Tweet
As I read Alex's tale of his ancestors immigration, I was reminded of my own rather modest tale.
When I was seven, in 1951, I was informed by my father, that we were going to live in America. About six months earlier we had leased one of the early televisions. BBC was the only channel and it was only on for a few hours each day.
I would rush home from school to watch the Hopalong Cassidy serial. This program was all I knew about America. I was a little nervous about coming to such a wild place. You know, gunfights and Indians....
We came by ship, from South Hampton to New Orleans. We were in a luxurious cabin, one of two on a freighter. The freighter was necessary because my brother was only a few months old and passenger liners did not allow infants. The trip was a boys dream. I was adopted by the crew. I steered the ship, spoke on the radio, and helped paint the funnel.
We sailed up the Mississippi to the port. We spent our last night under mosquito nets. What is this place I have come to? New Orleans didn't seem to wild. Perhaps this was going to be okay, after all.
We had a Pullman car on the train from NO to Los Angeles. For those of you who know the route the train takes through Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and eastern California, you know the kind of desolation I saw through the train window. This was starting to look scary again.
We had a 30 minute rest stop in Yuma Arizona. I stepped off the train and it was 110 degrees in May. I don't think I had experience 90 degrees my whole life. The air burned my nose and my face. I thought to myself, that I wasn't going to survive this ****.
Then, on the platform, were REAL Indians. They were selling their crafts and didn't look to threatening. But, you never know...so I got back on the train.
Arriving in LA seemed to be okay. Not so hot, no Indians, and buildings and houses.
On the plus side, I got my first pair of long pants. Boys in England wore shorts until they were 14. I thought I had really gotten away with something.
Steve
When I was seven, in 1951, I was informed by my father, that we were going to live in America. About six months earlier we had leased one of the early televisions. BBC was the only channel and it was only on for a few hours each day.
I would rush home from school to watch the Hopalong Cassidy serial. This program was all I knew about America. I was a little nervous about coming to such a wild place. You know, gunfights and Indians....
We came by ship, from South Hampton to New Orleans. We were in a luxurious cabin, one of two on a freighter. The freighter was necessary because my brother was only a few months old and passenger liners did not allow infants. The trip was a boys dream. I was adopted by the crew. I steered the ship, spoke on the radio, and helped paint the funnel.
We sailed up the Mississippi to the port. We spent our last night under mosquito nets. What is this place I have come to? New Orleans didn't seem to wild. Perhaps this was going to be okay, after all.
We had a Pullman car on the train from NO to Los Angeles. For those of you who know the route the train takes through Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and eastern California, you know the kind of desolation I saw through the train window. This was starting to look scary again.
We had a 30 minute rest stop in Yuma Arizona. I stepped off the train and it was 110 degrees in May. I don't think I had experience 90 degrees my whole life. The air burned my nose and my face. I thought to myself, that I wasn't going to survive this ****.
Then, on the platform, were REAL Indians. They were selling their crafts and didn't look to threatening. But, you never know...so I got back on the train.
Arriving in LA seemed to be okay. Not so hot, no Indians, and buildings and houses.
On the plus side, I got my first pair of long pants. Boys in England wore shorts until they were 14. I thought I had really gotten away with something.
Steve
Comment