Advice To Families, "If everything seems to going well, you have obviously overlooked something". My parents are doing good in New Orleans and they even buy a city block in a undeveloped area for one thousand dollars, near what is today the New Orleans Airport. My parents hired people to clear the land and start developing it. I remember all the family going out to the land, which only had access by bulldozer and they would take pictures of us kids with huge tropical plants and debris. This would actually be the first time my parents would take a business chance and would probably be thought of as entrepreneurs today.
During these times almost all of the Veterans from WWII are getting help through the GI Bill and help from the Government obtaining loans towards their new homes, but not us. Other people at Camp Plauche are moving on to their new homes and dreams but we seem to be stuck and will soon have to find somewhere to live. The prospects don't look very good, being that New Orleans is experiencing a big shortage with housing. With all this going on my Asthma attacks seem to be getting worse, doctors say a change in climate might help.
Without any warning in 1949 my dad finds out he will be transferred somewhere in Illinois and is given the opportunity to have his own district to maintain working out of our home. With this opportunity and the doctors saying this climate would be much better for my Asthma my parents decide to take the offer, going back to sea is not an option to my mother. My parents sell the city block for exactly what they paid for it and later use that money for a down payment for our first home we will own.
My father makes a trip to find a place to live in Illinois and my mother gets ready for the move from New Orleans. My mother is excited about going to Illinois as most of her family lives in Chicago. My dad's territory for his work covers the western middle of the state and he somehow finds a house in Knoxville, Illinois. I don't remember traveling from New Orleans to Knoxville for some reason but do remember our first night in the house. My dad is in Chicago getting prepared by his company and not at home when we move in. Again my mother is left to fend for herself but seems to have everything under control.
I can remember that first night in our new home and seemed like a night of horror. I can remember us having some furniture and Mom did have her bedroom furniture at least. The rain was coming down in blankets and seemed like the whole house was being surrounded by lightning and thunder, just like all those horror movies you really never wanted to see at my age. My mother being a scar-die cat in the first place did not help us kids feel any better. I think she had all of us believing we were all going to die by the hand of Frankenstein the first night in our new house. We all were in the same bed cold, no lights and shaking in our under wear.
As would be expected the night passed and we all survived to our surprise, Dad returns home and we start to settle in to our new home. My brother and myself are going to share a bedroom even though there are four, but none of us kids wants the forth bedroom which has a full staircase to the mysterious attic. Of course my sister gets her own bedroom next to our parents, girls always seem to get first choice. I am 6 years old, my sister 8 years old and my half brother is 11 years old when we think we have moved into the house of horror in a place we had never heard of. I should mention at this time that the population of Knoxville is only about 2000 people and unknown creatures.
Our Southern speaking family now starts it's new life in a Northern speaking town and wonder what is next. I think I have the most predominant Cajun accent anyone could ever have in our family, which I find out later isn't so cute as everyone thought it was in New Orleans.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
MOVIN TO CAMP PLAUCHE
Still living in New Orleans my father has found employment with Hartford Insurance Co. as a Boiler Inspector, but must pass his National Board Examination in order to obtain the job. This a very difficult exam and he said it was the most difficult exam he ever took. As all of this is going on money is scarce and we move again to Camp Plauche, Harahan, LA on the western outskirts of New Orleans. It was near the Huey P. Long Mississippi River bridge in Jefferson Parrish and was originally known as Camp Harahan. Camp Plauche was renamed in honor of Major Jean Baptiste Plauche, who served under Andrew Jackson at the Battle of New Orleans. During WWII, Camp Plauche was first, a staging area for troops, then, an Army training facility and, later on, with training needs on the wane, Camp Plauche became a POW camp. Three thousand Italian prisoners were held there and all the rest were German prisoners, mainly from Gen. Rommel's "Afrida Korps." It was also an important Animal Remount Station (point of embarkation and debarkation for Army horses and mules; thousands came through Camp Plauche on their way to the Pacific and European Theaters). From war's end until the mid-1950's, the barracks were used as apartments for veterans which also had a hospital, located on the river side of Jefferson Highway. My own family lived in one of the 610 apartments briefly during 1949 to 1951, Elmwood industrial Park now occupies the land once used for Camp Plauche.
