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11/20/08 |
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It was good to be home again. Everything was the same, but quite different from the ABC bowling trip when I was so excited and restless. This time I was relaxed and could enjoy the home atmosphere. |
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A letter from Frank Nyerges, written three days after we left, was already here waiting for me. He wrote: "So far, I don't know what I'll do, stay around and look for a job, or start for home. I really don't want to go home so soon, but if I can't find work I guess I'll have to". In another paragraph, in a happier mood, Frank wrote that his cousin Lou Kerekes took him on a tour of the movie studio where he was employed. Frank saw several "fake" movie sets and then watched the actual shooting of some scenes in "Gone With The Wind" with Thomas Mitchell, Gregory Ratoff and "that little English girl that plays opposite Clark Gable". Later that evening Lou took Frank to some nightspots. The following afternoon they went for a drive, and then topped off the day with a big dinner at a Hungarian Club. I wrote Frank the next day and told him that I had seen most of the "gang" and that they had asked about him, wondering if he was going to stay in California. I urged him to stick it out, that I would be with him in two months. After reading Frank's next letter I was more certain that he would stick it out and wait until I returned. He got a job in a restaurant at Pico and 14th Street. Working in the kitchen, he cleaned vegetables, peeled potatoes, made soup, and washed dishes. He worked from 5:00 in the afternoon to 2:00 in the morning, six days a week for $12. He also got a meal before work, another one at 9:00 PM, and another one after they closed. He wrote that he could order the "works"– soup, salad, a main dish, desert and coffee. In a more significant paragraph, he wrote: "So you think being alone is a blessing in disguise, do you? Well, after being out here a few weeks, I sort of think so myself. I know I couldn't have done a lot of things back home that I did, or am doing now. Because amongst people you know, you're stopped cold. Am I right? But out here you can go ahead and do it, what's the difference, nobody knows you. So that's what I'm doing". Frank was on to something -- In Los Angeles he was "free" to do what he had to do, but not back home where everyone knew him. This new awakening for Frank rang a bell with my own experience. I wrote Frank that I wanted to take a trip for a week to see my brother Rudolph at the Naval Station in Newport, Rhode Island. I had just earned $12.00 working as a "section hand" with my Uncle Ben. It was an emergency job that lasted only three days, but the money was more than enough for a week of hitchhiking. I could get by easily on a dollar a day. |
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For me, in 1939, the art of hitchhiking was a piece of cake. The expertise came naturally from my experience. To get any place, even around Bedford, I started to hitchhike at an early age. But my real smarts came in 1934-35 when I accumulated thousands of miles "on the road". Hitchhiking in the large Los Angeles area was even more important. I knew better than to motion my right thumb to a car that was speeding past me. Instead, I would always station myself at a red light or a boulevard stop sign. This key tactic was most important. The driver could take his eyes off the road and look me over. With an eager smile, I would ask for a lift. If the driver turned his eyes back to the road, I immediately went to the cars that were stopped behind him. I was able to approach three or four drivers before the light changed. Returning to the curb, I would then wait for the next red light. Invariably, within several red lights, I got my ride. My pick-ups came even quicker in the Los Angeles area because I was wearing my UCLA sweatshirt. On Wednesday morning, July 5th, I departed for my rendezvous with Rudy. After reaching Conneaut, Ohio I got my first long ride to Buffalo, N.Y. I traveled with a Mr. Burgess, who worked for The Cleveland Plain Dealer. Making good time, that same evening I arrived in Pittsfield, MA. I phoned Rudy to tell him that I would get there the next day, but he said his ship was leaving at 6:30 A.M. I continued to hitchhike, but with 200 miles to go, I arrived at Newport two hours too late. Rudy's navy buddy, Don Rosato, met me at the Naval Station. He told me that Rudy went aboard the cruiser, USS Quincy, for a "shakedown run". It was due back in New York City on July 20th, and if possible, Rudy wanted me to visit him there. Don gave me his parent's address in Yonkers, New York and asked that I visit them. With two weeks to kill, I surely did not want to hitchhike back to Bedford, and then after a week, hitchhike back to New York. So I decided to kill time by visiting places and people that I knew. My first objective was to go to Rumford, my birthplace in Maine. I was very lucky in my first ride out of Newport. Bob Rothwell, a salesman of Electro Lux vacuum cleaners took me all the way to Skowhegan, only 60 miles from Rumford. The next day, I met Mrs. Forni ("la gigia"), who had been my mother's neighbor and closest friend, when we lived there. From my mother, I knew " la gigia" must be a wonderful lady, and I knew it for sure after she took me in and treated me like a son. She was surprised and happy that I came to see her. She recalled how my mother, along with my brothers Rudy and Norman, had visited her in 1935 on a railroad pass. After dinner she took me to meet my Cipriani