Impressions of the New World
The First Day — June 3, 1954
My first impressions of America are still quite vivid in my memory, and there were many, especially in the first days and weeks. Aunt Martha and Uncle Adolph-who had sponsored my immigration-lived in Cranford, New Jersey, about twenty miles southwest of New York City. They met me at the dock in New York.
My first new experience in America was getting a sandwich at the snack bar at the pier in New York. Aunt Martha told me the choices were ham, cheese, ham and cheese combination, and turkey. I did not know what turkey was and Aunt Martha did not know the word for it in German. I chose ham. Now, this is a snack bar at the pier in New York City. Nothing fancy but still quite nice, I thought. I was not used to eating out. We had been glad to have food to eat at all.
I received my ham sandwich and my first lesson in the new country. The sandwich consisted of two slices of slightly sweet, but otherwise tasteless, white bread and a thin slice of ham, most likely cut with a razor blade. I took a bite and my face must have betrayed surprise. Aunt Martha questioned me, and I was honest and said that I did not expect to have to eat dry bread in America. We had to eat it during the many bad years, but now we had butter in Germany, or at least margarine, to spread on the bread. Aunt Martha told me that people in America don't want to get fat, so they don't eat butter on their sandwiches. But that was not all; there was not enough ham on that sandwich to even flavor the bread, and the bread turned to glue in my mouth. I was not impressed with American sandwiches. The dry bread brought back memories of times which all Germans tried to forget. I could not wait to write to Mom and tell her that people here voluntarily eat dry bread because they worry about getting fat. In Germany this was unheard of at that time. We were so happy to have food again and not to be starving any longer.
My luggage consisted of two large suitcases which held all of my worldly possessions, for the most part books and memorabilia. One of the suitcases was only half filled at that. After we walked out into the street I looked around and was shocked. I thought: “This is New York-the city that everyone longs to see?” Twelfth Avenue, where New York's piers are located, was far from being an impressive area and must have shocked many an immigrant into thinking that this was representative of America. I knew then that I would not like New York and hoped that New Jersey would be nicer.
Then there was the drive to Cranford. After leaving the parking area at the pier which was underneath a highway, we were immediately in backup traffic for the Lincoln Tunnel, perhaps a kilometer away-I did not yet know about miles. Slowly we inched our way towards the entrance of the tunnel. Streets from all directions were feeding into the entrance area, and we had already turned into several different streets to get into line. At no time did we drive through nice areas that looked anything like the pictures I had seen of Manhattan.
Finally we were at the tunnel entrance and on our way to New Jersey. On the other side I saw only factories and other industrial areas instead of the Garden State I expected to see. I had no map and did not know the location of our destination, but I hoped that it would be far away from this area. Until now I had not seen anyplace where people could live. I had the feeling that the whole area was unfit for human habitation, particularly with the extreme discomfort of the heat and humidity.
This was before air conditioned cars and homes. When both Aunt and Uncle had shed their jackets before getting into the steaming car in New York, I had done the same. Even then it was unbearable, and I found out that one could not open a window because Aunt Martha was sensitive to drafts.
As we were driving along and I was absorbed with the scenery which had not yet changed for the better, I became just vaguely aware of some arguing going on in the front of the car. Aunt and Uncle spoke a curious version of German which was a mix of English, German, and English words pronounced the German way. Some of the words even were half English and half German. It took me a while before I understood this unique language. However, at that point I heard Aunt Martha complain about the heat, and Uncle saying he heard on the radio that it was supposed to be above a hundred degrees. Aunt Martha's reply was that she did not think it was a hundred. Their conversation on the subject went back and forth a number of times, all the while I wondered about this hundred degree business, and whether or not I misunderstood something. I did not know the people who were my relatives, and I hesitated to interfere with their debate. When Aunt Martha made a comment to me about how hot it was, I told her that this was the worst heat I had ever experienced but that it could not possibly be a hundred degrees, because one hundred degrees is the boiling point.
Lesson number two for today: I was educated about Fahrenheit being different from Celsius, which is the measurement that I was used to. I was surprised. In school I had heard about Fahrenheit, it being an outdated way of measuring temperature, and last used in Germany about two hundred years earlier. Now I find that I am in the New World and ancient measurements are still in use. Puzzling.