Mussie

Frank Greco AKA Mussie, was like a father to me. Today is March 4th, his birthday.

We moved to the projects in May of 1955 to First Avenue and 115th Street. I was 11 and Mussie and my mother met shortly thereafter. I called him my stepfather, the truth is he and my mother never married but in every respect I regarded him as a father. Nicknamed Mussie from an early age the story told was he was like a little dictator. It was only natural they named him after Benito Mussolini.

If you recall in one of my earlier blogs, I mentioned when the projects were being constructed on 115th Street my mother would go to the rental office every single day because she wanted the ground floor apartment that faced First Avenue. Every day she haunted that rental office, so much so that they gave her the apartment just to shut her up. Mom would sit by the window and watch everything going on about the Avenue.

The Bookies

After Mom and Mussie had known each other for a few months, Mussie and his brother Harry opened up a little candy/novelty store right across the street from our apartment. This is where Mussie took bets. You see he was a bookie and the candy store was kind of a front, although Harry did actually run the candy store. Sometimes Mom would call him from the window “Mussie” and he would get paranoid because he didn’t want the Policizia (sometimes known as the bulls) to know his name. So Mom started calling him Herbie. At first no one knew who the heck she was calling from the window but everyone figured it out after a while. We would sometimes go hysterical laughing when she would call him to come eat dinner.

Mom worked in the candy store and absolutely loved it. It kept her busy and out of everyone’s hair. Mussie was a very easy going and generous man (more on that later). At first I didn’t warm up to him, he tried everything within his power to get me to like him. He bought me things and gave me little odd jobs to do like give me instructions on how to get his “number slips” to him so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the cops.

He would make it so dramatic… putting his little pieces of paper with names and numbers (of the betters) in a little brown paper bag. My job was to make sure the brown paper bag wasn’t visible and when he gave me the signal, I would head across the street to drop off the little brown paper bag. After my mission was accomplished Mussie would go upstairs into one of the tenement apartments and do his work.

Nicknamed Sequi

When I was around 12 years old Mussie asked me to root for a baseball player, a pitcher named Diego Sequi. He wanted him to strike out the New York Yankees. Apparently one of his “customers” placed a huge bet on the Yankees to win. Mussie told me “Root for Sequi to win and I’ll give you $200.” My mother started yelling at him “What you mean you’ll give her $200? That’s a lot of money for a 12 year old.” Of course I rooted like crazy for Sequi, and when he won, Mussie slipped me the $200 on the sly because he made out heavily on Sequi. From then on I was “Sequi” to him. He loved giving nicknames and when he did, he never again referred to anyone by their given name…

For example my cousin Ann was “Veal Cutlet” because she once told her kids “don’t break my veal cutlet.” Mussie got such a kick out of it…she was forever “Veal Cutlet.” My Niece Donna was “The Maid.” He asked her for a glass of water and she told him “What do you think I’m your maid?” She was never called Donna again. For the life of me, I can’t remember the nickname he gave my Cousin Marie. Hopefully it will come to me before my next blog.

Minnie and Muss

My mother was feared by all of my friends. When they saw her coming, they would run the other way. It was not just the kids though; many adults feared her as well. She had a very stern and hard look about her, but underneath she wasn’t so hard. Mussie however got a big kick out of her. I guess that’s how their relationship worked. Sometimes when she got pissed, he would just laugh. Like the time they were bringing in bags full of groceries. He dropped a dozen eggs and she started yelling. He looked at her and started laughing. What could she do at that point!!

Generous Grandpa Muss

Mussie walked me down the aisle when I got married and was immensely honored. The photo on the right was the only one he wanted. It was framed and on his bureau in a place of prominence.

He paid for the entire wedding. and that’s not all he paid for… there was my first vacation to Puerto Rico when I was 18, my first car a 1969 Oldmobile Cutlass, and so many other firsts. He was the one who taught me how to drive, when I was 19 he started giving me driving lessons after work. He would say “make a turn here” and I would yell at him…”make a turn where…a right, a left? Don’t tell me at the last minute.” He would laugh the same goofy laugh. One night he said “It’s raining. No lesson tonight.” I responded with ” So I’m never gonna drive in the rain?” Again he laughed that goofy laugh and he took me for the lesson.

My kids would love when Grandpa Mussie came to visit. He would bring rolls of quarters that they would unwrap and drop in their huge plastic change jars that looked like barrels.

The candy store was still there in the 70’s when my kids were small. They loved going there because he would tell them “go ahead take what you want.” They would eat hot dogs and drink Manhattan Special sodas. Then Harry would give them a brown bag and they would put as much candy and novelty toys they could carry in them. Grandpa Muss was the best and they loved him, not only because he was so generous, but because he was the only grandfather they ever knew. My ex-husband’s mother and father had died when they were young and sadly they never really knew my father because of our estranged relationship.

I could go on and on telling stories about Mussie. There are so many things that come to mind and if I put them all in this blog it would be way too long. Maybe this topic calls for a follow-up story. Stay tuned….