Buffalo in the ’60s: Beatlemania in the Queen City

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

The concept of the American Teenager as we know it today is a relatively new one.

(Buffalo Stories archives)

In the simplest of terms, after decades of economic depression and war, young people of the late 1940s had less responsibility, more economic freedom and a growing segment of pop culture being cultivated to employ and take advantage of that free time and free cash.

For 70 years, more mature generations have been panning the choices of teenage girls and especially the fervor with which they make those choices. The names change, but from Frank Sinatra to Justin Bieber, rigid-minded adults can’t understand all the swooning over (some singer) with (some bizarre haircut, bizarre dance, etc.).

Frank Sinatra sang with Tommy Dorsey Orchestra and his popularity exploded when he became a singing front man himself. His young fans, bobbysoxers, were the first teenagers to swoon in force at the voice of a matinee idol and singing sensation. In Buffalo, radio programs and downtown shoe sales were targeted directly to bobbysoxers just after the war.
Frank Sinatra sang with Tommy Dorsey Orchestra and his popularity exploded when he became a singing front man himself. His young fans, bobbysoxers, were the first teenagers to swoon in force at the voice of a matinee idol and singing sensation. In Buffalo, radio programs and downtown shoe sales were targeted directly to bobbysoxers just after the war. (Buffalo Stories archives)

By 1964, American fuddy-duddies had withstood the waves of bobbysoxers and Elvis’ wagging hips — but the arrival of a moppy-headed quartet of singers from England took the genre up another notch.

If there’s a start date for Beatlemania, you might choose Feb. 9, 1964 — the date of the band’s first appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” About 60 percent of American televisions were tuned to the performance of the nation’s No. 1 top single, “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”

Immediately, adults started to try to make sense of the mania.

Buffalo Evening News headline, 1964. Buffalo Stories archives
Buffalo Evening News headline, 1964. (Buffalo Stories archives)

In a matrix that has repeated itself time and time again as American Pop Culture has evolved, the aversion to the Beatles was just as strong as the fanaticism of their young followers.

Buffalo Evening News, 1964. Buffalo Stories archives
Buffalo Evening News, 1964. (Buffalo Stories archives)

What was it about the Beatles? everyone seemed to want to know. Was it the haircuts, asked the Courier-Express’ “Enquiring Reporter” of Western New York high school students?

One boy from Cardinal O’Hara High School was convinced that it was “The Beatles’ weird looks more than their musical ability” that made them popular. Many others agreed, but said it was the combination of talent and different looks that made the Beatles “just far out.”

Buffalo Courier-Express, Buffalo Stories archives
Buffalo Courier-Express. (Buffalo Stories archives)

Whether you loved the Beatles or hated them, they were clearly a growing economic force to be reckoned with.

02-sep-1964-beatlemania-at

It wasn’t just with the expected idea of record sales at places like Twin Fair, more staid institutions such as AM&A’s were offering “The Beatle Bob” in their downtown and branch store beauty salons. Hengerer’s was selling Beatles records and wigs.

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beatles-in-courier-1964-6

A month after the group’s first appearance on Ed Sullivan, a couple of doors down from Shea’s Buffalo, the Paramount Theatre sold out a weekend’s worth of closed-circuit showings of a Beatles concert.

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Girls scream for The Beatles on the big screen at the Paramount Theatre, March, 1964. Buffalo Stories archives
Girls scream for The Beatles on the big screen at the Paramount Theatre, March, 1964. (Buffalo Stories archives)

Eighteen uniformed Buffalo Police officers were hired to help keep the peace among the more than 2,500 teens who showed up to watch the show at the Paramount, which was hosted by WKBW disc jockey Joey Reynolds. The only slight hint of misbehavior on the part of Beatles fans came when the infamous rabble-rouser Reynolds declared on the stage, “I hate the Beatles!” and he was pelted with jellybeans.

Beatlemania continued at a fever pitch through all of 1964 and 1965.

The Mods from Buffalo Teen News magazine. Buffalo Stories archives.
The Mods, formerly “The Buffalo Beetles” from Buffalo Teen News magazine. (Buffalo Stories archives.)

Local bands like the Buffalo Beetles, later renamed the Mods, enjoyed popularity and even their own records on the radio. After the July, 1964 release of The Beatles’ first film “A Hard Day’s Night,” the summer of 1965 saw the release of the Beatles’ second movie, “Help!,” which opened at Shea’s before moving onto the smaller theaters and the drive-ins.

