

Beyond Bear Mountain

By Ron Bonini

Copyright Ron Bonini 2016

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: The flight to the Big Apple.

Chapter 2: Saturday morning. Look what I found!

Chapter 3: The Journey. The night before we leave, June 19, 1936.

Chapter 4: Saturday morning as we hit the road, June 20, 1936.

Chapter 5: Leaving Scranton and heading west to Cleveland.

Chapter 6: Route 66.

Chapter 7: Arizona, July 7, 1936.

Chapter 8: Let's continue reading this tomorrow.

Chapter 9: On the road to Phoenix and Los Angles, August 1, 1936.

Chapter 10: Leaving L.A. and heading for the Deep South August 9, 1936.

Chapter 11: Athens, Georgia August 20, 1936.

Chapter 12: Going home! August 27, 1936.

Chapter 13: Home again, September 3, 1936.

Chapter 14: The forties a time of change but not all for the good.

Chapter 15: World War II, we all pulled together.

Chapter 16: The gust lock that almost killed me.

Chapter 17: Returning home.

Chapter 18: Was there a slight hiccup in his well laid plan?

Chapter 19: The Sixties and Seventies.

Chapter 20: One last trip across America.

Chapter 21: Downwind, Base and Final.

Chapter 22: Back to Scottsdale after a journey to remember.

Pictorial Epilogue.

About the author

# Introduction

Beyond Bear Mountain is a story about three siblings who discover their late father's unpublished manuscript residing on his old computer. As they became intrigued with his story they decide to spend a weekend reading it together and learning more about their family history and late father's life.

They were surprised to learn he started writing this story as a freshman in high school for a midterm English assignment and completed it seventy years later. As a result they could clearly see not only a transformation in his writing but in his disposition as well. His story begins when he was an immature and somewhat naïve adolescent, and ends with him being a much wiser but a stubbornly independent old man.

He details his parent's bold adventure that inspired their family during the great depression and as a result it created some lifelong friendships. Unlike many families during the great depression who struggled just to stay alive, their family was very well to do and living comfortably. So by choice his parents decided to learn firsthand just how hard America was struggling, with the hope of imparting a deeper appreciation within their two sons for life's simple blessings and a need to help others.

He goes on to describe the changes in his life and the transformation of America as he perceived it during his lifetime. He marvels at some surprising acts of kindness and bravery that at times seemed inexplicable.

It remains unclear as to why he never tried to publish his work or even let his family know he was writing this story.

#  Chapter 1: The flight to the Big Apple.

As the wheels lift off the ground in Phoenix and I hear the landing gear slam shut, I realize this is the first time in years I have been on a plane without my wife Linda. She dropped me off at Sky Harbor at 11:00 am so I could be in New York early and rested for the next morning. I know she wanted to join me but she has some patients to see this week before retiring and handing off her practice to Dr. Diane Landis.

This trip will be a hard one for me. I'm meeting my sisters Judy and Nancy to clean out my father's house and attend the closing sale on Friday. It's also going to be hard for Linda, she is leaving the medical practice she started over 25 years ago and retiring. It will be in good hands with Diane who has been with her for the last five years. However, I know she has some concerns about retirement.

I just heard the usual odd whistle of the flaps retracting as I look out the window to see if I can spot our house in Scottsdale. I always point it out if I see it to Linda, along with other land marks I notice whenever we fly. However, I don't think it would be of any interest to the guy sitting next to me with the faded Diamondbacks cap. Well it doesn't matter, I can't even see McDowell Mountain under the wing today through the clouds.

I expect to arrive at JFK by 8:00 pm pick up the Hertz car and be at my father's house in Croton-on-Hudson by 9:00 pm. Correction, I guess it's now my sisters Judy, Nancy, my brother Rob and my house. Well ours until Friday. Rob couldn't make the trip from his home in Hawaii. He's recovering from knee surgery to repair an old war injury he received in Vietnam when his helicopter was shot down. It didn't bother him for years but age has a way of bring old wounds to the surface.

This is my second trip to New York this year. Three months ago Linda and I went back to attend my father's funeral. He was 93 and lived a good life. Up until a few years ago he would fly out to Scottsdale and spend a portion of the winter months with us. As much as I tried, I couldn't convince him to move to Arizona full time. He always told me he only liked Scottsdale in the winter time. He really wanted to stay in the old house in New York that he lived in most of his life. He also wanted to stay on the east coast closer to my sisters, which is understandable.

He was quite a character right up to 93. He lived alone in the house after my mother died for eight years. Then at 91 when his health started to fail, Aurelia a young health care worker moved in to take care of him. She's a terrific person and took care of him and the house as if it were her own. We let Aurelia stay in the house for a few months after his passing to give her time to find another job and a place to live. Fortunately she found a nice place near her mother in White Plains, New York and landed a job at a nearby hospital. We were lucky to have such an honest hard working person watch over our Dad for the last few years of his life.

I know the house is in good shape because it sold quickly when we put it on the market last month. My sisters told me the buyers are a young couple and they're glad such nice people will be the new owners. The house has been in our family since 1931. My grandfather built it with help from both my great grandfathers and the Perrone brothers' builders. Years later when my grandfather died, Mom and Dad decided to sell their house and we moved in with my grandmother. It's a big house with room for all of us and I think Grandma was really glad to have us there and watch us grow up.

It was a great place to grow up. The address is Croton-on-Hudson, but it's really Oscawana. The small hamlet of Oscawana was rolled into Croton some years ago. Only a few of us natives remember the name and we were sorry to see it disappear on the map. My aunt was the postmaster for years and shortly after she retired in the early 1970s the post office was closed, and consolidated into the larger Croton-on-Hudson post office. That was the day the small hamlet of Oscawana died.

It's a five hour flight to JFK from Sky Harbor in Phoenix but for some reason I'm not in the mood to read the Sky mall magazine or even open my laptop. I've done enough of that at the terminal. However, I can't help thinking about my dad and even though he lived over 2,500 miles away I miss him every day. I use to call him whenever the Yankees made a trade and we would argue as to which team would benefit the most from the deal.

When he would visit us in Scottsdale we would go to the Diamondbacks spring training games in March. The Yankees train in Florida so as soon as we would get home he would turn on the Yankee station and say, "now let's watch some real baseball".

I really miss all the great stories he told us when I was growing up, usually around the dinner table. Because I'm sitting in an airplane now I can't help but think about some of his flying stories. He loved to fly and he taught both my brother Rob and I, and we became pilots as well. I lost interest over time but Rob continued to fly everything from jets to helicopters. When Rob retired from the airlines he flew chartered helicopter tours over the volcanos in Hawaii. My sister Nancy wasn't interested in flying, but my sister Judy had been a flight attendant for a few years before she got married.

Dad's Army Air Force training stories were my favorites. He was in flight school in Texas during World War II in 1945. As soon as he got out of collage he enlisted in the Army Air Force with the hope of flying fighters. He went through all the required flight training and the next step would have been an assignment with a fighter group. Just before he was to get his assignment flying P-51 Mustangs, his dream plane, the war was over. The bomb was dropped and Japan surrendered. So he never got his chance. Who knows how our lives may have change if he did.

He use to tell us how tough the Army instructors were in weeding out the weak students. I think towards the end of the war the instructors could afford to be more selective so the flight training got even tougher. One of my favorite stories was how an army instructor in Amarillo, Texas took him up in an old Army trainer and taught him how to do slow rolls.

He proclaimed to Dad. "Today cadet your gonna learn how we do slow rolls the Army way."

As soon as they took off from Amarillo the instruction started rolling the airplane and he kept on rolling it all the way to Pampa airfield 50 miles away. When they landed at Pampa, Dad said his head was still spinning like a top. The instructor asked him if he thought he could roll an airplane now. With Dad's head still spinning he just nodded and muttered yes.

"Good cadet because you're rolling us back to Amarillo." The instructor ordered.

I even enjoyed the Army ground school stories. Such as the emergency procedure if your plane happen to loses power at night and you're forced to land.

The instructor's directions were, "Get the flaps down, shut the fuel off. Then turn on the landing light. If you like what you see land the airplane."

Dad asked "What if you don't like what you see?"

"Well in that case turn off the landing light." The instructor replied.

I really miss those stories. Now I'm looking out the window and I think I can see Santa Fe just under the wing, when I hear.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The flight attend ask as she hands me a napkin.

"Yes please a glass of Chardonnay, ah no, could I get rye on the rocks please?" I reply. Normally I never drink whisky, but my dad and my grandfather always had one shot of rye every evening before retiring. So I thought I would toast them both on my way to New York today with a shot of rye.

"Is Canadian Club okay sir?"

"Sure that would be great."

I think this is the first shot of whiskey I had in 20 years. I usually only drink wine or sometimes beer. It's a little early for me to drink, just after 1:00 pm, but for some reason it goes down easy.

I almost never fall asleep on an airplane. I'm usually too interested in looking out the window to see what towns or landmarks I can spot. Another reason is I have a mild case of sleep apnea and sometimes I snore. Usually when that happens Linda taps my arm and then I stay awake, but she is not here to wake me on this trip. For some reason I didn't sleep well last night, so that coupled with the rye and before I know it I dose off. When I wake up we're over Columbus Ohio. Hopefully I wasn't snoring. I am too embarrassed to ask the guy next to me with the Diamondbacks cap if I was.

Short naps usually recharge me. It's something I learned or perhaps my body learned after working as a third shift computer operator for IBM in the early 70s. So I'm sure I'll stay awake for the rest of the flight to JFK.

The captain announces our decent into JFK and the seat belt sign comes on. As a pilot I can't understand why anyone would sit in a plane without a seat belt fastened. I've learned that anything can happen in the air, so a seat belt for a few hours is a minor inconvenience. I hear the flaps go down, shortly afterwards the landing gear follows and we are on the ground at JFK.

I pick up the rental car and head north to Westchester County and on to Croton. The flight was five hours long but with the time difference it's almost 8:00 pm before I get on the road. An hour later I pull up to the old house. Nancy wanted me to stay with her and her husband John in Tarrytown, but I wanted to spend one last night in my old room. Most of the furniture was gone but Aurelia left my old bed made and I brought soap for a shower in the morning. Tomorrow is Saturday and on Tuesday my cousin Gary will be here to move the rest of the furniture. Some will go to Judy, some to Nancy, and the rest to the Salvation Army. This weekend we plan to box up any small items and decide what to do with the rest.

The house is incredibly clean considering it's been empty for over a month. Aurelia did a great job maintaining things even after Dad was gone.

I'm tired so I'll go to bed and look around the house tomorrow morning.

# Chapter 2: Saturday morning. Look what I found!

Last night I set the alarm clock for 7:00 am. Click, WLNA the local Peekskill station just came on and woke me up. It's the same radio station that was on in the house every morning for as long as I can remember growing up. Judy and Nancy said they would be here by ten so I will quickly shower and take a short ride to the Croton diner for breakfast, and a cup of coffee to go.

Returning from breakfast with coffee in hand I start surveying the house. I was so tired last night I only had time to see a little of it before I went to bed. I'm amazed at what great condition the place is at over 80 years old. Usually when a house gets this old things start to deteriorate over time, especially when the owner is in his 90s. Dad always the perfectionist and unlike some older people, he was never afraid to spend money maintaining things. The bath rooms while very much period for a 30s house with old claw feet tubs were all refinished and spotless, and the tile looks like new. The large kitchen has all top of the line stainless steel appliances and the cabinets look almost new or recently refinished. The paint throughout was very fresh and the wood floors are classic hard wood dark oak all in great shape. It's an Arts and Craft style house that was popular in the early part of the 20th century. It has golden oak wood work around the windows and doors. The outside looks really nice, the yard and trees on the property have been maintained as diligently as the house. Perhaps the only weak spot is the work shop/green house in the back. The structure looks fine but it needs a good cleaning inside.

I just heard a car door slam, it must be Judy and Nancy. It's great to see them both. I've been blessed with three great siblings. Like all kids we had our arguments but honestly very few. As adults we have never had any. When I hear of families that fight and in some cases don't speak to each other, it's just something I can't really comprehend. Life is just too short and the older I get the more apparent that statement becomes.

As we go inside I tell them how great the place looks. Judy tells me Nancy went through it and threw out some things and took Dad's old cloths to the Salvation Army, but in general the place was neat and clean. They both agreed Aurelia did a great job for Dad and kept the place as Mom would have. Nancy tells me about the new owners and what nice people they are.

"The husband works on Wall Street and the wife is a corporate attorney for I think PepsiCo." Nancy says "They are both from South Korea and have one daughter about three years old. Now with the threats from North Korea they plan to bring the husbands parents here to live with them. They love the house and there is plenty of room."

"It's any easy commute for him to Manhattan by train and not a bad ride to PepsiCo in Somers." Judy points out.

"Well where do we start?" I ask.

"Honestly there's not much to do, Gary will be here on Tuesday." Judy replies "Nancy and I have labeled all the furniture we want and Gary will deliver it to us. I spoke to Rob last night, he's feeling much better and said he really doesn't want anything. Don, I know you said you don't either but are you sure? Doesn't Linda want any of the furniture? I'm sure we could have it shipped to you."

"Ah, no thanks Judy, we're full up with furniture and we have accumulated mostly southwest furniture. So I don't think Dad's stuff would go with what we have even if we did have room. I just want to look around one last time and see if I find anything like some old baseball cards or something in the attic." I reply

As we split up and start looking through the house for any items we missed, I notice Dad's old desk top computer. It's not hard to get in to, all the pass words are taped to the bottom edge of the monitor. As I start browsing through it I check his emails. Most of them are from us kids with a few email receipts from various contractors who did work on the house. As I open his documents file I see one large file just labeled "The Journey". As I open it I realize this is a book Dad has been writing. Before I call out to Judy and Nancy I want to read a little of it to make sure that's really what it is. It's a book all right, about and extraordinary tip my Dad, Uncle Pete, their Yellow lab, and my grandparents took in 1936.

I remember Dad telling us many stories about that trip over the years. He told us how my great grandparents and their close friends thought Grandma and Grandpa were crazy to leave two good jobs and take two kids across the country during the great depression. I guess that would be a bold move anytime but especially daring back then in the middle of the great depression. After reading a few pages I call out. "Look what I found!"

Both Judy and Nancy come running. What is it they ask?

"Did either of you know Dad wrote a book?" I ask.

They both shook their heads and indicate they had no idea.

"It's on his computer?" Nancy ask, "Is it finished?"

"Not sure it looks finished. It's about the trip they took in 1936."

"Now that I think about it I remember him telling me when he was a freshman in high school he started a book about that trip." Judy said, "I think he said that every few years he would add to it."

"Well just from the little I read it looks like he started it in high school." I said, "When I look at the chapters towards the end it seems like his writing has changed. It seems more mature."

"Really!" said Judy "Lets read it."

"Okay why not." I said "Nancy why don't you start and let's see how far we get. We don't have much to do here."

"Okay I'll start."

With Nancy at Dad's old computer and Judy and I sitting on the old maroon leather couch in his office. The three of us started our family journey back some 80 years ago. A historic journey that changed our family then and helped set a foundation for the kind of people we became many years later.

The story begins!

# Chapter 3: The Journey. The night before we leave, June 19, 1936.

"Pete, the Yanks beat the Tigers today 5-2. DiMaggio went 2 for 5, he's batting .356. " I said to my brother Pete as we got ready for bed and our big day tomorrow.

"Who pitched Gomez? What did Gehrig do?" Pete asked as he continued to pack some clothes for tomorrow.

"Yea Gomez. Gehrig went 3 for 5 he's batting .395 now. Do you think he'll hit .400 this year?"

"Na he's getting too old but he should have another good year. Did they play in Detroit?"

"Yes the Schmeling-Louis fight is tonight at Yankee Stadium."

"That's right!" Pete exclaimed. "I forgot all about that. Louis will knock him out in 3 or 4 rounds."1

Pete and I are brothers and we are the same age for a few weeks every year. Pete is eleven months and three days older than I am. We're in the same grade in school. Pete is usually the oldest in our class and I'm always the youngest. I just made it by a few days and Pete just missed the next grade by a couple of weeks. Some people would call us Irish twins, even though we aren't Irish or twins. It was just an odd expression used when describing brothers less than a year apart in age. I guess this was a more common occurrence in Ireland. I was never that interested in investigating its origin.

We're both big baseball fans and huge Yankees fans. Pete's favorite player is Lou Gehrig. My favorite use to be Babe Ruth, but since he retired I really like this rookie from California, Joe DiMaggio. I guess partly because he's Italian, and we're half Italian. My mother was born in Italy in a small mountain town in Tuscany. My dad's family is English and as I understand it, his family can be traced back to the Mayflower in 1620.

Tonight Pete and I are both feeling a little tense about tomorrow. We're going on a family journey across America. To make things even more unusual we're going to be living in a truck and a trailer.

Last year my dad bought a truck and a trailer from the Marque Circus. A circus that started in Somers, NY but went bankrupt before it ever got off the ground. They sold off all their assets for pennies on the dollar. The truck was a new 1936 Dodge without a rear bed. The Marque planned to add a custom bed to house some of the circus staff but they folded before the project got off the ground. The trailer was well used and came from another circus. At one time it was the home of two brothers who had a dare devil type motorcycle act. They would ride their cycles inside a large wooden barrel. As a result the trailer was in rough shape and smelled like a stale mixture of old leather, perspiration and Pennzoil.

After Dad bought the truck and the trailer from the Marque, he came up with some design plans to add a new rear bed to the truck, which would be the new home for him and Mom while on the road. He also totally redesigned the trailer, took it down to the frame and created a new custom home for Pete and me. This was a rather extensive project because both plans required a lot of custom wood work.

There was one benefit to living in the great depression during the 1930s. You could get highly skilled craftsmen to perform their trade at a very reasonable price, and they were glad to get the work. Two such craftsmen were the Perrone brothers from Ossining, New York. Bobby and Frank were boat builders until the great depression. They made high end wood fishing boats that were used by commercial fishermen on the Hudson River and Long Island sound. When sales completely dried up by 1931 they were doing any kind of wood work they could get. One of their first projects that year was helping Dad and Grandpa build our new house. It was their first home construction project but they really seemed to take to the Craftsman Style design called for in our plans. The house was designed by a close friend of Dad's, David Hunt from Manhattan. David was trained by and worked for Frank Lloyd Wright. His designs however were a little more traditional so the roofs usually didn't leak, which was a common complaint in Wright designs at the time. His plans called for the highest quality construction and materials available at the time. This was something the Perrone brothers understood, quality and craftsmanship, so they took real pride in doing a great job. As a result our house shows off their high end wood working skills as soon as you walk through the front door.

Now Dad was calling on them again. This time the project was more in their bailiwick. The truck and trailer project would be unique for sure, but the designs were rather complex. It was like building the haul of a boat upside down and attaching it to a truck bed and a second one to a trailer frame. The concept was unusual but it was something they could comprehend easier than most craftsman. They needed to build a structure that was light, strong, weather resistant, yet flexible enough to give with the unpaved roads we would encounter on our land voyage. As boat builders the Perrones understood how to use wood for sturdy construction, and with some flexibility. They were the perfect guys for the job.

When it came to material things my dad had two rules, build or buy things of the highest quality available that you can afford. Always care for and maintain whatever you own, or throw it out. If something is not worth maintaining it's not worth owning.

Both Bobby and Frank Perrone understood how my dad felt about quality workmanship, it was something that came natural to them. Sometimes they would have customers that wanted them to cut corners to save money, but this went against their grain. Dad was not one of those customers and he expected high quality and was prepared to pay the premium.

The existing wood housing on the old trailer was junk in his view. It was just a wood box on a steel frame. Perhaps good enough for two motorcycle stuntman and their paraphernalia, but not a place to live. Flat plywood and tarpaper was not quality and not worth maintaining. The trailer frame on the other hand was good solid steel on a strong set of axles with good suspension and brakes.

By 8:00 pm I was done with my packing for tomorrow and Pete was almost finished.

When Pete said. "John do you feel a little funny about tomorrow?"

"Yea I guess I do Pete."

I was a little taken back, because between the two of us Pete was always the more adventurous. He was almost never afraid of anything and now for some reason I think he was having second thoughts about tomorrow. Well he wasn't alone, I know both Grandma and Grandpa felt the same way. Last week I overheard a conversation between Mom and Dad and my paternal grandparents that I never shared with Pete.

My dad's mom and Dad have been living with us for about three years. Grandpa was a mason by trade and had his own business. He did stone, stucco, and foundations for new homes. By 1931 the housing market came to a screeching halt and his business completely dried up. His last real job was laying the foundation and doing some stone work on our house. Shortly afterwards he was out of business and at 58 years old it was impossible for him to find work. So he sold his house and he and grandma moved in with us. We have plenty room and it's good to have them here. When we leave tomorrow Grandma and Grandpa will have the house to their selves for a year. Well sort of. We have a shop/greenhouse in the back where Grandpa's friend George Gray lives.

George maintains the grounds and does handy man work for Dad and some other neighbors. He use to work for Grandpa, and Grandpa always said when he showed up he did a great job. However, George has a real problem, he's an alcoholic. He's fine one day then the next day something happens and he's gone for days on a drunk. I once ask Grandpa if he knew why George drink the way he does? He said George once told him he needs to drink so he can stop hearing the voices in his head. He's a nice man and everyone in the family especially Doro our Yellow lab really likes him. He's very quiet and very polite, especially with Mom and Grandma. Mom told me George was once an art student and had to drop out of collage because of his drinking. His sister is a well-known author who lives in Manhattan, her name is Mildred Gray. Occasionally she comes up from the city to visit with George in the shop. It's a little odd to see this well dressed woman from Manhattan, who takes a train from Grand Central Station, then a cab from Oscawana Station to visit with her brother in the little shop in back of our house.

Just then I decided I should tell Pete about the conversation I heard last week between our parents and grandparents. I didn't want to at first because I felt bad about ease dropping, and I wasn't sure what Pete might say. But now I thought I needed to tell him and get this off my chest.

"Pete, you have to promise me you won't say anything to anyone about what I'm going to tell you." I said.

"Yea, yea no problem. What is it?" He replied as he finished packing his last shirt.

"Last week I heard Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa talking about the trip. Grandpa was really upset with dad. He told him he was crazy for leaving his job and taking us on this trip. He told Dad he can't believe he was actually going through with such a crazy idea. He asked if Dad realizes that both he and Grandma will not see their grandchildren for a whole year, and asked if he understands the possible danger he is putting his family through. Then he told Mom he can't believe she is going along with this hair brained idea."

"Wow! What did Dad say?" Pete asked.

"Well Dad was as cool and calm as always. He said he has given this a lot of thought and this will be the only chance we have to do something like this. He told Grandpa he's not really leaving his job, he's going on a sabbatical and will be looking at some companies for his firm to invest in across the US. Then he said that we're 13 and 14 now and will be going into high school soon. He told Grandpa you know what happens to kids when they get into high school. The last people they want to be with is their parents. He told him that we are now at the only age where we can appreciate a trip like this and not be embarrassed to be with their parents. A year or two ago we probably wouldn't appreciate the educational value of a trip like this. It would just be a drag, like a boring trip to a museum. In a year or two from now there is no way we would want to leave school for a year and do something like this. He reminded him that Mom is a teacher and she has all our ninth grade books, so we will be home schooled for a year."

"Actually road schooled." Pete interrupted with a smirk.

"Yea," I said. "Then Dad said we are both really good in school and will be more than ready for tenth grade when we return. This trip will be the best year of education and experience we could have.

Then Grandma ask Mom, what do Nonna and Nonno think about this? Mom told her they came here from Italy so they are more accustom to this type of thing. She reminded her that Nonno lived alone in America for three years before he had enough money to send for the rest of the family from Italy."

"Then what happened John?" Pete wanted to know.

"Well I think Grandma started to cry, then I went back upstairs."

"Wow I didn't know any of this."

"Pete are you a little scared?" I asked.

"Ah, Nah. Dad knows what he's doing. Remember a few months ago he told us if things didn't work out we could always come home."

"Yea I remember," I replied. "I hope they do, it sounds like fun, but I am going to miss our friends and Grandma, Grandpa, Nonno and Nonna."

"Yea me too, but as Dad said it's only for a year and it'll go by before we know it."

My dad was the Senior Vice President and Chief Investment Officer for the Wall Street investment firm Davis Brown Financial Services. He was one of the youngest people on Wall Street ever to be appointed to the position of Chief Investment Officer. In August of 1929 with the Dow Jones Industrial average trading at $358. Dad felt very strongly that the stock market was overpriced and going to crash. He insisted the firm recommend to all its clients to short (bet against the market) the stocks they own. This was a bold and risky move, because if stocks continued to rise in price they could lose a lot of money. By September 3rd the Dow was up to $381, and I'm sure Dad was getting more and more nervous everyday as the firm and clients started to lose money with the rise in stock prices. Then came October 28th and 29th black Monday and black Tuesday when the market crashed. When the market closed on October 29th the Dow was at $230 and Dad looked like a genius and saved the firm and most of their clients millions. He continued to short the market until June 1932 when the Dow was at $42. Then he started to buy stocks and said he never recommended selling stocks short again for the rest of his career.

While the depression was very hard on so many people, because of Dad's bold insight our family, his firm and most of their clients did okay. However some clients refused to go along with the short sell recommendation and lost a lot of money.

My mom taught fifth grade at the same school Pete and I attended. When we were going into the fifth grade she switched with another teacher for a year and taught the sixth grade, then went back to the fifth when Pete and I started sixth. I'm not just saying this because she's my mother but she was a great teacher. Every kid we knew that had her as a teacher always told us she was the best teacher they ever had. I am not surprised because she was also the best mom.

Just then we heard. "Oh no I don't believe it." Grandpa yelled.

Pete and I ran down stairs as fast as we could. "What happened Grandpa?" Exclaimed Pete.

"Ah I don't believe it, Schmeling knocked out Lewis in the 12th. I just heard it on the radio."

"Wow that's unbelievable," I said. "I thought Lewis would knock him out for sure."

"Yea me too." Pete added.

"Well I'm sure that Nazi leader in Germany Hitler is happy," Grandpa said. "I don't trust that guy, he's bad news you watch what I'm telling you."

Pete and I went upstairs to get ready for tomorrow. We liked boxing and followed the big fights but we were mostly baseball fans. At that point we didn't understand the political implications of the fight. To us it was just two guys fighting, and we both liked Lewis and he lost.

Tomorrow morning Mom and Grandma are making a big breakfast at our house. It's kind of a bon voyage party for us. Nonna and Nonno are coming. They live about a half mile from us, and own an Italian restaurant in Oscawana, the Shadowbrook Inn, just off Albany Post Road. Our neighbors Sara and Freddy Underwood, and Mister and Misses Lloyd will be there as well.

Sara and Freddy never had children and they always treated Pete and me as if we were their own kids. On every birthday and at Christmas they always got us something. They were like our own family.

Mister and Miss Lloyd were really nice people as well. Mister Lloyd was the editor for Field and Stream magazine and he was a judge at the Westminster Kennel Club dog shows in Madison Square Garden. He once told us that our dog Doro was a really fine example of a Yellow Lab and we should consider showing him, but we really never had any interest. To us Doro was a member of our family and we loved him the way he was, he didn't need to be a show dog. Nonna named him Doro when he was a puppy. It means golden in Italian.

I know George Gray was invited but he never wants to come in the house. Hopefully he will tomorrow, but if not I know we will see him before we leave.

# Chapter 4: Saturday morning as we hit the road, June 20, 1936.

It's 7:00 am and I wake up to the smell of bacon and the sound of beating eggs in a glass bowl. I look across the hall and Pete is up and in the bathroom already. I took a bath last night so I would be ready to go first thing in the morning. So I put on my clothes and start down stairs. Just as I get into the kitchen Nonna and Nonno arrive.

"I hope we not a too early." Nonna says in her Italian accent with a box of Cannolis and Biscottis in her hands.

"Good morning Evelyn, Maria," Nonno says. "Ah there's a my boy" he says as he hugs me. "Where's a Jake and Charlie?"

"Dad took Jake down to Ossining in the Packard to pick up the truck and trailer at Perrone's." Mom replied. "They should be back shortly papa."

Then Pete comes down and Nonna and Nonno are so glad to see him. Pete still has that look of concern he had last night, of perhaps he's not fully awake.

Just then Dad pulls up with the truck and trailer, with Grandpa behind him in the Packard. This is our first look at the truck and trailer completed. I saw it in several stages of construction but this is the final product and it's ready to roll. It looks as streamline as one of those mahogany racing boats you see sometimes on Greenwood Lake. The mahogany wood shines in the morning sun and you can almost see your reflection in it. I've never seen anything like it.

George Gray comes out of the shop and he says to Dad. "Jake this is a thing of beauty."

"Thanks George it took a lot of work but I'm really happy the way it turned out."

Nonna comes out and says. "Ma Mia!"

"Come in I'll give you all the tour." Dad says.

The outside of both the truck and trailer are mahogany with golden oak trim around the windows and the skylights in the roofs. Inside is the nicest maple I ever saw. The draws are bird's eye maple, cabinets Tigger maple with stripes that looked like they came off a Tiger I once saw at the Bronx Zoo. With the light color of the maple and the skylights in the ceiling it's fairly bright inside. The workmanship is first class all the way, the Perrone brothers did an amazing job carrying out Dad's design plans. Every inch of space is well thought out and well-engineered down to the smallest detail.

In the trailer, Pete and I have built in bunk beds. We have a shower with a propane heater that heats water in the overhead copper tank. The shower stall is all wood with a brass drain that empties into a holding tank for greywater. The toilet empties into a separate tank below for blackwater. There is draw space for clothes or other supplies throughout with built in foot holds to get to the top draws.

