Teen Hangouts, Havens & Gathering Places

Al Koch June 2023

In the 40s, 50s, and 60s, BC (before computers) teenagers talked face-to-face to one another.  Occasionally there would be a special need and reason for privacy, and conversations would be conveyed person-to-person via the telephone.  Private confidential talks required the use of public phone booths to evade eavesdropping, or the prying ears of siblings and overprotective parents.  For a few nickels adolescents could confer, confide, and converse about personal feelings without risking disclosure, ridicule, or embarrassment.

During school, students in different classes wrote notes to one another throughout the day. Written on looseleaf notebook paper and folded into a tight packet. They were clandestinely delivered personally or by a trusted third party during the passing period or washroom break. These handwritten pencil and penned adolescent bulletins addressed personal thoughts, plans, questions, gossip, and teenage concerns. Operating an efficient underground system of postal service prowess, these personal notes flowed from writer to recipient flawlessly.  In a wonderfully admirable way, the “mail” always got through.  An essential fringe benefit engendered by these in-school notes served as teasers to encourage classmates to share after-school get-togethers on street corners, Community Center, and designated hangouts.

In Whiting, there are several legendary locales where teens gathered to socialize, nurture friendship, and bond. The Mecca was the Whiting Community Memorial House, commonly referred to as the Community Center, or just the “Center.”  This municipal oasis served area residents with a variety of facilities and activities:  swimming, basketball weightlifting, handball, bowling, billiards, checkers, chess, table tennis, baby showers, wedding showers, auditorium programs, photography club, meeting rooms for civic organizations. Industrial associations, television programs, and pay telephones.  

One of the most vitally important Community Center services, provided community youngsters a safe and secure place to socialize with friends and peers.  Open seven days a week, the Center welcomed Whiting-Robertsdale’s children, students, and young adults.  Here they found a haven to share, socialize, and enjoy youthful times. 

Because spontaneity and impulsive decisions are a hallmark of adolescence, impromptu random meetings blossomed everywhere.  The “street-corner-seminars” were conducted both by happenstance and design.  Usually, the corners of 119th and Clark Street, in front of the corner Walgreens drug store, and the Central Drugs, New York Avenue and 119th Street were prime locations of choice.  Both businesses featured soda fountains, booths, and ample area for kids to congregate without impeding the flow of customer entry and exit.

After-school mini sessions where the day’s events were re-hashed and reported were supplemented with fountain-made cherry-Cokes, phosphates, and bags of Mrs. Klein’s potato chips, whose slogan: “Untouched by human hands” always engendered comedic remarks as potato chips were passed among classmates.  At Central Drugstore, a small Coca-Cola cost a nickel.   Those big spenders had to stand by the fountain area.  Patrons who purchased a large, carbonated drink for ten cents could sit on one of the soda fountain stools.  To sit in a booth, each occupant needed to spend twenty-five cents or more—milk shakes, sodas, etc.  The costliest, a banana split, cost 45 cents.  If a guy was buying a milkshake for his girlfriend (which was often the case,)  two milkshakes could be enjoyed for the price of one banana split.

At Walgreens soda fountain counter seats were available to all.  Many afternoons, after a tiring baseball practice at Standard Diamonds, I’d trudge to Walgreens, sit at the counter, even though I didn’t have any money and order a “large lumber float.”  The knowledgeable, well-seasoned soda-fountain barkeep would fill a glass with ice cubes, cold water, add a straw, and top with a toothpick.  (Walgreens never charged for just a glass of water.)

Later, when my cash flow improved due to my job as pinsetter at the Community Center’s bowling alley, I would be financially solid enough to buy a strawberry milk shake, forego the counter stool, and sit in a booth.  The milk shake was prepared in the mixer’s tall metal cup.  The accompanying serving glass contained a dollop of whipped cream for added flavor. The final touch was a packet of wo cookies.  For twenty-five cents, this was a teenage feast!  Because of more pressing expenditures, milk shakes were a luxury and ordered only occasionally.

