ELEMENTARY AND MIDDLE SCHOOL
1930, at the age of six, I started 1st grade at the Horace-Mann Elementary School. To get there, I had to walk a block and a half. There was no such thing as Kindergarten. I clearly remember my first day. Izzy, my big brother, was the traffic safety. He wore a colorful belt that made me very proud. My class consisted of 30 to 35 youngsters. The very first thing they did was line us up around the perimeter of the basement. It was scary, but I quickly got past the first day of school jitters and started my formal education. Behind the school stood a library. I used to love going there. I still love reading. The Twins books, The Dutch Twins, The French Twins, etc. were among the titles I could remember. I used to pore over the encyclopedias look- ing for anything I could imagine and stum- ble upon others. I think this library was one of the hundreds financed by Andrew Carnegie. The librarian always had a warm smile for me when I came in. I went there often. I would go home for lunch. All the chil- dren did. Entering the tailor shop a bell would ring, and I’d yell, ‘Me!’ at the top of my lungs so mother would not have to come running to the store to greet a customer. On the way back to class, she might give me a penny to spend on candy. I then had an important decision to make because there were two candy stores: Smith’s and Shield’s. I carefully studied all the offerings at both stores. The poor storekeeper I chose on any given day had to suffer through many minutes of indecision as I stood before their vast array of delicacies carefully deciding which treat I would choose that day. I did not think I was an especially good student. I excelled at Geography and was passionate about woodworking. I couldn’t start taking woodworking until 6th grade. As soon as I got the chance, I learned to use all the tools: the lathe; coping saw; band saw; hot glue pots; and chisels of all kinds. My teacher, Mr. Lutton, was one of the best I ever had.
Herman on right wearing knickers with unknown friend. Frank;s clothing by Frank Shooster
By the 8th grade, I had an hour and a half before afternoon classes started. As soon as the bell rang, I’d rush home, gobble my lunch and rush back to the woodworking shop so I could spend a happy hour before the drudgery of after- noon classes. My prized jewel from those times is a small wooden butterfly table I have kept in my office my whole life. I made it with my own hands. In recent years my son, Steve, refinished it, making it sparkle again. I was only 11 or 12 years old when I made it. I didn’t get to make much more as I had to work for my father as soon as high school started.
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