I had planned to begin this installment with the trip from Forest Hill to Guam, but I discovered (as I will once in a while) that I had missed something about Louisiana that was etched into my memory.
While I was in the fourth grade, I made friends with Jessie. I still remember him better than anyone else I knew back then. He lived about a mile south of town on the main highway, and we spent a lot of time together. If I recall correctly, an old railroad spur crossed the highway by his house. Whether we followed that spur and found the old rail yard or he already knew about it (more likely), we spent a lot of our time there. Derelicts from railroad days past lay neglected on the tracks of the yard.
Most of them had disintegrated to the point of being irreparable, but one locomotive still occupies my memories of that time. Unlike most steam engines this one was powered by cylinders on just one side. They turned a driveshaft connected to the drive wheels. After becoming used to the big six and eight driver engines that the Missouri Pacific used, I was captivated by that little engine decaying in the rail yard. The rest of the relics were interesting, even fascinating, but that engine was somehow awe inspiring. I can’t tell you why, but that rail yard and the locomotive still live in my memory.
On a visit to Louisiana before mom moved to California I searched out the rail yard. Weeds had overgrown the tracks and most of the decrepit rail cars had been removed. Unfortunately, that included the little engine. That is one of my last memories of my childhood in Louisiana.
Now back to the narrative.
Shortly after dad sent off his application he was called to someplace in Texas – Houston, I think – for a job interview. It wasn’t long afterwards that he was off to Guam. The rest of us stayed in Louisiana while he got settled in his job and made the arrangements for us to join him. We were finally packed up and ready to go in September (It had to be 1948, but for some reason every time I try to figure it out, I get a different answer).
We (that would be mom, Richard, Susan, and I) took the Missouri Pacific to Lake Charles. We arrived in the afternoon and had some time to kill. I remember two things: there was a lake in walking distance and we had the best fried chicken I ever ate at a café, again in walking distance. (I don’t believe the station was where it now is, but it was probably very close.)
If I recall correctly, we had some relatives come down to Lake Charles to see us off. We caught the train, The Sunset Limited, after dinner. We had tickets for a Pullman car. We sat in facing seats that converted into a lower bunk, while the upper bunk was a fold-down arrangement. Privacy was provided by curtains.
I don’t remember many details. I remember having the first Scribbly Giblet comic book. Scribbly was the prototypical geek. He was a cartoonist who drew an unlikely hero who looked like him. I loved the comic, but it didn’t last. I remember the plains. I think they were in west Texas, but they could have been in New Mexico or Arizona. One other strange memory: we were on the left side of the train. (I have to wonder why certain things get etched into our memories and more important things evaporate. What could possibly be the significance to being on the left side of the train?)
We arrived in Los Angeles in the morning and hung around the station neighborhood until we could board the train to San Francisco. I know the train had a name (Coastliner comes to mind, but I can’t verify that. The current Amtrak train has a different name.) The only memory I have of that morning was that the tracks out of the station were embedded in the pavement so cars could drive over them conveniently.
I think the train to San Francisco was an overnighter because I don’t remember having to spend the night in a hotel, but I’m only speculating. I do remember that San Francisco was cold and we were dressed for the tropics. I don’t remember boarding the ship the next morning other than it simply involved walking up a gangway and turning over some kind of paperwork.
We travelled on a Navy passenger ship. Navy ship names were supposed to honor someone or something. Their passenger ships were named after Army generals. I’m not sure they were really honoring generals or making fun of the Army. One of the ships we took – and I’m not sure it was going to Guam or returning to the States – was the General Anderson.
I don’t remember many details of the trip except that the theater had a matinee every day. I know I saw “The Perils of Pauline,” and it entranced me (probably because of the subtle resemblance to Scribbly Giblet). I also saw a short subject that featured the Benny Goodman orchestra doing “Sing Sing Sing” with Gene Krupa bashing the drums. Part of that performance is available on YouTube.
An aside: I started this with the goal of putting out one segment every week. This one was supposed to be out last Thursday. Rather than adjust my schedule I’m going to do my best to get the next one out this coming Thursday. It will start our stay on Guam. Wish me luck.