The truck has the same general design as the trailer only with a small kitchen. There's a small gas oven and stove. To work properly gas stoves and ovens need to be level. Dad designed a leveling system inside so the entire truck wouldn't need to be leveled every time we stopped. This was a good design, but not all of his designs worked as well. He designed a slate ironing board that could be heated from underneath, in theory clothes could be ironed on a hot board with a cold iron. A good concept but really not practical. On the back of the truck he installed an oak barrel spring mounted that we could use as a washing machine. With the barrel half filled with soap, water and laundry the springs would let it bounce as you drive and clean the clothes inside. A good design that worked best on rough roads.

Sara and Freddy Underwood and the Lloyds arrive as Pete and Dad were showing the men the truck's engine. Dad explains it has Dodge's largest engine and a two speed axel which helps when towing a trailer. Gas mileage is poor so it has two gas tanks.

As we go back into the house and finish breakfast a strange thing happens. For the longest time Grandma and Grandpa were opposed to our trip but Nonna and Nonno seemed fine with the whole idea. However, today Nonna seemed very upset while Grandma and Grandpa seemed to accept the idea. Nonna started crying and said something in Italian to Nonno. He just nodded and said "Don't worry it will all be fine."

Then there was a loud knock on the door. It was Uncle Gino and Aunt Marisa his wife. Gino was Mom's youngest brother and the first one in her family born in America. Gino was a real character and Pete and I really adored him. He was always a free spirit and lived life to the fullest. His wife Marisa was really nice and she was as fun loving as he was, but she also had a serious more responsible side which was lacking in Gino. They had been married only a short time and Mom said it was the best thing that ever happened to Gino. I didn't know they were coming today but I'm glad to see them both.

Mom's oldest brother my Uncle Ray is a pilot for Eastern Airlines and lives in Long Island with his wife and two daughters. Before Uncle Ray started working for Eastern he ran a small airport and flight school in Croton. He taught Gino to fly and now Gino is a flight instructor by day and a bartender at the Shadowbrook working for Nonno at night. When Uncle Ray started to fly for Eastern, Gino took over running the airport and flight school in Croton. Marisa works with Gino at the Shadowbrook as a waitress.

Gino is a good hearted guy and told Pete and I when we turned sixteen he was going to teach us to fly. He wanted to start sooner but he knew Nonna was very much against it. He was teaching my dad to fly and earlier this year Dad soloed and plans to get his pilot license when we return from our trip.

Before Gino met Marisa we always heard he did some crazy things. Uncle Ray once told me a story that really highlighted Gino's carefree and daring attitude. As Uncle Ray explained it, in 1931 Gino was flying for an organization that, well let's say felt prohibition wasn't fair and it was merely a guideline that could be ignored. So one evening Gino was flying a shipment of Canada's finest rye whiskey from Montreal to an empty isolated field out on Croton Point, a few miles from our house. Unfortunately his plane developed an engine problem just a few miles from the field. Gino crashed the plane on a dirt road just a quarter mile from our house, luckily he wasn't hurt. Dad heard the plane's engine sputtering as it passed over our house and the sound of a crash. He jumped in the car to see what happened. As soon as he got there he saw a man flagging down a police car and telling the police there was a plane crash up ahead and pointed to where he heard the crash. The police had no idea they were speaking to the pilot. Dad in the car right behind the police car was shocked to see it was Gino. He asked "What happened Gino."

"Oh hi Jake. Yea a small plane crashed on Warren road just up ahead. Don't go up there just turn around and let's go to the Shadowbrook for something to eat."

"What, no perhaps someone was hurt and we can help."

"No its fine Jake no one was hurt."

"What about the pilot Gino? He may be hurt."

"No he's fine Jake you're taking him to the Shadowbrook for some calamari marinara over linguini."

Dad turned the car around and went back to the house, picked up Mom and the three of them had dinner at the Shadowbrook. By the time they got there everyone in the restaurant was talking about the plane crash that just occurred. Then Dad understood what was actually going on when he heard one guy say "yea the cops told me that plane was filled with Canadian Rye. I'm sorry it didn't crash a little closer to my house."

Someone asked "Was anyone hurt? What about the pilot?"

"The cops said they were still looking for him, he must be nearby on foot."

Dad just shook his head as Gino said "I thought I heard a crash. I thought it was a truck on route nine. How about that a plane crash, hard to believe."

Other than Dad and my Uncle Ray and eventually Mom, Pete, and me. I don't think anyone else ever knew the real story. Certainly not Nonna and Nonno.

As soon as Gino and Maria came into the house everyone seemed to cheer up, especially Nonna. A few minutes before it seemed like my grandparents were feeling sad. Gino grabbed Pete and I in a headlock, one of us under each of his arms. He said "So you two guys are going to see the country. I think that's great. When you get back I'm going to teach you both to fly?"

"Uffa, Gino! No they too young." Nonna protested loudly.

"No ma. When they come back they will be men. Jake will get his license and he can help me."

"I don't know, I don't think living like a gypsy makes a boy a man."

"Mamma!" Mom said. "I thought we went over all this, it will be good for them, for all of us."

Nonna just shook her head.

Then Grandma said. "You will have good luck because I heard on the radio there was an eclipse yesterday and that means good luck when starting a trip."

Then Nonna looked at Doro and said in Italian, "Doro, vegliare sulla mia famiglia."

Later I asked Mom what she said and she told me, "Doro, watch over my family."

Dad had most of our stuff loaded in the trailer. All we had to do was bring a few small bags of clothes, and some personal items. It was about 11:00 am and we were all set to hit the road. We hugged and kissed our grandparents and said goodbye to Gino, Marisa and the rest of our friends as Dad started the Dodge.

We were off, our first stop is Scranton, Pennsylvania about 120 miles west on route 6. We are going to visit my mother's cousin Jenny. Jenny's husband Arthur owns a coal mine in Scranton. Dad and Arthur partnered on some investments deals together in coal and drilling equipment in the past. Dad once told us the US is the biggest supplier of coal and will be using more in the future to supply power for industry as the US works its way out of this depression. He felt that now was a good time to start investing in coal.

Pete, Doro and I rode up front with Mom and Dad in the truck, it was dangerous to be in the trailer when we were moving. We have to head north first through Peekskill then on to Bear Mountain road. A very narrow winding road built on the side of a mountain. It can be a little tense at times even in a car, so the truck will get its first real test hauling us up steep winding grades. As we approach the incline Dad puts the axel into low range and we start our slow ascent to the Bear Mountain Bridge and across the Hudson River.

We could only go 25 miles per hour on Bear Mountain road and quickly on a Saturday afternoon traffic started to build behind us. There is no place to pass or pull a truck and trailer over on the road, so we just kept moving the best we could until we reached the bridge. I'm not sure why but for some reason I didn't feel the journey started until we crossed the Bear Mountain bridge and the Hudson River. After we crossed the bridge we stayed on route 6 for the next five hours until we reached Scranton, Pennsylvania.

We arrive at Jenny's and Arthur's house at 5:00 pm. They were both waiting for us and were glad to see we made the first of many legs to come on this journey. We ate dinner at their house and they invited us to stay with them. Mom and Dad took them up on the offer but Pete and I wanted to spend our first night in the bunk beds in our trailer. So we spent the night parked in their driveway, it would be our first of many locations camping across America.

Because of all that went on that day both Pete and I were really tired but for some reason couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was the new bed or just all the excitement of the day that still hasn't quite worn off.

As we were lying in our bunks trying to get to sleep I asked Pete, "What are you going to miss the most while we're gone?"

"I guess our friends, Grandma and Grandpa, and Nonna's spaghetti sauce. How about you."

"Yea that and playing pool with Grandpa." We had a professional quality pool table in our basement. My grandpa was a real pool shark. He and I use to play three or four times a week. Pete played as well but not as much as I did. Nine ball was my favorite game and Grandpa told everyone how well I played for my age.

"Pete another thing I'm really going to miss is the Lions' Club weekend baseball league." I uttered.

"Yea me too John."

"Pete remember Hurlburt?"

"How could I forget?"

The local Lions' Club started a baseball league for kids between the ages of 13 and 16. Nonno was our team's sponsor and he provided us with caps, bats, balls and dark blue tea shirts with Oscawana Indians our team's name in white scripted letters on the front, and Shadowbrook Inn printed on the back. Last year was our first year and we were looking forward to playing again this year.

Then as Pete started to dose off I started thinking about some of the guys that were in the league. We had a bunch of great guys on our team and even though Pete and I were among the youngest we really fit in with the rest of our team. We only had eleven players on the Indians so everyone got to play. Only once were we one man short and had to play with eight which is tough on a regulation size baseball field. We had to use two out fielders instead of three and still won the game.

Most of the players in the league were very competitive, but good sports and rarely were there any arguments or fights. With one exception the Buchanan Bombers, they had one guy Al Hurlburt who was the classic loud mouth bully.

Hurlburt was what was known in baseball terms as a real bench jockey. When the opposing team was in the field you could hear his loud mouth blasting as he taunted the other players the entire game. There were even times when he got on his own team mates if they made and error or miss played a ball in the field. He was a big kid for his age and really liked to throw his weight around and usually threated the smaller guys. I guess to be fair almost everyone his age was smaller than him.

As I recall Hurlburt had only one friend Dave Steinberg, we always called him Spaulding. He got the nick name Spaulding because he was always reading the Spaulding Baseball guide book. He knew every rule in baseball including all the confusing balk rules. He even knew the obscure rules such as a balk by a catcher and called it on us during one game. Our catcher Jimmy Dolan was calling for a pitch out to intentionally walk a guy and stepped out of the catcher's box before the pitcher was in motion. The moment this happened a high pitch scream came from the Buchannan bench "balk!" We all knew who called it and never argued in fear of listening to a long dissertation on the exact wording of the rule in nauseating detail, including the page number in the rule book. Even with all his annoyances and his dedication to the rules of baseball, Spaulding was actually a really nice kid. I could never figure out why he was friends with Hurlburt who was his exact opposite. Spaulding was small for his age but very smart, Hurlburt was big and not very bright.

If you were a baseball fan in those days New York was the best place to live. We were the only state to have three major league baseball teams. Whenever you had a conversation with someone about baseball you always wanted to know their favorite team. So you would ask, "What team, Yanks, Giants, or Dodgers?" Spaulding was a huge Giants fan. Years later he became a lawyer in Manhattan and when the Giants announced their planned move to San Francisco in 1957. Spaulding tried to sue the team for leaving the city. He felt that a professional sports team belongs in part to the people of that city and shouldn't be allowed to move without a special referendum on the election ballot. Of course the case never made it to court but he was always trying.

In our first game against Buchannan, Pete almost got in a fight with Hurlburt. He hit a ground ball to me at deep short I made the long throw to Pete playing first base. Hurlburt was out by a step but as he stepped on first base he spiked Pete's ankle. It was just a small scratch but both Pete and I felt it was deliberate. Pete yelled to him as he headed to the bench, "Watch it, you just spiked me." With that Hurlburt said something and when Pete replied Hurlburt ran back and started pushing Pete. The umpire Mr. Claire jumped in and broke it up quickly. From that point on Pete and Hurlburt never got along. Every time we played them he was always riding Pete. Then at our last game of the season Pete made and error in the second inning that cost us two runs. Hurlburt never let up with his laughing as he continued to taunt Pete as the game went on. It got to the point where I couldn't take it any longer, listening to his crap.

Then it happened I broke one of the five rules our father always asked us to respect. He told us to "Never steal, lie, cheat, brag or intentionally hurt another person." Well I only intended to bend the fifth rule, but by accident I guess I broke it. At the time I felt if I had to break rule five what better person to break it on than Hurlburt.

After Pete's error that day the score was tied. Our pitcher Rickey Hoover was getting tired after the 6th inning, so I came in from shortstop to pitch the rest of the game. The leadoff batter for their team that inning was Hurlburt. As he got into the batter's box he had this stupid looking smirk on his face and I know he wanted to take the lead hitting just one pitch out of the park. So I did something I never did before or since in baseball. I tried to dust him off, yes throw the ball about one inch from his chin and make him back off the plate. Well perhaps my subconscious over took my better judgment or perhaps it was just an accident. To be honest I'm not sure which. I nodded as I took the sign for a fast ball from Jimmy Dolan our catcher. I spun the ball in my hand and felt the two seams across my two fingers. As I started my wind up I concentrated on and imaginary spot about 2 inches from Hurlburt's stupid smirk and let it go with all I had. The ball cut in more than planned and went straight for his head. He spun away and hit the dirt and the ball grazed his left ear. For that one second I felt relief that I didn't hit him square in the head. Then I felt some real guilt because I came so close to really hurting someone. Back in those days no one wore batters helmets.

In just two seconds all those emotions of relief from not hurting someone changed as Hurlburt got up. He slammed his bat on the ground and like a mad bull he started charging straight at me. I have to admit because he was a lot bigger and because I did throw the ball at his head, I was scared. As he start coming closer I stepped back a few feet and froze. He was now at a full speed and closing fast on his target, me when I saw from the corner of my left eye Pete flying through the air. He tackled this mad bull just a few feet from my face. The next thing I saw was Pete punching him as they were rolling on the ground. The umpire Mr. Claire was an older man, so it took him a few seconds to come out from behind home plate and break up the fight as he shouted "Pete and Al you're both out of the game." I guess he didn't feel I threw at Hurlburt intentionally so I survived and was allowed to finish the game.

Jimmy Dolan, Ricky Hoover and I helped Mr. Clair break up the fight and held Pete back from beating on Hurlburt. It was clear Pete got the better of this one because Hurlburt had blood coming from his nose and his lower lip. The rest of our team gathered around the pitcher's mound to see how Pete was as he left the game. Mr. Claire helped Hurlburt up and just then an odd thing happened. For as long as I can remember when two boys get in a fight that only last for a few seconds and they really don't like each other, the one who gets the worst of it usually says something like; This isn't over, we will finish this one some other time, or the famous your ass is grass next time I see you. However, in this case Hurlburt never said squat, he just walked to the bench grabbed his first baseman's mitt and never said a word to anyone as he left the field. It's hard to believe a guy that was that mad and looked like he was going to kill me one second could walk away like that just a few seconds later.

When the third out was made that inning and I went back to the bench Pete was still sitting there. I was surprised that Spaulding didn't protest to the umpire, because I believe the rules says when a player is ejected from the game he must leave the field, which includes the bench but not a word was said.

I asked Pete, "You all right?"

"Yea I'm fine."

"Thanks for saving my ass Pete, I thought that big bully was going to kill me."

"No problem I've been wanting to kick his ass ever since he spiked me on first base a few months ago."

"I can't believe he just left without saying a word?" I said, "I can't believe Spaulding hasn't told the ump to make you leave the field."

"I can John, did you notice something strange about that fight? Not one single person from his team came out to help him. Even after Mr. Claire broke it up no one asked him if he was all right. Did you notice when he charged at you Jimmy Dolan was right behind him and going to grab him and Rickey Hoover was running towards him from shortstop? I just got there first. If he hit you Rickey or Jimmy would have been all over him."

"Yea you're right I guess I didn't think about that."

"He was hurt more by what his own team didn't do than anything I did John."

Something happened to Hurlburt that day. We didn't see him again for quite a while but when we did he seemed different. He wasn't that loud mouth bully anymore. I'm not saying I liked him but he wasn't nearly as bad as I remembered. Spaulding always told me he wasn't a bad guy so who knows maybe he was right.

We both finally fell asleep, our first night on the road.

# Chapter 5: Leaving Scranton and heading west to Cleveland.

Scranton was an okay place to visit but we had to be on our way. While Dad and Uncle Arthur were talking business Pete and I walked around the town with little to do. Finally on Wednesday we said our good byes to Aunt Jenny and Uncle Arthur. We told them we had a good time, but to be honest it was four days of boredom. Pete and I couldn't wait to hit the road and continue west.

Our course that morning was route 6 to Illinois then route 66 west. Dad told us he had an investment interest to research for his company in the small mining town of Jerome, Arizona. One of Davis Brown's investments was in a mining company called Phelps Dodge. In 1934 Phelps Dodge purchased a mine in Jerome and Dad was very interested in seeing the operation first hand.

Most of the copper mining in the US was in the west far from Wall Street investors. In most cases information about mining was secondhand at best by the time it reached stock analyst in the east. So Dad's plan was to use this time to investigate the business first hand and report back to his firm. He felt this type of research would give Davis Brown clients a leg up on the other investment firms on Wall Street.

Both Pete and I were hoping a copper mining town in Arizona had more to offer than the coal mining town in Pennsylvania did, but we would have to wait a while to find out it was over 2,300 miles away. We were in no real hurry and had a few interesting stops to make on the way.

Route 6 was paved and well maintained but a very desolate road. As we traveled through Pennsylvania the towns and rest stops grew farther apart. The western part of Pennsylvania was green with rolling hills with farms occasionally appearing without warning on either side of the road.

We spent the night at a small camp site just outside Youngstown Ohio. It was the first night Mom and Dad slept in the truck while Pete and I were in the trailer with Doro. For some reason I felt a little uncomfortable that night. I felt like we were in the middle of nowhere. I had never been this far west in my life and traveling like this took a little getting used to.

I didn't fully realize it at the time but as I think back on it, this was the night that Doro changed. He was a great dog but until that night he was like a large puppy that just wanted to play and eat. Now all of a sudden he seemed more serious and protective of our family. It was as if what Nonna said to him the day we left in Italian. "Doro, vegliare sulla mia famiglia" (Doro, watch over my family) somehow sunk in. He slept in the trailer with Pete and me the entire trip from that point on. He seemed very aware of every noise outside and listened intently whenever he heard a strange sound. In New York and even when we were parked in Aunt Jenny's driveway in Scranton he didn't seem nearly this serious. Somehow this made me feel safer knowing he was now on guard duty.

The next morning Mom made breakfast for us outside on our small pull out grill that slid out from under the right side of the truck. A well thought out feature designed by my dad. It rained a little last night so the smell of bacon and eggs seemed even more intense than usual as it sizzled on the grill. For some reason things just seemed better this morning. Perhaps it was the long ride and the first night camping out that made me feel uncomfortable last night, but today that feeling was totally gone. I was looking forward to us pressing on through Ohio. After we ate, cleaned up and took Doro for a short walk we were back rolling on route 6 heading west.

Route 6 in Ohio was a little different than route 6 in Pennsylvania. The rolling hills were now gone and things really flattened out. It was still a nice road with a string of farms connecting small towns one after another. By midafternoon we were just a few miles from Cleveland when Dad pulled into a small camp site right on Lake Erie. Dad explained we were going to spend a few days here. Then he gave us some good news. He said he was going to try to get tickets to the ball game on Sunday. The Cleveland Indians were going to be playing the Red Sox. Of course it would have been better if the Indians were playing the Yankees, but it was still baseball.

Pete reminded me that the Red Sox got Jimmie Foxx from the Philadelphia Athletics over the winter. Foxx or as some call him "Double X" while others referred to him as the "Beast", was one guy Pete and I always wanted to see play. Davis Brown Investments had season tickets to all the Yankees games and Dad's boss Mr. Davis would give him tickets to several games every year. We were really lucky and got to see the Yankees a few times every season. However, Mr. Davis grew up in Philadelphia and he was a big Athletics fan and he never relinquished the tickets for the games when the Athletics came to play at Yankee Stadium. So we never got to see the great Jimmy Foxx. Now that he was on the Sox and we were in Cleveland this was our chance.

Just a few days ago Pete and I met some kids in Scranton that were big Athletics fans. One kid was trying to convince us that Foxx was better than Lou Gehrig. Of course neither Pete nor I would buy that argument, but this kid went on and on about the incredible power of the beast, as he called him with a somewhat fearful expression on his face. He told us no one was stronger or could hit a ball farther. Well perhaps on Sunday we will see for ourselves firsthand.

Then Dad told us something even more interesting. He said that starting Saturday Cleveland was having something called "The Great Lakes Expo" and perhaps on Monday we should check it out. Cleveland was one city that really suffered during the depression, and even now in 1936 they still had a long way to go to reach economic recovery. The expo was a smaller version of a world's fair. The city planners felt that an event like this would bring people from all over the country to Cleveland and help their economy. As Dad explained it, this was a big deal and there would be a lot of new and interesting things to see. It was right next to the ball park, so on Sunday after the game we would see about getting tickets for the Expo on Monday.

The camp site we had on Lake Erie was really nice and had its own beach. Suddenly things were looking a light brighter, beach, baseball and The Great Lakes Expo what could be better.

Lake Erie was more like an ocean than any lake I ever saw. I read about the great lakes in school but never realized just how huge they were. Suddenly the Hudson River seemed narrow by comparison. Because it was early and we had time before dinner Pete and I decided to go for a swim. Even thought it was late June we instantly learned something else about the great lakes. The water was freezing. So our swimming idea lasted the better part of five minutes. Doro really loved it of course. Labrador Retrievers just love the water and it never seems to matter how cold it is just as long as it's wet.

When we arrived at the camp site we met a really nice lady Mrs. Yarter. She and her husband ran the camp and they loved Dogs. So we asked her if she would keep an eye on Doro while we were at the ballgame and the Expo. She said she would be glad to watch him.

In the morning we learned there was a train station not far from the camp and it would be easier to take a train than drive the truck into Cleveland. The game started at 1:00 pm but we left early so we could see a little more of the city. Cleveland was a nice place but it did have a bad reputation for organized crime. Although in the 30s many cities in the US had organized crime problems, as the depression and prohibition ended crime started to diminish in most places.

After lunch we headed to Municipal Stadium for the game. I've been to Yankee Stadium many times and always thought nothing could possibly be larger. However as we entered Municipal Stadium I suddenly realized this place was immense. The upper deck extended all the way to right and left center field. For baseball games it could hold 75,000 people and even more for football.

The ballgame turned out to be a Cleveland blowout, they were ahead 11-1 by the eighth inning. Then in the top of the eight with the bases empty down by ten runs the Beast, aka Double X came to the plate for Boston. Suddenly we heard what sounded like a crack of thunder as he connected with a fast ball. As I looked up the baseball started to look more like a golf ball as it cleared the left center field wall. This was one of the hardest hit balls Pete and I ever saw hit. It seemed to go from home plate into the hands of a guy sitting in the deep center field bleachers in just two seconds. Now I'm not saying that Gehrig hasn't hit them as far or as hard, but for some reason this one seemed to go out like a rocket. It seemed that much of what that kid in Scranton said about the beast may have been true.

Just then the entire field seemed to get shady really quickly. I looked up and it was the Goodyear blimp. Two Goodyear blimps were here for the Expo just across the street. When it went overhead Pete said, "Wow look at the size of that thing."

A guy sitting in front of us said in a German accent. "That is nothing you should see the Hindenburg, now that's an airship, this one is only a toy."

After the game we got our Expo tickets, fifty cents a person for tomorrow. Then we boarded the train back to the campsite. Pete and I couldn't stop talking about the Beast and his blast on the train ride back.

The next morning we were off again. The same train to the same stop in Cleveland to see the Great Lakes Expo. I've never been to a world's fair but if it has more to see than the Expo it must really be something. We get there early and had breakfast at the Alpine Restaurant in the Expo. During breakfast we read through the Expo guide to lay out a plan for the day. Looking back on it it's funny what a 14 year old boy would find interesting in a place like this. One thing Pete and I wanted to see was the world's smallest woman, Inez Del Rio. She was 17 years old and only 21 inches tall. Unfortunately the day before she fell off the stage and was now in Cleveland General Hospital. She would be fine in a few days but Pete and I never got to see her. Nevertheless, we did see the world's tallest man Aurelio Tomaini he was 8 foot 6.

As we left the restaurant we heard the roar of motorcycles. The sign outside said the Lion Motordrome. There was a large wooden round barrel inside the building where spectators would peek over the rim as two guys and a girl rode motor cycles inside the barrel at a 90 degree angle. At the bottom of the barrel was a lion in a cage open at the top. If a rider fell he or she would wind up in the cage with the lion. As we watched Dad realized these two guys were the same two who once lived in our trailer, The Speedway Speidell Brothers. They use to work for a carnival out of New York. At first it seemed like an odd coincidence, but when you think about how many people race motorcycles inside a barrel with a lion at the bottom. It had to be them.

After the show we met the Speidells and told them about how we were now living in their old trailer. They were really interested when Dad explained how much work we did and how good it looks now. They laughed and said they hoped we got it at a good price because they knew how rough the inside was when they sold it to the Marque Circus. Pete asked if they were ever afraid with the lion just below them as they rode the barrel. They said no, and told us the secret was to feed the lion well before every show.

There was so many attractions to see at the Expo. We saw our first television that day, and wondered how long it would be before we could get one. Ohio Bell had an exhibit where they would let you call long distance for free. So we waited on a long line and got to call our grandparents and let them know we were fine.

Then as we were leaving the exhibit we heard someone say there's Jimmy Foxx and Joe Cronin from the Boston Red Sox. They were just walking around taking in the Expo when someone recognized them and asked for an autograph. Pete and I wanted meet Jimmy Foxx so we and ran over. It's funny but I was a little nervous at first, I guess I was still thinking of the kid in Scranton calling him the Beast. To my surprise however, "The Beast" looked like a regular guy, he had huge arms and wrist but he was only about six feet tall. Which seemed short after just seeing 8 foot 6 Aurelio Tomaini. We asked if we could have his autograph and he said sure. I told him we saw his home run yesterday and it was one heck of a blast. He laughed and said "Thanks but it was too little too late we lost 11-3." As he stood there talking to us he seemed like a regular guy. He was nothing like his nick name the Beast. He said today was an off day and he was heading back to New York this afternoon for tomorrow's game with the Yankees. Both Pete and I hoped that the Yankees would pitch to Foxx carefully.

As we left the Great Lakes Expo we knew we had two great days in Cleveland. The next morning would be back on the road and heading west.

# Chapter 6: Route 66.

In the morning we said our goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Yarter and thanked them for watching Doro while we were in Cleveland. They were really nice people the kind you never forget. It's one of those sad realities of life when you get to meet some really nice people and as you say goodbye to them you know you will probably never see them again. It was like that with the Yarters. I felt bad about saying goodbye but I was really glad I got to meet them.

The truck only averaged about forty miles per hour towing the trailer. I guess it could have gone faster but stopping this rig took some time and space. So we usually cruised at forty, a slow of comfortable pace. We were going to follow route 6 to route 66 heading south west. Picking up route 66 just south of Chicago which would take us a day and a half of driving.

By dinner time we were passing through the small town of Ligonier Indiana, when Mom spotted a little Italian restaurant. So we decided to stop. It was a really nice place but the food was not nearly as good as the Shadowbrook. We were learning quickly that the further you go west the harder it is to find good Italian food. It was still light out after dinner so Dad wanted to press on for another hour. When we were leaving I started thinking about how much fun we had in Cleveland and how it made up for the four days we spent in Scranton. Just then I heard a loud bag and then a scrapping sound on the road. The truck came to a slow stop and It was clear to all of us we had a problem. Luckily both Dad and Pete knew their way around mechanical stuff. So as soon as we stopped Pete was crawling under the truck and I heard him say to Dad. "We lost the pin in the universal joint where it connects to the drive shaft, Dad!"

"Let's take a look." Dad said as he crawled under with Pete. "Yea you're right Pete, if we can find the pin we may be able to fix it until we get to the next town. Let's start looking it should be about 500 feet back on the road somewhere."

This section of Route 6 was not well-travelled. For the next hour we looked for the missing pin. During that time only two or three cars passed by. Then finally just before it got dark Pete found it he yelled. "I've got it, we should be able to bang this thing back in."

While Pete and Dad were hammering the pin back in I was walking Doro and Mom was in the truck making some sandwiches for tomorrow's lunch. Just then two guys pulled up in an old Ford and parked in front of our truck. They were two unusual looking guys that didn't appear to be from this part of Indiana. Dressed in black with shiny black shoes and slicked back hair. Not the usual attire for Indiana farm country on a Tuesday evening.

"Can we provide some assistance?" The taller of the two said in a somewhat high pitch voice.

"Thanks," Dad replied. "But I think we got it, the pin in the universal popped out but we should be able to put it back in and it should hold until we reach the next town."

"I see you're from New York." The shorter guy said with sarcastic tone. "This is a pretty fancy rig you got here."

Just then Doro did something I never heard him do, he started growling at these two guys. I grabbed his collar and held him back as the taller guy look at me. Then he said, as he backed up a step. "Hold that dog boy or I'll have to stick him." As he pulled out a switchblade knife from his back back pocket.

Dad and Pete were still sitting on the ground next to the truck as the shorter guy pulled out a knife as well. Then Dad said, "Hay guys we're just passing through, that dog won't hurt you, thanks again for the offer to help but we will take it from here."

"No, you got it all wrong." The taller guy said with a caustic laugh. "We will take it from here, we want your New York money, and we want it all right now."

As Dad stood up he still had the hammer in his hand when the shorter guy said. "Put down that hammer man or I will stick this kid." Moving dangerously closer to Pete.

I could feel my heart in my throat, I was never this scared in my life. I was ten times more scared then I was that day Al Hurlburt charged the pitching mound and I thought he was going to kill me. Now it wasn't just me but Dad, Pete and Doro as well. Doro's growling became a lot louder and I was holding him tighter, I could feel some shaking but wasn't sure if it was him or me.

Just then I heard a loud blast, my ears started to ring instantly. I saw a bright flash from the corner of my right eye. The two punks froze and the shorter one dropped his knife. As I turned to see what happened, there was Mom about twenty feet behind me with a double barreled shot gun. She had just fired one barrel full of buck shot a few feet over the taller guy's head. It was so close he must have felt the shot whoosh by his slicked back hair. Then she moved closer to them yelling as she looked right at the taller guy. "You have three seconds to leave before I cut you in half with the second barrel. One, two."