relatives. The next day, Cousin Alphonse showed me the house that I was born in and then we went to the cemetery where he pointed out my father's gravesite. For me, this was a memorable and solemn moment. He was only 28 when he died in 1916 and now after 23 years I came to his resting place. The next morning, after breakfast, Mrs. Forni forced three dollars in my hand as we were saying goodbye. My next stop was Bangor, 125 miles to the East, where I visited Mary Brown. She was married and had two small girls. Her playwright husband, Maurice Dolbier, was also a radio announcer in Bangor. It was three years since she corralled me into acting in her religious play and then introduced me to "The Prophet". We had a lot to talk about. At her insistence, I stayed over for a second day. I've often wondered about cause and effect, fate and destiny. What if her religious play had not come to Bedford? With no Mary Brown, would I have ever found myself at UCLA? I don't think so. Leaving Bangor, I got several rides to Brunswick, but then my next ride with a plumbing fixtures salesman took me all the way to Boston. I looked around for a "free" sleeping place. I had done this before. On earlier trips, I had slept in an empty church, a courthouse bench, a junkyard car, on a picnic table in a park, and in a small town jail. Here, the basement of a fire station became my "free" sleeping space. I slept on a stack of fire hose. Early the next morning I made a quick tour of the campus at Harvard University in Cambridge. Sitting in two classes as a monitor, I heard two brilliant lectures by Max Lerner, a syndicated columnist, and by John M. Brown, The Post's drama critic. That afternoon I saw "Young Pushkin", a foreign film about a famous Russian poet. The following day in New Haven, I spent some time looking over the Yale campus. On arriving in New York, July 14th, I went straight to Clifton, New Jersey to visit with Joe Baron and his wife Julia. It was wonderful to see Joe. He was the "hobo" buddy who befriended me in Kansas City in 1934. After spending two days with Joe, I visited the Feola family in Paterson and also the Rosato family in Yonkers. To my surprise, Don had been home on a weekend leave when I was visiting in Clifton and Patterson across the Hudson. Had I known I could have reversed my visits in order to see Don. After a subway ride to West 34th St. I rented a room for 50 cents at the William Sloane House (YMCA). It was a real classy place. The next morning, Tuesday, July 18th, I used the YMCA stationary to write home. In an earlier letter (from Bangor) I had already described the first 5 days of my trip. In this second letter, I gave my family an update on my activities for the last 8 days. I also told them that if Rudy's ship came in on Friday, we could be together on the weekend. I also asked them for three dollars and I explained why. My original ten dollars would have been more than enough for a seven day trip to Newport. But since Rudy's ship pulled out before I arrived, circumstances had changed. This was my 13th day, but I still had $6.00 left, thanks to the $3.00 from Mrs. Forni and another $2.00 from Mr. Feola in Patterson. I was very impressed with the city of New York. It became a tremendous experience, first for me, and then again for Rudy. With the map of the subway system, it was easy to master the three different routes that crisscrossed the boroughs from Coney Island to the Bronx and Yonkers. For a nickel one could ride, indefinitely, from one end to the other, without ever surfacing. For the two days, Wednesday and Thursday, I went to the World's Fair, The Battery, Radio City, Grant's Tomb, The Stock exchange, Columbia University, and to the Queen Mary. While I was aboard that ship, I secured the ship's stationery and wrote a short note to Mickey Massaro in Bedford that I was going to be a stowaway. The ship was about to pull out for London in an hour or so. Of course I was just kidding. At Columbia University in the cafeteria I noticed this inscription on the wall, "Hold fast to the spirit of youth, let years to come do what they may". I don't know whose quote it was, but it became mine as I scribbled it in my tiny pocket notebook. On Friday morning I wrote home that I had not yet met Rudy even though his ship had come in the previous night. The ship was at the 135th St. Pier but it was anchored in the middle of the Hudson River. A small tugboat went out to the cruiser, back and forth, so there was no way to get in touch with him until he receives my letter. Noticing a stack of U.S. Mail bags piled on the dock, I figured my letter was in one of those bags. That same evening I sneaked into a theater and saw the last act of a play with Katharine Hepburn. I told my folks that I would return again this afternoon to the 135th St. Pier to make contact with Rudy. And I thanked them for sending me $5.00, which would tide me over. I also told Vito my "stowaway note" to Mickey was a joke and I hope he didn't take it seriously. On Friday, July 21st, Rudy and I had our grand reunion. It was three days of fun and joy, comradeship, and brotherly love. We had been separated for a solid year, since my leaving home last August. With him in the Navy, and me at UCLA, who could predict when we would meet again? We returned to our room Sunday at 7:00 P.M. Rudy began writing a letter home relating our activities during those three wonderful days. Here is a good portion of his long letter: I received word aboard ship Friday morning that Hugo was at the dock waiting to see me. I sent a note to the dock asking Hugo to wait till 4:00 P.M. I just rated liberty Friday and not Sat. and Sun. I went ashore at 