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Home Page
of Port Orange Images
Entrance to the POI web site.
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IN MEMORY OF EILEEN JOHNSON
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Standing Naked
... a Poet in Port Orange
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Musical videos that
poi hank likes at
You Tube in Port Orange
Florida
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Port Orange Images

A Photo-Magazine Web Site For Port Orange, Florida
and its surrounding area.
Featuring hundreds of photos
EDITOR OF PORT ORANGE IMAGES IS HANK
SPRINGER
"All life is an
experiment."
-Ralph
Waldo Emerson
Ralph Waldo Emerson Quote
To be great is to be misunderstood. LOL
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.
----------------------------------------------------- AD:

Ex-cop finds nose for news
Most wives would worry if they awoke in the middle of the night to discover the sheets rumpled and their husband's side of the bed cold. But Joan Springer knows her husband, Hank, of nearly 45 years isn't being wooed away by another woman. No, the only other woman she competes with is the flinty voice of the dispatcher coming through the scanner telling her husband where the latest disaster is so he can dash away and photograph it.
N-J | Ji-Eun Lee | BUY THIS PRINT
Sept. 18, 2006
Hank Springer has turned his hobby of photographing crime scenes into a Web site.
Daytona Beach News-Journal on Line, www.news-journalonline.com
Staff
Writer
Daytona Beach News-Journal
www.news-journalonline.com
PORT ORANGE -- Most wives would worry if they
awoke in the middle of the night to discover the sheets rumpled and their
husband's side of the bed cold.
But Joan Springer knows her husband, Hank, of nearly 45 years isn't
being wooed away by another woman. No, the only other woman she competes
with is the flinty voice of the dispatcher coming through the scanner
telling her husband where the latest disaster is so he can dash away and
photograph it.
"He is happy," she says, "telling the people of Port Orange what is
going on."
She'll stumble into the kitchen to discover a turkey sandwich, the bite
marks still fresh, resting on the kitchen table. She wraps it and returns
it to the refrigerator.
"He always comes back," she says.
Hank Springer, a 69-year-old retired Long Island police officer, runs a
Web site, Port Orange Images, where he posts photos, news items, and
engages people in political discussions from national politics to the
local shenanigans at the City Council. It's his hobby and he has been
running the site, which receives about 800 to 1,000 hits per day, since
2002.
Springer, part of the emerging niche of citizen journalism, has become
a one-man magazine replete with regular readers, ethical decisions, and a
24-hour news cycle.
"He loves information," his daughter Linda Catterall says. "He is there
before the (6 o'clock) news and if it's 3 p.m. he has it up there on the
Web site."
Springer's is a man who can prattle on just about every subject. The
Web site has become the perfect forum for his loquaciousness where family
members may roll their eyes; his readers are always ready with a retort.
"I'm addicted to it," he says. "There is no doubt about it." Sitting at
his desk the glow of the computer monitor reflecting in his glasses,
Springer sifts through e-mails on his new Outlook account his son recently
installed. It still confounds him as he opens an e-mail alert about
immigration from Lou Dobbs' Web site.
"I've had a lot of readers interested in immigration news," he says.
Then pauses. "For me a few is a lot. "
Perched on his shoulder is Magoo, a peagreen and red conure, a type of
parrot. His lone companion as he types late into the night, the bird
nuzzles into the back of his shirt collar. Besides Magoo's intermittent
squawk, the only other sound is the chirp of the police scanner.
"From listening to the police scanner," Springer says, "you can get the
pulse of the city."
Springer has been a scanner junkie ever since he was 7 years old. His
wife has never known him to be without one.
"After all these years," she says, "I still don't know what they're
saying."
As a boy, Springer revered the police officers who wore thick wool
coats with brass buttons. These men went places and glimpsed things
normally reserved for the confessional booth.
"They had a mark on them like priests," he says. "As a policeman you
look at things differently when you walk out of the house."
For 22 years Springer worked as police officer for the State Park
Police on Long Island where he patrolled the parkways trolling for
speeders. He rose to the rank of captain before retiring and moving to
Port Orange a couple years later.
It's in his new home where he caught the photojournalism bug.
Springer and his wife would take pictures of sunsets and flowers, but
he itched to photograph police and firefighters in action. Trips to the
park quickly turned into the couple hunting for crime scenes.