The shorter guy who dropped his knife when he heard the blast went to pick it up. "Touch it and that'll be the last thing you'll ever touch." Mom yelled in a tone I never heard before as she added some well-chosen superlatives I never heard her use before.

I never saw two guys run so fast. They got in their car, never turned on their lights so we couldn't get the plate number as they sped off. As soon as they were out of sight Mom and Dad hugged Pete and I. Then all four of us even Doro hugged each other all at once next to the truck. I don't ever remember us doing a group hug like that ever before or ever again.

Just then I started crying. For some reason I could stop the tears. I was almost fourteen and embarrassed to cry like that in front of everyone. I felt like a five year old. Pete and Dad were already under the truck fixing the drive shaft and I was out here with Mom crying like a baby. Mom kept telling me it was alright, it was over, we were all okay. For a minute or two I just couldn't stop. By the time I did Dad announced the truck was ready to go, and said with a smile. "Let's get out of here." As he put his arm around me and we got into the truck.

I didn't say a word until we reached the next town of Nappanee, Indiana. As soon as we arrived Dad went to the police station and reported the incident. The police were very concerned and thanked us for letting them know. They said based on the description they were most likely not from around here. Mom told the police she was concerned that they may see our truck and try something again. She explained we can't leave until we get it fixed and plan to stay at a hotel in town for the night. The police told us of a nearby hotel and assured us they would watch over the truck and check on us in the morning. They also recommended a good repair shop just down the road.

As we got to the hotel I couldn't help thinking of what happened and how Mom reacted. I almost never heard her raise her voice, and never heard her use bad language. She may have saved our lives that day. I remembered Gino once telling me that mom was a great shot. She use to shot skeet with Uncle Ray and Nonno as a kid. I guess it was a good thing for us she still had her marksman skills well in tune.

We really didn't talk about what happened that night. We all stayed in the same hotel room including Doro. Then Pete asked me in a whisper. "I didn't know we had a shot gun with us, did you John?"

"No I didn't either but I'm glad we did and that Mom knew how to use it."

"Yea she sure did. I'll never forget this day." He said as we both went to bed totally exhausted.

The next morning Dad took the truck to the repair shop recommended by the Nappanee police. He asked us to meet him in the diner across the street from the hotel in thirty minutes for breakfast. We were sitting in the diner for just a few minutes when Dad pulled up in a horse drawn carriage with an Amish man driving. He told us the man saw him walking and was kind enough to give him a ride. There was a small Amish community just outside of town.

After we ordered breakfast Dad told Pete and me he wanted to talk to us about what happened last night. He said. "I know it was scary but we are all fine. Mom and I are really proud of the way you both behaved. Even Doro (who was sitting outside tied to a pole at the moment). Believe me we were all scared but we can't let these types of things affect us, we need to put them behind us. There are some bad people in this world and from time to time you may meet them, but just try to do what you feel is right and don't let these few bad apples control your life. Believe me there are many more good people in the world, like the policemen last night, the Yarters we met in Cleveland and the Amish man who just gave me a ride. I know when something happens like this it's not easy to forget, but we did fine, especially your mom."

"What would have happened Dad if Mom wasn't their? I asked.

"I really don't know John, no one will ever know. We just have to be thankful she was and she did what she did. Whenever something happens it's natural to ask what if? However these are things we will never know, we need to live life and go on and make the most of it. Do you guys want to talk about it some more, its fine if you want to?"

Pete said. "No, but I was surprised and glad we had that old Ithaca double barrel and Mom knew how to shoot it."

"I was too Pete I think we all are."

Just then the chief of police came in and introduced himself to us. He said he heard from his sergeant what happened to us last night, but they couldn't find anyone that fit the description of those two guys, and told us they were probably long gone, most likely in Chicago by now. He said he was sorry it happened and asked if there was anything he could do? Dad thanked him and said we will be moving on shortly as soon as the mechanic fixes our truck.

As we were eating breakfast I couldn't help but think about what happened last night still feeling embarrassed as to the way I cried. Something happens to a boy when he turns thirteen, he feels he needs to act like a man and when he doesn't it can really affect him. I guess in my case it was the first time in my life I felt so helpless and afraid of losing the most important people in my life including my dog. I was really glad and proud of how my Mom reacted and saved us all. However I never saw her like that and somehow I found it unsettling. I'm not sure I understood why but I saw a part of her I never realized existed. Perhaps it's something that instinctively comes out in a mother, perhaps in a similar way a mother bear or lion protects their cubs.

I'll never forget last night. As I look back on it, it was one of those life changing events. It made me feel things such as fear of loss and confusion I never experienced before at the age of thirteen. It made me appreciate my family more. I realized for the first time how quickly life can change and you could lose some of the most important things in a flash. It's an appreciation that fades over time unfortunately until something else comes along to remind you again to appreciate what you have. It's an experience that somehow gets burned into your mind that never totally leaves you.

The truck was repaired by noon as promised. It was a nice day so we all walked to the service station together.

As we drove out of town Dad thought it would be nice to stop at the Amish road side fruit and vegetable stand. Mom would have some fresh vegetables for dinner and it was kind of a nice way to thank the Amish man for the ride he gave Dad this morning.

It was the first time I ever saw Amish people. Mom knew a lot about their way of life and there history so as we hit the road on route 6 the "Lincoln Highway" west she gave us an interesting history lesson. She explained that they don't use electricity or gas powered vehicles. Because they don't want to be dependent on what they call the English, that us. Apparently many years ago they were mistreated by the Germans and fled to America where they could practice their religion in piece. However they still didn't trust outsiders or any form of government so they never want to be dependent on them for things like food and energy. As she was explaining all this to us we were passing Amish men and women working in the farm fields.

The depression hit the country hard and in 1936 it was still not over. In this part of Indiana the people seemed to fare better than the cities around the great lakes. Because it was farm land no one was starving, but they had very little money. Usually just enough to maintain their farms. The Amish community seemed almost unaffected by the depression with their simple way of life.

We finally reached route 66 at dinner time in the small town of Channahon, Illinois. We found a place to camp as Mom started making dinner.

The next morning when we woke up we realized it was going to be a hot day. In fact the month of July in 1936 was the hottest in U.S. history for the Midwest. Chicago had 12 consecutive days of temperatures over 100. To make matters worse there hadn't been any rain in weeks. The farmers were already struggling through the depression, and now this drought and heat wave brought them even more unwanted misery.

As we headed south on route 66 the heat during the day was almost unbearable. We had to make frequent stops or the engine would over heat pulling a trailer in 100 degree plus temperatures. At times we were forced to cruise at only 35 miles per hour in this heat. The asphalt on the road had to be over 120 degrees by noon which really testing the tires.

For the next three days we just plugged along on route 66 first going south then winding west. We would start early in the morning at sunrise before it got too hot and usually stopping before 3:00 pm. Under normal circumstances I think it would have been really nice to see the country but with this heat it was all I could do to stay awake most of the time. We gave Doro plenty of water and hosed him down whenever we stopped, which was usually every hour. Ice was not something you could come by in 1936 on route 66, so we did the best we could soaking our cloths in water to keep us cool as we pressed on.

As we entered Oklahoma things started to really change, I'll never forget the things we saw. In school we read about the dust bowl in Oklahoma and Texas but I had no idea what it really meant until that day. The heat was just as intense but suddenly it just didn't seem that important any more. We saw houses buried up to the roof with dirt, cars and tractors just barely visible covered in dirt. Farm fields once green with crops and white with cotton were now just giant sand boxes, and the worst was yet to come.

As we traveled in our custom made truck and trailer, we passed families stopped along the road. Some old trucks and cars were broke down because of the heat or radiators clogged with dust. Others just stopped to rest from the heat or pulled over to help neighbors in anguish. They were all overloaded with all sorts of household goods. The people looked lost and broken, and the children were scared and confused. I'm sure if there were only one or two families Dad would have pulled over and tried to help, but there were just too many. We did stop as one man flagged us down and asked for water and a lift to the next town to repair his flat tire. We gave him a ride and he told us he could get a ride back when the tire was fixed. He said he lost everything in the dust bowl and was taking his family west to California where he planned to start over. Even though he lost everything he somehow seemed optimistic and confident he could start over. I guess there is just something in the human spirit that enables some people to hit a reset button and start over. It's hard to understand unless it happens to you, and I hope I never have to find out.

Somehow my problems with the heat, missing our baseball team this summer and the boring ride didn't seem to matter any longer. When I saw the people of Oklahoma living in the dust bowl I realized how lucky my family was, and how lucky I was to be part of our family. I think we all did that day.

We spent the night in a camp near Amarillo, Texas. The camp was crowded and the people here seemed to be the same people we saw on the road. Everyone we met seemed nice but somewhat lost and dejected. Some people talked to us but for the most part they stayed away. I somehow felt they didn't trust us or weren't sure why we were there. We ate in the truck that night and left early in the morning. Before we left Mom walked over to the family camped next to us and told them we had to lighten our load in this heat and asked if they could take some things we were planning to leave behind. Of course we really didn't need to lighten the load, but Mom understood the need to preserve human dignity. She gave them most of the food we had and a lot of our clothes. They were traveling west with two boys and a girl about eight to twelve years old. I know they could really use the food and cloths.

When we got to Albuquerque, New Mexico that afternoon we spent most of the day shopping for new clothes and food for the rest of the trip. The streets were crowded in Albuquerque with people heading west and stopping for food and fuel. Indians were trying to sell jewelry and pottery, but I didn't see anyone buy anything. Most people had just enough (if they were lucky) for food and fuel, and slept on the side of the road in their cars or trucks at night.

After six days on route 66 in the worst heat I ever experienced we crossed over into Arizona. Surprisingly it was much cooler and dryer than what we experienced in the mid-west. As soon as we passed the "Welcome to Arizona" sign the topography changed. We went from the plains in the Midwest to the West. The scenery was like something in a western movie only in color. There was even a tepee in front of the general store where we refueled after the lengthy run from Albuquerque.

# Chapter 7: Arizona, July 7, 1936.

We spent the last week in record heat and in the most depressing place I ever saw, the dust bowl. So Arizona seemed like a rest stop just off the highway in heaven. We got off route 66 and drove through the Painted Desert, then the Petrified Forest. Both were beautiful and unique places that everyone should see at least once. Just a few months ago Pete and I saw the movie "The Petrified Forest" with Humphrey Bogart. It was fun to actually drive through the area where the movie was filmed. Although I found out years later it was actually filmed at a movie studio in California.

We spent the next day driving slowly south west heading towards the small mining town of Jerome, Arizona. Dad wanted to see firsthand the mining operation Phelps Dodge purchased in that town. Dad and his boss Mr. Davis felt the US was going to need a lot more copper as soon as the depression was over. The country will start growing again and copper will be needed in things like electrical cable and copper piping for water. Davis Brown shorted stocks (bet against them raising in price) on Dad's recommendation when the depression started, but now they were looking for undervalued stocks to buy for the future. Phelps Dodge seemed like a strong candidate to enhance their portfolio. Dad felt it was important to really understand what you're investing in and this was a good opportunity to see their mining operation firsthand.

Most of the roads we were traveling on now in this part of Arizona were dirt or gravel. Once we got off the main road the secondary roads connecting small towns were not paved. As we were getting closer to Jerome the scenery became even more beautiful. We drove through the town of Sedona where the red rock mountains were like something you would see in a painting.

Finally we could see Jerome in the distance. It's a town built on the side of a mountain. Our plan was to camp in the town of Cottonwood, about seven miles away. Leave the trailer parked at the campsite and drive up the mountain road to Jerome.

We found a nice campsite in Cottonwood run by a Navajo Indian family. It was close to the Verde River and a short walk to town. As we set up camp and unhooked the trailer we met two kids close to Pete's and my age. Rick and Dave Chaoma, their parents ran the camp. They were both really nice guys and we all hit it off right away. They even liked baseball and had a small sand lot pickup game almost every afternoon in the summer. The field was just a short distance from the camp, it wasn't in very good shape but it was still baseball.

The next morning we drove up and I do mean up to Jerome. A winding road climbed the side of the mountain like a snake. Good thing we didn't take the trailer because it would have been a little dicey making it to the top with a trailer in tow. I don't even what to think about the brakes going back down.

Jerome was an odd place. The houses were built on the side of the mountain and the road that went through the town was narrow, winding and steep. Kids weren't playing ball on the streets of Jerome because if the ball got by you it would roll all the way down the mountain. It was strictly a mining town with a great view of the valley.

We ate breakfast at the Hotel Conner where Dad was meeting with some men from Phelps Dodge to arrange a tour of the mine. He asked if Pete and I wanted to go, but I'm claustrophobic and had no interest. Pete however, really wanted to see the workings of a copper mine so he was eager to join the group. He and Dad went with the two men and I spend the day with my mom.

At first I felt a little embarrassed because I was afraid to go into the mine. Mom knew about my fear, and as usual sensed my discomfort and embarrassment. She said "I know you're a little upset about not going but it's nothing to worry about. I once saw you climb a telephone pole (much to her dismay) back home and I saw you picked up a snake in your bare hands. A lot of people are afraid of heights and snakes, and could never do what you did but it didn't faze you a bit. Everyone has something that makes them uncomfortable or afraid. "

I nodded and said, "Yes I guess so." I didn't feel better right away but as I thought about what she said eventually I did and forgot all about it.

"Now you can spend the day with your Mom exploring this little town, that's not so bad is it?"

It really wasn't bad at all. Mom and I walked all through the town that day. We got to see a lot of the little shops, had lunch and went to a movie "The Petrified Forest". I had already seen it but that was the only movie playing. I didn't mind seeing it again because we just drove through the Petrified Forest a few days ago. It turned out to be a great day, and as I thought about it later it was one of the few times I spent the whole day with just my mom. I guess that was really the best part.

We met Dad and Pete back at the Connor Hotel for dinner with the two guys from Phelps Dodge. Pete was really impressed with the mine. As he conveyed the details it became clear it was nothing like I imagined. It was just a wide hole in the ground where cranes loaded trucks with copper ore after it was blasted with dynamite. Nothing like I imagined, which in my mind was a long narrow mine shaft with wood supports that looked like they could cave in at any minute. These were the only mines I knew. The ones in the movies that always caved in, then just as the star was running out of air someone finds him and saves the day. I guess now I feel a little silly. Fear is a funny thing, you always imagine things to be much worse than they really are. Even though I missed the mine tour I was glad I spent the day with my mom.

After dinner we headed back to Cottonwood. The trip up the mountain to Jerome was a little scary and going back down was even worst. The brakes on trucks in 1936 we not very good, so we had to go down in low gear all the way. The view however was amazing. When we got back to camp Doro was glad to see us, Rick and Dave were keeping an eye on him.

Dad was working on an investment deal with the guys from Phelps Dodge so he would take the truck back up to Jerome most days for the next few weeks. We went with him occasionally but most of the time we stayed in Cottonwood. Pete and I played baseball almost every day with Rick and Dave. There was enough guys our own age from the camp to have our own team. Our team was a mix of some Navajo guys and guys from the camp that were from Texas or Oklahoma. We would play the teams from Cottonwood, Jerome and sometimes Sedona. It was a lot of fun. Not well organized just a sandlot pickup game almost every day.

One day after the game it was really hot so we all decided to go swimming in the Verde River. Normally the Verde would run low this time of the year. However for some reason northern Arizona and Utah had unusual heavy rains a few weeks before we arrived so the Verde was running at record levels and record speed. It was running so fast that the only place we could swim was in a little cove near the bend in the river not far from camp. Raging rapids were everywhere else on the river.

Eight of us from our team were in the water including one Yellow Lab, Doro. Even though it was over 100 degrees that day the water was very cool. It runs down from the mountains where the temperature is much cooler.

All was going well for a while until a few girls from Cottonwood showed up. Rick and Dave knew them, and Dave had a crush on one girl Laura. I guess what happened next was a typical scene in teenage laurels. When girls are around sometimes boys, especially if one has a crush on one of the girls, will do something stupid to try impress her.

Just then someone said I bet you can't make it to the middle rock in the rapids. I don't remember who said it but in Dave's quest to impress Laura he jumped on the bet, and said, "I could do it, no problem."

There was one large rock in the middle of the river with five or six smaller rocks just above the surface of the rapids leading out to it. In theory if someone stood on the first smaller rock, they may be able to jump from one to another and reach the large rock near the middle. There were two long jumps at the end and the rocks were all wet and slippery. I guess when you're a kid you think If somehow you accomplished this silly meaningless exploit, it would be quite an achievement and something other kids our age would talk about for weeks. Only Pete spoke up with a glimmer of common sense and said, "Dave don't do that the rapids are too strong and the last two rocks are too far apart." However with Laura sitting on the bank nearby, Pete's words fell on deaf ears.

As soon as Dave announced he was going to do it we all got out of the water and moved down stream about twenty five yards closer to where the first rock emerged. We all sat on a high spot atop the river bank to get a better view. As Dave waded out to the first rock Pete called out with one last attempt to dissuade him from trying to perform this pointless stunt. Then Rick, Dave's brother also tried to convince him to give up this crazy scheme, but Dave was determined.

Dave was a happy easy going kid and everyone liked him. I only knew him for a couple of weeks at that point but we became good friends, and during that time I never once saw him show off or do anything to make himself the center of attention. Until that day.

As Dave waded out to the first rock, the rapids even this close to shore made it hard for him to position himself to make his first leap. Finally after a few failed attempts to hoist himself up on the slippery surface he finally made it and was standing straight up on rock number one. A couple of guys from Texas started to cheer and chanted go Dave. Rick and Pete just shook their heads and said they hoped he knew what he was doing. I was sitting on the bank just watching the show with Doro. Then I yelled out "Dave, don't do it that's enough, come on back!" I'm sure he heard me but he never responded, as he started to make the leap from rock one to the second rock about four feet away.

Luckily he made the first jump. The guys from Texas and Laura's friend all gave him a cheer and a short round of applause. Now he was set for his attempt to make it to rock three a longer jump than the next stop on the quest. At this point Laura yelled "Dave forget it, just come back." No response from Dave as he leaped to rock three and quickly onto four and landed like a guy on the high wire. His next hurdle was a much longer leap to the last small rock before the large one in the middle of the river.

I don't know why, but sometimes you can just get a feeling when something bad is going to happen. As soon as Dave was in the air I knew he wasn't going to make it, and I was right. He hit the rock and bounced off it like a Salmon trying to swim upstream, the rapids yanked him under in less than a second. We all yelled his name as Laura and her friend started screaming. I saw his head pop back up for just a second and I think I heard him yell help.

Just then Doro went flying by me at full speed and jumped into the raging river. Labs are great swimmers but they're no match for the Verde rapids on that day. Before we knew it both Doro and Dave were flying down the river like two small corks bouncing over the waves. We all ran downstream too help them. When I got to the next bend in the river I could see them together with Dave holding on to Doro. Just then they both hit a round rock on the river bank. Dave was able to claw his way out of the water up the steep rock, but Doro was swept downstream. The river bank was full of brush and trees so it was hard getting through to attempt a rescue. So it took Pete, Rick and me a few minutes to get to Dave.

When we got to him his face and hands were cut and bleeding but not seriously. He was out of breath, coughing up river water and couldn't stand. He said he was okay and Rick and the other guys were going to take him home.

Pete and I and Mike Risk a small kid from Oklahoma, started downstream to get Doro. We were having a hard go at it because of all the brush and low hanging trees all along the river. We kept calling Doro's name but the rapids were so loud it would have been hard even for a dog to hear us. There wasn't a sign of him as we kept moving down stream. I kept thinking I would see him shaking off the water standing on the side of the river at every bend, but no such luck. We must have walked a couple of miles downstream as it started to get dark. I knew it was a long way back but if we found Doro it would have all been worth it. When we came to the route 89 bridge we decided we needed to go back to camp before it got too dark. We were a couple of miles downstream from the camp by this time.

The three of us climbed up from the river on to the road, wet, tired and with scratches all over us from the brush. I knew Pete and I were going to follow the river no matter what but I was surprised Mike from Oklahoma stayed with us all the way. It wasn't his dog but he did all he could to help us look for him.

The walk back to camp on route 89 was a long one for three tired guys, but a better path than following the river bank. We were only on the road for about fifteen minutes when Mom and Dad pulled up in the truck. They said Rick told them what happened. Dad said it was too late now to look for Doro but if he is not back by morning both he and Mom were going to help us search tomorrow.

Mom said that Dave wasn't feeling well so his father took him to a doctor in Cottonwood. They're back home now and he'll be okay but he needs to rest for a day or two. He told her that Doro saved his life. He said he was out of breath and going under when he grabbed Doro, and the dog pulled him to shore. He would have never made it on his own.

Even though I was dog tired (no pun intended.) I didn't sleep well that night. I kept wondering if my dog was still alive and if so where was he?

The next morning we were all up early and ready to continue searching. Mom wouldn't let anyone leave until we had a good breakfast. As we were eating Dave, Rick and Mike showed up. They said they were going with us to help search for our missing Lab.

Mom asked Dave how he was feeling and told him he should be in bed resting. Dave told her with tears in his eyes he was sorry for what happened and it was his fault Doro is missing. He wanted to do whatever he could to help us find him. He said, "That dog saved my life yesterday so I will do whatever I have to for as long as it takes to find him."

Then Dad laid out a search plan. He said, "Mom and I will drive down to Camp Verde about 12 miles down route 260. We'll check with people to see if anyone saw him and put up a few posters I made last night. I posted a $50.00 reward, so I think that will motivate some people along the river to keep their eyes peeled. He must be downstream some place, so we will break up into three teams. Pete and Rick why don't we drop you off by the bridge on 89? You guys continue to follow the river downstream. You may meet some fishermen along the river so tell them to keep their eyes open and don't forget to mention the reward. Mike and John we will drop you two off a little further down on route 260. Mom and I will start in Camp Verde. I will walk up stream to meet John and Mike. Mom will hand out my hand written posters in the town then take the truck north on route 260 to meet us at the little rest stop a few miles upstream. Dave can you follow the stream a little ways down from where you last saw him yesterday? Then it would be good if you stayed here in case he returns. Dave I know you want to help but you went through a lot yesterday so by staying nearby today it will help us and give you a chance to rest. If we don't find him today we will need you fresh and rested for tomorrow."

Everyone agreed with the plan. This was my Dad at his best organizing people to accomplish a task, and making sure everyone knew their roles. Mom told me he stayed up half the night making posters to hand out with the reward information. Somehow I knew we would find him and everything would be okay.

We finished breakfast and we all piled into the truck. Dave was holding the fort back at camp and keeping his eyes open. We all knew where and when to meet, and hopefully one of us would have a Yellow Lab on a leash before the end of the day.

Mike Risk and I were a good team. I never met anyone from Oklahoma before, but if they were all like him it must have been a nice place to live before the dust bowl. As we were walking he told me about the dust bowl and how his parents were share croppers. He said things were fine until the dust hit two years ago. His family lost everything, without a crop they had nothing. They were on their way to California to start over when their truck broke down in Flagstaff. Someone told his dad he may be able to get work at the mine in Jerome so here they are. They didn't have enough money to get an apartment or continue to California, so they have been staying at the camp for last four months. Mike his two little sisters, his Mom and Dad all living in a tiny camp cabin that Mr. Chaoma let them have for almost nothing. His dad works part-time for Phelps Dodge repairing trucks and mining equipment. His mom helps the Chaomas with some cleaning around the camp, which helps pay for their camp site.

When Mike told me this I couldn't help but think about my own life. We have a five bed room house overlooking the Hudson River in New York. Get to go into New York City to see the Yankees play ten or twelve times a year. See movies every Saturday at the Peekskill Paramount and eat at Nonno's and Nonna's restaurant whenever we want. I don't think Mike ever ate in a restaurant, perhaps he saw a few movies, but I know he never saw a big league baseball game. Somehow this seamed unfair. Now he was helping me look for my dog in 100 degree heat, walking through thick brush and getting all scratched and scraped and he wasn't asking for a single thing in return. I only met him a few weeks ago but you would think he had been my friend forever.

The day was hot and slow going. Occasionally Mike and I would walk in the river to cool off. By noon we had been walking for over four hours when we finally met my dad walking upstream to meet us. We all knew without saying a word none of us saw any sign of him. We were hot and tired so we went back to the road and waited for Mom to pick us up. All I could think of was I hope Pete, Rick and Dave have better luck.

When we got in the truck mom knew we weren't successful. We drove a few miles and picked up Rick and Dave and they didn't see any sigh of him either. They told us they ran into a couple of fisherman and gave them the reward information but no luck. Dad told us there was no point walking the river bank tomorrow. He felt we should drive down on route 260 and hand out some more flyers.

For the next two days we handed out flyers and searched on route 89 and 260 hoping he would appear. He had been missing since Tuesday and by Friday night it seemed hopeless. Dad told us we would have to leave in couple of days and head south to Phoenix. We had been here almost four weeks and it was time to move on.

That night I couldn't sleep because I was really mad at Dave for causing all of this with his stupidity. For the last two days all I thought about was finding Doro, but now that things seemed bleak I started to think about the guy that caused all of this, Dave. I know he felt bad and for the last two days he really tried to help us find him, but I was still mad. I kept think about how Doro jumped into the river and saved Dave. I really didn't think he would do something like that. It was all part of the change that came over him during the trip. Part of me wished he would have remained that silly playful puppy and would have never left the river bank that day. Nevertheless, I was really glad he saved Dave, even though I will never see him again. Finally I fell asleep still upset about all that had happen.

It was about 5:00 am the next morning and not even light out yet, when I heard a noise outside the trailer. You had to be a little careful in this part of Arizona because of bears, bobcats and even the occasional mountain lion that could be snooping around camp early in the morning. Then I heard some scratching at the door. Pete woke up as the scratching got a little louder. So we carefully went to the door to see what it was. There he was panting slightly, covered with mud and dirt. It was Doro, he looked more like a chocolate lab than a Yellow lab but who cares, because he seemed to be fine. Perhaps a few pounds lighter but fine. I hugged him as Pete ran to wake Mom and Dad. In a few minutes we were all up petting him and looking him over to make sure he wasn't hurt. He just seemed hungry so Mom gave him some dog food and water. I don't think I was ever so happy in my life, and that joy all came from looking at that muddy dog. I really thought I would never see him again. I couldn't help wonder where he had been for the last three days, but I guess that's something we will never know.

Within a few hours everyone in the camp knew. Dave, Rick and Mike were the first to stop by. Dave told us how glad he was that he came home, and again how sorry he was for what happened. I immediately forgot all about how mad I was at Dave. All I thought about now was how glad I was I got my dog back.

After we washed and brushed him, Dad thought it would be a good idea to take him to the vet in Sedona. Just to make sure he was okay. The vet told us he was fine and to just let him rest for a couple of days.

That Monday morning we were leaving Cottonwood and heading south to Phoenix. We had been in Cottonwood just over four weeks. In some ways it felt shorter but in others I felt like I lived here for a long time. Pete and I made friends with a great bunch of guys. I'll never forget Dave and Rick Chaoma, and Mike Risk. We hit it off right away with Dave and Rick, but I didn't get to really know Mike until that day he walked the river bank with me in search of Doro. I guess looking back on it some good did come from Doro being lost for those three days. I got to really know a great guy from Oklahoma, and I really started to understand just how lucky I was to have the family and life I have.

As we were about ready to drive out Dave and Rick and their parents came over to wish us goodbye. Mr. Chaoma handed Dad something wrapped up in newspaper as he shook his hand. When Dad took off the newspaper we were all amazed at what we saw. Mr. Chaoma carved a wood sculpture of Doro. It was about eight inches high and twelve inches long. Carved out of one solid block of bass wood. The attention to detail was amazing. The base said "Doro" and the sculpture was stained to almost his exact color. Carved on the bottom was "Thank you for saving our son. We will never forget you. The Chaomas."

Even though we only knew these people for four weeks it was really hard to say goodbye. Mike Risk and his parents came over to see us off. We all thanked Mike for all his help in the search. My dad told Mr. Risk he has a really great boy in Mike.

As we were driving south I didn't realize it at the time but my dad did a lot more during that four weeks in Cottonwood then I knew. A few days later Mom told me his firm was investing in Phelps-Dodge. So he convinced the manager of the Jerome mine to give Mr. Risk a full-time job. Then a few days after we left someone from a real estate firm contacted Mr. Risk and helped him and his family get a nice apartment in Jerome. The first month's rent and security was covered by the mine so they could move in right away. Now Mike and his two little sisters could finally move out of that old tiny cabin before winter hits the high country.

Dad worked with the state of Arizona, Phelps-Dodge and his firm Davis-Brown to provide money for a small recreation center near the camp in Cottonwood. Mr. Chaoma became the recreation director for the town. The town would get a decent ball field and the kids of Cottonwood would have a place to go after school and on weekends. They would even show movies in the new hall once a week.

Shortly after the field and rec building were constructed Mr. Chaoma received a shipment of sporting goods. There were a dozen bats, baseball gloves, a case of baseballs, with some footballs and basketballs along other sporting goods. These were all paid for by my dad. He called grandpa in New York and gave him the assignment of ordering the equipment and having the shipment sent to Cottonwood, Arizona while we were on the road heading towards Phoenix.

# Chapter 8: Let's continue reading this tomorrow.

It was almost 5:00 pm Saturday evening when Nancy finished reading the sixth chapter of Dad's book. When Judy said, "Why don't we continue reading it tomorrow?"

"That's a good idea Judy." Nancy said, "There is nothing to do here until Gary comes on Tuesday to move the rest of the furniture. Let's meet at my house tomorrow? Don you should stay with us tonight."

