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WALT TRIZNA: DOWNNECK NEWARK

DOWNNECK

I began my life on August 1947 in Newark, New Jersey, the Down Neck section, and lived in that city, in the same house, the same cold water flat for nearly twenty years.  This section of Newark is still known by this name for a few years ago, on a train to New York with my wife and two daughters, we passed a sign for a pizza place that stated, ‘ A DOWN NECK TRADITION’.  My hometown is along the eastern edge of the city, not far from Newark Bay and the bridges leading into Jersey City.  It is also referred to, as the Ironbound Section, gaining its name from the railroad tracks that ring the area and known for the light and heavy industry.  Small factories existed amongst the two and four family homes and tenements that predominated the area. The mingling of homes and factories was a mixture ready for disaster.  Even the Passaic River, flowing through the area was known to catch fire.

 One Good Friday afternoon, during my teenage years, while getting ready for church I noticed the sky turning black.  At first I thought a storm was approaching but soon realized that somewhere a huge fire was burning.  I went outside to see what was going up in flames.  Immediately, I was being joined by scores of people seeking the same exciting rush of a fire.  Walking up Ferry Street, one of the major streets of the area, I could see that the coke trestle was on fire.  As I approached to within a couple of blocks of the source of all the smoke, fifty-five-gallon drums full of God knows what began to explode. The situation went from the usual spectacle of a fire to people running for their lives as the drums shot flames into the air and rained debris – smoking pieces of trestle – down around the scattering people who had moments before been spectators.  Needless to say, everyone got out of there fast.  Some had to go home and wet down their roofs because some of the debris and embers were falling and starting other houses on fire.  This made for a memorable afternoon; ten to fifteen houses along with the trestle were lost. 

Our house was lucky, because we stood literally in the shadows of Balentine Brewery.   Across the street from our house was a four-story building, which was part office building, part garage and truck wash located on the lower level.  This structure, along with many others on the surrounding city blocks, owned by Balentine, created Newark’s life’s blood, Balentine beer and ale.  This building stood between the fire and us, so it bore the brunt of the embers and debris raining down on the houses on my block.

The reason I mention this event is to lend a flavor to what life was like back then, and what life was like in Newark.  Life happened and the consequences accepted – right or wrong – that’s how it was and when life went less than perfectly, you just moved on.  Life did not always treat people well, but they endured, didn’t whine about their state in life.  They took responsibility for their actions.  They all didn’t prosper, yet people didn’t step on one another to get ahead.

Things were not always politically correct either.  In fact, I cannot recall anything about my time as a youth in Newark that was politically correct.  For example, I once had a math teacher toward the end of my high school career with a bit of a temper.  One day during class, there were a few guys talking in the rear of the classroom.  My teacher blew up.  He yelled at the class, “Do you know what is wrong with you guys?  Not enough of you drop out of school.  If you don’t want to learn, you’re wasting everyone’s time by staying in school.  You’re just holding people who want to learn back.”   I do not think there exists the honesty today to say that before a class of unruly students.

People were once able to observe the world, analyze their surroundings, draw on their common sense and speak their mind.  That age is long gone, but it still echoes Down Neck’s past.  The talking heads of today say we all have the same potential if only given the right circumstances or drug therapy. Nonsense!  Twelve years or more of education are given free to each member of our society.  Granted, the conditions under which the education is applied varies along a wide spectrum.  And when there is a breakdown in the educational goals meant to be accomplished, as happens all to often, it is always the fault of the system and never the individual.  The usual solution is to throw more money at the problem, but until the real problem is addressed, this will never help.  The individual student along with their parents carries the burden of responsibility and the older the student the more directly responsible for their education.  These seem to be times of a total lack of responsibility of the individual.  Whenever someone makes a really boneheaded move, there is always something that happened to him either done by his family or society that was the cause of that action.  We live in a time of not guilty because of whatever reason other than my own actions.  Of course, in some cases a person’s life gets completely out of control, but the excuses people create these days for their actions is sometimes unbelievable.

The theory that we all have the same potential also totally negates that one thing that has, in my eyes, an influence equal to education in persons potential, the influence of personality.  Those who succeed are those who realize they must seize the opportunity, the knowledge and go forward.  It takes personal drive, ambition and purpose along with a strong education.  This is the combination that makes a successful individual.

And what is success?  This can mean so many different quantities, depending on an individual.  Does success mean money, fame, family, a life free of conflict or a life full of conflict and challenge?  The levels, the goals we attain, depend to a large extent on education.  But what we do when we arrive at our goals and the life we mold around those accomplishments depends on personality.

I know I digress, but the purpose of this effort is to point out my view of the mindset of today and how my upbringing, my environment has formed my mindset.  So we’ll return now to my past, to Newark’s past, and see this mindset take form.

