03/02/08, 05/24/20
Harrigan Court







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© 2008, Property of Jorge L. Rodríguez.  Not for publication in any media without permission
Original draft written in 2003.
© 2008, Property of Jorge L. Rodríguez.  Not for publication in any media without permission
Original draft written in 2003.



The first great thing that happened in 1960 was the family moving into Ludvig E. Harrigan Court Project in
June of that year.  We moved into a 3-bedroom apartment that had indoor plumbing and a separate kitchen.  
We no longer had to go to an outhouse!  And we had two porches.  We were the envy of many.  The grounds
of Harrigan were well manicured.  There were flowers, plants and trees all over the place.  We also had a
basketball court and two play areas for the kids.  It was like being in heaven.
 [The housing project was
named in honor of Mr. Ludvig E. Harrigan, January 12, 1894 to May 10, 1951, who was a legislator, orator, and
labor union executive.  Though he attended school on St. Croix for a while, he graduated from high school in
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba in 1911.  Mr. Harrigan served in the army for a while, and later worked as editor of a
paper in NY which featured news about the Virgin Islands.  In 1937, he returned to St. Croix where he worked
as a cabinet maker.  His last years on St. Croix was spent as the president of the St. Croix Labor Union.]
While living in the project, we got a TV and a phone.  Ma also started putting up a Christmas tree yearly.  
It finally felt like we were moving up in the world.  How could we have lived on Queen Cross Street all
those years?

Before using the pine and artificial Christmas trees we used a local version.  Though we called the tree a
Christmas tree, it looked nothing like the imported versions.   The tree was found in the hills of St. Croix.  
It was a raggedy looking tree but once decorated it was beautiful.  I do not know if this local Christmas tree
still exists.

Having an indoor shower was still not that much fun, though.  It was always 8 of us fighting for the one
shower.  Getting ready for school was not easy.  I don’t know how we did it but we were always on time for
school.  Once my eldest sisters got married and moved into their own place the situation got a little better.
There are 8 buildings in Harrigan though because of the size of the apartments one building was broken up
into 2 so the numbering shows 9.  There is a street cutting through the project, which was known as Street A.  
On the north side of the street are two buildings, though numbered as 3 (7, and 8/9), and to the south side
are 6 buildings (1 to 6).  We lived on the second floor of building number 3.  Our neighbors were Blacks
and Puerto Ricans.  We became friendly with everyone and the kids hung out on the benches that were
close to each building.  It was great sitting outside at night discussing schoolwork with the other
neighborhood kids or talking about other worldly matter.   We became a close-knit community that looked
out for each other.

In Building 3, I remember the following families:  Roberts ( Apt. #22), Flynn (#24), Monell (#25), Ortiz (#27),
Seales/Thomas (#28), Doña Julia and her clan (#30) Griffith (#31), Barnes/Simmonds/Lockhart (#32),.  I think
Doña Julia’s family’s surname is Parilla.  Other families in the project were: Davila (Bldg. 1), Santiago (Ana La
Colorada (Bldg. 4), Ana the Red due to the reddish color of her hair), Seales/Charles (Bldg. 1), Edwards
(Bldg. 8), Springer (Bldg. 1), Santos (Bldg.7), Henderson (Bldg. 7),  and Peterson (Bldg.8).  [Paco and Glory
gave me the names of the other families in building 3:  Jumaso (#21), Crawford (#25), and Mason (#26).]

Though everyone was friendly from time to time, there would be disagreements between neighbors for
different reasons.  Ma always taught us that though she and a neighbor may have had a disagreement, we
were to continue respecting the adults of the other family and we were allowed to continue associating with
the children of the household.  Though we knew what was going on, we were not to get involved.  Most of
the disagreements were short lived.

While living in Harrigan, Ma continued to wash and iron for others.   The most she washed for was the
Benjamin family on Queen Street (#48).  I remembered the old man like everything starched, even his
underwear.  I always tried to imagine how it would feel to wear starched boxers.   The clothes were ironed,
neatly folded then placed in a Pet Milk carton.  Some of my siblings hated having to walk into town with the
box(es) in which the ironed clothes were delivered to Mr. Benjamin.  Since I wasn’t stealing anything, I
didn’t mind.  Ma used an electric General Electric iron.  It was heavy.  I think she still has one.  I cannot
remember seeing Ma use one of those irons that needed hot coal to work or the all metal ones that had to
be placed on hot embers or an open flame to get heated before ironing while we lived in Harrigan.  The
Crucians called these old fashion irons “goose”.

There are two other incidents I remember that I had to do since my other siblings thought it was
somewhat embarrassing to be seen by others doing it.  With so many females in the house, sanitary
napkins were a must.  I don’t know if the females all had their period at the same time or I was the only one
in the house, but sanitary napkins were needed.  I was sent to the store, Peter Christian’s.  I went in, picked
up the biggest box, which I think was purplish in color, and then paid for it.  I was told there were no bags
for it.  No problem.  I grabbed the box by the handle that came on the box and headed home.  I even skipped
along as I swung the box around.  Hi, I wasn’t stealing anything so why be embarrassed?  When I got home
Ma was shocked.  She felt I was advertising to the whole neighborhood that the household was under a
period attack.  Why the big?  Deal don’t all women go through the same thing?  The other incident was with
a pot (un caldero).  The damn thing was huge and used to cook for large gatherings.  Ma had lent it to
someone and now needed it.  It was up to me to get it.  For some reason I think it was at Titi Catalina’s or
Min’s house but I could be mistaken.  I remember walking down Mars Hill.  Again, there were no bags
available.  I grabbed the pot and headed home!  Again, Ma felt I was exposing the used pot to the
neighbors unnecessarily.  
[Strangely enough, I grew up hating bags.  Bags are handed out for everything,
even the smallest item.  Some store owners are amused that I don’t fuss with bags.  If it can fit in my hand
or pocket, why put it in a bag?  A waste of resources!]

While in the project, we received food subsidy from the government.  I think it was monthly we had to go
get our Department of Agriculture food supplies.  The supplies were distributed in an office in the old
Danish School on Prince St. (The back of this building is on Hospital St.)  I remember the rectangular boxes
of sharp cheddar cheese, the cans of fruits, thick peanut butter, meat, etc.  Some people said that the beef
was horse meat and some said the chicken meat was snake. As a matter of fact, I think the food at St.
Patrick’s School came in similar cans then cooked.

Summers we worried about the hurricanes and Easter was time for fires.  The grass and trees would get
very dry by Easter and were easily ignited.  One fire came very close to the project.  

In December 1960, my two eldest siblings got married in a joint wedding.  What a wedding that was!  I missed
the church ceremony at St. Joseph’s Chapel but didn’t miss the reception at Plantation Club.  For a while,
I was the bartender and I served some great drinks.  The men all kept coming back to me because I was
not stingy with the liquor.  If I had remained at the bar most of the men would have been drunk early and
the liquor would have finished quickly!

Min married Francisco Javier Rivera and Glory married Leopold Fredericks on December 2, 1960.  
The wedding was held at St. Joseph’s Chapel in Mount Pleasant and the reception was at Plantation Night
Club on Mahogany Road.  I love Javier dearly but will talk next about Leo because of what happened to
him.

My first nephew was born in February 1961.  He was named Leopold III.  He was a premature baby and was
welcomed to the family.  At the age of nine and a few months, I became an uncle.  I would eventually spend
many hours babysitting.

Leopold Jr. was a handsome man.  He inherited the best of the mixture of a Black man and a Puerto Rican
woman.  He was very athletic.  Leo was a policeman.  The good thing about having a policeman in the family
was that we were allowed to get away with things other kids could not.  As a policeman, Leo rode a
motorcycle.  In August 1963 he was in an accident.  The motorcycle apparently fell on his leg.  Leo was
flown to Puerto Rico where he died.  It appears the gangrene had spread too quickly.  I was in the shower
when María Esther (cousin) came to give us the news.  I stayed a lot longer in the shower to be able to
cry without being seen.  I lost a good friend.  (Leo wanted to have a daughter after having two sons with
Glory.  The daughter, Phyllis, was born two months later.)