"Yea that's a good idea Nancy, thanks, I'll follow you to your house." I said while holding the 79 year old wood carving of Doro, which had been sitting on Dad's desk for as long as I could remember. We were told the story a number of times about the origin of this fine carving, but somehow reading about it now really brought it to life. "Judy you should have this carving of the dog. You're the oldest. Do you agree Nancy?"

"Yes, Judy you should have it." Nancy replied.

"Oh are you both sure?"

We both told her we were, and I said, "I'm sure Rob would agree." One of us had to take this nice piece of folk art. It seemed only right it should go to the oldest in the family. None of us ever saw Doro, he died before we were born. For years we heard stories about this wonder dog and how he saved a drowning Navajo boy. After hearing the story again I somehow felt I knew him. The way the wood was sculpted it almost felt like fur in my hands. It's hard to believe anyone could carve this in just a few days with this level of detail.

"Oh let me copy this book on to my laptop." I said. "We need to have a backup copy incase anything happens to this old computer. I'll down load it to a flash drive and make you both a copy. I'll send one to Rob as well."

The next day we met for lunch at Nancy's house. After lunch Judy took over reading the rest of the book. I wouldn't take a turn reading because I'm slightly dyslexic and have always tried to hide it, so I never read aloud. My self-appointed assignment is opening and pouring the wine after lunch, and listen to the rest of the story.

# Chapter 9: On the road to Phoenix and Los Angles, August 1, 1936.

After saying our goodbyes to a great bunch of folks in Cottonwood that Saturday morning, we were on the road again, destination Phoenix Arizona. It was August 1st and as we traveled south the elevation kept dropping but the temperature kept rising. 1936 was one of the hottest summers on record in most parts of the US. We thought we went through the worst of it in the Midwest with record temperatures over 100 every day for two weeks. However, in Phoenix if temperatures only reach 100 by midday during August it's considered a cold spell. Even thought it was hot the truck wasn't over heating because we were slowly descending with gravity at our back most of the way. Saguaro cactus started to appear as we got close to Phoenix. They looked like old cowboys waving to us as we entered the Sonoran desert.

We heard on the radio that the summer Olympics were starting today in Berlin. There was a lot of talk about how important the Olympics were to Germany. Their leader Adolf Hitler wanted to show the world that the Aryan race as they called it, was superior. After Max Schmeling knocked out Joe Lewis I guess Hitler wanted to show the world it wasn't just a one-time event. He wanted the world to know they were superior or as he put it the master race. I didn't understand at the time what this was leading up to but I would surely find out so, I guess we all would.

When we arrived in Phoenix it was 3:00 pm and I saw a thermometer next to a bank that read 106 degrees. Because Dad only planned to stay in Phoenix a few days he decided we all needed a break from camping. So we checked into the Arizona Biltmore Hotel. It was an incredible hotel more like an oasis in the desert, it had a large swimming pool and the grounds were green and beautiful. It was owned by the Wrigley family the barons of the chewing gum world. As Pete and I explored this giant hotel I kept thinking of how may sticks of chewing gum they must have had to sell to pay for a place like this.

After a month at a campground in Cottonwood this was a real treat. Pete and I spent the next two days at the pool. On Monday Dad had a meeting with some men from Goodyear Tire. When Goodyear had its initial public offering in 1927 Dad advised his firm to buy Goodyear stock. Then in 1929 he shorted the stock when he felt the US stock market was overpriced. This was a tough call to make and many people were second guessing him for shorting the stock even within his own firm. Last year Goodyear already the largest tire company in the world purchased Kelly-Springfield Tire Company. So Davis Brown Investments, on Dad's advice starting buying their stock again.

Goodyear Tire was so big and powerful it created its own town just outside Phoenix to grow cotton, an important component in manufacturing tires. Dad wanted to see this operation first hand before recommending any additional investments. This time both Pete and I went on the tour with him. Mom wanted to stay at the Biltmore pool and finish reading her new book, "Gone with the Wind".

The Goodyear cotton tour was very interesting. It was even more interesting to watch my dad working with Goodyear executives. Earlier this year there was a major strike in Akron Ohio known as the rubber capital of the world. The strike effected all the major players in the manufacturing of tires, Goodyear, Firestone, General and Goodrich. Dad wanted some assurance that the strike was behind them before he committed to an all-out buy signal for Davis Brown and it clients. He told us later that if the strike was behind them it would be a great time to buy Goodyear stock. There was pent-up US demand for tires on everything from trucks, cars, planes and even tractors. Partly because of the recent strike, but also the economy was starting to show signs of a recovery.

It was fun being around Dad and learning how the investment business works. When we were living in New York we never had the opportunity to be with him at work. He always worked long hours during the week so sometimes we didn't see him until the weekend. Even then on Saturday mornings he would often work at home analyzing data for the next week.

When we got back to the Biltmore late that afternoon, Dad took the time to explain to us what he was doing. He told us as an investor it was important to get to know and see the companies you are investing it. He explained. "You always need to do your research. Understand the company's business, their financial position and never be afraid to ask questions. The only dumb question is the one never asked."

The next morning we were on the road again this time heading to Los Angles. I had never seen the Pacific Ocean and it was something I had been looking forward to on this trip.

On the way we stopped and spent the night in Palm Springs. I didn't know much about Palm Springs only that I heard a lot of the movie stars had second homes here, it was small town but growing fast in 1936.

Once again we stayed in a hotel "The Orchard Tree Inn" nothing like the Biltmore but still a nice place and best of all like the Biltmore it had a pool. I could really get use to this after six weeks of camping.

Dad was interested in a construction project that was taking place just outside the center of town. They were building the "Palm Springs Plaza". It was one of the first self-contained shopping centers ever built in the U.S. When we arrived it was still a few months from completion. There were plans for over 35 stores, a movie theater, restaurants and even underground parking.

Dad wasn't involved in this project although he thought the concept of a shopping plaza was an interesting idea, one that might catch on in other localities. As we walked around Dad explained. "Things were changing in America. Now people have more freedom to travel because of the automobile. Today most people still live and shop in cities but as cities become crowded people will move to the suburbs. More people will commute by train or drive to work and this concept of shopping plazas in the suburbs could really catch on."

I think one of the main ingredients in my Dad's success as an investor was he constantly thought about the future. Always analyzing possible investments that could become profitable forthcoming. At times, like today he would just observe something and store it in his memory as a potential investment opportunity. He was always trying to instill in Pete and me the importance of planning and thinking ahead in life. Not just for the purposes of making money and in investing, but in everything we did. He would say, "Think ahead and make every move count." Because he knew we loved and understood baseball he would equate life lessons in baseball terms for us. When explaining risk taking in life, whether it be in investing money, deciding which class to take in high school or later a career decision in life. He would say. "Always think ahead. Evaluate the hitter based on past performance and ask yourself where do I threw the ball if it's hit to me? When in doubt always try to get the sure out first." This was his way of illustrating do your homework and when in doubt make sure you accomplish the main objective first. If we were working on something he always wanted us to make sure we did a quality job and not rush to finish it by cutting corners. "Make sure you always look the ball all the way into the glove before you start to throw". He would say as the analogy used in demonstrating to us, we need to do the job right before we move on to the next thing. "Don't try to rush the throw because you could miss the ball altogether. "

Both he and my mom always wanted us to think about life in simple, basic and honest terms. The best results in life come from working hard and doing a quality honest job they would tell us. Mom always said. "Make sure you treat people as you would want them to treat you. Don't prejudge someone based on where they come from or based on their looks or race. Make sure you respect every individual".

These may sound like simple or even naïve parental directives, but when you consider what was going on in the world in 1936, I think it was valuable advice to give two young boys. In Germany at the time they had a leader who felt his people were the master race, in some southern states in the US the KKK were still a powerful group that seemed to get away with murder at times. I can't help but think if these people had parents like Pete and I had the world would be a better place.

As we left Palm Springs and headed on to our first look at the Pacific Ocean, I started thinking about our journey. I really enjoyed the time I was spending with Mom, Dad and Pete as we crossed the country. It seemed like I was getting the chance to really know and understand my parents. With Dad and Mom both working much of the time and with Pete and I being in school, we never spent this much time together just talking.

For some reason I started to think about why we were taking this trip. I guess in hind sight it may seem hard to believe we had been on the road for about seven weeks, and just now I started thinking about why were we doing this? So as we were heading to Los Angles I asked. "Why are we really doing this?"

"Doing what sweet heart?" Mom replied.

"Why are we taking this year long trip?"

"Well we aren't sure it will be a year, we'll see how it goes." Dad said.

Then Mom insisted, "Jake we need to discuss this openly with the boys now."

"Sure that's fine Marie. Why don't you start?"

"Well about six months ago the doctor told Dad he needed a rest and had to get away from Wall Street for a while."

"Is Dad sick?" Pete asked in a surprised tone.

"Well not really but the stress of his job has caused him to have some chest pains. It may be nothing but the doctor made him quit smoking and gave him some pills. He has been feeling much better since we left the stress of New York behind us. Isn't that right Jake?"

"Oh yes, yes I have been feeling fine."

"The other reason, and I know we discuss this some in New York was we felt it would be a good education for both of you before you got into high school. We wanted you both not just to read about the harsh conditions our country is going through in this depression, we wanted you to live it as well. We're very fortunate in all we have back home, but I think we'll all appreciate it more after this trip. Don't you think so?

Pete said. "I know I do already. When I think of Mike Risk and his family living together in a tiny cabin, and then I think of our house in New York. I will always remember him and his family. My bed room back home is bigger than the cabin they're living in."

"I will too. I read about the dust bowl and somehow I thought it was just dust. I couldn't believe it when I saw dirt piled up all the way to the roof on some houses in Oklahoma. I will always remember those tractors buried in the fields and those people in trucks alongside the road, they lost everything." I said.

"Yea I'll never forget the look on the faces of those kids on the back of that truck. They really looked scared." Pete recalled.

"You see guys, we are all learning from this trip. Both Mom and I need to be reminded of how lucky we are as well. Believe me sometimes we all take things for granted. I was getting so tied up in work I was losing sight of just how important the time we have together. Grandpa once said it all goes by in a blink of an eye. So I thought no better way to spend time together than taking a trip like this. Not only are we all together but we are being reminded everyday just how lucky we are to have what we have. I really believe this experience will change us all for the better." Dad said.

We were only about an hour from Los Angles and no one said much after that. I think we were all just thinking about what we had experienced over the last few weeks. When over the radio came the news that Jesse Owens won his second gold medal in Berlin. He won the broad jump today and won the 100 meter race yesterday.

We all started talking about the Olympics and how this must have upset Hitler. A black American had won two medals and he may win more. We didn't know it at the time but he would go on to win two more gold medals later in the week to become one of the greatest Olympians of all time.

Dad told us he was very concerned about what was going on in Europe. Italy had just invaded Ethiopia and last month a civil war broke out in Spain. He explained that Europe was becoming less stable and with Hitler in Germany, Mussolini in Italy and Stalin in Russia a large scale war could start at any time. He said he was glad the Atlantic Ocean separated us from Europe.

Just then bang, we got our first flat tire. It was the left front on the trailer. We pulled over and Pete and Dad went into action. These two guys could change a flat tire almost as fast as Lou Meyer's pit crew did it at the Indianapolis 500. Both Pete and Dad were naturally mechanically inclined. They were always working on something, so in just a few minutes we were back on the road.

At noon we were in Los Angeles. This was kind of exciting. The Pacific Ocean and the home of the movie stars! As we were going along at our typical 45 miles per hour pace we were passed by a new Cord, then a few minutes later a Duesenberg flew by going well over 70. These were the kinds of cars you very rarely see in New York. Pete and I were wondering if they were movie stars, but they were going too fast to be identified. One thing for sure this was a real car town. The closer to the coast we traveled the more congested the traffic was getting.

We finally got to the end, the Pacific Ocean at Santa Monica Pier. It was really something to see a pier that extends about a thousand feet into the Pacific Ocean. It even had its own amusement park hanging over the beach.

As soon as we stopped and parked, which was no easy task for a truck and trailer in Los Angeles. Pete and I sprinted across the beach to be the first one in the Pacific. I was a fast runner but Pete always beat me by a few steps. We both lost to Doro who flew by both of us and jumped into the waves head first. There was something about the Pacific's water that seemed different than the Atlantic where we lived. It seemed warmer and the beaches were larger and brighter with soft white sand.

Los Angles was a large sprawling city. There was a lot to see but we only stayed a few days. One day at the beach the next day just driving around the city. We saw the large Hollywood sign on the hill and followed a map of the movie stars homes. It was a fun three days.

# Chapter 10: Leaving L.A. and heading for the Deep South August 9, 1936.

On Sunday morning August 9th we left L.A. and were heading back east. As we were leaving California I thought this is one place I would really like to visit again someday. Our new destination was Athens Georgia, a long haul over 2,300 miles.

Athens is a small collage town in the Deep South. Dad had some friends at the University he wanted to visit. His firm had been working with several universities as the investment advisor for their endowments for a number of years. Even through the depression these endowments held up reasonably well under Davis Brown.

We would be heading back on route 66 until we hit Oklahoma City and then take route 64 to Georgia. This meant another depressing ride through the dust bowl.

The traffic was lighter on route 66 going east then it was when we were heading west. There seemed to be a different type of traveler going east. Traffic moved faster, anxious to reach their destination. The traffic going west was slower with uncertainty as to what lies ahead. The trucks going east had fruit and vegetables moving fast to avoid spoilage, the truck going west had families with broken dreams and were prodding slowly along. The cars going east were newer and clean with nothing strapped to their roofs. The ones heading west were dusty carrying loads that far exciding their normal capacity.

As I watched the traffic I understood what was happening on route 66. East bound traffic carried goods and services for rebuilding America. West bound traffic borne displaced families rebuilding their lives. I wouldn't have understood this a month ago. Now after seeing the dust bowl and meeting some of the people who lived through it was only too clear.

As we retraced our route from several days ago our pace seemed to be much quicker. This is one of the oddities in life I never understood. When going somewhere the journey always seems longer than when you are returning even on the same route. The desert was just as hot but for some reason it seemed cooler to me. Perhaps I was getting used to it or it had something to do with heading east, towards home again.

I still didn't fully understand the grand plan. Both Pete and I were under the impression that we were going to stay on the road for a year. That's why Mom brought our school books for the ninth grade with us on this trip. Both Mom and Dad were very open in some ways about the trip, but I was still confused about the duration. When I asked Mom she would just say we were playing it by ear. There was no set plan it seemed, she said Dad had some things he wanted to research for work such as the coal mine in Scranton, the copper mine in Jerome, the cotton fields for tires in Goodyear, and now some university relations work in Athens. It wasn't like she was keeping something from us. It was just an uncomfortable feeling when you are not sure what lies ahead. So far my whole life had some kind of general plan. Go to school, play baseball on weekends, eat dinner at five with Grandma and Grandpa, visit Nonno and Nonna every week etc. Now it was open, some may say free but I wasn't use to living like this. I didn't worry too much however because I was with my parents, Pete and Doro.

We drove all day on route 66 and made a slight detour north to the Grand Canyon. It was dusk when we arrived at Grand Canyon Village. It was a spectacular sight from the south rim as the sun set and changed the layers of rock and earth into these amazing colors. Even as a kid of just fourteen who's main interest was baseball, this was an incredible experience. We ate dinner that night at El Tovar lodge, and stayed in the park campground.

The next afternoon we were back on route 66 heading east. The following day we made another slight detour to the city of Santa Fe, New Mexico. This was a really nice place, and I knew it would be the last pleasant stop before we hit the dust bowl in Texas and Oklahoma. I know my parents realized it as well so we stayed in a nice hotel in the city plaza. After lunch the next day we were on the road heading towards the dust bowl.

Driving through the Texas panhandle and Oklahoma was still depressing but not as shocking as it was when I first saw it. We saw families still heading west. Even though I knew these were different families they still looked the same, lost and scared. For the next two days as we headed east it was far from pleasant but I somehow seemed to grow stronger or perhaps tougher as we rolled through this ravished land for a second time.

When we got to Oklahoma City we got off route 66 and took route 64 into the Deep South. Which was the gate way to another one of life's experiences, one I didn't understand at first. The civil war had been over for almost seventy years. In New York it was a war that most people didn't talk about much or even think about in 1936. However, in the Deep South it was still something that seemed to be on people's minds. The first thing I noticed as we drove through Arkansas was that some places still had confederate flags flying. I saw a number of them in front of businesses and private homes. Oddly I never saw an American flag.

Then things got really strange. I had to use the restroom at a service station in Little Rock when I saw two signs "Men's White" and "Men's Colored". At first I wasn't sure what it meant. Quickly Pete explained it to me in a quiet voice. "John down here colored people can't use the same restrooms as we do". This seemed hard to believe, we didn't have anything like that in New York. Why would it matter I thought? Then I noticed a sign in a store window "We cater to white trade only".

When we got back in the truck I asked Mom and Dad what this meant. Mom explained there was something called the Jim Crow laws in some southern states. It kept white people and colored people apart in places like restaurants, hotels, even things like restrooms and drinking fountains were divided. Even though the north won the civil war, the south still did not treat colored people as equals. They seemed to somehow get around the federal laws that were meant to treat all people equal. They enacted these Jim Crow laws and claimed that they were treating people equal but only keeping them separate. However, when seeing this is reality anyone could clearly distinguish that the colored sections were far inferior to the white sections. In some cases there were no colored facilities even available.

After a brief stop in Little Rock for gas and food we were headed to Hot Springs, Arkansas, where Mom's cousin owns an Italian restaurant. The drive was only about ninety minutes and it gave me some time to think about what I just saw in Little Rock.

It was becoming evident as we traveled just how dissimilar America could be. People were treated different in some parts of the country based on their skin color, or where they came from. Just a few months ago I thought everyone in the country was treated alike, although to be honest I didn't give it much thought. Now it became clear that was not the case and I had no idea. I remember reading in school about the cast system in India and think how lucky we were to live in America, but in some ways I was seeing a type of cast system here as well. Perhaps not nearly as severe as what I read about in India but still a type of cast system none the less.

In India they have a class called the Sudra. These people can only be servants or laborers. They even have a class below the Sudra that some call the untouchables, they do even lower jobs like sweeping the streets or cleaning restrooms. The upper classes will not even touch them. While I didn't see these extremes in America, it still struck me as odd that most American Indians live on reservations, black people have to use separate restrooms and have to ride in the back of the bus in some southern states. These were things I found surprising and very troubling. Things I never thought about living in New York.

Early that evening we arrived in Hot Springs. Because we were all hungry our first stop was Mom's cousin Angelo's restaurant the "Bella Villa". Angelo and his wife Valentina were so happy to see us. They even insisted we bring Doro in and gave him a bowl of meat balls in the back of the restaurant. I don't know if it was just because I was so hungry, but this was the best Italian food I ever had. I wouldn't tell my grandparents about this back in New York.

None of us knew a great deal about the city of Hot Springs when we arrived. I remember hearing that back in the 1920s it was the spring training home for a number of major league baseball teams, but now they have all moved to Florida.

Angelo and Valentina joined us for dinner, and told us all about Hot Springs. Angelo explained. "The city has a row of bath houses and people come from all over the world to bath in the waters. Many people feel these waters have amazing healing powers."

"A lot of famous people come here for the springs and sometimes they stop in for dinner." Valentina said proudly. "However there are other people who visit the city we are not proud of mentioning, and they come in for dinner sometimes as well. When we first opened Al Capone use to come in for dinner, but he's in jail now. Still a few of his associates come in fairly regularly when they're in town. They never cause a problem and they are all big tippers."

"Even though the city is controlled by organized crime, they're only interested in the casinos. This part of the city is very safe. I think people know better than to cause any problems in this part of town. Around here the mob makes sure there is no crime, criminals would rather deal with the police in another part of city." Angelo told us.

Dad explained that we are just passing through and can only stay for two nights. Valentina insisted we stay with them. They had a really nice house just outside town. I only met Angelo and Valentina once before and they were such great people. I'm really glad we got to see them again.

We spent the next day just walking around the town. We saw the bath house row, but none of us had an interest of going in. To be honest the whole bath house thing just seemed strange to Pete and me. Mom and Dad didn't seem interested in it either. We saw the casinos from the outside and they looked peaceful enough in the day time. We went back to the house before dark because we planned to leave early in the morning.

The next morning we had breakfast with Angelo and Valentina and thanked them for everything. By 9:00 am we were on the road again heading for Athens. It was about a 650 mile drive so it would take us two days.

As we drove through Arkansas, Mississippi and Alabama you couldn't help but notice how pretty and green things were. Unlike the dust bowl in Oklahoma and Texas a few days ago. However, at every stop this Jim Crow thing kept turning up. It was just something none of us would ever get used to. There were signs at almost every stop reminding us that we were in the Deep South. For me this kind of ruined the beauty of the south and somehow tarnished a lovely place.

As we were driving through Mississippi it dawned on me that even in New York we had some Jim Crow. I was thinking about baseball. There has never been a black ball player in the major leagues. It's can't be because of a Jim Crow law, most of the teams are in the northeast. The two most southern teams were the St Louis Browns and the Cardinals, and even they were way north of here. When I asked Mom and Dad why baseball was like this they weren't sure either. Dad just said the owners of the teams just seem to want it that way. He agreed it didn't make sense.

I knew there was a Negro league and Grandpa once told me that some of those players were as good as the ones in the majors. This didn't make sense to me. Why not get the best players, who cares what color their skin is as long as they can play. I thought the most important thing was winning. They don't play major league baseball in the Deep South, so what's stopping them? This whole thing was confusing. A few weeks ago everyone was cheering Jessie Owens for wining gold in the Olympics, two months ago everyone felt bad when Schmeling knocked out Joe Lewis. No one in the newspapers or on the radio seemed concerned with their color then. They were just two guys representing America. So why don't other black people get a chance to play baseball? I guess I have a lot to learn.

# Chapter 11: Athens, Georgia August 20, 1936.

Just a few miles from Athens the truck started to lose power. Then smoke started billowing from the engine as the sound of the exhaust increased dramatically. As we pulled off the road both Pete and Dad agreed it looked like the head gasket was blown. It was running well enough to make it to Athens but wasn't going to go much further. I know both Pete and Dad would have loved to start taking the head off and make the repair themselves. However without the proper tools and a new gasket we had to find a repair shop.

We located a Dodge dealer in town before the engine started overheating. The service manager said it would take a few days for them to get to it. It was late Thursday afternoon and it wouldn't be ready until Tuesday afternoon at the earliest.

So we left the truck and trailer at the dealer and looked for a place to stay on foot. Luckily just up the street we found a boarding house that had available rooms and even let us keep Doro in our room. It wasn't too far from town so we could walk to most things.

The next day Mom and Dad went to see Dad's friend at the University of Georgia. So Pete and I took Doro and decided to throw the ball around in a nearby vacant lot. This was the first time in weeks I had my hands on a baseball and it really felt good. As we were playing a game of flies up two black kids asked if they could play.

I said. "Sure we can always use a few more ball players. I'm John Wood and this is my brother Pete."

"I'm Jimmy Carpenter and this is my brother Rubin." Replied the smaller guy.

Jimmy was the younger of the two, about our age and I could tell quickly he was a good athlete. He seemed like a nice kid and a real talker. Rubin was a couple of years older. A quiet kid with thick glasses. He wasn't much of a ball player but you could tell very quickly he was very smart.

The four of us played ball most of that day and quickly became friends. They were amazed when Pete and I told them we were from New York and had been traveling in truck with a trailer for the last two months. They were so amazed they wanted to see it, so we all walked to the Dodge dealer where it was waiting to be repaired. Rubin had a ton of questions mostly about living in New York. Neither of them had ever be outside of Georgia and only left Athens on a few rare occasions. Their father died two years ago and they're living with their mother and grandparents.

Rubin told us his dream was to get a job in New York City and work on Wall Street. When we told him our Dad was a Vice President in a Wall Street financial firm he couldn't believe it.

Rubin said he would really like to speak to Dad about what it was like working on Wall Street. Pete said,"No problem. I know he would be glad to talk to you. Mom and Dad are at the university today but should be back shortly. Why don't you come over and meet them."

When we talked about Dad, Rubin seemed so interested he acted like Pete and I did when we were going to see Jimmy Foxx for the first time. I always felt Dad was the best but I never met a kid who seemed so interested in meeting him as Rubin. I kind of felt proud like our dad was a celebrity.

When we got to the boarding house Jimmy and Rubin stopped at the gate in the front yard. Rubin said. "Jimmy and I will wait here."

"Come on in I'm sure they're home by now." I told them.

"No we can't go in, do you think he would mind talking to us out here?"

By now starting to get a little less naïve. I realized rather quickly what Rubin was saying. This was a white boarding house, and he knew he wasn't allowed to go in. It seemed astonishing to me that a boarding house would allow Doro to stay in a room but not Jimmy or Rubin.

I could tell they were both feeling uncomfortable. So I said. "No problem guys. I'll see if they're here."

I ran up to the room and Mom and Dad had just returned. I explained to Dad about Rubin and Jimmy and how Rubin wanted to meet him. He said he would be glad to talk to him and asked me to tell them he would be right down.

Pete stayed outside with Doro, Jimmy and Rubin. When I told Rubin he would be right down and would be glad to talk to him, he started smiling from ear to ear.

When Dad arrived he shook hands with both of them. Rubin told him he had a million questions. Dad said he would be glad to try to answer everyone for as long as it takes, and suggest we all go over to a nearby park.

We all sat on the park lawn. Rubin was asking Dad all about investing in stocks, bonds and what it was like to work on Wall Street. Some of his questions were too technical for me. So after about a half hour Jimmy, Pete and I decided to throw the ball around, while Rubin and Dad talked.

When we got back to the room Dad told us how impressed he was with Rubin. He asked good questions and he was very bright, an honor student every year in high school. He's a senior this year and wants to go to college but wasn't sure if he could afford it.

"I think he has some real potential, perhaps we can do something to help him when we get back home. I know George (Mr. Davis of Davis Brown) has been talking about a scholarship program and getting some summer interns." I heard Dad tell Mom.

Earlier Pete and I heard a guy in the boarding house talking about a soda shop in town with a pool table. My grandpa was an incredible billiards player. At one time he was the best in our area of New York. He even competed it tournaments in Atlantic City when he was young. Back home we have a regulation pool table in our basement and I usually play three or four nights a week, and even more often in the winter. Grandpa likes straight pool but it takes too long for my taste, so my game is nine ball. Which is fast but still very challenging.

Pete and I left the room right after breakfast the next morning to seek out this pool table. On our way we ran into Jimmy. I asked him if he wanted to come. He said sure and the three of us with Doro on a leash were off to town.

We heard it was off Lumpkin Street, about a fifteen minute walk. When we got their Jimmy stopped and said "I don't think I should go in, you guys go ahead I will see you later."

Pete said. "Ah come on Jimmy it will be fine."

Just then a big guy about nineteen or twenty years old came out of the store. He was wearing a baseball cap that had CAT over the brim. As he was walking to his truck he stopped and looked straight at Jimmy and said. "Don't even think about going in there boy."

Jimmy didn't say a word and just walked away. Then he stopped and said to us he had something to do and would see us later. I told him we would come with him but he said no that's okay.

Before he left I asked. "Jimmy who was that guy?"

"Oh that's Dozer. He's mean and doesn't like black folks. Don't mess with him. I think his uncle owns the store."

"Okay we will see you later Jimmy. Maybe we can throw the ball around at the park after dinner."

Pete and I went in and ordered two Cokes and started playing a few racks of nine ball. After a few minutes Dozer returned with a friend who was as big as he was and as I quickly learned as dumb as he was.

"Hey you two little twerps want to play for some money?" Dozer blurted out at Pete and me.

Pete was a good pool player but he did play nearly as much as I did. I never played for money before but I really wanted to beat this guy. So I said. "Sure, nine ball a dollar a game."

"No I ain't playing no nine ball. Where the hell are you from? We play eight ball on this table."

I was pretty sure then I had him. Real pool players play straight pool or nine ball. Eight ball as my grandfather would say, "Is a game for kids or drunks in a bar."

"We're from New York. Okay." I said with confidence, "Eight ball it is. Let's play a dollar a rack and if I win you owe me nothing. You just have to let my friend Jimmy come in and play. How would that be?"

"It would be stupid Yankee. I don't own this place and even if I did no little nigger is coming in and playing pool here. We'll play for a dollar a game and that's it."

"Okay, you break."

As soon as he broke and made his next shot my confidence really grew. He dropped a few balls but I could tell he was only an average player at best. I only played eight ball a few times but I knew I could beat him. He was holding the stick way too tight with his right hand and too far down towards the end, his left hand bridge was all wrong and I could tell he really didn't understand playing position past one shot. He was trying to use too much English (back spin, draw or movement by spinning the cue ball left or right). These were all signs he was a real amateur.

A good player holds the stick loose and lets it slide, he plans his shots looking to run the entire rack, and doesn't need to use English that often if he plans his shots correctly. These are all the things my grandpa taught me. I wasn't nearly as good as grandpa but I can say without bragging I really could play a pretty good game of pool. Even if it meant playing eight ball. (Sorry Grandpa)

With that said I still lost the first game. I forgot in eight ball you have to call the pocket you are putting the last ball in, the eight ball. If you don't call it the other guy wins. When he missed his second shot after the break. I ran all my balls including the eight. It was obvious to everyone I was putting the eight ball in the side pocket, but as soon as it went in Dozer started yelling scratch you lose. For a second he reminded me of an over grown Spalding on the ball field in New York.

"Okay, Okay," I said. "I forgot you win. Here's your dollar let's play again."

The next rack I broke, and ran all my balls and called out, "Eight in the corner," as I sunk the eight ball and won.

