I am the freaking Bottle Boy. That's right. Each day, after school, I walked from my home on Sheridan street in Old Bethpage, up Haypath Road to the German deli by the BethView Theatre. We called it the A&P shopping center then. It might have been a mile. Kids today wouldn't dream of walking that far, much less going to work in a Deli, for God's sake. Yep, the Bottle Boy. A lot of people don't know that long before it become a law in many states, you could get money back for the markets and delis for returning bottles. You didn't even have to pay a deposit, the big soda companies were glad to get the glass bottles back for refilling. 2 cents for a small bottle and 5 cents for the big, curved glass Pepsi and Coke bottles. One of my Uncles used to drink a lot of Pepsi and would accumulate quite a few quart bottles (yes, I said Quart, not 2 liter or any other metric crap)..and if I could haul 20 of them, I had a dollar. Beautiful. Anyway, back to the story. I needed money..and part time jobs were not that easy to come by. My older brother John worked in the Deli as a clerk and told me that the owner got aggravated every day when he walked in and saw the hundreds of glass bottles that his customers had dropped off. They needed a bottle boy to sort them out and stack them for the soda delivery drivers to pick up. Sixty-five cents an hour, off the books. Good deal. Or so I thought.
There were actually two owners of the Deli..Herman, the young hotshot and silent partner..(though he wasn't so silent when I was around) and old John, the kindly German gentleman who was there all the time. Old John took me aside and said he would give me a Dollar an hour, just not to let Herman know. Okay...better deal.
I usually went into the deli as a customer or with my Dad a couple of times a week to get some cold cuts or give my Brother a chance to give me the finger when Dad wasn't looking. Anyhow, I never noticed the mountain of bottles before...not before it was my job to make them go away. Coke, Pepsi, Yoo-Hoo, Orange Crush, Like, Tab...all had to be sorted by brand and size and put into incredibly heavy wooden containers and stacked. Not such a great deal, as it turned out. But, I needed the money. I wanted to buy a new electric guitar at Sam Ash in Huntington and I knew it would cost at least $500. So, I started as the Bottle Boy last year, and worked seven days a week to save for the guitar. I even missed the World's Fair in Flushing to be able to save. The bottles just kept coming.
As with most routine jobs, I settled into a comfort zone of tasks which I followed unconsciously. I became familiar with the "regulars" and could even predict their individual purchases. People like "Frankie Fox Head", who came in every Friday night and bought Fox Head Ale, the cheapest beer ever made.....or "1/4 Pound Jimmy".. the cold cut expert who knew exactly how many slices of Boar's Head Bologna he would be going home with.
So...another Friday night and I am thinking about going to the movies after work. "FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX" is playing at the Bethview...I get in for free because I work in the shopping center...but I've seen it twice. "THUNDERBALL", the newest James Bond flick is at the Morton Village...but too far to walk. As I am weighing my options, one of the "regulars" walks in.., Bobby..I think his name was. Looks like James Dean, and he knows it. Rheingold Chug-a-Mugs, for sure. Tonight he buys 3 six-packs. He's older...you can buy beer at 18 in 1965...and has his own car...he drives what we would call a "junker" today, but I am 16 and wish it was mine.
"Hey, Bottle boy"
"Hey, Bobby"
"What's shakin?"
"I've got an hour to go...having a party?"
"Just cruising"
I thought he was drunk already. The old German rang him up and I walked with him to the front.
We stood in front of the store, smoking. The parking lot was empty except for a few cars.
"Hey...are you going anywhere near Morton Village later?"
"I don't know...when Later?"
"I get off in an hour"
"Maybe if I'm around"
He walked off towards his car...I could see one other person in the front seat. I flicked my cigarette away and went back inside. I still had to set up a display of Metracal...a diet drink.
About 20 minutes later..I was sweeping the sidewalk outside the store and Bobby pulled up again, this time with a car full of kids. I knew most of them...Paul L...Roger K...Stephanie M...and Nancy.
"You still wanta ride?"
"I don't get off for about a half hour"
"Too bad...You snooze, you lose."
He drove off towards Round Swamp Rd...in 2 hours, three of the five would be dead.
It was September 17th, 1965.
You snooze, you lose.
Not always.
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