Leo and his wife shared the top floor of a house on Queen Street (#28) with Javier and Min. One day I was
visiting and he told me to get something out of the room.  I opened a drawer and saw the biggest gun I
had every seen.  It was Leo’s revolver but to me it looked like a rifle.  The gun was empty.  The bullets
began to roll in the drawer when I opened it and the noise was deafening.  I was scared.  By the time I
closed the drawer Leo was in the room.  He must have realized that he should not have sent me to the
room.  He asked if I had found what he had sent me for and I told him I had not.  I think he was really
asking me if I had seen the gun.

Leo and Glory’s second son was born in 1962.  I liked the baby a lot.  He was always smiling, happy, and had
very curly hair.  I enjoyed visiting just to play with Papo (as Leo III was called), the new baby, and Min’s first
son, Francisco Jr., who was born in September of 1961.  The baby had no name for a while.  One day I was
playing with the baby when Leo came into the room.  He told me something like, “Since you and the baby
get along so well I think I will name him after you.”  To me Leo was kidding.  Later I found out that the baby
was named Jorge Luis Fredericks.  That was an honor and I never got to thank Leo for it.  Leo may have
been a womanizer but he was a very cool guy to me.  
[Leo died from an accident he incurred while on duty
yet nothing has been named in his honor.  Other policemen were honored by naming public buildings in
their honor so why not Leo?   Is it because Leo is half Puerto Rican or could it be his relatives have not
requested that he be honored?  I have always been surprised that the hospital’s name has not been
changed and is still named in honor of the only Hispanic governor to date, Juan Luis.]

An incident I remember that took place while the Riveras and Fredericks lived together had to do with the
kitchen.  Javier likes to cook.  One day, he decided to fricassee (stew) an octopus (sea cat, pulpo).  He cut
up the octopus in small pieces.  Javier used a glass pot (Pyrex) cook the octopus in.   As the octopus
cooked, the aroma made us all hungry.  I had not eaten octopus before.  However, the pot exploded and the
octopus flew all over the place.  No one ate octopus that day!  
[Javier does not remember this incident.  
Min remembers a pot did explode but could not remember what was being cooked.]

After Leo died, Glory came to live with us for a while as her house in Estate Whim (#56H) was being built.  
Min and Javier moved to a house on Hospital St. (#28A).  The house was really one room that was divided
into 3 to 4 rooms.  I liked visiting Min because she always had sweets to eat.  My favorites were the Nabisco
Sugar Wafers and Social Tea.  [Up to this day every time I eat these cookies/biscuits, the good memories of
my childhood come to mind.]  During this time Min was working at Miguel’s store on the corner of Hill and
Queen Streets.  Eventually the Riveras bought a house in the new complex that was built in Campo Rico.   
[While living in Campo Rico the Riveras built a beautiful house on Robe Hill and eventually moved there.  
Daisy remained in the house in Campo Rico with her family.  The house on Robe Hill is a beautiful house.  
To hear the Puerto Ricans pronounce the name of this hill you would think it was called Rops or Rope's Hill.]

Next to the house Min and her family lived in was the Queen Louise Home for Children (24-27 Hospital St.),
which was operated by the Lutheran Services.  We called it the Children Home.  We would climb on the wall
surrounding the premises and talk to the kids.    Queen Louise was a foster center and a place for abandoned
and/or orphaned children.  [Eventually the Home would expand into a much larger facility in Concordia.]

Everyone, especially Ma, always called me Jorgito.  However, with a second person in the family with the
same name, I became Jorge and Glory’s second son became Jorgito.  He came to live with us in the project
for a while.  It was great having him around.  He became the younger brother I would never have.  I loved
teasing and playing tricks on him.

It seems like Jorgito was always hungry.  He would hear the refrigerator open and he’d come running
looking at what was being eaten or drunk.  He always had a smile on his face.  Sometimes I made him suffer
by not offering what I was eating or drinking.  The boy wouldn’t cry.    Jorgito had a stomach made of steel.  
He’d eat almost everything he found without problems.  Whenever he heard someone approaching, he’d
drop what he was doing.  One day I came into the kitchen and saw him walking away.  I knew he had been
up t ono good.  I searched until I found an opened box of detergent in the closet.  He had been eating
detergent!  (I think at the time we used the detergent known as Fab.)  He also ate lipstick and ended up
with red stool!

I sucked my right thumb until I was about 10.  My mother tried everything to get me to quit.  She even
threatened to stick my thumb in a chicken’s ass!  Like I wouldn’t wash it after she finished and put it back in
my mouth?  I avoided sucking my thumb in public.  How did I stop?  At nights, I would take a corner of the
sheet I covered with and tied it to my thumb.  The big knot would make it impossible for me to put it in my
mouth.  Before you knew it, I had stopped sucking my thumb.  My upper teeth did suffer a little from the
thumb sucking, though.   The thumb sucking caused my upper teeth to move forward and thus no longer in
line with my lower teeth.  Since the problem is not that bad it has never been suggested that I use braces
to correct the situation.

In school, I would sit as close as possible to the front in order to see the blackboard.  At times, I borrowed
someone else’s glasses.   I had my eyes examined and found out I was very nearsighted and therefore
needed glasses.  I hated the glasses because of all the name-calling.  People wearing glasses were called
four-eyes, four-eye cat, and many other names.  Eventually, I went to contact lenses.  The lenses were
larger than the ones today and made of glass or a very hard plastic.  I got accustomed to them quickly and
preferred using them.  I had a habit of taking them off and throwing them on top of my dresser when I got
home from school.  One day I headed for my room when I saw Jorgito running out.  I knew he must have
been up to something.  It appears he had been trying to reach something on the dresser and stopped
when he heard me coming.  A bottle on the dresser had tipped over and when I looked under the bottle
and one of my contacts was under it.  The bottle had broken it.  Stupid me tried the contact on even
though it was broken.  Can you image what the broken contact could have done to my eye?  I cannot
remember if I talked to Jorgito.  After I replaced the broken contact, I stored them in the case every
time I took them off!

Some time in the 60s a Baptist preacher appeared in Frederiksted and set up his house of worship in a
house at the foot of the hill (Mars) leading to the project.  His name was Reverend Bubba (could have been
Buba and pronounced Booba).  He was young and energetic.  He welcomed everyone to his church.  I
attended a few services.  Since I was always not properly dressed, I sat in the back of the church.  Sitting in
the back made it easy for me to leave the church if I had to and made me less conspicuous.  The Reverend
would start his sermons slowly and as he got further into his sermon his speed would pick up.  This would
get the crowd in a frenzy.  The congregation appeared to be having a conversation with the Reverend.  At
intervals, they would say “yes”, “hallelujah”, “Amen”, “Praise Jesus”, and other things.  Some of the
members would raise a hand, others would stand, and others clap, while others kept their eyes closed in
what looked like a trance.  Being Catholic, I found this odd yet appealing. As the Reverend talked, he
walked from one side to the next.  I was always scared that the Reverend would call me up to testify.  I sat
in the back and watched everything feeling at times that all the movement would cause the congregation
harm.  Though Ifelt a little out of place being in the church, I left the house of worship feeling refreshed.  
Eventually the congregation moved to their own edifice higher up on the hill.  The church is still there.

Almost every Saturday and/or Sunday, a religious group would visit Harrigan Court.  They would set up a
microphone with speakers and preach to us.  The services were usually noisy.  Some groups also sang.  
The preaching was done in Spanish by some groups and in English by others.  Each group tried to get
residents of Harrigan to join their denomination.  They all basically had the same subject matter – how to
be saved from damnation.   Some of these groups also gave services in tents they set up in different
areas of the islands.  Eventually some tents were converted to a permanent house of worship.  

