My mother immediately caught on to my doubts and fears and assured me that, if things didn't work out, she and Tante Gerda would raise the money for my return. She was kind and calm, which also calmed me. Of course, I could just take the whole thing like I was going on a vacation trip. Yes, that was the solution! Nothing was ever final and most things could be undone in one way or another. Plus, I had saved some $200, which was quite a bit of money in those days. Having read so many books and magazine articles about America, I knew that this was enough money to last me at least a couple of month.... Yes, I was okay and would just look at the whole thing as an adventure from which I could always return to the safety of the "Fatherland".

  My plane was to take off from Tempelhof airport at 10 am. So at about nine o'clock I went over to a taxi stand and asked the taxi driver to come to our house and take us to the airport. This was only a 15 minute ride and we had plenty of time. Packing my baggage into the car, my mother and I got into the taxi and had a "last" look at our apartment house and neighborhood as we drove down the Mariendorfer Damm.

  At the Airport Terminal we met up with my aunt Gerda, Peter Haller and his mother and some other friends of the family. Since I had never flown before, despite working for the airport fire-department, I had the additional apprehension of how I would take the flight. Would I get sick and throw up, with everybody looking at me with disdain? Or would I feel panicky, like a caged animal?
  Too late to worry, my luggage was already checked in and after saying a last good bye to my mother, aunt and friends, I had to leave the waiting area to go onto the tarmac and walk up the stairs to the Pan Am DC-6.
Luckily I found myself directed to a window seat. Watching the engines being started up and the arising smoke coming from them, I began to actually feel calm and surrendered to my "fate". Yes, this was THE Adventure of my life and I might just as well enjoy it....

  The take-off was smooth and I watched in detached amazement as my Berlin gradually faded from sight. I really enjoyed flying. The friendly stewardesses brought us coffee or tea and some snack foods. I ate with a feeling of deep joy and sipped my coffee while smoking a Marlboro. This was the life! I already felt like a seasoned world-traveler.... And I was on my way to AMERICA!

Hamburg

  The flight to Hamburg is only a short "hop". Perhaps 50 minutes in the air, we were already told by the pilot that we were approaching Hamburg Airport. After experiencing some air-pockets and wild rocking of the plane as we descended, the plane landed smoothly. At the Airport luggage area, after having picked up my suitcase, I saw a sign that said "Lutheran Immigration Service". Checking in there, I was told that a bus would take me and a couple more people from my flight to the Turm Hotel.
  The Turm Hotel was just what the name indicated, a Turm (tower) which seemed to have been converted into a Hotel. That it was not a first rate hotel was apparent as we approached the stone building. Somehow it reminded me of a World War II bunker. But it was clean and the people working there were friendly. Being shown to my room, I found that it had no shower or even bathroom. The bathroom and shower was shared with many other rooms and one had to be "lucky" to be able to find an "opening" to take care of one's needs.
  Listening and overhearing conversations of other guests, I became aware that the whole place was almost like a refugee camp. There were lots of Hungarians, Poles and many other nationalities from all over Europe staying there and they all seemed to be going to either Canada or America.

  After settling in at the Turm Hotel, I left the building and took a bus downtown. Having visited Hamburg before, I was somewhat familiar with the city and had no trouble getting around. Finding a cheap but clean looking restaurant, I ate a dish of pasta with some kind of white sauce. It wasn't exactly good tasting, but it did fill me up, especially since I had not eaten anything besides the "snacks" on the plane. The weather was the same as it had been in Berlin, cold and drizzly. After walking around for a while, I stopped at an "Espresso Bar" and sat there smoking and sipping the strong, thick coffee. Then, after a while, I walked down to the harbor area and watched ships from all over the world being guided into the harbor by tugboats. I had always enjoyed this area and even taken a harbor cruise on a small boat once. But now it all seemed like a dream. I was detached already from Germany, Berlin and Hamburg... My mind was far away in America.

  Returning to the hotel in late afternoon, I went to my room and watched some television program on a beat up looking old set. The picture was grainy and I couldn't concentrate, so I turned it off again. Then I went downstairs to sit in the lobby and watch the endless variety of mostly east-European people. According to the Immigration Service, our plane was leaving Hamburg at nine am the next morning, April the 17th and we were admonished to be ready for pick-up by seven am. Breakfast would be served on the flight to Brussels.
  Being bored I bought a newspaper and a "Stern" magazine and went back to my room. After reading for a couple hours, I went to the bathroom and also took a shower, because I figured that the place would be extremely busy in the morning and that thus taking a shower in the morning would hardly be possible. One was lucky to find a "free" toilet.
  Falling asleep around ten pm, I awoke at a very early hour, four am, the next day. Again, doubts were plaguing me, I was excited and apprehensive at the same time. I felt so alone and vulnerable....
At seven am I was more then ready to get out of there and face my destiny, no matter what the outcome might be. Just get me out of that dingy room and that seedy hotel!