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The Beatles also played a concert at Toronto’s Maple Leaf Gardens in August 1965. There were at least a couple of dozen Buffalonians in attendance courtesy of the WKBW/Orange Crush Beatles caravan, hosted by Danny Neaverth.

Buffalo Stories archives

Buffalo Stories archives

Sixteen-year-old Jay Burch of Orchard Park High School described Beatlemania from the midst of it in 1964 this way: “The Beatles’ singing is OK, but it’s the haircuts and dress that make them standouts. … The Beatles are different. They got a good gimmick and made it work.”

Many of Buffalo’s Beatles dreams finally came true on Oct. 22, 2015, when Paul McCartney made his first appearance in Buffalo, singing songs that many in the audience had first heard 51 ½ years earlier for the first time on a Sunday evening with Ed Sullivan.

Paul McCartney during his 2015 show at First Niagara Center. (Sharon Cantillon/Buffalo News)
Paul McCartney during his 2015 show at First Niagara Center. (Sharon Cantillon/Buffalo News)

Erie Canal, ‘Atlantic’s back door,’ opened 191 years ago

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

Buffalo became “the Atlantic’s back door” when the Erie Canal opened for business 191 years ago today.

Buffalo Harbor in 1825.

The village of Buffalo was a town of about 2,400 at the time. When a ceremonial start to the digging of the canal in Buffalo was held in 1823, everyone in the town and surrounding villages like Black Rock and Buffalo Plains (now both a part of the City of Buffalo) was invited to come celebrate. They were also asked to bring their tools and plow animals.

The Village of Buffalo, 1825.
The Village of Buffalo, 1825.

The effort was a community one. A group of men from the Buffalo Plains — now the area along Main Street from Niagara Falls Boulevard to Sisters Hospital — drove a team of 12 oxen down to the area that is now Canalside to start digging.

The men and the animals worked all day, and the only payment was found flowing from the barrels of pure rye whiskey set up along what was destined to become the banks of the Erie Canal.

“Our whiskey then was the pure article, made from rye, without adulteration,” wrote pioneer Buffalonian William Hodge, who remembered the events from when he was a boy. “Along the line of the canal, at convenient distances, was to be found another barrel of whiskey, pure old rye, with part of the head cut out and tin dipper lying by and all were expected to help themselves.”

A little more than two years later, on Oct. 26, 1825, the entire town poured back into that same area for the gala opening of this marvel of modern engineering.

Buffalo from Lake Erie, including the lighthouse, 1823
Buffalo from Lake Erie, including the lighthouse, 1823

That morning, the Village of Buffalo echoed with cannon fire at 9 a.m., the official start of the parade to the canal terminus. A band led the way for a cadre of soldiers and sailors, followed by the spade-carrying laborers who did most of the digging, followed by hundreds of citizens. At the end of the parade was a carriage carrying Gov. DeWitt Clinton and Sen. Samuel Wilkeson — whose work in dredging Buffalo Harbor made the entire event possible.

With a ceremonial jug of water pulled from Lake Erie in tow, Gov. Clinton climbed aboard “The Seneca Chief” bound for New York City at exactly 10 a.m.

Waiting to hear the previous cannon. Buffalo Stories archives
Waiting to hear the previous cannon. (Buffalo Stories archives)

A cannon fired as the boat left, and in the days before telephone or even telegraph, news of the successful start of the journey was sent to Albany by a relay of cannon fire. Each time a cannon shot was heard by an artilleryman slightly further up the canal, he’d fire a shot. The news traveled 280 miles in a mind-boggling hour and 40 minutes.

The Seneca Chief and Gov. Clinton arrived in New York City on Nov. 4, 1825. That ceremonial jug of Lake Erie water was poured into the Atlantic for the wedding of the waters and Buffalo’s fate was sealed as the east’s last stop on the way to the American West.

Torn-Down Tuesday: The toboggan run at Delaware Park

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

Delaware Park toboggan run, late 20s/early 30s. (Buffalo Stories archives)

Over the last week or so, most Western New Yorkers have turned on the furnace for the first time since opening up the windows to air out the house last spring.

With the heat on, tobogganing can’t be too far behind — but probably not in this spot in Delaware Park.

