Pop's store

This started out as a description of my Father’s store in Coney Island. It will change I think, as I go along.

The store, the Paradise ice cream parlour, was in Coney Island, on Surf Ave. 1604 next to the RKO Tilyou,
across from Steeplechase Park, between west 16th and 17th street.

We lived around the corner on Mermaid Ave., whoever named the avenues in Coney Island was a genius, Surf Ave, Mermaid Ave, and finally Neptune Ave.

The store burned down in the 50’s, I remember Pop told me that he saved my prize Schwinn Phantom bike, and not to worry about it.

Pop was a classic candy maker. As a young immigrant he was apprenticed to some relative in Massachusetts, who taught him the craft.

He made his own ice cream and chocolates that we sold by weight.

It was also a luncheonette; we came straight from school to the store, it was home for us. Mom and Pop never left the store alone from 9 am until midnight or later. We did have an hour or two at six o’clock in the evening when we all had dinner together at home.

The store was open 7 days a week 365 days a year; my parents never took a vacation together. The Paradise was the center of our lives. My sisters who were older than me worked there after school and weekends as waitresses, I was too young, but I did wear an apron and acted like I worked there.

Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving we had Santas, rabbits, Easter eggs, and turkeys made from chocolate, obviously the appropriate ones for each holiday. Mom decorated them with jellybeans for eyes and decorative frosting, and then wrapped them in yellow cellophane. It was a family event.

We would watch Pop make them and take them out of the molds while hoping one would break so my friends and I could have some chocolate.

If none broke Pop would break one saying it was “no good” so we could eat it, he never acknowledged that it was a perfect one he broke for us.

The store had double doors, display windows on either side in front; there they would show the different candies and seasonal displays.

When you got inside, there was a marble counter on the left with 10 or 12 stools. That is where you got sodas, ice cream sundaes even coffee and pie or some sandwiches. There were usually two old Greeks sitting at the end of the counter having coffee, the typical Greek thing anywhere in the world.

On the right was the cash register and long display cases with the different candies, some in boxes as well as loose ones…at the cash register, near the exit where you paid your bill; you could also buy cigarettes and cigars.
I think we sold cigars since Pop was a cigar smoker: I started to smoke by stealing cigars from the display case, White Owls as a matter of fact.

After the counter we had the booths, 6 on either side as well as 5 on either side in the center, an island of 10 booths, 22 booths in all.

We even had a phone booth in the back and the rest rooms.

Just before the booths began, we had an amazing juke-box, Pop thought it would help business, all it seemed to do was make the waitresses dance around.

I remember, “Shrimp boats are a comin”, by Guy Mitchell, shows you my musical tastes.

Beyond all that we had the kitchen, there was a wood burning fire to melt the chocolate in a bain-marie set up.

This was where all the great chocolates were made on long marble counters, were he poured the melted chocolate to cool.

It was an amazing room, it smelled great, and it was dark and moody, just like chocolate.

The chocolate came in twenty-pound slabs from Nestle in Switzerland.

My connection with Nestle remained for 40 more years. They were a client of McCann’s and I did ads for them in eight countries. I wonder what Pop would have made of that. I guess I am a sort of candy maker as well, at least a candy ad maker.

I still am reminded of Pop’s great candies when I have a piece of dark chocolate.

The overall feeling of the store was classic, small tile floors, probably had the Greek key design border, pressed tin ceilings, hanging fans, booths made of dark wood, marble counters, decorative display cases, beveled mirrors…very art nouveau, and even a couple of tiffany type lamps.

Some relatives, even older than me if that is possible, have confirmed this description.

Now here comes the problem…I remember the store pretty well, I also thought I remembered Pop’s sign, a big hanging neon sign.

Evidently when I found this photo of the street, it seems my memory was a little off; the movie house sign was mistaken in my mind for my fathers sign. Pop’s was a little more discreet, still pretty big…but not the monster I drew.

I guess we remember things better or sometimes even worse than what they really are.

A New York Deli...in Tokyo?

In 1970 I was sent to our Tokyo office for three months to fill in as Creative Director.
A short time in an amazing place and we have some great memories.

Japan was full of contrasts, just as something made sense and you thought you understood it
…everything changed.

While there a friend asked me if I wanted a pastrami on rye and an egg cream. This may seem like a normal question in New York but not too normal in downtown Tokyo.

I am a kid from Brooklyn, a pastrami on rye sounded great, so where do we get it in Tokyo?

He was an expat and lived in Tokyo for years, if anybody knew where, he certainly did. He took me to a typical street and we entered a building that led to a typical NY deli.

