I have always called the 174th St. Bridge the "Eighth Wonder of the World." It had a green patina or it was painted green, I am not sure. It spanned the Bronx River, a mighty waterway (even though it was polluted). It linked my East Bronx neighborhood with its 174th St. IRT elevated station to Parkchester, Sound View, and Castle Hill areas. Hoe Avenue, Vyse Avenue, Longfellow and Boone, the avenues of my youth, were now pathways to the entire world.

Between 1949 and 1951 I would gather my books and my brown bag lunch and cross the bridge on my way to James Monroe High School. In the cold of winter and in the sweltering heat of a Bronx summer, my schoolmates and I crossed that magnificent structure.

There was a copper plaque on that bridge that spoke of its builder, the mayor of New York City at that time and the construction firm that built this structure. I can't remember what it said but after writing this article, I have vowed to myself to return and photograph that plaque.

Memories of that bridge (in no order, other than what springs into my mind 52 years later.):

1) My friend Milty could make a U-turn on the bridge in one turn, in his 1948 Pontiac. He always prided himself on that feat. For some people that is an epiphany of a lifetime. He was actually never listed in the Guinness Book of World Records.

2) After studying at my friend Ira's house near James Monroe High School I was returning home one evening about 9 p.m., books in hand. I was waylaid by two neighborhood bullies. They took umbrage at my scholarly habits. They grabbed me on the bridge and would not let me get by to my home on Bryant Avenue. Red and Lenny, they were named, and were in some of my classes. They wrestled me to the ground, grabbed me by my heels and hung me over the side. I decided to stop struggling as I looked at the polluted Bronx River while hanging by my heels, upside down. Eventually they hoisted me up and we all never mentioned this little caprice again.

3) My good friend Melvin, who had simian tendencies, would also walk across this bridge. Only he would scamper to the top of the bridge and slink across in the manner of a trained chimpanzee. We would encourage his antics as it was reminiscent of Tarzan movies.

As is the case when one returns to the neighborhood of one's upbringing, I returned to the 174th St. Bridge only to find it smaller and less grandiose than I had imagined over the years.

In the intervening years I have been impressed by many bridges: The George Washington Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Verrazano Bridge, the Rotterdam Bridge in Holland, the venerable Brooklyn Bridge, the bridge to Coronado Peninsula in San Diego, the new Oresund Bridge linking Sweden and Denmark, the bridge to Key West with its seven-mile span, the Ben Franklin Bridge to Philadelphia and finally the Williamsburg Bridge.

However, they all pale beside my childhood bridge, the "Eighth Wonder of the World," the 174th St. Bridge.