Last week I went back to what used to be my favorite place in the world. The Russian bungalow colony up by Elenville, NY. Back then it was called the Ann Mason Bungalow Colony and I wrote about it in the New Yorker and my memoir Little Failure. I hasten to add that “Russian” was merely our common language; the bungalow colonists hailed from Ukraine, Moldova and Lithuania as well.
Here’s me in front of the bungalow where we lived!
It would appear some Hasidic folks bought the bungalow colony after the Russians left and it has been slowly falling apart ever since. (A part of me wondered if I should buy it and turn it into a writer’s colony but that would be insane. Right?)
Now this flimsy structure is where the pay phone was. Young people might be interested to know that in the 1980s we did not have iTelephones. We had phones with cords and Billy Idol. Someone would run around the colony screaming “Phone call for Gary’s Babushka!” to facilitate emergency communications between Upstate and Queens.
I think I had my first crush on a girl who lived in this bungalow. But maybe it was another one. They all look kinda the same.
This was da pool where I learned how to swim! It had water then.
And in this synagogue I became a “man” when I turned 13. It has also surrendered to the Hasidim.
Ooh la la. To us post-Soviet immigrants these were some fancy kitchens.
The small town of Ellenville used to be super sleepy, but now it’s filled with cool restaurants and crap. This was the theater where I saw Octopussy!!!!!
I hope you’ve enjoyed my trip through the past. My childhood love of bungalow colonies inspired me to write Our Country Friends. The past keeps on giving.
Yes, turn it into a writers' colony!!
Was it the bungalows that all looked the same—or the girls? :)