Robert L. Brunk

The following recollections of Rock Island in the 40s and 50s were written by Robert L. Brunk, who was born in the city. His comments are published complete and unedited. I include them in this manner, because they represent feelings from a time long past--over half a century. While some of his comments would be "politically incorrect" today, I include them for their historical flavor. Comments are welcome, because many will be able to offer another side to his story:

I was born in 1937 at St. Luke's Hospital in Davenport, but went home with my parents, Harold and Fanny Brunk to my older brother, Harold, Jr., to our apartment above the Spencer theatre where my father worked. My mother used to tell me about our life there, about a large ballrom by our apartment, where my brother and I played when the weather was bad. My brother rode his tricycle around and around. She used to take us over to Spencer Square park to enjoy the park, and get some fresh air; we also used to (according to some old photo's) go up on the roof of our building sometimes to catch some air. This was before air conditioning, and many families could not even afford fans.

My father at some point took a job next door as a bartender for the Lobby Liquor bar and grill. My brother and I were never allowed inside the bar, and after we had moved to Davenport my mother would keep us in the car until my father came outside to go home. I recall a Coney Island right across the street, west, from the Lobby Liquor bar, and the fantastic smells that emanated from that restaurant. The smells of the early Tri-Cities are as much a part of my growing up memories as the sights and sounds.

As I said, we moved to Davenport, but Rock Island stayed a part of our lives, since my father worked there, we had relatives on both sides in Rock Island, and my mother used to bring my brother to Rock Island to shop once in a while. A great treat in the summer was to ride the Quinlan ferry boat from Davenport to Rock Island and then back home. My brother and I snuck upstairs on one trip and there was a band, with people dancing!

At some point our parents began to whisper about our moving back to Rock Island. By this time we were confirmed Davenporters! Thus the thought terrified us. We had cousins in the Rock Island schools, and we had heard that in arithmatic classes they had to say "put" and "take away", instead of the proper "add" and "subtract." We wanted no part of such things!

Over the years I became aware of the athletic rivalry between Davenport and Rocky High. When I was very small my father had no car, which meant a trip to see my cousin play for D.H.S. meant a trip on buses. We were standing on the bus stop (I believe on 20th St. and 3rd Ave.) with others, when a group of young men from Rock Island asked a group of young men waiting for the bus if they were from Davenport. When they proudly said they were, they were instantly attacked. So much for sports and sportsmanship going together was one of my early lessons.

Years later as a high schooler some of my friends and I went to Rocky's stadium to watch a junior varsity football game. It was a tough game, with many penalties. Near the end (D.H.S. was winning) a voice came over the loud speaker (we were told it was Shorty Almquist the varsity coach), and we were told we were only guaranteed so many safe minutes to get back across the bridge. Our group did not tarry. One night two of my friends and I decided to go to the Rock Island teen spot below the R.I. P.D., because I was "sweet on" a girl from Rocky my girl cousin, also from Rocky, had introduced me to. We danced one dance (did I say all three of us had on D.H.S letter jackets?), and the girl advised us that we probably better leave. We left under the hot, steady glare of many eyes.

During WW II my father was overseas, and times were tough. I can recall ration coupons and shortages. We were wondering how we were to pay for coal for our furnace, when one day a coal truck showed up at our house. My mother told the driver she had not ordered the coal, and that she had no money to pay for the coal. He told her that she did not have to worry about that, because my father's former boss, the owner of Lobby Liquors, had paid for the coal. Over the years when I have heard people badmouth Jewish people as cheap and uncaring I would use this true story to show that such thinking is unsupported by my experiences. It was not a Gentile who kept us warm, but a Jewish man.

Shopping downtown Rock Island with my mother and grandmother, who lived in the Arsenal Courts was fun growing up. As a teen and a young man I enjoyed movies at the Rocket and Fort as a pleasant change from Davenport's fine movie theatres, and the wonderful fried chicken of the Dutch Inn. I am not proud of what follows, but as a senior in high school and a few years later, downtown Rock Island became a center for teenaged drinking. During the 1950's, if you did not act the fool and minded your manners, you were welcome at the Paddock Club, the New Yorker, Buvette's, and other places, but we prefered the Padduck Club for its bands and great pizza. There was a group called the Satellites that had an alto sax that could really get a crowd going. I recall songs like "I'm Just A Bad Boy" and "Night Train." Over on 20th St. there was a bar that featured a black woman singer named Caldonia.

One night as a junior higher I was riding around with my older brother and his friends, and they decided to see how I would react to a visit to Mills Cafe. I was amazed that there was nobody cooking a thing, and nobody eating a meal! Imagine my surprise when a woman brought about six young women, and said, "Take your pick." When it dawned on my where I was I made tracks for the car, and the laughing boys were right behind me.

Rock Island had a rough reputation. When I was a teen I remember a national scandal magazine coming out with a story, "The Tri Cities, Where People Live In Davenport, Work In Moline, and Sin In Rock Island." The latter may have said "Raise Hell In Rock Island,' but I think the former is probably accurate. But Rock Island remains in my heart as a place of early happy memories, of family, of quieter and easier times. of great smells, sights, and sounds. Truth be know there was as much sin and graft going on in the other cities! But in all of them there were a preponderance of decent people rearing families, working hard, and making a nation from where they lived and labored.