As the bronze-cast exact replica of Michelangelo’s David looks on, this 1930 image shows dozens of winter sport lovers enjoying a permanent sled track.

Eighty-six or so Buffalo winters later, this hill is still park land, but for the last 60 of those winters the top of the hill is a bit more difficult to get to as the Scajaquada Expressway and its on ramps have cars whizzing by.

Belva Lockwood: Niagara County native and America’s first female presidential candidate

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

In July, Hillary Clinton made history when she became the first woman to be nominated for president by a major political party. But she isn’t the first woman to run for president — and many may not realize that the first woman to do so came from Western New York.

That woman was Belva Lockwood.

Born poor and without any real prospects in rural Niagara County, through necessity and a strong sense of self, Belva Lockwood went from a farmer’s wife to the leading women’s rights advocate to first female presidential candidate.

Western New York was the American frontier when Belva Bennett was born in a log cabin in the Niagara County Town of Royalton in 1830. The daughter of a farmer, she married a farmer at 17. When her husband died a few years later, she — against the advice of friends and family — went to Genesee College so she could support her young daughter by becoming a teacher.

Returning to Niagara County with a degree, she was offered a teaching job in her native Royalton.  She refused the job after only being offered half the salary of the men who were doing the same job.

She eventually accepted the role of preceptress at Lockport Union School, where she began administering her belief that boys and girls should receive the same education. “Much indignation was aroused among many of the prim folk in the village,” it was written in one Niagara County history. She was called “that crazy teacher,” and efforts to have her fired were blocked by female students and their families who supported her.

She was still being paid less than her male counterparts, and that didn’t sit well with Lockwood.

Although already a dynamic speaker and very active in the equal rights movement, she thought she’d be a more effective voice for equality if she became a lawyer. After several rejected law school applications, the National Law School in Washington welcomed her as a student.

Belva Lockwood poses in front of the US Capitol, 1915. Library of Congress.

Belva Lockwood poses in front of the U.S. Capitol in 1915. (Library of Congress)

After a struggle to get the diploma she had earned certified by the college, she was finally admitted to the bar in 1873 and began work in the courtroom and as a lobbyist. Among her early accomplishments were convincing Congress to pass a law mandating that the federal government pay men and women equal wages for the same type of work. Another law she lobbied for allowed mothers to have custody rights equal to fathers.

It was national news when she lobbied Congress to pass a law allowing women to argue before the Supreme Court. She was successful and, indeed, became the first woman to argue a case before the nation’s highest court. For 13 years, she never missed a weekday in court, and was always, she said, “treated like a gentleman” at the bar.

Clearly being the only female practicing attorney in the nation’s capital would have garnered attention, but Lockwood’s style added to her renown. She caused an uproar by becoming the first woman to ever ride a tricycle on the streets of Washington, using the newly invented machine to get to and from court. She said the tricycle was “just the thing” she needed to avoid the walk home after a long day, adding that the men of Washington “shouldn’t have all the fun to themselves.”

In 1884, at the San Francisco convention of the Equal Rights Party, Lockwood was nominated for president of the United States. The nomination came 36 years before the Constitution was amended to guarantee women the right to vote, but Lockwood’s campaign was vigorous, if not successful. Another Western New Yorker, Grover Cleveland, ultimately won the race.

Jokes and puns about Lockwood and the fact that she took up smoking a pipe during the campaign took up more space in The Buffalo Evening News (and most newspapers) than her ideas for women and the country.

The Buffalo Evening News coverage of Belva Lockwoods Presidential campaign was dismissive (above), but coverage in the Buffalo Times (below) was nasty.

The Buffalo Evening News’ coverage of Belva Lockwood’s Presidential campaign was dismissive (above), but coverage in the Buffalo Times (below) was nasty.

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A straw poll was taken on the train ride between Gardenville (West Seneca) and Buffalo in the runup to the election. It was no surprise that Buffalo’s adopted son Grover Cleveland led with 200 votes, Republican James Blaine with 47, and Belva Lockwood with six.

Lockwood ran again in 1888, and while the jokes continued, this time her message received more attention.

Presidential candidates Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, and Belva Lockwood all enjoy some manner of sport, as reported in the Buffalo Evening News, 1888.

Presidential candidates Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison and Belva Lockwood all enjoyed some manner of sport, as reported in the Buffalo Evening News, 1888.