It was common for teenagers to congregate close to a food supply.  Conversation, camaraderie, and friendship bonding always seems more enjoyable when supplemented by munching on candy bars, chewing gum, siphoning soft drinks through a straw, or crunching snacks food. Even though there were several establishments along 119th Street and throughout Whiting-Robertsdale that featured soda fountains, ice cream, and snacks, (J. J. Newberry’s, F. W. Woolworth’s, and Dave’s Rexall Drug Store for example), that were well patronized. However, the two most prominent and preferred locations for teen gatherings were on 119th Street corners—New York Avenue’s Central Drug Store, and Clark Street’s Walgreens.

In the 40s, Whiting High School students had their own hangout at Gambini’s, in a building constructed in 1921, Located at 1440 119th Street across from Whiting’s City Hall.  Next door to the west, was Jack Wargo’s Insurance Co., and on the east side—Vic’s (Orr), Radio and Electrical Store. Originally the Gambini family opened a confectionery in 1937.  However, by the mid 1940s, Gambini’s had become a  teen hangout for both girls and boys.  Here they could enjoy, ice cream, pastries, hot dogs, Coca-Cola, French fries, and grilled hamburgers.

From 1947 to 1952, Gambini’s reigned as the “Chez Paree” for Whiting High School students. WHS students went there after school to re-hash the days’ happenings, grab an after-school snack, and feed the jukebox.  Each booth had its own jukebox selector where kids could change money into music: a dime a record, or 3-plays for a quarter.

Top Hits from 1948 through 1952 included Because, by Perry Como, It’s Magic, by Doris Day, and Until, by Tommy Dorsey. A variety of artists filled moments-to-remember times via the loudspeaker of the Wurlitzer.  Regardless of youthful music preferences, the jukebox feasted on a steady diet of coins fed by Whiting High School teens as they enjoyed time with classmates.

Along with Friday dances and evening programs, Gambini’s was the place to be seen after high school football and basketball games.  For 25 cents, students could enjoy a small Coke and fries.  The hamburgers were 25 cents.  Ice cream cost a dime, and a cup of coffee, five cents.

Gambini’s was owned by two family brothers—Tom and Harry.  Their parents we always in the establishment helping or monitoring the customers.  Occasionally, Tom and Harry’s dad grilled the burgers. Gambini’s was the “Hot Spot” on 119th Street. The business opened in the morning, and at lunch time, some of Whiting’s high school teachers went there for lunch.  Usually, Gambini’s closing time was 10:30 p.m.

After school, the school crowd took over the sidewalk in front of Gambini’s as well as the businesses on either side. Freshman and sophomore students had to make a path through junior and senior classmates to get inside.  Years later, former WHS students and Gambini patrons remembered the good moments and friendships.  A fringe benefit were the many romances that began during Gambini’s years in business. Several couples entered holding hands and spent a lifetime together holding hearts.               

Early in 1949, Gambini’s closed.  It wouldn’t take long before another location-- for the first time on 119th Street’s northside--became the exclusive haven for male students at Whiting High School: Nick’s Snooker and Pinball Emporium.

Officially, the business name was Spiro’s Recreation.  Shortly before Gambini’s closed, Nick Spiro opened his recreation parlor at 1405 119th Street in 1948.  It featured snooker, pocket billiards, pinball, and a grill that served a tasty fare of sandwiches, burgers, and snacks.  By the mid-fifties, a black and white television set provided added entertainment exclusively for teenaged Whiting High School boys while they enjoyed their grilled cuisine.