Springer shared his photos on his Web site and found that his police
and fire log shot up to his second most viewed page behind his home page
-- he wasn't the only one interested in the tales of the cops and robbers.
He says he finds beauty in police work and hopes his images show people
a side of the job that goes beyond the typical ticket writing.
"The policeman is never afraid, never upset, doing a job that
represents the best of society regardless of what is going on in the
world."
But what do police officers think of Springer as he trains his large
telephoto lens on them?
"They all get along with Hank and they know he is there for his Web
site," said Capt. Wayne Miller, Port Orange police spokesman. "He's been
in the business, he knows what to do and where to stand and he has always
been very cooperative with us."
On a recent evening, Springer's family gathered around the kitchen
table for hamburgers, barbecued steaks, and a variety of salads. It was a
feast his wife and daughter had prepared because the couple's son, Robert,
was visiting from New York.
"It's nice to see you at a meal," his daughter quips, "where you don't
have to fly out of here." He had recently dashed off after only taking two
bites during her birthday celebration.
But his family knows he'll never stop.
"It's in him," Joan Springer says. His daughter adding: "Even if, god
forbid, he couldn't drive anymore, I'd be driving him around."
Even Springer has trouble explaining why he has this compulsion to
listen to the crackle of the scanner.
"I know it's there," he says. "Just like people like to listen to nice
music."
seth.robbins@news-jrnl.com
http://www.news-journalonline.com/NewsJournalOnline/News/Local/newEAST02091806.htm
After Oct. 1, 2006 find this article on line in the News-Journal on
line archives.
www.news-journalonline.com
or you might find the article at
http://www.news-journalonline.com/special/snapshots/
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ADVERTISEMENT
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Our granddaughters,
Stephanie, 16 yrs.
and Andrea, 14 yrs.
Dec. 29, 2007
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Hank Springer, St. Francis Xavier Military H.S.
Manhattan, New York. 1954
Robert, John, Hank
Linda and Joan
Joan, Hank, Linda and Joe
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Obituary of Genevieve Springer at
http://www.legacy.com/houstonchronicle/LegacySub
Page2.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonId=15995783
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My guess is that this photo was taken around 1953.
The Schulden, Zega and Springer families had gathered in Commack
for a get
together.
Commack , L.I., in those days was country woods,
and the Northern State Parkway was still being built
(not yet completed) in the Commack area.
From left to right:
Front row : My mother, Jean, - brother Arthur, -cousin Loretta, -cousin
Anita,
--- me, about 15 or 16 yrs. old.,
and my dog "Bing", named after Bing Crosby
because of the big floppy ears.
Back row: Cousin Tony, ----big Nanna, Aunt Violet ---- Ja-Ju, Grandfather
Zega, -----
Mrs. Schulden, mother in law of Violet ---
and my grandmother Zega, nicknamed "blondie" at her work place.
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November 11, 2002
I am Henry Springer, a.k.a. Hank, retired from the New
York State Police.
My wife Joan and I came to live in Port Orange in 1994 to
escape the rat race, ice, snow
and high cost of living on Long Island, New
York. I still talk with a New York accent,
and by habit avoid walking on
wet pavement spots after Thanksgiving
for fear that they might be slippery with
ice. Joan and I love Florida, especially Port Orange.
Since the 1960s I have been taking photographs and enjoying
the hobby.
I had put together seven large photo and news clippings albums for
the L.I. State Parkway Police,
a project funded by that department's PBA.
In the earlier part of this year, 2002,
I walked the streets of Port Orange to
take hundreds of photos of our police and fire departments in action.
Also, in 2002, I branched out to take photos of Port Orange special
events and community activities.
I found the task to be personally
rewarding and fun. In this year 2002, as of November 1,
I have taken over
2000 images with my Sony DSC-F707 Digital , Olympus Digital D-46027 Zoom , and
Minolta, 10 power 35 mm cameras.
Two or three of them I think were
actually good,
including the one published by the Daytona News Journal, God
bless their compassionate souls.
(Update - as of Feb. 6, 2005, so many
images have been recorded on the two Sony Digital cameras which Joan and I use,
that I have lost track of the number.)
- UPDATE: Jan. 17, 2006, Hank is now using a Canon EOS DD 20 camera.
It's fun to share my hobby adventures with those who
appreciate it,
but when one is as intense and quantitative as I am, there
comes a time to think about monetary costs.