My best buddies were María Monell’s sons, especially Willy (Guillerrmo).  Willy was tall for his age but on
the clumsy side.  He was slow in school and I don’t think he got much of an education.  Willy and I would
hang out on one of the benches of the park that ran along the waterfront on Fridays to see what Navy ship
would be coming in for rest and recreation.   There were always ships in the area performing maneuvers
and I suppose they were also there to protect the Caribbean Sea from “enemies” of the U.S.  After a while,
we became so good at it that we could look at the shape on the horizon and know what type of ship it was.  
On weekends, we visited the ships.  The ships that we visited were frigates, destroyers, destroyer
escorts, amphibious ships, aircraft carriers, submarines and other small ships.  The subs were the most
interesting.  It was fascinating to see the inside of a sub.  How all those people could live and work in such
small quarters was surprising.

We became friendly with some of the sailors and some of them corresponded with us for a while.  On some
nights we were invited on board or on the dock to watch movies with the sailors. I dreamed of one day
joining the Navy.  

Some of the grownups that hung out with us were there so we could introduce them to the sailors.  Since
we knew a lot of sailors, they would depend on us to introduce them to island women.  We got gifts and
the ladies got money for their time.  One hand washes the other, so to speak.

Cruise ships visited the island from time to time.  We toured each and everyone.  Back then, the locals
were allowed to go on the pier when a cruise ship was in port.  During its visit the ship in port would
have an open house and we would take advantage.  On some ships we were treated to meals.    Upon
seeing the inside of these ships, I got to see how the rich traveled.  I remember such ships as the
Vistafjord and Sagafjord, and the Olympic or Olympia, and the Home Line.   
[If I am not mistaken, the Vista
may still be cruising but under a different name.  In recent years the prices of cruises have gone down
tremendously.  Many new ships have been built.  To get the berths filled the lines began to attract people
from all walks of life.  Today, unlike the 60s, cruising is for everyone.  Though there are various price ranges,
there is no longer a class distinction like in the ships of the past.]

The only time locals were not allowed on the pier was when a cargo ship was in because of the danger
created by the moving of the cargo from the ships to the dock, onto trucks, etc.  That I understood. Most of
the cargo was stored in the Merwin Warehouse at #9 Strand Street.  
[Today the dock is off limits to everyone
when there is a ship in port.  Security was heightened at most ports after various incidents that took place
around the world.  The warehouse has been converted into Frederiksted Mall.]

The dock originally was two pieces of concrete structures jotting into the Caribbean Sea.  One of the piers
was about a block long and the other was about 2-3 blocks long.  On the smaller one there was a crane.  
Since the cargo ships could not dock, boats went out to them to collect the goods that were meant for the
island.  The crane was used to remove heavy items from the boats.  Cruise ship passengers and Navy men
were brought to shore in tenders.  My friends and I rode on many of those tenders.  That was fun!  Most of
the Navy ships we visited and all the cruise ships tied up at the new pier.

Eventually the larger of the two docks was extended.  It was extended to about 5-6 city blocks.  Once this
was done, ships could dock rather than anchor out.  It was easier to get the cargo and passengers on and
off the ships.  Paco once worked on the cargo ships.  The crane on the small dock became a thing of the past.   
With cargo making it from place to place much faster by plane eventually the number of cargo ships visiting
Frederiksted dwindled to almost zero.  Also, a container port was built on the south side of the island.  
Some of the cargo also came in via the port in C’sted.  

The island’s fishermen used the longer pier.  Since it extended so far out into the water one had easy
access to an easy catch.   There were always schools of Balahoo, Round Robin, Jacks, Gar, and many others.  
I hung out a lot on the pier.  I was one of the bait catchers.  I would use a jig to catch fish (bait) for the
fishermen.  The best fisherman in my opinion was Marcial “Charlie” Cruz, one of María Monell’s sons.  

On this pier, I learned how to ride a bicycle.  One of the fishermen needed something from one of the
stores and asked for a volunteer.  The store I had to go to sold everything you could imagine that one
would need to fish.  They sold fishing rods, hooks of all kinds and shapes, all sorts of baits, all grades of
nylon string, and lots of other items.  The store was on Strand St. (the building listed as 11 and 12, which is
now the dive shop), between Market and Hill.  The fishermen were catching so many fish that they did not
want to leave the pier.  I volunteered.  Someone told me to take his bike so I could make the trip faster.  
I was too embarrassed to tell the person that I did not know how to ride a bike that I agreed to do it.  What if
I fell into the sea with the bike?  I imagined falling and having my pants leg foot caught on a pedal and
sinking to the bottom of the sea.  By the time I got off the dock, I knew how to ride the bike.  Since I was
feeling brave, I even took a stroll around the town.

On the same pier, I took my first smoke.  A group of us went to a ledge under the pier.  One of the kids
had a cigarette.  He lit it, took a puff and passed it around.  I took a puff and began coughing and couldn’t
stop.  I thought I was going to die.  What an awful taste and bad experience!  That was my first and last
experiment with a cigarette.   
[Years later a longer and better pier was built.  Today the dock is named in
honor of Mrs. Ann Abramson, a Black businesswoman.  She owns/owned a fleet of buses that took students
to school and tourists on tours of the island.]

The waterfront park had columns running from the pier to about King Cross St.   The columns were
connected by chains.  We’d play a game using the columns, similar to leap frog.  We’d run from column to
column and jump over as many as possible without hitting any or stopping.  Whoever jumped over the most
would be the winner.  Hitting the column could be very painful for us kids!  
[In 2004, renovations of the park
began.]

While living in the project, we had cliques.  We didn’t refer to them as gangs but everyone had a group
they hung out with.  However, nothing prevented us from hanging out with any other group.  For example,
I had one group to go to the pier on Fridays, another to go “torching” (catching land crabs), and yet
another to go to Annaly to pick mangoes.  We were never violent to each other, regardless of which group
the person belonged.  During this time, Paco hung out more with guys who enjoyed sports.  Paco was a
great baseball player!

“Torching” for land crabs was fascinating.  At a certain time of the year, I think it was during or right after
the rainy season, we’d fill empty beer, soda, and other type of bottles with kerosene.  Into the mouth of the
bottle we’d stick a piece of cloth as far into the bottle as possible.  When we got to the area of the crabs,
mostly what we called Pond Bush (pronounced Pan Bush), we’d light the piece of cloth.  This would create
a torch.  The light would help us see and would also startle the crabs, making it easier to catch them.  
It’s a wonder those damn bottles didn’t over heat and blow up in our hands.  Once the kerosene was
finished, we’d throw the bottle out.    Think about all the fires we could have caused??  Luckily, we never
did!!  By the way, kerosene could be bought in any store and could be in any amount as long as one had
a container to put it in.  

If we went looking for crabs during the day, we used other ways to catch the crabs.  We also used a lasso
made from twine to catch crabs.  The lasso was placed around the hole and when the crab came up we’d
pull the twine and lasso the crab.  We also used the leaves of a tree that grew in the area with the lasso.  
These leaves when crushed gave off a sweet fragrance.  The leaves would be placed around the hole and
used to hide the lasso.  Some friends used human feces instead of the leaves.  Others would put their
hand in the hole and catch the crab or dig out the hole.

We also had what we called “Jumbee” Crabs.  They were reddish in color with some black on their backs.  
Everyone told us not to eat them because they were poisonous so we left them alone.    We also had jackass  
and hermit crabs.  We used the abdomen of the hermit crabs as bait when we fished.   Some of us took a few
hermit crabs and raced them against each other.  We left the jackass crabs alone.  Their mandibles looked
bigger than their bodies.  I never heard of anyone eating them.

