Regarding getting married, Marjorie's mother (Mrs. Ruth Holzer) took charge of the whole operation basically. Her husband, "Buck" Holzer, urged us not to just elope, which of course would have been one of our options.
Her mom had a beautiful wedding dress made. The wedding took place in the living room of the apartment at 748 Warrington Ave., Pgh, over the candy store. We chose a minister of a church just down the street on Warrington Ave. (I can't recall the denomination). The night before the wedding, Mrs. Holzer slipped me a "fiver", saying to take it and give it to the minister to get her baptized. She explained that Marjorie had never been baptized because it had been unknown prior to that what type of person she was to marry. So we went across the road, down the street to the Rev., and asked him to baptize her, giving him the $5.00.
He said "Oh, there's no charge for that, I'll just put it in the offering." He also said that the normal procedure was to put an announcement in the weekly buletain two weeks ahead of time, but "under the circumstances", he would just go ahead and perform the ceremony. So we went over to the baptismal font, and he read from a little black book written by a believer saying essentially that he was putting Marjorie into my care until such time as she would come to know the Lord. Then he sprikled her from the font, and that was it..
So the day of the wedding arrived. I believe by that time I had just purchased, under the advice of my brother-in-law-to-be, Chuck Minster, a body and fender man. It was an 11-year old beater, a 1936 Ford V-8 4-door with only mechanical brakes. I got dressed and drove over to 748 Warrington Ave. Then I looked down at my shoes, and noticed one was brown and the other was black! My sister Barbara Neill was coming in from the east on the train that morning, and I told all I was about to run down to the station to meet her. Chuck Minster would have none of it, saying that I was the essential one here that day, and said he himself would pick up my sister from the station.
My intention had been to rent an apartment once we were married, but Marjorie was fully under the control of her mother, and couldn't part with her at that point, so we were to move in with them. There had been a porch built between their building and the one next door, ove the alley; how well supported, no one knew. But Buck volunteered to convert the porch into an extra bedroom for us, and have it ready.
Now normally the Blankenburgs (my mother's family), would get together every Christmas, but this year they delayed the get-together so that we could join them. Marjorie and I were married on Christmas day 1947. The next morning we boarded a Pullman with a through ticket to Hartford. After about a day and a half, we arrived in Hartford and were met by my Uncle Charlie Blankenburg. There had been a very heavy snowfall, but all went well otherwise.
Once we returned to Pittsburgh, Marjorie did all the cooking for the whole family, and also worked for her mother in the shop she had up the road, plus did demonstrations for her with the cosmetics. I contributed some of my G.I. bill money to help with the groceries, and regularly commuted to Carnegie Tech using now my '36 Ford V-8.
Marjorie's father, Ed Minster, who also lived with us gave us a very expensive bedroom suite, solid blond maple set: bed, vanity, and two chests of drawers. The two chests of drawers have survived, but are getting rather old and in need of replacement. Marjorie's mother gave us the living room furniture that was already in the living room.
There were some rather severe fights between my mother-in-law Ruth Holzer, and her husband Buck Holzer. So it was not always such a peaceful environment. Furthermore, the physical environment left quite a bit to be desired. I once hung out a line of wash to dry in the back yard, and when I took the laundry in there was a black ine running right through all the clothes. My father-in-law said "Anybody in their right mind is going to wipe off the clothesline before hanging clothes on it!" But I didn't know that.
Marjorie was still pretty dominated by her mother. Taking all the foregoing into consideratin, I decided the best thing to do was to transfere to the Univesity of Connecticut in Storrs, CT, which I did at the end of my Sophmore year at Carnegie Tech. Marjorie was expecting our first child at that time also.
So in the summer of 1948 we moved from her folks in Pittsburgh to my folks in Vernon, Connecticut. My parents gave us what had been their upstairs bedroom when I was growing up. We still used the '36 Ford, and it held up well. We wanted to get all our furniture, so I bought an old truck (with the idea of selling it afterwards), and drove the 500 miles to Pgh, loaded up the furniture, and drove back again (I think sleeping in the truck between times). I didn't shave the whole time, and when I returned, I shaved all but my mustache; there is or was a picture of me somewhere with my temporary one and only mustache.
I did a certain amount of work on the truck and put it up for sale, advertising in the local papers for maybe $300; I had bought it for say $250. One evening in response to my advertisement, there came a knock at the door: two men, and one was a sheriff. He said the truck was his, and he had sold it to Mr. Goodchild by a conditional bill of sale, on condition that all the payments of the agreed upon price be paid. Mr. Goodchild had told him that the truck "had tipped over with a load of potatoes up in Massachusetts, and wasn't worth a nickle". Mr. Goodchild was a realtor in Manchester and had a reputation for sharp dealing.
So that night I went to bed without the truck and without the $300. Next day I went down to Manchester, found Mr. Goodchild, and told him that he should know better than that, to do what he did, and I wanted my $300 NOW, or else I was going to the Connecticut State Police. He didn't have the money on him right then, but agreed to meet me later that day with the money, which he did, and that ended that.
The advice I had gotten from those at Carnegie Tech was to spend the summer working in an office to become familiar with office procedures. But I just couldn't tolerate that. I wanted to be outdoors. So that summer, besides doing electrical wiring, I worked on tobacco for the Thralls. We also went on a few trips. We went up to Maine camping, and crossed over the line into Quebec. It was strange. On the USA side was all woods, wildereness basically. On the Canadian side it was fairly well settled. Recently my grandson Jesse Tomes, a native Canadian told me that Canada encouraged dense settling along the border to prevent the USA from grabbing any Canadian land.
The ditches along Quebec country roads were quite deep, and in just pulling over to park at one point the car fell into the ditch, and I had to get a Quebec farmer to pull it out with his tractor. One Sunday morning in Quebec I saw a strange (to me) sight. There was a buckboard wagon with about 6 or 8 men in it all dressed up in full suits, no doubt on the way to church.
On another occasion, Marjorie and I went up north and crossed Lake Champlain on the ferry, and I do have a picture of that. On still another occasion, we wanted to go out to Cape Cod, and we got as far as the dunes, and almost to the Cape Cod Canal, but then it was time to go home, as we had run out of not only time, but especially money. On another occasion we went with my parents to Providence, RI and visited my Great Aunt Louise Blankenburg, who had life-use of the home of the former governor of RI.
In the fall I transferred to the University of Connecicut and continued my studies. I had gotten restless, and had wanted to drop out for just one year, and build a house on land my parents owned on Skinner road. They gladly would give me a building lot for this, but were dead set against my temporarily dropping out of school to do this, saying I'd never go back to it again. I wasn't convinced, but finally gave in, and continued at U of Conn. I had gone so far as laying out a building lot on Skinner Road, next to Luther Skinner's place, and had bought a bag of nails to use.
So for my Junior year in college I became again a commuter, this time from Vernon to Storrs, about 17 miles of country, hilly roads, not too bad except sometimes in the winter. I was the first one who had ever transferred from Carnegie Tech to Univ. of Conn., and Prof. LaVerne Williams, my advisor told me to take a light load at first and give it all I had as it would affect the gransfer grades from Carnegie. It was sound advice.
Next time, more on my commuting, experiences on the arrival of our firstborn, etc.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Marjorie
So I met Marjorie about May 1947, and I continued to see her basically on an ever increasing frequency, yet continuing with all my Engineering studies at Carnegie Institute of Technology. It kept me quite busy. At one point she wanted us to buy a car together. I couldn't believe it! We always rode the trolly everywhere we went.
Finally some dorm space opened up for me on campus, and I moved into what had been WWII temporary student housing. I moved there during the summer. It saved time with the commute from off campus. My roommate was a Dutchman who I believe was a bit peeved at the loss by the Dutch of the Dutch East Indies, including Java and Summatra (today's Idonesia).
His other observation was that the USA was terribly rich.
When Fall came, still another, better dorm opened up for me, and I moved into an old stone building dorm named "Englebrecht Hall". The dorm room I was in was rather hugh, with lots of windows, and a bunk in each of its four corners. It was comfortable, and a big improvement over the temporary quarters.
Marjorie and I would go to a dance with a big-name big band, we'd go to movies, go for long walks, spend time in the parks, ride the inclines, etc. Once we went for a walk in Panther Hollow on the edge of the Carnegie Tech campus, and got caught in a sudden cloudburst, getting totally drenching wet. So we caught a trolly and went straight home to Marjorie's place. Her mother didn't believe us and thought we had gone swimming with our clothes on!
As time went on, Marjorie began to get rather restless, and I couldn't figure out why. Finally, one evening as I was walking her home, it just popped out from her: "Who are you going to marry?" To me it was out of the blue. I had all along figured I'd get married once I got out of college, and maybe had worked for a year. To me all that was a long way off. But I believe now she was correct in her recollection of my response: "You, I guess." This was in November. So now I was committed. And on further reflection, since we are going to get married, why wait? So that's what we did, getting married at the next available time slot to allow time to get back to Connecticut as newlyweds during Christmas vacation, 1947.
More later.
Finally some dorm space opened up for me on campus, and I moved into what had been WWII temporary student housing. I moved there during the summer. It saved time with the commute from off campus. My roommate was a Dutchman who I believe was a bit peeved at the loss by the Dutch of the Dutch East Indies, including Java and Summatra (today's Idonesia).
His other observation was that the USA was terribly rich.
When Fall came, still another, better dorm opened up for me, and I moved into an old stone building dorm named "Englebrecht Hall". The dorm room I was in was rather hugh, with lots of windows, and a bunk in each of its four corners. It was comfortable, and a big improvement over the temporary quarters.
