They say “kids will be kids”.  Mine certainly were and when I look back so was I.

Living at 222 amidst its 108 apartments afforded us many opportunities to do mischief.  Some of us looked out on Broadway and some of us looked out on West 83rd Street.  There were, I believe, 8 boys all within about 18 months of each other.  So there was great potential for the seizing of opportunities to make mischief.

Hitler’s house was a favorite of mine.  And with two parents who smoked, there were plenty of matches around to play with.  Imagine a matchbook standing up like an A frame house. It had to be a full book of course; and then the delight as a match was struck and placed under the A and the anticipation as we waited for the whole book to go up as we would want his house to have burned. {Don’t try this at home)


Of course, this was performed in the bathtub; not very dangerous because of the siting but a heck of a lot of fun.

The bathroom in my apartment faced West 83rd Street and therefore provided a chance to try to make mayhem below with toilet paper bombs.  These were wads of toilet paper soaked with plain water in the sink and then tossed out the 9th story window.  As I recall we were trying to land them in front of people not hit them (we were good boys).

One mischief maker who did not live in our building was heralded for some time after he dropped an M80 firecracker in the toilet at his house to see if it would go out; it didn’t and the reported mess was the thing that legends are made of.

And of course there was the time in 222 when I didn’t do it but was accused. (In fact I still am accused of the dastardly deed.)  Someone carved the initials MK on the metal intercom box in the elevator.  Those are mine backwards and belong to another former resident in that order.  

Most of the stuff we did at 222 was relatively harmless.  Ringing doorbells and heading for the stairs was a big one.  Calling for the elevator (in the days of a human operator) and heading for the stairs was another one.

We could be very annoying. 


Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

4 thoughts on “Mischief

  1. My brother and I did worse on west 81St street! Model airplanes set on fire, slingshots firing clay balls hardened in the oven, and garbage bags filled with water landing on our building’s super. We wanted to write a story called “Out The Window”!


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