Oak Park Lanes: Where Style Met the Gutter

By Rick Fishman / Oakland, Calif.

Some kids grow up in a house. I grew up in a bowling alley.

The place was Oak Park Lanes, on Coolidge Highway, near Nine Mile Road in Oak Park, Mich. . More than a bowling alley. It was my social center. If you were looking for me, you could call me or find me there.

Oak Park in those days had a map, drawn by places, not just streets. Stage Deli at Nine Mile and Coolidge, Stafford’s farther up and Hy Horenstein’s at the corner of Ten Mile. These were the landmarks where you could get something to eat, where kids hung out, and where someone might know your brother, your parents, or your business before you even walked in.

Oak Park Lanes sat right in the middle of that world.

My older brother Gary had the responsibility of watching over me, so he took me with him everywhere, which meant I was exposed early on to older boys, older jokes, older language, and a certain kind of teenage wisdom not available in any classroom. I heard things I probably should not have heard, learned things I probably should not have learned, figuring out quickly that to survive around older boys, I had to toughen up a little.

The bowling alley had its own code: friendly, but not soft.  Kids talked to each other in a way that today might require a waiver. We insulted each other constantly, but there was affection underneath it all. You learned how to take it, give it back, and never let anyone see that they had gotten to you.

Oak Park Lanes taught me more than bowling. It taught me timing, competition, and the art of the comeback. It taught me how to walk into a room full of older guys and not look lost. That kind of bravado became useful later in life. Turns out the bowling alley was preparing me for business, music, women, friendship, and every room where you had to decide who you were before someone else decided it for you.

Bowling became a major part of my life. Not casual, “let’s rent shoes once in a while” bowling but League bowling jackpot–bowling We knew who was good, who just thought he was good, and who was about to be taught the difference.

There was a friendly rivalry among the kids, although “friendly” may be too polite a word. We were competitive and loud and we wanted to win. A bowling score was more than a number. It was a public statement. A strike was not just ten pins. It was proof. You stood on the approach, ball in hand, with everyone watching, and for that moment, you either had it or not. Bowling gave me a place to excel at something. It gave me an identity, believing I could do something that mattered.

In the 1960s, bowling was huge in America, and Oak Park Lanes was packed. There were church leagues, work leagues, B’nai B’rith leagues, and enough bowlers walking around with monogrammed, uniformed shirts to make you think bowling was a branch of the military.

Famed bowler Ed Lubanski throwing the 2-finger ball

There was true bowling history inside Oak Park Lanes, and much of it came through Ely Rose, the proprietor. Ely had been in the business forever.  He was friends with Ed Lubanski, which gave the place a certain authority. Ed was a Hall of Fame bowler who once rolled back-to-back perfect scores of 300 on national television.  He was not some distant legend. Lubanski made Oak Park Lanes feel bigger than a neighborhood hangout. It felt connected to the whole bowling universe.

I loved Oak Park Lanes so much that I wanted to have my Bar Mitzvah party there. I was turning 13 and "becoming a man". Where better to celebrate than at the place where I already felt like "one of the guys "? My mother did not agree. So, we settled on Jack Barnes Dance Studio, just down the street. It was more appropriate with better lighting, fewer cigarette machines, and less chance of someone yelling, “Nice shot, Fishman,” during the blessing over the challah.

Oak Park Lanes was my real clubhouse. I had my own locker. And as I kept bowling, my skills, attitude, and teenage chutzpah continued to improve. Somewhere along the way, I became known as “Fingers Fishman,” which sounded just dangerous enough for a teenage bowler. Within three years, I was bowling for money against older boys, but those my own age were starting to step up, too. There were the Bergies (Warren and Gary Bergman), Binky Bengels, Eddie Harold, Richard Allen, his cousin Freddy Abramson and of course, the Paper Boy. In addition, there were Jack Rubinstein, Alan Stone, Ronnie Eckelman. On a good day you could make $25-$75 bucks, so we met on Sundays for our version of Bowling for Dollars.

Then came the 300 game.

The newspapers covered it: "Ricky Fishman, 17 Years Old, Bowled a Perfect Game. The 12 strikes in a row that every bowler dreams about. The event was witnessed by Ely Rose and all the guys. Newspaper stories in those days were a much bigger deal than just having something “liked” online. A newspaper clipping had substance. It could be saved, shown, folded, unfolded, and used by your mother as evidence that maybe all those hours at the bowling alley had not been a complete waste of time. My name was posted on a sign above the bowling alley doors. Could this be my path and not music? I was in a band, but who needs all that schlepping?

For a while, I was sort of famous. Not movie star famous. Not even local television weatherman famous. But in the world that mattered to me, I had done something real. I even thought that maybe I could "go professional," but that dream ended over dinner at Stafford’s restaurant with my mom, Jeanne Fishman. I told her that I wanted to be a pro bowler. She did not pause or pretend to consider it. She looked at me and said, “Jews are not bowlers.” And that was the end of my proposed bowling career. There are moments in life when a parent offers guidance. This was not guidance. This was a ruling from the Supreme Court. No appeal. No discussion.

Oak Park Lanes eventually disappeared, closing abruptly in April 1988. The building was gutted and redeveloped into Coolidge Park Plaza retail strip. The building had served its purpose and moved into memory. That is the strange thing about the places that shape us. They seem permanent when we are young. Then one day the building is gone, but you realize the real story was what happened inside it.

For many people, Oak Park Lanes was where they joined leagues, took lessons, met friends, and spent a Saturday afternoon. For me, it was where I learned how to compete, how to talk back, how to take a joke, how to make a little money, and how to walk into a room as myself.

I did not know it at the time, but that was where I was finding my way.

Not just bowling.

Growing up.

The author bowling in California last year

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Rick Fishman of the Martini Brothers Swing Band and a former Royal Jammer, grew up in Oak Park, Mich. He has owned his own retail businesses for close to 50 years. After moving to California in 1976, he founded the LeSportsac franchise in 1978, Traveling Light Stores, and As Time Goes By collectibles stores. For more than 25 years, he has operated ArtDecoCollection.com, now supported by a 7000 square foot brick and mortar showroom by appointment, while currently producing the digital book, Art Deco Resource Guide. https://artdecocollection.com/art-deco-resource-guide/