And so, I have recently seized
the company name of "Port Orange Images" before someone else claims
it,
and have secured all the proper permits from the State, County and
City.
I even got verbal authorization from Joan to "go for it".
This WEB site thing is new to me, but I hope to use it to
share my photographic fun with you.
Let me know what kind of photos of Port Orange you
would like to see on this WEB site.
Sincerely,
Henry F. Springer
e mail
poimages@cfl.rr.com
---------------------------------------------
Click to enlarge,
and then click again on icon in lower right bottom of image.
News-Journal, Feb. 22, 2005, Neighbors Section, page 3S
You won't see too many photos of Joan,
because she doesn't like her picture to be taken.
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REAL
ESTATE | April 13, 2003 New York Times
An Inviting Area, Once You Get There
By DULCIE LEIMBACH (NYT)
Attractive rents, comfortable streets and foreign tongues fill the air in
Greenpoint,
a neighborhood in the northwest corner of Brooklyn.
click on image
Jonathan Fickies for The
New York Times
St. Anthony-St. Alphonsus
Roman Catholic Church on Manhattan Avenue at Milton Street.
Comments by Hank:
Yes, that's the place, Greenpoint. I was born there and lived there 1937
to 1951.
Both sides of my parents' families were raised in Greenpoint.
Grandma lived behind St. Kostkas church.
We lived on Java street which
apparently now has a cafe. I went to St. Alphonsus school for a while.
Kent St. was one block over from us. McCarran park had a beautiful pool
which stayed open until 10PM.
Later when I was in high school I worked
some summers in the food concession in the McCarran Pool.
Newtown creek
after the second world war was where the government stored all the unused rubber
life rafts,
along with the rations intact. We called that large open lot
area leading down to the creek, The Red Fence Area.
We use to raid the
rafts and collect all the chocolate bars still safe and eatable in the emergency
rations.
The Meserole theater was on Manhattan Ave. near Meserole St.
Wow, what memories for me and many people.
There is a web site dedicated
to Greenpoint people and it is large and thriving.
http://www.greenpt.com/ Where are all you guys
now?
For photos of Greenpoint see
http://www.mindspring.com/~fdmuchow/gpsstour.htm
Tom Murphy, did you stay with the Christian Brothers.
Anthony Stoniola, the last time I saw you I had stopped you for speeding on the
Northern State Parkway.
Are you still working with Fuller Brush? (Can't be, must be retired)
Joe
Nicolas, Tom Hart.? Tom did your brother Pat stay in the seminary.
Howard Spreckles? Ann,
the Irish girl who use to hang out with me,
--- God knows why! It was a
nice town and I am glad it has retained its charm. ---- hank
- March 8, 2007
Tom Murphy from 199 Java Street is my uncle.
He left the Brothers in 1970.
Married in 1972 to a former nun, Agnes and have two children.
---- Mary
---------------------------------------------------
- excerpts from the NY
Times article follow;
-
s
the G train approaches Nassau Avenue, Greenpoint's arrival is signaled by
teenage girls switching from English to Polish as they talk. At the top of the
subway stairs at Nassau and Manhattan Avenues, Manhattan gleams in the
distance like Oz, though no one seems to notice. A florist, coffee shop, deli
and cleaners are lined up around the corner, along with a meat market and the
words "Mowimy po Polsku" — "We Speak Polish" — in many storefront windows.
- Still, said Shana Fried, who works at the United Nations and lives in
Greenpoint, "It is by far a Polish neighborhood." She was chatting with
friends in the Java and Wood Cafe on Manhattan Avenue one February afternoon.
"It's also a Latino neighborhood," she said, "with lots of Puerto Ricans and
Dominicans. And a Muslim community." Ms. Fried hails from Iowa. "It's
definitely become more gentrified" in the four years she has lived here, she
added.
- Larry Anderson, a graphic designer who has lived near St. Stanislaus
Kostka Church for five years, likes the feeling that he's in a "European
seaside town," where he can get "sauerkraut and sausage for takeout." His
rent-stabilized apartment, which he located through The Greenpoint Gazette, a
weekly newspaper, is $750 a month.
- Not many houses come on the market in the historic district, an area of
about six blocks designated in 1982 by the New York City Landmarks
Preservation Commission. It is roughly bounded by Manhattan Avenue on the
east, Franklin Street on the west, Java Street on the north and Calyer Street
to the south. Interspersed among elegant 19th-century churches, houses in
Italianate, neo-Grecian and Victorian styles abound.