We played twelve more games and I won eleven of them. He was down ten bucks. I wanted to keep playing, but he said he had to go. As he started to walk out I said. "Wait you owe me ten bucks!"

He threw me two and said. "Don't worry little Yankee twerp, you'll get it. I just have two on me, so I owe you eight."

"If you let Jimmy in you don't owe me a thing."

"Screw you and your little black buddy, you'll get your eight bucks." He said and walked out.

Pete was laughing all the way back to the room, and couldn't wait to tell Jimmy. "He may be too big for us to kick his ass in one way, but you sure kicked it in another. He was really pissed. Did you see his friend laughing at him on the way out?" Pete said.

I didn't expect to get my eight dollars from that jerk. I was just glad I beat him good in front of his friend, because of the way he talked to and about black people. He probably never took the time to know a black person, which is sad. It was my first money game in pool and I had two dollars and a worthless verbal IOU to show for it.

On the way to the soda shop Jimmy asked me if I wanted to go fishing on Sunday afternoon. I told him I would, and planned to meet him at his house after lunch at one.

When Pete and I arrived at the Carpenter's house that Sunday, Rubin was working on his grandfather's truck. Apparently there was a problem with the carburetor and Rubin volunteered to repair it. I didn't realize Rubin was also an aspiring mechanic like Pete. He always struck me as a book worm, but like Pete and Dad he also loved the feel of motor oil on his hands.

As soon as Pete saw Rubin under the hood he forgot about fishing and was more interested in rebuilding the old Ford's ailing carburetor. Doro was with us and he seemed interest in playing with the Carpenter's small German Shepard. So the task of fishing for catfish was left to the angler skills of Jimmy and me.

We packed a couple of fishing poles with us but they were back in the truck. Because it was Sunday and the dealer who had our truck was closed, Jimmy let me use one of his poles.

He told me we had quite a walk to get to the North Oconee River where the catfish were the size of sharks. Well that's what Jimmy said. Remember Jimmy never left Athens so I doubt if he ever saw a shark.

After walking for 45 minutes we arrived at a grassy field, where just on the other side sat the river and those mammoth catfish. About halfway across the field I felt a stinging pain on my right leg. I grabbed it and there was a bee with his stinger totally embedded in my calf. Just as I swatted it off I heard Jimmy yelling. He had dropped his pole and bate and was running across the field swatting his hands franticly. The swarm of bees was all around him.

After a few seconds of running that seemed like an hour, we finally escaped. I was only stung once but Jimmy had at least ten or twelve stings. We both ran back to the road where we sat for a few minutes. Then Jimmy said "John, I'm not feeling so good. I think I have to get home." When I looked at him his face was already starting to swell up and he said his throat felt like it was closing.

I told him. "We got to get you home. We can come back for the poles later."

As we started to walk back on the dirt road towards town, he was looking worst with every step. He said he was having trouble breathing. I told him to rest for a minute, but I knew we somehow had to get to a hospital. This was a lonely dirt road about half a mile off the main road.

Just then I saw a pick-up truck coming towards us. I knew I had to stop the truck and ask for a ride to the hospital because if I didn't it's very possible Jimmy wouldn't make it. It was doubtful another car or truck would be passing by for hours.

I stood in the middle of the road and waved the driver down and when he stopped I ran to the passenger side of the truck to ask for help. Just then I realized my worst nightmare was just beginning. It was Dozer that loud mouth bigot. So I tried to be nice and practically begged him to help.

"Please sir we need help. Jimmy was stung by some bees and we need to get to the hospital as fast as we can." I said.

"Tough walk I ain't given you two a ride."

"Please you can forget about the money you owe me. I will even pay you for a ride."

"Tough little Yankee twerp. It ain't far into town just walk."

Just as he started to pull away out of sheer desperation I said. "Listen Dozer you stupid redneck son of bitch, he will die if you don't help us."

Just as the words came out of my mouth I realized that perhaps Jimmy and I were both going to die on this dirt road in Georgia. Dozer's face turned bright red and he yanked the hand brake up so hard it sounded like a wood spoon dragging across a steal washboard. His door flew open as he said. "That's it wise mouth Yankee, I'm going to beat the liven crap out of you."

This was quickly becoming one of the scariest moment in my life. Just ahead of the time Al Hurlburt charged the pitcher's mound and Pete saved me by tackling him, and just behind the time those two punks pulled a knife on Dad, Pete and me, when Mom saved us with a shotgun. However this time Pete, Mom, Dad and Doro were nowhere around to bail me out. I couldn't run and leave Jimmy although it crossed my mind.

Just as Dozer started around the front of the truck to break my little Yankee neck. He stopped and asked. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

In the short time it took for me to stop the truck and argue with Dozer, Jimmy got significantly worst. His eyes were closed with the swelling and his head was almost twice the normal size. I said. "He was stung by bees I just told you. We have to get him to a hospital now!"

Dozer looked at me with a somewhat different expression and said. "Get in the back of the truck." Then he scoped Jimmy up in his arms and placed him on the front seat lying him down next to him. I thought to myself this was probably the first time Dozer ever touched a black person.

We took off flying down the dirt road heading for Athens General. Dozer was flying through the streets of Athens taking short cuts that only an Athens native could possibly know. We pulled up to the emergency room entrance in what must have been record time. Dozer scoped Jimmy up again and rushed him into the emergency room entrance. All I could think about was I hope we weren't too late.

As soon as we got him in the nurse took him away and the receptionist directed the two of us to the waiting room. At this point I still wasn't sure if Dozer called off beating the crap out of me or not. Well I thought at least I wouldn't have far to go if he did. As we sat there for the first ten minutes he didn't say a word. I actually couldn't believe he was still sitting there in the waiting room with me.

I gave the receptionist Jimmy's mother's name and address. They didn't have a phone so the hospital called the police and asked them to go to their house.

Then Dozer finally turned to me and asked in a calm normal voice. "What were you two guys doing out there fishing?"

"Yea, but we never made it. As soon as we got half way across the field these bees attack us."

"Oh yea that happens. Did you get stung?"

"Just once on the leg."

"Oh."

"I hope he will be alright." I said.

"Oh yea they'll fix him up. This is a good hospital. My old man was here once for his appendix, they took good care of him." He said. "Yea he'll be okay."

Just then the doctor came out to see us. "Are you the two guys that brought the Carpenter boy in?" he asked.

"Yes. Will he be ok doctor?" I said.

"Yes thanks to you two. Another twenty minutes or so I am not sure we could have saved him."

Just then Jimmy's mother rushed in anxiously asking the doctor if her son was going to be okay.

"Yes thanks to these two boys, he will be fine. We want to keep him here for a day or two to make sure, but he will be fine. You can see him now."

Before Mrs. Carpenter went with the doctor she thanked Dozer and me. Then she hugged us both. Dozer never said a word, but look shocked as this black woman hugged him. He just stood there for a few seconds and then turned around and walked out the door and never said a word. That was the last time I ever saw Dozer. I never got the eight dollars he owed me, but it was small price to pay for saving my friends life.

I went in to visit Jimmy with his mother. He was starting to look a little better but his face was still very swollen. We shook hands and he said in a very low voice. "Thanks for saving me buddy."

Jimmy's grandfather arrived at the hospital with Pete and Rubin in the back of his truck. Everyone was relieved to hear Jimmy was going to be all right.

As we were leaving the hospital I told Pete and Rubin it was a good thing you fixed the carburetor or we would have had to walk home. His grandfather said "These boys did a great job with this old truck. It runs better than new. Yes sir better than new."

As we were driving back to the Carpenters house that afternoon I was think about all that happened in the last few days. I didn't know the Carpenter family a week ago but now we were all good friends. It's hard to believe how quickly this all happen. Our families were so different, but yet somehow we made a great connection with these very nice people.

I also thought of Dozer. Somehow behind all his bigoted big mouth caustic remarks there was a decent person buried inside, at least I think so. He just seemed either embarrassed or afraid to show it. When Mrs. Carpenter hugged him he didn't know what to do. For some odd reason he sat with me in the waiting room for over an hour, when just a short time before he was going to kill me. He saved Jimmy's life, carried him in his arms to the emergency room, when just a few days ago he wouldn't let him in the soda shop to play pool. It's really hard for me to understand this type of behavior and perhaps I never will.

When we got back to the boarding house, Mom and Dad were sitting in the yard and hadn't heard what happened. Pete started telling them the whole story when Mrs. Carpenter and Rubin appeared. Mrs. Carpenter wanted to tell my parents what I did and to thank me again for helping Jimmy. She was such as sincere person and you couldn't help but admire her. She was a single parent who worked two jobs, and still did a great job raising two boys in the Deep South during the worst depression in U.S. history. To say this was no easy task would be a vast understatement.

Both my parents told me how proud of me they were for what I did. While this day was one I would never want to relive, having my parents tell me how proud they were of me and knowing Jimmy was going to be okay made things seem a lot better.

On Tuesday afternoon Dad told us the truck has its new head gasket and we were ready to roll again. He told us he had a few things to finish up here in Athens and we were going to stay one more day and leave on Thursday.

This would give Pete and me a chance to say goodbye to the Carpenters. Jimmy was home from the hospital and doing fine. He still had some swelling but looked a lot better. When I told him we were leaving he really looked sad. It was Wednesday afternoon and I told him we would be off by early morning so I wouldn't see him again. He thanked me for what I did, and I thanked him as well.

When he asked me why I thanked him I said. "You and your family really taught me something. Even though you are not treated fairly by some people in the south you don't seem to hold any bitterness. You and your family treat everyone with respect and ask for nothing in return. I'm lucky to have a great family Jimmy but so are you. I hope I see you again someday."

He shook my hand and then we said goodbye. I could see he had tears in his eyes. I really fought off the tears because I made a pact with myself to never cry again. It was something I promised myself after that night in Indiana when those two punks tried to rob us. I told myself that was the last time I would ever act like a kid again. I wanted to be strong and more like Pete and Dad so I thought if I never cry that would be a big step forward. Later in life I found out that had nothing to do with it.

On Wednesday evening Mrs. Carpenter had Rubin bring over some corn bread she made for the trip. Even though we only stayed in Athens just short of a week, I really felt bad about leaving. It seemed in some ways we were here for months.

Thursday morning came and we were all up and ready to go. Once again, Mom and Dad seemed to be dodging the question as to where we were headed. I knew it was getting close to the start of the school year and soon Pete and I were going to begin our first taste of home schooling. It was going to be different for sure having Mom as our teacher.

As we were leaving Dad stopped in front of the Carpenter's house and Mom placed an envelope in their mail box. I asked Mom why she put an envelope in their mail box.

"Well your dad paid for all of Jimmy's hospital bills yesterday and he wanted to drop off the receipt for Mrs. Carpenter. She doesn't know he did it yet. He also wanted to let them know Rubin should contact Mary, Dad's secretary at Davis Brown to apply for a college scholarship."

My dad was not big on donating to large charities. He always felt they take too much of the money in operating cost and only a small amount ever makes it to the people who need help. So when he sees an opportunity to help someone in need he is very generous with his time and money. Looking back on it I guess there wasn't a tax deduction he could take for this generosity, but for him just knowing he helped someone always seemed to be more than enough.

As we were leaving Athens Pete asked once again "Say where are we going?"

To our surprise, both Mom and Dad said. "We're going home."

# Chapter 12: Going home! August 27, 1936.

As we were leaving Athens, Georgia on our search for U.S. 1 north I know we were all thinking about everything that happened over the last two months. Pete and I were somewhat puzzled, but not disappointed with the decision to head home. Somehow we were both under the impression we had ten months to go on the road.

I asked "Did something happen? I thought we were going to live in the trailer for a year. Are we going back to school in two weeks?"

Dad replied, "Well guys I guess I have to come clean with both of you. This trip had several objects. One was for me to take a well needed break from work. I also wanted to visit some of the companies that my firm has investment interest. However, the most important part of the trip for me was to spend time with you two guys and mom. As you know for the last eight years I have been working a lot of hours, too many hours. It finally dawned on me last year that I was missing out on the best part of life, you two and your mom. I guess it took a trip to the doctor's office for me to realize it. The other idea I had was for you two to get a chance to see the country but more importantly I wanted you to meet other people in other parts of the country. You see we're very lucky. Most of the country is in a deep depression but we still live in a nice house, have good food every day, and get to be with our family and friends. Even get to see the Yankees play once in a while. I know you guys aren't by any means spoiled kids. I think you both realize how lucky we are, but I wanted you to not only read about people less fortunate. I wanted you to actually live with them and experience what they are going through firsthand. By the way, I thought this experience was important for mom and me to have as well. Sometimes I forget how well off we really are compared to others. I have to tell you the truth. I'm sorry I misled you both and I promise you I will never do it again. I made you think we were going to do this for a year and while it did cross my mind to do just that. I knew in reality we should return home by September. I didn't want you two to be away from your grandparents, friends and your first year in high school.

The reason I wanted you to think we were going to do this for a much longer time was so you would really feel what it was like to live as so many other people do every day. If you thought this was going to be just another long summer vacation perhaps you wouldn't be as eager to meet new people and make friends. It would have felt like just a long family vacation, and I didn't want that.

I'm sorry I had to mislead you, but if it makes you feel any better I mislead your grandparents as well. They thought we were going for a year right up to the day before we left, and Nonna and Nonno didn't know until right after we drove out. I wanted to be fair to you both, so if I was going to mislead you I had to mislead everyone. Only mom knew the exact plan, and even she felt I was wrong in not telling everyone the truth.

Looking back on things over the past two months I guess I really underestimated you both. You were both incredible on this trip. You made friends with people that were very different from us. Never complained about hardships on the road and not being home in New York. Well almost never. You both showed amazing bravery in the face of danger. Mom and I couldn't be more proud of you both. Even Doro, who saved a life. I guess he really grew up on this trip as well."

We both said quietly. "Thanks." As our mom reach back and hugged us with I think a tear in her eye.

"Dad did Uncle Gino know?" Asked Pete.

"No Pete not until we left. Grandma and Grandpa were going to tell everyone as soon as we drove out that we would be back in September."

"Oh now I understand." I said. "Grandma seemed upset the week before we left, but the morning we were leaving she seemed fine. Nonna seemed okay with us leaving until that morning then she seemed upset. I guess when Grandma knew we were only going for twelve weeks she felt a lot better than when she thought we were going for twelve months. I guess Nonna was upset because she did know this until we drove out."

"Yes that's right John." Replied mom. "We didn't think it was right to mislead you and Pete about the length of the trip if everyone else knew something different. So we mislead everyone. This isn't something we ever did before and we would never do it again. So I hope both of you understand why we did it. We felt if could be a once in a lifetime learning experience for us all, but we had no idea it would turn out so well. We have a long way to go before we get home. I think it would be good for us to spend a day or two in Washington, D.C. what do you guys think."

"Yea that would be great!" We both agreed.

"Because we have such a long ride why don't you both tell us what you learned over the last eleven weeks and what were some of the best parts of the trip?"

"You start John, I want to think about it a little." Pete said.

"Okay. I never realized just how big our country was until we drove across it, and just how different people could be. However, there always seemed to be good people around to help you when you need help. I still remember that Amish man that gave Dad a ride back to the diner in his buggy when we were in Indiana. I'll never forget Mr. and Mrs. Yarter in Ohio and how they took care of Doro while we were at the Great Lakes Fair. Or the police man who helped us after we had the run in with those two punks. I'll never forget little Mike Risk who never gave up trying to find Doro with us in Arizona. I even think about that guy Dozer who wasn't really a nice guy, but when he realized Jimmy needed help he was amazing."

"How about you Pete." Mom asked.

"I remember the friends we made, and even though we were different we still had some of the same interest. I'll never forget Rubin. I thought he was just some kind of book worm but he was also an ace mechanic. He really knew his way around cars and trucks, anything with an engine. I couldn't believe how good Rick and Dave Chaoma were at playing baseball. They had the worst field and almost no equipment but knew the game, and I don't think they ever saw a major league baseball game."

"What were some of the other things?" mom asked.

"Meeting the Beast!" Pete exclaimed.

"Yea the Beast double X. How about the home run he hit in Cleveland." I said. "I really liked seeing Jenny in Scranton, even though Scranton was boring. I liked seeing Angelo in Hot Springs."

"I think the best part was Cleveland, with the ballgame and the Great Lakes Fair. I also liked the beach in California." Pete said.

After giving it some thought I said. "I guess the really important part of this trip is what I learned about other people and I guess myself. Even though some people had almost nothing, they seemed to be glad they still had their family. This really seemed true with the Carpenter family. Jimmy and Rubin seemed happy to be living with their grandparents and mother just as we are with our family. Even though they have so much less than we do, it doesn't seem to matter. Sometimes I get upset with myself when I miss an easy shot on the pool table at home. The Carpenters aren't even allowed in that rundown candy store to play pool. I get mad when it takes so long for the hot water to come on in the upstairs bathroom. While the Risk family lives in a small cabin without running water and I never heard them complain once.

I would like to say I will never complain about these small things again after this experience, but I know that's not true. However I will remember these people the rest of my life and I know from time to time when I do get upset about the small things perhaps these memories will bring me back to reality and I will remember just how lucky I am."

"Dad what was your favorite part?" I asked.

"That's easy just watching you two being your selves, making new friends and showing more courage and determination than I ever imagined."

After two days on US 1 heading north we were in Washington D.C. As we were standing on line for the Museum of Natural History, I realized Dad was right. Now that I know we're going to be home in a few days things really do feel different. I feel like I'm on vacation, earlier I felt like I was trying to navigate through life. It's a whole different feeling. Before there was a need to be more responsible, part of a team on an uncharted journey. Now I kind of feel more like a thirteen year old kid again hanging out with my parents. It's amazing just how quickly things can change just knowing we are heading home.

Washington was a real treat. We spent two days in the city, going to museums and seeing places I only read about, like the capitol and the White House. The two days felt like a nice dessert after a meal. A long full meal.

We left Washington early in the morning and by 3:00 pm we were on the George Washington Bridge crossing the Hudson River. For some reason anytime we cross over the Hudson I always feel like I'm home. We still have forty miles north on route 9 to travel, but it's a good feeling crossing the good old Hudson River.

It was September 3rd at 4:00 pm when we finally pulled into the driveway. Seventy six days ago we left and now we were home. A little tired but somewhat wiser, I think. Seventy six days that changed my life for the better.

# Chapter 13: Home again, September 3, 1936.

As we rolled up our driveway George Gray was cleaning the grass from under the mower. As soon as he saw us he ran into the house and let my grandparents know we were home. I guess it was a small surprise because they didn't know the exact day we were going to arrive, but they knew we planned to return the first week in September.

It was great to see everyone and they were really happy to see us as well. Dad took us all to the Shadowbrook for dinner. George hesitated at first and said he would see us when we return, but we all insisted. We invited George to dinner many times through the years but he never accepted. He always seemed uncomfortable, but this time he agreed. All seven of us jumped into the Packard, it was crowded but the restaurant was only a mile away. This trip was just a blink of the eye for us now after what we just completed.

When we got to the restaurant Nonna and Nonno were so glad to see us. Uncle Gino was tending bar and Marisa was waiting tables. Somehow everything seemed back in place. It was a great feeling and we had a fantastic dinner. Everyone wanted to hear about our adventures.

When I woke up Friday morning it was sure nice to have slept in my own bed again. School started yesterday but Mom told us we didn't need to go back until Monday. I was a little nervous about going back to school and starting high school, but as always it really helped knowing Pete would be right there with me.

That Sunday evening Pete and I were both getting ready for bed when I asked. "Pete are you a little nervous about going to school tomorrow? It's ninth grade, high school."

"John the way I look at it, after what we went through the last two months, high school will be a piece of cake. How many other kids do you think did what we did this summer?"

"I guess you're right Pete." I said. Pete always had a way of keeping things in perspective, something I really needed to learn.

On Monday we got to see all our old friends. I even ran into Spaulding in the hallway that morning. He heard about what we did during the summer and was very interested in learning all the details. He was a funny little guy who I didn't know very well, but as time went by we got to be good friends. He was smart and always interested in learning everything.

I even ran into Hurlburt that day. Oddly he said hello to me. We never spoke much even when we were playing baseball but he somehow seemed different, and I thought it was for the better. Pete was right, high school turned out fine. We were the only two freshman to make the varsity baseball team that year, and we both started most games. Pete on first base and me on shortstop.

The next four years went by fast. Pete and I kept busy with school work, sports and Uncle Gino taught us both to fly as he promised. Nonna was never comfortable with the thought of Pete and me alone in the sky. I don't think she liked the idea of her sons, my Uncle Ray and Uncle Gino flying and I think she hoped it would stop there. Now having her two grandsons as pilots was not something she was happy about.

Both Pete and I made our first solo flights shortly after our sixteenth birthdays. As time went by I became more interested in flying whereas Pete's interest was more in the mechanical aspects of aviation. Every weekend we would ride our bicycles out to the airport. I would spend most of my time with Gino either flying or talking about flying. Pete became good friends with the airport mechanic Art Albright. Art really took a shine to Pete and hired him part time as a mechanics helper. Pete just loved working on planes in the old hanger with Art.

The world was changing fast in the late 30s as the country was still digging its way out of the depression. It was sad to see some good American companies never making it through the depression as many people lost their jobs. In 1937 both Duesenberg and Cord automobiles were going out of business. These were the coolest cars on the planet. I still remember the time when we were driving on the freeway in Los Angles when a Cord and Duesenberg passed us like we were standing still. I thought someday I would own a Cord but I guess that's never going to happen.

By 1938 things seemed to be unraveling around the world, Japan was at war with China and in Europe a Spanish civil war was really heating up. However the real danger seemed to be coming from Germany. Most experts in the papers and on the radio felt that it was just a matter of time before Hitler would be at war with someone. It was scary because the news from Germany was very spotty. We were hearing some strange thing as to the treatment of Jewish people in Germany. It was unclear exactly what was going on but many Jewish people were leaving Europe and coming to America.

That summer Dad got Rubin Carpenter, our friend from Athens, Georgia a summer intern position with his firm. Rubin had just completed his freshman year at Albany State University in Georgia. He was a top student and Davis Brown Investments helped fund his education through their new scholarship program. I know Rubin would have liked to have attended The University in Athens, but because of the color of his skin this was not going to happen.

Rubin was very interested in working on Wall Street, so this summer position was a great opportunity for him. Because it was going to be a huge adjustment for him to leave Georgia and to live someplace in New York City by himself. Dad insisted he live with us for the summer. Rubin's mother was relieved when she heard the news. I think the whole idea of him alone in New York really sacred her.

I didn't know Rubin as well as Pete did, and even Pete only knew him for a week almost two years ago. So we weren't sure what to expect. However, as it turned out it was a great experience for all of us. Rubin was a real gentleman and we really grew to think of him as a member of our family. We could tell when he first arrived in early June 1938 he was somewhat overwhelmed. Starting his first summer job and now he had his own room for the first time in his life.

I could tell after a few days something was bothering Rubin and he finally opened up and confided in me. "John, I want you to know how much I appreciate all your family is doing for me. However, I'm a little confused about something and I am not sure how to say it."

"No problem Rubin. What is it? I will keep it between us if you want me to." I said.

"I am very happy living in your beautiful home and honored to have my own room. However, I don't understand why Mister Gray lives in the small outbuilding in the back and I live in this house with your family. I feel I should offer to swap with him. I'm new here and let's be honest I'm black and he's white. So shouldn't I be in the outbuilding?" He said. "I really don't mind."

"No Rubin. For one thing George doesn't want to live with us in the house. Even when we invite him in he seldom comes in the house. He likes to be left alone in the back, he seems to be happier that way. The second thing, my mom and dad don't judge a person based on their color. In your current job if it's anything like my dad's you will have to do some work at home, studying the economy and researching companies. So you will need your own room to work in. Please don't give it a second thought, but if you do feel uncomfortable, feel free to speak to Dad I'm sure he will tell you the same thing. I know he can explain it much better than I did. I'm glad you told me how you feel, but you should always feel free to let my parents know if you have any concerns as well. They're always very understanding."

"Thanks John, I feel better now. I think you explained it very well. Please let's keep it between us."

On June 22, 1938 Joe Lewis now the heavyweight boxing world champ was going to fight Max Schmeling for the second time. It was two years and three days since the first fight, the night before we left on our family journey. That night I heard grandpa yell oh no as Lewis was knocked out. Back then Pete and I were more interested in the trip that was to start the next morning than listening to the fight on the radio. Now things were different. We were older and had a better understanding of the importance of this fight. It was as important as Jessie Owens winning Olympic gold medals in 1936. These were more than just sporting events. They were contest that pitted democracy against fascism. I would love to say they brought an end to racism but that would take much longer.

The fight was being held at Yankee Stadium just like the first one. This fight was generating a great deal more world focus then the first bout, because Lewis now held the Heavyweight title. In 1936 it wasn't a title fight, Jim Braddock was the champ. Lewis whet on to knocked Braddock out in 1937 and now he held the title. However, he said he wouldn't feel like a true champion until he fought and beat Schmeling the only man to beat him. Unlike the first fight where Lewis didn't train nearly as hard as perhaps he should have. This time he was going to be in the best condition of his life. He knew there was more at stake than just the title, the entire country was counting on him to show the Nazis there was no master race. All men are created equal under god.

That evening we all gathered around the large wood grained Philco radio in our living room, to hear the blow by blow commentary. Grandma wasn't interested in boxing so she decided to do some baking in the kitchen. Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Pete, Rubin and even George Gray came in to listen that evening. We were all rooting for Joe to win. The entire country was interested in the fight and all pulling for Joe.

Rubin, Pete and I sat on the floor in front of the radio. Mom, Dad, George and Grandpa pulled their chairs up closer to us as the ring announcer introduced the fighters. Even though we didn't have a television in those days I still feel like I saw the fight on the radio that night.

You could tell right from the opening bell this was a different Joe Lewis. I saw a number of Lewis fights on news reels at the Paramount Theater in Peekskill, so I could picture his style in my mind. He was a straight up fighter with a lightning jab and a devastating right. As soon as they met in the center of the ring Joe landed those quick short jabs. They struck as quickly and accurately as a rattle snake attacking its prey. Then within the first two minutes of the first round came a series of hard rights to Schmeling's jaw. After a standing eight count Schmeling went down twice. His corner rushed into the ring and Joe won. A first round knockout, a victory for Joe and America.

While we were all cheering the Lewis victory I once again couldn't help but think about what I saw in the south two years ago. Even after this victory Joe just gave all Americans he still couldn't eat in some white restaurants, or use a white water fountain in the south, and he would have to wait in a separate bus station. I couldn't help but wonder if the same thing was crossing Rubin's mind that night. I never asked him and he never said, but if it was I certainly could understand it.

As the summer went by I learned a lot from Rubin. You could just tell he really appreciated what Dad was doing for him. Two years ago when we returned from our trip after seeing the dust bowl, living in a camp in Arizona with American Indians, and going through the Deep South and seeing Jim Crow first hand. I came home with a much better appreciation for what we had. Now two years have passed and somehow those feelings seemed to wear off a bit. Being around Rubin gave me a booster shot of appreciation, a much needed one.

Rubin stayed with us for two summers, 1938 and 1939. In the summer of 1940 he received an offer to work on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange trading commodities. It was another great career opportunity for him but we all missed having him live with us that summer. He had this great laugh and was always happy and eager to learn anything new. Nonna and Nonno real liked him as well. Ever Sunday he would join us for Dinner at the Shadowbrook. He loved Nonno's spaghetti and meat balls and he always gained a few pounds when he returned home to Georgia in September.

I never saw Rubin's Brother Jimmy. We spoke on the phone a couple of times while Rubin stayed with us. He always said he was heading north someday to see us, but it never happened.

# Chapter 14: The forties a time of change but not all for the good.

In June of 1940 both Pete and I graduated from Hendrick Hudson High School. It was a great day. Our parents, grandparents and Uncle Gino were there to see us graduate that day. Pete graduated number two in the class. I did well and graduated with honors but not as high as Pete. All through school Pete was always the smartest one. He got great marks but very seldom studied. I had to work hard but my grades were never as good as his.

Pete was gifted in many ways. Not only was he good in school he had great instincts and commonsense. He always stayed cool in any situation, nothing ever seemed to rattle him. Life for me would have been much harder if I didn't have Pete by my side and leading the way.

Now that high school was behind us we were both looking forward to collage. At least I thought we were. I was planning on attending Columbia University in Manhattan, and Pete planned on going to MIT in Boston. Dad told us we could go to any school that accepted us. At one point Pete and I thought we would go the same school. However, when it came down to the final decision it turned out we made different choices. Dad told us he thought it may be good for both of us if we went to different schools. He left it up to us, but felt we should experience collage on our own. The independent experience would do us both good. All our lives we did most things together.

It was going to be harder for me because all through elementary and high school I was always the youngest in every class and Pete was the oldest among kids that were never left back. I guess to some degree I was counting on Pete to lead the way. However it really was time for me to be on my own. So when I was accepted at Columbia and Pete at MIT things were now set. So I thought.

All summer Pete was working with Art at the airport and studying for his Airframe and Engine Certificate license (A&E). I knew he enjoyed being a mechanic but I always thought it was more of a hobby. In early August he passed his A&E exam which was no easy task. He was one of the youngest to ever pass the tough A&E mechanics exam.

A few days after he got his A&E license he broke the news to me, he wasn't going to MIT. He had applied for an A&E position at New York Municipal airport (later named LaGuardia) and planned to work there for a year. He said it was something he wanted to do and if it didn't work out he would go to college the following year. He had been going with Janice Crawford since last summer and I suspected she had something to do with his decision. So I tried my best to talk him out of it before he broke the news to our parents.