   Arriving at the hotel lobby shortly before seven, I could see a crowd of about fifty people gathered already. Joining the group I heard an Immigration Service representative announce that our bus was waiting outside and that we were to enter the bus and tell the representative our name and destination. Seated on the bus, after going through the name-check, we eventually took off for Hamburg airport.
  At the airport, we were assembled together in a special area and Immigration Service people checked our passports, visas and vaccination records. Then we were told that we would fly on a "Super constellation" owned and operated by Capitol Airways, a charter airline, to Brussels where we would pick up more people and then fly to Shannon, Ireland to refuel for the trans-Atlantic flight to Gander, New Foundland in North-Eastern Canada, to again re-fuel and then proceed to our destination in the USA, New York's Idlewild airport.

Flight On Board The Superconstellation To New York,
Meeting and Falling In Love With Julia

  After checking-in our luggage, only keeping the handbags, we were marched out onto the airfield where we, for the first time, saw our beautiful, sleek-looking "Super-constellation" waiting for us. Climbing up the portable stairway, we were greeted in English by the pilot and stewardesses. There were two rows consisting of two seats on each side of the isle. We picked our seats according to the "first come" principle and I had a great window seat behind the wings. Anxious about who would be my travel companion, I anticipated the worst. Perhaps a mother with a crying baby, or a restless, babbling child? We were to be more than 20 hours on that plane and the thought worried me very much. Then, suddenly, coming out of nowhere, I heard a young, pretty girl dressed in a grey suit (costume as it was then fashionable) asked me in broken English if the seat next to me was "free". Looking up at her, I said "Yes", it was free and she happily smiling sat down next to me. Introducing myself to her, she said her name was "Julia" and that she was with her parents, seated in the row behind us, from Hungary and that they were refugees from the Hungarian Revolution since 1956. We spoke to each other, like old friends, as she was very open, bouncy and unpretentious.... She was 18 years old and would grab my left hand during take-offs and landings as well as to make an emphatic point during our long stay together and our endless conversations. Sometimes, later on during our trans-Atlantic crossing she would innocently rest her head on my lap and sleep like a baby. Her parents, sitting right behind us, seemed to sometimes chide her in Hungarian, for being so "forward" with me, a complete stranger.... But she just laughed them off and sometimes even demonstratively kissed me on the cheek. To say that she was a "dream come true" would be an understatement.

 In Brussels we were allowed to leave the plane and visit the airport. Julia hanging on to my right arm stayed with me to the obvious consternation of her parents... What did these fools think? Did they think that I would run away with her from a secured airport? Or did they think that I would "take advantage" of her in an airport lounge? They definitely had a problem, because their suspicion bordered on paranoia. But Julia didn't care one bit and just waved to them whenever we crossed their path and they looked at us with hostility.
  At the book and newspaper kiosk I saw Hitler's "Mein Kampf" prominently displayed and couldn't believe my eyes. Having always thought that this book was outlawed everywhere, I was simply amazed to see it sitting there for sale. My first thought was to buy it while I had this chance, but after thinking for a moment I decided against it. Did I want to go through customs in New York with "Mein Kampf" in my bag? And what would the good Pastor Schumann think seeing me arrive with that book! No, as much as I was tempted to, I simply couldn't do it.
  We re-boarded the plane after about an hour and I noticed that the plane was full to capacity now. Fortunately our seats had been reserved by card-board signs and so we continued "together" like a married couple on a vacation trip. Again, my destiny had shown me that I was guided and protected!

  When we flew, quite low, over the Southern parts of Ireland, the view was breathtakingly beautiful. Never had I seen anything like it. The grass was so green and the rolling hills and fields separated by fieldstone fencing were like a vision of "Summerland". Shannon airport was nothing more than a large wooden building with a canteen which served thick black tea and various kinds of snack-food. There were rows upon rows of seats, many of them taken by American G.I's on their way to God knows where. Waiting for connecting flights, they were sitting with their duffel-bags in front of their feet sleeping. Julia and I had some hot tea and smoked cigarettes while waiting for our flight to continue. I almost wished that we would continue this flight forever, because I had truly fallen in love with her and dreaded the time of our arrival in New York and subsequent separation...