Going to Annaly was usually done with two of María Monell’s boys (Willie and Charlie, Willie and Fa, or
Charlie and Fa), José (not his real name), and me.  Sometimes Paco came along.  We’d leave early in the
morning and return in the afternoon.  We’d walk up Mahogany Road taking breaks at various points.  On
both sides of the road were many Mahogany trees.  We’d check the reservoir by Jolly Hill; pick some
mangoes in Major, Jolly Hill, etc.  
[If you look on a map of St. Croix, you will not see an area on Mahogany
Road known as Major.  What we called Major is the area between where the Lawaetz Museum is now
located in Little La Grange and Jolly Hill.  Why we called the area Major is beyond me.  Did someone live in
the area whose surname was Major?  
Update:  On January 5, 2005, Mr. Kai Lawaetz from Little La Grange
died at the age of 94.  He was born on January 14, 1910.  Mr. Fritz E. Lawaetz died at the age of 97 on
June 16, 2005.  May they rest in peace!]  

As we walked up the road, we’d pull the vines (“wiss”) that grew from the trees onto the road.  Some were
thick and strong enough for us to swing from.  However, we’d first inspect the vine for possible wasps,
which used the vines to make their nests (hives).  After Major, we’d walk in the middle of the road in order
to avoid the werewolf who lived in the area.  On our way back we did the same thing.  Keep in mind that
adults told us that there was a werewolf in the area to scare us.  We never saw it.  We’d stop and have some
mangoes for lunch.  

Walking up Mahogany Road, one would see a concrete structure through the thick bushes and trees on
the right side of the road.  A closer inspection would reveal an aqueduct system that was used to bring
water down to the town.  [Most of this structure has been destroyed by storms, development and the trees
growing close by.]  The aqueduct led all the way up to a reservoir in Jolly Hill.  This reservoir is located a
few yards into the bushes and could not be seen from the road due to the overgrowth of vegetation.  The
reservoir was a few yards to the right of the 2-3 small buildings after the Lawaetz Museum.  Two of these
structures may now be abandoned.  The few times we inspected the reservoir it was empty.  The other
reservoir was known as Creque Dam.  I cannot remember this dam having an elaborate aqueduct system
like the one on Mahogany Road.

During the heavy rains, there would be streams and pools in the area we walked through to get mangoes.  
The one I remember most was located close to the entrance to the Oxford Road.  On the right side of
Mahogany Road, heading east, there was a gut.  As a matter of fact, the gut eventually led to the reservoir
area in Jolly Hill.  Some of the locals brought their cars here to wash them.  At the entrance of the area there
was a small building, a pump of some kind.  In the gut, we looked for “cribishi” (small fresh water shrimps).  
I cannot remember what we did with them.  Did we catch them or just admired them?  Where did they come
from?  Were they only found when it rained?  Farther up the gut, on the right side of the corner of Mahogany
close to Oxford, there was a high wall.  The wall was from the bridge in the area.  There we were able to
bathe under a waterfall!  It was great!  We enjoyed it while it lasted because we knew eventually it would
not be there.

At other times, we walked to Campo Rico to look for guppies.  Keep in mind that when I was young all the
homes that are now in the area had not yet been constructed.  I think La La (Ivan Latimer’s wife, Nilsa’s
sister) was the one who operated the store in the area, the store that was owned by Paco for a few years.  
The long pink buildings on the other side of the street were new at the time.  (These buildings no longer
exist.)  To the east, just pass where the stand is now located, there were a few cement buildings.  I think
they were white or pinkish in color.  The windmill was there and somewhere in the back of these homes
was a cistern or well.  There we found guppies.  Like the “cribishi”, they appeared by season.  When that
was, I can’t remember.  The guppies were not as colorful as the ones sold today in pet stores.  

Over the water where the guppies swam flew beautiful insects.  They were dark in color but had some
beautiful wings.  We called them “pinchy nanny” (dragonflies).  It appears they never stood still or landed.  
They were in continuous motion.

Doña María Monell kept us busy.  Some days we played Bingo.  Other days we played Lotto.  We gambled
a few pennies each game.  What I liked most was the trips she took us on in June, to celebrate San Juan’s
Day.  Being on St. Croix didn’t keep us from celebrating Puerto Rican holidays.  We would get up early and
hike to Ham’s Bluff.  We’d carry a pot or two and a few loafs of bread.  Once at Ham’s Bluff, we would set
up camp under a sea grape tree then some of us would look for whelks while others fished.   Back then
there was a lot of sand between the sea grape trees and the water but the sea was mostly rough.  Today
the area is mostly rocks.  What we caught we had for lunch and dinner.  It was some of the best beach
picnic food I have ever had.  The beach next to the hill where the lighthouse is located was very sandy and
we swam there.  Late in the afternoon, we’d walk back to town.  Naturally, we’d end up fighting or arguing
and Doña María would yell at us making us stop.  Sometimes Doña María would act as childish as we acted.  
Some people said that she did not have all her marbles.  I didn’t care because it was fun being around her
and she was the only one who would put up with a bunch of wild kids!  If it were not for her, I would not
have experienced such an outing.  
[It is said that Ana Mery, one of  María's daughters, charged us a fee to
get into the apartment to play games and/or watch TV.  

I also remember Doña María Monell taking us to the beach around Lent.   A few Puerto Rican families
would camp out on the beach for the holidays (before, on or after Good Friday).  I can't remember ever
sleeping on the beach.  I don't think Ma would have allowed me to do so.  I remember once being eaten up
by sand flies ("mimes" or "no see ums").  These annoying insects appeared to be present mostly at dawn
and dusk.  Today this tradition is more widespread on St. Croix and includes non-Hispanic families.    
Those that participate use tents, campers, etc.  

On all beaches one would have to watch out for "mangee needle", a tree whose sap was said to be
poisonous.  There were also other insects one would have to be wary of.

During one of Titi Feli’s visits, Paco and I decided to go to Annaly to pick mangoes so she would have fresh
ones to eat.  We went alone since no one else wanted to go.  At the end of Annaly there are 3 roads.  One
takes you to Creque Dam, the other to the Scenic Road and the other down a road we called the S (Oxford
Road).  We called the road the S because of all the curves.  We had a bag that was not even half filled with
mangoes.  We decided we could get some more if we took the S.  We picked up mangoes as we went along.  
At one point this Black man walked out and asked us what we had in the bag.  We said they were mangoes.  
The man said they were his.   How could they be his when we got them off the dirt road?  He said they were
from his trees!  The man called out and another man appeared with a rifle.  I think he was Puerto Rican.  
This man gave the rifle to the man talking to us.  Paco started crying.  I looked at the man in complete
amazement.  The man shot into a tree and a branch fell.  I was amused by what was going on.  Not Paco.  He
hit me an elbow in my side and told me to cry.  I began to cry.  The man let us go.  As we turned to leave the
man began to laugh.  The next summer, I worked for the Black man.  I was hired to help him pick his mangoes
to sell at the market.  I told him about the incident and he laughed.  He wanted to know if I thought he was
going to shoot us.  I told him I didn’t but my brother did.  He told me that the day he came upon us he
wanted to have fun by scaring us.  He laughed some more.  The man was known as Bobo Garden.  For a
while, I attended school with one of his daughters.

