Trains of Thought from The Maiden and The Maven

By Lydia Hope Wilen / New York City

& Stan Fischler / North Golan Heights, Israel

Stan Fischler grew up in Brooklyn, as did Lydia Wilen. They met briefly in their borough in 1963 when Stan, a newspaper reporter interviewed Lydia, a comedy writer for stand-up comedian Jackie Mason. Then they reconnected, this time romantically, about 60 years later. If you read their original story, The Maiden and the Maven, in the March 11 issue of the Insider, you’ll know all about this modern fairy tale.

So where do Stan and Lydia go from here?  Back to Brooklyn comparing memories of their lives in the 1940s.

To know what life was like during Stan’s formative years in Williamsburg, Lydia started reading his 2021 memoir, Tales of Brooklyn. It had a unique effect on her, bringing back long-forgotten flashbacks from her formative years in East Flatbush.

Stan has had a love affair with the New York City subway system, starting when he was knee-high to a cockroach. (Who knew from grasshoppers in Brooklyn?) And so, his passion is honored by having him take up most of this article as he and his grandson go for an historic ride on the subway.

Lydia’s very different subway experience is after Stan’s amorous account.

Riding the Rails with Stan

The Q Line originally was known as the Brighton Express. In its own speedy way, it was the flagship run of the BMT Lines.. In Manhattan it ran from 57th Street station then south, over the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn.

When my 11-year-old grandson, Ezra Fischler, came to New York City his Zeyde (Yiddish for grandpa) thought it would be a good idea to take him for a subway ride from Manhattan to Coney Island. Being that Ez is from Portland, Oregon, he couldn’t imagine how thrilled I was that I got a “Let’s do it” faster than a Spaldeen bounces off a stoop.

We had to board the Q train, which used to have a more romantic name when I was a lad. In my knickers-wearing days of the early 1940s  it was known as the Brighton Beach Express. Final stop: Coney Island. (What could be better than that?)

Seeing that his grandpappy was all pumped up, Ezra asked that logical question: “Tell me, Zed, what should I be looking for and when?” Good question. I explained that after barreling downtown, our steep stainless steel 10-car behemoth would break out of the cavernous tunnel and climb to daylight as we roll over the Manhattan Bridge, and so it did. “Hey, Zeyde,” Ez chirped as two light beams from an oncoming Q train flashed by us en route to the other side of the Big Apple.

The author and his grandson, Ezra, through the years

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“You’re now in Brooklyn where Zeyde grew up,” I point out as our Q dipped under Fulton Street, heading south toward Coney. “Watch how fast we go.”

I could tell that Ez was digging it when the Q surfaced at Prospect Park, climbed from the open cut, up the hill, past the Avenue H station and sped to Coney.

There was a lot to tell my grandson; I knew I’d never be able to get it all in.

"When I was your age, Ez, the tracks were connected to one another," I explained, "and when the Brighton Express went real fast and it sounded like this (I pushed my tongue back and forth in my mouth) click-clack-click."

Ez said he couldn't hear it. "Well, that's because they use welded rails now, so the ride is much smoother; but it took the fun out of the ride for your Zeyde."

There was plenty more fun especially when the kid's optics turned wide as our Q screeched around the 90-degree curve over Brighton Beach Avenue and the Coney panorama greeted him. Ez knew in advance that we'd have no time for the amusements and had to turn around and make it back for family eats.

An hour later, we returned to our Upper West Side apartment for dinner and the question that I couldn't wait to ask: "So, Ezra, how did you like the subway?"

"I loved it." Then, a thoughtful pause: "But I kinda think I'd like it better in those days when the Q wasn't even a Q and you could hear that click-clack-click all the way to Coney!”

Lydia’s Turn

Five-year-old Lydia, safe on a seat in her own home

Zip-Up-Your-Doo-Dah

On one no-kindergarten day for five-year-old me, my mother and I went to the city, then took the IRT Lexington Avenue Line back to Brooklyn. We both got seats. From my end-seat, I was able to see part of the shielded door that my mother wasn’t able to see.

As we were getting closer to our Eastern Parkway stop in Brooklyn, a man got on the train, stood in my line of sight and started waving something I had never seen before. Eww. It looked strange. I told my mother about it. As soon as I said, “…and it’s coming out of his pants,” my mother grabbed my arm, pulled me out of my seat and dragged me to the other side of the car, warning the passengers, “There's a man exposing himself near the door.”  By the time the men in the car got to the door to catch the creep, the train was at a stop and the sicko got off (in more ways than one).

Once we got home, I went to my little desk, took out my crayons and drew a picture of what I saw.  I brought it over to my mother and said, “I want to take it to school for Show and Tell.”  My mother had a conniption (fit). She sat me down and gave me a lesson in public lewdness and indecent exposure using her extensive anatomical terminology with descriptions like “down there.” Lesson learned.

That didn't stop me from decades of subway travel and an appreciation for the great New York City subway system.  Now, however, at this stage of my life…“TAXI!”

The author, wondering "What's Uber's number?" 

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Lydia Hope Wilen began her professional career as a comedy writer on Personality, a celebrity-driven game show.  Her greatest gig was her extremely successful collaboration with her late sister Joany as nonfiction bestselling authors (18 books), which led to the sisters becoming  popular TV personalities. They continued as journalists (NY Daily News Sunday full-page feature, Celebrity Surveys for Cosmopolitan Magazine, cover stories for Parade Magazine) and got the opportunity to write and talent coordinate a Nickelodeon series hosted by Leonard Nimoy. The Wilens had an unusually versatile writing range from Reading Rainbow episodes, to off-color comedy skits for Dr. Ruth Westheimer’s TV show, Sexually Speaking, plus three optioned screenplays. And that's just for starters . . .

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Stan was gifted with a silver hockey stick when inducted into the USA Hockey Hall of Fame by the Islanders in 2020

Stanley I. Fischler (born March 31, 1932) is an American historian of hockey and the New York City subway, as well as a broadcaster, author of over 100 books, and professor. As a broadcaster with MSG, Fischler has won seven Emmy Awards (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Fischler)