Marjorie and I would go to a dance with a big-name big band, we'd go to movies, go for long walks, spend time in the parks, ride the inclines, etc. Once we went for a walk in Panther Hollow on the edge of the Carnegie Tech campus, and got caught in a sudden cloudburst, getting totally drenching wet. So we caught a trolly and went straight home to Marjorie's place. Her mother didn't believe us and thought we had gone swimming with our clothes on!
As time went on, Marjorie began to get rather restless, and I couldn't figure out why. Finally, one evening as I was walking her home, it just popped out from her: "Who are you going to marry?" To me it was out of the blue. I had all along figured I'd get married once I got out of college, and maybe had worked for a year. To me all that was a long way off. But I believe now she was correct in her recollection of my response: "You, I guess." This was in November. So now I was committed. And on further reflection, since we are going to get married, why wait? So that's what we did, getting married at the next available time slot to allow time to get back to Connecticut as newlyweds during Christmas vacation, 1947.
More later.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Carnegie Tech
I was able to do a reasonable amount of studying while living at McNeilly's. I made myself a study table using a 4' x 4' 1/2" plywood and four collapsable legs.
The McNeilly's were a Scotch-Irish elderly couple with some quirks. She described a taxi ride she had taken, and the need for tipping, the dialogue being thus: "Poor as I am, I'll give you a dime." "Aw, keep it lady, you need it more than I do." On another occasion she said to her husband, "For as long as you've been shaving, you ought to be able to shave in the dark. We might as well have it as Duquene Light." Mr. McNeilly once expressed concern about eating food canned in metal cans, and speculated on the possibility of metal dust. They lived at 6463 1/2 Aurelia St., East Liberty. There was a diner just down the street where I ate breakfast.
I ate lunch at the "Beanery", otherwise known as "Skibo", on campus. I commuted via trolly. On at least one or two occasions I had my laundry done at a Chinese Laundry.
While standing in line to register for all my classes, the fellow just ahead of me told me his plans: He was going to take a night watchman's job and spend that time to do all his homework. I wondered how it would work, and a year or so later, I asked him. He had a straight "A", but was always sleepy. Another fellow (then or later), told me that he lived with his wife rent-free, or nearly so. I asked how. He said that he went door-to-door near the campus looking for low-cost rent, and ran across one party with servants quarters over their garage that they were able to get. This method I took my cue from and applied it successfully in Connecticut.
I had some interesting professors. One was an elderly Gerald Patterson, originally from Tuscon, AZ, and he longed to be able to return, but felt trapped in Pittsburgh due to job and family. I took careful note of his situation, and determined it would not happen to me. One day he came and made the comment, "I got up late this morning and had time only to either eat breakfast or shave, so I flipped a coin. It said shave, so I ate breakfast." He taught EEE (Elements of Electrical Engineering". One of his comments: "I have my radio grounded to the garbage can."
One thing he taught us was the procedure for designing transformers, among other things.
Another professor was Claude Schwab, from France, who taught us Chemistry. One of his comments: "I came to Carnegie Tech IN SPITE of Pittsburgh" (which at that time was the Smokey City due to coal burning and open hearth furnaces). The air there was bad, very bad. He described a rig he had made using a play pen to keep the air clean for his little one. He was very much against hydrogenated oil for human consumption, saying it was totally unnatural, and produced by using nickel catalyst which was poisonous. Also he was dead set against Cocoa Cola, which he said was illegal in France. However, it was recommended for cleaning white sidewall tires.
Just about all my classmates were newly returned WWII servicemen like myself. One of my professors, this one in economics, was ultra left-wing. One of my classmates named VanBuzkirk was I believe probably upper class, with money. The Economics prof. insisted on calling VanBuzkirk "Buzkirk", thus there was friction between the two. Once this prof (whose name escapes me), took a poll of the class, asking "How many of you would be here anyway, without any G.I. Bill?" I had an English prof. who looked down on me after giving me a "C", indiicating that "probably that was all I was capable of doing." He was not my favorite prof.
One of my math instructors was named "V. A. Zora". He had us come up and do work at the blackboard. He always spoke in a smooth monotone. Strange. Believe he was a grad student.
Another instructor, also later for math, was from Czechoslovokia, and his accent was so bad you had to sit on the edge of your chair and concentrate just to understand his "English".
Our Chemistry instructor guaranteed us a "B" if we would do all our homework. But the homework was a "bear", and for me at least, sometimes impossible to do.
Regarding Drafting and Spacial Mechanics, the Carnegie Tech catalog said that homework for this course is NOT required. I faithfully adheered to this specification, but as a consequence, just barely passed. I note that I may have been nearly the only one NOT doing additional studying at home for this course.
A classmate, Miller, and I talked of making plans for the first summer we had off from school to travel down to Tennessee, and find totally unspoiled girls to be our wives. But we (I at least) never got that far. To handle the big influx of students, Carnegie Tech, as many other schools, ran full classes year round for the first year or two after the war.
For my part, I came up with another theory: If any girl had to take dancing lessons because she never learned to in high school, then she must be unspoiled and shy. Thus I enrolled at Griffith's Dance Studio in downtown Pittsburgh, and met several girls. One was a blond just out of high school, and she was going to attend Cornell Univ. in Ithica , NY. She wrote me about a nine page letter all in green ink. But at that time I had already met Marjorie, so wrote the other a short letter and that ended that. Marjorie was always beeing danced with by "the guy in the blue suit", but I think she liked me better.
So once I took her home, via the trolly, to 748 Warrington Ave., and down a dark alley, and up over a candy store. On the mailbox it said: Minster, Winrick, Holzer, Duckworth, Nudine. I didn't know what to make of all this, but we were very much attraced to each other. On another occasion she invited me for dinner with the family, and it helped us to get acquainted. Then I began seeing her quite regularly.
It may have been about May, 1947, and I had possibly a week off from school, and I went home. That may have been the time tha sticks in my memory. So what I'm about to describe may be the composite of more than one trip, as I made quite a few between Connecticut and Pgh while in school. Anyway, let's say this time I flew to New York, and then hitch-hiked home from there, which I did one time. Coming in for a landing during a thinderstorm, the pilot changed his mind at the last minute, gave it the gun, stood the plane on one wing in a tight bank and came around again and landed.
It was the first warm weather of early spring, and I was hitch-hiking through the night, getting finally, a ride as far as Talcotville. From there I had to walk home, about 3 miles. As I was walking along Thrall Road, it must have been getting towards dawn, and all the birds started singing beautifully. I continued home, letting myself in, and climbed up stairs and crawled into bed. Every day that week I received a 2 or 3 page perfumed letter from Marjorie.
Another time I was hitch-hiking between Connecticut and Pgh. I got a ride with a little old lady
who said she was on the way to visit her husband in an asylum (she didn't say what kind). Along the way she picked up a lot of us hitch hikers. One problem, she would notice and comment on various things along the 2-lane highway, but when she was commenting on something over to the left, the car would veer over to the left, into the other lane. Also, her passing of cars left an awful lot to be desired, especially when there was oncoming traffic. One by one, me included, we all came to the conclusion this ride wasn't worth the risk, and at various places, we all abandoned her.
Got to go. More later.
The McNeilly's were a Scotch-Irish elderly couple with some quirks. She described a taxi ride she had taken, and the need for tipping, the dialogue being thus: "Poor as I am, I'll give you a dime." "Aw, keep it lady, you need it more than I do." On another occasion she said to her husband, "For as long as you've been shaving, you ought to be able to shave in the dark. We might as well have it as Duquene Light." Mr. McNeilly once expressed concern about eating food canned in metal cans, and speculated on the possibility of metal dust. They lived at 6463 1/2 Aurelia St., East Liberty. There was a diner just down the street where I ate breakfast.
I ate lunch at the "Beanery", otherwise known as "Skibo", on campus. I commuted via trolly. On at least one or two occasions I had my laundry done at a Chinese Laundry.
While standing in line to register for all my classes, the fellow just ahead of me told me his plans: He was going to take a night watchman's job and spend that time to do all his homework. I wondered how it would work, and a year or so later, I asked him. He had a straight "A", but was always sleepy. Another fellow (then or later), told me that he lived with his wife rent-free, or nearly so. I asked how. He said that he went door-to-door near the campus looking for low-cost rent, and ran across one party with servants quarters over their garage that they were able to get. This method I took my cue from and applied it successfully in Connecticut.
I had some interesting professors. One was an elderly Gerald Patterson, originally from Tuscon, AZ, and he longed to be able to return, but felt trapped in Pittsburgh due to job and family. I took careful note of his situation, and determined it would not happen to me. One day he came and made the comment, "I got up late this morning and had time only to either eat breakfast or shave, so I flipped a coin. It said shave, so I ate breakfast." He taught EEE (Elements of Electrical Engineering". One of his comments: "I have my radio grounded to the garbage can."
One thing he taught us was the procedure for designing transformers, among other things.
Another professor was Claude Schwab, from France, who taught us Chemistry. One of his comments: "I came to Carnegie Tech IN SPITE of Pittsburgh" (which at that time was the Smokey City due to coal burning and open hearth furnaces). The air there was bad, very bad. He described a rig he had made using a play pen to keep the air clean for his little one. He was very much against hydrogenated oil for human consumption, saying it was totally unnatural, and produced by using nickel catalyst which was poisonous. Also he was dead set against Cocoa Cola, which he said was illegal in France. However, it was recommended for cleaning white sidewall tires.