I think it was in May or June that we walked along the shore from Dorsch Beach (close to the home of Miss
Delta Dorsch) all the way to Sandy Point.  It would be a group of us and one or more would have a long
pointed stick for testing the sand.  We would place the stick into the sand whenever we came across a
mound or an indentation.  Some times the tracks leading to and from the sea would lead us to a particular
area.  What were we looking for?  Turtle eggs.  If the stick came up wet and slimy, we knew we had found a
nest.  Some turtles would dig in more than one area to create confusion so many times we came up empty.  
We’d dig up the area and retrieve the eggs.  I enjoyed having the eggs boiled in water with a little salt.  
The shell of the turtle egg is very soft.  It’s about the size of a ping-pong ball.  It tasted delicious.  
[Turtles
take a long time to mature.  I think what we and others did may have had a negative impact on the population
of turtles that visited St. Croix.   The number of turtles has decreased over the years.  So much so that they are
now protected.  The area on St. Croix where the turtles lay their eggs is now under federal protection and is
banned to the general public during the egg laying and hatching season.  Today, being caught with turtle eggs
is a crime.   On one of my trips to Grand Cayman, I visited the turtle farm they have.  It’s an incredible endeavor.  
Though most of the turtles are for consumption, some are released into the wild.  While on the island, I had stew
turtle meat with white rice.  Though it tasted great, and though I knew where the meat had come from, I felt
guilty.  Other islands make jewelry from turtle shells.  These trinkets cannot be brought into the USA.]

During the summer we went to different parts of the island.  One area was for guavas.  The next for genips
(kennips).  Another for hog plums.  One had to be careful with a similar plum that was said to be poisonous.  
That one was called dog plum.  (I have always wondered about poisonous plants.  How many people died
before it was discovered that the item was off limits?)  In Clarke’s pasture there were lots of trees of
“mespels” (mispels, sapodilla, nispero, Manikara zapota).  And so on.
[The sap from the bark of the
sapodilla is used to manufacture chewing gum.  As kids we avoided having the sap from the fruit touch
out skins.  The tree is said to be native to Central America and the West Indies.]
     If I ever had to write a
report about how we spent our summer I could have always written about picking fruits.  I never did, though.  
The hog plums were not far from the gut and close to La Grange.  There was a line of hog plum trees in that
area.  Genips were all over the island.  Guava could be found on our way to Annaly or when we visited
Titi Guilla.  She also had passion fruits.  And what about the sour tamarinds (“tambran”, tamarindo)?  
Make a candy and they would be as sweet as you wanted them to be.  The genips (“keneps”) were placed
in rum by adults and let soak for a few days.  That was called Billy con ron (Billy with rum).  Why Billy?  Then
there were gooseberries (also known as groseillier des Antilles, Otaheite or Malay Gooseberry belonging
to the Phyllanthus acidus family.  It is supposedly indigenous to Madagascar;  sour but great when made into
a candy), “jo-jo plums” (Ziziphus mauritiana), “coco plums” , sugar cane, sour sop and a lot more.  It was a
good living.  Who needed to go to a supermarket to buy local fruits?  The fruits on the island were plentiful.

Gooseberries would turn yellow when ripe.  This to me is the most sour fruit I have ever tasted.  However,
when turned into a candy it is delicious.  The stewed berries could be eaten as is or used as a topping for
ice-cream.   I remember a tree on Queen Street next to Suarez store.

And then there was the Guinea Almond (pronounced ah-man, the official name is Baobab).  There was a
tree on Prince St. across from Chanchin’s store, and another on Hospital Street.  On Northside Road there
was another tree.  Another tree could be found in Grove Place.  When the trees had fruits, they looked like
rats hanging by their tails.  The outside covering of the fruit was greenish in color and itched if it touched
the skin.  We would rub it on the ground to remove the covering, and then break the fruit.  Inside were
brownish seeds covered in a chalk-like substance.  The fruit was neither sweet nor sour.  It was a taste one
had to acquire.   
[Years later, I realized there was a tree in C’sted in what today is a parking lot.  I also learned
that the tree was brought to the Caribbean from Africa.  It is said to be one of the largest and longest living
trees in the world.  The fruit is also called Judas Bag because each fruit is said to contain 30 seeds.  An
article I read years later would inform me that the fruit can only be found on a few islands of the Caribbean,
St. Croix being one of them.  Hurricane Hugo destroyed a few of the trees on St. Croix.]

My favorite fruit has always been the guava and the sour sop.  With guavas, Ma prepared various
goodies.  There was guava jam, jelly, and paste.  My favorite is the candied shells.  Ma would cut the
guavas in half, scoop out the pulp and seeds of the halves and simmer them with sugar, cinnamon, and
other ingredients.  Delicious!  Ma would take a ripe sour sop and make the most delicious juice.  
[On one
of my trips to St. Croix, I went to the Agriculture Fair with Ma and Titi Guilla.   One of the booths sold sour
sop juice so I bought it.  It tasted odd.  I told Ma about it.  She told me it might have been made with milk.  
Milk?  She said some people mix it milk rather than make it with only water.  I got very sick the next day
since I have problems digesting milk and milk products.  After this I ask if there is milk in the sour sop
before I buy it.]

Ma also made gofio.  What is that?  She would take the kernels off corns and roast them in a metal pot.  
Once roasted, she would put them into a coffee grinder and grind the kernels.  Once ground she would
add sugar and we’d eat it.  There was a trick to eating gofio.  One was not allowed to talk after placing
some in ones mouth.  The younger kids who had never eaten it before were always tricked into talking.  
What would happen?  Since the kernels were ground they became somewhat of a dust.  Upon speaking
the “dust” would get into ones air passages thus causing one to choke.  This would cause on to cough.  

Though I did not like eating ripe papayas (popeye, papeye, lechosa/fruta bomba), give it to me in a candy
and I was very happy.  Ma makes two kinds, the dry one and the one with syrup.  With the dry one, the
sugar crystallizes on the slices of papaya.   When we were on Queen Cross I remember Ma taking the
green slices of papaya and soaking them in water with ashes.  I think it was to soften the green slices.  

During the day, we played marbles and “cack” (cock).  With marbles we had two versions of the game,
one-hole and three-hole.  

To start the 3-hole marble game, we would dig 3 holes in a row, equi-distance from each other.  There
could be 2 or more players.  At the end of the two end holes, we drew a line.  We stood on one line and
threw our marble to the other line.  The individual throwing his marble closest to the line would begin
the game.  At other times, we decided who would start by standing at a line and throwing a marble
towards the hole at the opposite end.  Whoever got the marble in the hole would begin the game.  If two
players did it then those two would try again to determine who would play first.  I think we counted 10-0 by
going from hole to hole, down then back up, etc.   Before flipping the marble to the next hole, we’d put
our thumb by the hole; stretch out our hand and where the end of our index finger landed is where we’d
flip the marble to the next hole.  Any opponents that were close by would be struck away from the holes.  
To flip the marble, we’d take our thumb and hold it with 3 fingers and hold the marble in the groove
created by the bent index finger.  Once ready, we’d release the thumb throwing the marble forward.  
The game was usually for “nucks’.  The loser would be hit on the knuckles a set number of times by each
player.  Based on who played, this could be painful.   Your knuckles would be hit until the number agreed
upon was reached or the marble fell in the hole.  To make the marble fall quicker into the hole and reduce
the number of “nucks”, one would move ones hand slightly forward.  At other times, we would try to break
the loser’s marble by hitting it with ours.  The one-hole game was similar but played with only one hole.  
[This is what I can remember of the game.   However, when I discussed this with my brother and a nephew,
Steve Sobers, I was given a different version.  Paco told me that we only went up and down the 3 holes
twice.  He stated that the players would throw their marbles to the last hole and the one who’s marble fell
closest to the hole would start the game.  Steve told me that they only go through the 3 holes once.  
Both mentioned another game called ring or big ring.  The marbles are placed in a big circle made into
the dirt and then the players would try to knock them out.  Who ever knocks the marble out of the ring stays
with them.]

