U.C.A.P.: Up Close and Paterson

By Skip Van Rensalier

Paterson is the third largest city in the state of New Jersey. It is the home of Larry Doby (the first African American baseball player to play in the American League in 1947), the world-famous comedian Lou Costello, the Great Falls National Historic Park, the Huntoon-Van Rensalier underground railroad site, the Hinchliffe Stadium (where many teams from the old Negro Baseball League played, including the New York Black Yankees), and the first submarine, which was invented and manufactured by John Holland, a Paterson schoolteacher.

But the lifeblood of Paterson are the ones who proudly call themselves Patersonians. These are the people who were born, raised, lived, worked, played, or raised their own families in Paterson.

In UCAP: Up Close and Paterson, you will hear from a small sampling of current and former residents who comprise the ethnic, socioeconomic, cultural, political, and religious diversity that is Paterson, New Jersey. Through their personal stories, you will get a brief glimpse into the soul of the city dubbed the Silk City.

And even with their contrasting and oftentimes very candid views of how different Paterson is now compared to when they grew up, there's no denying the love and pride they have for the city they call home, "P-Town!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886546651

Book preview

cover.jpg

U.C.A.P.

Up Close and Paterson

Skip Van Rensalier

Copyright © 2022 Dale Skip Van Rensalier

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 979-8-88654-649-1 (hc)

ISBN 979-8-88654-665-1 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

I dedicate this book to my mother, Mrs. Alfreida S. Van Rensalier, who was my first teacher, my rock, and my blueprint for life. She was Patersonian through and through and left an indelible mark on the community, her church, and, more specifically, the students under her tutelage during the forty-four years she served as an educator/administrator with the Paterson Public Schools. Without any type of solicitation on the part of this author, her name is mentioned in several personal stories throughout this book as someone who had a profound effect in the life of the storyteller. Suffice it to say, if Mrs. V were alive today and she was not my mother, her name would have been FIRST on my list of prospective contributors to Up Close and Paterson!

Prayer

Dear God, I commit all my plans, dreams, and aspirations into your hands. These are only products of my thoughts. What I truly want is what you want for me because I know that that is what will truly be best for me. God deserves ALL the glory and ALL the honor for my ability to write this book. Amen!

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgments

Spontaneous Selection

Anna (Pelosi) Adams

Veradene Vera Ames

Rev. Dr. Kenneth Darryl Ray Clayton

Ruby N. Cotton

Scott Cumberbatch

John Currie

D'Angelo Duke Dangerfield

Maritza Davila

Elvis James Durham

Dr. Joseph Sinatra Fulmore Sr.

David Gilmore Sr.

Mohammad Hindi

Amber Huq

Sikander Khan

Benjamin Leak

Shanikwa Lemon

Ray Lyde Sr.

Andre Akbar McEntyre

Raymond Mickens

Alonzo Tambua Moody

Dr. Arnett W. Moore

William Peter Nelson Jr.

William James Pascrell Jr.

Nelida Nellie Pou

Jennifer Tiritilli Ranu

Glenn Reed

Pete Rendina Jr.

Nicholas Rodriguez

Juan Mitch Santiago

Monique Latise Scott

Lynette Lee Shaw

William Raheem Smallwood

Marcia Lorraine Stancil

Floyd Vivino (Uncle Floyd)

Assemblyman Benjie Wimberly

Underground Railroad

Paterson's Biographical Sketch: The National Arsenal

About the Author

I dedicate this book to my mother, Mrs. Alfreida S. Van Rensalier, who was my first teacher, my rock, and my blueprint for life. She was Patersonian through and through and left an indelible mark on the community, her church, and, more specifically, the students under her tutelage during the forty-four years she served as an educator/administrator with the Paterson Public Schools. Without any type of solicitation on the part of this author, her name is mentioned in several personal stories throughout this book as someone who had a profound effect in the life of the storyteller. Suffice it to say, if Mrs. V were alive today and she was not my mother, her name would have been FIRST on my list of prospective contributors to Up Close and Paterson!

Prayer

Dear God, I commit all my plans, dreams, and aspirations into your hands. These are only products of my thoughts. What I truly want is what you want for me because I know that that is what will truly be best for me. God deserves ALL the glory and ALL the honor for my ability to write this book. Amen!