Just about all my classmates were newly returned WWII servicemen like myself. One of my professors, this one in economics, was ultra left-wing. One of my classmates named VanBuzkirk was I believe probably upper class, with money. The Economics prof. insisted on calling VanBuzkirk "Buzkirk", thus there was friction between the two. Once this prof (whose name escapes me), took a poll of the class, asking "How many of you would be here anyway, without any G.I. Bill?" I had an English prof. who looked down on me after giving me a "C", indiicating that "probably that was all I was capable of doing." He was not my favorite prof.
One of my math instructors was named "V. A. Zora". He had us come up and do work at the blackboard. He always spoke in a smooth monotone. Strange. Believe he was a grad student.
Another instructor, also later for math, was from Czechoslovokia, and his accent was so bad you had to sit on the edge of your chair and concentrate just to understand his "English".
Our Chemistry instructor guaranteed us a "B" if we would do all our homework. But the homework was a "bear", and for me at least, sometimes impossible to do.
Regarding Drafting and Spacial Mechanics, the Carnegie Tech catalog said that homework for this course is NOT required. I faithfully adheered to this specification, but as a consequence, just barely passed. I note that I may have been nearly the only one NOT doing additional studying at home for this course.
A classmate, Miller, and I talked of making plans for the first summer we had off from school to travel down to Tennessee, and find totally unspoiled girls to be our wives. But we (I at least) never got that far. To handle the big influx of students, Carnegie Tech, as many other schools, ran full classes year round for the first year or two after the war.
For my part, I came up with another theory: If any girl had to take dancing lessons because she never learned to in high school, then she must be unspoiled and shy. Thus I enrolled at Griffith's Dance Studio in downtown Pittsburgh, and met several girls. One was a blond just out of high school, and she was going to attend Cornell Univ. in Ithica , NY. She wrote me about a nine page letter all in green ink. But at that time I had already met Marjorie, so wrote the other a short letter and that ended that. Marjorie was always beeing danced with by "the guy in the blue suit", but I think she liked me better.
So once I took her home, via the trolly, to 748 Warrington Ave., and down a dark alley, and up over a candy store. On the mailbox it said: Minster, Winrick, Holzer, Duckworth, Nudine. I didn't know what to make of all this, but we were very much attraced to each other. On another occasion she invited me for dinner with the family, and it helped us to get acquainted. Then I began seeing her quite regularly.
It may have been about May, 1947, and I had possibly a week off from school, and I went home. That may have been the time tha sticks in my memory. So what I'm about to describe may be the composite of more than one trip, as I made quite a few between Connecticut and Pgh while in school. Anyway, let's say this time I flew to New York, and then hitch-hiked home from there, which I did one time. Coming in for a landing during a thinderstorm, the pilot changed his mind at the last minute, gave it the gun, stood the plane on one wing in a tight bank and came around again and landed.
It was the first warm weather of early spring, and I was hitch-hiking through the night, getting finally, a ride as far as Talcotville. From there I had to walk home, about 3 miles. As I was walking along Thrall Road, it must have been getting towards dawn, and all the birds started singing beautifully. I continued home, letting myself in, and climbed up stairs and crawled into bed. Every day that week I received a 2 or 3 page perfumed letter from Marjorie.
Another time I was hitch-hiking between Connecticut and Pgh. I got a ride with a little old lady
who said she was on the way to visit her husband in an asylum (she didn't say what kind). Along the way she picked up a lot of us hitch hikers. One problem, she would notice and comment on various things along the 2-lane highway, but when she was commenting on something over to the left, the car would veer over to the left, into the other lane. Also, her passing of cars left an awful lot to be desired, especially when there was oncoming traffic. One by one, me included, we all came to the conclusion this ride wasn't worth the risk, and at various places, we all abandoned her.
Got to go. More later.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Back East Again
Flying back in 1946 was not like today. Especially in the '40's. Every year there would be crashes, especiallin in the Rocky Mountains. I got a ticket on Capitol Airlines, which later was absorbed by United. The liner was a rather beat-up plane: its cabin heaters didn't work well, and a lot of the ceiling lights didn't work. The plane took off after numerous delays, about 11 PM. In the middle of the night we stopped in Billings. In the early morning hours we stopped in Minneapolis - St Paul. Over Lake Michigan we developed engine trouble, and landed near Detroit at the River Rouge plant. Presumed repairs were made and we took off for Pittsburgh. The repairs didn't work; one engine kept backfiring, but we kept going anyway, and finally made it to Pittsburgh OK.
I had arranged ahead of time to drop in for a short visit with an old Navy buddy, Al McBride. We were in boot camp together at Great Lakes Training Center, Illinois. He had started at Carnegie Tech to major in Engineering, but later thought better of it and transferred to University of Pittsburgh; eventually he got a Law degree. His dad had a politically appointed job. I spent a day or two in Pittsburgh to check things out in general, and Carnegie Tech in particular. Then I continued my journey East by plane, heading for Hartford via New York.
I spent the month of January at home on the farm with my parents, and joined the "52-20 club", which was an arrangement whereby returning veterans not gainfully employed could collect $20 per week for a whole year if necessary. But actually I wasn't strenuously looking for work at that time. Others needed it much more than I did, but I just dipped into the gravy train anyway during that January, sorry.
Finally, when the time came, I took the train to Pittsburgh, changing trains at Grand Central Station, NYC. I travelled rather heavy, with a big stack of 78 RMP phonograph records. Oh, I forgot to mention that I even took a few phonograph records along on the USS Topeka, including "Three O'Clock in the Morning", and "Prisonero del Mar". Anyway, changing trains at Grand Central Station quickly with several very heavy suitcases was more than I could manage, so a porter charged right in and relieved me. I had to tip him, and all I had was a $2 bill. I didn't mean to give him that much, but he took it and left quickly without giving me any change.
I found a room with a family on Squirrel Hill, not far from campus, and moved in. But for some reason I felt very out of place because they were Jewish, so I kept looking, and found another family in East Liberty, just a little further out, with Mr. & Mrs. D. R. McNeilly.
More about the McNeilly's later, I have to go.
I had arranged ahead of time to drop in for a short visit with an old Navy buddy, Al McBride. We were in boot camp together at Great Lakes Training Center, Illinois. He had started at Carnegie Tech to major in Engineering, but later thought better of it and transferred to University of Pittsburgh; eventually he got a Law degree. His dad had a politically appointed job. I spent a day or two in Pittsburgh to check things out in general, and Carnegie Tech in particular. Then I continued my journey East by plane, heading for Hartford via New York.
I spent the month of January at home on the farm with my parents, and joined the "52-20 club", which was an arrangement whereby returning veterans not gainfully employed could collect $20 per week for a whole year if necessary. But actually I wasn't strenuously looking for work at that time. Others needed it much more than I did, but I just dipped into the gravy train anyway during that January, sorry.
Finally, when the time came, I took the train to Pittsburgh, changing trains at Grand Central Station, NYC. I travelled rather heavy, with a big stack of 78 RMP phonograph records. Oh, I forgot to mention that I even took a few phonograph records along on the USS Topeka, including "Three O'Clock in the Morning", and "Prisonero del Mar". Anyway, changing trains at Grand Central Station quickly with several very heavy suitcases was more than I could manage, so a porter charged right in and relieved me. I had to tip him, and all I had was a $2 bill. I didn't mean to give him that much, but he took it and left quickly without giving me any change.
I found a room with a family on Squirrel Hill, not far from campus, and moved in. But for some reason I felt very out of place because they were Jewish, so I kept looking, and found another family in East Liberty, just a little further out, with Mr. & Mrs. D. R. McNeilly.
More about the McNeilly's later, I have to go.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Horning's Farm
Each morning I would wake up to a country fiddle playing "Devil's Dream". It was the theme music of some radio program that started at 5:30AM. I had a wind-up alarm clock with a switch circuit that turned on the radio. (This was before you could buy such radios with that feaature). I can still hear that music, though I've never heard it since.
Mr. Horning originally came from Kansas where he said that occasionally it would "rain pitchforks". He was a very forceful chacter with plenty of opinions, very smart and competent. He would fly anywhere, and was in one forced landing in an airliner. He didn't know anything about federal income tax, neither did he want to know. He couldn't tolerate paying so much per hour, as he calculated it, for the priviledge of sleeping in a motel, and preferred to sleep in his truck on a long land trip. He ran his dairy farm, consisting of all pure-bred Jerseys, with the goal of making his money by selling the livestock to discerning buyers for high dollars. He once turned down an $5,000 offer for his bull. He would go long distances to buy and sell pure-bred Jerseys.
Mrs. Horning was a good homemaker, good cook, and they had two daughters, the eldist in High School, and the younger one maybe in 8th grade or so. The eldest daughter was named Patricia, and occasionally I would help her with her Latin homework. The younger one was named Priscilla. Mrs. Horning also had an elderly Uncle who lived with them. He maybe was in his 90's, and hard of hearing. He may have judged Mr. Horning somewhat harshly, regarding his farming practices. This is to be expected since Mr. Horning said that he used the milk simply to pay expenses, and his main effort was to make his money by producing very high-value pure-bred Jerseys. One day I opened the gate so Mrs. Horning's Uncle could drive his car out of the driveway (about 1/4 mile from the road). The Uncle raced the engine pretty badly, I guess because he couldn't hear the noise.
Mr. Horning had contacted the electric company for a separate meter for the barn, but they did nothing. So Mr. Horning climbed up the light pole and tapped in directly. This happened before I started there. I wondered why he left the light on in the shed all the time, until I found out that the electricity there cost him nothing. He toyed around with the idea of putting an underground cable from the shed to the barn, but nothing came of it.