While most editorializing in The News and most papers was slanted against Lockwood, The News did run a two-column interview with the Western New Yorker called “Belva Lockwood at home,” complete with a drawing of her.

Buffalo Evening News, August, 1888

Buffalo Evening News, August 1888.

“She possesses an indefinable good humor and gentle goodwill, not unmixed with an old-school grace that is winning rather than remarkable.”

“She does not pretend to style in dress, never did, but there is none of the soiled tawdryness of attire of some gentlewomen who utterly repudiate her view, neither the aggressive masculinity which many of her own school of thought affect.

“She has all her life been a scholarly, intellectual woman from choice, the instinct—as so many leading instincts are—prenatal, the result of a mother’s yearnings in that direction during the year of her baby’s birth. In her girlhood she was accustomed to have exalted periods of mentality, in which arguments and philosophies of life and humanity would work within her without any apparent cause or assistance. Many a time has her mother’s gentle ‘Belva Bennett’ brought back her dishwater or her needle from these transports.

“She says this particularly masculine calling has been easy work for her, her instincts being all argumentative and judicial, and a fluent speech serving as a useful handmaid in their expression.”

Acknowledging that many men and some women looked at her candidacy as a joke, Lockwood told the interviewer that her goal was not tied to her ambition to live in the White House, but to call attention to the plight of women and to grab the attention of other women from her bully pulpit.

That joking — some of which is reprinted above — never much bothered Lockwood, save once. One Washington reporter was “particularly fresh” about her in his column, so she rode her tricycle — which the writer had called “a ridiculous machine” — over to the paper to speak with him.

“Amid the nudges, punches and winks of ‘the boys,’ she was assured that the young writer had just stepped out, would be gone for a week, won’t be back til next month,” reported The News. She fulfilled her intention in the visit anyway and left the scribe flowers and a note “commending his cleverness, but wishing him success in better business.” The writer was never “fresh” again.

Lockwood’s argument against chaperonage — the idea that a woman needs to be supervised and tended to by a male relative — was radical when it was written in The News in 1888, but it’s something she fought for until she died in 1917.

“She objects to chaperonage, or rather the necessity for it, claiming that there is such a thing as training boys and girls with an equal sense of moral responsibility, self-control and desire for the good of the race,” so as to make chaperonage unnecessary.

The legal and moral idea of a woman needing a chaperone died long ago, but the rest of what she talked about there — the notion of the equal training and treatment of boys and girls — remains a topic of discussion 128 years and 32 presidential elections later.

President Truman visits Buffalo, 1962

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

A decade after leaving the White House, Harry S. Truman spent 38 hours in Buffalo during the spring of 1962.

The highlight of the trip was an honorary doctorate from Canisius College. During an address at the Jesuit college, Truman spoke for 30 minutes, mostly about the Cold War.

“You can make agreements with them but the record shows it won’t do any good.  I wouldn’t trust them across the street even if I could see them,” said Truman. He also said that Josef Stalin, who died in 1953, and the Soviets lied to him personally at least 32 times.

He also touched on “the race for space” and continued nuclear development and testing, saying all were vital, likening the work being done to that of Thomas Edison.

“If he had stopped then, we’d be sitting around here in candlelight,” Truman told about 300 students in attendance.

Truman told reporters that he’d never had so many intelligent questions asked of him as he did by the students of Canisius. “And I have been to Yale, Harvard, Columbia and my own University of Missouri,” he said as he smiled.

Former President Harry S Truman takes one of his famous strolls along Delaware Avenue, accompanied by Buffalo Police Detective Sgt. Joseph McCarthy. In the background is the Statler Garage, a parking ramp fronted with street level retail, kitty-corner from the Hotel Statler at the corner of West Mohawk and Delaware. It was torn down in 1992.
Former President Harry S. Truman takes one of his famous strolls along Delaware Avenue, accompanied by Buffalo Police Detective Sgt. Joseph McCarthy. In the background is the Statler Garage, a parking ramp fronted with street level retail, kitty-corner from the Hotel Statler at the corner of West Mohawk and Delaware. It was torn down in 1992. (Buffalo Stories archives)

Among the tough questions was one about the famous letter “threatening the manhood” of a Washington Post music critic who had panned his daughter’s singing. It was written on White House stationery.

