Bethpage-Tribune_1979-07-12

              VOL. 14 NO. 4 Thursday, July 12, 1979 20 cents per copy
A New Home For An Old Court
Frank Gagliardo occasionally made it to
the north side of the basketball court behind
the red brick building that was the Powell
Avenue School. But Frank's game was soft-ball
as everyone knew. Many times he rode
that "official clincher" over 400 feet.
Frank played to win, yet he was the kindest
and best sport on the field. And maybe that's
why he rarely played on the north court.
Frank once finished second in a flapjack-eating
contest. A big kid, (the biggest around -
but all muscle) Frank quit at 26 flapjacks -
two short. But then the nut that beat him also
went on to drink ten 16 oz cokes at Ruby's to
win a dollar bet and drink 60 shots of beer in
an hour to win a much bigger bet.
Anyway, the reason Frank comes to mind,
you had to cross through the Gagliardo's
property if you were coming up north on
Broadway. It was the quickest way to the
court. You walked by the side of the big blue
and white house waving to whoever was
sitting on the front porch, and climbed the
school fence in back of "Gigs" property. You
used the branches of the twin pines to hoist
you over. The pines are still there but "Gig's"
house is gone. So is Gig.
The Gagliardos, along with the rest of the
block between Nibbe Lane and Powell
Avenue, sold their homes. The road was
widened and a small cluster of stores were
added to Broadway. Frank went into the
Marines. It was a peacetime. He was the first
Bethpager to die in a strange sounding
country called Viet Nam. Frank Gagliardo
died early.
And we mourned him deeply.
It was good that he occasionally made it to
the North side of the court. Few kids ever did.
Very few full-court games were played on
the court. Mostly it was three-a-side. Half-court.
Occasionally four-a-side and
sometimes two-on-two. If the Rozzis and the
Looneys dominated the baseball field, Paul
Dana Jr., John Leo, Willie Elinger and
"Pasta" Messina couldn't care less. They
owned the court. The north court that is. They
were the "big guys". They started on the
court at the end of the war and they grew up
on that court. They were still playing on the
court in their twenties.
One thing that made the games exciting,
was the height of the hoop, it was only nine
feet high. The backboard was square, made of
metal, with holes perforating it. It made a
great metalic sound when the ball was
smashed against it. And the ball had to be
smashed sometimes because their was a dead
area in the board.
If the court was vacant, kids would move to
the north court and test it out. But when the
big guys came, in their cars, the kids would
stop their game and move south. No one had
to say anything. It was just understood.
In the early fifties, the big guys had to face
some pretenders to their throne. Al Blesi,
Mike Cornicelli, Jerry Groan and Ritchie
Kaufman didn't believe. They were taught.
The latter group was good though, and
sometimes they played with big guys. Not all
of the big guys were coming to the court as
frequently. This happens. They were going
out with girls. And as anyone from the south
court could tell you, "That can ruin your
game."
With the court open more, a new group
started to take command. They didn't realize
they'd be the last. They were the last group
that would graduate from the red brick
schoolhouse and move on to Farmingdale
High. They would be the last of the nor-thcourters.
Kids like,. Ralph Camerlengo, Joe
"Doc" Melone, Davie Croan, Vinnie Cor­nicelli,
Jim Winters and John "The Line"
Schmeiser.
John got his knickname from the court. He
took his shots from a line that ran through the
court. He was deadly from there. Even­tually,
south-courters came to regard this
new group as the big buys. They played
through their high school years and beyond.
Their lives revolved around the court. One
year, they created a fictional league, the
CBA, with fictional two-man teams. By the
time the playoffs came around, even the
south-courters became involved. One of the
south-courters did a play by play broadcast of
the games. In this league all the players took
new names for their games. Ralph
Camerlengo was Rae Casuel of the New York
Brownies. f)avie Croan was Porky Knibbs of
the Oakland Oranges, and so on. The
Brownies won the championship in overtime.
The game lasted about three hours. For this
game, Ralph / Rae drove his 1946 Plymouth
onto the court, stood on the hood and put a
sparkling new white net on t&e rim. That's
what these guys thought of the court.
Finally, and it had to happen, the real big
guys came back. But the guys who had for­med
the CBA wouldn't get off the court. The
big guys would have to win it back.
Johnnie Leo, Paul Dana and Willie Elinger
figured they'd win in a breeze. They were
wrong. You can't go back.
The school gave way to the Library around
1960. The last group, the CBA, were now going
out with girls. Some were even married. That
can ruin your game. Any south-courter knows
that. The backboards came down and weeds
grew through the cracks on the court. The
way it should be.
Now, somebody has gone and put up a new
backboard, a back board without character;
white, no holes, fan shaped. Twenty years
later. Twenty years after the last great game.
Maybe it's time for a reunion. Even though
the skills are worn, somehow you feel those
big guys could put it together one more time.
But then, they would have to play on the
south court. Because that is where this back­board
was put up.
You can't go back.
The court as it appears today. The backboard was put up by these ^ e w big guys."