Cedar Street

Cedar Street is one of Camden’s “tree” streets. It ran from North 3rd Street east to North 10th Street, between Elm and Vine Streets. The 500 and 600 blocks are gone today—cleared for a park and a school building respectively. There was never an 800 block, as Willard and Linwood Streets ran north–south between Elm and Vine in that location.

I grew up in North Camden until I graduated from Woodrow Wilson High in 1964. I went to Pyne Poynt shortly after it was opened and graduated 9th grade in 1961. I undoubtedly knew some of the people that contributed information for your web site or they probably knew me. In those days, in North Camden, you usually got to know people, even if they came from different neighborhoods. Even though some names and faces tend to elude me, I have a million recollections of my time in Camden. In the context of today’s times, some stories might sound simply unimaginable. For instance, would you ever hear a mother today yell to her sons in the basement, “Are you kids making bombs again down there??!!” Amazing, but true.

When I took my first wife to Camden to show her where I lived her first remark was, “Why are you turning down this alley?

When you drive down Cedar Street (from 4th Street — Cedar Street is a one way street) this is what you encounter. First, the wheels of your car just fit between the curbs, with a sidewalk on each side just a little longer than a grown man’s arm spread—four to five feet wide, maybe?. After passing the backyards and the access alleys of the corner homes (at 4th and Cedar) the sidewalks end, and you encounter the following:

On the left side of the street, you first see Mr. Welch’s garage—a single car garage for his personal use (his residence was on Main Street.) Next comes the back of the Main Street Garage (don’t know if that’s actually the name—just what we called it.) First part of the garage is a three story section, then a two story section, then a one story section. The garage ends with about a two-foot separation from the building on the end—the separation was bricked up to a height of about 6 feet on each street-side (The Cedar Street side and the Main Street side). We referred to this as “the crack” and it was an excellent hiding place when we played “Kick-the-Can” or “Hide-and-Go-Seek.” The building at the end of the street was a pizzeria at one point and was triangular in shape due to the fact that Main Street cut diagonally into Cedar Street. When we played ball on Cedar Street, we often hit a ball high and it landed on one of the Main Street Garage roofs. “The Crack” came in handy as a means of access to the one-story garage—you just “shinnied” up the walls of the crack to the one story garage rooftop. Each garage roof provided access to the next higher roof and thus, access to the high-flying ball, wherever it might have landed.

On the right side of Cedar Street (after the alley), came the Oler’s Garage. The Charles B. Oler family had a business office located on Vine Street and the access to their garage was on Cedar Street. The business provided coal, oil and ice and they kept their trucks in the garage. The door was often open and we frequently used the garage for hiding places for the games previously mentioned—and sometimes for assorted mischief. (Here’s a quick story about stupid things kids do. We were playing “Hide-and-Go-Seek” and Max Block (lived on Third Street and was a few years older—but certainly not wiser) was “seeking” us. George Massey (resident of Third Street, also—and my age) was hiding in an ice truck with a heavy ice canvas pulled over him—and a half truck of ice—freezing his butt off. Max, not wanting to get cold or wet by lifting the canvas simply threatened to throw an ice pick into the canvas to “scare out” anyone hiding behind it. George, not wanting to be found kept quiet and still. Max, as I previously said “not wiser,” threw the ice pick and, “quite accidentally,” stuck George in the leg (through the canvas)… and so George was “found.” That, more or less, sums up a good part of our neighborhood.)

Anyway, continuing up the street… following the Oler’s garage was a vacant lot with a fence. Originally, it was a wooden fence and at some point in time it was replaced with a more sturdy chain link fence. Oh yes, the wooden fence was first topped with some type of “gummy” oil to stop kids from climbing on it, and then it was topped with barbed wire. None of this stopped us from climbing it though—which was stupid because our house (321 Cedar Street) was the next house on the block. We all had access to the vacant lot (e.g., to retrieve a ball that went over the fence) by simply going through our house or going through our back yard to the lot, which had a short wiry fence that anyone could jump over. For many years my father parked his car right in front of this fence. In addition, directly across from the fence was a rarely used back door to the three-story section of the Main Garage. We played a “knife game” using the door as a target. We would divide the door into different sections and divide the street into different levels—lowest level close to the fence (or my father’s car) and the highest level was closest to the door. As we successfully “stuck” our penknives into the designated section we would move forward—winner was the one to get to the highest level first.

As I noted, our house began after the vacant lot—the sidewalk on the right hand side of the street also started up again. Our house was the first in the row house line-up of about six homes. The last house in the line-up was built such that an alley (about five to six-feet wide) ran through it, providing access to many of the back yards of the row houses on Cedar Street and Vine Street. This alley was affectionately known as “The Ghost Alley” and it became pitch black at night. So dark, in fact, that if you were two feet inside the opening you couldn’t be seen. The last house in the row was connected to a distinctly separate set of homes (they even had porches), then a small access alley, and then the back yard and home at the corner of Third Street.

Nearby, at the Ben Franklin Bridge, there was a pedestrian underpass at 4th Street. It’s a little longer and below ground, and tended to be poorly lit, which made it a little scary at nights. I know there was a high crime rate associated with the underpass and I have a dim recollection that they eventually closed it. The same thing goes for the pedestrian walks on the Benjamin Franklin Bridge—they were always accessible to us until the crime rate on the bridge got to be excessive. It wasn’t uncommon for us to walk across the Delaware and spend the day walking around “Philly.