George Horning and his wife got along fine, but once he showed me a very expensive microscope he kept hidden above the milkhouse, putting his finger to his mouth, indicating I shouldn't say anything to anyone (due to the objection of the cost his wife might make).
Once I came down with a terrible cold, and was sick in bed, in that little house of mine. I build a big hot fire in the wood-burning stove, wrapped myself in plenty of blankets, and "sweated it out", thus shaking it off.
Horning's had a monster cherry tree in their yard, and towards fall it was loaded. They asked me to pick cherries, with a ladder and bucket, which I did. Those cherries were dark and sweet. They were delicious! I certainly ate my fill during this chore. But then that evening, guess what we had for desert: cherry pie! I think I may have declined.
Mr. Horning had a good friend who had a light plane. He dropped in once for a visit, landing in the pasture near the house. On his first pass to land, he couldn't, because the land dropped away to fast (going downhill). So on the next pass he came in from the opposite direction, and it worked ouf fine.
Seeing Susan once every two weeks was not very often, and I became restless. I asked Mr. Horning for every week end rather than every other week end. He was rather upset, giving an inuendo about square shooting and our prior agreement. But he reluctantly agreed, and said "I'll take you to Twalatin" (so I could take the bus to Portland).
This bus business was not so satisfactory either. Hornings helped me to find a Ford Model A coupe for $300, and I bought it. I painted a little white lightening bolt on the door. It ran fairly well for quite a while, and helped me see Susan much more often, and we went a lot of places together.
After a while the car developed some transmission problem, and I located a used transmission for a replacement. I rigged up a block and tackle in the shed, pulled the rear end, and insserted the replacement transmission. This is the most extemsive car work I've ever done, but it was successful.
Sherwood was still quite a ways from Portland, so I wanted to move closer. Now that I had a car, I was able to get an appartment in Vanport. Vanport was made up of wartime quonsett huts on ground in Oregon halfway between Vancouver, WA and Portland, OR, but still much closer to Portland than Sherwood. So I moved. Mrs. Horning's comment was, "So the car we helped you get is taking you away from us." Yes it was.
I signed up for the University of Oregon / Oregon State College, Vanport Extension, and took three courses that summer, which may have been Rhetoric, Physics, and Math. In retrospect, they were exceedingly simple compared to similar courses at Carnegie Tech.
I believe it was after I completed these summer courses that I was able to get a grounds maintenance job in Vanport. The work I got was with a contractor who had a "closed shop", meaning that union membership was mandatory. So I became a member of the AF of L (American Federation of Labor), International Hod Carriers. My fellow workers were all kinds of people, the likes of whom I've never met before nor since. I would say we were way over-staffed for the work we did. One job I had was a pick-stick operator, going around the grounds with a sharp pick at the end of a long handle, and spearing cigarette buts, and other trash, and scraping it off into a bucket.
On another occasion, about a dozen of us had to dig somewhere, but there were only one or two shovels. So we formed a line and when it was one person's turn, he took the shovel. The supervison would come around occasionally on a little motor scooter. Some of thses characters I worked with didn't like him, and one called him a "Son of a bitch on wheels". Another worker, it could have been the same one, said, once in a while you have to give the b------ the shovel to let him know you're a human being! I wondered if he had been a jail bird in the past.
Susan and I went lots of places in my car. On one occasion we went up to Mt. Hood, and took the ski lift up as far as it would go. She had her girl friend along who took pictures of us, (which by the way, I kept until the very night before the wedding in Pittsburgh).
Time had a way of marching on. I wanted to get a degree in EE at a top school, not Oregon. So I arranged to take a universal entrance examination, supervised by a nearby high school principal. In filling out the forms, I put down (1) MIT, (2) California Insititue of Technology, (3) Rensaleer Institute of Technology, (4) Worcester Polytechnic Institute. But there was space for one more school. A fellow applicant was applying to Carnegie Tech, which I thought was somewhere in New Jersey, so I put that down.
Due to the hugh influx of college applicants just getting out of their WWII military service, the four above colleges were swamped, and I was turned down. But there was no reaponse from Carnegie Tech. It got to be not that long before fall term would start, yet still no word. I went back to work at Horning's, and planned to take a long bus trip to Pittsburgh. George Horning talked me into working longer, and getting a plane reservation. Still no word from Carnegie. So I sent the admissions office there a telegram: "Please wire me collect, accepted or rejected. I have plane reservation". I received a telegram from them (not collect), that said "Accepted for term beginning February 2. Letter follows"
I've often wondered if my sending that telegram caused my acceptance there.
So it got to be December 1946 and I sold my little car, worked more for George Horning, and prepared to head back East. In all the time I went with Susan I never told her that I loved her, simply because I was too bashful. I always think of the saying "Faint heart ne'er won fair maiden". I know she got fairly restless, yet we never talked of the future. I seem to recall that one time she said that her parents wanted her to ask me if my intentions were honorable. It was somewhat of a joke, because of course they were.
My own intentions were first to get an EE degree, then get married.
I remember one night the three of us went to a Youth For Christ meeting. Her girl friend was usually along. Another night we made penuchi in the bacement where she lived.
But the night finally came when I must say good-bye. But it wasn't what I was expecting at all. It seems Susan had given up on me, and had arranged a "closing of the door" type of good-bye like this: She had another fellow I'd never met or heard of there, her girl friend was there, and the four of us went someplace, I can't remember where. The implication was that her girl friend and I were pared (for whom I'd never had the slightest attraction). So that was the end of that, and it hurt terribly. In retrospect, of course, it was only too obvious what the trouble was, and I was the one to blame, not her.
So I caught a plane the next morning, and never heard from her again except one time 12 years later.
Time to quit. Next time, the plane trip on some junkey air liners with maintenance and engine problems.
Mr. Horning originally came from Kansas where he said that occasionally it would "rain pitchforks". He was a very forceful chacter with plenty of opinions, very smart and competent. He would fly anywhere, and was in one forced landing in an airliner. He didn't know anything about federal income tax, neither did he want to know. He couldn't tolerate paying so much per hour, as he calculated it, for the priviledge of sleeping in a motel, and preferred to sleep in his truck on a long land trip. He ran his dairy farm, consisting of all pure-bred Jerseys, with the goal of making his money by selling the livestock to discerning buyers for high dollars. He once turned down an $5,000 offer for his bull. He would go long distances to buy and sell pure-bred Jerseys.
Mrs. Horning was a good homemaker, good cook, and they had two daughters, the eldist in High School, and the younger one maybe in 8th grade or so. The eldest daughter was named Patricia, and occasionally I would help her with her Latin homework. The younger one was named Priscilla. Mrs. Horning also had an elderly Uncle who lived with them. He maybe was in his 90's, and hard of hearing. He may have judged Mr. Horning somewhat harshly, regarding his farming practices. This is to be expected since Mr. Horning said that he used the milk simply to pay expenses, and his main effort was to make his money by producing very high-value pure-bred Jerseys. One day I opened the gate so Mrs. Horning's Uncle could drive his car out of the driveway (about 1/4 mile from the road). The Uncle raced the engine pretty badly, I guess because he couldn't hear the noise.
Mr. Horning had contacted the electric company for a separate meter for the barn, but they did nothing. So Mr. Horning climbed up the light pole and tapped in directly. This happened before I started there. I wondered why he left the light on in the shed all the time, until I found out that the electricity there cost him nothing. He toyed around with the idea of putting an underground cable from the shed to the barn, but nothing came of it.
George Horning and his wife got along fine, but once he showed me a very expensive microscope he kept hidden above the milkhouse, putting his finger to his mouth, indicating I shouldn't say anything to anyone (due to the objection of the cost his wife might make).
Once I came down with a terrible cold, and was sick in bed, in that little house of mine. I build a big hot fire in the wood-burning stove, wrapped myself in plenty of blankets, and "sweated it out", thus shaking it off.
Horning's had a monster cherry tree in their yard, and towards fall it was loaded. They asked me to pick cherries, with a ladder and bucket, which I did. Those cherries were dark and sweet. They were delicious! I certainly ate my fill during this chore. But then that evening, guess what we had for desert: cherry pie! I think I may have declined.
Mr. Horning had a good friend who had a light plane. He dropped in once for a visit, landing in the pasture near the house. On his first pass to land, he couldn't, because the land dropped away to fast (going downhill). So on the next pass he came in from the opposite direction, and it worked ouf fine.
Seeing Susan once every two weeks was not very often, and I became restless. I asked Mr. Horning for every week end rather than every other week end. He was rather upset, giving an inuendo about square shooting and our prior agreement. But he reluctantly agreed, and said "I'll take you to Twalatin" (so I could take the bus to Portland).
This bus business was not so satisfactory either. Hornings helped me to find a Ford Model A coupe for $300, and I bought it. I painted a little white lightening bolt on the door. It ran fairly well for quite a while, and helped me see Susan much more often, and we went a lot of places together.
After a while the car developed some transmission problem, and I located a used transmission for a replacement. I rigged up a block and tackle in the shed, pulled the rear end, and insserted the replacement transmission. This is the most extemsive car work I've ever done, but it was successful.
Sherwood was still quite a ways from Portland, so I wanted to move closer. Now that I had a car, I was able to get an appartment in Vanport. Vanport was made up of wartime quonsett huts on ground in Oregon halfway between Vancouver, WA and Portland, OR, but still much closer to Portland than Sherwood. So I moved. Mrs. Horning's comment was, "So the car we helped you get is taking you away from us." Yes it was.
I signed up for the University of Oregon / Oregon State College, Vanport Extension, and took three courses that summer, which may have been Rhetoric, Physics, and Math. In retrospect, they were exceedingly simple compared to similar courses at Carnegie Tech.
