It was sometime in the mid-1980s. I was having dinner at Forlini’s restaurant at 93 Baxter Street in downtown Manhattan with my good friend Rudy Riska, who was the Athletic Director of the Downtown Athletic Club and was known as the King of the Heisman Trophy. I had grown up across the street from Forlini’s, in a tenement house at 134 White Street, the corner of Baxter Street in Sixth Ward, across the street from the city prison called Tombs. Rudy had grown up on Madison Street, in the rising fourth district, just a 10-minute walk away.

The people of the fourth and sixth districts were friendly enemies, especially in sports. My earliest memory of the Fourth District was in 1958 when I went to play minor league baseball at Coleman Oval, under the Manhattan Bridge. By then, the neighborhood had been completely transformed and tens of thousands of people had been driven from their homes by the cruel Eminent Domain law. This was done to make way for the construction of Al Smith’s low-income projects and Chatham Green middle-income cooperatives. The same had happened in Sixth Ward, albeit on a smaller base, to make way for the construction of Chatham Towers middle-income cooperatives.

Over dinner at Forlini’s, Rudy told me about the Fourth Ward from the 1940s and early 1950s. He mentioned streets that no longer existed; such as Roosevelt Street and Oak Street, and parts of Williams Street. And he mentioned a Catholic church he’d never heard of called St. Joachim’s, which was on Roosevelt Street. Then Rudy started talking about the guys he grew up with.

“Do you remember Victor Star?” Rudy asked me.

No I didn’t, but after reading the wonderful book “Between Two Bridges” by Victor Colaio (Victor Star), although I never met the man, I know Victor Star very well (we even went to the same high school – Cardinal Hayes in the Bronx).

Both Victor and Rudy are 10-12 years older than me. The Lower East Side they grew up on was slightly different than the Lower East Side I grew up on. Sure, we played stickball, stoopball, softball, hardball, basketball, and soccer, just like they did, but we had real balls that we bought from a sporting goods store on Nassau Street, the name of which escapes me (Spiegels?). In Victor’s era, they bought pink Spaldeens and the occasional Clincher softball, as we did, but their soccer balls were made of wrapped newspaper and duct tape. Talk about grinding it down. (I guess they used real basketballs, because if the ball wasn’t perfectly round, how could they bounce it correctly?)

Also, in the age of Rudy and Victor, television was a new invention; Basically, only the bars had them to show sporting events like baseball and boxing. However, I don’t recall not having a television in my apartment, nor do I recall any of my friends not having televisions in their apartments. But this was in the mid to late 1950s; not from the mid to late 1940s when Rudy and Victor grew up.

In “Between Two Bridges,” Victor talks about spending many wonderful afternoons at the Venice Theater, which was owned by a wonderful woman named Mazie, who let children into the theater for free if they didn’t have the money. Mazie also gave the Bowery bums money, so they could buy something to eat or, most likely, something to drink. I don’t remember the Venice Theater, but I do remember Mazie, but the Chatham Theater in Chatham Square, under Third Avenue El, which was torn down when I was about 9 or 10 years old. However, the Chatham Theater remained there for many years.

In “Between Two Bridges,” Victor presents the reader with stories of how children played ball in “The Lots,” a strip of dirty dirt under the Manhattan Bridge. I don’t remember “The Lots,” but I do remember Coleman Oval, which was built on the old site of “The Lots.” This is where the Two Bridges Little League Baseball Association played their games. In fact, in 1960 my Transfiguration Little League team beat the Victor’s St. James Little League team for the Two Bridges Championship.

And then there were the nicknames, which almost everyone had.

Victor was Victor Star. My nickname in the Sixth Ward was Mooney; people still call me mooney. Victor mentions childhood friends like Pete the Lash, who was built like a safe and wasn’t afraid to shed his weight. After moving to Knickerbocker Village in Fourth Ward in 1964, I met Pete the Lash, who was definitely an impressive physical specimen; only in the mid-70s did his brick body have a bit of a beer belly. Although Pete was basically a friendly and jovial guy, woe to those who took the wrong side of Pete the Lash!

Victor mentions other nicknames such as Richie Igor, Nonnie, Paulie Knock Knock, Junior, Bunny, and Butch, all men whom I met in later years. But I don’t remember Goo-Goo, Bobo the Hippo, Hammerhead, Paulie Batman, Georgie Egg, Bopo or Bimbo. But I wish I had.

Growing up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan between the 1930s and 1960s was a unique experience; an experience that no longer exists for the youth of New York City. On the Lower East Side, we grew up with people of all denominations and religions. Two Bridges Little League Baseball had Church of the Transfiguration teams, almost exclusively Italian and Chinese. St. James was mainly Irish with some Italians. San José was mostly Italian with some Irish. The Mariners Temple team was Puerto Rican. Educational Alliance and LMRC were Jewish. And Sea and Land, sponsored by the people of the neighborhood, were African-American. And there were Polish children, Spaniards from Spain and Czechoslovakians scattered around the teams.

We didn’t have the time or energy to be racist or judgmental. We all grew up together and we all respected each other. It was the only way to survive.

One thing that Victor points out in his book is very true. If you grew up on the Lower East Side, your balls grew; you had to. You had to fight almost every day, and if you didn’t; they beat you almost every day. Bullies invariably pick on weaker kids or those who don’t fight back. But if you fought back, even if you took a beating or two, the bullies would go on to pray more easily.

It was simply the law of the jungle.

The Lower East Side produced mobsters of all nationalities. But it also produced doctors (Joe Fiorito), lawyers (Mathew J. Mari of the Fourth Ward is a prominent criminal lawyer), politicians (Al Smith of James Street became governor of New York and lost the presidential election in 1928), various judges . (Judge Piccariello), professional singers (Johnny Maestro, Luther Vandross) and professional athletes. Rudy Riska was a professional athlete from the Lower East Side (played for the Triple-A Yankees); his brother Steve was another (the Cincinnati Reds farm system). There was also a guy named Vinnie Head (I never knew his real name) from the Sixth Ward (New York Giants farm system), and Charlie Vellotta, also from the Sixth Ward (Dodgers farm system). Charlie lived on the same floor as me at 134 White Street.

My next door neighbor at 134 White Street was Mikey Black; real name Michael Corriero (we shared a fireplace, and Mikey used to knock on my door frequently because he forgot his apartment key and had to use my bedroom window to get into the fireplace and into his apartment). Mikey, after being on the periphery of youth gangs as a teenager, became a lawyer and later a judge in the New York State Juvenile Court System. He is now the Executive Director and Founder of the New York Juvenile Justice Center.

Therefore, there.

Growing up on the Lower East Side in the mid-20th century couldn’t be better described than Victor Colaio in “Between Two Bridges.” I recommend this book to all New Yorkers, regardless of age group. And if you come from other parts of the country, you can’t help but enjoy this brilliant book too. If non-New York City people can flock to see a ridiculous show like “Mob Wives,” they should read a book that is true to life, not a stereotype of the worst possible people in the area. New York City.

One more thing: if you don’t buy “Between Two Bridges,” I may have to send Pete the Lash to visit you.

And that can never be a very good thing.