As soon as a guy became a freshman at Whiting High School, he was automatically granted membership at Nick’s—the store-sized country club for teen boys. (Note: For this writer my “membership” was from 9-54 through 6-58.)  Located a couple of doors eat of Sheridan Avenue on the north side of 119th Street, this sanctuary for pubescent males was a place where a kid could unwind and relax after a hard day of adolescence. Except for Nick’s wife and daughter, this was strictly a male domain. Decorated in pinball and snooker, Nick’s didn’t offer much in architectural splendor or décor. The building was built in 1912.  What it did offer was an adolescent atmosphere and ambiance that showcased the comfort and latitude of a less restrictive haven where a guy could bloviate, congregate, and carry-on without being hassled by grownups.  At Nick’s, the “Welcome Mat” was always on display!

The front windows of this urban clubhouse displayed a landscape of several potted plants, that resembled a mini forest, sustained by a mist-like olive-based humidity. A few of the more exotic horticultural varieties thrived on the dappled sunlight that struggled its way through hazy window glass coated with layers of spent cooking grease, tars from smoked cigarettes, and a generous deposit of atmospheric grime generated by Calumet Region mills, factories, and refineries.  Architecturally, it was an eye-catching hometown tableau.

It was rumored the windowpanes had never known the cleaning caress of Windex. The bare wooden oak flooring was well-worn and displayed countless scuff marks from schoolboys’ shoes.  Illuminated by pinball, snooker table, and ceiling lighting, the marred flooring was a trophy of adolescence. Daily maintenance kept the dark, soil-stained floorboards comparatively free of debris.  The floors’ foot traffic scars were like badges of honor from one generation to the next.

Upon entering this teen snooker and pinball palace, one’s sinuses were immediately cleared by inhaling suspended airborne droplets elevated into the atmosphere from one of Nick’s featured grill entrees.  Nick’s menu was spartan—burgers, fires, and occasional grilled cheese, and a couple of concoctions listed on the menu board as “Specials.”

Because there was only a single porcelain lifesaver in the closet-sized restroom, orders for “specials” were limited. Using the backroom lavatory left lasting impressions. This was a basic, functional comfort station: a small wash basin with no faucet handle on the hot water valve, and a cold water tap that dripped incessantly. There was a well-worn vitreous porcelain throne sporting a moisture saturated, stained seat. Attached to the wall was a blotchy mirror dulled to reflect images. The six-foot square room was illuminated by a single 60-watt bare bulb whose switch had long ago failed--so it burned constantly. The most striking accessory in this headquarters for relief and discharge was the battered, mildewed, empty dispenser for Doughboy Prophylactics—a leftover from a long-ago previous business.  Altogether, the appliances and accessories engendered the ambiance of a teenage truck stop.

Snooker was played at a penny a minute, on a first-come, first-serve basis. Nick would write your name and the time on a chalkboard. When the game was finished, you paid—no arguments. Despite this unsophisticated recordkeeping system, Nick was accurate. Every now and then, Nick would give you a few minutes on the house—free.  He was the best!

The pinball machines were another story; they never gave anyone a break. The appetite of those coin vultures was insatiable. They ate dimes voraciously. Every evening teenaged pinball wizards would feed coins to these electrified bandits of buzzers, bells, and flashing lights hoping to win free games. A few achieved victories, with fingers weakened from frantically working the flipper buttons hours on end. Most, however, quit after their limited finances had been consumed by the Bally and Williams coin gluttons.  In final acts of frustration, dominated by vigorous shaking, pounding, and swearing, the defeated players were left staring at the flashing TILT sign.

Entertainment was not limited to pinball and snooker. Nick also provided his young patrons with free TV. Placed strategically in a darkened rear area of his establishment was a deluxe 16-inch black-and-white Motorola television and seating via one wooden bench.   As soon as the 3:38 dismissal bell sounded at Whiting High School, guys would go directly to Nick’s to sit in shadows illuminated by the television’s phosphorescence screen, capture a seat on the bench and check out the latest fads, fashions, and music on American Bandstand.   Immediately after its debut on ABC Television on August 6, 1957, American Bandstand became the Nation’s number one, must watch, 5-days-a-week television show for teenagers.   Broadcast locally from 3 to 5 pm, after-school chores were often delayed or set aside.

