Before they moved to the "suburbs", John and Anita Pekarske lived on Mt Vernon Ave - near "downtown". I remember each - somewhat rare - visit as a most excellant adventure. This was partly because I was old enough to be allowed to explore on my own, but mostly because their neighborhood was so exotic compared to my day-to-day environs.

The four blocks surrounding our home on 17th and Finn were so flat that you could place a perfectly round sphere at any location and it would still be there 6 months later (if it had not been stolen). Grandma and Grandpa Pavlet's home on 25th street was half a dozen steps up in front, but then dead flat to the alley behind. Also, I could walk to Grandma Pavlet's, but we had to drive to Grandma Pekarske's. It was quite a while before I learned enough about navigating the highways and byways by automobile to have some idea where they lived, and even then I do not think I fully appreciated the larger environment beyond what I could explore on foot.

Firstly, the Pekarske estate was on a serious hill! As you can see in the first image below, the front of the house was almost twice as high above the street as the Pavlet compound. And then there were two more flights of stairs in the back yard before you reached the alley! You could almost see over the two story bungalow from the alley!

The Pekarske house was second from the corner. In the above picture it has the green first story and brown second story. If you look carefully you can see the side street that runs next to the yellow house. The picture below is taken from a spot part way up that side street, and the Pekarske home has the brown bump-out in back and the large dormers - neither of which exist in my memories.

If you study the small map inserts in the lower left corner of each image, and you know something about Milwaukee geography, you may recognize that the river that shows on the west and south of the property is the Menomonee River. The Menomonee River Valley was a highly industrialized strip that separated "downtown" from the near south side. Each major north-south street (35th, 27th, etc) had a major viaduct that spanned the full width of this valley, and I grew up hearing jokes about these being the longest bridges in the world because they stretched from America to Poland. For Grandma and Grandpa, moving north of the valley may have been considered an American Dream. I certainly do not remember Grandma ever waxing nostalgic about the good old days.

Before Eisenhower passed the Interstate Highway Plan, the Interstate corridor south of Mt Vernon was occupied by a large railroad engine servicing facility. There was one more street futher up the hill from Mt Vernon, and I would walk up the side street to the top and watch the railroad operate for hours at a time. I got an interest in model trains from my father, and from this elevation, the operations down below almost looked like toys. The railroad had mostly converted to diesel by then, but there was still a fully functioning roundhouse in place, and I imagined that they might still use it for more complex repairs, although I do not think I ever saw the turntable run. They did have several car washing stands and they would run the diesels thru for cleaning. I remember that, mixed with the noise and the smell of diesel oil was the subtle fragrance of yeast raising, which I later learned came from a large bread factory further up the valley.

My memories of the inside of Grandma's house extend to little more than dark and musty and Winchester chimes, but I have vivid memories of times sitting on the front porch. From the front porch you could look downhill to the north and see the giant Miller High Life sign and the tops of the building comprising the Miller Brewing Company. On a clear day you could even make out the Wells street viaduct, and maybe a street car trundling precariously across. (I believe my mother once took me on that streetcar over the viaduct and all the way to the Allis-Chalmers Plant, in West Allis, where my father worked.)

When the Braves moved from Boston to Milwaukee in 1953/54, they moved into a brand new stadium that was constructed in the Menomonee Valley just to the west. When the Braves were playing in town we would sit on the porch and listen to the play-by-play as it was announced over the PA system at the stadium. The veterans at the hospital on the higher ground to the west apparently could see the play, and we could hear their cheers when something good happened.

I discovered baseball in 1954 and these memories may have added to its appeal. I went to my first live baseball game when my father took me down the hill to a side street that led to a foot bridge across the Menomonee and we WALKED into the ball park. To this day I think that true basball viewing cannot involve automobiles and parking lots.