Living at Camp Plauche in a second floor apartment starts a new beginning for my mother and father. My mother goes to school to become a Cosmetologist to make extra money while my dad prepares for his Boiler Inspector exam. After lots of effort both have passed their exams and life is looking much better. Both start their new jobs and we are starting to eat less beans. Now that my dad is working for Hartford Insurance Co. he gets a company car to travel to the locations to make his inspections, a 1949 black Chevy coupe which can be used for family use also. This of course is a big plus for any family after the war and opens a lot of opportunities for our family, especially family activities. One of the first places I can remember going on is we were taken to Lake Pontchartrain Beach which also had an Amusement Park. Everyone was excited except for my mother not liking the Beach idea as she could not swim nor could I, but my dad was a good swimmer. We all go to the beach house to change into our bathing suits which are identified men or women/black or white. This will be the first time for me ever to have a bathing suite and will be my first experience to see my father naked, didn't think much of it except he had white hair on his head and black "down there", I was having the best time ever with my dad or at least I thought I was.
Time has come to go into the water and I really don't have any idea you have to know how to swim, the water is feeling so cool and refreshing, after many days and nights in our very hot apartment. What is about to happen I will never forget and was embedded in me forever! As I am getting deeper and deeper into the water I start to realize that my Asthma is starting to act up a little, but don't want this to stop the good time I am having. My father seems to think I am doing O.K. but in reality I'm not. He must of taken his eye's off of me for a second and the undertow pulled me over my head. With my Asthma condition it does not take long and I am breathing water and drowning. I can still remember seeing the air bubbles going past my eyes and for an instant not breathing but still alive. Just when you think the end is near a hand reaches down and grabs me by the hair, bringing me to the surface, yes, it is my Dad, my hero! They revive me and I have the crap scared out of me. We then go to the Amusement Park that night and seeing a big clown you could climb into which I wanted nothing to do with or anything else, lets go home to the hot apartment.
Day's at Camp Plauche seemed fine to me after Lake Pontchartrain and playing with the kids in the Camp was just fine. There were a lot of girls in the complexes, so one day, playing with the "Twins", two sweet girls, they decided we should play under the apartments which were on columns about 3 feet off the ground. Thinking, what can possibly happen to me after almost drowning. Little did I know the "Twins" have something else on their mind than playing. They want to explore juvenile 101 anatomy and become Gloria and Dora the Explorer. This does not take long for us to find out no one has any idea what we are looking at or touching and thus ends with none of us ever playing together again. My sister told on us, she was the oldest.
Camp Plauche will be the first place I remember Christmas and actually knowing you get presents. I don't remember having a tree but we did have some lights. My dad decided that all of the kids would each get a bicycle for Christmas. In preparation for this he decided to build a shed with a hasp and lock as bicycles were hot on the list for thieves. We got our new bikes on the 25th and I was the first to put a dent in mine, really to little to ride it.
Sometimes my dad would take me with him on his new job to have some fun with me. One time he took me to JAX Brewery in downtown New Orleans on 600 Decatur St. across from Jackson Square, in heart of French Quarter, now a commercial mall. The 110 year old JAX Brewery was designed and constructed by German born and educated architect Dietrich Einsiedel in 1891. It was the largest independent brewery in the south and tenth largest single-plant brewery in the country. This will be my first experience as to what a Marine Engineer/Boiler Inspector does. I can remember going inside this very large boiler and looking up and seeing all those tubes and wondering where they went. Some time later I will find out! By this time I had established a very distinctive Southern Cajun accent, almost not like the English Language. When my dad would take me with him to make his inspections the men at the plant would ask my dad, let that boy talk that shit, and I would put on my show for them, thinking I was funny. What will come later from being funny won't be so funny.
During all this my parents find out that even though we are living in Camp Plauche my father is not considered a Veteran and find this out during a visit to hospital thinking he will be entitled to all the Veterans benefits and GI Bill. This is what a Marine Engineer would call, being left hanging over a hot steam line or should say, left hanging by our Government.
