Dan O’Flaherty writes:
“The Wonder Bar from a different angle. Somewhere along this block was a candy store where we drank egg creams. Possibly it was called Ratner’s.”
Dee Kirk writes:
“I grew up one block from here on Stone Street in the 1940s, in a building that looked just like the ones here. My Italian mother worked on a sewing machine in a sweatshop. We lived in a long and narrow tenement. The innermost rooms had no natural light. But there were so many other children like me on the street. On Sundays, the Catholic nuns from St. Lucy’s would walk down the street ringing bells and calling all of us children to Sunday school. In the 1950s, all of Little Italy and my childhood home in Newark was demolished.”
John-Paul DeRosa writes:
“My great-aunt Eleanor Britton lived at 204 Avon Avenue in Newark, worked at 192 Market next to Four Corners, studied drawing and costume design at the Fawcett School evenings on Academy Street, and attended the Clinton Avenue Presbyterian Church.
“Her diary is all about her social life and it is chiefly concerned with fashion, boys, dance, etc. She mentions dozens of businesses and I have tracked down most of them, along with nearly half of the 180 people mentioned by name. Later, from 1931-1938 she again wrote diaries in Newark and mentions some 3,000 or more people in her social life during that time.”
Anne Mabry writes:
“The corner meat market was another fixture in our neighborhood. This one at the corner of University Avenue and Orange Street catered to those who had a penchant for freshly processed pork. As the city’s demographics changed from Polish and Italian to Black and Muslim, the kinds of businesses changed, too.
“The corner store used to be called Engelkorn’s. They sold hams, bacon, and pork. This corner store is now Unity Brand Halal. They now sell turkey, lamb, and chicken.”
Greg Calloway (pseudonym) writes:
“I started working as a public employee at the nearby building in 1970. This building on the corner was a flophouse and rooming house with shady characters sitting out front. I remember walking past, seeing empty liquor bottles in the windows, and then thinking to myself: ‘This is not a reputable neighborhood institution.’ Around the corner there used to be an even seedier dive bar named Shorty’s I believe.”
Haarith Alston-Taalib writes:
“Back in the 60s, at the time of the riots, my family lived at the corner of Wallace Street and 12th Ave. There’s a little triangular shaped park that’s still there today. We lived above John M. Riccio’s grocery store. The little park sat in the center of West Market, 12th Ave. and Wallace Street. When I visit Newark, I drive past there sometimes; it brings back Wallace Street memories. Thanks for providing these photos of Newark. It warms the heart to see those old streets, stores, buildings, parks, uses, trucks, cars, etc.
“I lived at the intersection of Wallace Street and 12th Ave. There was a hospital across the street from where I lived and a triangular shaped park across the street from me (the park is still there today). I lived in the block between 12th and 13th avenues; 32 Wallace street was right at the corner. I still have a photo of me as a kid standing at this street corner posing for a photo on Easter. The fire hydrant is still there at the corner today; there’s a new building there now where my house was. I lived at 32 Wallace street.”
Riccio’s bodega advertised the following products and prices in April 1967:
– Spaghetti sauce for 19¢
– Liquid starch for 35¢
– Maine sardines for $2.25
– Fancy peaches for 29¢
– Pineapple juice for 25¢
– Dog food for $3.25
– Print lard for $2.35
– Canned sodas for $1.99
A kid returns home after shopping at Riccio’s in April 1967:
The identical street scene and view in December 2024:
All that survives today from history is this fire hydrant and the broken carcass of a rental scooter:
Haarith Alston-Taalib standing in front of Riccio’s on or around 1967.
The same fire hydrant is in background:
James Hollaway writes:
“In this part of the city, there was all the meat markets. On Essex Street at the right, there were horse stables when I was a kid. On Orange Street, there was every single business you needed in life. From birth to death, you could live your whole life on this street. One by one, Newark power players and developers demolished these small buildings. One here and another one there, until now there is not one left. When I walk along this part of Orange Street, sometimes I still feel like I can catch a whiff of Philip Armour brand meat.”
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