“We came here in 1980 once I started working for the city. To the bungalows…It was nice. Once we got working, we got the bungalows on 100th Street, Steeplechase Court, and that was it.” Stephen, “Steve,” or “Steve-o” Gifford, my neighbor, grew up in Greenpoint and moved to Rockaway at 19. While living in Brooklyn, Gifford met his wife (who went to a different school) while they were both young: “I was…what year was that. I don’t even remember. It was so long, please…I met her in the schoolyard. St. Cecilia’s schoolyard. We used to play wiffle ball.
“I spent the winters in Brooklyn, and we vacationed out in Patchogue. It was sort of better than this, but you had to pay to go to the beach. We had a house—it was a bungalow really, a converted bungalow—two bedrooms, a living room, a porch, and a small kitchen. And we had me, my brother, my sister, my cousins, my mother, my father, my grandmother, and my uncle,” Gifford said, counting each person on his fingers as he named them. “So, it was…nine of us in the 20×20 house. Yeah, it was good. We all shared bunk beds and uh, the pull-out beds. It was nice. And we were out all day. Across the street was a park, they had summer programs. It was nice, real nice. Then you had the bay. And then we took the ferry to Fire Island; they had a municipal pool there.”
When he moved to Rockaway, Gifford had just been hired as an electrician for the city, a job he would hold for 31 years. “Me and my buddy Charlie. Yeah, he died a long time ago, but he was a character. Me and him shared a bungalow, it was like $300. It was great. We had hot water. Steeplechase Court it is now. It’s all winterized now, but next to it is all new houses, and that was the cold-water flats. They had no hot water, so they all came over to ours,” he said. “We had a party. We never left bungalow court because, uh, there was just trouble. You’d get into a fight everywhere. We just hung out amongst ourselves. The Wades were all lifeguards. So, we met the Canarinos, Billy was a chief on 86th Street, and the Mundys were down there. And it just went bad from there. We were drinking way too much, and I’m working full time,” he laughed, thinking back on his rowdy bungalow days.
Gifford has now been retired for 14 years. He has picked up a lot of hobbies in that time. The favorite, he said, is “fixing houses,” but he also collects vintage cars. Right now, Gifford owns a Ford Model T and a 1957 Corvette, which he often takes for rides on the Boulevard, but also shows in car shows and parades. “I’ve always wanted one [a Model T] because it’s a panic. It’s totally different. You could drive it on the streets now ‘cause nobody’s going over 20 miles an hour. I’ve had it up to 30 miles, but 30 is not good,” he laughed. “Thirty in that car is like doing 30 on your bicycle—you’ll die, and the brakes—it takes you two blocks to stop when you’re going that fast. I go to the mermaid parade with it. It’s Saturday, so I’m going.” Coney Island Mermaid Parade dwellers, keep an eye out. “It’s the best day in Coney Island; it’s really nice,” Gifford said.
Steve-o was also a St. Francis de Sales CYO coach for several years, having coached me personally in swimming, soccer, and cross-country. I credit him with single-handedly teaching me to swim by throwing me in the deep end of the pool at Far Rockaway High School. He is also an avid swimmer and runner himself. “I started it [running] in uh, like right when I started working, like 19 or 20 maybe ‘cause I was huge—not huge, I was 215 and jacked.” Gifford would go on to run his first of 36 marathons in 1987 (“or 1988, I don’t know anymore”). “You know what? I did it to get in shape, cut the weight, but I did it because my buddy Mr. McCambridge ran it, and the first year, I nearly scared him straight, because he came over the finish line, I was this close,” he indicated to the small space between us, “yelling on the sidelines. It was a lot easier back then. You could go right up to the finish. I’m yelling at him; it was terrible,” he stopped and laughed. “So I was like, ‘Eh, we’ll do it.’ So I had, uh, there was three people running from Greenpoint. It was me, Mr. McCambridge, Sheila Hughes, and Jersey, this Polish guy–oh, four people.” After that, Gifford would run a marathon a year, missing only two years in a 38-year period. You can still see his fiery red hair flying by on the peninsula on most days. “I did 10 [miles] this morning; sometimes I run to Breezy, or I’ll go to 37th, on the boardwalk.”
I asked Gifford what he loves about Rockaway: “Aah, the water!” he replied with zero hesitation. “And Greenpoint was—when we first moved out here—I said it about Greenpoint. Every block played each other with seasonal sports and all that stuff. We were playing, all that. I grew up, and everybody says we were poor; everybody was on the same playing field. Not like big money, and we had none of that. There was one guy who used to take us to get pizza. If you wanted to go fishing, he’d take a bunch of kids. Shooting shotguns. He was a neighbor; he didn’t have kids. This guy was amazing. Big John…these guys were great. So, saying all that, Greenpoint growing up, it was like kids everywhere, and that’s what was going on here too, and it was nice.
“It’s changed a little, but this is one of the better neighborhoods. And the water. I’ve always wanted to be on the water.” And what has changed about the peninsula in the nearly four decades he’s been here? “Congestion,” he said. “I think it’s just getting too built up. I think a lot of people…I don’t know. We’re all tight on the block, you know…we’re just lucky.” We talked about the ever-increasing presence of residential and commercial developments—a qualm many residents who have lived here a long time have shared with me—but he is right, we are lucky to live on such a close block.
“I’m set. Like, I live within my means. I’m happy. I got a car, I got a house, I got a bungalow, kids, friends. It’s—I’m done! I said, ‘If I die, big deal!’ You die early, the kids cry until they get the inheritance, and then they’re all happy,” Gifford finished with his familiar, artistic blending of genuineness and dark humor.
