In the years leading up to my
entry into World War II, I was a dedicated roller skater.
In an earlier "Newark
Memory" I recalled Vic Browns' New Dreamland Arena, and spending the night
of November 16, 1942 at the Frelinghuysen Avenue rink. It was the night
before I reported for induction into World War II.
On that November 16th night in
1942, as I skated on the New Dreamland rink floor, about to go off to war the
following morning, I couldn't help but wonder whether I would ever be on those
skates again, what with the uncertainty of war.
As fate would have it, before the
end of World War II, I did find myself on those very same skates one more time,
but not in Newark -- rather on a wooden floor near the mouth of the Amazon River
in South America.
If you think this sounds like the
start of a story, you guessed right! This is the story:
As part of my duties in the Army Air
Force, in 1944, I found myself stationed at Val de Cans Field, a U. S. Army air
base just outside the city of Belem, the main port for the Amazon River in
northeastern Brazil.
Our air base was a refueling spot
for American military aircraft bound to and from the various war zones in
Africa, the Middle East, China, Burma, and India. Its address was APO 603.
As my earlier New Dreamland Arena
memory states, before entering military service, I had established a warm
friendship with Vic Brown, owner/operator of the New Dreamland Arena, and head
of the RSROA (Roller Skating Rink Operators of America).
In the course of my work at the
Val de Cans air base, an abandoned and unused airplane hangar, that had been
occupied by the Germans before the War, had been turned over to me to use for
recreational purposes.
I came up with an idea, which I
proceeded to carry out.
I convinced my superior officer
that we should install a smooth wooden roller skating surface on the concrete
hangar floor. I told the officer that I had a strong friendship with Vic
Brown, a rink operator in Newark, and that he had connections with other rink
operators throughout the United States. I said I was confident that if we
built the roller skating floor for the men of the base, that I could get Brown
and his fellow rink operators to contribute some roller skates for it.
Putting the Idea into Reality
He like the idea, especially since
we had a recreation fund, and he saw an opportunity to put it to use in a
creative manner.
I signed a contract with the
carpenters union in the City of Belem who supplied the labor. We had to
agree to pay the prevailing daily wage for skilled carpenters, 10 milreis
(10,000 reis) which was the U. S. equivalent of 50 cents.
We hired 50 skilled carpenters to
build the floor for a total cost of $25 a day in labor. The base agreed to
furnish the floor materials.
Getting Ready for Operation
As the skating floor was being
erected, I did two things. First, I wrote to Vic Brown, told him about our
on-base skating rink -- possibly the first of its kind in South America -- and
told him how much it would mean for the morale of the airmen at the base.
Then, I wrote home to my parents
at 29 Montgomery Street in Newark and told them I would like to have my
"Betty Lytle" Chicago rink roller skates mailed to me in the metal carrying
case that held them.
Brown Sends Me Bad News
Vic Brown's answer came back
first. He told me that the Chicago Skate Company, that supplied all
the roller skates and parts, was totally in war work and that no skates or parts
had been supplied to roller rinks since the start of the War...that he had no
replacements for inoperable skates at his own rink, and that he couldn't spare a
single pair.
He said that other rink operators
around the country were in the same fix, and that he couldn't ask anyone else to
donate roller skates to us either, as they were all struggling to stay in
business.
I had better luck with the request
for my own roller skates. They arrived in the mail just as the skating
floor reached completion.
What I Did With My Own Skates
At a quiet time, when there was no
one else around, I opened the case, donned my skates, and took a quick spin
around the newly completed floor. It was as smooth as glass.
I then put the skates back in the
case, relabeled the carry case for a return trip to 29 Montgomery Street,
Newark, and put it in the mail.
I couldn't allow any implication
that I, a mere Army Air Force corporal, had built a private roller skating rink
for myself in the middle of a war. I knew I had to get rid of the skates
quickly.
What Happened to the Floor
Though built to be a skating
floor, the installation was not a total waste. We set up volley ball nets,
we held basketball games on the hangar floor, we staged a New Years Eve
celebration in the Hangar1,
and we even held carefully chaperoned dances on the floor with busloads of young
ladies and their minders bussed in from the City of Belem.
That's the end of my story about
my New Dreamland Arena roller skates, and their round trip to the Amazon.
I still have those skates in the same metal case. Though untouched for
more than half a century and resting on a remote shelf in my backyard garage,
the case carries in it a treasury of joyful skating memories of my early years.
Email this memory to a friend.
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