In between munching snacks and sipping soft drinks, guys would joke and kid one another about important teenage topics—girls and associated activities. These daily visits with Dick Clark’s from the Philadelphia television studios of WFIL, kept Nick’s grill skills well-honed, as orders of burgers disappeared down hungry adolescent male gullets.

To a first-time customer entering Nick’s, the impact on the senses was exhilarating! Immediately, one was awash in a torrent of stimuli. Eyes were flooded with a rainbow of colors from neon, pinball machines lighted graphics, green felt-covered slate snooker tables flooded with light, and the room itself. Sounds from television, active energized flippers and bumpers, colliding ivory colorfully numbered spheres and lively youthful voices showered ears with good vibrations.  Aromas from cigarettes, grill grease, and every nook and cranny offered a smorgasbord of fragrance.  When blended by the youthful observer, the overall effect was intoxicating!  It was a banquet of sights, sounds, and celebration of friendship.  This guy-only sanctuary epitomized what being a teenager in Whiting in the 50s was all about.

Welcoming each new customer to this pubescent parlor was Nick himself. He’d ask you your name and explain the rules.  It didn’t take long before you realized when aggravated, Nick could swear up a storm. Even though his language on occasion was saltier than his burgers, Nick was fair-minded and genuinely enjoyed his youthful clientele.

This writer’s favorite teen hangout: The Oil Can, opened in the fall of 1956.  Located away from the main 119th Street thoroughfare, this teen haven was on the southwest corner of John Street and White Oak Avenue, across the Street from Immaculate Conception Rectory, Grotto, and Church/School.  The former location of Chandik’s family-owned tavern. Aptly named to welcome all the “Whiting High’s Oilers,”  it opened during my junior year and quickly became the destination of choice for Whiting High School classmates. Like Gambini’s, the Oil Can welcomed both guys and girls. There were tables where friends and classmates could enjoy soft drinks, chat, and listen to jukebox favorites. It was sparsely decorated but had a cozy, inviting atmosphere to fit a teen.

The star attraction was the AMI Model i chrome & glass jukebox, fully stocked with current Top 40 hits.  For a quarter of a dollar, patrons could make three selections, and enjoy the latest pop tunes being played on the radio. Kids with cash-flow problems could play one song for a dime.

To this day, 60 plus years later, I still remember dropping my quarter in the slot and punching in the letters and numbers of my first three selections: Love Is Strange, by Mickey & Silvia, Moonlight Gambler, by Frankie Lane, and Jim Lowe’s Green Door.

Unfortunately, the Oil Can was short-lived. The pastor of Immaculate Conception Parish did not find favor or appreciate having a teen hangout across the street from the Rectory, Grotto, Church, and School.  Nor was he a fan of Rhythm & Blues, Do-Wop, or Rock ‘n’ Roll music.  He made it quite clear to the owners that he wanted that “…mecca for juvenile delinquency” closed.” Within a few months, the owners acquiesced to the Pastor’s ecclesiastical pressure and shuttered the Oil Can.

Recalling these “coming of age” moments after more than six decades engender mixed emotions. The hours invested in Whiting’s teen hangouts were therapeutic. The time spent was a welcome respite from the sometime challenging, uncertainty, and insecure adolescent years.  Today, the remembrance of being a teenager are treasures of the heart.

The hours enjoyed at the Community Center, the random street corner seminars, the cultivated camaraderie at Nick’s and The Oil Can, contributed to adolescent socialization by nurturing self-image, strengthening social skills, and self-confidence. We nurtured friendship and strengthened bonds of belonging with classmates and peers. But like most things in life, time passed too quickly. After graduation it was time to move more deliberately into the adult world. One day you realize that your turn at being young is over; that you no longer belong to those times. Still, it’s nice to look back in life’s rear-view mirror to see what you can see; and it warms the heart to touch those things of what we used to be.