Searching For Mrs. Beasley

Me and My Mrs. Beasley Doll

This is me and my Mrs. Beasley Doll.  I must have been around 6 or 7 years old at the time.  This photo was taken in our living room at 31 Oliver Street, New York City, NY, before the fire of 1971.   The window behind me is the actual window a fireman pulled me through to save me, when the building was on fire. (See my previous posts, Tenement Life, Parts 1 and 2).


She was my favorite doll and was supposed to portray an old woman.  Nanny?  Teacher?  I'm not sure.  Mrs. Beasley was seen on the television series of the mid 60's - Family Affair - about a single dad raising three kids with the help of a butler.  Butler?  Wow, weird now thinking back...lol.  Mrs. Beasley was the doll of the character "Buffy", the little girl.  She had a twin brother, "Jody" and an older teenage sister, "Cissy". 

Family Affair

Mrs. Beasley said 11 phrases when you pulled her string.  They were:

1.  "Long ago, I was a little girl, just like you"
2.  "You can call me Mrs. Beasley, would you like to play?"
3.  "Do you want to hear a secret? I know one"
4.  "If you were a little smaller, I could rock you to sleep"

5.  "It would be such fun to play jump rope...don't you think?"
6.  "Would you like to try on my glasses, you may if you wish"
7.  "I do think you're the nicest little friend I ever had"
8.  "Speak a little louder dear, so Mrs. Beasley can hear you"
9.  "Do you want to play?"
10. "Gracious me, you're getting to be such a big girl!"
11. "If you could have three wishes, what would you wish for?"

Mrs. Beasley was left alone in the apartment during the fire.  Some days later, as far as I can remember, we were allowed back in our apartment to see if we could salvage anything.  I guess this was because the fire originated on the top floors and we lived on the second floor.  There was a lot of water damage to everything in the apartment, and the smell of damp stuff combined with the smell of stale smoke, was more than my little mind could take.


Mrs. Beasley lay in a corner, damp, smelly and smashed.  Her glasses were nowhere to be found.  Although my grandmother said she could wash it, I left her there and sobbed.


Now I want another Mrs. Beasley doll.  I've been looking on E-Bay and they have quite a few.  For some reason, none of the ones I've looked at have any glasses!  A vintage Mrs. Beasley Doll runs for around $100, so I'm pretty sure I'll have a replacement Mrs. Beasley soon.  Heck, it only took me 40+ years!


If you stay tuned and look at my posts regularly, you will see a new photo of me with my new vintage Mrs. Beasley!  I'll try to get my hair up the same way it was in the 60's photo.  I make no guarantee of wearing a purple blouse with a very large tulip, though!  : )


Although I've been through some pretty rough things in this life, I still consider myself one of the lucky ones.  As for "Buffy", played by actress Anissa Jones, she passed away at age 18 in 1976,  from a drug overdose.

"Buffy" played by Anissa Jones, with Mrs. Beasley

Rest in beautiful peace, dear Anissa.  Thank you for the memories.  I hope you have a brand new Mrs. Beasley Doll keeping you safe and warm.  

Tenement Life - Part 1

Me, age 10

93 Madison Street, New York, NY

I was rescued by a fireman when I was 8.  He carried me, my brother, grandmother and Lucy the dog out of our living room window and onto the extended ladder.  It was the fire of February 3, 1971 at 31 Oliver Street, lower Manhattan.  I don't remember fright.  I only remember wrapping my little arms around that fireman and thinking...thank you, hero.  It was a bone-chilling night and the place downstairs, a bookie joint, let us stay a while and kept us warm.  It was the first time I saw shows on a color-t.v. and I was in awe.  This was the original "shock and awe"...lol. 

Eight months before this, my father had passed away at age 37 from heart-related issues.  Three years before the fire, my mother had disappeared.  To this day, I don't know if she is alive or dead, and I honestly would have the same numb feeling either way.

After a short stay at the President Hotel, right smack in the middle of Times Square (thanks to the American Red Cross), we were placed in a two-bedroom apartment at 93 Madison Street - 2 blocks from 31 Oliver Street.  The photo above is the actual building, present-day.  Our apartment faced the back and was on the third floor.  It was a run-down, six -story, walk-up tenement, although I didn't know at the time what a tenement was, and didn't realize it was run-down.

My brother and I were raised by our paternal grandmother, Anna.  She did the best with the knowledge and resources she had, which wasn't very much for sure.  We each got to pick out colors of paint for our bedrooms.  I shared the "big bedroom" with my grandmother, and my brother, Joe had his own tiny bedroom.  I chose a bright orange paint.  I was on an orange kick back then.  The landlord was a slumlord and heat and hot water was scarce.  My grandmother made sure to start up the small electrical heater in my room, about 20 minutes before I had to wake up for school so I wouldn't wake up to the cold.

Fun and adventure was still aplenty, even though we were basically poor.  My grandmother was severely over-protective of me and I felt lucky and happy if I was even allowed to stay a while in the hallway outside the apartment and sit on the steps with a friend of mine who lived upstairs - Maria Migliorini.  She was about 5 years older than me and always had Marlboros on her...lol.  She would light up and puff away, all awhile frantically waving her arms about in an attempt to move the smoke away.  She also suggested I try a puff, and I did.  I was 9, she was 14.  To say I started coughing would be an understatement.

In the summer, my brother and I would play a game where he would throw something down to the fire-escape below and I would have to run down the ladder and get it.  (unbeknownst to our grandmother) Then he would run down and we timed each other.  He taught me how to catch and throw a football right there in the living room.  We ate home-cooked veal cutlets, meatballs with sauce and sweet sausages from the Italian sausage man down the block.  If grandma didn't have the energy to cook, we were fine with t.v. dinners.  They came in aluminum containers back then and had to be heated in the oven for 3o or more minutes.  Of course we ate the tiny dessert first.  

There was a little old Italian man from the "old country" who lived upstairs who spoke no English, but knew how to approach me to try to get a kiss when I was around 13 or 14...hahaha.  I remember we would pass each other on the stairs.  Me going down and him coming up and straight towards me.  I was petite and nimble and would easily duck my head and shoot down the stairs in avoidance.

I had all the toys I wanted, pets, was nicely dressed (according to my grandmother's taste), was a great student, and won two awards at 6th grade graduation.  One for Art and one for Reading.  One material thing my brother and I were never allowed to have was a Christmas tree.  My grandmother thought it insensitive to my dead dad to display a "festive" tree.  My dad was her only son and she never really got over his death.  

To Be Continued...