Some were black, others were white, they were Bermudian and Portuguese. None of them was rich, but they were all close. Very close. The children played together, went to school together, grew up together. The adults bonded with each other as closely as did the children. Neighbours were in and out of each other's homes as friends; they looked out for each other's children, lent a helping hand where needed, and truly cared about each other.

Their homes were neither fancy nor mansions. Some were wooden, many had outside plumbing and bulged at the seams with large or extended families.

The neighbourhood was densely packed, but everyone was happy, very happy.

The adults could walk to Hamilton, and the children would cut through the tracks to attend Central (now Victor Scott) or Prospect schools, or play in "the jungle" at Fort Hamilton.

From a common vantage point everyone enjoyed spectacular vistas in all directions, including Dockyard, Watford Bridge, the Great Sound and Hamilton Harbour, and on Good Friday, the site was alive with kite flyers.

Passage through the grounds of the nearby British army homes (where Elizabeth Hills is today) afforded easy access to Reid Street Extension, where pleasure was taken in watching ships, such as the Queen of Bermuda, sail into port.

In fact, taking shortcuts to some destinations, while somewhat tortuous, were an accepted way of life.

"We would walk through people's yards, climb over embankments and home-made steps," Leola Davis says.

Curiously in today's world, perhaps, the late Cecil Frith conducted his undertaking business right in the heart of the residential neighbourhood, yet no-one thought it unusual to see hearses and coffins passing along the narrow street. On the contrary, Carlton Johnson was among the children who tried to sneak a look at the bodies.

Counterbalancing this in the days of segregation was the fun to be had at the Unity Patio, with its outdoor stage and dance floor. Many a lively night was spent dancing to the strains of such local legends as Al Harris and the Andrews Sisters (Bermuda ones, that is).

The original Miss Bermuda contests were held there, and way before all that, the venue was a tennis court where the likes of W.E.R. Joell and Vernon Evans played. Today, the crossed racquets motif over an apartment door, and the concrete patio, are reminders of those happy days.

Living in the neighbourhood was not a passport to free entry to the special events at the Unity Patio, however, and a little box office, the remains of which can still be seen today, ensured that due revenue was gathered. But the high surrounding wall was no deterrent to curious children's eyes - they simply gathered on the boundary wall opposite and peered across.

Mrs. Bean ran a little shop, and her husband was a Salvation Army bandmaster. Calvin Burgess, who married to Ruth Caisey, had a water trucking business, and the Repose family lived in a little cottage where Pitt and Co. is today.

There was an active lime kiln on the property, and they had a little farm which produced vegetables, turkeys, geese, chickens and eggs, cows and milk, and flowers. The neighbours were regular customers.

In the same vicinity was Stone's grocery shop. Further afield, Tumbridge's, also a grocery store, was the place to go for sneakers.

Among the families living in the neighbourhood were the Friths, Castles, Inghams, and the Caiseys, whose children included Pinky (Steede), Bill, Albert, Ruth, Gloria and Tilly.

"In those days Tilly had a shed which was a gym, and Burnell Williams, who was Mr. Bermuda and a well-known body builder, started off training in that gym," Mr. Johnson says.

There were nine children in Mr. Johnson's family.

"We were all poor, but some were even poorer," Miss Davis remembers. She was born and raised in the yellow cottage seen in the Struss photograph, of which nothing remains today. Small though the stone and wooden home was, it was shared with her mother, grandmother Melvina Johnson, and aunts, and filled with love - and a black and white television set.

"We would put the TV in the window and the poorer children in the neighbourhood would come and sit outside and look at 'Amos and Andy'. We charged them thruppence (three pence) to watch," Miss Davis says.

The girls played hop scotch and marbles, while the boys played war games in the wilds of Fort Hamilton. Cricket was played by all the children, and swimming was another communal pleasure which they happily trekked on foot to enjoy at either the Ducking Stool or Spanish Point.

Wash day was a salutary occasion, with the same tin tub in which Miss Davis' family took their baths doubling as the "washing machine." Rinso was the preferred laundry powder, blueing made the whites whiter, boiled Argo starch stiffened shirts and other garments, and everything billowed dry on lines strung up in the yards.

The Johnsons' loquat tree in full fruit was a magnet for all sticky-fingered children, while a royal poinciana offered respite from the summer sun and heat - just as it does today.

Christmas was a time of great excitement, with intense preparations taking place on December 24.

"On Christmas eve we painted, cleaned up the yard, boiled the puddings, bought new linoleum and oilcloth," Miss Davis says.

Boxing Day was also special.

"In those days we children dressed in our traditional Boxing Day outfit of bellbottom jeans, pixie boots and sweat tops, and went down to the Princess or Bermudiana hotels and hired pedal bikes to follow the gombeys. If it was your turn to do dishes that night and you got home late you got a cut tail and no supper," Miss Davis says. "Back in those days you took turns doing the dishes and emptying the slop pail."

Creosote and the insect killer Flit, which was pumped from a hand sprayer, are among the smells she remembers to this day.

If what is now Tribe Road No. 1, Happy Valley was a tightknit neighbourhood, its residents did not live exclusively. Mr. Johnson's grandmother lived on 'The Curve' (Curving Avenue) and it too was "a real community area" he recalls.

"Ruth Seaton James grew up on The Curve," Miss Davis adds. "The Happy Valley children and the Smith's Hill (now known as Augustus Hill) and Curve children all went to Central School together via Curving Avenue. In fact, Central had so many children that they had an annex on top of Smith's Hill, and what is now the Police cadet school was also part of Central."

Today, the original families have moved on, and some of their homes have also disappeared, including the house in which Miss Davis was raised. Of the wooden houses in the Struss photograph only the front one remains, and is currently occupied by Miss Davis' brother, Louis (Boppy) Davis, following an unsavoury past when characters with names like Rusty, Coconut, Pimples and Gandhi (not Burgess) squatted there.

"They were a bunch of drinking partners who weren't even from up that area. They came from all over the Island, and the men would fight and gamble. There were a lot of unpleasant memories," Miss Davis says.

Looking back, it is clear that both she and Mr. Johnson are nostalgic for the days when the integrated neighbourhood was like an extended family, and her grandmother and his mother, Ella, were best friends.

"Everybody loved everybody else in those days," they say.