The area around the tunnel next to the bridge was a favorite location for roller skating. The streets were relatively “vehicle-free” and the street was relatively smooth. It was also a good place to play “touch” football. Actually, we played football nearly any place that was convenient. When we played on Cedar street, the boundaries were literally from “Marge’s telephone pole” to “Jungle Jim’s Telephone pole.” Note: “Jungle Jim” got his name because he had a marvelous garden in his backyard that he tended with the utmost care. I can’t remember his real name, but we eventually found out what it was. He had a way of keeping and not returning any balls that went in his yard, which, in our humble opinion, didn’t make for a “good neighbor.” When we played football on Cedar Street, it was not unusual to hear a play such as this in the huddle, “Run deep, cut over to Mr. Bravo car, and then run to Bravo’s steps.” Cedar Street was quite narrow and there wasn’t a lot of variety in the plays. We also played ball in the “Bridge Yard.” Originally this was an open “park-like” area adjacent to the bridge on 4th Street (it eventually got fenced in—a low fence that we merely climbed over). But here the plays were more creative — “Go to the first tree on the left and go deep.” Sometimes we went to the first tree, but forgot to go around it. Good thing we were all in great shape and healed quickly.

For such a small street, we played a great number of games—most unheard of in the suburbs to which I eventually moved. I always thought it would be nice to write a book about “City Street Games.

When I was younger Main Street still had the railroad train tracks running from about 9th street to the Delaware. The railroad was the Pennsylvania Reading Seashore Line (PRSL) and was a combined freight service and passenger service. One of your contributors noted that kids frequently “hopped” the train for a short ride. This wasn’t uncommon and we all did it. I had one regrettable experience—probably unique. My father was an Engineer on that railroad—he drove the train—and he was on the engine one of the times I “hopped” it. Needless to say, that was the last time I hopped a train. Oh, yes… in addition to the tracks going down Main Street, the original “tomato truck line” went down Main Street. Hundreds of tomato trucks on their way to Campbell Soup, with “thirsty” drivers stalled in a long line, on a hot day with nothing to do but wait. All the while the local “gin mills” beckoned the drivers, while everyone along the truck waited for the drivers to give in to their silent siren song. When the drivers left the trucks, fell asleep or otherwise didn’t care, people arrived with paper bags, sacks or open hands to “shop” for tomatoes. One pastime, not usually found anywhere else, was the “tomato fight.” Youngsters from all ages, with essentially free tomatoes put them to bad use as well as good use.

The photo of young Al Bass on State Street was enlightening since I only knew Al when he was a few years older—in his teens before High School. He was in the process of getting to be “Big Al” and it was before he was “Big Bad Al.

— Ron Bravo, February 2007

Three small boys were arrested last night as lawbreakers.

John Greely, 13, of 419 Cedar Street, charged with malicious mischief and breaking and entering, was arrested by Detective John Kaighn on complaint of Carl H. Brummer, of 629 Clinton Street, manager of an American Store at Fourth and Elm Streets, who said he found the boy hiding in the cellar of the store.

The other boys, Victor Linkletter, 13, and William Hoy, 12, both of 506 Penn Street, are charged with trespassing. They were arrested by Detective Sergeant Gustave Koerner and Detectives Kaighn and Frank Crawford, who from windows of the detective bureau in new city hall, said they saw the boys on the roof of a vacant three-story building at 427 Market Street.

Climbing up the rear of the building they said they cornered the boys hiding behind a chimney, apparently planning to enter the building.

All three will be arraigned in police court today.

Arrested at Second and Main streets with a sink in their possession, two youths were given suspended six-month sentences yesterday by Police Judge Mariano. The youths, Owen Norris, 19, of 422 Cedar Street, and Richard St. John, 19, of 843 Grant Street, told Detectives William Casler and Harry Tyler they found the sink on a dump.

After a lengthy illness Charles F. Lukens, 64, of 928 Cedar Street, died yesterday. He was a bachelor and is survived by a sister, Miss Clara H. Lukens. He was a member of Broadway M. E. Church for years. The funeral will be held at 11 a. m. Monday at the funeral home of Joseph H. Murray and son, 408 Cooper Street. Burial will be at Lakeview Memorial Park, Cinnaminson.

By JOSEPH BUSLER, Courier-Post Staff

I had been a reporter for less than two years, and the Camden riot of August, 1971, was by far the biggest story I had covered.

I saw the riot begin at dusk as crowds, gathered around City Hall, became unruly when city officials wouldn’t meet with Puerto Rican community leaders. Being out on the streets of Camden during the riots didn’t seem as dangerous as it probably was because the mood of the people was more carnival-like than vicious. But we did have one reporter kidnapped (he was released unharmed), and a brick smashed into the Courier-Post car between where the late photographer Jimmy Stewart and I were seated.

Later the same night, an ominous gang surrounded me and the camera-laden Stewart at an arson scene from which firefighters and police had withdrawn because of gunfire. Fearing the worst, I talked with the gang’s leader about how we wanted to cover the riot. He finally gave me a hug and said, “You write a good story, mon!” They, or maybe it was we, left.

I wrote the main front-page story after the worst day of rioting. Reeking of tear gas, reporters pecked out their stories on old manual typewriters as the sun was coming up. As I wrote, I had a strange, almost God-like feeling because I knew I was the first person to put some kind of order onto the strange, chaotic events.

Cedar Street (1 block between Broadway and South 6th) is now a parking lot on the South side and the back of the houses on Benson Street is on north side. It was supposed to be partly a park but like many other spots in Camden it turned out to be a “PARK”-ing lot.

— Craig Campbell, November 2005