The Good Old Days in Darien / Ed Chrostowski

Taken by themselves, isolated events and names encountered on life's journey are all but forgotten, but when retrieved from the misty corners of our minds, they form a nostalgic narrative about "the way we were" 60 years ago.

There was the time, for example, that Capt. Video, an action hero in a television series during the '50s, came down to earth in a helicopter on the field at Darien High School (now the Town Hall) on Renshaw Road. A helicopter landing and a close-up view of a TV hero was a double treat for scores of youngsters who gathered there that day and it unleashes a flood of happy childhood memories as it is recalled now.

There was other excitement on that field in those days. Softball, not the blooper ball kind played today but an intense fast-pitch brand, attracted scores of fans every evening for games in the Darien men's league. Seven-inning games completed in about an hour with one-run verdicts were the norm. Pitchers like Kenny Lord, Joe Biggs and Johnny Roth were dominant, racking up strike-outs and shutting down opponents, sometimes with no hits at all. But there also were some sluggers like first baseman Jack Herman.

Meanwhile, "Topper," Hopalong Cassidy's horse, was appearing "in person" at the old Farmer's Market across the street. With Cassidy in the saddle, dressed in black, the white horse made a dramatic appearance in the hit cowboy movies and TV serials of the day. Of course, other white horses, all named "Topper," were making promotional appearances all across the country at the same time, but Darien wouldn't have settled for anything less than the real one.

In those days, Darien was home to many Madison Avenue advertising executives and one of them, Jack DeGarmo, decided he needed a Little League film clip for a series he was creating for a client. That's when he called on Joe Vitti, who was always on hand for anything to do with sports, to line McGuane Field and then to do the voice-over for the umpire's role. Joe quipped later that it was one of the few times he found an umpire perfectly agreeable.

On the baseball front also, we were always grateful for friendship with the town's building inspector, Mike DeLeonardis. He was the brother-in-law of the famed Brooklyn Dodger pitcher, Ralph Branca, and was a good source for tickets to the old-timers' games at Yankee Stadium.

DeLeonardis also was a pretty good sharpshooter at the Woodway Gun Club's skeet-shooting range. One crisp November day, he invited me to shoot some clay pigeons with him there and I was excited to see the shotgun next to mine was being fired by John Cameron Swayze, the TV newsman who became famous as the spokesman for Timex commercials. Well, Swayze's birds took a lickin,' but mine kept on tickin'.

Memories of that era may not be as happy for businessmen and residents of Noroton Heights. Their neighborhood, village green and all, was destroyed by construction of the Connecticut Turnpike (now known as I-95 or the John Davis Lodge Thruway). About 80 families and businesses were relocated and "pass at your own risk" warning signs were a disconcerting presence for a couple of years as heavy equipment rumbled through the area. Folks there referred to themselves as "thruway DPs," like refugees displaced by war.

The Sugar Bowl and the Sweet Shop at the Darien Theatre weren't quite enough to fill the social bill for older teenagers with a wanderlust. They routinely headed for night spots in Port Chester, N.Y., where the "legal drinking age" was lower and bars stayed open long after Connecticut's last call.

The OPG (Old Post Grill) was a popular attraction, not only because it was the first one across the state line, but had a lively taproom, bowling alleys and a spacious disco-type ballroom. The place came to a tragic end in the '60s when fire broke out and 39 college-age people (none from Darien; one from New Canaan) died in a panicky stampede for the exit.

Other popular "watering holes" for young night-clubbers included Vahsen's and the Whiteway in Port Chester, the North Castle Lodge near Armonk, the Three Pines, Wagon Wheel and the Anvil in Vista, the Hayloft in South Salem and the dimly-lit, smokey cellar of the Rye Hotel where a jazz combo held forth nightly. A bit more elegant for couples dating seriously, the Glen Island Casino in New Rochelle was popular and, of course, the Playland amusement park in Rye always was a big draw.

But there was really no need to make those trips. There was fun to be had right here at Old MacDonald's Farm, spanning the Darien-Norwalk border on the Post Road.

Through the years, scores of Darien teens worked and/or socialized there, meeting at the coffee and doughnut shop or having a burger and soda at the quaint restaurant where the floor was covered with sawdust and the booths were made to look like horse stalls. Indeed, the whole complex -- restaurant with a cocktail bar, general store, bakery, a small amusement park and a petting zoo -- attracted visitors from throughout the area. Schools in Westchester County made it a destination for field trips and large groups arrived by bus. Alas, the place closed in the mid-70s after running for about 20 years.

The farm was primarily a family place and even featured a carousel built in 1896 and hay rides in horse-drawn wagons. Teen employees ran the merry-go-round while excited children sat astride hand-carved, hand-painted wooden horses and an old record-player provided calliope music.

Former Darien residents recently recalled that when they worked there as teens, their duties included cranking the siren on the old fire truck and tooting the horn on the little train transporting children around the grounds.

Of course, they also had some less pleasant chores like slopping the pigs, feeding the llamas and hosing down the elephant.

The latter is a story in itself, triggering a whole slew of memories. The elephant's name was "Shakuntala" and it had arrived in Darien as a baby, a gift from the children of Mercara, India, to the children of Darien after the two towns had formed a kind of "sister town" and pen-pal relationship.

When Shakuntala outgrew her quarters in Darien, she was shipped off to the Beardsley Zoo in Bridgeport. But that was a long time ago and now it's just one of the little things that, strong together, account for big memories.

Perry Como might well have had a similar view when he crooned "memories are made of things like this," one of his hit songs in the '50s.

Ed Chrostowski was editor of the Darien Review in the '50s. He can be reached at skicrow@att.net.