Chasing the Ice Truck And The Great Serial Rip-Off!

By Mark Soifer

In a quieter time, before World War II, we would chase the ice truck down Kerlin Street on steamy August afternoons. When the truck stopped for a delivery, the driver would let us grab the small pieces of ice that littered the soaked floor boards of his well- worn vehicle.

That ice belonged to us. There was never a question about it. It was the Diamond Ice and Coal Company’s contribution to the youth of the neighborhood. We would suck the cold chunks as they melted in our hands. It a good way to cool off and it was fun.

There was even a competitive aspect. The kid who grabbed the largest chunk of ice was considered the winner of a make believe contest. We all understood that without speaking a word.

There was nothing to win but the admiration of your buddies. Which was a good feeling and that was enough. So we all tried to grab the biggest piece from in back of that damp, Diamond Ice and Coal Company truck.

The country was gradually emerging form the Great Depression and drifting towards a terrible World War. What did we know from war? We knew the neighborhood and that was it. We knew that when there was a thunder storm, the water gushed along the gutters on Third Street so that we could race popsicle sticks along the miniature rapids. We knew the cindered car barn at 4th and Penn was the place to play baseball, basketball and football.

There was no TV. There was no air conditioning. And we didn’t miss it because we didn’t know any better. We sat outside on the steps on summer evenings and watched the the people and cars go by. Enjoyed the night sky. The moon, the stars, the mournful horns from the harbor patrol boats on the Delaware River three blocks away.

There were no supermarkets but there were plenty of small grocery stores. There was an ACME and A&P on our street. These stores were about half the size of Sun Rose Words and Music on Asbury Ave. All the stuff was piled on shelves in back of the counter. The storekeeper would use a long stick with clippers on the end to bring down boxes of Wheaties and Rinso from great heights. He would catch them with one hand as they tumbled toward the dusty hardwood floor.

Then he would add up your order on the back of a paper bag, maybe twenty items in about 20 seconds. No calculator. No fancy cash register. It was all done is his head, an amazing mathematical feat.

The movies were a popular pastime in those dreamy, innocent days. Every Saturday a group of us would walk to the Apollo Theater to enjoy the matinee. The show included three cowboy films, several cartoons and a serial. The serial was designed to keep us coming back week after week although we hardly needed an incentive. There was nothing more interesting to do for a dime.

I recall one serial where the hero was trapped in a cage with sharp knives closing in on him. The knives were about six inches from his vital organs. All week the buzz at school was about how this guy was going to escape. It seemed impossible. The knives were just too close!

After sitting through three cowboy movies, four cartoons and a Time Marches on News Reel, the big moment arrived. The final chapter of the serial was shown.
WHAT! WHAT! WHAT! The knives were suddenly six feet away, not six inches away from our hero! He easily escaped.

There was a simultaneous realization that we had been had! The theater erupted with boos of disbelief and the most disgusting sounds we could summon at a moment’s notice. As we filed out of the movie we muttered to each other. There was no one else to protest to. The ushers had fled and the theater owner, who also operated a real estate office, was never around.

Oh well, the three movies and four cartoons had been pretty good… and we did get a free comic book with the cover torn off.

All this happened over 60 years ago. I can’t remember what happened yesterday any more but the great serial-rip-off has been engrained in my memory forever.

[Mark Soifer is public relations director for Ocean City, N.J. He served in the Army, played varsity baseball for Temple University, and is recognized as one of the best special events planners for recreation areas.]