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How to Win Friends & Influenza

by Edward Kurtz

196 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0648; ISBN 1-55369-836-3; US$19.50, C$23.95, EUR15.60, £10.80

Author Ed Kurtz recalls New Jersey life in a simpler time and solves some modern problems such as road rage, in a unique and playful voice.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book For years, Ed Kurtz jotted down his memories of growing up in New Jersey during the 1920s and 1930s. Combining them with some essays on modern problems such as road rage, information on the origins of popular sports, and several (often spicy) jokes and stories, Ed enlisted his sister Mitzie, now 93, as a typist, and created the manucript he titled "How to Win Friends & Influenza." This book traces a New Jersey childhood through the eras of America's Prohibition and Great Depression, and an adulthood that included overseas service during World War II, leading troops of Boy Scouts through the snake-infested woods, and building a house the Pope slept in. In a voice all his own, twinkling with humor and wordplay, Ed Kurtz relates a life well lived.

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About the Author Eighty-seven-year-old Edward Kurtz is a lifelong resident of New Jersey. At 18, he went to work for the Forstmann Wollen Co. in Garfield as an oiler boy, and rose to quality control supervisor. When the mill closed, he formed a house painting business. During the Second World War he enlisted in the Army Signal Corps, spending one year at Camp Crowder, Mo., and subsequently serving overseas in five countries as an instructor in radio communication. He currently holds an amateur extra class radio license. Ed has served the Boy Scouts of America as a scoutmaster since 1940. He earned the Silver Beaver award and is still in scouting. Ed, recently retired, lives in Clifton with his 93-year-old sister, Mitzie.

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An Excerpt

School Daze

I went to school in 1920, at the age of five. It was #5 school on Outwater Lane in Garfield, N.J. Although we had a sufficient amount of discipline at home, we objected to the type of discipline at school.

My first day at school was hazardous to my health. The teacher sat me down at a table with the other kids, who were playing with blocks and dolls. She assumed I would enjoy this part of the training, to which I strenuously objected. This was not my soda or whatever she was serving. The next ordeal was that she had the boys on one side and girls on the other side facing each other. While at this silly stance, we had to sing "How do you do my partner, how do you do today? We will dance in a circle. I will show you the way." No way. I had no use for girls to begin with. At home we ignored them, kids who associated with girls were sissies. She gave up and noted that I was incorrigible. In those days the teachers had full power, like the queens of old. Thank goodness none of us were ever beheaded.

As I grew older, my troubles escalated. We kids, naturally, enjoyed chewing all sorts of things. However, gum chewing was my downfall. Oh yes, we were adept at chewing bubble gum. All teachers had sight like a hawk in full swing after its prey. This one observed me chewing a mile a minute. Lines of Contact was made. Ah-ha! She called me to the desk and with a talented sneer advised me of my rights and if I could not afford a lawyer I could have the principal. The further instructions were, "Now remove that substance from your foul mouth, place it on your nose, and leave it there until the cows come home."

I got one of my science books and found just what I was looking for: an eye for an eye. With great enthusiasm, I went to the candy store next to the school and purchased a material that you could chew. It had a sweet substance, and was great because, although it appeared like gum, it would not stick on my nose under these trying conditions.

The next day, I again sat in my chair, with complete confidence. Then, uh-oh - the teacher spotted me from her control tower, and she beckoned me to approach the landing field. "Well, my good man, what has thou of interest for me today?" That was pretty stupid; she knew darn well I was chewing gum. She started her well-trained procedures on command: place the gum on your nose,stand in front of the class, and present yourself as a stupid imbecile. With a sly grin, I knew she did not realize that she was accosting one of the young intellectuals, the "Master." Then, with a hideous grin, she said, "Place the gum on your nose." The moment of truth. "Dear Teacher, 'tis not gum that I was chewing, it is a wax composition that will not adhere to anything." "Ah so," she said. "Let's make a scientific experiment. Take the darn thing, put a curve in it, and place it over your nose, and hold your head up so that it will not fall off." Dearly beloved, my chewing days were over "toot-sweet."