  Back on the plane and leaving this beautiful Ireland, we prepared emotionally for the long trans-Atlantic flight. Our next stop would be Gander, Canada and we had a long time to go. Julia and her parents were going to Cleveland, Ohio, but she didn't have the address to give me. I gave her the address of Pastor Schumann in Arlington, Virginia, but she never wrote to me. My suspicion is that her ever watchful parents stole my address from her and destroyed it. To me she was an angel, a God-sent messenger and protector to get me started joyfully on this significant journey into the New World, which was the "Promised Land" to me. I only hope that this young woman, this beautiful, joyful soul, had a good life in America. She was so vulnerable and open that I sometimes worry, even to this day, about her well being...

  The flight to Gander was long and arduous. After eating supper, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, we talked and talked. Sometimes in German and sometimes in English. Then we slept for a while. Actually I couldn't sleep much at all, I was much to excited and nerved up. But Julia slept like a baby, her head sometimes in my lap and other times on my shoulder. I watched the night sky hoping for a UFO or something like that. The droning of the engines was re-assuring and somewhat intoxicating... I just felt like holding and kissing this wonderful girl sleeping on my lap. I think that the flight from Shannon to Gander took about 12 hours, but I could be mistaken. Be that as it may, although getting uncomfortable in my seat and wanting to stretch out, I didn't move to keep "my" Julia asleep. Watching her breathe rhythmically, I felt like a father guarding his daughter... She looked so incredibly innocent and vulnerable.
 
  Finally, after being served breakfast and coffee, the pilot announced that we would soon land at Gander, New Foundland. Looking out the window, I noticed that indeed we had reached land and that it was all white. New Foundland was still covered with snow and ice. Julia was well rested and I felt good despite not being able to sleep at all.
  As we descended to land at Gander airport, we could see more clearly that, besides the cleared runways, everything was covered with snow. So this was Canada, I thought to myself. We had reached the American continent....
  The airport itself, looked like a replica of Shannon airport. Wooden barracks-like buildings in a forsaken looking landscape. Only that the country surrounding Shannon airport was extremely beautiful, while Gander was covered in snow and barren looking.

  Inside the terminal building were again lots of American G.I's waiting and sleeping in their seats. Julia and I, followed by her watchful parents, had some strong coffee at the "snack bar" while waiting for the plane to re-fuel. While walking around the waiting area, Julia still hooked under my right arm like a wife would in those days... And I couldn't help but feel like I was her husband. After thus wandering around for an hour or so, we heard the announcement that our flight was ready to board for New York.
  Back on the plane she again held on tightly to my hand while the plane took off.
Flying over Canada and then along the East coast of the United States, we could make out ships in the ocean and even cities and towns. The sun was shining and the weather was brilliantly clear. And through all this excitement and discovery a deep sadness began to take hold of me and her. We realized, suddenly, that soon, all too soon, we would have to go our separate ways and probably never see each other again.

Arrival at Idlewild Airport, New York City

  Our landing at Idlewild airport seemed to come out of nowhere. The pilot's announcement and our gradual descend over New York Cite was a visual delight which was only overshadowed, if not ruined, by our emerging separation. Her hand and my hand felt sweaty as we tightly held on to each other while watching the teeming city below. We knew that a new life in a new world was waiting for us, as we desperately held on to each other trying to stop the inevitable. Suddenly kissing me on the cheek, she promised that we would be together again. Kissing her back and trembling with emotion, I could only nod in agreement.

  We landed at Idlewild at about eleven am, and the turmoil of about a hundred people grabbing their belongings and pushing for the plane's exit separated Julia from me. Making my way down the stairs I looked for her desperately, but couldn't see her. At the terminal, Immigration Service people were calling out to us what to do. There was a lot of confusion and I still didn't see Julia or her parents. Waiting for our baggage to come through to be inspected by customs, I saw her suddenly at another area, way back. Having to wait for my luggage, I just couldn't leave and run after her. She was gone forever...
  Going through immigration and customs was an ordeal as the American agents were rattling off questions in English which I could hardly make out. But I managed. There were people and more people everywhere and only the shouting voices of the Lutheran Immigration people managed to keep us somewhat anchored. No, the American immigration people and customs people weren't friendly or understanding at all. Actually they were bastards who seemed to take pleasure in confusing us new arrivals to the point of desperation. Eventually coming through it all and reaching the other side of the barrier, the wonderful people of the Lutheran Immigration Service were waiting to give us further instructions. I ended up on a chartered bus to take me and many others to "Pennsylvania Station" in Manhattan. There I would have to catch a train to Washington, DC. When our "Pennsylvania Station" group left the air-conditioned terminal to walk with our luggage to the waiting bus, we realized that it was beastly hot and humid in New York. We were told that a heat-wave reaching from New England to Florida had brought temperatures close to 98 degrees to New York City and that we should be careful and not waste any energy or expose ourselves to the sun...
  Riding the bus through New York City, I realized that this city looked exactly like I had imagined it from pictures. I loved it and would have like to stay in New York, but the Lutheran Immigration Service woman on the bus told me, when we had reached our destination, that that would be impossible since I had to stay, at least for a while, with my sponsor in Arlington, Virginia.

