The Pioneer Country Club – Phase I

Its formal name was the Pioneer Country Club, but it was known by and referred to by everyone as The Pioneer. It was in Greenfield Park, NY (a small post office and general store) although those who came by bus and train (yes – train) were delivered to Mountaindale, a larger town with a few other stores. It was a classic 50's and 60's Catskills Resort with swimming pools, a par-3 golf course, tennis courts, and an array of entertainment which included movies, Broadway shows and even Broadway plays in a huge auditorium known as the Playtorium. To cater to their unique modern Orthodox Jewish clientele, it was a Kosher hotel with a large synagogue.

From the time I was a month old and for the first two decades of my life, The Pioneer was the center of my universe from late June until September. My earliest memories are of a bungalow that was shared by my family and my uncle Sam, my aunt Minnie and my cousins Lumie and Esther. Lumie got the name because his Yiddish nickname - Avrumie (Abraham) was difficult for him to say and when asked his name it came out that way. The bungalow was a bit down the road from the hotel, but bungalow renters were given access to all of the facilities except food. Frankly the bungalow was a bit more spacious than my apartment above our store in Williamsburg, had a screened-in porch where we often ate our meals, and a hammock that my dad attached to a convenient bend in the outer walls.

As a kid growing up in the urban streets of Brooklyn, I always felt that the Pioneer was as close to heaven as I was going to get. Grass, trees, baseball fields, birds, swimming pools, a lake with rowboats and fishing, and a golf course. Each May I created a page-by-page countdown calendar that I hung on my wall and could not wait to tear of the day as I got closer to "C" day - our day to go the "country.”

My Dad loved "the country" too and it was he who gave me my love of nature. As a young boy, I looked forward to the days that I knew he would be around. While he was not an athlete (although he did tell me he was a track star and soccer player in Poland) and did not participate in classic American sports like baseball, basketball and even swimming, I looked forward to the time I spent with him doing quiet and more sedate things - fishing, hiking and berry-picking. Years later, when I participated in more active sports like golf, tennis, basketball and softball, he continued his quiet activities like fishing and berry picking. Years later, my sister Ruth tried to convince me that he really did not like these activities, it just gave him an opportunity to get away from my mom for a few hours.

Before we owned a car, we were driven to the Catskills by individuals who had station wagons, and the roof was always piled high with our stuff including our cat who enjoyed bringing captured mice to me after hunting in the woods. My dad would come up every Thursday evening so that he could have a long weekend with us and make sure that he was not traveling on Shabbat. He would leave on Sunday night or Monday morning. In most cases, he would come by bus and take a taxi from Mountaindale. As the years went by and as people began purchasing cars, he was usually able to get a lift to and from Brooklyn. When we got our own car, his schedule became more flexible and depending on the weather (as a roofer he could not work in the rain or when it was going to be extremely hot), he would often stay for longer periods of time. Later in life, after we were married, we would drive my dad up on Thursdays or Fridays and back on Sunday night or Monday mornings.

For two months, the bungalow colony of six free standing buildings with multiple apartments and apartments within a large building known as The Victoria House, became my community and my world. Each bungalow had a young family in it and the kids, who were relatively similar in age to me, created our own camp and activities, but without the formal scheduling of a day camp. We hiked through the woods, went rowing on the lake, played golf, softball, and basketball and swam in the large pool. There was also a large canteen where we purchased candy and ice cream, listened to the juke box, and most importantly - learned how to play pinball machines and pool. Also included in our group were the Schechter kids, the family of one of the hotel owners. They spent their summers in bungalows on the hotel grounds but were fortunate to eat their meals in the hotel dining room.

While the bungalow did get crowded when my parents, aunt, uncle and two cousins were there, the family experience was fun. My uncle Sam, who was a waiter at a dairy restaurant in NYC, loved cantorial music and was often playing his records and singing along at the top of his lungs. He never did much else that I can remember and did not participate in any athletic activities. There was one memorable occasion, however, when I did see him with a tennis racket. A bat had somehow gotten into the bungalow and up into the attic and my brave uncle Sam decided to try to kill it with my tennis racket. He somehow got up into the attic where the bat had hidden, and he began to chase it around. Since he lived in an apartment and never had been in an attic, he was unaware that the spacing between the beams was not solid. After chasing the bat for a few minutes, he came crashing through the ceiling and into the sink where my mother was washing dishes. The laughter went on for hours.