"Pete this is crazy you finished top in our class and you want to be a mechanic? You belong in MIT. Is it because of Janice?" I asked.

"No she has nothing to do with it." He said tersely.

"Because if it is and you don't want to leave New York why don't you apply to a school closer to home? That way you can come home every weekend."

"All right John I'll tell you. Janice and I are going to get married. Janice is pregnant. You're the only one who knows."

"Wow. Oh no Pete. When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?"

"I guess I have to do it tonight."

"Where will you live?"

"We have been looking at a place in White Plains to rent. I will be closer to the airport."

"Maybe you should live here. There should be enough room with me going to Columbia next month."

"No I don't think so John."

I didn't say another word in fear of saying something I would regret. I was never crazy about Janice and now she was going to be my sister-in-law. That wasn't so bad I guess, but what really bothered me was I knew Pete wanted to be an aeronautical engineer and he would be a great one. Now he was going to be a mechanic for who knows how long. Not a bad job I guess but I know he wanted more. I didn't want to be around when he told our parents. So I walked down to the Shadowbrook to see Uncle Gino and my grandparents.

Gino was tending bar that night, but I was seventeen so I couldn't drink, although I wished I could have. I wanted to tell someone but I knew I couldn't. I sat at the bar and Gino poured me a coke. We talked about flying for a while, then Nonno came out from the kitchen. When he saw me he went back and brought me a cannoli and a glass of milk. I think both he and Gino knew something was bothering me, but they never brought it up. It was a Tuesday night and I hung around until almost closing before I walked home.

When I got home I went to my room. I saw Pete's light on so I knocked on his door. "Well did you tell them?" I asked.

"Yea, I did."

"How did they take it?"

"Not great. Mom started to cry. Dad said he was disappointed in me."

"Oh no."

"Yea it wasn't good. Dad said we could live here and he would pay for college, but I don't want to do that."

"Hell why not?"

"I don't know John I just don't."

I knew he didn't want to talk about it anymore so I said I would see him in the morning. We just left it at that.

On Saturday August 17, 1940 Pete and Janice were married in Croton by the justice of the piece. It as a small wedding just our two families. The reception was held at the Shadowbrook. Nonna and Nonno made sure the staff did a great job with the food. Uncle Gino and Marisa were both there, they had just gotten married a few months prior.

Janice and Pete took the train to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon the next morning. When they returned they were living in White Plains. I couldn't shake the feeling that Pete was going to be missing out on a lot of things we always talked about. For the first time in my life he wasn't going to be sleeping in the room across from mine.

The next week I was off to Columbia University in New York City to study engineering with a minor in finance. I was going to be living in the dorm and planned to come home on weekends when I could. It was only a sixty minute train ride from Grand Central Terminal but I knew I was going to be very busy with school even on weekends. Unlike Pete I had to study hard to get a good grade. As it turned out I only got to come home once before Thanksgiving break. Occasionally I would meet dad for lunch near his office in Manhattan and a few times I had dinner with mom and dad in the city. All in all school was good and my grades were pretty good as well.

Just a few days before Thanksgiving break I got a call from mom with some bad news. Janice had a miscarriage and lost the baby. I called Pete and told him how sorry I was. It just seemed like Pete's life was taking some unexpected and unpleasant turns. He was just eighteen and already he had a taste of life that I knew I wouldn't have been prepared for at this age. I wished I could do something for him as he always did for me when things were tough. Like the time he stopped Hurlburt from beating the crap out of me on the ball field. Life was hitting him hard and I couldn't do anything to help him.

The school year flew by, and before I knew it I was home for the summer. It was June 1941. Pete got me a summer job with him at New York Municipal Airport. It was a fun job. I worked on the flight line refueling planes. The only time I didn't like it was when it was raining. Dad still had season tickets for the Yankee games so occasionally Pete and I would meet him in the Bronx and take in a game. The summer of 41 was a great baseball year. Joe DiMaggio had his great 56 game hitting streak and we were there for half a dozen of those games. In Boston this young kid Ted Williams ended the season with a .406 batting average. The first person to hit over .400 in ten years, and he would be the last one for a very long time. The Yankees won the World Series in five games over the Brooklyn Dodgers that year which was icing on the cake. It was a great summer but little did I know it was all about to change very soon.

When September rolled around I was back at Columbia and studying hard again. I really didn't mind. I enjoyed school and made a lot of really good friends. This year was less overwhelming, it was still a lot of work but the feeling of being lost away from home was totally gone, Columbia felt like my second home.

There was always a lot of political discussions going on at Columbia. Mostly about the war in Europe. Germany and Italy controlled most of Europe and England was fighting the axis powers all alone. The US supplied materials to the allies but the fighting was done by the English. Europe wasn't the only place on the globe at war. In Asia, China and Japan had been fighting for several years.

The opinions about the wars differed between my friends and fellow students. Some felt strongly the US should intervene and help the British win the war in Europe, while others felt it was not a problem for the US to resolve. No one seemed to be in favor of a US involvement in Asia. I believe the reason some felt we should fight in Europe, was that a number of people still had relatives in Europe. There were also these dark but somewhat unclear speculations as to what was going on with Jewish people in Germany. Some reports claimed people being killed or imprisoned just because they were Jewish. We had a number of people at school who were of German descendant and some of them felt these stories were just propaganda to get the US involved in the war. There were only a few Asian students in Columbia in those days so discussions about a fight with Japan almost never came up. Besides the Japanese leaders were meeting with Roosevelt this month so it looked like this would be settled with some political negotiations very soon. One thing was for sure in the fall of 1941, the world was in turmoil and things were about to get worst.

The first semester went by quickly and before I knew it we were in December and I was thinking about Christmas break just a few weeks away. On Sunday December 7th I went down stairs in the dorm and some guys were listening to the Giants football game on the radio. It was about 2:30 PM when the broadcast was interrupted with the news that the U.S. naval base in Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands was bombed by the Japanese. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought at first it may be another one of those Orson Wells, War of the Worlds pranks. Then I quickly realized no one would joke about something like that, so this meant we were at war. Not with the Germans but with the Japs. This was hard to believe. I knew I needed to call home and call Pete as well.

When I called home Grandma answered and she already heard the news. Mom and Dad were at the Shadowbrook and she said they just called. So I tried to call Pete, but he wasn't home. I just sat in the dorm as other students drifted in listening to the radio. The reports kept coming in all afternoon even into the night. The details got worst and scarier with every new special report. It began to sound like most of our navy in the pacific had been destroyed. How could we stop them from invading the west coast I thought?

The next morning the president addressed the nation on the radio. There was something about his voice and his speech that made me and I suspect many others feel a little better. The entire country was angry and the United States of America was not the country you wanted mad at you. Everyone was behind the president and his declaration that we would defeat Japan.

Then just three days later Hitler declared war on the US. Now in less than a week we were at war in the Pacific and in Europe. These were odd and scary times. World War II was now on and we were right in the middle of it.

Then just when I thought things could get more stressful they did. On Friday morning I got a call from Pete and he told me he just enlisted in the Army Air Force. He told me things with Janice and his marriage were deteriorating so there was nothing holding him back from enlisting. He felt the Air Force needed qualified mechanics now more than ever, so it was something he had to do. Even though I was worried about him I knew he was doing the right thing. I told him I should leave school and enlist as well.

"No John, stay in school as long as you can. One son in this thing is enough and besides the country needs engineers, so you must finish at Columbia." Pete said in our short phone conversation.

"Okay Pete. When are you leaving? Does Mom and Dad know?"

"I am going to call them now. I have a pre-induction physical scheduled for Wednesday next week and I'm told I will be leaving next Monday for basic training in California."

"Okay Pete, please be careful and write me when you can so I know what's going on."

After I hung up the phone I just sat down stairs in the dorm for a few minutes thinking about Pete and how much I will miss him. In many ways he was stronger than me. He was able to adapt to things much easier than I was and he never seemed to be afraid of anything. He always seemed to have things figured out regardless of the situation and instinctively he always seemed to know what to do. So many times in my life I tried to be more like him but I just couldn't. Often I would ask myself when I was in a tense situation, "What would Pete do?"

While I was sitting there I kept telling myself this war will be over before you know it, but I knew it was just a lie I wanted to believe. Most of Europe needed to be liberated from Hitler's grasp. The Japanese needed to be defeated and with much of our navy now lying at the bottom of Pearl Harbor, this was going to be a long hard conflict.

# Chapter 15: World War II, we all pulled together.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor things really changed in America. Years later I read a quote from Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto the Japanese architect for the attack on Pearl Harbor. He said, "We have just awakened a sleeping giant." He was against the attack because he lived in the U.S. for years and understood the might of the American people. He was correct, the sleeping giant was awake and really pissed off. Almost everyone was pulling together in the US. To be accurate there were some small pockets of Nazi sympathizers in the country. The real strength of the United States was in our freedom and diversity, sometimes however this freedom could create extreme disparities among the populace. Luckily in this case these radical views were only held by a very small minority.

School kids were holding recycle drives for surplus aluminum and rubber all over the country. As men went to war women filled the vacant positions in the factories. The quality of work and pride was probably never higher in any other country or at any other time in world history as it was in the US during World War II. Men were enlisting in all the armed services at record numbers. America wasn't ready for war yet but it would be very soon and it would produce the most powerful military in the history of mankind in a very short time.

On Monday December 21, 1941 Mom, Dad, Janice and I saw Pete off at Oscawana station. He was taking the train from Oscawana to Grand Central Station in New York, then board another train to California. Aircraft mechanics were sorely needed in the Pacific, and the air force was now getting one of the best.

I was back in school in January. Living in New York City was much different than it was just a month ago. There were air raid drills and military personnel going everywhere. The conversations at Columbia were always dominated by the latest war news. It seemed like every day for the first three months in 1942 there was only two kinds of war news, bad news and very bad news. We seemed to be losing everywhere. I think the low point came on March 12th when General Douglas MacArthur had to flee from the Philippines. The amazing part of all of this was even with all the bad news the American people were still pulling together. Even at our lowest point there was a very strong feeling that we will get through this and win the war if we all work together.

Then on April 18th we finally received the first good news in over four months. We bomber Tokyo. Jimmy Doolittle led a group of B-25 bombers that hit the capital of Japan. The damage was minimal but the boost to our moral was enormous. This was a small but much needed victory.

In New York the war years were not pleasant. We had to live with things like gas rationing and black outs, but in London they had months of nightly bombing and slept in the subways (or as the Brits would say the tube). In Paris the Nazis controlled the city. We knew our troops were going through a living hell in places like Guadalcanal, Bougainville and Anzio. Knowing what our allies in Europe were living with every day and what our troops were going through, made living in New York seem pretty good.

In early June 1942 the battle of Midway took place. We didn't know it at the time but this was the turning point of the war in the Pacific. Both sides lost a large number of men, planes and ships but the Japanese navy would never recover. We still had years ahead of fighting, but we were now finally on the offence. Our massive industrial machine was starting to crank out supplies and equipment in unimaginable quantiles.

I would receive a letter from Pete every couple of weeks. His letters to me were much more detailed than the ones he sent to our parents, which were designed not to create any unnecessary worry. I suspect his letters to his wife Janice were similar with the lack of war details for the same reason. Mom used to read his letters to me, so I knew what he was trying to do. He was stationed in various air bases in the Pacific and there were many times when these bases were bombed. Something he never told our parents, but he explained it to me in his letters.

Knowing Pete he was probably trying his best to discourage me from enlisting by letting me know how bad things were in the Pacific. I'm sure he was hoping the war would be over before I graduated from Columbia. I was about to receive my engineering degree in 1944. I knew in my heart I had sat out the war long enough, my country needed me and it was time for me to go.

# Chapter 16: The gust lock that almost killed me.

On December 1, 1944 I enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Force. I knew I needed to join the fight with Pete. Because I had a pilot's license I thought the best place for me would be in the Air Force. My goal was to fly one of the new P-51 Mustang fighter planes. The training would be tough and take months but I knew this is where I could best serve my country.

There were three levels of training you had to complete before you could even mutter the words fighter pilot. The first was primary training. This was conducted by civilian pilots under contract with the army. The planes you flew were slow but rugged PT-22s. You learned to take off and land and eventually soloed if you didn't wash out. If the instructor felt you were not progressing as planned he would eliminate you from the program, wash you out. If this happened you would then be sent to either, navigator, bombardier, or gunnery school.

The second step was basic training. Things got much tougher here. The planes were bigger with more power. Usually Vultee BT-13s were the plane of choice, sometimes referred to as the Vultee vibrator. Their 450 horse power radial engine shook both the ground and the pilot when you gave them full throttle on takeoff. The instructors were no longer civilian contractors, these guys were all army and by the book. My instructor made this really clear on the first day of training when he said. "There are only two ways to fly, the army way and the wrong way." These guys were tough and it was easy to wash out even if you had prior experience.

The third step was advanced training. Here you got to fly the T-6 Texan. It was faster than the BT-13, and got you closer to fighter plane performance. Things happened fast and you were required to perform all kinds of g-force maneuvers. Such as rolls, spins, loops and other more complicated fighter tactics.

I don't want to break my dad's rule about bragging, but I think primary flight school was much easier for me then it was for most other cadets. Uncle Gino did a really good job getting me ready for military pilot training. By the time I started primary training I already had my civilian pilot's license and almost one hundred hours of flying time under my belt. Although, the Army didn't seem to care if you had any flight experience or not, as everyone started from square one.

By the first week of April 1945 I had completed my primary training in a PT-22 which took place in Alabama. The next phase was basic training in Laredo, Texas. The first phase of my training in the army taught me more about patience than it did about flying. The army had the planes required to train the new cadets but there was a shortage of instructors. So after completing primary training I had a three week wait before starting basic flight training. For me waiting three weeks for anything was hard, but when you're in Henderson Airfield in Millers Ferry, Alabama three weeks to a New York boy can seem like three years.

On Monday April 30th I finally arrived in Laredo, Texas to start my basic training. I never thought I would be so glad to see Texas again. When I was here in 1936 it was a dust bowl, but conditions now were much better.

Shortly after arriving in Laredo things started happening quickly. I was assigned to an instructor and shared time with two other cadets flying a BT--13. I learned quickly that basic training was much harder than primary training in Alabama. The B-13 was bigger and faster than anything I flew in the past. The instructors were tougher and much more demanding. The training was intense but I felt I was doing well. After a few days in the big Vultee BT-13 I was feeling right at home. On May 7th I landed with my instructor late in the afternoon and was heading back to the barracks, a steel Quonset hut just behind the flight line. When one of the ground crew guys said. "Hey did you hear the news? The krauts surrendered!" I wasn't overly surprised, US troops were in West Germany and the Russians were in East Germany, so what little was left of the Germany army was surrounded. So I thought to myself, I guess now I will be heading to the Pacific in a couple of months after advanced fighter training. Perhaps I will be on the same base as Pete.

By late June I had completed my basic training and would graduate in a few days. Soon I would be off to advance training and flying a T-6 Texan, then hopefully get assigned to a P-51 squadron in the Pacific.

A few weeks before heading off to advance training I was ordered to fly an older BT-13 to Randolph Field, our base in San Antonio, Texas. Some of these old bird were being placed in surplus. With the war over in Europe the demand for new pilots was being cut back and older planes were no longer needed. The flight to Randolph was about one hundred miles from Laredo. So it should take me about forty five minutes.

The older BTs were parked at the end of the runway a good distance from our barracks near the base first aid station. One of our ground crew guys drove me to the end of the field that morning and I started my preflight check on this old worn out BT. Just when I was doing my walk around I heard my friend Jerry Tobias, a fellow cadet call my name. He was walking with two new Army nurses showing them the base.

"Hey John, where are you taking that old pile of junk." He called out in a joking way.

"She's off to surplus in San Antonio Jerry."

"John I would like you to meet Lynn and Cathy. They have both been assigned to the base and I'm just giving them the twenty-five cent tour." He said. "Say John you're from New York right? Lynn's a New York girl."

Just then I remembered something my mother once told me. "When the right girl comes along you'll know." I never believed it until that moment. It may sound funny but I guess it was love at first sight. I just knew Lynn was the one. Well perhaps I didn't realize it until I took off that morning and the wheels left the ground.

We chatted for a few minutes about New York and the war but I had to get going. There was a C-47 transport plane scheduled to leave San Antonio in a little over an hour heading back to Laredo, and if I missed it I would have to hitch a ride with one of the base supply trucks to get back. A three hour rough ride in a one and a half ton cargo truck through Texas was not something I was looking forward to.

Normally the planes are parked on the tarmac alongside the runway. So you would taxi them down the taxi way, run up the engine and go through the preflight check just before reaching the end of the runway. However this plane was parked in the grass at the end of the active runway, so all I had to do was run up the engine for the pre-flight check, get clearance from the tower and take off. I said goodbye to Lynn, Cathy and Jerry. Then Jerry said. "Say why don't we all meet for a drink tonight at the Rusty Spur?" A small road house bar that had cold beer and great hamburgers.

"That would be great." I said. Lynn and Cathy agreed.

As they left I climbed into the BT's cockpit and started the engine. It was like all other BTs vibrating and burning oil. However, this one shook more and smoked more than the others I'd flown. I ran up the engine and went through the check list rather quickly. I was running late and wanted to catch the return flight back. I had other things on my mind now, meeting Lynn for a drink tonight. The tower cleared me for takeoff so I gave the old bird full throttle and we were off.

As soon as I broke ground I realized something was wrong, very wrong. When I pulled back on the stick to lift off it was tight like something was jammed. I didn't notice it at first when I pushed the stick forward to pick up the tail on the take-off run. I could move the rudder pedals and could bank the plane with the ailerons but the elevator was partially jammed. I had some play in it, enough to lift off the runway but not enough to climb normally.

Once I was in the air I had a pretty good idea as to what was causing this but didn't want to believe it. I couldn't be this careless I thought, but I knew I was. I left the gust lock on the elevator. Gust locks are two long thin strips of plywood about three feet long, attached together with a screw in the center. Usually one goes on the rudder and one goes on the elevator attached to the tail of the airplane. They're put in place to protect the rudder and elevator from flopping around in the wind when the plane is parked. For some reason there was only one gust lock attached on this plane which clamped the elevator and the horizontal stabilizer together. The one on the rudder was never installed. A good thing or the controls would have really been locked, on the other hand, perhaps I would have saw that one and would have removed them both, who knows.

Normally I check the plane over thoroughly before takeoff. I learned this before my army days when Uncle Gino was teaching me to fly. This time I didn't, I was late and when I met Lynn I guess my mind went in another direction. I wasn't thinking about the task on hand and missed and important step.

Once in the air and gaining altitude slowly at a little over 100 feet a minute. I turned around in the seat and I saw it, the gust lock well attached. I had a little play in the stick so I rolled back on the trim tab. The trim tab is a small elevator attached to the elevator used to fine tune the plane in flight. It helps keep the plane flying level without the need to apply upward or downward pressure on the stick. In this case I was using it to help me gain a little more altitude.

Fortunately I was in Texas and the land was flat, unlike New York with hills and mountains to deal with. So I had some time to try to figure out what to do. At first all I could think about was how stupid I was to let something like this happen. Then I thought I was going to be washed out after all this time because of my carelessness. What would I tell my family, what would Uncle Gino say? I was in a real mess. Gino use to say most aircraft accidents are the results of three errors. Well I already made two, I didn't see the gust lock on the tail when I did my pre-flight walk around, and I didn't fully check the controls when I did my check list run up on the ground. Now I needed to make sure I don't make error number three because there will be no way to recover.

I got the airplane up to about one thousand feet off the ground. Even though the rudder and ailerons were free I couldn't make any step turns. When you turn an airplane you bank it into the turn and you need to compensate for the loss of lift in the turn with some back pressure on the stick. I could provide a little because the gust lock wasn't that tight but I couldn't chance a 180 degree turn back to the airport. Partly because I was concerned about the loss of lift and could lose control and crash, but if I returned to base with this gust lock in place even if I didn't crash trying to land I would be washed out. There had to be a better solution.

Just then I spotted a dirt road about two miles straight ahead. In this situation there is one nice thing about flying over Texas, they have dirt roads ever where. I stopped beating myself up and now I had a plan. I would power back and set up for a landing on this old dirt road. I had to use the trim and the flaps to make up for the lack of elevator control and try to balance my approach with the power. It wasn't going to be easy. There would be no margin for error. The good news was the road was straight ahead. The bad news was not only the obvious lack of elevator control but I was going to be landing with the wind. I could see smoke coming from a factory in the distance off to my left and I noticed the wind direction had changed, just my luck. This meant I was going to hit the dirt road at a much faster speed than I would if I was heading into the wind. There was probably a five mile per hour breeze, not bad but it would have been better if it were coming from the opposite direction. I wasn't going to be able to round out the airplane and make a perfect three point landing. I would have to make a wheel landing. This meant the tail would be off the ground and only the main landing gear would be on the road until I could power back and slow the plane down with the brakes. These old dirt roads usually have a crown in the center and with a wheel landing if I wasn't careful the tip of the prop could catch that crown and flip me over. So to make things even more challenging I needed to try to land with one wheel closer to the center of the road.

I powered back the big Pratt and Whitney and applied ten degrees of flaps to slowly get down. I would only have one shot of making this so it needed to be perfect. It was a balancing act using the little play left in the stick and the trim to ease the descent. I lined up the road ahead the best I could with the nose of the plane. Only about a mile out now with four hundred feet to descend. Pulled back more on the throttle, added twenty more degrees of flaps, and cranked back a little more on the trim with not much left. The road was coming up fast and I was coming in hot at about ninety five miles an hour. I needed to slow this big old bird down but couldn't risk stalling. Full flaps now and throttle back to just above an idle. A little right rudder to get me just off center of the road.

Then bang both wheels hit the dirt at about seventy five miles per hour. I powered back all the way. I was using both my feet working the breaks and the rudder so I didn't go off the road. It was one hell of a bumpy ride but I slowed it down and finally got the tail wheel on the ground.

As I came to a halt I couldn't believe I made it. I jumped out and quickly removed the gust lock. Once I got it off I threw it out into the field like a boomerang. As I jumped back into the plane I saw a pick-up truck coming down the road towards me. I needed to get out of here and back into the air as fast as possible. So I gunned the throttle and held the left break, spun around in a 180 degree turn and took off with dust flying like a small sand storm.

Once in the air I took a deep breath and felt really cold. It was in the mid-eighties that day but I was just one big pool of perspiration. Every inch of me was wet and cold. I slid the Plexiglas canopy all the way forward closed and turned on the heat for a few minutes. Then made a turn over the road and I could see the pick-up truck engulfed in the cloud of dust from my prop wash still swirling below. It was probably a local farmer in the pick-up truck who will perhaps tell the story of a plane he once saw taking off on a dirt road right in front of him for years to come.

Well I really learned my lesson and one I will never forget. Flying is serious business and it's something that can't be rushed. I delivered the BT in one piece to San Antonio and made it in time to catch the C-47 back to Laredo. I didn't know it then but it was a really lucky day for me. Not only did I avoid being washed out because of my carelessness it was also the day I met my wife.

That evening I met Jerry, Cathy and Lynn as planned. I never told them or anyone for that matter what happened that day. Lynn and I hit it off right away. We saw each other every evening for the next couple of weeks.

Then suddenly without warning my good luck changed. On Friday July 6th at around noon I was told to report to the base commanding officer. We only met once but as soon as I got to his office I knew I was in for some bad news. It was just one of those feelings you get and you never really know why. I stood at attention and as soon as he said at ease I could feel it coming. He paused for a second and said. "Son I have some bad news, your brother Pete has been reported missing. I just received word this morning and you are to report home for now and the Army will contact you with further orders as we learn more. I'm sorry."

I just stood there and didn't know what to say. I thought to myself, he's assigned to a B-29 base on a small island in the Pacific. Pete's a mechanic how could he be missing?

Because the war in Europe was over there were very few flights going east. Most of our flights were heading west as planes were on their way to the fight in the Pacific. So my only way home was to take the train back to New York, but first I needed to call home and speak to my mother and father. When I called my mother answered. She told me Dad was not feeling well and didn't go to work today. I knew he was taking this news hard. She said he couldn't come to the phone because he was sleeping. I knew then there was more going on with Dad's health than Mom was letting on. Dad did a good job hiding his health problems from us for years. The stress of his job on Wall Street during the worst depression in American history along with a heart problem he had as a result of a bout with rheumatic fever when he was a kid really took a toll on his health. I had to get home as fast as I could.

Even though Lynn and I had only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks I somehow felt she was the one. I wasn't sure if she felt the same way but I was pretty sure she felt something. I explained to her about Pete. Even though they never met she said she felt as if she knew him because I talked about him so often. We had dinner at a small Mexican restaurant that evening and said our goodbyes. We both promised to write and I told her I would call her in a few days.

# Chapter 17: Returning home.

After a long train ride from Texas I was finally home again. When the five Sullivan brothers were killed in the Pacific the war department wanted to make sure that families would not lose their last surviving son. So as soon as Pete was reported missing the army decided I should go home for a while, then placed on administrative duty until he was found. It was probably an easier decision for the army to make now since the demand for fighter pilots was waning with the war in Europe over.

I hadn't seen my parents in almost a year, but my father looked like he aged ten years since I saw him last. He was only forty five years old but he appeared much older. The stress of Wall Street, the war and now with Pete missing really took a toll on his already impaired heart.

I stayed with my parents for two weeks before I got the call to report to Fort Dix in New Jersey. It was a two hour ride from our house in Oscawana to Fort Dix, so I could make the trip back home on weekends. My job was to reassign equipment, mostly fighter planes returning from Europe that could be used in the Pacific. We would surplus the ones in poor condition and send the good ones west. These were mostly P-51Ds that will be needed if we were to invade Japan. The Japanese had nothing that could match the P-51 fighter or our B-29 bombers.

One afternoon at Fort Dix I went down to the mess hall to get a cup of coffee. While I was standing in line I saw a familiar face. It was Dave Chaoma my old friend from Cottonwood, Arizona. I hadn't seen Dave since we left Arizona in 1936. He was older but I would still know him anywhere. He was just one of those guys that didn't change much as he got older.

"Dave," I said

"John, is that really you?"

"Yes it's me Dave. You look great. What in the world are you doing here?"

"Well I just got back from two years in the Pacific, it was really rough John." He said. "I was a code talker."

"What in the world is a code talker Dave?" I asked.

"Early in the war the Japs were intercepting our radio transmissions. It didn't matter what language we spoke they always had someone who understood what we were saying. So the army call on us. The one language they can't understand is Navajo. Believe me there is no one in Japan that speaks our tongue. So Navajos could talk over the regular radio waves and the Japs never knew what we were saying."

"That's amazing Dave. Only in America could this happen. My Dad always said, we really are the melting pot of cultures and this really proves how we all benefit from what each culture brings to America. It's too bad it takes a war to make some people come to this realization." I said. It was something I learned from our trip in 1936 when I was just thirteen. There is a lot of value with our diversity in America, but it's often not appreciated until a crisis comes along to bring it to our attention.

"But what brings you to New Jersey Dave."

"I've been assigned here to help work on new ways to develop communications. If anyone ever figures out Navajo it would be good to have other ways and other languages to use. We have some other American Indian languages in the east coast that could be of value as well." He told me. "Say John, how are your parents doing, how's Pete doing? Do you still have Doro that great Yellow Lab?"

I explained to Dave that we are still waiting for news on Pete and I told him about my dad's health problems. I could tell he was shocked when he heard the news about both Pete and Dad. Then I told him. "Yea we still have Doro. He is almost thirteen now and slowing down some but he's in good shape for an old boy."

"Wow that's great. I will never forget him and the day he saved me from drowning."

"Say Dave do you have plans this weekend? Why don't you come home with me? I know my parents would love to see you and you could see Doro as well."

"That would be great John."

That Friday afternoon I picked up Dave and we drove north to Oscawana. As we were driving Dave gave me some more bad news. "Say John, did you hear about Mike Risk? He was killed in the battle for Guadalcanal."

This really hit me hard. Mike was a great kid. I only knew him for a short time but I will never forget how he stuck by me day after day searching for Doro when he was lost in Arizona.

"Oh, that's terrible Dave. Do you know how it happened?"

"Yea, I heard he jumped on a Jap grenade that landed next to him and some other guys. He smothered the blast with his body and saved the lives of three other Marines."

Wow, what a guy I thought to myself. Here he was a kid from Oklahoma whose family lost everything in the dust bowl and had to live in a tiny one room cabin in Arizona. He never complained and was always willing to help anyone. He stuck with me for days looking for my dog and now he dies saving the lives of three other Marines. There has to be a special place in heaven for people like this.

I called my mother earlier to let her know Dave was coming home with me. Both she and dad were really excited to see him after nine years. Dad had been in contact with Dave's father for years sending him donations for the camp but they only spoke on the phone or through letters.

When we arrived at our house both Mom and Dad were really glad to see Dave and asked him how his parents and his brother were doing. He said they were all fine and thanked my dad again for all the help he had given to the camp in Cottonwood and to his father. Then Dave saw Doro. Doro had been in the back yard with George Gray cutting grass and didn't realize we pulled up. His hearing is not what it once was.

It was hard to believe but Doro seemed to remember Dave as soon as he saw him. As Dave bent down and hugged him I couldn't help but think about what Doro did that day in Arizona when he saved Dave from drowning. Not only did he save Dave but it's very possible he saved many American lives as well. Without Dave and the other Navajo code talkers the Japanese would have understood our messages and who knows how many Marines may have lost their lives taking back the islands in the Pacific.

As Dave was hugging Doro I could see his eyes were tearing up. He whispered something in Navajo into Doro's ear. I never asked him what he said but I have a pretty good idea.