I believe it was after I completed these summer courses that I was able to get a grounds maintenance job in Vanport. The work I got was with a contractor who had a "closed shop", meaning that union membership was mandatory. So I became a member of the AF of L (American Federation of Labor), International Hod Carriers. My fellow workers were all kinds of people, the likes of whom I've never met before nor since. I would say we were way over-staffed for the work we did. One job I had was a pick-stick operator, going around the grounds with a sharp pick at the end of a long handle, and spearing cigarette buts, and other trash, and scraping it off into a bucket.
On another occasion, about a dozen of us had to dig somewhere, but there were only one or two shovels. So we formed a line and when it was one person's turn, he took the shovel. The supervison would come around occasionally on a little motor scooter. Some of thses characters I worked with didn't like him, and one called him a "Son of a bitch on wheels". Another worker, it could have been the same one, said, once in a while you have to give the b------ the shovel to let him know you're a human being! I wondered if he had been a jail bird in the past.
Susan and I went lots of places in my car. On one occasion we went up to Mt. Hood, and took the ski lift up as far as it would go. She had her girl friend along who took pictures of us, (which by the way, I kept until the very night before the wedding in Pittsburgh).
Time had a way of marching on. I wanted to get a degree in EE at a top school, not Oregon. So I arranged to take a universal entrance examination, supervised by a nearby high school principal. In filling out the forms, I put down (1) MIT, (2) California Insititue of Technology, (3) Rensaleer Institute of Technology, (4) Worcester Polytechnic Institute. But there was space for one more school. A fellow applicant was applying to Carnegie Tech, which I thought was somewhere in New Jersey, so I put that down.
Due to the hugh influx of college applicants just getting out of their WWII military service, the four above colleges were swamped, and I was turned down. But there was no reaponse from Carnegie Tech. It got to be not that long before fall term would start, yet still no word. I went back to work at Horning's, and planned to take a long bus trip to Pittsburgh. George Horning talked me into working longer, and getting a plane reservation. Still no word from Carnegie. So I sent the admissions office there a telegram: "Please wire me collect, accepted or rejected. I have plane reservation". I received a telegram from them (not collect), that said "Accepted for term beginning February 2. Letter follows"
I've often wondered if my sending that telegram caused my acceptance there.
So it got to be December 1946 and I sold my little car, worked more for George Horning, and prepared to head back East. In all the time I went with Susan I never told her that I loved her, simply because I was too bashful. I always think of the saying "Faint heart ne'er won fair maiden". I know she got fairly restless, yet we never talked of the future. I seem to recall that one time she said that her parents wanted her to ask me if my intentions were honorable. It was somewhat of a joke, because of course they were.
My own intentions were first to get an EE degree, then get married.
I remember one night the three of us went to a Youth For Christ meeting. Her girl friend was usually along. Another night we made penuchi in the bacement where she lived.
But the night finally came when I must say good-bye. But it wasn't what I was expecting at all. It seems Susan had given up on me, and had arranged a "closing of the door" type of good-bye like this: She had another fellow I'd never met or heard of there, her girl friend was there, and the four of us went someplace, I can't remember where. The implication was that her girl friend and I were pared (for whom I'd never had the slightest attraction). So that was the end of that, and it hurt terribly. In retrospect, of course, it was only too obvious what the trouble was, and I was the one to blame, not her.
So I caught a plane the next morning, and never heard from her again except one time 12 years later.
Time to quit. Next time, the plane trip on some junkey air liners with maintenance and engine problems.
Monday, January 7, 2008
USS Autauga
So the 48 hours off and the 48 hours on continued until the ship was totally emptied of all ammunition. So I got a chance to see Susan a number of times every 4 days after a rather long bus trip. Meantime, plans were made by the Navy to sail the Autuga gh the Panama Canal to Brooklyn Navy Yard for de-commissioning. Again I said goodbye to Susan, not knowing when I'd ever see her again, and I was off with the USS Autuga, out from Puget Sound, and down the Pacific Coast, southbound.
Generally we stayed just within sight of land, heading down the coast. But the ship was totally empty and rode like a cork. It was the only time in my life that I got seasick, but after a while I got over it. A strange thing happened, somewhere off the coast of Oregon, I believe. The engine quit. The ship had been built by Kaiser shipyards, and had a very big diesel engine in it that got warm, and some of the crew used to rig a clothsline over it to dry their clothes. I don't know why the engine quit, but after a couple of hours wallowing in the sea, they got it going again.
On the way, I wrote my first letter to Susan that included the words. "To answer a question you may have: No, I don't have one in every port, just you." We continued south to San Francisco, putting in there, passing under the Golden Gate Bridge. I did get liberty there, and walked up to the top of Telegraph Hill. While in San Francisco we got word that the Alaska Steamship Company wanted to buy our ship. So we headed back up the coast to Puget Sound again and tied up to a pier in Seattle.
Orders were to burn all the Navy navigational charts, and throw overboard all the bottled gasses. What a waste! Then the ship would be ready to turn over to the Alaska Steamship Company. So we did. I believe at this point that I got enogh liberty to catch a bus and go down to Portland and see Susan again, which I did. I turned up at her doorstep "out of the blue" so to speak, and she was so ssurprised and glad to see me. This is where I made such a big mistake that probably changed the course of my life. This is hard to believe, but I just stood there with a big smile on my face like a dummey, instead of giving her a big hug, because I was so bashful. Anyway, she must have overlooked it for the time, and we very much enjoyed one anothers company.
Returning back up to the ship which was ready for de-commissioning,, I still didn't have enough points to get out of the Navy, and so I was returned to Personnel Receiving Station, Bremerton, Washington. While there I continued to get regular shore leave, and of course almost always used it to go down to Portland. It might have been one sunday afternoon, I really can't say, but many of us were hanging around in the bunkhouse in Bremerton, some napping. All of a sudden everything started to shape, and someone yelled out "Earthquake!" We (all but one), ran down the stairs (which was shaking back and forth as we ran down), and out into clear ground. I looked up, and the power lines and poles were shaking. I stood there waiting for the earth to open up and swallow us, but it didn't. This was my first earthquake.
I have to tell you about the one guy who didn't immediately run down the stairs. He stopped first and put his shoes on, then ran down the stairs. We asked "Why?" He related his story. His battle station on the ship he was on was directly above the fire room, and the deck there was always very hot. Once they rang GQ, he was in bed, but ran down to his battle station barefooted, and was there for 24 hours. His motto was "Never again!".
It may have been in May that I received my Honorable Discharge, plus $300 separation pay. At that point I could have elected to go home to Connecticut, but instead went back down to Portland and took a cheap room at a hotel, and looked for a job. I found one almost immediately in Sherwood, Oregon, which is near Twalatin, and a litle ways past Oregon City. It was on a dairy farm owned by George Horning.
I was determined to make a good impression on him, and I believe I succeded. Parenthetically, when I first went aboard the USS Topeka, I'm pretty sure I made a terrible impression on Mr Wilmot, before I even realize he was the one I was to report to. I encountered him shortly after I had come aboard, and wanted to ask him where something was, but couldn't describe it.
I was so happy to get a job so soon, nearby to Portland, and the whole family was very friendly. I was their hired man. I asked to have every other week end off so that I could go to town to see Susan, and Mr. Horning readily agreed. He used Surge brand milking machines, just the same as we used at home. He also wanted a lot of wiring to be done, which I happily obliged. I helpled to re-shingle the roof on the barn, and salvaged a whole lot of used bricks by chopping off adhering cement with a hatchet.
At this point I made another mistake for which I still pay, involving one of my molars. It had a very bad cavety, and Mr. Horning was kind enough to let me use his car to go into Portland to a dentist to get it taken care of. The cavety was hugh, and I thought, "Oh well, it's way in the back, I'll just have it yanked out", and that's what I did, even though the dentist was reluctant.
I ate with the family, and used their shower, but had my own little house with a "living room" I guess you'd call it, with a wood-burning stove, and a bedroom.
More later. Time to go.
Generally we stayed just within sight of land, heading down the coast. But the ship was totally empty and rode like a cork. It was the only time in my life that I got seasick, but after a while I got over it. A strange thing happened, somewhere off the coast of Oregon, I believe. The engine quit. The ship had been built by Kaiser shipyards, and had a very big diesel engine in it that got warm, and some of the crew used to rig a clothsline over it to dry their clothes. I don't know why the engine quit, but after a couple of hours wallowing in the sea, they got it going again.
On the way, I wrote my first letter to Susan that included the words. "To answer a question you may have: No, I don't have one in every port, just you." We continued south to San Francisco, putting in there, passing under the Golden Gate Bridge. I did get liberty there, and walked up to the top of Telegraph Hill. While in San Francisco we got word that the Alaska Steamship Company wanted to buy our ship. So we headed back up the coast to Puget Sound again and tied up to a pier in Seattle.
Orders were to burn all the Navy navigational charts, and throw overboard all the bottled gasses. What a waste! Then the ship would be ready to turn over to the Alaska Steamship Company. So we did. I believe at this point that I got enogh liberty to catch a bus and go down to Portland and see Susan again, which I did. I turned up at her doorstep "out of the blue" so to speak, and she was so ssurprised and glad to see me. This is where I made such a big mistake that probably changed the course of my life. This is hard to believe, but I just stood there with a big smile on my face like a dummey, instead of giving her a big hug, because I was so bashful. Anyway, she must have overlooked it for the time, and we very much enjoyed one anothers company.