Foreword

Paterson is known for its history, and you can't have history without stories. Paterson has many stories that need to be told. This book takes a deep dive into the personal lives of some very fascinating Patersonians.

You'll hear from people from all parts of the city as well as all parts of the world. There is a reason why people call our city home. Whether they're from South America or America's South, they came to Paterson for a reason.

Paterson, over the years, has proven its resiliency with great floods, great fires, and now a pandemic. But the common denominator is that Paterson always bounces back because of the resolve of its people.

Like many urban centers, Paterson has had its struggles with racism and social justice. However, you will hear from individuals who have been part of that struggle, succeeded, and continued to serve as examples of progress being made, not only in Paterson but in our country.

In this book, Skip Van Rensalier has been able to capture the testimonies of Patersonians who have been laboring in the vineyard, who grew up in this city, who have raised families in this city, and who continue to make a living in this city. Within these accounts, you'll hear stories of pain as well as pride in Paterson.

Paterson is New Jersey's most diverse city, and in this book, you'll hear inspiring tales of people from all different walks of life as Skip profiles and accentuates the multicultural mosaic that is Paterson.

Mayor André Sayegh

Preface

Paterson, New Jersey, has been my home since the day I was born on September 29, 1949, at the General Hospital on Market Street (where the New Roberto Clemente School now sits). When my mother (Alfreida) and father (William) brought me and my twin sister (Gail aka Sissie) home from the hospital, we lived briefly on Harrison Street before moving to 192 Fulton Place where we became the first Black family on the block. My father worked for Alpart Laundry, and my mother was a schoolteacher. They separated when I was ten years old. I saw him sporadically for the next year and a half but did not see or hear from him again until I was forty. Although he missed a large part of my life that could never be made up, he was a good father to me as I was growing up. We rekindled our relationship as best we could for a while. He even came to our home and broke bread with us on a couple of occasions. My older sons never knew him, but my younger children got to spend time with their grandfather. He passed away in 2007. My grandmother (on my mother's side), Marie Smith, lived with us for most of my formative, teen, and even young adult years until she passed in 1971. Her husband, my grandfather, Arthur Smith, died when I was two years old. He did maintenance at the old YMHA (Young Men's Hebrew Association) building on Van Houten Street where the Norman S. Weir School now sits. He was found one Monday morning drowned in the pool supposedly from a heart attack. (I believe the same pool that my daughter and son took lessons in as students at the NSW School). I never told them that story until they had both graduated from NSW.

I lived on Fulton Place until I graduated from Eastside High School in June 1966 and then enrolled at Howard University in Washington, DC. My home residence remained Fulton Place, although for the next five years, I lived in Washington, DC, for ten months out of the year. I graduated in June 1971.

I got married January 1970 to Darlene Snelling, and after graduating from college, we lived at different locations in Paterson until our separation in 1977. We were divorced in 1982 but raised two amazing sons, Darnell and Dale Jr.

I remarried in 1993 to Zina Moore and again had two beautiful children (Darien and Damani). We purchased our first home in 1995 at 289 Sherwood Avenue (where we currently reside), also in Paterson.

At the age of seventy-two (or seventy-three, depending on the release of this book), Paterson is the only home I've ever known! I never had a strong desire to leave Paterson, although the landscape has changed dramatically from when I grew up. I've only recently begun to reassess that mindset as my two older sons as well as my grandchildren (and my brother and sister-in-law) now reside in North Carolina.

My Paterson roots run very deep, and over the years, I've developed strong relationships and lifelong friendships through my membership at First A.M.E. Zion Church, where I was baptized as a baby; the Delta Mu Lambda Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc., where I was inducted on June 9, 1973; as well as my involvement with various community organizations and youth programs. I was also employed for thirty-seven years as a school social worker with the Paterson Public Schools before retiring on July 1, 2010.

While growing up in the fifties and sixties, discrimination and racism was rampant throughout the United States and Paterson was probably no different, although I personally don't remember experiencing it firsthand. Maybe I was just too young or naive. I don't even remember being the first Black family to move on Fulton Place but was later told by my mother when I became an adult. I do remember all my friends, growing up, were White. That gradually changed as more and more White families chose to relocate to the suburbs or to a completely different state.

