HARRY'S STORY - PART III OF IV
Harry’s Story - Part III of IV
There’s more about Harry…come back tomorrow to read Part IV
Harry set foot on American soil for the first time on November 6, 1957. He wrote, “Upon my arrival at La Guardia Airport, I was distraught, forlorn, not knowing where to go, or what to do. …I looked around and saw two women waving at me. I immediately established eye contact with them. Both looked at me, probably wondering: ‘Where will this greenhorn fit into American life?’ They took me to the parking lot where a dilapidated 1948 Pontiac stared at me. Then and there I realized that my dream of having rich relatives had dissipated.
“After leaving the airport and driving a few miles, Fannie [Sharon’s paternal aunt] pulled over to the side of the road, suggesting that I was probably hungry, offering me a sandwich and coffee from a thermos. She was of the motherly type. It was my first most tasty tuna sandwich that I ate in the United States, or maybe I was just hungry.
“My two female escorts decided to drive through Manhattan Island, to show me the wonders of New York, and its skyscrapers…I hate to say it, but it seemed to me that my bad luck followed me all the way to the United States.
“Driving through the center of Manhattan during rush hour, our car conked out and refused to move. I had no choice but to step outside and help push the car over to the curb. Me, in my oversized coat, my cousin Fannie not too slim of a woman, and the traffic cop, pushing an old, beat-up car in the middle of a most popular street in New York, namely, Fifth Avenue. It was a scene to remember, a fine welcome for my first day in the land of opportunity…
“In the late afternoon, after I rested a few hours, I was invited to Fannie’s brother, Ben [Sharon’s father], for dinner, but before reaching our destination, outside Ben’s house, I was nabbed to participate in a quorum in a nearby little synagogue for the mincha [afternoon] services.
“In Ben’s house, I encountered for the first time a small, very small square wooden talking box with black and white pictures in it. They called the box ‘television.’ At that time, it was still a novelty in the USA. The dinner prepared for me by cousin Ida [Sharon’s mother], Ben’s wife, was fit for a king in my opinion.
“After a night in a not-too-comfortable apartment, which cousin Fannie shared with aunt Sarah [Cousin Harry refers here to Sarah, the grandaunt of Fannie’s sister-in-law Cerna who along with Sharon’s Aunt Fannie, greeted Harry at the airport], I was invited to go to Cousin Cerna and Jerome’s [Sharon’s aunt and uncle] house. Jerome was the youngest brother of Fannie.
“…for breakfast, I was treated with eggs, hash brown potatoes, and orange juice. The first time when they put on the breakfast table the plate with the scrambled eggs in front of me I was stunned and couldn’t believe my eyes. In Israel two or three eggs were the weekly ration which I saved for the children, and here they gave me three eggs at once for breakfast only.
“…Cerna and Jerome were excellent hosts, very hospitable, and both separately stuffed into my pocket a few dollars so that my pockets shouldn’t remain empty…Cerna mothered me and always wrapped me with a scarf, a scarf that I treasured to this day as a nostalgic souvenir of my arrival in the USA.”
Minimalists are certainly cringing at the thought that Harry kept that scarf from my aunt. One of my prized possessions is the pin, which says “Sharon” that Harry brought for me when he came to join us at the 1965 World’s Fair in New York.
Getting back to Harry’s 1957 arrival in the states, he observed, “After my arrival in Newark, New Jersey, it did not take too long to notice that none of Anna’s relatives were well off. They all worked hard and barely made ends meet.
“Jerome and Ben worked two jobs. They were mail carriers during the day and at night, Jerome worked in a gas station and Ben as some kind of shipping clerk or delivery man. I didn’t even think of asking the cousins to pay or even lend me money for my passage to Los Angeles.”
Harry was bewildered as he did not get a response from his sister in Los Angeles after writing to her about his arrival and the need for money to buy a railroad ticket to California. “Cousin Fannie noticed my being distraught and tried to cheer me up… I couldn’t and wouldn’t have turned to my landsmen [fellow countrymen] for money. It would have been considered charity, and beneath my dignity…
“One afternoon I was visited by Fannie’s friend, Miss Pearl Moskowitz whose parents were natives of Chudnov, a very friendly lady. Fannie told me that Pearl was lending me [money] for a ticket to Los Angeles, and as soon as I was settled, to try and pay her back. I happily obliged…
”June 1, 1958, was my lucky day, this was the day of Anna’s arrival in New York. Cousin Fannie met them at the airport together with her brother Ben, and my family received a warm welcome from the cousins whom she never met before. Anna never dreamed of such a pleasant reunion. But there is a proverbial saying: ‘A mountain with a mountain does not meet however people do.’ Anna told me later that the warm welcome from her cousins overwhelmed her.”
Throughout the years, the timeless expression on Anna’s face, the laughter, and the amazement she showed at the thought of the “seven-course” meal my mother served were priceless. She said after the appetizer, soup, and salad she could not believe her eyes when my mother brought a large turkey to the table. She had never seen such an abundance of food in her life.
Esther, Anna, Rema, Harry
Be sure to check back tomorrow at sharonmarkcohen.com and click “blog” to read Part IV, the conclusion of the blog post series, Harry’s Story.