4:00 P.M. and what do you think. I finally met Hugo. We walked around town a bit and then had a spaghetti dinner at the same Italian restaurant that he and the bowlers from Bedford ate in when they attended the ABC here in 1937. We enjoyed the meal very much. Hugo had chicken and I had sausage with the spaghetti. We also had a glass of wine. We did more walking and talking till 12:00 midnight when I went back to the ship. Saturday morning I scanned the ship for a standby for me so that I may be with Hugo on Sat. and Sun. I got a standby so I took liberty Sat. at 1:00 P.M. I met Hugo at the dock again. We did more talking, walking, sightseeing and subway riding. I don't believe we missed one place of importance here in N.Y.C. We had another spaghetti dinner. I slept with him at the YMCA here. We got up at 11:00 A.M. this morning. We went to the Astor Theater and saw "Goodbye Mr. Chips" starring Robert Donat, Greer Garson and Terry Kilburn. The price was 25 cents. After the movie we ventured to visit the USS Quincy. We got on the wrong subway and found ourselves in Harlem. When we finally got to the dock, Don's father was there waiting to go to the ship to visit me. At this time word came that no more visitors were allowed on the Quincy. The three of us then visited Grant's Tomb and Riverside Church, which is John D. Rockefeller's church. We then walked to Columbia University and got a subway. Mr. Rosato went to Yonkers and we went to eat at the same restaurant. Another spaghetti dinner. We walked around more. Visited The Public Library, Empire State Building and the Post Office. We are now in Hugo's room at the "Y" -– he is reading the papers. The places we visited follows: Madison Square Garden, Rockefeller Center, Grand Central Station, Metropolitan Opera House, Public Library, Post Office, Pennsylvania Station, Jack Dempsey's, Empire State Bldg, The Aquarium, The Statue of Liberty, St. Patrick's Cathedral, City Hall, walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square, walked around to see the theaters for stage plays, Fifth Avenue, 42nd. Street, Central Park, Wall Street, The Stock Exchange, the place where George Washington was inaugurated, Battery Park, Trinity Church, and St. Paul's Church. I will go back to the ship tonight, Hugo will leave here tomorrow morning for Washington D.C. Vito, Hugo received your special delivery letter and thanks you for the dollar. And it's a good thing you sent Hugo the five dollars cause we used it and some of my money also. I gave Hugo $2.50, so he will have three dollars when he leaves here. He thinks it will be enough considering possible "free" dinners in Virginia and West Virginia. My ship will be in New York until Sat. July 29th Hugo expects to be home on that same Saturday, if not sooner. I left New York Monday afternoon. Getting one ride all the way, I was in Washington D.C. at 9:00 P.M. I took a room at the YMCA. In the morning I walked to the Lincoln Memorial, the White House, and to the George Washington Monument. I visited the House and Senate Chambers in the Capitol Building. The next day I hitchhiked south to Charlottesville, VA. I went to the University to see Dr. Howard; he had told me that he would be there for a History Seminar during the summer. My sudden appearance surprised him. He then surprised me by inviting me to sit in with his seminar students. Later, we had lunch in the cafeteria and I filled him in about my hitchhiking. I assured Dr. Howard that I would be back at UCLA in September. That night in Charlottesville, I slept on the bandstand in a park. I wanted to make one more stop -- Richwood, West Virginia. I had relatives in Richwood that I had never met and I knew it was now or never. My stepfather migrated from Italy to Richwood and later moved to Bedford where he married my mother. In Richwood, however, he still had a sister with four daughters. On my way to Richwood, I had to hitchhike on state roads that were off the beaten path. My rides were short and few and far between. At Lexington, I got my "free" sleeping space in a CCC camp and also answered the call for breakfast in the morning. I recall one particular ride with Hal Rossen, a farmer in Culpepper, VA. When I told him that I was from Los Angeles, he started to tell me about his brother, Robert Rossen, a "hot shot" movie director in Hollywood. I told him that I had seen some movies that Robert had made. Hal responded, "He may be a "hot shot" out there, but not here with me". From his remark, the two brothers seemed more apart than the miles that separated them. When I got to Richwood I met my father's sister, Fedela, her husband John Di Rito, and their six children. I also met Dominic who was married to Rose, the older daughter. Since my visit was a complete surprise their hospitality overwhelmed me. After answering all their questions about our family in Bedford, they expressed the hope that Aunt Caroline and my stepfather would come to see them. I made a big hit with the teen-age girls, Antoinette, and her twin sisters, Linda and Ida, especially after I casually mentioned the many movie stars I had seen in Hollywood. The next morning Dominic drove me to Charleston, getting me to the main highway that would take me to Bedford. Hitchhiking day and night, I arrived home early on Saturday morning, July 29th. It was a wonderful trip. I left home with eleven dollars and came back with a nickel. My trip to see Rudy blossomed into a 24-day tour of nine Northeastern States. This would not have been possible without the generous hospitality that I received all along the way. The art of hitchhiking made this long journey a joyful adventure. Hugo P. Cipriani |