Arrival 1960
Would you send your 13 year old son on a 4,000 mile trip – by himself?
My mom decided to do so in July of 1960. My father had been without work for more than a year due to the recession of 1959. He could no longer afford to pay a mortgage and own a car. He couldn’t take care of a family of 5 once his unemployment stopped. The family safety net was my grandparents, who lived three blocks away. My family moved in with my grandparents, but with one main problem: There was no room at the inn for all of us. I was the odd child out… my parents could sleep together, my two sisters could bunk together, but I had no place in the small home owned by my grandparents.
My Aunt Harriet and Uncle Dick lived several miles away.. but they had 4 boys, and it took all their resources to house my many cousins. So where was I to go? The only remaining solution was my Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil. They had no children, a two-bedroom home, and were excited to host me for the duration of my father’s lack of work.
Only they lived 4,000 miles away in Anchorage Alaska. Alaska.. only the 49th state a year before. Alaska, a rough and tumble frontier largely unknown in Buffalo.
It was decided to send me to Aunt Betty! I was about to be farmed out to a distant and exotic place.
Of course, I knew nothing of the reason. I was told that it was an opportunity and an adventure.
I liked the idea!
----------------------
Thus began my first airplane trip as I embarked on the first leg of my trip from Buffalo, NY to Chicago.
Taking off for the first time was an experience. The plane was a DC-6C, a prop-jet, so there was a good deal of vibration as the engines were revved and the long runway was traveled at an increasing speed. Suddenly, I was not bound by the earth, and I saw clouds and sky, an early morning August sky.
It was several hours of flying before I landed at the MidWay Airport south of Chicago. The landing was smooth though I was apprehensive having never experienced such a descent and screech of the tires on the concrete. We slowly rolled to a terminal and disembarked. I knew I had to find my next gate, and I walked up to a center kiosk holding two officious looking men who were talking together and totally ignoring a short 13-year-old, unaccompanied, and needing assistance.
One man looked to the other and said:
“Announce Martin Luther King coming in on Gate 2B”
That was my departure gate!
The second man looked up and said “Who is Martin Luther King?”
“Never mind, just announce it,” said the first man.
And he did so. Then one turned to me and asked what I wanted.
“Where is Gate 2B?” I asked.
He pointed and I moved down the concourse. There I encountered a phalanx of blue flooding down toward me, leading a large group of black people. I pressed against the wall as the torrent flashed by. Which one was Martin Luther King? Who knew.
I found the gate. Soon, I was boarded and on my way to the next leg of my trip: SeaTac Airport.
We flew across the country under blankets and flying low and slow. The heating system on the DC 6C had gone out! We shivered and vibrated across the country, following the sun! We arrived safely, chilled but alive. We were late too, and the airport was mostly shut down. No food, no people almost. It was after midnight and my flight to Anchorage wasn’t until daylight. Despite large, cushioned couches, I dared not sleep for fear of missing the call for my flight.
By the time my boarding occurred, I was running on adrenaline and very tired.
But the flight to Anchorage was almost empty. A kind and young pretty stewardess took an interest in me, coming to my seat often, bringing some snacks and hot cocoa. The attention felt good.
Landing in Anchorage was a blur.. I was pretty tired, and not sure how I would be met. But there, at the gate, were my Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil. Hugs all around were followed by a sudden and violent heave of my stomach. My hot cocoa returned. This was an embarrassing way to enter my new environment and meet my Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil.
Concerned, and worried about what responsibility they now had, my new caretakers took me to a doctor.
I had arrived with the German measles.
And begun an adventure that changed my life!
My mom decided to do so in July of 1960. My father had been without work for more than a year due to the recession of 1959. He could no longer afford to pay a mortgage and own a car. He couldn’t take care of a family of 5 once his unemployment stopped. The family safety net was my grandparents, who lived three blocks away. My family moved in with my grandparents, but with one main problem: There was no room at the inn for all of us. I was the odd child out… my parents could sleep together, my two sisters could bunk together, but I had no place in the small home owned by my grandparents.
My Aunt Harriet and Uncle Dick lived several miles away.. but they had 4 boys, and it took all their resources to house my many cousins. So where was I to go? The only remaining solution was my Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil. They had no children, a two-bedroom home, and were excited to host me for the duration of my father’s lack of work.
Only they lived 4,000 miles away in Anchorage Alaska. Alaska.. only the 49th state a year before. Alaska, a rough and tumble frontier largely unknown in Buffalo.
It was decided to send me to Aunt Betty! I was about to be farmed out to a distant and exotic place.
Of course, I knew nothing of the reason. I was told that it was an opportunity and an adventure.
I liked the idea!
----------------------
Thus began my first airplane trip as I embarked on the first leg of my trip from Buffalo, NY to Chicago.
Taking off for the first time was an experience. The plane was a DC-6C, a prop-jet, so there was a good deal of vibration as the engines were revved and the long runway was traveled at an increasing speed. Suddenly, I was not bound by the earth, and I saw clouds and sky, an early morning August sky.
It was several hours of flying before I landed at the MidWay Airport south of Chicago. The landing was smooth though I was apprehensive having never experienced such a descent and screech of the tires on the concrete. We slowly rolled to a terminal and disembarked. I knew I had to find my next gate, and I walked up to a center kiosk holding two officious looking men who were talking together and totally ignoring a short 13-year-old, unaccompanied, and needing assistance.
One man looked to the other and said:
“Announce Martin Luther King coming in on Gate 2B”
That was my departure gate!
The second man looked up and said “Who is Martin Luther King?”
“Never mind, just announce it,” said the first man.
And he did so. Then one turned to me and asked what I wanted.
“Where is Gate 2B?” I asked.
He pointed and I moved down the concourse. There I encountered a phalanx of blue flooding down toward me, leading a large group of black people. I pressed against the wall as the torrent flashed by. Which one was Martin Luther King? Who knew.
I found the gate. Soon, I was boarded and on my way to the next leg of my trip: SeaTac Airport.
We flew across the country under blankets and flying low and slow. The heating system on the DC 6C had gone out! We shivered and vibrated across the country, following the sun! We arrived safely, chilled but alive. We were late too, and the airport was mostly shut down. No food, no people almost. It was after midnight and my flight to Anchorage wasn’t until daylight. Despite large, cushioned couches, I dared not sleep for fear of missing the call for my flight.
By the time my boarding occurred, I was running on adrenaline and very tired.
But the flight to Anchorage was almost empty. A kind and young pretty stewardess took an interest in me, coming to my seat often, bringing some snacks and hot cocoa. The attention felt good.
Landing in Anchorage was a blur.. I was pretty tired, and not sure how I would be met. But there, at the gate, were my Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil. Hugs all around were followed by a sudden and violent heave of my stomach. My hot cocoa returned. This was an embarrassing way to enter my new environment and meet my Aunt Betty and Uncle Phil.
Concerned, and worried about what responsibility they now had, my new caretakers took me to a doctor.
I had arrived with the German measles.
And begun an adventure that changed my life!