I guess I'm still that Coventry guy

I don't know why, but this vintage photo from Coventry in the early '80s just popped up. I mean, I didn't mention it in the story or anything, so, you know, pretty random . . .

I was at a party a few months ago, talking to a friend, a longtime Coventry Road business owner. Someone he knew walked over to us, and my friend introduced me to her, saying, “You might read his column in the Heights Observer. He writes about Coventry.”

That surprised me, because this column isn’t about Coventry. But, on the other hand, I guess I do write about Coventry quite a bit. I grew up in that neighborhood, and I was there when it changed, in the late 1960s. And both Coventrys—before and after—were important in my life. And I have a lot of memories of it. Plus, I’ve never stopped going there.

Both of my parents grew up right there, too, so I also know Coventry’s history. In fact, I’ve presented two talks about Coventry’s history at the Coventry Village Library. People often talk to me about Coventry, even, sometimes, strangers who somehow recognize me from that little photo up there, that I keep saying I should update. They usually start the conversations with the word “remember”—“Remember the appliance store on Coventry?”; or “Remember when Tommy’s was still in the drug store?”; and so on.

So, the next time you see me, we can talk about these places:

In the 1950s, there was an alleged toy store called Henry’s. It was on west side of the street, in the middle block (between Hampshire and Lancashire). There were toys in the window, but the display never changed, ever. And if kids walked in, well, first, there was usually no one in the room, but then some gruff old man, or two, would enter through a door in the back—actually, through a dirty, old curtain—and yell at the kids to get out. It occurred to me when I grew up that this had to be a front for something.

Which, in a way reminds me of a popular spot in the ‘70s, on the other side of the street. Because of what I’m going to say about it, I won’t give its name, but I’ll say that it was on COVENTRY and it sold BEVERAGES and PIZZA. It was open very late, like till 2 or 3 a.m. I’m always up then, so when I lived near there, I would wander around and eventually wander in there for a bottle of 7-Up, which, by then, was the strongest thing I drank.

One night, I was standing near the counter, which was in the middle of the store, just kind of hanging around. A Cleveland Heights policeman came in and picked up a pack of chewing gum, which then cost five cents, and handed the man behind the counter a one-dollar bill. The man behind the counter gave the officer his change—ten 10-dollar bills. As I said in last month’s column, I was never very good at math, but I could figure that one out.

In the ‘50s and early ‘60s, Coventry had three good bakeries. For years, when I was a kid—and I mean from when I was about 8 till I was 18—my mother had me go to one of them (I don’t remember which one; though I remember where it was, what it looked like and how it smelled) every Friday after school to buy a challah and a rye bread. And every time—and I’m talking maybe 50 times a year for 10 years—the same older woman waited on me. And every single time, when I would ask for a challah, she’d ask, “Sliced?” and I’d say, “Yes.” And every time I asked for the rye bread, she’d ask, “Sliced?” I’d say, “Yes.” She’d ask, “Mit kimmel?” (“with seeds”), and I’d say yes. Five hundred times.

Another place I used to go, every other week, all through my childhood, was Fana’s Barbershop. The owner, Joe Fana, was a nice guy who spoke with an Italian accent. Once, when I was about 10, I came home and told my mother that Joe was telling his friends that he’s going to be a polar bear tomorrow. She asked what the rest of the conversation was about, and I said he was talking about going to his friend’s funeral.

Here’s a place no one seems to remember: In the late ‘70s, there was a good Italian restaurant called Brunati’s where the Inn on Coventry is now. I was in that restaurant only once, playing music there, filling in for a friend. So, I don’t have much to say about the place, except that I seem to be the only one who remembers it. But if you do, and you see me somewhere, let me know—about that, and about other Coventry places you remember. There were many. And I probably have stories about a lot of them.