That evening after dinner Mom gave me some more bad news. She told me Al Hurlburt was killed in Iwo Jima. He died taking out a Japanese machine gun nest that had our Marines pinned down. Iwo Jima was a key position for us it the war with Japan. Taking the island cost the lives of many Marines, but it saved the lives of many airmen. Without the landing strip on Iwo many B-29 and P-51 airman would have been lost at sea.

I can't say I liked Al Hurlburt, but now I really had to rethink my feels about him. Here was a guy that had very few friends but when the chips were down he sacrificed himself for his country and his fellow Marines. As I thought about it, it was becoming clear to me why we were winning the war. We had guys like Al Hurlburt, Mike Risk, Dave Chaoma, and of course my brother Pete. There was something about these guys and thousands more like them that no other country could match. Like Jessie Owns and Joe Lewis, they met the challenge head on and rose to the occasion. They even took it one giant step further and risked it all for our country and our way of life. These are the people that make America great.

I was settling in at Fort Dix, on weekends I would drive home if I could get the gas. We were still on gas rationing so sometimes I would have to take the train. Dad's health seemed to be improving. He had to take a leave of absence from work and the rest seemed to be working wonders. Financially Mom and Dad were in good shape, Mom was still teaching school. Dad was spending much of his time working around the yard with George Gray. George was a great guy, he always made sure Dad didn't overdo it. It was kind of nice to see Dad, George and Doro all out working in the garden.

It was Monday August 6, 1945 and I was heading back to Fort Dix early that morning. Just as I was crossing the George Washington Bridge and entered New Jersey I heard the news that changed the world for ever. A B-29 called "Enola Gay" dropped an atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima. This one bomb destroyed most of the city. Our scientist somehow figured out a way to split the atom and the atomic age was born. It was hard for me to understand what the Japanese were trying to prove. The war was really over for them but yet they kept fighting on at the cost of thousands of lives. It made no sense.

Then three days later another B-29 called "Bockscar" dropped an even bigger bomb on the city of Nagasaki. Even then it took several days and intervention from their emperor before they finally surrendered. The war was finally over. It took almost four years and many thousands of lives. While we were all glad it finally ended, it was still not over for our family. We needed to find out about Pete. Was he still alive? We needed answers.

The worst part of Pete disappearance was that the army did not consider him missing in action. He was stationed at North Field on the island of Tinian. The island is only about seven miles long and three miles wide. So where could he be?

Shortly after the surrender of Japan, Dad and I sent letters to the army and the war department trying to get some answers. Both my dad and I tried every avenue we could to get the Army to give us more information. To be fair they were really busy. The war was over but both Japan and much of Europe was a real mess. They were trying to discharge thousands of troops, redeploy weapons and equipment, and negotiating with the Russians on how to divide Europe. There were a large number of missing U.S. military personnel that needed to be accounted for in both theaters at wars end. So while it was frustrating for my family we all needed to be patient and let the military do their job.

In Europe, the allied troops were uncovering some really horrific things that occurred in Nazi prison camps. While these were horrible torture camps for civilians, for some reason the captured military POWs were actually treated better in Germany then they were in Japan. We later learned a much higher percentage of captured allied troops died in Japanese prison camps then did in German camps. In Japanese prison camps many soldiers died because of lack of food and torture. A number of POWs were being hidden in the mountains of Japan and as soon as the war ended their guards deserted the camps in fear of reprisal. Was it possible that somehow Pete was alive in one of these camps? How could he have been captured I wondered? He was stationed on and American held island repairing B-29s.

Then on September 29, 1945 we got our answer. A U.S. P.O.W. was rescued by the Marines from a Japanese prisoner of war camp near Tokyo. He was Lieutenant Greg Brennan a B-29 co-pilot and the only survivor from his plane called "Cloud Buster" that crashed during the firebombing of Tokyo. The fire bombing missions took place several weeks before the dropping of the first atomic bomb. These were low level missions, and in some cases flown at just over five thousand feet. Greg told the army his plane was shot down by ground fire. No one had time to bail out. The pilot crash landed the plane in a wooded area. Two men got out but the plane went up in flames in seconds. The other man was Pete. He died from injuries just minutes before the Japanese military arrived and Greg was captured.

B-29s were an engineering marvel, they could carry a much heavier bomb load then the earlier B-17s and could cruise at almost 50 miles per hour faster. However, they were rushed into production and not fully tested. More B-29s went down due to mechanical problems then were shot down by the Japanese. Apparently Pete was determined to fix these problems. According to the report, Pete was frustrated by the problems with their Pratt and Whitney engines. These were very complex turbocharger radial engines, and they were failing regularly. He was determined to get to the bottom of it. So without orders or permission from anyone he jumped into one of the B-29s just before they took off on its mission over Tokyo. Greg wasn't sure what data Pete felt he could obtain by doing this and even though perhaps he may have used this as an excuse just to go on a combat mission. He stated that neither he nor the pilot realized Pete was on board until they were in the air for almost two hours. Pete told them he needed to observe the engines in flight so he could better understand the issues and then he could make some modifications.

I guess no one will ever know why he did this without orders. My strong feeling was he had a solution in mind, he always did. Of course this was bad news and we were all heart broken, but now at least we had some closure. It's still hurts knowing his body will always remain someplace in Japan. For my family it was the worst of times but we all need to move on.

In November just after thanksgiving I was discharged from the air force. Because my pilot training was suspended and now with the war over, it didn't make sense for the army to continue my training. So I received an honorable discharge. I hadn't seen Lynn in months but we wrote and spoke on the phone once a week. She was still stationed in Texas but was now going to take an assignment working in the veterans' hospital in New York City. This was great news and would give us both a chance to get to know one another better.

The following year 1946 was a good one. In January I started a job with IBM in Poughkeepsie. It was a great company and I would have a really nice career working for them for the next thirty five years. Lynn and I really got to know each other that year and we were married in October. After four years of war time stress and losing my brother, the best friend I ever had, now life seemed to be taking a more positive turn.

Thanks to some help from my parents Lynn and I were able to buy a nice little house in Croton not far from my family in Oscawana. Lynn was discharged from the army and landed a good job as a nurse in Grasslands Hospital in Valhalla. It was about a thirty minute commute south from Croton, and I had a forty five minute commute north. We left the house every morning heading in opposite directions but all and all things were working out fine. Lynn really enjoyed my family and she really looked forward to our Sunday family dinners at the Shadowbrook.

In 1948 my son Rob was born. Then in 1949 my daughter Judy, Don in 1951 and Nancy in 1953. The house was full and with Lynn no longer working we were just making ends meet, but I wouldn't have changed a thing. Occasionally I made some extra money working for Gino teaching flying but his flight school and charter flight service always seemed to stay just one step ahead of his creditors. So by 1952 I did very little flying. It was okay because IBM was really growing and I started to do pretty well getting promotions and salary increases.

Just when things seemed to be going really well, life threw me yet another curve. 1953 was not going to be a good year. My grandfather had been battling a long illness and he passed away in January. His passing was a real blow to me. Grandpa and I were very close. He lived with us from the time I was ten years old, and I will never forget all those games of pool we played in the evenings after dinner all winter long.

In March Old George Gray finally agreed to move in with his sister in New York City. She had been trying to get him to move in with her for years. She was very well off and she correctly felt he would be much better off living with her instead of living in the old shed in back of our house. Now he would have his own room in a really nice apartment. When Grandpa passed away George just seemed to know it was time for him to move on. I know he always felt Grandpa was his best friend, and things would never be the same here without George. He was a really good man that unfortunately had to live with his own demons, but always did his best to never let it show.

Then in late September the big blow came. My dad died suddenly at home of a heart attack. It happened early one Monday morning. By the time the Ambulance got him to the hospital he was already gone. He was only fifty three.

It has been eight years since we received the news of Pete's passing. However, I don't think dad ever got over Pete's death, he just wasn't the same after that. Now at thirty years old I lost three people that were not only really close to me, but who changed my life and helped me become the person I am. For some reason Dad's passing just didn't seem real, it seemed to take a long time before I could come to terms with the fact it really happened. For weeks afterwards I would read something in the sports page, or hear a news item on the radio and think to myself I need to call Dad, I wonder what he thinks? Then suddenly I would realize he wasn't there any longer for me to call.

Now Mom and Grandma were alone in the big house overlooking the Hudson. Mom was financially well off but she still taught school. She was only fifty three and really enjoyed her work. Grandma however, never liked New York winters and decided to move to Florida with her sister, my Aunt Ida. I don't think it was just the winters she wanted to get away from, it was the constant reminders of the loss of her son and her husband here in New York. She was getting up in years and always wanted to move to Florida but Grandpa was not interested in leaving New York. Now was her chance so she left right after Thanksgiving before winter hit the Hudson Valley.

Mom was now alone in the big house. So I tried to convince her to down size to a smaller home, but she wouldn't even consider it. I know sometimes when women lose their husbands it can be very confusing when it comes to things like handling money or maintaining a house. So often in a marriage these are the man's area of expertise, and they were my dad's as well. However, my mom was not that type of woman. Even though dad handled most of the investments, she was very aware and more than capable of taking the reins. She was also very willing to make sure the house and yard were always well maintained. She had a list of contractors and knew how to get things done, and was very handy in her own right.

Even though she had things well under control she asked me to consider selling our house and having Lynn, me and the kids move in with her. I tried to convince her she would be losing her privacy, and while I know she was crazy about her grandchildren. Having all four of them around twenty four seven could be a bit much. She convinced me that it was something she would look forwarded to. She said "It's a big house with plenty of room, it was built by your father and grandfather for a large family. It's just not being utilized to its full capacity. This house needs a family. Give it some thought John. Talk it over with Lynn, but if she is the least bit uncomfortable living here, please don't push it. I understand completely. I will be more than fine here alone, just give it some thought, and see what she thinks."

When I mentioned it to Lynn she was surprisingly excited. She loved the house and always got along really well with my mother. So we put our house on the market, it sold quickly and we moved in with Mom in June 1954.

# Chapter 18: Was there a slight hiccup in his well laid plan?

By 1954 Uncle Gino's flight school and charter air service business was in real financial trouble. The only thing that kept Gino and Marisa going was his job tending bar at the Shadowbrook, and her job with General Motors as an accountant. Marisa no longer waited tables at night, she went to school during the day and got a degree in accounting. Now she was doing very well working at GM. However, their marriage was not doing well. As things got worst with Gino's business he drank more and paid attention to Marisa less. Most of their combined salaries went to bailing out the failing flight school and charter service. The US was still in a post war recession and most people didn't have the disposable income to spend on flying lessons or chartered flights to the Hamptons or the Jersey shore as he planned.

Gino however never wanted to give up his passion for flying and running Croton Airport. So he decided to make a bold move, although a very foolish one. He bought a brand new Cessna 195. This was Cessna's top of the line single engine plane in their Business Liner class. It was a beautiful airplane, perhaps the most beautiful single engine plane ever built. It had a cruising speed of 170 and it could seat 4 passengers plus the pilot. It was also expensive at $15,000, and costly to fly, it had a big 300 horse power Jacobs' radial engine that was always thirsty for more fuel.

Gino's thought was that with this new plane he could now fly people to Montauk or the Jersey shore in less than an hour. Nice idea but not based on a solid business plan. It was just too costly for most people to charter a private plane, and if they did they would still need a car to go to the beach or out to dinner. So they just drove the three hours. Marisa understood how flawed his plan was from day one, but she couldn't talk him out of it. I think she knew this was the beginning of the end for his business and perhaps their marriage.

Gino was an extremely bright guy, but he is what I would call in the moment smart. When problems arose in the moment instinctively he always seemed to do right thing. This is what made him such a good pilot and a great wit behind the bar. However when it came to planning for the future he was like a eight year old kid with a pocket full of money in a candy store. He was always a genius in the moment but a fool in the future.

As things got worse and winter came to New York, Gino wanted to get away. So he and Marisa flew off in the new plane for a week in Miami Beach Florida. Not the best idea for two people in financial trouble, and to make matters even worse they stayed at one of the best and most expensive hotels in Miami the new Fontainebleau. When a marriage is in trouble and financial problems are one of the underlying causes, it's probably not the best idea to fly in plane that contributed to those problems and stay at a hotel you can't afford for a week during the peak season in Miami. So this just lead to more fights with Gino retreating to the pool side bar talking to all the young twenty somethings in their bikinis. As the week ended and they started back to New York tension in the marriage was at the breaking point. To make matters worse the national weather service was predicting rain and cold weather all the way up the east coast for the next few days. Marisa wasn't the most relaxed flyer and these conditions didn't help the situation. By the time they got to Norfolk Virginia and landed to refuel. It all came unraveled. Marisa had it with flying in such bad weather and asked or perhaps insisted that they spend the night and wait out the weather. Gino didn't want to hear it and told her he had enough and was going on to New York. So Marisa told him to go and took her bags off the plane and would take the train home. She didn't realize it then but that was to be the last time she would ever see Gino again. He took off from Norfolk at 6:00 pm and at 6:45 pm Air Traffic Control received a mayday call from him. He reported over water, experiencing heavy icing and was losing altitude rapidly. Then a minute later he reported he was going down into the ocean but spotted an oil tanker and was trying to reach it.

Marisa was staying at a hotel near the airport that night and told the hotel shuttle driver about her husband flying back to New York alone on the ride to the hotel. She told the driver she was taking the train home in the next morning. Early that morning the driver heard about a plane that was lost at sea on the radio that night and had the hotel manager contact Marisa to find out if this was her husband. When the manager called she hadn't heard about Gino's distress call that evening. She contacted the FAA and they verified the distress call was from him and they have been searching for his plane all night. She quickly called Uncle Ray (Gino's older brother) and explained to him what happened. She told him in tears over the phone, "The coast guard has been out all night searching for him and they will be sending additional planes out today. I can't believe I let him go alone."

"Just catch the next train home and I will have someone pick you up at Croton station. Just go home and I will talk to you when you get here." He said as he was trying to stay calm.

Then Uncle Ray called me and we decided to help join the search. I contacted a close family friend Jim Martin who ran a seaplane base on the Hudson. Jim owned a twin engine amphibious plane called a Widgeon. We thought this would be the perfect search and rescue plane if Gino was alive in the water. Jim was glad to help and he and I flew down to Long Island and picked up Uncle Ray.

That day the three of us flew for four hours all along the coast of New Jersey as far south as Rehoboth Beach Delaware, We spent the next two nights in Cape May, New Jersey and for the next two days we continued to search. We flew for hours scanning the horizon from both sides of the plane. After several days we still couldn't find even a trace of Gino or his the plane. The Coast Guard continued the search for the rest of the week before the finally called it off.

It was hard for me to believe that Gino disappeared without a trace. Somehow I always thought we would find him sitting in a small life raft with his Mae West life jacket tied around his waist and his Yankee Cap perched on his head smoking a Cuban cigar. It became clear that realistically this wasn't going to happen. He was gone.

Uncle Ray flew back to Croton with Jim and me. We thanked him for all he did and both of us knew we were lucky to have a friend like him. He spent three days flying in his plane and all he charged us for was the fuel.

Now we had to tell the rest of the family there was really no hope. The water was just too cold for anyone to survive, even if he was able to get out after the crash. I think they all knew by now but somehow with us delivering the message to the family it made it final.

Four years have passed since Gino's disappearance, and now it's December 31, 1958, New Year's Eve. Every New Year's Eve Lynn and I get a baby sitter for the kids and spend the evening with our families at the Shadowbrook. Nonno and Nonna are retired and no longer run the restaurant. My Cousin Karla, my Uncle Ray's daughter and her husband now run the business. They both graduated from the culinary institute in Hyde Park and have been doing a great job with the food and running the restaurant. We were all glad the place remained in the family.

While the rest of the family was finishing their deserts in the dining room. I snuck out to the bar alone for a Galliano liqueur on the rocks with a twist of lime. Every time I sat at this bar I always thought of Gino. His great simile with those perfect white teeth, with the wit and personality like no one I ever met. Ever since I was old enough to drink Gino always poured me a Galliano on the rocks with lime after dinner. As I was sitting their thinking about him I heard this voice "Hey, Happy New Year John." It's an old friend from the restaurant Phil Neff and his wife Cathy.

"Oh Happy New Year Phil, Cathy. Long time no see, how are you both doing?"

"Fine John." Phil replies, "Say I'm really glad I ran into you this evening. I have something I want to tell you. Cathy and I just got back from Florida, my son Bobby is in the navy and is stationed in Key West. So we flew down and saw him in September. While we were there we thought we would take a day trip to Havana. You know John, Cuba is only 90 miles from Key West, so the flight only took about a half hour. We only spent the day in the city, did a little gambling and were back by midnight."

"That sounds nice I always wanted to do that Phil." I replied.

"Yea, yea it was, but here's what I wanted to tell you. I've been debating whether or not I should say something, but John I really think I saw your Uncle Gino."

"What, are you kidding Phil? Come on!"

"No John, I would never say something like this unless I really thought it was true. Cathy and I were having dinner in the Havana Hilton. As we were eating I saw this guy tending bar in the next room and he look very familiar to me. So after dinner I said to Cathy let's have a drink at the bar after dinner. We have time before the last flight out for Key West.

As we walk up to the bar the guy looks at me as if he knew me, then turns around quickly and waits on another guy sitting at the bar. Finally he comes over and ask us what we would like. His hair was a little gray and he had a mustache. I told him he look very familiar and asked if he was from New York, he said no Chicago. John I got to tell you he sounded just like Gino. I didn't press it. He gave us our drinks and sort of stayed away from us at the other end of the bar."

I like Phil Neff but I never felt he would be a totally credible witness in a trial. So at that point I was starting to tune out on his Havana Gino sighting.

"Well John, I only met Gino a few times so I really don't know, but Phil was very sure. That's all he talked about on the flight all the way back to Key West." Cathy said.

Then everything changed.

Cathy said "Well whoever he was he seemed like a nice guy, right Phil? When we were about to leave I got hiccups and he came over with a glass of water with a spoon in it and said drink this down all of it. I did and would you believe it the hiccups totally went away."

"Wait, what Cathy? Did he happen to say anything then?" I asked.

"Yes, what was it Phil? Oh I know, she said. 'Cures them every time and doesn't cost a dime. He was really funny."

I couldn't believe what she just said. Gino would always give Pete and me a Coke from the bar when we were kids, and when I drank it too fast I got hiccups. Then Gino would gave me a glass of water with the spoon in the glass and tell me to drink it all. The hiccups would go away and he would always say. "Cures them every time and doesn't cost a dime." When he was working the bar at the Shadowbrook years later I must have seen him do this and say the same thing a dozen times. It had to be him, who else would do this and say the same thing? Phil knew him and he seems sure it was Gino. Now after hearing Cathy telling me what occurred I knew I needed to call my Uncle Ray in Long Island. So I excused myself from the bar and went back to the kitchen to use the phone.

"Karla, I need to call your dad. Can I use the phone? Do you think he's home?"

"Yea, he's home John. He and mom never go out on New Year's Eve. Here's his number. What's up?"

"I'll tell you in a few minutes it's unbelievable."

Uncle Ray was the smartest guy I knew now that my dad was gone. As soon as I heard Cathy Neff's story I knew I needed to call him. I was sure he would know what to do. He was a retired Eastern Airline Captain, and always seemed to have all of life's experience under his belt and seemed to always have the answers.

For some reason as I was dialing the phone my hands started to shake. My mouth was getting dry so I asked one of the busboys that just walked into the kitchen if I could have a glass of water. Finally my aunt Mary answered the phone. I guess she could tell from my voice that something had me dazed. She asked if I was alright. I told her I was fine and sorry I was calling so late, but I needed to get some advice on something from Uncle Ray. She said. "No problem John, he is right here watching Guy Lombardo."

"Hey John, what's up kid." Uncle Ray said as soon as he got on the phone.

"Sorry I'm calling you so late Uncle Ray but a very strange thing just happened and I really need some advice. I met a guy and his wife at the bar, you may know them Phil and Cathy Neff. I know this is going to sound crazy but they both claim they saw Gino tending bar in a hotel in Havana Cuba two months ago."

"Ah John, don't believe that stuff. Anytime a person goes missing like Gino did someone's imagination starts to run wild and they think they see them. It happens all the time. John, Gino is gone. He is in that 195 sitting at the bottom of the Atlantic."

"I know what you mean about people thinking they see people that are dead but listen to this. Phil use to come into the Shadowbrook all the time and he knows Gino, granted not all that well because Phil came in during the day most of the time and Gino worked nights, but he was really sure. When he approached him Phil says the guy looked like he recognized him and turned away. He said his voice was the same but he had a mustache and more gray hair."

"No John, Phil wanted to see Gino. So do I but that wasn't him, forget about it."

"Uncle Ray that's what I thought until Phil's wife Cathy chimed in. She said as they were leaving the bar she got hiccups and the bar tender gave her a glass of water with a spoon. When the hiccups went away the bar tender said 'Cures them every time and doesn't cost a dime.' Uncle Ray this is what Gino use to say to Pete and I when we were kids. You remember he'd say and do the same thing at the bar all the time."

"Yea I remember." Ray said, then for about ten long seconds he said nothing. I thought for a second we got disconnected. Then he said "John I'm going to try to get a flight tomorrow to Miami, I don't think Eastern flies direct to Havana any longer. I have a good friend in Key West, Freddy Keys he has a charter flight service down there and I think he still flies to Havana. I will keep you posted."

"Wait Uncle Ray, can you get two tickets. I want to go with you."

"Okay John, are you sure? There is a lot going on in Cuba these days and I am not sure how safe it is."

"I am going with you Uncle Ray."

"Okay I will call you tomorrow. Happy New Year."

Early New Year's Day Ray called. "John I know it's early but I got a flight for us out of Idlewild for 11:00 am on Eastern."

"Great I'll meet you at the terminal. I'll be there by ten."

By 11:00 am we were in the air and on our way to Miami. Uncle Ray told me he tried to call Freddy Keys last night but his wife Candy said he was in Savannah, Georgia on a charter, she expects him to be back in Key West by 5:00 pm. Ray told her that would work out fine, we would meet them at their house by 5:00 pm and take them out to dinner.

It would take us almost four hours before we would land in Miami. We were flying on an old DC-7 prop plane that would soon be replaced by the new Boeing 707 jets. Somehow Ray got us an upgrade to first class so we had plenty of room. Because Uncle Ray lived in Long Island I never had much of a chance to talk to him as I would have liked to through the years. I always saw him on all the holidays and at numerous family events, but on this trip I had a chance to get to know him much better. In a way he was like the senior statesman in our family, my mom's older brother.

He asked. "Did you tell your mother what happened and where we were going?"

"Yes I explained the whole thing to her."

"What did she say?"

"Well at first she seemed shocked. Then she said she was concerned about you and me going to Cuba. You know with all the problems down there. Then she said we need to find out if this is true, but told me not to take any chances."

"Yea she's right. It's hard to believe but I don't think I could rest unless we at least try to find out." He replied. "Say did I ever tell you the day Gino bought that motorcycle from Bill Johnston? He had the thing a few weeks and one day he started doing donuts with it in the Shadowbrook parking lot. He fell off the stupid thing but it kept going right up the steps to the restaurant and right in the front door. He was alright until your grandmother heard the crash, and boy did he catch hell."

It was just another Gino story and one I never heard. There were many others like it and we exchanged some of them to kill time on the long flight to Miami.

We landed in Miami right on time at 3:00 pm, just in time to catch the next shuttle flight which would arrive in Key West airport in an hour. It was my first time in Key West and there is no other place in the U.S. quite like it. We took a cab to Freddy's house and when we got their Fred's wife Candy told us he wasn't home yet but she was expecting him any minute now. He was on route from Savannah with a couple of guys on a charter. Candy poured us a drink and just then Freddy walked in the door. He was really glad to see Ray his old flying buddy. I only met Fred once many years ago. Seeing him again was like looking into the history of aviation for the past forty years.

Over dinner it was great to hear Fred's old flying stories. Fred did it all when it came to flying and he had the scars to prove it. He had a scar over his right eye as a result of a crop dusting accident in Georgia in the mid-thirties. He was dusting a cotton field in an old Waco biplane when a flock of birds suddenly flew up and one went through the windshield and another jammed the air intake to the carburetor. So he had to put the plane down in the cotton field. The landing gear sunk into the soft dirt and the plane flipped over and the top wing held it up as Fred crawled away to safety. There was an old saying in the early days of aviation, any landing you walk away from was a good one. As Freddy tells it this was not a good landing because he crawled away.

He flew with the famous Flying Tigers in Burma during World War II, transporting supplies over the Himalayan Mountains. They referred to this as flying the hump. It was just another dangerous chapter in his long career as a pilot. In Key West he was as well-known as some of the resident celebrates that lived there such as Hemmingway and Tennessee Williams, who chartered flights with Fred on occasion.

Then after dinner Fred gave us the bad news. "Well I guess you guys didn't hear, Castro took over Havana last night," he said. "Eisenhower just put a restriction on all US travel to Cuba this afternoon. Sorry guys, even I can't get you in to Havana now. Why don't you stick around and stay with us, who knows this may all get resolved in a few days, and I'll be glad to fly you in?"

Uncle Ray and I were both shocked and disappointed. We were in flight from 11:00 am this morning and didn't have access to the news. So it looks like this was a wasted trip. As much as I would have liked to have stayed in Key West for a while I had to get back to work.

Uncle Ray thanked Freddy and Candy for the offer but told them we needed to go back to New York. Fred said he understood and told us he would fly us back to Miami whenever we were ready.

Well to say we were both really disappointed was an understatement. Uncle Ray told me this wouldn't last long and he thought we would be able to return in a few months. So as we headed back to New York all I thought of was going back to Key West in a few months and then on to Havana. I was sure it wouldn't be too long before we could return and find out for sure if it really was Gino.

# Chapter 19: The Sixties and Seventies.

It was New Year's Eve again and in just a few hours it would be 1965. Lynn and I were celebrating the New Year as we usually did with dinner at the Shadowbrook. It was hard to believe, five years passed since Phil and Cathy Neff told me the story about Gino in Havana. I always thought Uncle Ray and I would go to Cuba and find Gino. I imagined that after convincing him he should return home the three of us would fly back to New York together. However, Castro was still in power and too much time has gone by. Even if it was him he was probably long gone by now. If he was alive, he was probably tending bar at night and flying charters during the day in some place like Monte Carlo or Rio de Janeiro.

The early sixties were changing times in America. The economy was good and technology was changing our lives for the better. Color TVs were now perfected and affordable, large corporate computers made work easier, we even put a man into space, cars were getting better and faster every year, and gas was affordable at less than thirty five cents a gallon. However, the world was in turmoil as usual. In October 1962 the Russian's tried to put missiles in Cuba and for a short time it looked like there was going to be a third world war. The threat was put on hold when the Russian ships turned back and removed the missiles as President Kennedy stood firm. Much to the relief of everyone. Then a year later President Kennedy was assassinated. It was a shock to our country and it was hard to understand or believe.

I guess every decade has some good and some bad aspects. Life for Lynn and me was good. We both really liked living with mom and mom loved having her four grandchildren home with her. She was a wonderful grandmother and really didn't spoil any of the kids. Mom was sixty five now and retired from teaching school.

As I sat at the bar that New Year's Eve I couldn't help but think how lucky I have been to have a great family. While there were some real tough losses in my life, overall things turned out well. I thought about the evening in June 1936 when Pete and I thought we were off on a one year journey across America. As it turned out that trip changed our lives and perhaps changed the lives of others along the way. It was a brilliantly engineered idea by my father in teaching us things in life we may never had the opportunity to learn otherwise. At a young age we both got a lesson in understanding people in a way that I will never forget.

We still see our old friend Rubin Carpenter from time to time. He became a very successful investment manager. I know the trip in 1936 changed his life. Rubin made such an impression on my dad the day they met, that Dad wanted to help him with his education so he could pursue his career. Rubin was always very appreciative and thought of us as part of his family. He was married now to a wonderful woman and they had three great kids. They live in Morristown, New Jersey and every so often they would drive up to Oscawana and have dinner at the Shadowbrook. Rubin would always call us the night before and ask us to meet him at the restaurant. He never had Italian food until he came to stay with us in New York, and now it's his favorite.

In June of 1965 IBM sent me on a business trip to Atlanta, Georgia. Lynn and I haven't had a vacation alone together in years. My mom was more than willing to watch the kids, so I decided to take some time off and drive my new GTO to Atlanta. I hadn't been to Georgia in twenty eight years so I thought I would look up my old friend Jimmy Carpenter, Rubin's younger brother. We hadn't seen each other since that June day in 1936 when he was brought home from the hospital, still recovering from bee stings. Rubin gave me his address and after the meeting concluded at IBM Lynn and I went to see him. He was doing well, now living in Atlanta and owned a small hardware business. We met his wife and two daughters and had a great time. There was a lake in back of his house where we finished something we started almost three decades ago, fishing for catfish.

Jimmy and I were both in our forties now and even though it was a long time ago somehow it seemed like those days in 1936 just occurred. It's funny how some days stay with us forever while others are forgotten like a passing summer rain. I guess it was all part of my dad's grand plan. He made Pete and I believe we would be away from home for a year. So we took the trip and the people we met much more seriously than perhaps we would have if we thought it was just another family vacation. The two summers Jimmy's brother Rubin lived with us was another pleasant reminder of our time on the road, the people we met and those days in Athens, Georgia.

As we drove back to New York I told Lynn the story of that day Jimmy and I planned to go fishing and how it was interrupted by a nest of bees. I told her about a bigot named Dozer who saved his life. I knew she already heard the story a few times but she still listened as if it were the first. This was just one of the many fine qualities that made her the best wife in my eyes. She knew in my mind these were important events in my life, so she always endured my stories with patience and interest.