The other game was “cack”.  Remember the locust (Hymenaea courbaril).  I told you about that Jimmie
brought to class and broke it under my desk?  We’d eat the pulp and keep the seeds.  We would try to
get the biggest and darkest seed.  Once we had our seeds some of us would soak them in kerosene.  
The kerosene tended to make the seeds more flexible and thus harder to break.   We would then get a
piece of wire and hit the tip with a rock or hammer until it was flat.  Some guys used a flat screwdriver.  
With the piece of flattened wire or screw driver, we would make a hole in the center of the locust seed,
the pass a string through it.  A knot would be tied at the end.  The game consisted of 2 or more players.  
A circle would be made in the dirt and someone would place his “cack” in the ring.  I cannot remember
how we selected who placed their “cack” first.  The other players would take turns trying to hit the “cack”
in the ring.  If you missed hitting the “cack” in the ring, you would then have to place yours in the ring.  
The object of the game was to break each other’s “cacks”.  We’d take turns until only one “cack” was left.  
Sometimes there would be more than one left at other times the last two players’ “cacks” would break
at the same time.  

Another game we played was tops.  We used our tops to play a game similar to “cack”.   All the tops
were of various colors but some kids changed the color or added designs.  Someone would put his top
on the ground and the other participants would try to hit the top with the ultimate goal being to break the
top.  Whoever missed had to place his top on the ground.  Some guys changed the spike that came with
the top for a longer one.  They would cut off piece of a nail then file down the tip.  With this sharper tip it
was easier to break the opponent’s top.   With the force some guys used to throw the top, it was easy to
break the opponent’s top.  Other guys were experts in making the top sing, walk, etc.  Some guys could
spin their top then pick it up with the sting and have the top spin in the air while balancing on the string.
Others would be able to pick up the top off the ground and have it spin in their palms.

We also played with yo-yos but they were not as popular.  Some guys were good at doing tricks with the
yo-yos.  It was incredible what they could do with a yo-yo, like walk the dog, rock the baby, around the
world, etc.

And we also had the games where we clapped our hands against those of a partner as we sang a song.  
As the song progressed the clapping got faster and more complicated.  The song I remember went like
this, “Ikey and Mikey were playing in a dish, Ikey tell Mikey you  sa son of a/Bring out your children teach
them to play with sticks ‘cause if you don’t they’ll stick it in your/Ask me no question I tell you no lie Miss
Lucy had a baby, his name was Tiny Tim.  She put him in a piss pot to see if he could swim, he dived to the
bottom swam to the top, Miss Lucy got so frightened she pulled him by his/Cocktail, ginger ale 5 cents a
glass if you don’t like it you can stick it in your…”  There were also other songs and variations used to
this game.

Most nights we played games.  We used a light pole between Buildings 3 and 4 as the goal.  One game
was Touch the Post (similar to Hide and Seek), another was Spin the Bottle (only when there were girls
to play), and other weird games.  

Touch the Post was made up of two groups.  One would go hide; the other group would look for the
group that was hiding.   The team doing the searching would have to touch each person from the other
team before any of the members touched the goal.  The team searching would have a member or two
guarding the goal.  If any member of the opposing team touched the goal, they would be allowed to
hide again.

On one occasion, I climbed to my apartment via the back porch and went to bed.  The game eventually came
to a halt according to my brother because no one could find me.   Others that played with us played similar
tricks on us.  

Another time while hiding, we heard moaning and groaning by the project’s office.   Someone in the group
had a flashlight.  It was turned on and pointed toward the noise.  We saw 2 pairs of legs, those of a man
and a woman.  They were having sex in the dark while standing against the iron gate of the office.  We
turned the flashlight off and ran like hell.  That was the end of the game.  

Next to the basketball court when the project first opened were concrete pipes that were used for
various purposes.  Some were circular in shape while others were semi-circular.  These pipes can be
used for sewers, drainage, aqueducts, etc.  One night we were playing Touch the Post when I decided to
hide in one of the semi-circular objects.  I got on my back and slid in.  It was a habit for us to walk around
without a shirt and/or shoes.  We felt comfortable that way.  When I slid into the object my stomach was
exposed.  What I didn’t know was that the slabs were now home to “jackspanas” (red wasps, avispas).    
The motion created when I entered got them aroused.  They were all over me.   My face was the only thing
I could protect.  I got bitten all over my stomach.   I came out as fast as I could and ran home screaming.  
The next day I looked as if I was pregnant.  Luckily, I had no allergic reaction to the stings.  I can’t remember
if the game continued after the wasps stung me.

After one game of Touch the Post, I had to be rushed to the hospital.   We had stopped playing the game
and were sitting around chatting when I noticed that my heart was beating very fast and loud.  I realized
something was wrong because it was over an hour since we had stopped playing the game.  I went upstairs,
told Ma; she put her hand on my chest and immediately took me to Nesbitt.  I was kept overnight for
observation, given medicine, then released the next day.  What was wrong with me?   I never found out.  

One day someone came up with a new game.  They called it policemen.  One of the participants had to be
a robber.  I was chosen to be the robber but my dear brother told me not to accept the role.   Later I found
out why.  The kid from the apartment above ours was chosen.  We called him Midget.  He was left on the
bench while all the policemen went behind the building.  Once behind the building whoever had to take a
crap did so in the bag.  The bag was closed and then given to the robber.  The robber was told to pretend
it was money, place it under his shirt then take his fists and beat his chest while claiming to be the robber.  
Why?  This way the bag would burst.  However, this time it didn’t.  The lumps of feces must have not
produced enough moisture to wet the bag.  One of the cops removed the bag from the robber, made a hole
in it then returned it to him.  He tried again.  This time the mess came out onto his chest and clothes.  
There was a stench.  Why didn't Midget smell it before?   When he realized what it was he began to run.  
He ran upstairs and we didn’t see him for days.  The group laughed.  I didn’t find it amusing because I
realized what could have happened  to me.  Why didn’t the kid’s older brother tell him not to accept
the role of robber like my brother did?

The girls played games like hopscotch, jacks, and jumped rope.   To play hopscotch, they’d take a limestone
rock or piece of a broken figurine made from plaster of Paris and draw what looked like the shape of a
jukebox with one vertical line and 4-5 horizontal lines.  From a distance each participant would take turns
throwing a rock or bottle top then jump on one leg to pick up the rock or bottle top.  Once the item was
picked up they had to continue jumping around the other side of the drawing.  They were allowed to place
their two feet on the ground when they got to the top of the “jukebox” or after they made the entire trip.  
If both feet touched the ground during the trip around the “jukebox” one forfeited her turn.  I cannot
remember all the ins and outs of the game.  

Jacks was a game played with 10 star shaped metal pieces and a small rubber ball.  The object of the game
was to pick up the pieces while the ball was being bounced and then caught.  One item had to be picked up,
thrown back, two picked up then thrown back, etc., until all ten were picked up.  Keep in mind that with the
small hands the children had it was hard to hold the pieces in ones palm and catch the ball without one or
the other falling.   Some groups had competitions and would play for hours.  Jumping rope is a game
played in almost every country so I don’t have to explain it.  

The playground behind the project’s office and next to the basketball court had swings.  The older
children would swing as hard as and as high as they could while standing up.  We’d try to see if we could
make the swing reach the height of the horizontal bar and thus be parallel to it.  Many came close.  No one
fell.  At other times, we’d sit in the seat and swing as high as we could then jump off.   Whoever jumped
the furthest from the swings was the winner.  Miraculously no one got injured in these daredevil feats.  
When one is young, one usually does not see the danger in anything.  The joy of living is in the young!!

There was one group of guys who were always up to no good.  One night I decided to hang out with them.  
What a mistake!  That night they were going around the town using the emergency police phones to call
their friends, mostly females.  These phones were placed in boxes and attached to some of the buildings in
town.  What I didn’t know was that every time we picked up a phone it alerted the police.  While someone
made a phone call the others looked out for the police.  It appears the rest of the group knew that the police
was alerted every time a phone was picked up.  We were on the corner of Hospital and Market next to
St. Patrick’s Church.  We were alerted to the fact that a police was approaching so we all ran.  We jumped
over a wall, through the yard that was once the Danish School and ended up on Prince St.  Who was there
waiting for us?  Elmo James, a policeman, was waiting for us in his cruiser.  He told us to get into the car.
I sat in the front.  He then drove us around town.  At one point he stopped to buy something.  I was making
gestures with my fingers and the guys in the back thought they were funny.  Not Elmo.  He reached into the
car and slapped one of the guys in the back seat.  He then took us to the police station.  He told us he
would keep us there long enough so as to be questioned by our parents when we got home.  He knew we
would get home past our curfew.  I cannot remember what happened when I got home.  I do remember one
good thing, though.  Mr. James never mentioned the incident to any of my family members in my presence.
Elmo was a friend of the family.  I never hung out with these guys again.  To me they were trouble.  I also
didn’t want to end up in jail.  
[One of these individuals ended up in and out of jail and two are/were
abusing drugs.]