One of my best friends growing up was Bobby Tomlin, who lived directly across the street from us at 193 Fulton Place. He was White, and our families were very close. We played baseball together (either in his backyard or on our driveway). He was a New York Yankees fan, and I was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. I remember how we used to cut out each team's lineups from the sports page in the Paterson newspaper, tape them to the wall, and pretend we were one of the players when it was our turn to bat. We also played with each other's train sets. Our fathers had purchased trains for us around the same time and then built elaborate scenery for our sets by themselves. We both thought we had the best train sets in the world.

By the time all the White families on the block had moved away, Fulton Place, like most of the Fourth Ward in Paterson, had become predominantly Black. But an amazing thing happened. Our little section of Fulton Place between Graham Avenue (now Rosa Parks Boulevard) and Carroll Street became one big family. Outside of my good friend Bobby Tomlin, his sister Gayle, and their parents, I have a hard time remembering some of the other White families on the block. But I do remember my Black neighbors: the Wilsons, Parkers, McCoys, Wises, Garris, Johnsons, Tallys, and so many more.

Harvey Wise became my closest friend. We attended Boy Scouts together, shared sleepovers at each other's homes (where his father introduced me to fried apples for breakfast), played Little League and junior development baseball together, and even spent hours at the Wrigley Park on Lawrence Place with our dogs, Princess and Duchess—two fox terriers who were sisters from the same litter as puppies. I remember watching Mrs. Parker make her amazing homemade ice cream and tasting her warm homemade rolls (with butter) or playing wall ball on the wall in front of 178 Fulton Place where the McCoy family lived. The girls on the block played double Dutch, hopscotch, and jacks. The boys rode bicycles like we were a motorcycle club. We tied balloons to the spokes in the wheels, which made the bikes really sound like motorcycles. We played pool in Madison Garris's basement where he introduced me to my first peanut butter and banana (and sometimes mayonnaise) sandwich. I remember my neighbor and good friend George Wilson, who was maybe the oldest on the block, helping me and my sister catch grasshoppers when we were young because he had no fear and we were scared to death. I remember spinning tops, stick ball, and street races. I was pretty fast but could never beat William Mike Johnson who was the fastest on the block. He later, as an adult, became owner of Mike's Car Wash on East Twenty-Fourth Street. I was also the best man at his wedding. The brother could sing too! It hurt a lot when he passed away!

I remember how on so many occasions a group of us from the block would walk to Eastside Park to play homerun derby on the fenced in little league field. Butch McCoy would hit the most homeruns, but George Wilson would hit them the farthest, even while holding the bat cross handed.

And when the streetlights came on, everything came to a screeching halt as back then, that was the universal sign that it was time to go home (although my mom had to stand on the porch more than a few times and yell for me and my sister to come home). That was because as we got a little older, the wall in front of 173 Fulton Place became the hangout for everybody. There was a telephone pole. There with a streetlamp, and we would harmonize under the streetlamp like we were some famous recording groups. Our favorite song was What's Your Name?

(I remember riding my bike years later, as an adult, up Fulton Place and stopping at our wall as the memories flooded my spirit. What was amazing, though, was the wall that back in the day seemed to hold the entire block had shrunk to where when I sat on it, there was hardly any room left for another person.)

We didn't realize it at the time, but Fulton Place was our little oasis. We were family! But to us, we were just kids having fun OUTDOORS with no technology!

Paterson will always be my home.

Acknowledgments

I, first, must give honor to God for once again providing the opportunity, knowledge, resources, and time to complete this project. TGBTG!

With that said, I would be remiss if I didn't also acknowledge and thank all the willing participants represented in this book. And I must emphasize the fact that every single person was indeed a willing participant. I was humbled. Their stories turned out to be a blessing I had not anticipated.

My good friend and fellow Divine 9 member Felix Gil (Omega Psi Phi) for his amazing photography skills. He was the photographer for my first book as well.

As always, my wife and children who supported me throughout this project as I needed to sequester in the basement of our home many days and nights working on the manuscript. Instead of complaining about the disconnect, I would get periodic visits to see how things were going. Love, family style!

To my many friends who I needed to bounce ideas off regarding the direction of my book, I thank you for all your constructive feedback. It surely helped.