Balentine brewery ruled the Down Neck section of Newark, with a major factory and office complex that stretched for blocks.  Across from our house was the office and garage. Next to that building was a parking lot that stretched to the next parallel street, and taking up the last third of the block was the catholic school, which was part of Saint Aloysius parish.  The brewery’s lot was a remarkable sight when a storm was approaching, with workers just standing there waiting, leaning on their snow shovels looking toward the sky.  God help the first snowflake that fell and all its partners for they were gone in an instant.  Our street was never clogged with snow; the beer trucks had to roll out of the parking lot unhampered.  They did not move the snow they removed the snow, taking and dumping it in the Passaic River.  At times, long after the parking lot was cleared of snow, the city streets were opened.  The beer was delivered but the city government took a while to get going.

As I mentioned earlier, the building across from our house housed the truck wash for cleaning the beer trucks and the tractor trailer cabs, an endless procession of dark blue trucks sporting three golden rings.  Our street was a narrow street with parking on both sides, and the locals knew not to park their cars directly across from the truck wash exit.  Now the reason lies in the fact that they knew that instead of coffee breaks some of the drivers took beer breaks.  Once the truck was washed, they would have to exit the building and make a sharp left, and sometimes the left was not quite sharp enough, as the unsuspecting person who found a good parking spot and could not figure out why it was vacant found out when they returned to their slightly bent automobiles.

Some of the trucks used for the brewery were themselves interesting.  They were old trucks with hard rubber tires and driven by a chain drive connected to the rear axle.  But somehow these trucks did not look out of place going down my street because for much of my early youth my street was paved with cobblestone.  So, these trucks would rattle down my street carrying their loads of used grain from the brewery, stubbornly resisting progress.

Change seemed to come slowly to Newark in its vehicles and its people.  We lived just four blocks from Hawkins Street School. Hawkins Street was a typical ‘Down Neck’ street with parking on both sides and just enough room for two-way traffic.  It was the same elementary school my mother attended.  In fact, her family once lived across the street from the school.  While I was attending elementary school, two of her sisters and a brother, all of whom were unmarried, continued to live in the same two-family house rented by their parents.

While attending Hawkins Street School, I had the same first grade teacher my mother had and after that another two or three teachers that taught her. When we had an open house, and my mother would walk with me through the corridors of the school she once attended, she would point out changes in the school that had been made since she attended.  The gym in use while I was there was new, however, the faded markings of the basketball court from the old gym were still on the floor of some of the nearby classrooms.

I have not returned to my grammar school since I graduated, with the exception of one of my sister’s graduations, but I have heard reports of the changes that have taken place from my nieces who also attended Hawking Street School.  The changes were not for the best, gone is the library – classrooms, the cafeteria – is being used for classrooms.  Changes happen to old cities and schools, and they are not always for the better. But people endure.  People who want to learn, who want to succeed, seem to be able to do so in spite of the circumstances, in spite of what life has dealt with them.  That is why, to this day, and it seems to increase with age, I have little sympathy for those who complain that everything is not going as it should for them to reach their full potential.  I honestly feel that there is something inside us all – call it a spark – call it will or destiny – call it a road we start at birth and end at death, but we must be more than just a traveler, we must take control.  Too many times, we look around and see what the world seems to offer and settle for the inevitable.  Our future is in our hands if we only have the courage to grasp our potential and pursue our goals.

My mother’s fate was tied to Newark and so was that of some of her friends.  I became friends with two boys who were the sons of friends my mother had in school.  With one of these friends, I completed twelve years of school.  I chanced to meet this friend after I had attended an out-of-state college and spent four years in the military, he had not left home.  We no longer had anything in common. It was not the fact that I had left, and he had stayed, people just change. 

The old neighborhood seemed to resist change.  It was small, compact, and is to some extent to this day.  You walked to church, you walked to school, and even downtown Newark was a short bus ride or a healthy walk away from my home.  Nowadays, my kids have to be driven everywhere.  They make no decision about whether or not to attend mass; I the driver have that power.  When I was a kid, you looked out the parlor window and saw the church steeple two blocks away and heaven help you – literally – if you missed church.  When you could walk, you were in control.

These are some of the memories, the feelings that remain with me of ‘Down Neck’ Newark, New Jersey.  Time tends to erase the harsh memories; time and distance tend to smooth the rough edges.  What I wanted to show here was that my hometown was not perfect, it was real.  I know that there were better neighborhoods than mine, many not too far away, but I look at where I have come from and what I am and see the mark my youth has left.  The past I carry within me, for better or worse, has made me the person that I am.  And sometimes, in the situations that life presents, I am glad I carry within me a small part of ‘Down Neck’ Newark, and approach life not to grieve for what I don’t have but rejoicing for what I possess. 

September 20, 2025 at 5:02 pm Leave a comment