One of the guys in the project always had a habit of being around dogs.  However, he was very cruel
towards them.  We didn’t understand why he’d torture them the way he did.  Though he mistreated them,
the dogs were very loyal to him.  He’d call them and they would approach him though most would have their
tail curled between their hind legs. Were they afraid of him?  He would have his dogs fight each other.  At
other times he’d wait till they were in the act of having sex then beat them with a stick or bat.  We began to
distance ourselves from this individual.  [Strangely enough this individual grew up to have problems with
the law and has been in and out of jail.  Was this individual acting out his frustrations on the dogs?  Was
beating the dogs a sign of his mental state?  Was beating the dogs a sign that he would grow up to have
problems with the law?]

Another thing we did was making our own go-cars.   We used empty wood boxes plus other pieces of wood
we found around the neighborhood.  We used pieces of 2x4 for the axel, which was loosely nailed to another
2x4 that ran under the carriage part of the car.  For wheels we used two soda and/or beer cans we cut in
half and then inserted one piece into another.  A long nail would attach the wheels to the 2x4.  A piece of
string or rope would be attached to the wheel portion and act as our steering.  Some of us went so far as
to attach a piece of wood on the side that could be moved up or down to act as the brakes.  Others painted
their go-cars and some go-cars were given names.  Once completed, we would have races down the hill
(Mars) behind the project or on Street A.  Keep in mind that there were not many automobiles on the
streets so we didn’t have to worry much about vehicular traffic.  Racing these go-cars was lots of fun.  
The most that happened to us were a few scrapes and bruises.  

Empty beer cans were used as heels on our bare feet/shoes and we would run races while wearing the
bent cans.   The empty can would be placed sideways (horizontally) on the ground and would be hit in the
center with the heel of our foot/shoe.  The can would bend and thus become attached to our foot/shoe.  
If we had two cans, we would make one for each foot.  While running, the cans would make a lot of noise.  
At other times, we would attach a sting to two cans, stand them upright, and then balance on them as if
they were stilts.

Talking about not wearing shoes.  We had a habit of not wearing much clothes around the neighborhood.   
Most of the boys usually walked around with no shirt on or just a t-shirt, and shorts.  Shoes were mostly worn
to school, church, and on special occasions.  Due to this, we got injured a lot.   Like the time I fell out of the
tree teasing Maude or the time my brother got a thorn stuck in his foot.  The damn thing traveled from the
bottom of his foot to the top where it popped out when the abscess was squeezed.  We were always trying
to avoid rusty items because we feared ending up with tetanus.  We were told that to cure tetanus a long
needle had to be inserted in ones stomach and since we thought that would be painful we avoided rusty
items.  I once stepped on a rusty nail and avoided limping around Ma so she wouldn’t take me to the
hospital.  I treated the wound with all kinds of things I found around the house.  Ma did find out about the
wound one day and got mad at me because of what could have happened.  However, by the time she
found out the wound was almost healed.

During the 60s the music was incredible.  The Motown sound and Calypso was the music I liked the most.  I
n the U.S. there were such groups as the Temptations and the Supremes.  There was Marvin Gaye,
Stevie Wonder, etc.  The music made you snap your fingers and move your feet.  In the local scene
we had Archie Thomas (Archiebald Alexander Thomas) and his band, Jamsie (we called him One Eye Jamsie
since he has something wrong with one eye but his real name is James Brewster), Milo and The Kings,
Taco and the Playboys and Sonora Santa Cruz.  Entertainers from Trinidad  were Calypso Rose, Sparrow,
Lord Kitchener, and many others.   On the local radio stations, we heard mostly Calypsos and country
music.  

On St. Croix, I think the only radio station was WIVI broadcasting from Fort Louise Augusta in C’sted.  We
did get a few stations from Puerto Rico and was thus able to listen to Spanish music.   On these stations,
we listened to such great groups as El Gran Combo, Los Hispanos and Los Panchos, and singers like
Felipe Rodríguez.  (Something tells me that the station on St. Croix was WSTX.)   
 [In 2005, I discovered that
WSTX was started in the 1950’s.  If that is the case the station I listened to was WSTX not WIVI.  When I
surveyed a few relatives, everyone felt the station’s name was WSVI.]

Calypso songs were mostly satirical.  The songs were about the government, life in general, politics, etc.  
Many of the songs had double meaning.  Some songs were so risqué they were not played on radio stations
of some of the islands.  On St. Croix, we had Archie and Wesley Thomas and their band; however, the singers
from the other islands were always putting on shows on St. Croix, especially during the Christmas season.  
I also remember a duo of local girls.  I cannot remember their stage name.  I can remember one of the girls
was named Rouse.  
[Paco tells me that the girl was Janet Rouse and someone told him the group was
called the Mellowtones..  Calypso would eventually evolve to what was to become SoCa (the blending of
Soul and Calypso.  The singer to spread the beat worldwide was Arrow and the song that made him and the
beat popular was “Hot, Hot, Hot”.  Arrow was born on Montserrat, an island now dealing with an active volcano
and many of whose residents had to leave.  Bob Marley would make the sound of Jamaica, Reggae,
international!!  Eventually in my travels, I came to experience Compas (Haiti) and Zuk (pronounced zook,
fromthe French islands of Martinique and Guadeloupe) and Samba (Brazil).]

Paco and I could never agree on which group sang best.  I would say the Supremes, he would say the
Beatles.  What was so strange is though he thought they were so great he didn’t own one of their records.
I had many by the Supremes (Florence Ballard, who was later replaced by Cindy Birdsong, Mary Wilson,
and Diana Ross).

On TV, we watched a show hosted by Alfred D. Herger that came to us from Puerto Rico.  It was similar to
American Bandstand.  I think the show was called “Teenager’s Matinee”.  Later he brought us “Canta La
Juventud” and produced other shows.  Mr. Herger translated a few of the American hits at the time into
Spanish.  On these shows, we were introduced to new singers, songs, and dances.  Singers like Lucecita
Benítez, Charlie Robles, Julio Angel and Chucho Avellanet appeared regularly on the show.    There were
also other variety shows that featured La Lupe, Mirta Silva, Carmita Jiménez, and other local and visiting
entertainers.  The soap operas on TV were live and the actors were all Puerto Ricans!

One Saturday I was helping with the cleaning of the apartment.  We all had chores in those days.  Ma was
not home.  To make the job easier, I turned on the stereo.  (Up to this day, I have to have music playing
while I am cleaning my apartment!)  There was a knock on the door.  I opened the door to be confronted
by a door-to-door preacher.  I told him Ma was not home.  He barged in, went to the stereo, turned down the
music, placed a handkerchief on the sofa and sat down.  The preacher took out his Bible and began reading
from it.  I could not believe he had done what he did.  I did not respond because I knew he’d tell Ma that
I was rude, etc., and that would bring me more problems.  I continued cleaning as the man read from his
Bible.  When he finished he got up, took up his hankie and walked out.  I turned back on the music and
laughed.  He never said anything to Ma but I did.  She did not punish me in any way but thought the whole
thing was amusing.  
[Years later this man became one of St. Croix’s first homeless casualties and appeared
to be a little mentally disturbed.  He has since died.]

