1964 World's Fair

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Garry WinoGrand
World's Fair
1964




Six attractive young women in short dresses 
.
.
.

sit sandwiched between two men on a bench.

One looks upset as she leans against her friend; the others seem distracted.

They are engaged in stereotypical girlish behavior: chatting, gossiping, and flirting.

Their juxtapositions invite comparisons; their cross-legged postures
and dramatic hand gestures echo one another,
yet are unique to each of them.


The  paragraph is from the Getty Museum.

The "Wino" is Garry Winogrand.

Mr. Winogrand identified only the year of  the photo.

I will identify the exact date: September 29, 1964
It was Catholic School Day at the New York World's Fair.

Ten  Catholic high schools–two from each borough of New York–
were bussed to the fairground.

One of those schools was Bishop Reilly and three of its' students
are vaguely visible in the background of Mr. Winogrand's
iconic photograph.

One of those three boys has a speck of a head that appears to be
in the fountain.  That head belongs to the person responsible for
the crying girl in the middle of the foreground.

That head belongs to me and I will identify the
"Six attractive young women"
and the sandwiching men.

Left to Right:
Mr. Seamster, Miss Hayes, Miss Haynes,
Robin, Allison, Lydia, Nadia,
Mr. Oneill

If Mr. Oneill had not taught Math at Bishop Reilly High School,
I would not be who I am today.

If Mr. Seamster had not taught Music at Bishop Reilly,
Terry Dugan would never have become a multi-millionaire
studio musician.

If it weren't for Terry Dugan, the World's Fair would have sold
200,000 less beers on the  TENTH ANNIVERSARY
of the most famous catch of a little white ball.

  


Willie Mays
Sept. 29, 1954











The most Amazing thing about the "six attractive women" is
that four of them were teenage girls and two of them were
teachers at St. Helena's High School in the Bronx.

Miss Hayes and Miss Haynes looked like twins but were both
first-year teachers, having graduated from Columbia University
less than four months before this picture was taken.

Garry Winogrand had a brother named Francis. So did we:
"Brother Francis" was the Principal of Bishop Reilly
but behind his back, we called him The Grand Wino.

With Mr. Oneill's help, I mathematically proved–
in the executive office of the Grand Win–
that Willie Mays sat at God's right hand.

Terry Dugan had introduced me to Allison that morning.
He also sold one hundred counterfeit Baptismal certificates
to students from each of the ten Catholic schools.

All of the baptized named on the certificates were born
prior to 1946. That is, they were more than
eighteen years old and could legally
purchase beer at the World's Fair
on that day.

Allison fell in love with the jerk who drank
twenty Budweisers within  two hours.

But I was about to make a whole bunch of money.
More money than the other hero of Game 1
of the 1954 World Series.

It was not LIDDLE money

 
 Liddle is the name of the New York Giants' pitcher
who faced one batter–Vic Wertz–
who hit a ball 450 feet.  

The other hero of the game was responsible
for the last three runs to be scored
in the bottom of the tenth inning
at the Polo Grounds.
      

Ten years later,
that man saved my life.

Were it not for him,
I would have had
a criminal record,
one month into
high school. 

In 1954,
On September 29
he hit what we today
call a "walk-off home run."



In 1964, on September 29, he was a Pinkerton security guard
at the New York World's Fair.

Terry Dugan was next to me in the background of the Winogrand photograph.
Ray Peterssen, in a dark shirt, sat on the other side of Dugan.

The two hot young things seated alongside Mr. Oneill–Lydia & Nadia–
were looking in search of Paul Gretschel & Kevin O'donell.
Paul and Kevin were in the process of buying more beers
for their three bishop Reilly classmates.

None of my four buddies drank as much beer as me.
Maybe that was why Terry Dugan dared me to swim
around  the fountain that encircled the Unisphere.

"Five dollars says you can't do it."
"Would that be five dollars from each of you?" I asked.
"YES, but only if you give each of us $5 if you don't make it."
"How about this, Terry. I will give each of you $10
if i do not swim the entire Unisphere circumference
underwater!"

The bet was on.

The determination to win $40 sobered me up real fast
but I acted drunk to make my friends think they were
getting an easy ten spot.

"WAIT A MINUTE, Paul," Ray Peterssen shouted.
"I'll give you $20 if you do it naked."

I dove in, fully clothed.
My ears, being only six inches underwater,
could hear one thousand and one people
cheering me on.

The circumference was maybe fifty yards:
half a football field.

I could have made it twice around.
The supersonic cheers did not stop a
squad of Pinkerton cops from pointing
a gun at a very wet fourteen-year-old
Catholic school boy.

"Is one of you Dusty Rhodes?"

I pointed my finger at each of them.

"He won that World Series game that
we are celebrating the anniversary today.
How many heroes are you security guards."

Two of the dozen Pinkerton ran real fast
to a squad car.

By then, I was seated exactly where I was
when Wingrand took the picute.

I reached into my shirt pocket
and pulled out a zip lock bag
my father had gotten
from the inventor.

They were not yet available
in supermarkets.

I held up Dusty Rhodes' baseball card.
It was perfectly dry.

"I want Dusty to autograph this card."

Meanwhile, Terry, Ray,
Kevin and Paul Gretschel  
were rolling around on the grass,
ten feet away, laughing
their asses off.

Allison was standing behind them,
throwing me kisses.
So were all the other St. Helena's girls.



Mr. Seamster, whose sister Etta
would become the Godmother
of the Lewis Carroll School,
was far back in the distance.

He was making out with Miss Hayes
or maybe it was Miss Haynes.

"I want all of you Pinkertons to give me
your autographs."

The two runaway cops returned
with a big blanket.

They wrapped it around me.
Drying me off as much
as possible.

"Please promise us you won't
swim in the park again."

"I promise."

Then the Pinks walked away.
I walked over to my friends
and collected $40.

The Pinkerton guards at the 1964 World's Fair
were paid $2.25 per hour.

1954 World Series hero Dusty Rhodes
was given a bonus twenty five cents
per hour.

An eight hour shift would have paid him $20.

I made double that amount for swimming
less than two minutes.

 

This page is approximately 85% true
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