Anonymous Niagara Gazette The Niagara Gazette Tue Nov 29, 2011, 10:59 PM EST
COLUMN BY BILL BRADBERRY — Huddled against the chilled mist soaked gusts sweeping up from the bottom of the great gorge, lost somewhere in the middle of the murmuring crowd, I stood with a warm cup of hot spiced apple cider at the foot of Old Falls Street within view of a dazzling 8-year-old girl spinning like a bejeweled princess alone on the ice rink, surrounded by cheering revelers gathered together to welcome the long lost Christmas Spirit back to what will once again become the heart beat of downtown Niagara Falls, New York.
Having earlier strolled the length of the strip several times with my good friend A.B. Ray and a few others old enough to remember Falls Street in her heyday, I was well schooled in what used to be there, and of course, I have my own vivid memories of the street decked out in her Christmas best from side-to-side with lush decorations, wall-to-wall shoppers and all of the sights, sounds and smells that still ring loud and clear in my memory as if it was just yesterday.
I remembered Santa’s arrival with his entire entourage, elves and all in the big Christmas parades complete with marching bands, gifts, and candy galore for everybody; I can still see the stores that once lined the streets, fully decorated and shopper saturated.
Most school kids back then had Christmas Clubs. Sponsored by the banks and local merchants, the clubs were actually year-long savings plans. As I recall, we’d open up accounts at the local banks, deposit a dollar or two per week all year long, and come Christmas time, we’d redeem our little savings books, withdraw our money and go shopping on Falls Street. We loved it as much as the merchants.
Between me and my sisters, we saved and spent a small fortune down there buying gifts for each other, our school mates and especially for our parents. Back then, it was safe for school kids to shop without any kind of fear whatsoever. In fact, sometimes an entire class would go as a group, and other than the typical rambunctiousness of youth, we were relatively well- mannered, besides; anybody who dared to behave otherwise was dealt with swiftly and completely, and most of us were just too busy having fun to be bothered with the trouble of getting in trouble.
As we strolled closer to the ice rink, A.B. pointed out a few of the spots where some of the places we once knew had stood. We stopped for a moment to talk with one of the vendors whose little specialty shop, one of about 20 or so arranged as part of Mark River’s Holiday Market, this one was close to where Niesners used to stand. “I spent more than a few dollars in there” I laughed as I picked through the shop’s merchandise. “I’ll be back,” I promised as we moved on to the next booth.
The farther we walked, the more we agreed, “This could work” said A.B., his eyes taking in the present crowd curious, but hesitant shoppers as a clear indication of what could happen in the future, “if people will give it a chance.” I agreed and we kept walking, remembering and planning.
And I did go back a few days later to be there for the ceremonial lighting of the Christmas tree. My warm cup of spiced apple cider in hand, I made my way close to the ice rink where I took a seat on one of the jagged big rocks moved there last year to add to the ambiance of the street reminding residents and travelers alike of the geography that surrounds us at Niagara.
The conservative lighting in the bare trees that line Old Falls Street seemed to perfectly frame the view looking west out toward the Canadian skyline with the ice rink sitting exactly where it should be just outside the entrance to the State Park, a welcoming seasonal touch to those arriving into the city from the Falls.
I could not help but to think of Charles Dickens’s 1843 novel, “A Christmas Carol” as I sat there thinking about Falls Street’s Ghosts of Christmas Past, its Ghosts of Christmas Present and her Ghosts of Christmas Yet to Come.
We have our share of Ebenezer Scrooges whom Dickens described as “…squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, covetous, old sinner” characters willing to “bah humbug” every effort made to do just about anything here, let alone anything for Christmas.
But we also have a good number of Jacob Marleys who thank goodness finally seem to be clearly outnumbering the Scrooges.
Isn’t it time to put away the worst of the past, to embrace the best of it, and move forward into the future, creating the kinds of life long, lasting memories like those that I and most of the kids my age who grew up here can fondly recall?
After watching the Christmas tree lighting, watching the glee and real honest to goodness joy in the eyes of all of the kids and some of the parents when Santa arrived, I made my way back to my car with a song in my heart. By the time I got there I was singing: “Silver Bell, Silver Bells, Its Christmas time in the city… city sidewalks, busy sidewalks…”
Contact Bill Bradberry at bill.bradberry@yahoo.com
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