by Dr. Joe Lydon (1922-2011)
My father told me that in the early days, Mr. Frothingham,
who owned Rocky Glen, had a small zoo there, made up mostly of monkeys.
Remember how monkeys bite sharply on any proffered nuts? Mickey Rafter (from
Minooka) always carried a few blasting caps for them. When they bit down, my
father said, the cage was “full of paws and jaws” as they exploded. Boys are
boys!
When I was a kid, we would sneak in with the crowds of
orphans on “Orphans’ Day.” Not that we fooled anybody. I remember the man with
the megaphone directing the various orphanage groups: “The orphans from St. Patrick’s’
at this table! The orphans from St. Nicholas’ at the next table! etc. And the
orphans from Minooka and Greenwood at this table!!!' Nice man.
Swimming at Rocky Glen: Not near the regular beach-bathhouses. (None of us owned an
item so civilized as a bathing suit!) We just went back to the end of the lake
to the “Star,” our favorite BAB (bare-ass beach). Nobody ever drowned there. (They
would have been “drown-ded.”)
The lake was formed by a run-off of some old collieries. The
water had such a high sulfuric content, you dared not open your eyes under
water.
Some Sundays in summer were designated as days for the
various nationalities. Believe it or not, “Irish Day” was very tame. The great
days were Italian or Polish days! The joint really jumped—as did a parachutist
who always came down in the safety of the lake. I remember one who used three
chutes sequentially: red, white and blue.
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