Surly, sarcastic waiters that were Japanese, that in itself was pretty odd.
Corned beef and pastrami in the showcases, rye bread and mustard on display, soda machines and behind it all was Ann Dinkins.
She was a flamboyant woman from New York, maybe even Brooklyn; at least that is what her accent told me.

It turns out, she came to Japan years ago with her husband as an expat, he had died and she remained in Japan. She was very much at home there and decided to make herself even more at home, she opened a deli.
To give it the right atmosphere, Ann trained the waiters to be sarcastic and surly and at times I thought they even had a NY Jewish accent. They would sigh and say” oy vey.”

She told me it was good for business and there was no staff turnover, due to their attitude, they could not get jobs anywhere else.
There is not a great deal of demand in Japan for sarcastic waiters. Good job Ann.

Ann also had the exclusive rights to import meats to Japan; it seems the royal family liked pastrami.

Just one of the bizarre things we enjoyed in Japan in 1970.

Today there is a NY deli, but it is in Disneyland Japan, I bet there are no sarcastic waiters there.

It just is not Ann Dinkins.

Extracting the urine or taking the piss

I like the expression “ extracting the urine”.

I have a friend, a Greek that lived in London for over 40 years,
Instead of saying taking the piss, he says, “ extracting the urine.”
Sounds like a classy way to say that I am bullshitting.

I have a tendency to make stuff up; I suppose it is lying, although I see it as creative and enjoy doing it.

The lies are like, Columbus was Greek, the turkey is an indigenous Greek bird, you can swim after you eat if you ate seafood, stuff like that, not really nasty lies, fun lies.

They are mostly entertaining not harmful. I am about to tell you how to do it; there is a basic simple rule.
All great lies, bullshit, crazy stories, have to have a basis of truth. A germ of truth gets people nodding their heads and sort of accepting the rest, no matter how preposterous, as a matter of fact, the wilder the better.

Don’t swim after you eat…it is ok if you eat seafood, simple version.

Columbus was from the island of Chios, sounds crazy, until you say Chios was part of the kingdom of Genoa, since we have heard that Genoa was the home of Columbus all our lives. Hmmm, could be true.

Turkeys are from Greece and were taken the new world by Columbus, why would one of the best Greek wines, Hadjemichalis use a turkey as his logo if it was not an indigenous bird. I actually know why, so do not write me and tell me why. Also it is called a turkey by mistake since Chios is close to Turkey.

Although one of my favorites is that the famous cold cut Armenian store in Athens, sells great vanilla ice cream.
No touch of truth to make it more acceptable, just a very trusting target. This does not happen often, so you really need a touch of truth normally.

So if you want to make stuff up, it is fun, remember the basics: a touch of truth to make it slightly more logical, and a convincing presentation. You sort of have to believe it yourself, convince yourself, before you can convince others.

As you all know, the ostrich is from the Argolida.

The two Costas go to the Royal Wedding

In Porto Heli, where we live there is one famous Costa. He is the ex king of Greece, Constantine, or sarcastically referred to as Costakis by the locals that are not royalists; the royalists actually refer to him as Your Majesty.

However, there is another Costa, a friend of ours, he is Greek and has lived over 40 years in England and worked at a public, Eton type school. He has retired about a kilometer from us here in the Argolida.

Evidently Kate’s brother went there and invited some of the staff from the school to the wedding, including our Costa. This obviously was pretty exciting for us, and I promptly told the whole town about our Costa going.

So our little village in Greece had two going to the Royal Wedding, and both named Costa.

This had to be unique, cannot imagine any Greek village, even Athens having two Costas going to the wedding.

Off he went, electronic ticket, first class, stayed overnight at the dorms of the school, limo to the wedding.

We were glued to the TV, watched every minute of the festivities hoping to get a glimpse of our Costa, or even the ex King, no such luck, lots of famous people but not the two Porto Heli Costas.

We enjoyed it and were amazed at the manners of the crowds, and wondered what would have happened if they were all Greeks.

The next day we were invited to our Costas house at midday for a drink and mezedes to hear about his amazing trip.

Some other friends were there and we assumed to celebrate Costas return, I also was hoping for some souvenirs from the event.

I, as is my manner, sat next to Costa and asked him a load of questions.

“ Who had the biggest hat?”

“Did the Queen greet you?”

“Did you have good seats?”

“Did you say hello to Elton John?”

“Did any queen say hello?”

I was so involved asking questions, that I never noticed that the rest of our “ friends”, sneaking in, dressed in fake royal gear and waving paper Union Jacks, singing “ we fooled you Greg, we fooled you, Costa never went.”