Returning back up to the ship which was ready for de-commissioning,, I still didn't have enough points to get out of the Navy, and so I was returned to Personnel Receiving Station, Bremerton, Washington. While there I continued to get regular shore leave, and of course almost always used it to go down to Portland. It might have been one sunday afternoon, I really can't say, but many of us were hanging around in the bunkhouse in Bremerton, some napping. All of a sudden everything started to shape, and someone yelled out "Earthquake!" We (all but one), ran down the stairs (which was shaking back and forth as we ran down), and out into clear ground. I looked up, and the power lines and poles were shaking. I stood there waiting for the earth to open up and swallow us, but it didn't. This was my first earthquake.
I have to tell you about the one guy who didn't immediately run down the stairs. He stopped first and put his shoes on, then ran down the stairs. We asked "Why?" He related his story. His battle station on the ship he was on was directly above the fire room, and the deck there was always very hot. Once they rang GQ, he was in bed, but ran down to his battle station barefooted, and was there for 24 hours. His motto was "Never again!".
It may have been in May that I received my Honorable Discharge, plus $300 separation pay. At that point I could have elected to go home to Connecticut, but instead went back down to Portland and took a cheap room at a hotel, and looked for a job. I found one almost immediately in Sherwood, Oregon, which is near Twalatin, and a litle ways past Oregon City. It was on a dairy farm owned by George Horning.
I was determined to make a good impression on him, and I believe I succeded. Parenthetically, when I first went aboard the USS Topeka, I'm pretty sure I made a terrible impression on Mr Wilmot, before I even realize he was the one I was to report to. I encountered him shortly after I had come aboard, and wanted to ask him where something was, but couldn't describe it.
I was so happy to get a job so soon, nearby to Portland, and the whole family was very friendly. I was their hired man. I asked to have every other week end off so that I could go to town to see Susan, and Mr. Horning readily agreed. He used Surge brand milking machines, just the same as we used at home. He also wanted a lot of wiring to be done, which I happily obliged. I helpled to re-shingle the roof on the barn, and salvaged a whole lot of used bricks by chopping off adhering cement with a hatchet.
At this point I made another mistake for which I still pay, involving one of my molars. It had a very bad cavety, and Mr. Horning was kind enough to let me use his car to go into Portland to a dentist to get it taken care of. The cavety was hugh, and I thought, "Oh well, it's way in the back, I'll just have it yanked out", and that's what I did, even though the dentist was reluctant.
I ate with the family, and used their shower, but had my own little house with a "living room" I guess you'd call it, with a wood-burning stove, and a bedroom.
More later. Time to go.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Portland, OR
I came to the Pacific Northwest in October, 1945, and didn't leave until January 1947. I had a particular reason for staying so long. Her name was Susan Keys. But let me give you the whole scenario, including the biggist mistake I made with her. We tied up to the dock in Portland, the 500 Seabees got off and headed for discharge. The ship's management became very liberal with shore leaves, and it was great to be back stateside.
I had learned to roller skate while in Chicago, so one night I went roller skating. While waiting in line, I spotted her, a very pretty girl. At the same time, she spotted me. She was about seven or eight people ahead of me. But after a while that evening, I encountered her, and asked her to skate with me. That way we ititially got acquainted. She said she was temporarily living in Portland with a lady who provided room and board, but she was in Portland going to school and or getting training to work for the telephone company.
I told her that when I got out of the Navy I intended to travel around the country, and would want to look her up, so asked for her real home address, which she gave me. It was Fossil, Oregon. She was just 3 years younger than I was. I can't remember the details, but maybe it was later that same evening I got her Portland address and phone number.
So on another evening, I came to call on her. It went well for about 15 minutes, and then the lady came in and said that she had promised Susan's parents to look after her while she was in town, and that it would be best if I didn't see her, especially going out alone together. I asked if it would be OK if I stayed and we played checkers. The lady said OK, so that's what we did. I didn't care what we did; I just wanted to be with Susan. We may have had a number of "dates" like this. I saw her a good number of times in the course of the next year, and often her girl friend served as a "chaperone".
The USS Topeka was not all that long in port, so I had to say goodbye to Susan. We headed for drydock in San Pedro, CA. We got some liberty there also. I remember taking something like an interurban trolly and going to Hollywood and Vine, and attending a radio show in that viscinity. I also remember standing in line to go to a movie somewhere around San Pedro, and some old guy saying to us saylors. "Oh, I know you guys will all be coming back to California after you've been home a while in your cold climates." To myself I said "No way." It may have been December, and it was warm, the sun was shining, there was green grass around; it was late afternoon. I decided to call my dad, long distance. I talked with him and back in Connecticut it was cold, dark, and snow was on the ground.
We were in drydock, and the ship had little or no use for most of the crew. I, along with most, was given a 30 day leave. So I headed for the train station in Los Angeles, and bought a round trip ticket to Hartford, with a return via Portland, OR. Later that evening, looking out of the train window as we slowly climbed the mountain pass, I saw an older, scruffy-looking fellow walking next to a burrow that had a pick and some other gear tied to its back. A day or so later we passed through a desert in Utah, past acres and acres of "mothballed" military aircraft. We passed through Wyoming, where there was nothing in all directions. We finally got to Chicago and changed trains for New York.
In New York I got the train for Hartford, and in Hartford I got the bus for Rockville, getting off at Ogden's Corner, and walking home. Actually, I can't remember how I got from Hartford to home. Maybe my dad picked me up at the train station. Anyway, it was great to get home. My parents thought I had matured. I wanted to do some electrical wiring for them, and they did let me do some. But my main thoughts were elsewhere. After a couple of weeks, I headed for Hartford, and the train station, and after a few days arrived in Portland, Oregon. I got a room at a cheap downtown hotel, and called on Susan, who was very glad to see me. I continued to see her evenings until it was time to head back to San Pedro.
I took the sight-seeing train named "The San Juaquin Daylight", which was double-decker for the upper obserevation deck.
The USS Topeka was refitted and ready to go. This time she was headed to Shanghai, China. I didn't know how long she would be gone, but it didn't sound to great to me. I didn't have enough "points" to get a discharge yet, but I wanted to be available for it ASAP. So I didn't want to go to Shanghai. Another shipmate had enough points so he wouldn't have to go to Shanghai, but he wanted to go. So we traded places, Emmet Kendall and I, and the ship's management was kind enough to let us do it. Thus I stayed stateside, and Emmet went with the ship to Shanghai.
Now I'm unable to recall the exact situation, but I wound up with another 30 days leave or maybe delayed orders. Anyway, with very little money left, I hitch-hiked up to Portland, OR, to be with Susan again, only to find out that she had gone home to Fossil, 200 miles into the hinterlands. And I had no money.
I got a job with a contractor, and again stayed at a very cheap hotel downtown. The contractor and his family fed me in the evenings. He was excavating the dirt under a house to make a basement. I operated a horse-drawn shovel that I walked behind, holding onto its two handles. You raise the handles, he leads the horse forward, and the scoop digs in and takes a big bite of earth; then you pull down on the handles, and it slides along the surface carrying the load of dirt out from under the house. When we get to the dirt dumping area, I raise the handles way high, and it flips over, dumping the dirt. Thus I earned my money, and the contractor earned his.
Susan was not set to return unitl after I had to leave, this time for Seattle, Washington, so I didn't get to see her. At this point I may have reported to the Naval Personnel Receiveing Station in Seattle. And maybe it was during this time I took a few flying lessons on a Piper Cub fitted out as a float plane. I practiced landings and takeoffs on Lake Washington, taking off on one siide of the pontoon bridge and landing on the other side.
Shortly, I was assigned to the USS Autuga, an ammunition ship parked out near Port Townsand, WA. We ate well on that ship. The captain was a Naval Academy graduate, but was an old drunk. One night he had had too many and was singing songs to the gangway watch. There was almost nothing for an electronics technician to do on board that ship. Time was heavy on my hands. The radiomen on board wanted me to stand radio watch, but for this I had to know the morse code, and be able to type. They very gladly taught me how to type and it has stood me in good stead until the present.
After a while it got time to unload all the ammunition, and the crew was given 48 hours off and 48 hours on (for some strange reason, ha ha). I remember one time during this operation I was on gangway watch, and one of the amateur cargo boom operators had a big cargo net full of ammunition,, swung it rather hap hazardly over the side too far, lowered it, and the load went "Wham!" agains the side of the ship. I mentally held my hands over my ears. That ammunition must have been well built.
The 48 off and 48 on continued for a while, and it was a wonderful thing to me, and for the 2 days off, I took the bus down to Portland to see Susan.
Well, it's time to go now; more later.
I had learned to roller skate while in Chicago, so one night I went roller skating. While waiting in line, I spotted her, a very pretty girl. At the same time, she spotted me. She was about seven or eight people ahead of me. But after a while that evening, I encountered her, and asked her to skate with me. That way we ititially got acquainted. She said she was temporarily living in Portland with a lady who provided room and board, but she was in Portland going to school and or getting training to work for the telephone company.
I told her that when I got out of the Navy I intended to travel around the country, and would want to look her up, so asked for her real home address, which she gave me. It was Fossil, Oregon. She was just 3 years younger than I was. I can't remember the details, but maybe it was later that same evening I got her Portland address and phone number.
So on another evening, I came to call on her. It went well for about 15 minutes, and then the lady came in and said that she had promised Susan's parents to look after her while she was in town, and that it would be best if I didn't see her, especially going out alone together. I asked if it would be OK if I stayed and we played checkers. The lady said OK, so that's what we did. I didn't care what we did; I just wanted to be with Susan. We may have had a number of "dates" like this. I saw her a good number of times in the course of the next year, and often her girl friend served as a "chaperone".