Living at Camp Plauche in a second floor apartment starts a new beginning for my mother and father. My mother goes to school to become a Cosmetologist to make extra money while my dad prepares for his Boiler Inspector exam. After lots of effort both have passed their exams and life is looking much better. Both start their new jobs and we are starting to eat less beans. Now that my dad is working for Hartford Insurance Co. he gets a company car to travel to the locations to make his inspections, a 1949 black Chevy coupe which can be used for family use also. This of course is a big plus for any family after the war and opens a lot of opportunities for our family, especially family activities. One of the first places I can remember going on is we were taken to Lake Pontchartrain Beach which also had an Amusement Park. Everyone was excited except for my mother not liking the Beach idea as she could not swim nor could I, but my dad was a good swimmer. We all go to the beach house to change into our bathing suits which are identified men or women/black or white. This will be the first time for me ever to have a bathing suite and will be my first experience to see my father naked, didn't think much of it except he had white hair on his head and black "down there", I was having the best time ever with my dad or at least I thought I was.
Time has come to go into the water and I really don't have any idea you have to know how to swim, the water is feeling so cool and refreshing, after many days and nights in our very hot apartment. What is about to happen I will never forget and was embedded in me forever! As I am getting deeper and deeper into the water I start to realize that my Asthma is starting to act up a little, but don't want this to stop the good time I am having. My father seems to think I am doing O.K. but in reality I'm not. He must of taken his eye's off of me for a second and the undertow pulled me over my head. With my Asthma condition it does not take long and I am breathing water and drowning. I can still remember seeing the air bubbles going past my eyes and for an instant not breathing but still alive. Just when you think the end is near a hand reaches down and grabs me by the hair, bringing me to the surface, yes, it is my Dad, my hero! They revive me and I have the crap scared out of me. We then go to the Amusement Park that night and seeing a big clown you could climb into which I wanted nothing to do with or anything else, lets go home to the hot apartment.
Day's at Camp Plauche seemed fine to me after Lake Pontchartrain and playing with the kids in the Camp was just fine. There were a lot of girls in the complexes, so one day, playing with the "Twins", two sweet girls, they decided we should play under the apartments which were on columns about 3 feet off the ground. Thinking, what can possibly happen to me after almost drowning. Little did I know the "Twins" have something else on their mind than playing. They want to explore juvenile 101 anatomy and become Gloria and Dora the Explorer. This does not take long for us to find out no one has any idea what we are looking at or touching and thus ends with none of us ever playing together again. My sister told on us, she was the oldest.
Camp Plauche will be the first place I remember Christmas and actually knowing you get presents. I don't remember having a tree but we did have some lights. My dad decided that all of the kids would each get a bicycle for Christmas. In preparation for this he decided to build a shed with a hasp and lock as bicycles were hot on the list for thieves. We got our new bikes on the 25th and I was the first to put a dent in mine, really to little to ride it.
Sometimes my dad would take me with him on his new job to have some fun with me. One time he took me to JAX Brewery in downtown New Orleans on 600 Decatur St. across from Jackson Square, in heart of French Quarter, now a commercial mall. The 110 year old JAX Brewery was designed and constructed by German born and educated architect Dietrich Einsiedel in 1891. It was the largest independent brewery in the south and tenth largest single-plant brewery in the country. This will be my first experience as to what a Marine Engineer/Boiler Inspector does. I can remember going inside this very large boiler and looking up and seeing all those tubes and wondering where they went. Some time later I will find out! By this time I had established a very distinctive Southern Cajun accent, almost not like the English Language. When my dad would take me with him to make his inspections the men at the plant would ask my dad, let that boy talk that shit, and I would put on my show for them, thinking I was funny. What will come later from being funny won't be so funny.
During all this my parents find out that even though we are living in Camp Plauche my father is not considered a Veteran and find this out during a visit to hospital thinking he will be entitled to all the Veterans benefits and GI Bill. This is what a Marine Engineer would call, being left hanging over a hot steam line or should say, left hanging by our Government.
Monday, June 8, 2009
MOVIN ON AFTER WWII
Finally the War is over and in 1946 to 1948 my father takes a job with Maritime Service as Head Chief Engineer laying up ships in Decatur, AL after they returned home from the war. This contract was with Ingalls Ship Building and the Government. These are my first memories of what's going on when I am about 4 years old and we are living in the Garden District on Prytania Street in New Orleans. My mother is still mostly on her own, while her husband is still laying up ships after the war while others are returning home.