And finally, my older (by four minutes) twin sister, Gail Marie Sissie Van Rensalier. For those who know me, it is a well-known fact that my computer skills are limited to say the least. My sister, on the other hand, not only has the skills but also the creativity to accentuate her abilities on the computer. So when I needed some creative ideas for the book cover, a representative manuscript to send to the publisher, which included adjusted font, organized content, and uploaded participant photos, she was there! And even though she's only four minutes older than me, her abilities in that respect are four light-years ahead of mine. Thanks, sis!

Spontaneous Selection

Paterson, New Jersey in 2022 is one of the most ethnically diverse cities in the entire United States. The diversity, though, is not limited to ethnicity as Paterson is made up of individuals from all educational, economic, religious, and social backgrounds.

This became the impetus for writing Up Close and Paterson because aside from the wide range of diverse cultures, I found that the one common denominator was everyone had a personal story to tell about their own lives but more importantly, about their life as a resident of Paterson, New Jersey.

With that said and having been born and raised in Paterson myself, I knew that my many connections to the community through the public school system, the Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc., and my church would give me a plethora of possible candidates for my book.

What that created for me right from the start was the anxiety of how I would go about selecting individuals who could adequately capsulate what I was attempting to portray. In other words, who should I choose to be in my book? A dubious task for sure because there were so many persons, former colleagues, friends, community activists, politicians, clergy, fraternity brothers, even relatives to select from.

If I am completely honest, one of my initial fears was inadvertently bruising the ego of someone who would have wanted to be (and maybe should have been) selected for my book. I kept visualizing someone after purchasing a copy of my book commenting to themselves or others, I can't believe Skip wrote a book about Paterson and didn't include ——!

But I found a simple solution, one that I've used many times in my life when faced with similar situations. I prayed about it and decided to, paraphrasing my favorite scripture (Proverbs 3:5 & 6), acknowledge the Lord in all thy ways, and He will direct your path.

I had already selected a small diverse group of individuals that I planned to ask as well as contacting Mayor André Sayegh to see if he could possibly provide persons with Muslim heritage from his wide range of constituents.

The rest, I decided, would be through spontaneous selection guided and directed by God. For those who are believers, I don't need to explain any further. For those who are not believers, I don't need to explain any further.

The result, bottom line, is I have what I feel is a strong assemblage of diverse Patersonians with very candid stories of themselves and varying depictions of the city they grew up in or now call home.

My prayer is that when you read my book, you will embrace their stories and not dwell on who should have been in the book (even if that person is you).

Amen?

Anna (Pelosi) Adams

Teacher, Administrator, Coach

John F. Kennedy High School Hall of Fame

Patersonian

It has always been about the kids.

AUTHOR'S PROLOGUE: She was born at the St. Joseph's Hospital in Paterson, New Jersey. Her father (Biagio Pelosi) and mother (Antonia Pelosi) were both from Italy, including her brother, John. Her father was a textile worker, and her mother a seamstress. She was married in 1980 to Richard Adams, and they have two sons: Richard, Jr. and Robert Adams.

Growing up in the Hillcrest section of Paterson, she loved playing all kinds of sports. But with few exceptions, she played exclusively with the guys in the neighborhood. Girl activities outside sports never interested her much, and because it wasn't your normal situation, her parents frowned upon it, although for her, it was very natural. Her love for sports, her fierce competitiveness, and her fearless will to face unpopular challenges would bode well for her later in life as she established herself as one of the premier coaches and referees in the State of New Jersey as well as a teacher and district administrator who always had at heart the best interest of her kids.

This is Anna (Pelosi) Adams, up close and Paterson.

I began my education at School #5. My family lived on Ryle Avenue and Jasper Street before moving to Totowa Avenue right across the street from School #5. Back then, there were apple orchids in the Hillcrest section of Paterson where we would go to pick apples. My father became acquainted with the owners of the orchids, and when he heard they were looking to sell, he bought the property. He and my mother saved their money for years and eventually had a house built on Edmund Avenue, which we eventually moved into after briefly living on Albion Avenue.

My parents moved to Paterson from Italy when my brother, John, was only four years old and they couldn't speak a word of English. My grandfather, who was born in Paterson, shared with me that back in the day, Europeans would come to America, have children, and then move back to their countries. This enabled their children to return to the United States as naturalized citizens because they now had documentation of them being born here. According to my grandfather, this practice was very commonplace back then.