The Playtorium was a huge auditorium and was the center of evening activities at the Pioneer. It was in the Playtorium that I was exposed to live shows featuring comedians, singers and even Broadway Plays – although the only one I can recall is The Ann Frank Story. And, after each show, a band played dance music for an hour. When the band was done, a jukebox offered continuing music on the dance floor adjacent to the bar. The entertainment schedule was the same week after week. With movies on Monday, miscellaneous activities on Tuesday and Wednesday, a “Broadway Play” on Thursdays and Ed Sullivan-like shows on Saturday and Sunday.

On big weekends, the main show was followed by a midnight supper and a second show, often starring major Borscht-Belt comedians like Henny Youngman and Jackie Mason who were stopping by after their main show performances at places like Grossinger’s and the Concord. I recall watching a delayed pre-season football game in the TV room with a group including Henny Youngman one Saturday night before the second show. He was as funny off-stage as he was on. Hotel guests were known to prepare for the Saturday night shows by reserving rows of seats with their jackets on Saturday afternoon. To this day, any time I see a seat being reserved by a jacket the image of the Playtorium returns.

It was on the stage of the Playtorium that I made my singing debut at an amateur night at the age of six, singing a song taught to me by my uncle who worked at the hotel as a waiter:

“My name is Yussie (Yiddish nickname for Joseph) Welfeld and I'm here to say, the Pioneer Hotel is the best place to stay, it’s in the Catskills Mountains in a grand location, just the place to spend your summer vacation.” There was another verse related to the busboys and the waiters but every time I try to remember it, I end up with - "the lake has alligators" from the Allen Sherman “Hello Mudah, Hello Fadah" masterpiece.

That masterpiece was followed by another dandy: “I had a little candy store business was so bad, I asked my wife what to do and this is what she said, take a can of gasoline, spill it on the floor, take a match, make a scratch and no more candy store.” As I grew older and wiser, I never got on that stage as a performer again. The Playtorium, however, did become an important component of my life in later years when I worked as a lifeguard at the hotel. More about this later.

When my aunt and uncle no longer came for the summer, my parents moved from the rather spacious bungalow to a large efficiency apartment in the Victoria House - a rather old Victorian rooming house with a wrap-around porch. The building also had three stories of rooms that housed busboys, waiters and members of the four-piece band that performed at all of the shows. The busboys and waiters were predominately college students who were earning summer money to pay for their college, law and medical school tuitions. My Mom became the den mother for the building - taking care of anyone who got sick, and helping them with washing, ironing and sewing, as their mom while away from home.

On Friday nights my parents frequently invited many of the regular guests of the hotel, the local bungalows and the busboys and waiters to an after-dinner snack which consisted of beer and “arbes” (salted and peppered boiled chickpeas).  It was hard to believe that less than 30 minutes after a five-course dinner, people still had room for additional food. For many years after my father passed away, my mom continued her summer stays in the Victoria House, and after I married, we continued to visit.

The Victoria House and our apartment also became the site of one of the funniest incidents of my life. We were already married and came up for the weekend to visit my parents. Our “bungalow” apartment at that time in the Victoria House consisted of a kitchen and a large bedroom with three queen-sized beds. That same weekend, my sister and brother-in-law came for the weekend, and strangely enough, we were all sharing the bedroom with my parents. It was Saturday night after the show in the Playtorium, and the three couples were in their respective beds with the lights off. As we began to doze off, the voice of my father emerged from the silence - "not tonight, I have a headache." The timing was perfect, and the laughter continued for the next hour.

The Pioneer was not just a summer vacation spot for me. It created moments in my life that were unforgettable. At the Pioneer, I caught my first fish; I learned to swim and dive; I watched my first play; I learned how to dance the cha-cha; I saw my first concert; I kissed my first girl; I met my wife; and it was there, that my daughter took her first steps.