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03/10/10 |
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The first step on my road to happiness started on August 2, 1938. On that momentous Tuesday, I summoned up sufficient courage to say "goodbye" to my family, friends, and hometown. This journey was not like the one in 1934 when I walked away in a "trance". This time, planning ahead, I knew where I was going. |
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In Los Angeles, three weeks later, I took a second step to happiness by following my Italian proverb, "Va Fa Sa". Struggling to become a student at UCLA, I realized the wisdom of "You have to Go to Do To Know" --
A better explanation for Va Fa Sa is the anonymous proverb: "Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced; even a proverb is no proverb till your life has illustrated it". This proverb is in tune with mine and validates my own experience at UCLA. Returning again and again to the wisdom ofVa Fa Sa, I understood why I had three happy years at UCLA. Its been said that, "Happiness is not something you experience, it is something you remember". But for me it was both. During my second semester at UCLA, I wrestled with a hard decision. Where was I going to find a room that I could afford near the school? Not having enough money and not knowing where I would find a room, I stayed on with the Castera Family. However, to carry the required minimum of 12 units I had to have more study time. Sooner or later, I had to move. Even more important was the choice of courses. This was another "fork in the road". Do I take the undergraduate courses for a degree, or do I take the courses that I like? I had no intention of returning to French, Algebra or Physics. Any other courses in the Sciences would surely jeopardize my staying in school. Consequently, I opted for the courses that I liked so that I might get passing grades. For my new semester I signed up for:
My work hours at the cafeteria were again two hours from 11:00 AM to 1:00 PM. In that first week, a full-time employee told me that he was quitting and was leaving the next day for Oklahoma. He wanted to help his landlady so he was looking for someone to rent the room. He said the rent was only $6.00 per month. I was astounded; especially after he said the room was only two miles from the campus. Surely, I could afford this room, Caddying one day would be enough for a week's rent. |
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That same afternoon he took me to his room and I met his landlady, Mrs. Fernding. I wanted that room and she wanted me to take it; hard to say who was the happier. The next afternoon I moved from Bel Air to Mrs. Fernding's home at 1521 Federal Ave. Her home was just off of Santa Monica Blvd. It would be an easy 2-mile hitchhike to school. And if it rained, the bus ride was a nickel. That hard decision was not so hard after all. In writing to Vito that week I told him of the possibility, after all, of coming home for the ABC in Cleveland. But there was a catch. Our team needed to sell 1000 tickets at 25 cents each to cover our travel expenses. We each had to sell 200 tickets. There was no way for me to sell the tickets at UCLA, but I figured they could be sold in Bedford. Our team, Nelson Transportation, was scheduled to bowl in Cleveland on April 26th and 27th. The lottery was to be held on April 3rd and the winner would receive a radio. In sending my tickets to Vito I knew he would get help in selling them from our friends and buddies. Frank Nyerges made a sign for the bowling alley, enabling the league bowlers to buy tickets at the counter. It probably wasn't prudent to miss two weeks of school but I couldn't resist the opportunity to return home. Taking the trip now would also strengthen my resolve to work in Los Angeles through the summer. I had already written to Frank Nyerges that I would not return home in June. During the first semester I audited Dr. Clinton Howard's class The History of England and I liked what I saw. Consequently, on the 15th of February I switched to his class. He made a big impression on the students and an instant hit with me. He didn't say a word until everyone was quiet. Even then he said nothing. Having everyone's attention, he walked slowly to a window. All eyes were on him as he looked out, and then walked to the rear to adjust a window shade. Returning to his desk in front of the class, he began to pass out plain sheets of yellow paper. He asked for a free-hand drawing of England, nothing fancy, just a simple map outline. The astonished students started to protest, but he assured us this was not a "quiz" and he would not grade us for this first assignment. By making the request for a simple map outline, he forced all of us to look at the map of England. I never forgot that first class meeting with Dr. Howard. "Tops" as a teacher, he was my favorite Professor. My first class in Speech was also memorable. Our instructor, Harrison