THE BIG APPLE The great train rides, brother Frank's Indian Reservation, the scary lookalikes from upstairs, and membership into the West Enders.

I was born during the Roaring Twenties, evolved into a kid riding my bike and playing street ball during the thirties, and then a teenager who hit the ground running at the beginning of the forties.

But before we get started, I want to mention that my first recollection of anything was not about growing up in the small town of Albany, Oregon. Yes, I was born there in 1926, and I do remember a couple of things, like riding a kiddy car and sticking a spoon in our dog's rear end, but it was being on a big train going somewhere when my memory kicked in. That somewhere would be the complete opposite of Albany. Like New York City, no less.

We arrived there in 1931 and it's where we lived for the next two years. Pop got a job that had something to do with the Keystone Utilities because of the depression and that his office was on Wall Street. When I say we, I mean my mom and Pop, my brother Frank, who was about eleven, and me somewhere around four. This didn't include my nine-year-old sister Julia who insisted on staying back in Albany awhile with Aunt Mary to take care of our dog Scotty. How she got away with that I'll never know.

I need to add here this was not a permanent move. Pop was somehow granted a leave-of-absence from his position with Mountain States Power Company to do what he was hired away to do. I can't believe it would take two years.

We lived in a tall apartment building up in Mt. Vernon, north of the Bronx. I remember it had a lot of trees around it and a fenced-off play area for kids that was supervised by a couple of white-uniformed women that I guess were babysitters but looked more like prison guards to me. Like I said, I was only four when we arrived there, but I can remember vividly today the layout of the rooms, even a couple of the pictures on the wall.

We were only there a couple of months when my grandma, Pop's mom, passed away back in Albany. Now listen to this: Pop was given the time off, took a train all the way back to Albany, packed Julia for the return trip, and stopped off in Wisconsin to bury Grandma. Pop and Julia then continued east by train to New York. My sister doesn't recall how long this adventure took, only that she had a a compartment of her own and was a favorite of the porters.

Living in the penthouse of our apartment were twin girls whose parents were becoming world famous entertainers.

I remember playing often with them in the outdoor play area, and I'll never forget what they looked like. I had never seen twins before, especially up close, and these two were as homely as they get. Even at four I could see that. Obviously, their last names won't be mentioned here, especially when you read following:

Julia also became friends with them and since they were more near her age, they often played together. Julia remembers after several weeks had passed when there was a knock on our door and she happened to answer it. Standing there were the twins, side by side, and one of them got right to the point.

"Our mother says we can't play with you anymore because you're an Indian."

With that said, they turned and walked down the hallway and took the elevator up to their penthouse.

It didn't take much of an investigation on my mom's part to uncover what brought this all about. My brother Frank had been telling some of his wide-eyed New York classmates that since they considered him a Wild West inhabitant of the far off Indian country of Oregon, he might as well play along with them. He told them, in all seriousness, that he was part Indian and we had all lived on a reservation before coming to New York. Needless to say, my mom quickly set the record straight on that one too.

In the early part of 1932, Pop was offered a permanent position in Wall Street, but decided living in the big city is not what he and Mom wanted for their family. When that was made known to the Board of Directors at Mountain States Power back in Albany, Pop was offered the vice presidency of the company. We were all soon on the train heading back out west and anxious to get back on the reservation. A few years later, Pop was made president of Mountain States, then when the company merged with Pacific Power & Light in Portland he became chairman of the board. But he and Mom would remain in Albany.

Getting back to the early 1930s, I remember we quickly moved from our house near the center of town farther west up to West Elm and Sixth Street. And it would all start a couple of months later when I entered the first grade and was escorted to the opposite side of the block to Seventh Street to Maple School by my mom and new friends Billy Ewing and Tommy Dawson.

I was now a new member of the West enders.

OUR TOWN The Rialto Olympics, Spring Hill time, escape from Chinatown, stars in our eyes, and the national record nobody wanted to talk about.

Before we go much further, it might be a good idea to roll out the map and tell you where we're going to be spending the following time together. Look up in the far left corner and you'll see the state of Oregon. That's where we're going to be. No, it's not pronounced Ore-gone! It's Ore-gun!

The small town in Oregon I was blessed with being brought up in was Albany, population then somewhere around 6,000. Today it's more like 52,000. We had a courthouse with the typical large clock tower, but it was torn down about 1939 and replaced with an imposing structure that still stands to this day in the middle third street facing down Broadalbin toward the heart of downtown. I can remember the big attraction when it was built was the installation of the town's first self-operated elevator, or the first ever anywhere as far as we were concerned. It would attract the curious, especially on Saturdays. People would get in line for a free demonstration ride up and down to the second floor.

Exciting! But then we were in the fast-moving modern era of talking pictures and the Sunday newspaper adventures of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon, so anything was possible.

Oh yes, before we continue on, Albany sits in the heart of the Willamette Valley about sixty-eight miles south of Portland and about a mile west just off of today's I-5 Freeway.

The old two-lane highway no longer runs down through main street, which may have been the scene of an encounter some of us kids had with a world famous movie star. At least we want to believe we did. We'll go there a page or so later.

I remember I wasn't in school very long when my new friend Billy Ewing, who lived right across the street from Maple School, had just entered the second grade ahead of me when he suddenly came down with scarlet fever. I don't remember how long he was out of school but I do know he came close...