- Milton Street, one of the loveliest, is an assemblage of renovated brick,
limestone and terra cotta houses and old churches, including St. John's
Lutheran, the Greenpoint Reformed Church and at the head of the street, St.
Anthony-St. Alphonsus Roman Catholic Church. On Kent Street, pristine town
houses, some dating from the 1800's, claim the Manhattan skyline as a
backdrop.
- McCarren Park is Greenpoint's crown jewel. Although an unused swimming
pool is fenced off, 36 open acres feature a jogging track, tennis, boccie and
handball courts and baseball and soccer fields — good enough to be renovated
as a training center for the 2012 Olympics, said Laz Benitez, the NYC2012
manager of communications. That includes the pool, he said.
- --- end of excerpts.
---------------------------------------------------------------
. Greenpoint, Brooklyn. 161 Java Street,
where we lived from about 1941 to
1950. When I was born, I understand that we lived with the "Rinks",
a
German family, in the house on Oakland Ave. and Kent St.
Oakland Ave. has been widened to a large thorough fare called McGuiness Hway.
The "Rinks" had a
small family business that produced potato chips.
It went out of
business when Spero potato chips came to Brooklyn with automation.
My
grandfather later worked in the Spero's potato chip factory. I still love
potato chips.
We probably moved out of the Rink's house around the start of World
War II, 1941, when I was 4 years old.
Probably moved because of some
danger living in a house that was owned by a German speaking family.
I remember that we lived on Russell Street near Driggs Ave.
for a while.
As far as I can remember, on Russell Street I had my first
real scare.
I enjoyed throwing stones at the age of 4, at passing cars on
Russell Street.
I hit the side of a panel truck with a loud bang, and this
man stopped in the middle of the street
and ran towards me yelling and cursing.
I ran into our apartment house, up the stairs yelling for Mommy,
and he ran up
closely behind me. My mother confronted him,
and my mother was chewed out
for my throwing stones. I remember being very frightened.
I remember going to the grocery store on Driggs Ave., early in
the morning, when it was dark out,
to get some rolls and the Daily News paper
for my father's breakfast. 3 pennies for a roll
and I think the news paper
was 2 cents. But if I had to order butter, milk or eggs,
the guy behind
the counter did not understand me, and he went through a patient ceremony
of guessing what I wanted, by pointing to various items. Finally, he gave
me a note for my mother,
and asked her to write out for me what she wanted me to
buy each morning.
Those were good rolls up in Brooklyn, and the Kaiser
rolls down here in Florida
don't match the rolls in NYC.
We didn't stay long on Russell Street, and moved to Java St.,
on the corner of Greenpoint Ave.
On Java St. we lived on the top, fifth
floor, with no elevator.
I use to love looking out of the window down Manhattan
Ave., and see all the way up to Greenpoint Ave.
During the war, I use to
watch formations of military airplanes fly towards LaGuardia Airport.
Many
times they flew low, and it looked liked they would not clear the steeple of St.
Anthony's Church,
(pictured above). I could see that some planes were
having trouble keeping their wings straight
and in formation. I now
suspect that the pilots were not experienced,
and the squadron amateurishly flew
low on its approach to LaGuardia, in order not to miss the landing field.
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Click on images to enlarge.
161 Java Street, Greenpoint, Bklyn
My brother took this photo around 2001?
Arthur lived here at birth and I did until the age of
13 when we moved to Hollis, Queens.
Top floor - Two windows on Manhattan Ave. side - fire escape off the
one bedroom,
and Mom and Dad
slept in the living room with the two windows,
one on Manhattan Ave. and one on Java St.
They slept on a couch that opened to a bed.
Not shown in this image are two more windows on Java street,
one for the dining room and one for the kitchen.
GREENPOINT (first page), Brooklyn
GREENPOINT (second page), Brooklyn
Little Henry. Perhaps 4 years old in this photo. 1941?
My father was known in the family as "big Henry".
My aunt Violet was "Big Nanna"
My younger aunt Frances was "Small Nanna".
Grandpa Zega was Ja-Ju.
I called my Grandma Zega, Grandma,
but Ja-Ju urged me to call her "stata baba".
I hope that merely means "old lady".
Violet was "Vyaga" or something that sounded like that in Polish.
My mother Genevieve , in Polish ,was "Gainia", or something like that.
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