Growing up on the West Side of Cleveland, there were no hills to speak of. Which made the Coal Hill extremely valuable to us. It was the only place we could go sledding unless our parents could drive us to more desirable spots that had bigger hills with no vehicle traffic.
Traffic is what made the Coal Hill even more enticing in our world. Mainly because, once you committed to flying down it on your sled, you had to navigate a 90-degree turn with no idea whether cars or trucks would be coming up from the Cleveland Electric Illuminating Company substation.
It was a small coal-fired plant which is how the Coal Hill got its name. The road itself started at the south end of West 40th Street and turned into another street as it descended behind Buckley Playground.
We’d grab our sleds, get a running start, then belly-slam onto the snow, propelling the sled down the Coal Hill. If you hit the bend to find yourself face to face with the front bumper of an oncoming vehicle, you could bale out by going straight and hitting a fence. Or a utility pole. Which one of our friends did.
He considered the pole-shaped dent in the frame of his sled a badge of honor.
The folks at the Illuminating company got tired of scraping kids off the bumpers of their trucks, so they had the road closed. After that, we could only sled as far as the gate they put up close to the plant.
The Coal Hill also happened to be our shortcut to Buckley Playground.
We welcomed the challenge of sneaking through the gate to get to the playground. If you got caught, the power plant guys loved throwing a good scare into you.
My older sister, ever the diplomat, and I got caught one day.
She looked at the big burly power plant guy and said, “This is the way the big kids taught us to go to the playground.”
It practically brought tears to his eyes.
“OK, this time,” he said. “But don’t come this way again.”
He let us through.
Of course that didn’t dissuade us from taking the shortcut. Or sledding with reckless abandon.
Reading about some of your more risky exploits in your childhood makes me wonder how you survived to adulthood. Then reading about some of your more risky exploits in your adulthood leaves me astounded that you have attained your current age. I'm grateful that you have, of course, you're a marvel. But I am truly astounded.
I enjoyed your recollections of Coal Hill sledding - smiles, here, Irv!