“Both my wife and daughter wept after that. They’d said that I ruined them. But in the 1948 election there wasn’t a man with a daughter who didn’t vote for me. It isn’t what I did it for, but that’s the way it worked out.”

That was near the end of the student questions.  “I stood there an hour answering their questions and when they got too tough, I quit,” said Truman.

What it looked like Wednesday: St. Margaret’s Church, 1930s

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

Three different buildings have served as St. Margaret’s church since Fr. Thomas Timmons was assigned to start a parish on a swampy plot of land in the growing Hertel Avenue/North Park neighborhood in 1916.

Rev. Thomas Timmons stands in front of the temporary St. Margarets Church on Hertel Ave., 1917. Buffalo Stories archives

Rev. Thomas Timmons stands in front of the temporary St. Margaret’s Church on Hertel Ave., 1917. Buffalo Stories archives

St. Margaret’s church and school, early 1930s. This building is currently under renovation into street-level retail and apartments. A façade was added to the building in the 1960s for the use of the school after the current St. Margaret’s church building was built in 1957.

Early the following year, a temporary church was consecrated and open to serve the Catholics in North Buffalo.

Interior of the temporary St. Margarets Church. 1917. Buffalo Stories archives.

Interior of the temporary St. Margaret’s Church. 1917. Buffalo Stories archives.

Within a year, the cornerstone was laid for the second St. Margaret’s Church. This is the building which was most recently St. Margaret’s School, and is currently under development by Iskalo to create 2,000 square feet of retail space and 24 apartments.

More than 1,000 people showed up to watch Bishop Dougherty lay the cornerstone for the building that served as St. Margarets Church from 1918-1957, and school from 1918-2012. The building is now being developed into a mixed use retail and residential space. Buffalo Stories archives

More than 1,000 people showed up to watch Bishop Dougherty lay the cornerstone for the building that served as St. Margaret’s Church from 1918-1957, and school from 1918-2012. The building is now being developed into a mixed use retail and residential space. Buffalo Stories archives

The rectory was built in 1924, and the current St. Margaret’s church building was built starting in 1957.

St. Margaret's School, 2015. Buffalo News photo

St. Margaret’s School, 2015. Buffalo News photo

Torn-Down Tuesday: Mark Twain’s residence, 472 Delaware

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

Mark Twain came to Buffalo as a swashbuckling, young writer in 1869. He bought a piece of the Buffalo Express newspaper, hoping to have a home base from which he could travel to speaking engagements and write a book about his adventures out West.

Mark Twain, 1880s photo. (Buffalo Stories archives)

As a single man, he lived in boarding house in a space now swallowed up by Coca-Cola Field. Shortly into his 20-month stay in Buffalo, he married Olivia Langdon, the daughter of a wealthy Elmira coal magnate.

While it was Twain’s intention to continue to live the boarding-house life he had come to enjoy, it wasn’t to be. It wasn’t high society of the New England or New York City variety, but there were wealth and good people among what we’d today call Buffalo’s upper-middle class — plenty of those just like one of Buffalo’s other prominent citizens, Grover Cleveland.

Twain called what happened next “a first-class swindle.”

After marrying in Elmira, instead of returning to an action-filled neighborhood close to the canal and all that was happening in Buffalo, Twain and his bride were introduced to their new home on Buffalo’s most stylish and posh address — Delaware.

Mark Twain's Delaware Avenue home, as shown in 1947.
Mark Twain’s home on Delaware, as pictured in 1947. It was demolished in 1963. (Buffalo Stories archives)

The resplendent mansion was fully furnished with the finest things and a staff of servants.  One newsboy remembers the sign tacked to the front door of 472 Delaware — “Mark Twain lives here, his father-in-law pays the rent.”

Though the home was far more elegant that what he was used to, Twain might have become more comfortable in the accoutrements of Buffalo’s (and one of the country’s) finest avenues had tragedy not struck at least three times.

His wife Olivia was heartbroken when her father — and Twain’s financial backer — died after a long illness. One of Olivia’s close friends became ill while visiting her in Buffalo and died in the house. Then after the premature birth and death of their first child, the couple moved to Elmira, then to the family’s longtime home in Hartford, Conn.

The home remained a residence until it became the office of Dr. Alfred Bayliss in 1905. In 1956, after the brick had been painted white and the building was chopped up into apartments and offices, owners submitted a plan to take down the house and replace it with a $150,000 office building.

