Amerikai Magyar Szó, 1987. január-június (41. évfolyam, 1-25. szám)
1987-01-08 / 1. szám
AMERIKAI MAGYAR SZÓ Thursday, Jan. 8. 1987. 12. I was getting stuck with the dirty, crappy labor work. "That's not important," the doctor said. "Because you read a great deal, you listen well to experienced people, you learn quickly and have great enthusiasm. They will give you a test, which you will pass easily." While glowing with pride at this praise, the doctor's second surprise completely overwhelmed me. "While in medical school you can live in our home and earn your room and board by helping out when you can. Or, if it suits you, you can pay us a little after you are earning fees. You will be taking your residency in one of the fine Houston hospitals, so you will be in our home for a number of years." "Thank you very much, Doctor," I said. "Your comments make me very glad to have worked in your hospital. It is a wonderful experience I will never forget. You can be sure I will give your generous offer the most serious consideration." We shook hands and then embraced. Going out the hopsital door, I remembered that Vic seemed happy to leave. He rarely mentioned her, but he must have been looking forward to seeing Carmen, a trim, shapely, high-yellow Creole. He had a recent letter from her patching up their dispute. Carmen earned more than anyone in our neighborhood, including the doctor. Three or four evenings about seven o'clock she appeared on her porch in a striking, tight gown of bold color. A Cadillac or some sleek sports car would pull up in front of her house. With a wave to the neighbors and a big smile that would set them all to gossip, she hopped into the car of the evening. Her most frequent date had the classiest car, an all-aluminum Cord touring auto, with spoke wheels and the brightest yellow paint, Returning in one or two hours, Carmen \ ould race into her house and come out ian older dress. She always went to Vic's porch and showed him the fifty dollars she earned, a huge sum during the Depression. The ride in the snazzy Cord earned her one hundred dollars. Hand in hand, Carmen and Vic would head for the grassy banks cf the Wolf Creek levee, just up the street. They broke up when Vic tried to keep her from going away for a week in the yellow Cord. That's why Vic had been willing to join me on this job-hunting trip. We decided to spend one more night at the hospital, where we drank gallons of coffee and talked half the night. We agreed to join the Army or head for the Mardi Gras in New Orleans, in that order. "Vic, the most amazing man I met on the road was Jack Brown. Planning for New Orleans reminds me to tell you of one man who found the secret of happiness." "I'll find my happiness when we get back to Dayton and her name is Carmen." "If that doesn't work out, consider Brown's formula." "What's so great about him?" Vic asked. "We met the year before while picking apples in the Yakima Valley of Washington. Jack was at the tail end of his work year and humming songs most of the time." "So, what impressed you about a humming apple picker?" I outlined Jack's schedule starting with strawberries in March or April, then up to Georgia for more berries and early peaches. By late spring the berries in Michigan were ready for Jack's swift hands. He knew every place around the Great Lakes with fruit belts. He knew where pockets of fruit were growing in the Midwestern valleys that I passed through blindly. He doubled back to Michigan in late summer when huge orchards of peaches and pears were ready to harvest. Jack Brown was never more than a day or two between orchards when he landed in Yakima for his last job of the year. "Jack showed me how to pick real fast. When I asked him where he learned to be the fastest picker, he said at the university. He talked like a professor without trying. "Since he picked twice as fast as the pickers I asked what he did with all that money. He said he sent it to a small bank in Louisiana for his winter holiday. He didn't say, but I gathered from his talks that he had no family. "Then he told me his winter schedule. After the last of the apples in October, he made a bee line for New Orleans. He stayed away from bars, but went to recitals, museums and churches where in a few days, never a week, he would meet his 'wife for the winter.' "He would take her to a back bayou where he kept his houseboat. On the excuse of checking out the engine and the boat they would meander on the bayous for two or three days. Only once in twelve years did his 'trial run' turn out bad enough to drop off that lady and try for another. "Wasn't that a little sneaky?" Vic cut in. "Jack called it research and it worked." "For the next four or five months Jack would cruise the bayou country, or just anchor and fish. Much of the time he had his record player on with that unusual music he hummed in the apple trees. When I asked him at Yakima why his songs were so long, he said they were arias from great operas. I think he knew them all. "Jack told me that when the winter season was over he'd take his 'wife of the winter' back to New Orleans. And he was always eager to start the next year's picking, to meet interesting people like me, and maybe meet his next 'winter wife' up in some fruit tree." "Sounds like a smart guy and he sure impressed you," said Vic. "He sure did!" I replied. During the rail rides to New Orleans and then home to Dayton, my thoughts were often on the hospital and that marvelous doctor. I thought many times of going back to the Houston hospital. I didn't go because I missed my family, especially Pop, and did not want to be so far from them again. But in my sleepy daydreams, bouncing around in an old boxcar, I thought it wouldn't be long before my doctor's shingle would be out front. My fees would be extremely low. There would be short waits in my office and the magazines would be new. I'd repay Pop for the years he cared for me and help the rest of the family. I would travel a lot and always first class inside the trains. It would be good to be a doctor. All of them earn more than one dollar a week. After leaving the hospital in South Houston, Victor and I agreed to join the Army. "Not the Three-C's," he joked, "but the real U.S. Army." Vic had been in the Navy for four years, so the Civilian Conservation Corps, a work program for unemployed young men, was not for him. Nor for me. We were too proud for an amateur organization. We headed for downtown Houston and the Army Recruiting Office. "If you waited around for a year we couldn't oblige you boys from Ohio," the Sergeant said, showing us a long waiting-list of Texans. In the uniform of the army of Uncle Sam with my buddy, Vic (on the right) "You migEt try Brownsville down on the border. There ain't too many white boys down there, let alone trying to get in the Army." "Do they fill their quotas with colored boys?" I asked. "When you say colored, do you mean niggers or spies?" he asked surprised at my polite term, since only educated people used "colored" or "Negro" in those days. "We don't have any Mexicans in Ohio," I replied. "You gotta be a citizen to get in the Army, and that leaves most Brownsville boys out, so you have a chance to make it," he explained, passing up my ethnic ignorance. Freight trains to that corner of Texas, down on the Mexican border, were scarce. "It's not that far. Let's hitch-hike," suggested Vic. "We're not bums on the rails, but I'm willing to forget pride and take the; sissy way if that gets us in the Army faster," I agreed. In Brownsville, the Recruiting- Office was empty except for the Sargeant. He was friendly, talking as fast as a used-car salesman. He outlined many Army benefits, emphasizing the lifetime security in a 30-year, or even a 20-year, hitch. "Joining at my office will put you on a Texas base, with year-round sunshine and away from the miserable winters up north," was his best pitch. We filled out papers and took a preliminary physical examination. "Sorry, young fellow, you wouldn't pass the doctor. Army regulations call for recruits to weigh at least 120 pounds, and you only hit 114 with your clothes on," he announced. "You're in good shape except for being too damned skinny and underweight, so go home, eat a lot of bananas and you'll soon be in the Army up there." (To be continued)