Some of you old timers will get a kick out of remembering the young entrepreneurs who at the age of twelve were always seeking their fortune. There was an advertisement about selling a salve called "Rose-Bud Salve." This was used for cuts and bruises. The cost per container was 25 cents, and it had the appearance of a shoe-shine can. If you sold a certain amount, you would receive a gift. I sold enough to earn a telescope, two and a half feet long. After checking on the neighborhood's "aura," I knew that I was no dope cause I had the scope. This was to me a great treasure, and I would take it wherever I would go. Who knows, I might be called on to explain the celestial and heavenly bodies.

One day will live in infamy. I went to school with my telescope, climbed up on the windowsill, and scanned the heavenly orbits of the vast universe. All of a sudden, a fiendish hand reached out behind my neck and yanked me off the pedestal. It was none other than another teacher with physical prowess. A lecture, beyond human comprehension. She wrestled my telescope from my hands and said I would get it back at the end of the school term. I returned to my seat with an aura of disobedience. She will rue the day, I thought. She did not realize that my studies could culminate in a great study of the universe called "Celestia Phenomena." She had yet to discover that a kid of twelve could be so determined and dominant in his beliefs.

I worked very hard to earn the telescope, and I was going to prove that nothing could obliterate my intense attitude of science. Now the tide turneth. During that school term, I did not pay attention to any lecture or class participation. The proof of the pudding was that I was the only one in the entire school to receive a "minus zero" in my grades. The teacher was fortunate she did not report her findings to my father. He would have told her off, #@**% and four tenths. Suffer not ye little brats.

Regarding school days, it was a dangerous time for all of us kids. We gathered around the school grounds, where the "ring leaders" were active, and the lower echelon were following the roles of their leaders. Remember the spinning top? This unit consisted of winding a string around the top and pulling it, then letting go and the top would spin on the ground. Along came our fearless leaders (the creeps) and asked if we had a hole drilled into the top. If not, they would take away our tops. Sounds like the government. A day at a time.

Another gag was to have our leaders place a stick on our shoulders and stand back. This was to create a fight. With that, they would then say, "Three-six-nine, the fight is mine, I'll fight you any old time." This unholy tradition was terminated when my cousin, a large, strapping fellow who was in the Golden Gloves, intervened. Power is strength.

One day I was sitting in my classroom chair while a full-blown test was going on. Inadvertently, my eyes roamed around, across the aisle, to catch a few correct answers. Hearing footsteps behind me, I straightened up. I finally realized that this loving teacher was sneaking up on me. The teacher put a hand on each side of my head and slammed both hands together. This created an astounding clap of thunder. It was fortunate that the hands were not on my ears. I thought the Walls of Jericho had come tumbling down. This gesture could have created a hearing loss.

There are more stories from the torture chamber. If we, for some reason, went astray, we would have to hold out our hands, palms up, and the teacher would give us a few whacks with a ruler. Luckily, it was not a foot. If for some reason you went to the principal, he would ask you to bend over, and he applied a few paddles. And you would have to bend over, even if your name wasn't Ben Dover.

For the non-intellectuals, there was a pointed hat called the "dunce cap." This was presented to you and you sat in the fifth row, last seat. Another old trick was dipping the girls' hair in the ink well. For shame. If the school informed our parents of our misconduct, we would also be punished. Try these adventures for our misguided brats of today. It did not take too long to see "Edison" (that is, the light).

A good procedure was to require every student to read aloud in front of the class some items presented by the teacher. For example, mine was "Fish Builds Brains." Well,I confronted the teacher, telling her and the class that I read an article in the paper that contested that statement, saying it was "not conclusive." She said, "Sit down." In another "sit down session" I read that the pirates were on an island. I told the teacher that the spelling was wrong, the "s" should be removed. Again the cry, "Sit down!" Another note to read was "Wind is air in motion," however there was no "Sit down!" I thought-it is better to air, but do it alone.

Back in 1920, mom used to say, "Bank the fire, turn down the kerosene lamp, fluff up the feather bed, and scoot off to bed." Adventure in the days of your, mine, or his.

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Catalogue Information

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