Roland Benzow, an attorney who had also served on Buffalo’s Common Council, proposed an effort to buy the building and turn it into a Twain manuscript museum.

The Buffalo Mark Twain Society, headed by Benzow, had several ideas and offers over the next handful of years trying to save the landmark — but flames of a never-determined origin sealed the structure’s fate.

When a three-alarm blaze broke out in the house on Feb. 7, 1963, newspaper headlines blared that the Mark Twain House was “saved from flames” in a “close call,” but after seven years of effort  to raise money to save the house, Buffalo’s Twain mansion was torn down. The site became a parking lot for the Cloister restaurant, which opened in the home’s still-intact carriage house and a small structure built after the fire where the carriage house once connected to the main house. After the Cloister closed, the building was home to Buffalo Business First in 1989.

One odd note from the burning of the Twain HouseRaymond Burr, TVs Perry Mason, happened to be visiting Buffalo when the structure caught fire. Before leaving Buffalo, he made arrangements for one of the bricks from the structure to be sent to him in Los Angeles after the demolition, so he could add it to his antique brick collection. Buffalo Stories archives
One odd note from the burning of the Twain House—Raymond Burr, TV’s Perry Mason, happened to be visiting Buffalo when the structure caught fire. Before leaving Buffalo, he made arrangements for one of the bricks from the structure to be sent to him in Los Angeles after the demolition, so he could add it to his antique brick collection. (Buffalo Stories archives)

Buffalo Business First moved downtown, the 1960s building was taken down in 2012, and a new $4.5 million mixed-use building named “Twain Tower” was built on the site. The home’s original carriage house still stands.

Buffalo in the ’80s: Questions we aren’t asked anymore

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

Our day-to-day lives are filled with common almost reflexive interactions we barely think about. Quite often, we barely notice when one changes or goes by the wayside.

Here is a collection of several questions that were commonly asked around Buffalo in the 1980s, but not so much today.

Paper or Plastic?

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When this photo of the Vogt Brothers and their Bells and Super Duper grocery bags appeared in The News in 1986, the accompanying story showed a city divided over the question.

What will we cover our school books in, or use to cover our turkeys to keep them moist should the paper bag go away, were among the questions asked.

Thirty years later, the paper bag is an anachronism. It’s still available, but for most it looks more like a vestige of another time rather than a way to carry your groceries home.

Many are working to give the plastic bag the same treatment. Erie County Executive Mark Poloncarz spearheaded efforts earlier this year to examine the feasibility of banning plastic bags at grocery stores.

According to grocery supply company Topco, the sale of reusable shopping bags is a $75 million market in the U.S.

Smoking or non?

For decades, this was the ubiquitous ice-breaking question posed from restaurant hostess stations — but not since 2003 in New York State.

While this question might still be asked in other places across the country, New York’s Clean Indoor Air Act banned smoking in all public places in the state 13 years ago.

Where d’ya live?

Buffalo News archives

The question is still asked in a number of different ways in the volley of questions and exchanges of passports now needed to cross the border at the Peace Bridge.

But there was a simpler time, before 9/11, when just the answer to that question alone was often enough to get you over the bridge for some Chinese food at Happy Jack’s, rides at Crystal Beach, or to fill up with some cheaper Canadian gas.

Regular or Unleaded?

Buffalo News archives

That’s a gas station question that’s triple extinct.

Regular now means a grade of unleaded. Old-fashioned regular gasoline — the lead-additive-filled kind — is no longer generally available. And besides that, it’s difficult to find full-service stations where you might be asked anything by a gas pump attendant anymore.

This photo of the Mobil station at the corner of Elmwood and Forest in 1986 says the station is self-serve, but still shows the two grades of gas they offer as regular and unleaded.

Starting in 1973, the EPA ordered the phase-out of tetraethyl lead additives to gasoline. In 1975, car manufacturers began introducing catalytic converters in vehicles to make them run smoother and cleaner, thereby negating the need for the lead.

Regular was cheaper than unleaded, but leaded gas would ruin a catalytic converter, and make for a costly repair. By the end of the ’80s, “regular” gas was mostly phased out.

Can you think of other questions we aren’t asked anymore?

Gramps: Junk Food Connoisseur

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

Buffalo, NY – I miss visits with Gramps… I’d call him ahead of time to make sure he didn’t have an appointment at the VA, and to ask if he wanted a hot dog (with sweet relish and slivered onions) or a couple of TimBits.