So it is time to start telling some things about myself. One of the big things I am missing is a life with my Dad. But things being as they are, I seem to find things to do. One thing my mother would do once a month is she would take all of us, my brother, sister and myself for a treat. We would walk over to St. Charles Ave. and take the street car down to the French Quarter to Cafe Du Monde which was established in 1862. They are world famous even today for their square french style doughnuts called Beignets sprinkled with powdered sugar. I think it was also a nice break for her to. This was one of my best things to do and counted the days for the next treat. The house we were living in was one of those old looking Victorians with a arrow head armor iron fences surrounding the property. My Dad was making decent money but still gone, so my mother had a Nanny to help her out with kids and everything. My Dad and I had the same first names and when he would come home occasionally my mother would call for one of us but we never knew who she was calling. So after many callings, I was nicked named Butch and thus called Master Butch by the Nanny.
As every one knows during the forties and fifties segregation still existed and drinking fountains and bathrooms were labeled for individuals. Nanny had a young boy about my age, but we were not allowed to play together. Well, one day when he said he had a watermelon at his house and would I like some, of course I could not refuse. We both took a good scolding and spanking for that. Even after that we would find ways to play together, but very secretly, so we thought, little did I know that this would soon come to an end. One day we were playing and to our amazement there was a monkey, yes a monkey in the tree in front of my house. My Nanny's son Samson was so amazed by this he decided to climb up the fence to try to get to it, not a good idea. When he got to the tree he lost his footing. When he fell his leg landed on one of those sharp arrow head armored edges on top, going through his calf of his leg. Now what do I do, knowing I am going to get into trouble playing with him. Knowing this I ran for help anyway and was the last time we ever played together.
Being 4 years old, little did I know something bad was going on with my health that was starting to show significant signs, (Asthma). New Orleans is very damp and being below sea level this is a good for breeding and development for this disease. I would have furious attacks and could not breath. My mother would put me on her lap and pound on my back to try to help me breath as I would be turning blue. Finally after my mother taking me to the doctor many times there was a small white pill she was given that would help, but never really helped to stop the attacks. The doctor told her that I would be like this as long as we lived in the New Orleans climate and my future life would be questionable. Now with this development playing became difficult, especially any vigorous activity or running. Now I am in Kindergarten at McDonogh #14 and having problems at school due to my health but advance to First grade. My health plus a little luck will effect our family later.
My father continues laying up many ships from the war and returns to sailing in the Merchant Marines until 1949. This of course is not going over very well with my Mother and she finally gives him the ultimatum, come home or there will be no home. Very harsh words, but considering all that she has foregone and the war being over for some time, I can't really blame her. Of course my father concedes to her demands and calls it FWE, "finished with engines". Everyone is happy that he is home but will have to find work. We have now moved to a small shotgun house on Manderville Street, where the dividing line for segregation of blacks and whites has been established. I am now in First grade at Annunciation Grammer School. While living in this home I remember going barefoot most of the time. We did not have much of a back yard and what existed was mostly old boards and junk. One day I was playing in the yard with no shoes and stepped on a board with a nail sticking up and ran it all the way through my right foot. Off to doctor, tetanus shoot and lots of soaking. Finally back to normal I was told not to go in the backyard anymore, so being a young boy, I decide to investigate what had happen to me anyway. Barefoot again as luck would have it I stepped on another nail in a board and ran this one almost all the way through my left foot. Knowing I would get into trouble, I hobbled back to house, with everyone in disbelief but actually felt sorry for me, same routine again! Needless to say that was last time I ever played in that backyard.
When living here our back yard butted up to the blacks back yards, which was the segregation line. So sometimes the white kids would run around the block as fast as they could and yell bad names at the black kids on that side of block, excluding me due to my Asthma. The black kids put up with this for a long time until one day they finally got tired of it, came across the "line" with all the white kids crapping in their pants. All the white kids were running into their houses as the black kids went running by calling them and me all "white trash". I thought this was funny and was a first step towards Desegregation. We then move again to Karfoot Street and finish my second time as a First Grader at Saint Agnes School. My parents now find out my Dad is not considered a Veteran from WWII, thus no GI bill and we are eating lots of beans and "Movin On".
