Family got Shoes(c)2019

Once upon a time, before shoes had red painted soles, and cost a literal fortune, there was a magical place called “The Shoe-House Block”. It was on Stone Avenue, between Riverdale and Newport Streets.

After the essential corner candy store, the entire Brownsville block was attached 2-family shingled houses with steps, climbing up to wooden porches. Over each porch swung a metal sign of a large black shoe.

Every first floor contained bare windows, through which from the street, one could see into the brightly lit shops. There were shelves floor- to -ceiling of endless boxes of shoes. The rest of the inventory was kept down in the basement. Each owner/shopkeeper lived in the rear of the shop with his family.

On the 2nd floor lived a family of renters. This was the set-up of the row of dwellings, known by the neighborhood, as the Shoe-House Block.

Entire families would purchase their shoes there, season after season. Feet both small and narrow, large and wide, would be fitted carefully. Babies would have their chubby, tiny feet held flat, (on the metal measuring piece), by the shoe expert, as they were sized for their first pair. The beaming parents trusted the patient shopkeeper for this milestone in their lives.

For us children, he would leave extra room for growth, as much as possible, since he understood our immigrant parents couldn’t afford to buy shoes… frequently. Before each sale was rung up, he would ask,” Would you like taps on the heels, and toes of the new shoes, for one dollar more”?

“Yes please”, the adults would always answer, for this would make the shoes last longer. (Remember that we walked, or skated, or jumped rope, or played ball on the rough, old cement sidewalks of Brooklyn). Even with taps on our shoes, sometimes we had to use cardboard to cover holes in their soles, until we could get new ones.

For the summer, we girls would get sandals white or red. In winter, laced oxfords.

I have a sweet memory of my immaculately polished white sandals as I skipped home for lunch, from P.S.184, one sunny June day. I was about 8 and the school was on the next block. My feet felt so good in my sandals, so happy to know I didn’t need to wear my heavy brown oxfords…it was really summer! Hooray!