The USS Topeka was not all that long in port, so I had to say goodbye to Susan. We headed for drydock in San Pedro, CA. We got some liberty there also. I remember taking something like an interurban trolly and going to Hollywood and Vine, and attending a radio show in that viscinity. I also remember standing in line to go to a movie somewhere around San Pedro, and some old guy saying to us saylors. "Oh, I know you guys will all be coming back to California after you've been home a while in your cold climates." To myself I said "No way." It may have been December, and it was warm, the sun was shining, there was green grass around; it was late afternoon. I decided to call my dad, long distance. I talked with him and back in Connecticut it was cold, dark, and snow was on the ground.
We were in drydock, and the ship had little or no use for most of the crew. I, along with most, was given a 30 day leave. So I headed for the train station in Los Angeles, and bought a round trip ticket to Hartford, with a return via Portland, OR. Later that evening, looking out of the train window as we slowly climbed the mountain pass, I saw an older, scruffy-looking fellow walking next to a burrow that had a pick and some other gear tied to its back. A day or so later we passed through a desert in Utah, past acres and acres of "mothballed" military aircraft. We passed through Wyoming, where there was nothing in all directions. We finally got to Chicago and changed trains for New York.
In New York I got the train for Hartford, and in Hartford I got the bus for Rockville, getting off at Ogden's Corner, and walking home. Actually, I can't remember how I got from Hartford to home. Maybe my dad picked me up at the train station. Anyway, it was great to get home. My parents thought I had matured. I wanted to do some electrical wiring for them, and they did let me do some. But my main thoughts were elsewhere. After a couple of weeks, I headed for Hartford, and the train station, and after a few days arrived in Portland, Oregon. I got a room at a cheap downtown hotel, and called on Susan, who was very glad to see me. I continued to see her evenings until it was time to head back to San Pedro.
I took the sight-seeing train named "The San Juaquin Daylight", which was double-decker for the upper obserevation deck.
The USS Topeka was refitted and ready to go. This time she was headed to Shanghai, China. I didn't know how long she would be gone, but it didn't sound to great to me. I didn't have enough "points" to get a discharge yet, but I wanted to be available for it ASAP. So I didn't want to go to Shanghai. Another shipmate had enough points so he wouldn't have to go to Shanghai, but he wanted to go. So we traded places, Emmet Kendall and I, and the ship's management was kind enough to let us do it. Thus I stayed stateside, and Emmet went with the ship to Shanghai.
Now I'm unable to recall the exact situation, but I wound up with another 30 days leave or maybe delayed orders. Anyway, with very little money left, I hitch-hiked up to Portland, OR, to be with Susan again, only to find out that she had gone home to Fossil, 200 miles into the hinterlands. And I had no money.
I got a job with a contractor, and again stayed at a very cheap hotel downtown. The contractor and his family fed me in the evenings. He was excavating the dirt under a house to make a basement. I operated a horse-drawn shovel that I walked behind, holding onto its two handles. You raise the handles, he leads the horse forward, and the scoop digs in and takes a big bite of earth; then you pull down on the handles, and it slides along the surface carrying the load of dirt out from under the house. When we get to the dirt dumping area, I raise the handles way high, and it flips over, dumping the dirt. Thus I earned my money, and the contractor earned his.
Susan was not set to return unitl after I had to leave, this time for Seattle, Washington, so I didn't get to see her. At this point I may have reported to the Naval Personnel Receiveing Station in Seattle. And maybe it was during this time I took a few flying lessons on a Piper Cub fitted out as a float plane. I practiced landings and takeoffs on Lake Washington, taking off on one siide of the pontoon bridge and landing on the other side.
Shortly, I was assigned to the USS Autuga, an ammunition ship parked out near Port Townsand, WA. We ate well on that ship. The captain was a Naval Academy graduate, but was an old drunk. One night he had had too many and was singing songs to the gangway watch. There was almost nothing for an electronics technician to do on board that ship. Time was heavy on my hands. The radiomen on board wanted me to stand radio watch, but for this I had to know the morse code, and be able to type. They very gladly taught me how to type and it has stood me in good stead until the present.
After a while it got time to unload all the ammunition, and the crew was given 48 hours off and 48 hours on (for some strange reason, ha ha). I remember one time during this operation I was on gangway watch, and one of the amateur cargo boom operators had a big cargo net full of ammunition,, swung it rather hap hazardly over the side too far, lowered it, and the load went "Wham!" agains the side of the ship. I mentally held my hands over my ears. That ammunition must have been well built.
The 48 off and 48 on continued for a while, and it was a wonderful thing to me, and for the 2 days off, I took the bus down to Portland to see Susan.
Well, it's time to go now; more later.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Tokyo Yokahama
One of the most memorable scenes was the wing of a B29 leaning up against the side of a building. On another occasion, I went into the half of a building that was still standing, and I may or may not have bought something, I can't remember. But the cash register they used was a US made National Cash Register.
Oh, I forgot to mention, as our ship entered Tokyo Bay, on the right, I saw a Japanese "baby flat top", one of those conversions of a cargo ship changed into an aircraft carrier. It was painted all an olive drab green, and had a list to port of about 10 degrees.
"Honey barges" would come and service all the ships in the harbor, taking off all their waste, to keep the harbor clean. I also saw a top hat floating on the water there.
To get back to events on shore: When our motor whaleboat first came up to the dock, we were next door to a US destroyer escort, tied up to a dock there. Someone aboard was playing a Japanese record rather loudly over the ship's P.A. system. Another thing of first impressions: Even before I got up to the main street, I could hear a very loud clatter of wooden shoes. It seems that all the civilians were wearing them. The automobile traffic was virtually nil. Once in a very great while we might see a car, but it was running as I was told, on fumes from charcoal.
I did get to see the moat behind which was the emperor's palace. But I didn't see anything there that was impressive. All the people I saw, and all those I met appeared universally healthy and for the most part quite friendly. I only made one mistake: as I started my walk on the sidewalk of perhaps the main street of Tokyo, from force of habit (and not thinking), I kept to the right, and started almost bumping into people. At this point, I do remember encountering one or two men of military age, who more or less "looked right through me".
I came back with a small Japanese battle flag (rising sun), some post cards showing Jap war ships, a miniature of the Empire State Building, and a very delicate and colorful rectangular glass container within which was a Japanese fisherman fishing from a pool surrounded by a rock garden, a bridge, a path and some trees. I managed to take it home, and we had it for many years (but no more).
So much for the two afternoons ashore. Eventually it was time to leave, and we went down to Okinawa and picked up 500 Seabees to bring them back to the US, as they had accumulated enough "points" to get immediate discharge. It was rather crouded with all them aboard, but still quite livable. We took the great circle route back to the US and passed within 200 miles of the Aleution Islands. I'd always wanted to get to Alaska, but the closest I've ever gotten was within 200 miles. On the way home, I checked the ship's library, and checked out a book on Alexander Botts, the World's Greatest Salesman (for the Earthworm Tractor Company, Earthworm, Illinois). It is a "screem", and I highly recommend it.
On the way home past Alaska the weather was cold, cloudy and rainy. The trip took two weeks and all on board could hardly wait 'til we got there. I stayed up the night before and waited until I picked up land on the PPI monitor hooked to the SK radar. We went up the Columbia River, and took a turn and continued up the Willammet River to Portland, Oregon, and arrived there in time for Navy Day, 1945.
The ship was open for civilian tours, and crowds came aboard. I got liberty.
To be continued.
Oh, I forgot to mention, as our ship entered Tokyo Bay, on the right, I saw a Japanese "baby flat top", one of those conversions of a cargo ship changed into an aircraft carrier. It was painted all an olive drab green, and had a list to port of about 10 degrees.
"Honey barges" would come and service all the ships in the harbor, taking off all their waste, to keep the harbor clean. I also saw a top hat floating on the water there.
To get back to events on shore: When our motor whaleboat first came up to the dock, we were next door to a US destroyer escort, tied up to a dock there. Someone aboard was playing a Japanese record rather loudly over the ship's P.A. system. Another thing of first impressions: Even before I got up to the main street, I could hear a very loud clatter of wooden shoes. It seems that all the civilians were wearing them. The automobile traffic was virtually nil. Once in a very great while we might see a car, but it was running as I was told, on fumes from charcoal.
I did get to see the moat behind which was the emperor's palace. But I didn't see anything there that was impressive. All the people I saw, and all those I met appeared universally healthy and for the most part quite friendly. I only made one mistake: as I started my walk on the sidewalk of perhaps the main street of Tokyo, from force of habit (and not thinking), I kept to the right, and started almost bumping into people. At this point, I do remember encountering one or two men of military age, who more or less "looked right through me".
I came back with a small Japanese battle flag (rising sun), some post cards showing Jap war ships, a miniature of the Empire State Building, and a very delicate and colorful rectangular glass container within which was a Japanese fisherman fishing from a pool surrounded by a rock garden, a bridge, a path and some trees. I managed to take it home, and we had it for many years (but no more).
So much for the two afternoons ashore. Eventually it was time to leave, and we went down to Okinawa and picked up 500 Seabees to bring them back to the US, as they had accumulated enough "points" to get immediate discharge. It was rather crouded with all them aboard, but still quite livable. We took the great circle route back to the US and passed within 200 miles of the Aleution Islands. I'd always wanted to get to Alaska, but the closest I've ever gotten was within 200 miles. On the way home, I checked the ship's library, and checked out a book on Alexander Botts, the World's Greatest Salesman (for the Earthworm Tractor Company, Earthworm, Illinois). It is a "screem", and I highly recommend it.