M. Karr, was also the author of our textbook, Your Speaking Voice. He asked that we identify ourselves so he could hear our speaking voice. He wanted us to relax and become comfortable with one another as we got acquainted. For the students, of course, that was easier said than done. After the class was dismissed he asked me to stay. He finished his conversation with the last student, turned to me and said, "You have a wonderful speaking voice; if you apply yourself, you can go far". Surprised by his comment, I was too flabbergasted to respond. This incident caused me to recall two others that had occurred recently. The first occurred in the coffee shop where I went for my evening meal. Darlene was the waitress who usually served me. So she got to know who I was and how I got here. She said. "You speak so different -- I like to hear you talk". The second incident occurred when hitchhiking on Sunset Blvd. A young man picked me up and after a few words of conversation, he said, "Are you in radio"? After I said no, he asked, "Are you in pictures"? Again, I said no. He said he was in pictures. Hearing my voice, he felt sure I had to be in radio or in pictures. These two incidents regarding my speaking voice were nice compliments, but I didn't give them any further thought until I heard Dr. Karr's startling praise. However, just the thought of speaking in front of a class of strangers was enough to make me nervous and incoherent. No doubt, the Speech Class was going to be my next big hurdle. I was determined to face up to it. My first assignment in speech was a disaster. We had to give an informal, 3-minute talk on any subject. As an example of a topic, Dr. Karr suggested that we describe the scariest event we had experienced. At our next class meeting I described the scary time I had on that freight train in Arkansas. As I began my talk I sensed my face was flushed. Stammering and stuttering, I really messed up; it was torture. I should have known better than to bring up that embarrassing episode in front of strangers. I'm sure, on some other topic, I would have been more relaxed and coherent. Mrs. Fernding was a wonderful landlady. She was quite old, in her 80's, but her mind was sharp. She was a former schoolteacher in Illinois. Maude Grinsell was another roomer in her home. She was in her 60's and she was a big help to Mrs. Fernding. These two kind ladies adopted me readily. Getting that room was the best thing that could have happened. It became the third leg of my tripod; the other two were caddying at Lakeside and the busboy job. All three legs carried me through UCLA. Although I was enchanted by the History of England and by Dr. Howard I soon discovered that our textbook carried a bias and was sympathetic to Cromwell, the Parliament and the Barons. In a book at the Los Angeles Public Library I found an opposing view that favored the Monarchy. I wondered how there could be two opinions on what had already happened in history. In college, I expected to learn what was true; it was a disappointment to learn that a textbook was merely one view. In 1660, I felt a benevolent King would bring justice to the weak and poor. Expressing that view in a quiz I received a "C"+ with the notation --"you make a brilliant beginning to a fine essay, but you fail utterly to develop thesis". Later Dr. Howard, intrigued with my essay, introduced me to two teaching assistants in the Political Science office. Probing for my political outlook, I assured them that I was not a communist and was not a member of the Marxist cell unit that was on campus. In March I decided to use a Post Office Box. The branch post office was only two blocks from my room. The charge was only six bits (75 cents) for every 3 months. On my way to school, I was able to pickup letters early in the morning or in the evening as late as 10:00 PM. I also had access to the box on Saturdays, Sundays, and Holidays. My mailing address became Box 303 West Los Angeles. With Box 303 and my room at Mrs. Fernding I stayed put till the very end of my 3rd year at UCLA. This new post office box took me down memory lane. In the transient camp my mail was addressed to Box 282 Griffith Park. That's where I began my letter writing. It was my outlet for pent-up feelings. They were the bridge that took me home. Those same letters, today, have become the bridge to my past. My need to communicate did not diminish at UCLA. In fact, despite my studies, it became greater as I had more on my mind and more to write about. Although I loved to receive letters, I loved even more to write them. Writing to a friend is an act of giving; but when he responds you are taking. So, even in letter writing, "it's better to give than to receive". I enjoyed writing all those letters, and took pride in sending out much more than I received. In addition to writing home, I felt compelled to write letters to my relatives and to my buddies. I wrote to Frank and Mickey as often as I could. Both wanted to leave Bedford and come to