During what came to be called the Great Depression

families struggled to make ends meet. In 1933 at the depth of the Depression, sixteen million people—one-third of the labor force—were unemployed.

In January 1934, while sixteen years old, I was a sophomore, a liberal arts major, at Alexander Hamilton High School on Albany Avenue and the corner of Bergin Street. My mother worked in Commercial Credit at National City Bank, 55 Wall Street, Manhattan.

I walked both going to school as well as returning regardless of the weather; ten cents would have been the round-trip fare in the Bergin Street trolley car. I’d rather have spent the nickels for licorice drops.