After my mother and father married, they lived in Price Hill, which is where my story starts. We had a three-story house there. We rented out the lower level to help pay the mortgage; my brother, my cousin Paul, my parents, and I lived on the second level, and my Aunt Louise, who was married to Leo Pritz, lived on the third floor.
I was a troublemaker. I tagged along with my brother. Once, when he sent me home, I was hit by a car in the dry cleaners’, which was next door. I wasn’t seriously injured.
Also, probably a different year, I managed to land myself in a tar barrel and came out covered with tar, and my mother must have spent a long time trying to get it off me.
When I was about 3 or 4, my dad took me to a ball game. We had to take a streetcar to get to it. At the game, we got separated. I found someone and told them I was lost. They asked me where I lived, and I told them. They put me on a streetcar and told the conductor. The conductor dropped me off, I guess it was on 8th Ave. He walked me across the street to the house. Meanwhile my father was searching all over the stadium for me. Finally, he came home and told my mother that he had lost me. So that was always considered as the time when I got lost.
I should point out that when I was young, I did not speak until I was well past 2. I would point and make sounds about what I wanted. It must have driven my mom crazy. The story is that we went to this camp, which is where my parents would vacation, because it was inexpensive. My parents had a group of friends who went there. There was another couple who had a son who was my age, and everybody made a big fuss about how well he spoke. After that I began speaking in full sentences!
We left Price Hill when I was about five, because I started kindergarten at Avondale School. My uncle Morris stayed in Price Hill after the rest of us left. Morris and his family were probably living on Central Avenue at the time when my grandfather was alive.
The Felson Family 