LOCATING CALIFORNIA

LOCATING  CALIFORNIA

No problem.  Once on the road rides
were plentiful. 

Soon I arrived in Mitchell, South Dakota,
intent on saying good-bye to old friends.

Loretta seemed preoccupied.  I looked up
a painter friend. He said, "I think she is
seeing some airman.  So, the next morning
I decided to hit the road.  The thermometer
outside my hotel room read 110 degrees
and it was in the shade and early in the day.

Walking to the edge of town , the first car
that came by stopped.  "Where ya goin, the
driver asked?"  "We`re goin to Californy
too" he said.

The driver, about 30 was from around
Mitchell, his passenger was an older man,
around 50, crabby, whiney and not pleasant.
They were going to California looking for
work, probably  in an aircraft plant which
was rumored to be around Burbank.
Than was fine with me since it was all
California.

I bought them one tank of gas, then I had
.15 cents left.  They would stop for lunch and
I would pretend to be sleeping so I would not
have to admit that I was broke.

We eventually arrived in Burbank, after about
three days and it was just getting dark.
The driver stopped at the edge of a vacant lot
and let me out.

Lonesome------- scared------ worried.

On the next lot down the street was a large
building , looked like a hotel.

I walked past it several times, slower,  looked
in the windows.

Walked inside,,,,, just barely inside

I could see nice overstuffed furniture in a
large lobby area.     I was tired.
Walked out around the building again, then
walked in and tentatively sat in one of the
chairs----- fell sound asleep.....

A nice elderly man was sitting accross from
me when I awoke.  He smiled, said "where you
from?"    Faith, South Dakota I said.  He got
up and left.  In a few minutes he came back
and handed me a room key.  "This is your
room " he said.   " I own this hotel, come and
ask for me in the morning and I will send you
to a friend who will give you work."
"Incidentally, Faith is my home town also".

True to his word, the hotel owner sent me to
a friend who owned a bowling alley and my
job was "fry cook".

Everything went well day after day.  I kept
asking , "where is Alameda" and nobody knew.
Most thought it was the Alameda (street) in
downtown Los Angelos.  Finally some kind soul
got the information from me, about my aunt in
Alameda, called her and she sent me a bus
ticket.
Then I discovered Alameda was like 700 miles
away.   When the bus pulled in to Oakland my
heart sank.   San Pablo Avenue in Oakland
looked like a war zone.  Ancient houses , no
paint, dirty, streets dirty.  Someone showed me
how to catch a bus to Alameda.

In Alameda my aunt lived at 2200 something
Buena Vista Avenue---- not wanting to miss it
I got off the bus as soon as it came to Buena Vista
then I walked the three miles to 2200 something.

My dear Aunt fed me, gave me a room and
called the manager of American Can Company.
He said, "Start tomorrow morning".
The job was operating a punch press machine.
I won`t bore you with the job, needless to say , it
was the most boring thing I have ever done in my
life.
Three days later I quit.

The next day, a telegram from Lockheed Aircraft
in Burbank.  "Report for work in two days".
I took the next bus to burbank.  At bakersfield I
recieved a telegram from my new friends in Alameda.
"Come home now, wonderful job waiting".

Got off the buss and caught another one back to
Alameda where my "friends" had arranged for me
to be a Floor Boy in the Oakland Garage.
The job was parking cars for tenants in the area
and picking them up in their cars, transporting
them to planes , or wherever they wished to go.

South Dakota did not require a license to drive and
I was not aware that California did........

------   John Crowley