My mother moved from Italy to Paterson in 1952 and my father around 1953 through 1954. My mother had family here that helped her get settled into her first apartment. Not sure where that was. My dad and brother followed my mother to the US on a ship/voyager. Mom was a seamstress in the Paterson mills right on Ryle Avenue. She worked for Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein. That's how good she was. Any item that left the factory had to be checked and approved by my mother before it was shipped out. Also, she was the one who would sew the mink collars onto the dress coats that were extremely popular back then. She did this from 1952 until the day she retired.

My father was a textile printer at Allied Textiles on Van Houten Street right next to the falls. He worked there until retirement age and then being the workaholic he was, took on part-time jobs at Pathmark and then Shoprite. He held those jobs for almost twenty years AFTER retiring from Allied.

I transferred from School #5 to School #27, where I graduated from in 1969 after which I attended John F. Kennedy High School.

Growing up as a kid in Paterson, I was always on the streets playing ball with the guys, which got me in trouble with my parents because I was the only girl out there doing that. Back then, your parents knew everything you did and who you did it with. They couldn't afford a car at the time, so they both walked home from work or took the bus. By the time they arrived home, they knew everything I had done through the parents' neighborhood pipeline. Most of the time, I was playing football, stickball, or basketball down in the playgrounds of St. Mary's or St. Bonaventure's schools. I even played organized recreational baseball with the guys, second base and shortstop, which was hard on my parents because to them, it was not culturally acceptable. I'm convinced that playing sports with the guys got me into trouble, but it also kept me out of trouble at the same time.

Besides sports, we did a little bit of everything else, like double Dutch and hopscotch behind School #5. Everything was competitive. I used to sneak into Hinchliffe Stadium as a child to watch my brother practice football. His nickname for me back then was Runt. Having grown up practically across the street from Hinchliffe Stadium, we went to every event they had: car shows, boxing, seeing Lou Costello perform, and of course, baseball. We used to climb up the hill to Barbizon Fashion Company where there was a heliport and sit on the edge of the cliff to watch the games at the stadium as well as all the shows for free, including the fireworks on the Fourth of July. That was our spot. And just like playing ball with the guys, I would get into trouble with my parents because girls just didn't do things like climbing hills and sitting on cliffs. But that's who I was.

As a student at School #27, I received Presidential Fitness Awards every year because I had serious abilities and skills, but my Italian parents had no idea where to direct me to take advantage of those skills. They were only interested in my academics. My brother was eight years older than me, so he was doing his own thing. It was Pete Festa, one of my physical education teachers at School #27, who guided me toward playing several sports. By the time I enrolled at Kennedy High School, he had already told the coaches to keep an eye out for me, even though at the time, there weren't many girl sports teams. The only sports were basketball, softball, and track-and-field. Everything else was in the developing stages as clubs.

The thing I loved most about going to Kennedy back then was all my girls who I played sports and hung out with at School #5 were there. When I was attending School #27, I mostly spent time together with the guys because the girls wore pantyhose and stayed in one corner of the playground, just watching the guys play. So the only thing they liked about me was I had an in with the guys and they always wanted me to put in a good word for them. It was as if I was their personal matchmaker. But as far as me becoming part of their clique or in crowd, that never happened. So at Kennedy, I naturally hooked up with my girls from School #5. Life was good!

I played softball and basketball all four years at Kennedy. I graduated in 1973 and enrolled the following September at William Paterson College, which became William Paterson University by my senior year. I graduated in 1977 with a major in physical education and health. While I was a student at WPU, I had also been working part time at Pathmark. Prior to graduating, I received a call from my old fifth-grade teacher from School #27, Maureen Durget, who was now the director of the Department of Human Resources for the Paterson School District. She knew my mom, so we had remained friends over the years. I think because I mainly spent time together with the guys and was not too popular with the girls back then, Ms. Durget gravitated to me and took me under her wing because she could see my abilities in academia and athletics. We developed a remarkably close relationship. I consider her to be one of my all-time favorite teachers.

When she reached out to me, I hadn't spoken to her in maybe three or four years, so I was a little surprised when she called me at home. She asked very bluntly, Annie, did you graduate yet? At first, I didn't even recognize her voice (some of my former teachers called me Annie). Once I realized who I was talking to, I told her I was graduating in a few weeks. She told me to come see her after I graduated and to bring my résumé to the board of education building on Church Street.