UCLA. I encouraged them with the assurance that I would help them in getting enrolled. In a letter to Mickey I told him about a book report that I did for my English class. It was Christopher Morley's Where the Blue Begins. I asked him: "Do you know where the blue begins? I do. It begins over there on the other side of the hill—where the horizon meets the sky. That's where I want to go. I wish someone would go with me". For another English assignment, I had to write 700 words of "description". Its title was "The Return of the Native". Its theme, "Every trip is successful when you get home again". In writing this to Frank, I told him that I would be that "native" for the second time in my young life, when I return home again in a few weeks. My next assignment in Speech had to have movement and physical action. I was more relaxed and did better because my subject was about keeping score in bowling. Walking to the blackboard, I drew a sample score sheet with ten frames. I started to write the pin total in each frame as I explained the difference between spares and strikes, as well as blows and splits. I inserted strikes in the 7th and 8th frames. In the next frame, knocking 9 pins down on the first ball, what total do I now add to the 7th frame? Facing my classmates, I looked at Marguerite Crisp. Calling out her name, I asked her for the answer. She didn't know, and neither did anyone else. They were all concentrating on their own speech, not mine. Why did I pick on Marguerite? She was pretty, with her high cheekbones, she reminded me of Catherine. Besides, how else could I get her to notice me or get an introduction? My introduction to Ruth Kanin was more delicate. She was a member of the Drama Group at UCLA and was starring in the Irwin Shaw play "Bury the Dead". The play was a smash hit. By popular demand the play had to be extended for two more evenings. I saw the play at its repeat performance. The following afternoon, in the UCLA Library, Ruth happened to sit next to me. I broke the ice by complimenting her on her acting. We discussed the play for a few minutes. After that episode, Ruth recognized me and said "hello" every time we met. In relating the Ruth Kanin episode to Frank Nyerges, I told him that Ruth's brother was Garson Kanin, the new 26-year-old director of "Next Time You Marry", "A Man to Remember", and "Great Man Votes". Earlier, in letters from Vito, I learned that Henry De Pompei, my cousin in Cleveland, came to Hollywood to take singing lessons. He had hopes of emulating Mario Lanza. Vito wrote that Uncle was worried about Henry and wanted me to check on him. I visited him at the YMCA in Los Angeles on March 17th. He was in dire straits. Sick and broke, he had already hocked his wristwatch, suitcase, and best clothes to a pawnshop. The YMCA was also holding some of his belongings. The next day I wrote to Uncle Attilio, explaining that Henry was in a precarious position. In another letter, Vito informed me that our brother Rudy had enlisted in the Navy and was waiting for a notification date in March. I felt he was too young to go in the Navy. He wouldn't be 18 until July 26th. This meant that he would not be home when I returned in April. When I made a suggestion to our team captain that we have a special match game in Bedford, he said, "Okay, you make the arrangements". I then wrote a letter to The Bedford Times-Register. I informed the Editor, Maurice Denk, that our team, when in Cleveland for the ABC, would like to challenge the Bedford Match Kings. Augie Ross, captain of the Match Kings, accepted and the special match game was set for April 23rd.
Roy Bade, my team captain, was surprised when I turned in all the money (fifty dollars) and the ticket stubs. He expressed the hope that someone in Bedford would have the winning ticket for the radio. That gave me a feeling that my teammates were not doing as well in selling their tickets. On my next visit to see Henry, I learned that he received $26.00 from his father, barely enough to redeem his belongings and pay his debts. Looking ahead, he would still be in a bind, so I asked him to come stay with me. I had a large double bed and I was sure Mrs. Fernding would let me share my room with my cousin. Two days later when he moved in with me, she only asked for an additional $2.00 a month. After getting an okay from the manager of the cafeteria, Henry took my busboy job for the next three days. I had my work card altered so that we would be entitled for two meals for two work hours, thus ending my one-hour in cash. Two weeks later, Henry was ready to substitute for me as a busboy. Before departing for Cleveland I had to focus on my term paper for my English class. My subject was the author, Clifford Odets, and his plays. I completed it just in time, handing it in to Mr. Swedenberg on April 14th. That same evening at 10:00 PM, with my three teammates, we started our drive to the ABC in Cleveland. For me, this was a new experience. No hitchhiking. Hugo P. Cipriani |
