Growing Up in My Father’s Candy Store
When I sat down to write my memoir, one of the memories of my youth in New York City comes flooding back—the candy store. My father owned several candy stores in the 1950s and 1960s, and they were more than just neighborhood shops. They were the place where he could lose himself in physical labor, the kind of place where kids raced in after school with pennies clutched in their fists, and adults gathered not only for newspapers and cigarettes but to buy their favorite magazine.
To me, the candy store wasn’t just a business. It was my childhood playground, my father’s escape into work, and later, the foundation of so many stories I still tell. My memoir, “Once A King, Now A Prince,” is my way of preserving that special world, a place where sugar and cigarettes mixed with the sound of neighborhood chatter, the shuffle of comic books, and the smell of fresh newspapers stacked on a wooden stand.
The Candy Store as a Neighborhood Hub
In New York City of the 1950s, every corner seemed to have its own candy store, yet my father’s shop is where he simply sweated out his existence. He did not understand people as much as he understood candy. He stocked penny candy in wide glass jars, fresh pretzels, and in his last shop, egg creams that fizzed perfectly, and rows of comic books that tempted every kid who came through the door.
But these candy stores weren’t just about treats. They were places where the rhythms of the city played out daily. Older men argued about baseball, women caught up on neighborhood gossip, and teenagers leaned against the counter sipping sodas, imagining the world beyond the block. To a kid like me, the candy store was both magical and grounding.
My Memoir and the Books That Shaped Us
As I worked on my memoir, I found myself thinking about the power of books. Just as my father’s candy stores were filled with the magic of sugar, the books that lined my shelves were filled with stories that shaped who I became. Today, when I look at the surge of interest in books on rock and roll, I see a connection between my youth and the culture that defined a generation.
The candy store was often the place where kids flipped through magazines and pulp novels. Later, when rock and roll exploded, I devoured rock n roll autobiographies that made me feel like I was part of something larger than my block. Those books gave me the same sense of excitement as the candy counter did years earlier—sweet, electric, and unforgettable.
The Rise of New Celebrity Memoirs
In the 1960s, the culture of fame grew in ways no one could have imagined during the war years. Just as my father’s candy stores evolved with changing times, so too did the stories people craved. Today, new celebrity memoirs dominate bestseller lists, with stars sharing their struggles and triumphs.
For me, reading new celebrity memoirs feels like slipping back into those candy stores, eavesdropping on conversations at the counter. They’re personal, revealing, and deeply human. My own memoir about growing up with a father who owned candy stores sits at the intersection of these cultural shifts—ordinary lives intersecting with extraordinary times.
In fact, I find myself drawn again and again to new celebrity memoirs because they remind me of how personal stories, even those told by famous names, always resonate with our own. Just as those neighborhood customers brought their lives into my father’s stores, today’s readers bring their own memories to the books they hold.
Candy, Comics, and the Soundtrack of Rock n Roll
No memoir of my childhood would be complete without mentioning how music filtered through those candy stores. Jukeboxes played doo-wop, then Elvis, and soon the British Invasion was on every corner. The kids who bought candy and comics from my father’s stores also carried portable radios, sharing the newest hits.
It was only natural that I became fascinated with rock n roll autobiographies. They gave me a backstage pass to the world I’d grown up listening to, as well as affecting my career choice in music. Just as the candy store connected me to my neighborhood, those books connected me to the larger story of American culture. Even now, when I pick up books on rock and roll, I’m reminded of the days when music and memory blended into something unforgettable.
Writing My Memoir Today
As I write, I find myself moving between the flavors of the past and the words of the present. A memoir, after all, is a way of preserving memory while making sense of it. The candy stores of the 1950s and 1960s taught me about people, community, and resilience.
Now, when I read books on rock and roll, revisit rock n roll autobiographies, or explore new celebrity memoirs, I feel the same sense of wonder I once felt standing behind the candy counter. Stories, whether told in sugar or ink, are what keep us connected.
A Sweet Legacy
This memoir is more than just a reflection—it is a celebration of a way of life that shaped me. My father’s candy stores stood at the crossroads of my childhood, community life, and cultural change. Whether through a penny candy, a comic book, or today’s new celebrity memoirs, the power of stories endures.
And so, I write this memoir with gratitude, for those New York City candy stores, and for the sweetness of remembering.