“A lil’bit of both would be good,” he’d say, cracking himself up with that laugh that makes me cry to think about.

As posted on Facebook, October 14, 2013: A nice hour and a half with Gramps today. He says hi to everyone. Facebook would accuse me of spam if I tagged everyone he said hi to... So "ha'lo, dere" from 87 year old gramps.
As posted on Facebook, October 14, 2013: “A nice hour and a half with Gramps today. He says hi to everyone. Facebook would accuse me of spam if I tagged everyone he said hi to… So “ha’lo, dere” from 87 year old Gramps.”

Like so many people of his generation, he grew up during The Depression without much to eat. He loved eating food and talking about food and sharing food.

In his years at the nursing home, our conversations usually involved what he had for lunch, breakfast, and maybe dinner the night before. He was always offering you the bag of chips that were on his nightstand or a piece of candy.

Visiting his house, you could barely get in the door before he’d read you the whole menu.

“Hallo dere son!” he’d yell out as you walked in, without pause adding, “Can I get you a sandwich? How bout a cold pop? You could make us a cup of coffee?”

I’d usually put on the kettle for a two cups of instant coffee for us, which he always seemed to enjoy– if not the drink, then the drinking it together.

There was always coffee, and there was always pop. Lots of pop. Too much pop. The first time she went to Grandpa Cichon’s house, Monica asked why there was so much pop. It’s funny the things you grow up with and don’t notice until someone points them out. The hall leading to the kitchen always had dozens of cans or bottles of pop stacked high. Like a store display. As one of ten with ten kids, Gramps always bought everything in bulk when it was on sale—whether it was needed or not.

While there was no greater connoisseur of junk food than Gramps, his junk food muscles were wearing out at the end of his life. He couldn’t eat more than 2 or 3 Timbits after lunch, and while he’d finish a hot dog, you could tell he was struggling to finish.

“My eyes are bigger that my stomach,” he said one time, “even though I’m blind.” Again with the laugh. All the junk food lead to diabetes which robbed Gramps of his sight for his last few years.

The loneliness he felt at the end of his life was painful to all of us. He was the last of ten kids still alive, nearly all his friends had died. Even a couple of his kids, my dad included, had passed away.  But Gramps kept plugging. His goal was to live longer than anyone else in his family. His mom lived to 87, his sister Mary to 89. He wanted to be 90.

Gramps finished in second place. He died peacefully a couple weeks after his 88th birthday. While he might have been disappointed to learn he didn’t make 90, I know he would have been satisfied with his final moments.

Because he was blind, an aide would help him eat lunch. Halfway through, she noticed he hadn’t moved in a while—and he was gone. Gramps died eating lunch, which makes me smile every time I think of it.

What also makes me smile is that first conversation in heaven with my dad.

“I just had a delicious lunch, son. I wish I could have finished it.”

Buffalo in the ’80s: Jim Pachioli knocked out high mattress prices

By Steve Cichon
steve@buffalostories.com
@stevebuffalo

In every era of Buffalo television, there have been local commercial pitchmen who’ve left us wondering if maybe we should go read a book. While the usually low budget spots become grating when they play over and over, like most things familiar — they become fun to remember when they’re gone.

Jim Pachioli was the owner and raspy-voiced pitchman for Factory Sleep Shop. He was often seen in energy-filled TV commercials wearing boxing gloves as he delivered the company slogan, “Nobody beats us, we guarantee it!”

The commercials weren’t great, and Pachioli knew that. “I think it’s a bad commercial,” he told The News in 1985. “But if it’s bad, they remember.”

If you were near a Western New York TV set in the early ’80s, you couldn’t avoid the TV spots. Factory Sleep Shop, reported News Critic Alan Pergament, was spending about $35,000 every month on television ads.

“Not since car dealer Dan Creed looked into the camera and said ‘Shame on you,’ has one local television commercial gotten so much mileage,” wrote Pergament in 1983.

Pachioli admitted in an interview with News reporter Jane Kwiatkowski that while he was embarrassed when people told him his commercials were terrible, the pain was eased when those words came as the people where buying a mattress from him. He was on the floor of his shop 12 hours a day, six days a week. A Buffalo guy who came from a poor family, Pachioli was proud of the business he built and operated from 1960 until his death in 1999.