I had already begun sending out my résumés to different school districts and had interviews set up with Wayne and Paramus School Districts. Both districts had called me back for a second interview, but I believe it was just to throw a ringer into their interviewing competition. Neither district had any intention of hiring someone from Paterson. It was never verbalized that way, but to me, it was obvious and in my mind, had discrimination written all over it.

So I went to see Ms. Durget and was told there were two physical education teacher positions available in Paterson, one in an elementary school and the other in a high school. At the time, Joe Kayel was the physical education coordinator/supervisor. I told Ms Durget I preferred the high school because I eventually wanted to coach at that level. She said it was fine with her, except the high school position was at Eastside High School and she knew I was a former Kennedy High School student and the rivalry between the two schools was legendary. She asked if I was sure I wanted to work at Eastside, and when I said yes, she said she would give me the option of working there for two weeks and if I didn't like it, she would transfer me to the elementary school.

She then called in Mr. Kayel and announces she had filled the vacancy at Eastside, and his response was (and I'll never forget it), With her? She won't last two weeks!

Ms. Durget, who knew me from School #27, tells Kayel, You don't know Annie! So I was hired for my two-week trial.

What I was not told after my hire was that the Paterson Public Schools was in the middle of a major teacher's strike, and when I arrived at Eastside my first day, I was met with very vocal teachers on the picket lines in front of the school entrance. The PEA (Paterson Education Association) officers were being arrested. Not knowing what I should do, I called Ms. Durget who said I should just go into the building since it was my first day. At the same time, there were teachers who I had just met telling me I should not go in. I went in anyway and was immediately labeled as a SCAB. I didn't even know what a scab was. All I know is when I crossed the picket line to enter the building, I was called all kinds of names and they weren't welcoming names. (I was put on the scab list for the entire year.) When I finally got inside the building, I was met by the chairperson of the physical education department, Ms. Helene Donow, who told me she would meet me at another entrance to the building the next day so I wouldn't have to be harassed by picketing staff. It was September 1977. She also explained that I was replacing a teacher on family leave, so the position may not be permanent because it wasn't clear if the teacher would be returning once she had her baby.

And to exasperate the whole situation, when the chairperson of the physical education department at Kennedy High School, Ms. Emily Ross-Rome, found out I had taken a job at rival Eastside, she became angry because she knew I was a former Kennedy Knight and felt I should be working at my alma mater. The teachers at Eastside felt the exact same way when they found out I was a Kennedy graduate. The rivalry was thick! So I was out there on a physical education island. Eastside didn't want me because I was a Kennedy graduate, and Kennedy was mad because I had the audacity to take a position at Eastside. You can't make this stuff up!

I decided to bear it all and put in my two weeks to prove to Joe Kayel that I belonged. I wound up being there for the next ten years! It was probably the best teaching experience of my life. It laid the foundation for my entire teaching and administrative career. Our classes were large with one hundred kids in a class, and I would have to stand on a table and teach so the students could see me (height has never been one of my strong suits). The physical education department at Eastside was great.

During my tenure at Eastside, I became the coach for the girls' softball team as well as referee for girls' Federation High School volleyball games. But becoming the softball team coach came with drama I wasn't expecting. For the first time in my life, being a White female became an issue. It had already been decided by some that because of my color, I wouldn't be able to manage—more less coach—a team made up primarily of Black and Hispanic females. The outgoing coach, who was an older Black male, made it quite clear that he was not happy with me becoming the head coach. The team hadn't won a single game in the two previous seasons, but there were still those who felt I shouldn't be taking the head coaching position away from an established faculty member, who by the way was beloved by his players. I assured them that I did not ask for the job but had been approached on different occasions by different persons to consider it. I was happy refereeing and wanted to secure my license to continue to ref various sports.

In 1979, I was approached by the athletic director at Eastside to again consider the coaching position. I told him that I didn't want to get involved in all the politics. I was even confronted by the Black coach who told me that I didn't know how to coach Black ballplayers. I tried to explain to him that I was raised in Paterson and had played ball with Black and White girls my entire life and there is no difference. The game is still the game.

