The book "Wonderful Passaic" is filled with the wonder and awe of a child growing up during World War II in the ethnic melting pot city of Passaic, New Jersey. The following vignette is from the book:

A Wonderful Day

The year was 1936 and although the country was still in the depression, my father no longer drove the coal truck. Instead he and his brother had recently opened up a small men's clothing store on the corner of Monroe Street and Lucille Place, an ethnically diverse part of Passaic. It was about two blocks from my public school. The store was called "Moe and Morris." The only time my father was ever off from work was on Sunday afternoons.

Except for one very special Saturday morning.

My father had been telling me for weeks that a miracle in the sky was going to occur on a Saturday morning, and that he knew I would want to be there to see this miracle. Of course, I was very excited. However, my enthusiasm disappeared when he told me that he would wake me up at five in the morning so we would have plenty of time to get there. It didn't help much that my sister told me that waking up at five in the morning was very dangerous. She said there would still be ghosts and boogie men around from the previous night.

But on that magic Saturday morning my father did manage to wake me up. The whole family piled into a borrowed car. In fact, the previous night I helped carry pails of water from our sink on the second floor to wash the car so it would be ready for this monumental day.

We got in the car and off we went to Teterboro Airfield about ten miles from Passaic. (There were no "airports" in 1939. They were called airfields.) Also, there were no real highways in 1939. Thus, we had to drive on narrow two lane roads and even though it was very early in the morning there was a lot of traffic, all going in our direction.

It took us about an hour to get to the airfield. When we arrived we found that an enormous crowd was already there, perhaps the largest crowd I'd ever seen. We parked the car and all of us ran to the edge of the single runway. We could see a band playing. Everybody was happy and jovial. I begged my father to tell me what was going to happen. He said, "Just wait, you'll see."

I couldn't wait. I couldn't imagine what this great event was going to be.

A little while later somebody shouted and pointed to a tiny spec of light in the sky and yelled, "THERE IT IS!" The entire crowd roared. I even roared although I had no idea what this was all about. My father roared, my mother roared, everybody roared. We watched the speck of light that began to get bigger and bigger. Finally, I realized it was an airplane, no not an airplane, a giant airplane; not a giant airplane, a super giant airplane, bigger than any airplane ever in history.

Finally, the airplane flew over the airfield and the band played and the people let balloons go and everybody cheered and jumped up and down. Then the airplane made a slow circle and landed and taxied right in the middle of the runway near us and stopped.

It was amazing. This airplane was silver and had two large wheels in its main landing gear under the wing and a little wheel under the tail. Painted on its side was "American Airlines." It was enormous.

The band was playing. Then the airplane door opened and a beautiful uniformed lady stood at the top of the stairwell. The crowd went crazy yelling.

She then stepped aside and began to allow people to climb off the monstrous airplane. As each person came down the stairs, everyone in the crowd yelled at the same time, "1", "2." The crowd got louder and louder as the number just kept going up and up. We counted "10," then "11." We couldn't believe that so many people could be on an airplane, and then "15" and even "20," and finally the last passenger got off. Twenty-one passengers in one airplane! Never before was there such an airplane and we thought never again will there be another airplane like this.

The airplane was the DC-3, the first time a commercial airliner had flown across the United States carrying passengers. It had completed the flight from California in an unbelievable two days. Even more fantastic, the airplane had to land only five times between California and New Jersey to refuel. Incredible!

And just as incredible, the airplanes top speed was 120 miles per hour. It flew at 8,000 feet altitude - - - more than one and one half miles high in the sky. It was amazing! My father told me that never before had so many people moved from such far places at such high speed in such a short period of time. My father was right. This was really a miraculous day!

Let me apologize to the readers of this book. I know you may not think it was such a miracle or even maybe not such a big deal. But you must remember that was 1936. Yes, and of course today we have jumbo jets that hold more than 400 people. Yes, they can fly over 8,000 miles non stop and yes they fly eight miles high. But that is today. Yesterday in 1936 I hugged my father and thanked him for waking me up at the ungodly hour of 5:00 in the morning when my sister said that the ghosts and boogie men were still awake. As we drove home I had convinced myself that some day I would design airplanes - - - after we got home I was so excited that I rushed to tell all my friends. After bragging about this, particularly to my friend Moishe who didn't go, I went home and decided I would splurge one of the two pennies that I had been holding in my secret saving place.

* * *

We lived near the edge of a Jewish section in Passaic's Second Ward. If you went up Hammond Avenue from where we lived there were mostly Italians. If you would have gone about one and one half blocks south towards Main Avenue on Oak Street, that would be the street of what was called the "Negro neighborhood." (Of course, there were no written rules where you could live in Passaic, but everybody sort of knew where you could live.) Separating the Jewish and Negro neighborhoods was a large old building that looked like a garage. In the back of that building was one of the most wonderful places in the city of Passaic. It was where they made fresh donuts every night for delivery in the morning.

Not only were they donuts, they were unique donuts with hard sugar on the outside, that were filled with either cream or jelly. Certainly, my favorite was jelly.

Their price was three donuts for five cents. Of course, I never had five cents at one time and I would never think of spending both pennies I had saved even for a wonderful donut. However, on special occasions, like the day that I saw this giant airplane, I would be willing to spend a penny.

Thus when sundown came, after bragging about seeing the DC-3 to all the boys under the street lamp where we usually met, I walked the block and a half and stood outside the door of the donut factory. I waited and waited until I saw two kids walking towards the door. As they got to the donut factory door, I asked what they were buying and they each said they were getting a jelly donut.

When they opened the door I walked in right behind them. The factory was laid out so there was a desk near the door where you paid your money (most of the factory business was delivering to the various grocery stores the next morning; however, they did sell to whoever walked in the door). The aroma of the donuts being cooked in oil was a heavenly smell (the memory of which I still cherish today). The first kid put down his two cents and said he wanted a jelly donut, the second kid put down two cents and said he also wanted a jelly donut. Then I walked over and put down my penny and said, "Three for five. I want a jelly donut."

The man looked up. He knew me and he knew just what I was doing, but he gave a half smile and took the penny. He then let us walk over to where the donuts were being cooked, and as soon as a fresh batch was ready he reached in and took out three hot donuts. He put one of the donuts on the little nozzle at the end of the jelly pump and pumped it once and handed it to the first boy. He then placed the second donut on the same nozzle and pumped it once and gave it to the second boy. As soon as they got their donuts they began eating and walked out. He then picked up my jelly donut and put it on the pump and pumped it four times. It looked like it would explode in a second. He smiled, gave me a large napkin, and the swollen jelly donut. I thanked him profusely.

Can you imagine! On the same day that I saw the world's largest airplane I also had a super spectacular hot fresh fully stuffed jelly donut.

Perhaps the best day of my life.

* * *

And that night in our bedroom I crossed my fingers on both hands and turned to my sister and said, "There are no such things as boogie men and ghosts" and stuck out my tongue at her. I then rolled over on my side and fell sound asleep and had wonderful dreams. When I woke up, my fingers were still crossed. They had protected me from the boogie men and ghosts.

# # #