<<< back to student roster
SYLVEA STEINBERG
My Stories:
I was born Sarah Ella Brody on March 27, 1921 in Brooklyn, New York. In 1931 my mother, my 5-year-old brother, Seymour and I left New York for Los Angeles. My father had gone there first. I was married right after World War II ended. My husbandıs name was Sam Steinberg. We had three children: Marsha, Alice and Marc. My daughter, Marsha has lived in Florence, Italy for the last 30 years.
Carl is married to Ruth and they have two daughters, Gabrielle-9 and Talya-5. They live in Santa Barbara. Marc, my younger son lives with me out of necessity, not desire. I have been a single woman for 30 years. My brother was killed in an automobile accident in 1937. My mother, Jennie died in 1975 and Papa came to live with me when he was 88 years old. He lived to be 100.
<<< back to top
I remember inkwells on the desks in grammar school in the 1930s. It felt good when I took the pen point and dipped it into the inkwell and held the pen over the well so that the dripping would stop. It felt different to write that way, than it does today using the dry pens. Sometimes I imagine they still exist...the inkwells and ink to fill them and pens to write with.
Then there was wonderment in dreaming. Now one needs to write faster, the age is fragile, the thoughts have to be put down faster, the dreams happen but are forced now. So, instead I turned to reading, it was all ready-made.
In February, 1932 I was in the 7th grade at Hollonbeck Jr. High school on 6th St. and Soto St. My homeroom teacher told us that our subjects had been chosen for us except for one elective. I chose Spanish, but when I got to the class it was filled, so I ended up taking Typewriting because there wasn't any other class open. It was definitely not my choice!
But something happened to me throughout the intervening years. I could type very fast, 80 words a minute with 80 errors. When I was 13 years old and in Theodore Roosevelt High-School on 4th and Matthews, Papa bought me a typewriter.
He paid all of 5 dollars for it and he was so proud about it. It was the ugliest thing I ever saw. I was used to very modern typewriters and this must have been built about 1905. Papa knew how to change the ribbon, something I never cared to learn how to do.
He also bought me a table to put the typewriter on. I kept the table and took it with me into my marriage, divorce and finally gave it away when I moved into my first apartment in 1975, and my sons refused to let me take it. Oh yes, the typewriter, Papa just gave it away, what year, I don't know.
Many, many years later (perhaps 50 years) I was on Hollywood Blvd., having stopped off on my way home from work to go to the Goldwyn Hollywood Library and was waiting for a bus. I looked into the window of a store and there was my old typewriter, well it looked like my old typewriter. I went into the store and asked how much it was worth; the woman said it was not for sale. They were collectors of old Americana.
<<< back to top
Listening to the radio tonight, I heard Ira Fistell say he had never seen a "No Hitter Game" in all of the hundreds of games he had seen. Well, the first time I went to Dodger Stadium to see the Dodgers play the Mets was in 1962.
My brother, Sam had given my husband, Sam and myself his box seats. My husband, Sam was an avid baseball fan, football fan, fight fan, etc. What interested me, was that the private seats were just over the Dodger dugout. Nothing was happening, no hits, no runs.
I thought the game was boring so I went to the hot dog stand not once, but twice and each time I bought a beer. They were large beers or maybe I asked for a large beer (which is not my favorite drink).
My husband was so engrossed in the game, so I looked around noticed people like Fred Astaire had a box along side ours. I enjoyed looking at him...and the game went on. Sandy Kofax was the Dodgers pitcher and mentally I was making a Shedack (an arranged marriage) between he and my daughter, Marsha, my princess, who was all of 16 years old...and Sandy was 26...so naturally I couldn't allow that to happen at this time...he was to old for her and she was too young to think about such things anyway.
Oh, by the way Sandy had gone to Fairfax High School, where my Marsha was attending now. So on the way home I asked Sam what was so wonderful about the game tonight. The announcer on the radio was gloating. Sam explained to me that a no hitter game was terrific. Sandy and the team would be in the "Hall of Fame" for this.
<<< back to top