So it is time to start telling some things about myself. One of the big things I am missing is a life with my Dad. But things being as they are, I seem to find things to do. One thing my mother would do once a month is she would take all of us, my brother, sister and myself for a treat. We would walk over to St. Charles Ave. and take the street car down to the French Quarter to Cafe Du Monde which was established in 1862. They are world famous even today for their square french style doughnuts called Beignets sprinkled with powdered sugar. I think it was also a nice break for her to. This was one of my best things to do and counted the days for the next treat. The house we were living in was one of those old looking Victorians with a arrow head armor iron fences surrounding the property. My Dad was making decent money but still gone, so my mother had a Nanny to help her out with kids and everything. My Dad and I had the same first names and when he would come home occasionally my mother would call for one of us but we never knew who she was calling. So after many callings, I was nicked named Butch and thus called Master Butch by the Nanny.
As every one knows during the forties and fifties segregation still existed and drinking fountains and bathrooms were labeled for individuals. Nanny had a young boy about my age, but we were not allowed to play together. Well, one day when he said he had a watermelon at his house and would I like some, of course I could not refuse. We both took a good scolding and spanking for that. Even after that we would find ways to play together, but very secretly, so we thought, little did I know that this would soon come to an end. One day we were playing and to our amazement there was a monkey, yes a monkey in the tree in front of my house. My Nanny's son Samson was so amazed by this he decided to climb up the fence to try to get to it, not a good idea. When he got to the tree he lost his footing. When he fell his leg landed on one of those sharp arrow head armored edges on top, going through his calf of his leg. Now what do I do, knowing I am going to get into trouble playing with him. Knowing this I ran for help anyway and was the last time we ever played together.
Being 4 years old, little did I know something bad was going on with my health that was starting to show significant signs, (Asthma). New Orleans is very damp and being below sea level this is a good for breeding and development for this disease. I would have furious attacks and could not breath. My mother would put me on her lap and pound on my back to try to help me breath as I would be turning blue. Finally after my mother taking me to the doctor many times there was a small white pill she was given that would help, but never really helped to stop the attacks. The doctor told her that I would be like this as long as we lived in the New Orleans climate and my future life would be questionable. Now with this development playing became difficult, especially any vigorous activity or running. Now I am in Kindergarten at McDonogh #14 and having problems at school due to my health but advance to First grade. My health plus a little luck will effect our family later.
My father continues laying up many ships from the war and returns to sailing in the Merchant Marines until 1949. This of course is not going over very well with my Mother and she finally gives him the ultimatum, come home or there will be no home. Very harsh words, but considering all that she has foregone and the war being over for some time, I can't really blame her. Of course my father concedes to her demands and calls it FWE, "finished with engines". Everyone is happy that he is home but will have to find work. We have now moved to a small shotgun house on Manderville Street, where the dividing line for segregation of blacks and whites has been established. I am now in First grade at Annunciation Grammer School. While living in this home I remember going barefoot most of the time. We did not have much of a back yard and what existed was mostly old boards and junk. One day I was playing in the yard with no shoes and stepped on a board with a nail sticking up and ran it all the way through my right foot. Off to doctor, tetanus shoot and lots of soaking. Finally back to normal I was told not to go in the backyard anymore, so being a young boy, I decide to investigate what had happen to me anyway. Barefoot again as luck would have it I stepped on another nail in a board and ran this one almost all the way through my left foot. Knowing I would get into trouble, I hobbled back to house, with everyone in disbelief but actually felt sorry for me, same routine again! Needless to say that was last time I ever played in that backyard.
When living here our back yard butted up to the blacks back yards, which was the segregation line. So sometimes the white kids would run around the block as fast as they could and yell bad names at the black kids on that side of block, excluding me due to my Asthma. The black kids put up with this for a long time until one day they finally got tired of it, came across the "line" with all the white kids crapping in their pants. All the white kids were running into their houses as the black kids went running by calling them and me all "white trash". I thought this was funny and was a first step towards Desegregation. We then move again to Karfoot Street and finish my second time as a First Grader at Saint Agnes School. My parents now find out my Dad is not considered a Veteran from WWII, thus no GI bill and we are eating lots of beans and "Movin On".
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
