“Confessions of a Prehistoric Adman” is Harvey Gabor’s account of growing up Jewish in the Bronx to his experiences as a young man in Manhattan. He talks about the challenges of living in a neighborhood that had no cul-de-sacs, no private houses dotting grassy hillsides, no lawns. Just sidewalks and streets onto which the inhabitants of the apartment houses poured every day. With a mixture of humor and pathos some stories show the tensions that existed between ethnic groups and Harvey’s private fears of confrontations and the ever-present possibility of a bloody nose. Other stories poke fun at the foibles peculiar to Jewish families. His description of his experience as a teen-aged waiter in the Catskills and brush with the local sheriff is a riot. Harvey then goes on to describe what it was like as a young, single man to move to Manhattan and the sometimes bizarre people and situations he encountered. He didn’t need a gym; he walked the city for hours from end to end observing and sometimes participating in the fascinating happenings on the subway and streets. His friends and he couldn’t wait to hit the pavement. Who needs grass when you can have the deliciously sleazy Times Square in the days before Mayor Giuliani turned it into Disneyland? Harvey later became an acclaimed advertising executive and his book includes examples and wry commentary on the ad world. The stories are in turn, funny, sad and all true.