The athletic director suggested I speak with the captain of the team, who was an outstanding player besides having the respect of the entire team. She was the first African American female to receive a full scholarship to Rutgers for softball. If after speaking with her I still didn't want the job, he would find someone else. I was very upset and confused because I didn't want to be the cause of any animosity within the department, and everything was pointing in that direction. I just wanted to coach.

So I spoke with the team captain and tried to make her understand that I wasn't trying to take anyone's job. She explained that the current coach was like a father figure to the girls. I responded how much I could respect that, but the team still wasn't winning, and I assured her if I became coach, we would win. I didn't predict any numbers but promised the team would win games. I felt comfortable doing that because only one win would have been an improvement over last season. The captain confessed that the girls were a little anxious because I was new to the school and they didn't even know me. She felt that I wouldn't be able to relate to them. She never mentioned color, but I knew that's what she meant. I told her to give me a year and once again promised that we would win games. She went back and spoke to the team, and they agreed to give me a shot for one year. In the meantime, the current coach had been fired by the athletic director, so the team now needed a new coach anyway. And I was more than qualified.

After I was officially hired, the first thing I did was bring in an assistant coach who just happened to be a Black female and a friend of mine. We also played summer softball against each other. This surprised a lot of people, but besides being an excellent ballplayer in her own right, I thought the optics was necessary and would smooth my transition to head coach just a little—my own version of politics.

I started my coaching career at Eastside in January 1979 with morning practices and skill technique sessions, which were both not extremely popular and ultimately not well attended at first. It was obvious that there were still some lingering feelings about their beloved coach being replaced by this White woman. I expected as much so I didn't make a big deal about it, but I told those who came to the practices whatever team we put on the field was going to win. I was going to build the team from the ground up and into legitimate softball players, not just recreational players. We practiced in the school's gym in the morning and at Putnam Oval after school where there were rocks, beer bottles, glass, and not so conveniently located across the street from a bar.

When the season started, something miraculous happened: We started to win games. The old coach began showing up to our games but not to support the team. He began antagonizing the girls until they got fed up and suggested he not come to any more games if he wasn't going to support them. I totally respected that.

During my first year as coach, the team won fifteen games, qualified for the Passaic County Tournament, but lost in the first round. (I knew the coaches in the county, and they congratulated our success but with a sneer, maybe next year.) The players were upset, as was I, but it occurred to me that besides making them better ballplayers, I now had to completely change a mindset that had developed over the years with Eastside softball players and the suburban schools they played against. Whenever they would play against White teams, they automatically had a losing attitude. It was as if they had already accepted defeat because if the White teams had better ball fields, better equipment, and better uniforms, then they must be a better team. I had to convince my girls that none of that had anything to do with superior ability just like us not having the best stuff had anything to do with inferior ability. We had old uniforms and bought our own cleats and gloves (some of which I personally purchased). The only things we received from our school district were new socks (to go with the old uniforms) and some new equipment. My coaching stipend at the time was only $800 a season.

At the end of the school year, I convinced the girls to play recreational ball during the following summer so they would be better prepared for next season. When that season finally arrived, we began winning again and qualified for the Passaic County tournament, but this time, we won the entire tournament. We were Passaic County champions during my second year as coach! The sneers became humble grins on the part of some of my counterparts. In fact, Eastside won four different county championships that same school year (1980 to 1981), the first school in New Jersey ever to do that. The girls won softball along with track-and-field, and the boys won basketball and baseball. That year, we won the Passaic County championship as well as the New Jersey State sectional Group IV championship. But I couldn't coach Black girls!

Every time I saw Joe Kayel after that, I would put up two fingers to remind him of the two weeks he initially predicted I wouldn't last at Eastside. All he could do was smile.

Just as we were building up momentum and confidence, a freak accident put an end to my coaching career. While we were practicing for the tournaments, my centerfielder and captain threw a ball from centerfield and unintentionally nailed me in the face and broke my nose. It was a bad break that required surgery, but I had to wait until after the season if I wanted to coach because the surgery and recovery would have prevented me from being anywhere near the field. I remember my player felt so bad that she actually drove me in MY car to the hospital without a license!

After we won the sectional championship, I had the surgery done because I was having a tough time breathing. That's when the doctor told me that I couldn't afford to be hit again because it could cause irreparable damage. Obviously because I was a physical education teacher and coach, the chances of