While we both missed the kids and wanted to get home. It was a great ten days together and one of the longest road trips I took since 1936. With four children and long hours at work, time off for a long road trip was hard to come by. The country was much different now. The depression was long gone, World War II and the Korean War were just a harsh memory. The roads were better with the new interstate system almost complete, and the cars were something we couldn't have even imagined back in the thirties. However there were still signs of Jim Crow in parts of the south.

The late 60s in America were not pleasant times in many ways. Martin Luther King an African American civil rights leader was assassinated. Then just a couple of months later Robert Kennedy while campaigning for president was assassinated. It was clear now the late sixties would be troubled times for the country and the rest of the world. The Vietnam War was becoming much more than US consultants advising South Vietnam how to defend themselves. It was now a full blown war and every day we would hear about more and more young soldiers dying. Their names were even listed each night on TV during the evening news. It was something I never thought I would see. It wasn't like World War II when the entire country was behind our cause. This was a confused and bitter time in American history. Some young people were protesting the war while others were dying. Some Americans even showed loathing for our military through negative articles written in newspapers, and in some extreme cases protesters showed up at airports with signs filled with hate as our military returned home.

The 60s had become a very different place in America. In World War II our soldiers returned home as heroes. Now their sons and daughters are returning home and some Americans are treating them as murderers. This was all hard to understand and very troubling.

Then in 1968 my biggest fear came to fruition. Rob my oldest son, at twenty decided he wanted to enlist in the Marines and fly helicopters. As I would watch footage of our helicopters going down in Vietnam on the evening news. All I could think of was we could lose him in a war that may not be worth fighting. Rob was more like Pete than me. Nothing scared him just like Pete, and like Pete he was going to put off collage to get into the fight.

There was a part of me that felt real pride in him for his bravery and willingness to defend America, but I was still upset with him for leaving collage. Mostly I was scared to death that I would lose him just like I lost Pete years ago, it was something I could't get out of my mind.

When he told Lynn and me of his decision I kept asking myself what my dad would have done to convince him to change his mind. I thought he would have known exactly what to say to get him to stay in school for at least two more years. Perhaps then the war would be over. As I thought about it I realized dad wasn't able to stop Pete from enlisting. However, that was a different war, those were different times, and we may have lost America if we didn't fight. In reality I doubt if dad even tried to convince Pete. Now Vietnam is an entirely different situation, they can't attack us like the Japanese did at Pearl Harbor. I wasn't sure I understood why we were in Vietnam. Honestly I guess I didn't think too much about it until Rob broke the news to Lynn and me.

I knew I had no chance of changing his mind, but I felt as a father I had to try. I asked him to reconsider and stay in school until he got his degree. Then if he still wanted to enlist he could, but as I expected his mind was made up.

A few weeks later we were seeing Rob off at Oscawana station just as our family did twenty seven years earlier when Pete left for the Pacific. Lynn and my daughters were in tears, my son Don and I tried to remain composed, as we wished him a safe return. However my stomach was in knots and I fought back the tears I could feel building up in my eyes. I couldn't bear the thought of possibly losing him as we lost Pete, but I realized the only thing I could do was pray for his safe return.

Vietnam was a terrible war. I think in some ways worst then World War II or Korea. I kept hearing that our soldiers weren't sure at times who the enemy was. There were guerrilla troops with had modern weapons and some were even women and children used by the Vietcong. No wonder so many of our young men came back with post war stress and drug problems. As the months went by I tried not to watch the war news on television. Sometimes just seeing one report on the news would ruin my whole day.

I made it clear to Don that when he graduated from high school in 1969 he was going to college for four years and not even going to think about enlisting. Our family made its contributions to protecting America. We lost Pete and now Rob was going to Vietnam. The thought of Don going would be too much for Lynn and me to bear.

The next couple of years were tough ones. Rob was flying helicopters in Vietnam in 1969 and we were worried about him every day. Just like Pete his occasional letters to Lynn and I made things seem as if he were flying a traffic chopper over New York City. I didn't learn the real details until he returned home. His chopper was shot down once, but he was able to make a safe landing behind enemy lines. Luckily another chopper picked up him and his crew before they were captured. He only received a relatively minor injury to his knee, but it was enough for him to receive the "Purple Heart" for being wounded in action.

Just as Pete did when he wrote to our parents in World War II, Rob smoothed over the bitter details in his letters to Lynn and I, but gave his younger brother a much more realistic account of what was happening to him in his letters. I think he was doing the same thing to Don as Pete did to me. He was letting him know just how bad things were so he wouldn't think of enlisting. Rob was trying to give his parents the impression that things were all under control so they wouldn't worry.

Well I believe God heard our prayers. In October 1970 Rob was home and out of Vietnam. He was going to stay in the service one more year but would be stationed in South Carolina. When we met him at Oscawana station in October he looked great, and was all in one piece. He told us the truth on our ride home from the station, just how bad things were in Vietnam. Fortunately he was able to leave most of the horror behind and was now starting the next phase in his life. Lynn and I finally felt some relief for the first time in almost two years.

Both Rob and Don were both in collage in 1972 and received their degrees. By the time Don graduated the war was over and the draft was finally obsolete. As parents it was a good feeling to have that type of threat behind us. While I realize anything can happen and you can't keep your children totally safe, it was still a relief to know they wouldn't be lost in a war in some foreign land.

December 31, 1974 Lynn and I were once again at the Shadowbrook to ring in the New Year. Rob and Judy were both married now and were celebrating the New Year with friends. Rob lived in Connecticut and Judy wasn't far from us in the neighboring town of Montrose, just a few miles away. Don and Nancy still lived home but were out with their friends. At seventy four Mom wasn't interest in going out for New Year's so she stayed home watching the ball drop on TV in Times Square.

I didn't know it at the time but this was to be the last time Lynn and I would be ring in the New Year at the Shadowbrook. As I looked around the restaurant that evening it was almost empty, business had been declining for a few years. Nonna and Nonno had both passed away a few years ago and my cousin Karla and her husband still ran the restaurant and they still did a great job with the food. However things had changed through the years. The people who use to love the old restaurant and thought of it as a local treasure were mostly gone. To those folks it was always more than just a place with good Italian food. People came to see Gino behind the bar telling his great stories, and Nonno and Nonna use to come out from the kitchen and talked to everyone like it was their family. Nonno and Gino would always have the customers tasting a new wine, or give them an after dinner drink on the house, usually Galliano or Sambuca with three coffee beans floating in the glass. Marisa waited on tables and she remembered everyone's name. Now all of this was now gone.

It wasn't Karla's fault, she still had great food it was just that times were changing. Albany Post Road once ran right in front of the restaurant but it was replaced with a four lane highway route 9, which was a quarter of a mile away. Only local traffic used the road in front of the restaurant now which was renamed Old Albany Post road. People no longer drove up from the Bronx for dinner as gas prices more than doubled in the last two years. There was a real change in our local demographic as well. In general people now want more quantity at a lower price and were not interested in paying a premium for homemade quality Italian food. All you could eat pasta nights with cheap wine and beer was not something Karla was interested in doing. She was a culinary trained chef and she would sell the place before doing that, and six months later that's just what she did.

I knew in my heart change was inevitable, but still when something like this changes it's hard for me to adjust.

# Chapter 20: One last trip across America.

I started writing this book over seventy years ago as an essay for a freshman English assignment in high school. Throughout the years I would get the urge to continue writing and add chapters as I wound my way through life. Sometimes I would abandon the project for years, but for some odd reason I always came back to it. It was something I needed to complete. I started writing in long hand with a fountain pen and paper in the thirties. I added some chapters with a Parker ball point in the fifties, and typed it word for word over again on an IBM electric typewriter in the sixties. In the eighties I retyped it on my IBM AT personal computer using a floppy disk and now in 2009 I'm finally completing it on my IBM ThinkPad.

I guess you've probably noticed that there is a chapter missing. No it's not a mistake in the numbering. The missing chapter was one I couldn't complete, because I could never find the right words or the strength to write them.

The missing chapter was about the passing of my beloved wife of fifty eight years, and the passing of my mother ten years prior. I can't put into words the pain and loss I feel everyday with Lynn's passing three years ago. She was the love of my life. Even at the age of eighty six I still miss my mom and her incredible influence on me and our family, and the love she gave us all. When trying to write this chapter I found there are things too deeply imbedded in a person's heart, at least in my case that can't come to the surface and be put into proper words. Perhaps a more skilled writer would fashion an elegant tribute to both of them. They both really deserve a chapter with such admiration and appreciation. However my lack of wiring skill and my heartfelt sorrow prevents me from creating such a chapter. So I am forced to leave this chapter intentionally blank in their memory.

As I look back on my life at eighty six, I know there have been a number of highs and lows. I guess that could be said about anyone's life. I know I've said it a number of times in this book, but I really have been very lucky. Lucky to have a great family, and to have had the opportunity to live in the greatest country in the world. I have four wonderful kids, now adults that I couldn't be more proud of, and ten magnificent grandchildren.

My granddaughter Karen, my son Don's daughter will be graduating from medical school in Arizona. Her parents did a great job raising her and helped her with some of the expenses of going to medical school, but she still owes a substantial amount of money in collage loans. She invited me to her graduation in Phoenix and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I know her dad expects me to fly out and stay with him, but I plan to drive instead.

I'm sure if Don, Judy and Nancy knew I was driving alone they would have a fit. So I plan to call them from the road a day or two after I leave. Rob lives in Hawaii and I probably could tell him because he would most likely say, yea go for it dad, but I'm sure he would feel compelled to tell his siblings. I plan to fly back home and give Karen my car. It's a nice little Subaru Outback wagon, a great car for a young doctor. It's only two years old with very low miles and it looks and runs like new. I also plan to give her a check that will cover all her collage loans. I know this is what my dad would have done. Dad would have said something like, "the country needs more doctors and we need to make sure they focus on medicine and not worry about money or perhaps the patients could suffer." He was always willing to give money to people who worked hard trying to make a better life for others. He also made sure every penny got to the right person, and wasn't going to some inadequately run charity managed by some overpaid executives. As I think he would have put it.

This will be my last journey across America. Although, I guess there could be some debate as to whether I will make it. Well my feeling is Dad showed me the way, and if I could land and airplane on a dirt road with a gust lock on the tail, this had to be a piece of cake. Forget about the age thing, I still have a few more years left, I hope.

I decided I would only drive during the day. My night vision isn't very good these days and I don't want to push it. So if I can make it to Don's house in Scottsdale in a week that would be fine. Four hundred and fifty to five hundred miles a day would be the goal.

I would leave early on a Saturday morning and go north and cross the Hudson River at the Bear Mountain Bridge, just as we did over seventy years ago. Then take the Palisades Parkway south, pick up route 78 west, 81 south to 40 west. Once on 40 it would be straight out and steady as she goes, west all the way for about two thousand miles to Flagstaff, Arizona. Then pick up 17 south to Phoenix, and into Scottsdale. I would be on interstate highways most of the trip, unlike 1936 where we had to take local and even some dirt roads. Now the country is totally connected by the interstate highway system and in some states you can even cruise at seventy five. Something that would have been hard to imagine in 1936.

So on Saturday morning I threw my one bag in back of the Subaru, stopped at the Quick Mart for a medium coffee to go, and I was off. I decided I should keep the empty coffee cup in the event of an emergency. At eighty six my prostate is the size of a tennis ball so I can only drive an hour at a time before I have to stop. If I run into a traffic jam because of some interstate construction, an empty coffee cup could come in handy.

My plan was to make it to Roanoke, Virginia almost exactly five hundred miles from home on the first day. I would call Judy my oldest and let her know I was on my way to Scottsdale. She may be upset, but I know she'll understand. As the oldest I guess I unknowingly appointed her V. P. of Family Communications. So she will be charged with the task of letting her siblings know of the bold or perhaps foolhardy trip their father has decided to attempt.

One thing I noticed in myself and in others as we get older, we tend to worry about the most trivial things. My main concern before leaving on this trip was to make sure I had someone watch my house. I wasn't the least bit concerned with being an eighty six year old with high blood pressure, no longer possessing 20-20 vision, and driving almost three thousand miles alone. That hardly crossed my mind. I was worried that my ten year old hot water heater may start leaking while I was gone and perhaps flood the basement. So I made sure I had someone watch the house for me. A very nice young couple who recently purchased the old Underwood place next door have agreed to keep an eye on things for me while I'm gone.

After a long day behind the wheel I made it to Roanoke by dinner time as planned, and found a decent hotel not far from the highway. I called Judy to let her know where I was. Ah, the details of that conversation are not important. The results are, she will perform her role as V.P. of Family Communications flawlessly as I knew she would.

The next few days on the road were uneventful and were actually relaxing. I got a book on cd and it helped pass the time. The country was once again in a recession so I noticed that many of the stores and restaurants were out of business along the interstate. I try to avoid fast food places, so at lunch time I would look for a small town with a nice diner. Now I could really see the result of the recession and the real estate bust first hand. Some main streets seemed deserted and shops were even boarded up. While things were not great in America once again, it was still nothing like the great depression.

I felt very confident that things in America would get back on track. It may take a while but there were some positive signs. For one thing the interstate was filled with large semi-truck traffic. On one stretch along interstate 40 in Tennessee, I saw a row of these big semi-trucks rolling along in a line that stretched for miles. It must have looked like a giant caterpillar from the air. It seemed to me that all this freight must be going somewhere. Someone is making, selling and buying all these goods, so eventually it has to have a positive effect on the economy.

After a few days on the road I was in Amarillo Texas. It was a lot less dusty from when I was here in 1936. I had a late lunch at a huge steak house called the "Big Texan". Here if you can eat a 72 ounce steak in under an hour you get one free. This was a great example of America's appetite for more quantity in food. This place was the big league for super-sizers.

I spent a few more nights on the road, checked in with Judy ever night as instructed, and before I knew it I was in Flagstaff. I know it may sound like I'm complaining, but I know how lucky I am to have four kids who truly care about me.

I got to Flagstaff sooner that I thought. Now I only had about three hours to go and I would be at Don's house in Scottsdale. Just then I decided I needed to take a side trip instead. I wanted to see the Grand Canyon one more time, and I knew this would probably be my last chance. So I headed north instead of south on route 89, and would enter the canyon from the east entrance.

I honestly don't remember too much about the last time I was here over seventy three years ago. However I do remember that we were all in awe of the canyon's beauty, size and tranquility. There was just something about this place and I needed to see it again.

When I arrived at Grand Canyon village I knew my decision to head north was a good one. This place was an amazing work of nature. I spent the day walking around the south rim and took a few pictures as the colors kept changing in the sun set. Earlier in the day I made reservations for dinner at El Tovar, the nicest restaurant on the south rim. I thought I should have a really nice meal. Many years ago I remembered hearing Nonno telling someone that every few months you should have one meal like it's your last. Because you never know when you'll have your last meal, but if for some reason you do know it's you last it won't be very enjoyable. So I thought I would have one to remember just in case. Sort of an insurance policy. I ordered the lump crab appetizer, with a great steak. Before I ate dinner I asked about a room at El Tovar just on a lark. Normally you have to make reservations a year in advance during summer months, but in a stroke of amazing luck just as I was asking the desk clerk about a room they had a cancelation. So now I could order a half-bottle of wine and enjoy every sip. I guess the only thing that could have made this dinner better is if I met some young seventy nine year old women alone on vacation. Just kidding, I guess it's the wine and the altitude talking.

The next morning after breakfast I took one last walk around the rim. Threw my stuff back in the car for the final leg of the trip. I was on the road for about an hour when I felt a pull in the steering. I stopped at a small pull off and when I got out I quickly realized I had a flat tire. I don't know why but for a second I could feel my blood pressure rising. I hadn't changed a tire on a car in over twenty years. Then I calmed down and said this is ridiculous, I've changed tires on cars dozens of times why am I getting anxious now. So I pulled out the owner's manual to make sure I knew where the jack points were. Loosened the lug nuts using my foot and body weight, I don't have the strength I once had in my arms, and five minutes later with some really dirty hands I had it changed and was back on the road.

I didn't want to give Karen a tire with a plug in it, so I decided to stop at the town of Williams and buy a new tire. While sitting in the waiting room as the mechanic was mounting the tire. I thought about when Judy and Nancy were just old enough to get their driver's licenses. Before I would let them take their road test I made them sit through one of my boring Saturday morning lectures about the importance of car maintenance and safety. I showed them how to check the oil, tire pressure, battery, coolant, and made them with some help from me change a tire. I thought it was important for them to know these things before they got their license. Rob and Don were exempt from this torture. This was not an unfair sexist mandate on my part. I just knew Rob and Don were always taking my tools to do something, so I was sure they were more that up to the task at sixteen. It's funny, back when I started this book over seventy years ago a father wouldn't have felt the need to defend his decision to treat the girls different than the boys. No one would have questioned that decision. How things have changed.

I arrived at Don's house in Scottsdale around 4:00 pm on Friday. To my overwhelming surprise, Rob, Judy and Nancy, their spouses and five of my grandchildren were there as well. I guess it never dawned on me that when I spoke to Judy last night she was already in Scottsdale. Somehow the cell phone concept still didn't totally register with me. I still had visions of an old black phone with a cord and a dial imbedded in my thinking. In any event it was great to see them all in one place. I don't think we were all together since Lynn's passing.

When I saw my granddaughter I handed her the keys to the Subaru and envelope with a check that covered all her medical school loans. I guess I was supposed to give her the car and the check after graduation, but I wanted her to enjoy her graduation and didn't what her thinking about how much debt she accumulated.

You may be wondering with ten grandchildren if giving Karen a car and this much money was fair and equitable to the rest. Well the answer for now is no. I don't believe everything needs to be or should be for that matter entirely equitable. I believe in what Karen is doing and I really appreciate all the hard work it took to get there. While Don and Linda gave her some help I am glad they didn't just pay her way. I believe everyone needs to pay for a portion of what they get and to take personal responsibility. This is exactly what Karen was doing. She plans to take a four year assignment helping people in our country who can't afford a doctor. So she isn't going to be making that much for years to come. I think she could have easily lobbied her mother into letting her take over her established medical practice when she retired, but I'm told she wasn't interested.

So in my view she deserves to be rewarded for having the values I know my parents would have been proud of. All four of my children will get an equal portion of my estate, and my grandchildren will all get some portion as well when I'm gone. However, let's face it with ten grandchildren not all will strive to make the world a better place as much as others. So I have carefully decided on what I feel is an appropriate amount for each of them. Call me old fashion but I don't buy into this new notion that everyone deserves a trophy just for participating. Some deserve more, that's life.

I had a great few weeks. I got to see much of the country one last time, saw my granddaughter become a doctor, had a chance to be with my four kids and their families and reacquaint myself with the 110 degree dry heat of Arizona. Who could ask for more?

Don wanted me to sell the old house in New York and move to Scottsdale with him. It was a really nice gesture, but I'm a New Yorker and somehow I knew I couldn't leave that old craftsman style house. It was my home and my family's headquarters overlooking the Hudson Valley.

I stayed in Scottsdale a couple of weeks and flew back home to a somewhat cooler New York in mid-July. The hot water heater didn't leak a drop!

# Chapter 21: Downwind, Base and Final.

When I arrived home after the long flight I unpacked and called Jack and Diane my neighbors, to thank them for watching over the house while I was gone. There's nothing better than having good neighbors, and Jack and Diane are the best.

After I took a well needed shower I poured a shot of good Canadian rye over two ice cubes in my favorite snifter glass. I sat in the old Morris chair that overlooks the Hudson River and it felt good to be home. It was a great trip and I made it back in one piece. I flew back with Judy and Nancy and their husbands Phil and Dave and two of my grandkids Mark and Cathy. I accomplished what I set out to do and was rewarded with the bonus of seeing my family. It was a family I was very proud of not just because of what they were accomplishing in life financially, but they had great traditional values. My children knew they were well off and had many opportunities that so many others would have to struggle hard to obtain. Such as getting a good education, but they appreciate what they have and I am proud to say they have been generous in helping people who are less fortunate. I credit these values to my parents and how they instilled these values in all of us.

I guess it started when my dad came up with what some thought was a crazy idea. In the middle of the worst depression in history, he left his well-paying job to take his family on a three month adventure across America. He wisely mislead everyone, except my mother as to the length of the trip. It was all designed to teach two young boys the value of life and to always respect others. Pete and I were born with a silver spoon but it would have no real value unless we understood how to use it and to appreciate the potential it has for us as we share it with others.

My mother helped Lynn and I instill these values in our children as well. Mom was always there as the guiding light for them and for us as well. I don't want to go into detail as to just how much my children gave back to the community. I feel I have to stick to one of Dad's five rules, never lie, cheat, steal, brag or intentionally hurt another person. In respect of rule four, I guess you will have to take my word for it as I don't want to brag, but they more than willingly helped others and continue to do so.

I don't know why someone like me gets to stick around for eighty six years when Pete and Dad were taken young. In some ways life is like that first long solo flight I made in Gino's Cessna 140 over seventy years ago. The takeoff required full power to get into the air. Like the kind of strength you have when you're young. The strength to learn new things and to find your own way in life. Once in the air there will be times when the flight is smooth with a great view, but there can be some turbulence and poor visibility as well. Just as there is in life. You just have to stick with it and do the best you can because it will clear up and things have a way of smoothing out again.

Now for me I believe the final landing strip is in sight. I need to power back a little because I am in no hurry to get there. When you approach an airport for a landing there are three legs to the approach pattern. The first is down wind. This is where you fly parallel to the runway about a half mile away with the wind at you tail. Then you turn ninety degrees usually to the left about half a mile from the end of the runway, which is called base. Then you turn ninety degrees left again into the wind lining up with the end of the runway for you final approach.

I'm not sure where I am in the landing pattern of life. I don't think I am on the final approach, at least I hope not yet. However I must be entering down wind. Well I hope it's a long runway and I can make a smooth final landing.

# Chapter 22: Back to Scottsdale after a journey to remember.

On Tuesday morning shortly after we finished reading dad's book my cousin Gary arrived at the house like clockwork. He and his two helpers started moving what was left of the furniture. Most will go to Judy and Nancy and some to their children. Gary was kind enough to deliver it to each family in the New York Area. The rest would stay or go to charity.

We told Gary about dad's book and I gave him a copy on a flash drive. It took Judy, Nancy and me three bottles of wine and a long weekend to finish reading dad's book. When we were finished we were all surprised he actually wrote it. We've heard some of the stories in the past but there were many more we never knew about. For us this was a nice piece of family history, it gave us some insight as to why we were raised the way we were.

Thanks to the hard work and well thought out investment ventures on my grandfather's part, our family was always in very good financial shape even during the great depression. Perhaps the stress of being the steward of this long term plan and the responsibilities that came with it shortened his life, but now generations of family members have the opportunity and the responsibility to benefit from his hard work. My father's book reinforces much of what we were taught. We need to help people when we can, and not be so quick to judge others. Because at times the most unlikely person may do something truly remarkable, something you may feel is totally out of character.

On Friday after the closing on the house I returned the rental car to the Hertz counter at Kennedy Airport. When I got there I couldn't help but think about my Uncle Pete and my dad who both worked here when it was called Idlewild. I wonder what Uncle Pete would say if he saw this place today. I'm sorry I never had a chance to meet him.

It was a long flight on Jet Blue from New York to Phoenix. I had a window seat just behind the wing, my favorite spot. This time the flight attendant brought me a glass of water, I drank my weekly quota of wine over the weekend. I pulled out my laptop and went back to parts of dad's book. As our plane headed west I looked out the window and felt like I could almost see dad and his family slowly bouncing along America in 1936. It was a story I will never forget and I can't wait to get home and share it with Linda and my children. I'm sure that's exactly what my father had in mind.

###

# Pictorial Epilogue.

This book is a work of fiction, however a number of people I knew and some actual events helped to inspire me in writing this story. I grow up in Oscawana, New York. A small hamlet that's no longer on the map after it was absorbed by the larger village of Croton-on Hudson in the late 60s. My aunt Muriel was the last postmaster in Oscawana. The post office was originally located in the Oscawana train station just a few hundred feet from the east bank of the Hudson River.

Oscawana Station & Post Office circa 1940 where in the story Pete left for the war in the Pacific.

As in the book my grandparents owned and operated an Italian Restaurant "The Shadowbrook Inn". In the 1940s my father and my Uncle Pete tended bar, my aunt and my mother waited on tables.

My dad was a flight instructor and ran the small airport in Croton-on-Hudson for many years. Like the fictional character Gino he loved flying, but that's where the similarity ends. Dad was a professional pilot and didn't take reckless chances the way Gino did.

My father Ray Bonini in his 140 Cessna at Croton Airpark in the early 1950s.

Ray and Sporty 1960.

Gino's character was derived from a number of people I knew. One of which was my brother Ray shown here with our dog Sporty in 1960.

Art Albright, my brother Ray and my Dad in 1954.

John describes how his brother Pete was mentored by Art Albright and became a top notch aircraft mechanic. The picture above shows Art under the wing of my father's Cessna with my brother Ray and my dad. Art was an excellent mechanic.

My mom Evelyn waiting on tables at the Shadowbrook in 1939.

The characters of both Marisa and John's mother were partly inspired by my mother, pictured above waiting on tables in the Shadowbrook.

My Dad's PT-26 at Croton Airpark 1952. Piper Cub and hangers in the background.

In the story John received his early flight training in a PT. This was my Dad's PT-26 that was originally purchased through Army surplus after WWII. They were loud, slow and leaked oil.

Jim Martin bringing in a Piper Cub on floats from the Hudson River 1961.

A close family friend Jim Martin spend days flying John and Uncle Ray searching for Gino. Jim Martin actually ran Peekskill Seaplane base in Verplanck, NY on the Hudson River pictured here. I always enjoyed visiting Jim with my dad.

My Aunt's house in Oscawana and George Gray's home behind the main house early 1940s.

George Gray lived in a small storage shed in the book. In the early 1930s my mother told me about a man named George Gray. He lived for years in this small storage out building on the left side of the picture above, behind my Aunt and Uncle's house in Oscawana. Just as in the book I was told his sister would take the train from Manhattan to visit him.

My wife Linda.

The story starts with Don's wife Linda dropping him off at Sky Harbor airport. The character of Linda was inspired by my wife Linda. Both spent many years as loving and dedicated medical professionals.

My Nonna.

The day the family was leaving on the journey Nonna said to Doro in Italian

"Doro, vegliare sulla mia famiglia", (watch over my family) which seems to change him. Somehow I think this is something my Nonna would have said, pictured above standing on the steps of her bungalow located behind her restaurant.

Before the days of modern refrigeration ice was required to keep food and drinks cold. Because there was no way of making ice it had to be cut from frozen lakes in the winter and stored in ice houses. The bungalow my grandparents lived in was once and ice house for the restaurant that was later converted to a nice little home for their retirement years.

The 1936 journey that Jake took his family on is fictional. However, I researched many of the events that actually took place in 1936 during their time on the road. These are just a few examples:

The evening before they left, Pete and John had a discussion about the Yankees and Tigers game that day. Thanks to the information from Baseball-Reference.com the actual box score shows the Yankees beating the Tigers on that day 5-2, rookie Joe DiMaggio went 2-5 and Lou Gehrig went 3-5. While the Yankees were beating the Tigers in Detroit, Max Schmeling was beating Joe Lewis in Yankee Stadium that evening. Much to John's grandfather's dismay.

John's grandmother tells him they will have good luck on their journey because there will be an eclipse the day they leave. There was an eclipse that day but it was only visible in parts of Asia. Many other events that occurred in 1936 such as the heatwave in the Midwest, the effect of the dust bowl in Texas and Oklahoma, Jessie Owens Olympic record, the Lewis vs Schmeling second fight and of course the historic events in World War II, were all based on my research and I believe they are historically accurate.

My research also showed the day the family arrived in Cleveland was the first day of the Great Lakes Expo. There was a motorcycle stunt team at the expo who rode their bikes in a barrel with a lion at the bottom. The world's tallest man and shortest woman were there and as in the book the tiny woman fell off the stage the day before they arrived. At the ball game they attended in Cleveland the day before, the great Jimmy Foxx actually hit a home run.

The story of Gino's first crash while flying Canadian Whisky into the US during probation was based on an actual event that my father witnessed as a young boy in the early 1920s. In the actual event two men in a car were on route to meet the plane and saw it crash. The pilot quickly abended the plane unhurt and stopped an approaching police car alerting them of a crash. As the police rushed to the crash site the pilot escaped in a car with his two accomplices.

In the book Gino crashes into the Atlantic Ocean, we think. His wife Marisa was smart enough to get out of the plane when they refueled and took a train back to New York. These fictional events were loosely based on a real life incident. A young doctor who was one of my father's students and a close friend, crashed in Atlantic Ocean due to icing in the early 60s. He and his wife were returning from Florida but as the weather got bad his wife wisely decided to take public transportation home while her husband continued on route to New York and was never seen again.

Thanks for taking the time to read John's story.

I would also like to extend a special thanks to Diane Surrusco for taking the time to proof read and help edit this book.

Ron Bonini
About the author

Ron Bonini was born and raised in the small town of Oscawana , New York where he resided until 2011. He currently lives in Scottsdale, Arizona with his wife Linda.

He worked at the IBM Research Center in Yorktown Heights, New York for 40 years, where he held various management positions. Retiring from IBM in 2008 as a Human Resources Partner.

His father was a flight instructor and Ron made his first solo flight on his 16th birthday. He received his instrument and commercial pilot licenses by the age of 21. In his youth he flew his own plane and had an interest in motorcycles, automobiles and New York Yankees baseball. Today he spends much of his time reading and hiking in the Sonoran desert.

This is his first book. It's a work of fiction inspired in part by various actual events and people he was honored to know.