On the way home past Alaska the weather was cold, cloudy and rainy. The trip took two weeks and all on board could hardly wait 'til we got there. I stayed up the night before and waited until I picked up land on the PPI monitor hooked to the SK radar. We went up the Columbia River, and took a turn and continued up the Willammet River to Portland, Oregon, and arrived there in time for Navy Day, 1945.
The ship was open for civilian tours, and crowds came aboard. I got liberty.
To be continued.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Off Japan
One day everyone showered in preparation, and that night we made an "anti-shipping" sweep at the entrance to Tokyo Bay. We encountered no ships at all, just one submarine, who fired a green flare and made a crash dive. The green flair indicated it was one of ours. So that we didn't do this exercise for nothing, we bombarded a Japanese radar station and took it out. Then we retired at high speed eastward for the open sea.
The next morning Japanese kamakazi's were after us, and they hit a destroyer escort picket ship about 50 miles out. They also came after us, but we shot them down with anti-aircraft fire. (The pictures are in the Topeka book).
That is the only action I "saw", and I didn't even see it as I was in the radar repair shop. On another night, we passed within a few yards of a floating Jap mine. But neither did I see it.
Finally, the first atomic bomb was dropped. Tokyo Rose said that they too had the atomic bomb, but were going to use it on the 6th fleet. We didn't believe her, and were not worried about it. Then the second atomic bomb was dropped. Shortly thereafter, the emperor got on the radio and said "It may be said that a country does not have the right to commit hari-kari." And then Japan surrendered unconditionally, on condition that they keep their emperor. It was a good deal, because the emperor was then de-mystified, and de-deified. The royal family was no longer an object of worship, but became instead more like the royal family of England, a good model.
So there we were, still off the coast of Japan, still blackout at night, still running zig-zag course, just in case any Jap submarines had not gotten the word.
Then it hit: A really high powered typhoon. And we were trapped between it and the coast. So we had to ride it out, and in fact the eye of the typhoon passed right over us. We headed into the waves at an angle of about 45 degrees. If you head directly into them, you can snap the bow off, just as another ship did. If you put the ship parallel with the waves, you'll flip over very quickly. The waves were about 50 feet high, and the wind got so high it broke the annemometer. At one point we were only a few degrees from flipping over. At another dime during this ordeal, the bow went under, the screws (propellers) were in the air, and the whole ship just shook. But we made it O.K.
For myself, I was in the radar repair shop. But it only had one exit, which was a big iron hatch, dogged down and opened just a few feet from the lifeline. During the port rolls of the ship, that lifeline was underwater. I didn't feel comfortable with the situation, so I decided to make a change. Timing it carefully, I quickly undogged the hatch, stepped out, re-dogged the hatch, ran quickly to the ladder leading up to the communication deck and grabbed onto the ladder as the ship rolled back again.
I hung onto the ladder which was now more or less tilted over the water. When the ship righted momentarily on the way to rolling in the opposite direction, I quickly climbed the rest of the way up to the communicaiton deck, which is considerably above the water line. There were a number of us up there, yet we could look up and incoming waves and wonder, "How are we going to make this one?" We all had on life preservers.
It became "chow time", and we all went below decks to the chow hall, which was an unusable spectacle. All the tables and chairs were loose, and crashed first to one side of the hall, and then to the other side, as the ship rolled. It made quite a racket. However, the cooks rose to the occasion, and in the hallway leading to the chow hall, they gave us sandwiches.
The next morning, I looked over at the aircraft carrier Wasp, and the forward part of its flight deck was draped over the bow like a blanket!
Some time later, maybe the following week, it was a beautiful day, and we slowly passed a destroyer "parked" in the water while the crew was firing at a floating Jap mine, trying to hit one of its "horns" to explode it. As we went by, we just stood there watching, until we were starting to get into the line of fire, and so most of us quickly went around to the other siide of the gun turret. Good thing we did, because then there was a hugh explosion because they had succeeded in exploding the mine.
It must have been maybe almost a month after the end of the war that we entered Tokyo Bay, and had some shore liberty. We remained at anchor in the bay, and went ashore in a motor whaleboat. I wanted to get a lot of souvenirs, and so on the advice of others who already had gone ashore, I purchased abouot 20 packs of cigarettes. I managed to put 15 of them around my middle, secured by a fairly tight belt, and the other 5 were under my hat.
The operation was mainly quite a success, and I was able to get quite abit of money to buy souveniers. I had not quite expended my whole supply; I was the only US sailor in sight, and surrounded by a croud of Japanese potential customers, when, I heard from the croud a "sigh", and then I got a tap on my shoulder from behind, to be confroned with the US Navy Shore Patrol, who gave me the choice of "Come with them to headquarters, or else surrender your (contraband) cigarettes. Obviously I chose the later, and that was the end of my blackmarketing, and I continued my tour of Tokyo, occasionally buying a souvenier or two.
I had one afternoon in Tokyo and one afternoon in Yokahama, and I can't tell you what happened in which place. Both scenes were very similar. Both cities were nearly flattened; most blocks were rubble with bad smells. Yet the trolly cars ran regularly, and the people were not unfriendly.
Well, I guess I'll close for now, but I still have more to tell of what I saw there.
The next morning Japanese kamakazi's were after us, and they hit a destroyer escort picket ship about 50 miles out. They also came after us, but we shot them down with anti-aircraft fire. (The pictures are in the Topeka book).
That is the only action I "saw", and I didn't even see it as I was in the radar repair shop. On another night, we passed within a few yards of a floating Jap mine. But neither did I see it.
Finally, the first atomic bomb was dropped. Tokyo Rose said that they too had the atomic bomb, but were going to use it on the 6th fleet. We didn't believe her, and were not worried about it. Then the second atomic bomb was dropped. Shortly thereafter, the emperor got on the radio and said "It may be said that a country does not have the right to commit hari-kari." And then Japan surrendered unconditionally, on condition that they keep their emperor. It was a good deal, because the emperor was then de-mystified, and de-deified. The royal family was no longer an object of worship, but became instead more like the royal family of England, a good model.
So there we were, still off the coast of Japan, still blackout at night, still running zig-zag course, just in case any Jap submarines had not gotten the word.
Then it hit: A really high powered typhoon. And we were trapped between it and the coast. So we had to ride it out, and in fact the eye of the typhoon passed right over us. We headed into the waves at an angle of about 45 degrees. If you head directly into them, you can snap the bow off, just as another ship did. If you put the ship parallel with the waves, you'll flip over very quickly. The waves were about 50 feet high, and the wind got so high it broke the annemometer. At one point we were only a few degrees from flipping over. At another dime during this ordeal, the bow went under, the screws (propellers) were in the air, and the whole ship just shook. But we made it O.K.
For myself, I was in the radar repair shop. But it only had one exit, which was a big iron hatch, dogged down and opened just a few feet from the lifeline. During the port rolls of the ship, that lifeline was underwater. I didn't feel comfortable with the situation, so I decided to make a change. Timing it carefully, I quickly undogged the hatch, stepped out, re-dogged the hatch, ran quickly to the ladder leading up to the communication deck and grabbed onto the ladder as the ship rolled back again.
I hung onto the ladder which was now more or less tilted over the water. When the ship righted momentarily on the way to rolling in the opposite direction, I quickly climbed the rest of the way up to the communicaiton deck, which is considerably above the water line. There were a number of us up there, yet we could look up and incoming waves and wonder, "How are we going to make this one?" We all had on life preservers.
It became "chow time", and we all went below decks to the chow hall, which was an unusable spectacle. All the tables and chairs were loose, and crashed first to one side of the hall, and then to the other side, as the ship rolled. It made quite a racket. However, the cooks rose to the occasion, and in the hallway leading to the chow hall, they gave us sandwiches.
The next morning, I looked over at the aircraft carrier Wasp, and the forward part of its flight deck was draped over the bow like a blanket!
Some time later, maybe the following week, it was a beautiful day, and we slowly passed a destroyer "parked" in the water while the crew was firing at a floating Jap mine, trying to hit one of its "horns" to explode it. As we went by, we just stood there watching, until we were starting to get into the line of fire, and so most of us quickly went around to the other siide of the gun turret. Good thing we did, because then there was a hugh explosion because they had succeeded in exploding the mine.
It must have been maybe almost a month after the end of the war that we entered Tokyo Bay, and had some shore liberty. We remained at anchor in the bay, and went ashore in a motor whaleboat. I wanted to get a lot of souvenirs, and so on the advice of others who already had gone ashore, I purchased abouot 20 packs of cigarettes. I managed to put 15 of them around my middle, secured by a fairly tight belt, and the other 5 were under my hat.
The operation was mainly quite a success, and I was able to get quite abit of money to buy souveniers. I had not quite expended my whole supply; I was the only US sailor in sight, and surrounded by a croud of Japanese potential customers, when, I heard from the croud a "sigh", and then I got a tap on my shoulder from behind, to be confroned with the US Navy Shore Patrol, who gave me the choice of "Come with them to headquarters, or else surrender your (contraband) cigarettes. Obviously I chose the later, and that was the end of my blackmarketing, and I continued my tour of Tokyo, occasionally buying a souvenier or two.
I had one afternoon in Tokyo and one afternoon in Yokahama, and I can't tell you what happened in which place. Both scenes were very similar. Both cities were nearly flattened; most blocks were rubble with bad smells. Yet the trolly cars ran regularly, and the people were not unfriendly.
Well, I guess I'll close for now, but I still have more to tell of what I saw there.
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