In my youth, a lot of Cleveland’s neighborhoods were commonly ethnic enclaves. Murray Hill and Collinwood were mostly Italian, East 105th Street and Coventry Road was mostly Jewish, Broadway-Slavic Village was mostly Polish, Asians lived in Chinatown, and Superior-St. Clair was home to Slovak and Slovenians, and Black people lived south of Euclid.

Two people who were of different ethnic persuasions did not fit into those categories in Goodrich-Kirland Park.

Those two people would be Bob McGee and me. He was Black and I am Irish. We were “Sassenachs.

Sassenanchs, in the Irish language of Gaelic, means outlanders. We were accepted by our Slovak contemporaries because I did my best to keep them laughing and McGree could probably beat the tar out of all of them. The Slovaks and Slovenians got along well with each other, but never call a Slovak a Slovenian or vice versa, and never call Bob Mc Gee anything but “Mister Mc Gee” or “Sir.”

The corner of East 55th Street and Superior Avenue was the next step for hanging out as we grew a little older.

There was no rule or precise age to graduate to the corner. Around age 16 seemed to be acceptable. There was a hierarchy though.

The first non-spoken, generally accepted hangout area for newcomers was at the end of the block on East 53rd and Superior. It was, more or less, a kindergarten for you newcomers. It was wise to not edge up the block into an area populated by older hanger-outers. To hang out in that area was considered to be rising above your rank and was improper behavior.

Protocol was protocol! As you grew up a bit, you could hang out in front of Han’s bar. The spot in front of Marion Drug was occupied by more veteran teenagers. The actual corner of 55th and Superior was reserved for over 21s and married men. Never go there!

Bob Mc Gee never considered going to the corner. He knew that the older men would not accept that. It was a fact of life in the 1950s. What did we do on the corner? Well, we would smoke, spit, swear profusely, look tough, and act stupid. What could be more fun?

Rainey Institute, 1523 East 55th Street, ca. 1959Rainey Institute was also on 55th and Superior. It was founded in 1904 as a settlement house. In that time frame, immigration to America was at a peak. Rainey was founded to acclimate new immigrants to life in America. When immigration slowed, Rainey was used as a haven for wayward young people (which was us later) to have a place for recreation. When it was too cold to play basketball at the playground we played at Rainey.

Playing basketball at Rainey could be interesting and challenging. The basketball court was on the second floor and had some eccentricities. We knew them well. If we were playing other players who had not played at Rainey, we had a definite advantage. They did not know the oddities.

The roof was very low, so we learned to shoot the ball with a lower trajectory than usual. The new players would shoot too high, and the ball would bounce off the ceiling and they would lose possession. The court was very short. To make up for this, the backboards were placed flat on the wall, which left no room behind the baskets and gave us the ability to stop quickly and put up a shot while they were crashing into the wall. There were also dead spots on the wood floor.

We knew where they were, but they didn’t.

Sometimes a new player’s dribble would hit the floor and just lay there. One side of the court had climbing ropes that hung from the ceiling with a big knot on the bottom. Young kids would sit on the knot and watch us play.

One time, I was on a fast break heading to our basket and was looking back for the pass. The kid on the rope lost his footing on the floor—making the rope swing onto the court—and I collided with the kid and the rope. It knocked the wind out of me.

I was trying to say, “Son of bitch!” but all I could get out was a very sibilant “Ssss, Ssss.” Basketball could be an adventure at Rainey.