Steve Nicewanger was always an Eastsider. He was born in the summer of 1950, and his parents actually lived in Irvington on south Emerson, in one of the brick doubles just north of the railroad tracks. His parents, Betty and Bob Nicewanger, were very proud of their first born, a bouncing baby boy. His parents looked like 50s television stars; his Mom looked like Donna Reed and his Dad resembled Jackie Gleason. His father worked in the newspaper business as a photoengraver. 
Steve’s family soon moved in with his paternal grandfather at 1018 N. Lasalle (right behind Audrey’s Place Thrift Store). His grandfather was a widower and in his mid 70s and needed help. It was a nice Arts and Crafts bungalow that grandpa Nicewanger had built years before. It was torn down just a few years ago. After Steve’s sister Janet was born, the family needed more space, so his parents decided to have a house built on north Bancroft in a new subdivision, with an extra bath added to grandpa’s bedroom. The house was stone and had a full basement.
Steve’s Dad (we all called him Pop) always worked the third shift, so Steve and his little sister Janet often played in the finished basement, so as not to disturb their sleeping father.
When Steve was 6 years old, his grandfather died from a heart aneurysm. Steve was the one who found him. (Steve talked about his grandfather on the day he died.)
Steve grew up in the new neighborhood, playing with neighborhood friends. There was a railroad track not too far. He would tell a story about a day when he and his friends were jumping in and out of train cars, the train started up and it was great fun jumping out. Well, one of their buddies was too afraid to jump, no matter how hard they screamed at him to jump, so he ended up riding the train all the way downtown. The boy had to call his father and all the boys got into deep trouble for playing on the train cars.
When Steve was about 7 years old, he was playing at a friend’s house and as they were chasing each other, Steve ran through a glass storm door face first. The broken glass cut two long gashes —one across his forehead and the other across the bridge of his nose. It was a mother’s worst nightmare! The stitches left him looking like one of his favorite horror movie characters – Frankenstein! But as an adult, one had to look close to see the scars. The scar across his nose was just a fine line and his eyebrow had a white mark through it.
Steve attended school at IPS #71 (which is now a nursing home, like the fate of so many old schools). At the time, it was brand new, with the neighborhood being all new subdivisions. His favorite subject was history and his least favorite was math. Over forty years later, Steve organized a grade school reunion at Ft. Harrison State Park and a large group attended, coming in from across the country.
Steve’s family took many trips to Florida for summer vacation; his mother loved the sun and she had a childhood girlfriend there. One year, the car broke down in Kentucky and they had to stay a couple of days until parts came in and they continued the trip. He learned just how friendly and hospitable those southerners are (everyone treated them like family). Another year, he went with his parents and grandfather to Pike’s Peak, which he could only barely remember, except that his mother was so scared she wouldn’t ride to the top.
When Steve was 11, his mother gave birth to his baby sister Robin. She was the baby of the family and adorable. Steve helped spoil her.
Steve was a Boy Scout for a short time and his mother was the den leader, but she was really not the outdoors type.
Steve was very skinny growing up. He was a very picky eater and didn’t like most of what his mother cooked (and she was a great cook). He hated anything with mayonnaise in it. His mother snuck mayonnaise into his favorite cottage cheese, trying to get him to eat it, but he knew right away. He hated casseroles or anything mixed together. He didn’t much like salads. He didn’t like salad dressing! (Who eats salad without dressing?!) He was strictly a meat and potatoes young man. (And that was true when he was an old man too. He was always picky.)
Steve went to Arlington High School, another new school at the time. He was tall and gangly; he ran track (high hurdles) and played football. He wore thick black rimmed glasses, and looked like a typical “nerd.” He even took accordion lessons at one time. One Freshman year football game, he was up against Washington High School and was mowed down by this huge teenager, George McGinnis (who later played professional basketball 11 seasons in the ABA and NBA; he was 6’8”).
Steve got to attend the Speedway 500 Mile race as a teenager and fell in love with the Greatest Spectacle in Racing. He was at the 1964 race when Eddie Sachs died in a crash, right in front of the stands he was sitting in. With his extraordinary memory for history, he became a trivia expert on anything 500 Mile Race. (At one point he took a class on the Indy 500 with Donald Davidson who was impressed with his knowledge)
One summer, just before his last semester in high school, his dad got him a summer job at Service Engraving downtown, where he met someone who would change his life forever.
Next time: Steve meets the Boss.
