Saturday, October 28, 2006


When Halloween arrived in 1958 I was a young bride living on West 75th St., in New York City. We had been in our "railroad" style apartment for two months and I couldn't remember seeing any young children there. We were on the 6th floor which we reached via a dark and rickety elevator. This was basically a building of small apartments occupied by singles, gay couples and the elderly.

With these thoughts in mind I didn't even consider the idea of providing for "trick and treaters". My husband agreed and even felt more strongly than I that it would be a bad idea. "No mother in her right mind would bring a kid up that elevator", he said, "and, besides, we can't afford to be spending money on a lot of junk food for a bunch of snotty-nosed tots that we don't even know and probably wouldn't care to."

"Well", I thought, "he's in a fine mood", and I went to the kitchen to start dinner. He was still in a foul humor at suppertime and it was apparent that his day had gone from bad to worse. When the doorbell rang he threw down his napkin in disgust. "I can't even get a few minutes of peace in my own house", he growled as he headed down our long hallway to the door. I heard it open and then... a profound silence. I waited a minute and then went to see if I could help.

I will never forget what I saw. There was my husband crouched down so that he was on eye level with a tiny imp dressed in a tiger costume. They were having a conversation and the little boy kept nodding his head and smiling. Then Dick reached in his pocket and I saw him put all his loose change into the Halloween bag that the child was carrying.

I quietly returned to the table and was sitting there when Dick came back. He was looking a little sheepish but he didn't give me an explanation. He said that he "had a little business to attend to" and that he'd be right back and he was out the door in a flash.

When he returned he had two bags filled with goodies. It was then that he told me about the conversation with the little boy. Dick had given him his change so that he could buy what he wanted, but he'd promised him that he would get some candy to have on hand for the rest of the "trick and treaters".

We found a bowl for the candy and then put it on a small end table near the front door. We even decorated the outside of the door to make it look friendly and then we sat back and waited.

Yes, you guessed it. Not a soul appeared. Our little Halloween tiger had been our only taker. "It's strange," said Dick, "I don't remember a grown up being with that little boy. You don't suppose........"


Anonymous Anonymous said...

A great Halloween tale. I just love the punch line.
Well done, Ginnie! And happy Halloween

1:25 AM  
Blogger Anvilcloud said...

The weather here is not supposed to be very nice this year. I wonder if we'll still have hundreds?

5:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

OH MY God.....what a GREAT story, Ginnie! I'm still smiling. I just love your blog entries. You sure can stir emotion.
Thanks for the Halloween memory.

5:21 PM  
Blogger Chancy said...

Thanks Ginnie for sharing a great Halloween Memory.

Some years back we lived in Chattanooga on Signal Mountain and further on back on the mountain from the main residential sections was a coal mining area called Edwards Point. The first year we lived on Signal Mountain we bought the average amount of candy for the expected usual number of goblins.

We were surprised when the pick up trucks started arriving, filled to the brim with the little ones from Edwards Point. They came and came and came. My husband had to make a quick run to the drug store to restock the candy bowl

We must have had at least 50 children that year. We finally ran out of supplies and turned off the porch light.

With this memory of Halloween past, I invariably buy too much candy for the Halloween goblins who don't come to our townhouse community here in Atlanta. Last year we had two and they were our own grandchildren:)


12:20 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

hey ginnie :) i really enjoy true stories / memories like these. you worked doing advertising on "The Breakfast Club with Don McNeill" correct?? well, thought i'd share with you that Jack Owens, who was a regular on that show, but retired probably by the time you were there, was my grand uncle. i just got a DVD of that 1948 telecast. loads of fun seeing that and watching Jack sing.

well, if you'd love to read an amazing true life story, i'm also the author of "The Perfect Pitch, the Biography of Roger Owens, the Famous Peanut Man at Dodger Stadium." Roger is also my uncle, and Jack was his uncle. cool huh??
you would really enjoy the book on so many levels.
well, happy blogging. i have one too at
ok take care.

4:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

So gave me a shiver. I think he may have been visited by the ghost of Halloween past!

12:21 PM  

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