Paco tried to get out a lot of his household chores.  I would do them for him but would charge him a fee.  
I also remember ironing his clothes for a fee.

One day Ma was punishing us for something that was done.  Who did it?  I think it was Paco.  Anyway, when
Ma asked neither would blame each other so she decided to punish us both.  Paco began to cry.  I took the
licks (beating) without shedding a tear.  Ma said she would beat us until we both cried.  I think I didn’t want
to cry because I wasn’t guilty.  The next thing I know, Paco told me to cry so Ma would stop beating us.  I
began to cry and she stopped.  
[I was always under the impression that Paco was the one who gave Ma the
most problems.  Not so according to a conversation I recently had with Ma.  She said that the neighbors
were always reporting to her telling her they had seen me here, there, and everywhere.  She was mostly
concerned when they told her I was on the pier.   Ma thought I would fall off and drown.]

One of Ma’s male friends was kind enough to show us another part of St. Croix.  He would take us to
Christiansted from time to time to the movies.   He enjoyed action movies so I got to see all the James
Bond movies that were out at the time.  My favorite was “Thunderball”.  Alexander’s Theater in Christiansted
was the only movie theater at the time.  
[The theater eventually closed down.  The area where the theater
was located became known as Times Square.]

I enjoyed the candies sold at the theater.  Eating in the dark while watching the movie made the whole
experience more fun.  One day I could not eat all the chocolate I had bought so I decided to take it home
with me.  By the time I got home, the chocolate was soft.  I placed it in the freezer so it could get hard.  The
next day I unwrapped it and noticed it had white specks.  Could it be rice crispies?  It couldn’t be because
it was plain chocolate.  Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the white specks were worms.  I wanted to die.
It meant that the night before I had eaten chocolate covered worms while watching the movie!  I am here
to tell you this so the worms could not have been deadly!!  I refrained from eating candies in the dark
theater after this incident.

On our way home from the theater, we would stop at The Golden Cow in Bassin Triangle.   There they
sold delicious ice cream, hamburgers, etc.  I think the restaurant was owned by Island Dairies.  Today part
of the building is a police station.

Hispanics tend to you the words "negro" and "negrito" as terms of endearment regardless of the color
of the person’s skin.  One day a friend was visiting and my mother kept calling me to help her with
whatever she was doing.  She kept calling me by referring to me as "negro" and/or "negrito".  The friend
visiting was Black, a St. Lucian.  He must have heard the words one time too many because he got mad
and left.  The next time I ran into him, I apologized then gave him a quick Spanish lesson.  He thought
my mother was referring to him whenever she used the words!!  The terms Hispanics used to refer to
Blacks were "moreno" (black, of dark skin/complexion), or "morenito" as a term of endearment, and
íngles/ínlgeses.   Since the Blacks on St. Croix spoke English, we referred to them as those who
spoke English.

While living in Harrigan I did a lot of racing.  The older boys would challenge me to a foot race and I would
gladly accept.  Since I was good I knew I could whip them.  I always did.  We ran the stretch of Street A or on
the back of the project.  After the race, they would come up with these lame excuses as to why they lost.  
They would tell me they had just eaten, had a bad knee, were tired, etc.  My brother orchestrated some of the
races.  He would come home and tell me that so and so could beat me in a race.  I would take him up on the
dare and run the race.   After a few of such races, I began to assume that my brother was betting on the
races and stopped taking up the challenges.

My brother was a good gambler let me tell you.  He is/was good at cards and dominoes.    I hated playing
with him because he took too damn long to play a game.  He’d study every card, every piece of domino,
etc.  He’d then concentrate on what his next move would be.  The guy always wanted to win.

Our garbage was disposed of in receptacles at the bottom of the staircase next to building 3 and 4.  The
cans were housed in a walled area.  One day a neighbor, Peter, was playing on top of the wall.  He had a
towel tied around his neck like a cape.  He kept saying he was Superman.  Well, Superman decided to go
flying.  He jumped and ended in one of the garbage cans.  I don’t think he got hurt but that was the end of
flying career!

When we lived on Queen Cross Street, we had no pets but we fed many of the stray cats that came around.  
However, in Harrigan I had many pets.  I bought my pets from the pet store on Centerline Road, in what I
think is the Smithfield area.  I had a tank with turtles, a cage with parakeets, and a bowl with gold fish and
when the turtles died I got me an alligator.  Mind you, I did not have all these pets at the same time.  One
of the parakeets died and the one that remained started biting its wing and it too eventually died.  I think the
bird died of a broken heart!  When the alligator died I was so upset I decided to stuff the thing.  I soaked it in
alcohol, cleaned the insides, filled it with cotton, and then used wire in the legs to sit it up on a piece of
board.  The gray alligator turned brown a few days later.  It looked great on the piece of board.   I suppose
after I left St. Croix, Ma threw it out.  She didn’t care much for it.  It had also started to disintegrate in
certain areas.

Paco and I for a long time were about the same height and built.   We had a habit of dressing alike.  
The outfit that I remember the most was the “Pachanga” shirts that we wore.  That’s the name I can
remember.   I remember the shirts being multi-color but mostly orange.  What made them different?  They
did not have a straight or semi-circular hem.  Instead the hem ended at an angle at the front and back.    
Why the name?  I think it had to do with the dance with the same name that was the rave in Puerto Rico.  

The sneakers that I remember seeing often in the Bata showcase window were the Black canvas with
white soles Converse.  The sneakers had a white round patch at about the ankle that had a star in it.  
They are popular again today.

On the back of the project, Mars Hill, was a club that swung on weekends.  Most of the times there
was live entertainment.  I think the club was called Smalls, Paradise and/or Sheridan.  The owner of the
property was Mr. Ritter but I can’t recall who ran the club.  I eventually worked with what I think was his
second wife at La Crosse Laundry.

Apartment 29 became emptier when María left for New York City in 1965 and even more so when Paco left
for the Army in 1968.   María was staying with Lee in Brooklyn.  When they left Ma, Nilsa and I inhabited the
apartment.  Jorgito was with us for a while, too.

I tried teaching Ma how to read and write a few times but she always told me she was too old to learn.  
She just didn’t have enough confidence in herself.  I wish I had insisted.  On another try, I told her to learn
only how to write her name.  She again declined.  

Ma and other grown-ups kept warning us about getting close to hot objects right after getting wet or
doing a strenuous activity.  They told us we would "pasmar".  What is "pasmar"?   Due to the difference
between our body temperature and the artificial heat generated by stoves and similar appliances, our
muscles and/or organs could go in shock and thus one could end up with a partial paralysis.  Though this
may have been a phenomenon that could occur, I never saw an individual that had been "pasmado"!  
We were also not allowed to go swimming for at least half an hour after eating.  To go swimming
immediately after eating could cause muscle spasms, stomach cramps, etc.   If one had a cold, he/she
would be told not to wet ones head!!   We were also not to catch "sereno", night dew.  Night dew was
considered not to be healthy if one  was not properly dressed or had a cold.

One night after watching a horror movie, I went to bed.  I think the movie was one of those black and white
Boris Karloff movies.  The next thing you know, I am running out of the bedroom screaming.  How long
had I been sleeping?  When I ran out of the room, I was in a daze and did not know where I was.  I ended
up banging my head against the wall.  Ma blamed the movie.  What woke me was ghost I had seen at the
foot of the bed.  The ghost talked to me in a familiar tone.  It said it was my father.  Scared the living
daylights out of me.  Ma proved to me that the voices were coming from neighbors sitting on the benches
below my window.  Did I ever tell her that the ghost that talked to me was that of dad?  I don’t think I did.  
Though she warned me about watching these kinds of movies, I grew up to like them.

Today Harrigan, like most housing projects around the U.S., is something most people fear.  
They have been taken over by a criminal element making them grounds for gangs, violence,
drug use and sale, etc.