The center of the universe

In the late 1940s and early '50s, the center of the universe was a one-block, deadend street in Solvay, NY. You didn't have to live on Russet Lane to feel the same way, especially if you were a boy who enjoyed sports. There were better facilities in a park just a short walk away, but we played our games in the street, in driveways and our yards. I grew up thinking I loved these games, but later discovered that what I really loved was the way we played them on Russet Lane. Each game had its own peculiarity, its own special challenge.

Touch football was played in the street and on an incline along a 100-foot stretch between two utility poles and occasionally around parked cars. However, the most interesting challenge was presented by the branches overhead in a tall elm tree and the spreading maple across the street. When punting or kicking off (which we did by passing the ball), you had to throw it between those branches. If not, the ball came straight down or, worse, landed behind you, perhaps resulting in a safety (which we mistakenly called a touchback). Only in a Russet Lane football game was it possible to kick off and find yourself behind, 2-0.

Driveway basketball began in 1943 in the Smolinski driveway. Bill Smolinski made a wooden backboard, my welder father Buster Major made the rim, which would prove to be the biggest challenge. My father had used a basketball as his measuring stick. He never measured a regulation rim, which was much larger than the one that went up on Bill Smolinski's backboard.

The driveway was a few feet wider than the two-car garage. A five-on-five game was possible, but even four-on-four was crowded. The most interesting hazard was the dropoff from a retaining wall that separated the Smolinski driveway from our backyard. That dropoff increased from about 12 inches to 30, depending on your distance from the garage. Some players used it to their advantage, none more so than John "Bombsight" Savo (later a Solvay mailman), who perfected a running, fadeaway jump shot. That is, he'd jump, shoot and fade about 8 feet into our yard. Few defenders followed him over the wall.

The small rim (left) probably contributed to the longest winning streak in Solvay High School history. Every member of the team, captained by Bimby Smolinski, had played in the Smolinski driveway. I don't know how long the streak lasted; I do have a Syracuse Herald-American clipping, a photo of the team the day before they were going for their 27th straight. (See Solvay Basketball 1948-49.) Many years later, one of the team members, Joe Cristoforetti, joked to Bimby that his favorite basketball moment was when he finally made a shot in the Smolinski basket.

Years later Syracuse Nationals great Dolph Schayes touted a small rim he placed inside a regulation rim. By using it, he said, players could improve shooting accuracy. That was old news to Solvay teams of the late '40s.

By the 1950s we moved up the street to the Mathews backyard, playing on a regulation rim. Sometimes we played across the street and up a slight hill in the Mazzochi driveway. On a few occasions we even tried playing full court, from the Mazzochi basket to the Mathews basket, a distance that was nearly twice as long as a regulation court. Needless the say, these games never caught on.

Our favorite sports venue was a miniature softball field in a sunken, 75-foot-by-75-foot space behind the Mathews garage. All you needed were four players per team. There were no outfielders because the center field fence was just behind second base. A ball hit over that fence was an out (though eventually we allowed a home run if you cleared the top of the poplar trees in center field). It was always best to keep the ball on the ground. Jimmy Mathews was especially good at hitting grounders through a small hole in the fence. He cleared the bases almost every time.

On summer evenings we played Tin Can Copper (elsewhere known as Kick the Can). Of all my childhood memories, it’s Tin Can Copper and another street game, Jailbreak, that say the most about how neighborhood life has changed over the years. There we were – five, six, seven of us, sometimes more – running, hiding and occasionally screaming from yard to yard after dark, often lurking under a neighbor's window, hiding from whoever was “It” and waiting for an opportunity to race “home” (the telephone pole in front of Ronald Blair’s house). I can’t imagine anyone today tolerating the noise, the property invasion or the dangerous tree-climbing that went on in the Blair maple where kids disappeared among the leaves, about 25 feet off the ground.

Not that Mr. Blair always tolerated the nonsense. One night he charged out and yelled at a shadowy figure swaying high up in the tree.

"Get down, Red Mathews, or I'll call your father!"

"Go ahead!" challenged the boy.

Mr. Blair went into his house and made the call. And Joey Pozzi left his hiding place, laughing all the way home.

– JACK MAJOR

• To see an old snapshot of some of the Russet Lane kids – in the street, naturally - click on The Gang.

• The painting of the Solvay Process limestone pile, once well-known village landmark, was done many years ago by artist Edith Noble, a teacher at Solvay High School.