Rosemont West Neighborhood Association

Of Happy Days, High Swings and Roller-Rinks

Aug 27, 2002

A Personal History
By Mary Ann Nordberg Johnson

I live in the house I grew up in on 12th Street and indeed look out the same bedroom window I had as a child and cook in the same kitchen that holds so many memories of my mom. It turns out that some lucky few can go home again.
My parents John and Helen Nordberg bought their first and only home on 12 Street in November 1950 when I was 10 months old. It was on a bare dirt lot in the desert on the then east-side of Tucson, one of the many post-war housing developments built to shelter the families of the ?“baby boom?” generation. The sturdy little brick home was a palace compared to the cramped apartments that they had previously occupied in downtown Tucson. My dad patiently built a patio wall around the perimeter of the backyard and poured a cement slab for a porch. He also began the heroic struggle to grow some trees and the ever-popular Bermuda grass in the hard soil.
Growing up on 12th Street in the ?‘5-s was a lot like the ?“Happy Days?” TV show?– kids ran and played up and down the streets and in the park without much adult supervision and without fear. The shopping center at Swan and Broadway was built and we kids were sent on frequent errands to Goodman?’s Grocery store or Bentz Variety store for our moms. During one happy season for the kids (less so for the parents) the city dug a four-foot deep trench right down the middle of the street for new sewer pipes leaving three-foot high mounds of dirt on either side and a gigantic hill at the dead end. We made full use of the possibilities and our moms endured endless extra loads of grimy clothes.
Hoffman Park was a favorite gathering spot and the mature trees there now were planted when I was a child. The play equipment was limited to a metal slide, a merry-go-round, and some fantastically high swings placed on the north side hard against the oleander bushes. Arcing high up and touching the very top branches with my toes occupied a lot of my park time. Other diversions within walking distance were on the west side of Swan south of Bonillas School and included a swimming pool (now filled and used as a parking lot behind a church) and a skating rink (one a furniture store now a Carondelet Health supply facility). The skating rink had old-fashioned wooden plank floors, a live DJ spinning the top 40, and a skate-up snack bar selling those really greasy french fries and lemon cokes.
In contrast to these simple pleasures, we were not allowed to forget the Cold War. Tucson was surrounded by 18 Titan missile silos and an air-raid siren on the north side of Broadway near Niven sounded a one-minute test blast every Saturday at 12 noon. The basement of Rincon High held 55-gallon drums of emergency rations piled up in a dark corner and was meant to be our closest bomb shelter in case of nuclear disaster.
I walked or rode my bicycle to St. Joseph?’s elementary school through the 8th grade and then walked through the empty desert north of Broadway to attend Rincon High School. During my freshman year, the school was on double sessions due to overcrowding. Session one was from 6:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. and session two was from 12:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. Relief came in the form of Palo Verde High School.
My parents continued to live in the house on 12th Street after I left home for college, marriage, and various jobs around the country. They lived there quite happily for a tool of 58 years until my dad?’s death in 1996 and my mom?’s in 1998. My mom kept baking her fabulous cinnamon buns and breads and even in retirement my dad persisted in his struggle to plant a jungle of trees and plants in the caliche-riddled yard I moved back into the house with my youngest son in 1999. It?’s a pleasure to sit under the trees my dad planted and use the same kitchen and recipes that my mom left for us.
I find that the 50+years of the Rosemont West Neighborhood?’s history have allowed both the trees and the spirit of neighborly helpfulness and cooperation to grow and mature. We?’re in the middle of the city now not on its fringes. We can enjoy both the cool greenness of the park and a walk to Barnes and Noble for a Starbucks coffee and the New York Times?—what could be better?
If you?’re a long-time Rosemont West Neighbor, I?’d be interested in talking with you and collecting your stories and memorites of our neighborhood to share. Please give a me a call at 881-8372 (evenings) or 514-6000 ext. 102 (days)
Also I?’m holding some dishes left at our April Potluck Picnic in the Park including a 9?”x13?” metal baking dish that held a cherry dessert a glass bowl that contained a spinach/chicken salad, a blue plastic spoon, a black plastic spaghetti server and a pretty hand-made potholder that was under a pot of beans. If these sound like your missing items, please give a call at the above numbers to arrange a reunion.