1,400 American flags will be displayed on the campus of city hall on Patriots Day, Sunday, Sept., 11.

The idea is to honor a veteran for their time in service and to remember them in perpetuity. The flags are put up and taken down by volunteers, who also do year round maintenance. The flags are also on display on Memorial Day, which is the last Monday in May; Flag Day, June 14; Independence Day, July 4; and Veteran’s Day, Nov. 11. To honor a living or deceased veteran, purchase a flag for $100. The donation includes a name plate and a ground socket. The vet’s name, branch of service and the donor’s name will be placed in the registry book. Call John Biegel at 973-519-0858.

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