It finally dawned on me, this was an elaborate joke…and I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. They were all in the know; Jeannine and I were the only suckers. I was being paid back for all my years of practical jokes.

Costa never went, this was mainly his wife’s idea, and quiet, sweet Gwen got me. Who knew she had that side to her, you never really know people.

How do I get back at them? Do I just let them worry and get them when they are least expecting it, or let them anticipate my revenge forever…and maybe not do anything? I have to think about this.

In town at the cafenion, I maintain that Costa went to the wedding, I do not want to make a complete ass of my self.

Hmm…what will be my revenge?

The first dive of the year, dolphins and lepers.

I had my first dive of the year with my son, my daughter and her boy friend as well as my dive instructor John.
My daughter and her boyfriend were visiting from NY. We were all looking forward to the dive, it was a great day, the sea was calm, I was anticipating this day all year long.

We went around a point near the fish farm and saw dolphins; they were frolicking in the sea. I guess they were waiting for the meal they were about to have from the escaped fish from the farm. I have seen them in the sea before, but they normally take off as soon as anyone approaches, not these guys, they swam around the boat and as they do, raced us. An amazing start to the day. After about twenty minutes they disappeared just as quickly as they appeared.

We were all set to dive, even more so than before.

We dove off a small island in front of Korakia; I think it is called Korakia Island. We commonly call it the Leper pottery island, there are pottery shards around the island and due to its remoteness, I made up a story, as is my wont to do, that the potters were lepers. OK, OK a pretty dumb story, but it kept us smiling.

Back to the dive, amazing visibility, John our dive instructor stayed with me and kept me at about 8 to 9 meters, no deeper due to my surgery a couple of years ago. The rest of the group dove deeper; they are younger, healthier and better divers. John and I had a great dive and found a small octopus, wonderful creatures.
John had to spend quite a bit of time keeping me from going deeper,
( the blue just looked more beautiful the deeper you went ).

Dive was great, now the problem starts, how the hell to get back on the boat, there is a ladder and it is more than adequate for most people. I cannot do it, I would have to be hauled on board like a dead walrus or put the ladder on the back so it is lower and with a bit of help get in like a normal person.

I would actually like an escalator or an elevator…they all keep talking about a crane; needless to say I am not so keen on that.

I wonder what it would cost to put an escalator on board?

Kitsou, Kitsou, Kitsou and Costa

Here is the thing, I find out that all, or most of the donkeys in Greece are called Kitsou…and it seems they always have been called Kitsou.

Our cat in Coney Island in Pop’s store was called Kitsou as well. When Kitsou died and we got a new cat he was called Kitsou, fortunately we never had more than one cat at a time. Seemed strange at the time, all Pop said was it was easier if they (the cats) were all called Kitsou. Sounded normal but I never asked why Kitsou and not Puss or something like that.

All this seemed pretty strange so I did some research, locals as well as Google, both in Greek as well as in English. This is what seems to come up, and for a change not violently contradictory.

The locals tell me all donkeys are called Kitsou in honor of a thief in the 1800’s called Kitsou who rode a donkey.

Google tells me his name was Kitsou Davelis.

There was another Kitsou that was a hero during the Greek war of Independence from the Turks. I cannot get his last name, but I am trying. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

It seems this Kitsou went to the Turks and asked for a donkey, he was sarcastically asked what he would give for this donkey and he said a Turkish prisoner. It did not go down to well with the Turkish authorities.

Knowing Greece a bit, the first Kitsou could have been the hero; thieves in those days had a pretty glorious reputation.

I am still trying to get to the bottom of the Kitsou mystery. I wonder how it got to Coney Island?

Horses in the olive groves.

I do not know why this is so surprising to me. Goats, sheep, dogs, donkeys in the groves makes some sort of sense.

Our area is almost a suburb of Athens; it is the Hamptons of Athens…at least that is what it has been called.

The locals have prospered selling land for villas to Athenians and foreigners. They had donkeys and horses; at least their fathers did, before the BMWs and the Mercedes they tool around in now.

For many years there were no horses around here, yes on the island of Spetses for the carriages that take tourists around, but not here on the mainland.

There seems to be an influx of horses now, the locals have even started an equinine club, horses seem to be all over the place. They show them and ride them around…not quite England, but close.

They ride them with a sort of western saddle with lights, especially at night, which makes sense to me.

It might be a nostalgic desire to return to their roots, a little like the wealthy ship owners having traditional wooden fishing boats “kaikia “ instead of “ gin palaces “.

I guess if you think about it, it makes perfect sense, horses and kaikia, I will have to go back to making candy, just like Pop did, or get a kaiki like Papoo.