Pennsylvania Railroad Ride To Washington, DC

  Pennsylvania Station was a beautiful edifice. What a building! I loved the architecture and the huge waiting area. The Immigration Service woman had told me which gate I had to go to and which train to take. Nevertheless, this busy station with it's constant ebb and flow of people, made this whole experience quite frightening. I could not understand what the booming loudspeakers were announcing, but I did find the correct gate, making sure by asking a railroad employee if this was the gate for Washington.
  The train was already there waiting. I had received a train ticket from the immigration service lady and thus just entered a waiting compartment. Thank God, the train wasn't crowded. Sitting down in a comfortable double seat, I again asked a passing through conductor whether this was the right train to Washington. He said: "Yes, Sir" and I was happy. After about fifteen minutes, the train took off and we left New York City. The conductor came around again and asked me for my ticket which he clipped and handed back to me. I asked him if he would please be so kind and make sure that I would get off at the Washington main station. He promised me that he would and this gave me great comfort.

  As the train moved slowly through Manhattan, I shall never forget the sights of the slum-like areas we passed through. Never in my life, in any city, had I seen such filth and squalid living conditions... And then, riding through the industrial wasteland of New Jersey, with endless seeming views of junk-yards and the stench of chemical factories, oil refineries and what have you, I felt like I had ended up in hell.

  The sights from the train became a little more pleasant as we left New Jersey and approached Washington, DC. The conductor didn't forget me and told me that the next station would be my destination.
 

Meeting Pastor Schumann and His Family

  Pastor Schumann was at the station waiting for me, a pleasant man in his early fifties, I presumed, he looked just like I had expected him to look. Dressed in suit and wearing a hat, he greeted me pleasantly and welcomed me to the United States and to my new home in Arlington, Virginia. His car was parked outside, we entered and he had classical music playing on his radio. I was pleased to hear Mozart after my long journey and told him so. He told me that there was a classical music station in Washington and that it was his favorite station. When I told him that I loved classical music, he seemed very pleased.
  A large bridge crossing the Potomac river lead us into Arlington. In those days, Arlington was a sleepy little suburb of Washington and most famous for it's National Cemetery. Driving by his church, we came to his typical modern suburban American home next door. He told me as we left the car that I would be boarding with a couple ladies from his church, the Grey's. But, he said, that he first wanted me to have supper at his home, with his wife and two daughters. As we walked in, one of the daughters was playing the piano and I supposed that it was in my honor in some way. After introducing me to his family, his wife, who had the dinner table already set up, asked us to come to the dining room and eat. Despite not having eaten much during the day, I wasn't really hungry and had to force myself in order not to leave a bad impression with them. Having finally reached my destination, I felt spacey, almost to the point of incoherence. I was nervous and yet too tired to really feel nervous. In short, I had reached my limit and was ready to drop from lack of sleep and nervous exhaustion. The good Pastor must have realized what was happening with me and soon after supper asked me if I would like to go and meet the Grey's. I was more than happy to oblige, said good bye and "thank very much" to the three ladies and left with Pastor Schumann to, hopefully, go to sleep at the Grey's.

Mama Grey and Her Daughter

  The Grey's turned out to be a mother and daughter. The older lady was probably in her early seventies and the "younger" lady, her daughter, was probably in her forties. After introducing us to each other, the older lady told me just to call her "mama Grey" and her daughter's name was Martha. Mama Grey looked like one of those tough old women from Western movies... She was thin and tough, smoking every minute of the day her "Raleigh" unfiltered cigarettes. I loved her right off the bat. She was outspoken, tough and yet radiated a certain kind of "tough-love" kindness. Her daughter, Martha, was the total opposite in all but disposition. She was much taller than her mother and much, much heavier. And she too was outspoken and un-complicated in personality. I immediately felt comfortable with those two ladies and happy that Pastor Schumann had chosen them to be my hosts. Mama Grey, looking at me and realizing how tired I was, told me to come on upstairs where she would show me my bedroom and the bathroom. We went upstairs and there was a wonderful queen size bed waiting for me.... I managed to say "good night" to them both and holler down to Pastor Schumann "Thank you", closed the door undressed and passed out to sleep uninterruptedly for more then ten hours.....

Go to Page XXIII
Arlington, Virginia, Marriott's "Hot Shoppe", Pete's Postcard

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