As we got closer to America, the sea became smooth and life returned to normal. The SS Nieuw Amsterdam finally entered New York Harbor on the evening of November 8, 1948. Most passengers stood on the top deck to see the skyline of downtown Manhattan. There were many “oohs” and “aahs” as the Statue of Liberty came into view. Standing at the entrance to New York Harbor with her crown lit up and her torch ablaze, she was a beacon of hope for all of us. Seeing the impressive statue in person took my breath away—she was more beautiful than I had imagined, her tall and graceful presence so welcoming.
Manhattan’s very tall buildings were also lit up with yellow, blue, and red lights, some even flashing. The sight was overwhelming. I recognized the Empire State Building in the distance. In a Prague movie house, I had seen King Kong climb that building, and I was hoping to see that gorilla right now. Clutching my mother’s hand, I thought of the people we had left behind, especially my father and my grandparents. The moisture in my eyes were tears of joy. I felt hopeful. Almost as if on cue, my mother reminded me that today was election day in the United States, where Americans had free and open elections. It was the day Harry Truman, a democrat, beat Thomas Dewey, a republican, for the presidency of the United States.
The next morning, as we walked down the gangplank, we heard the word “Zdenka.” As I turned, I saw a tall man wearing a hat like my father’s waving to us. I was finally meeting Uncle Leo Altheim. He gave my mother a hug and extended his big hand to me. We walked away from the dock on the West Side, heading east on 42nd Street. As we walked, I saw groups of mounted policemen wearing dark blue uniforms and helmets. Their horses trotted near the curb. One horse came very close, but the policeman pulled him back.
Some of the cars were painted yellow with black checks and a little box sitting on top. Leo explained that these were Checker cabs and could carry up to six passengers. He said, “You’ll see. We’ll take one later.” He laughed again. What a happy man, I thought. The streets were noisy with cars and cabs honking their horns constantly. I had never heard such noise in Prague. Buses and large trucks competed for street space, and whenever the lights turned red, traffic stopped and exhaust pipes spewed out gray smoke. My eyes fell on the many blinking neon signs in red, blue, white, green, yellow, and brown. “Going out of business sale,” “All you can eat,” “Big Band music,” “Latest electronics,” “Come in and look around.”
There were people everywhere—men in suits, and women in dresses and high heels, most walking briskly. Leo explained that most people were going to work in offices or shopping in the many stores in this area. After a while, we reached Times Square, where a large electronic screen flashed headlines. Leo said the headlines changed all the time and included politics, business, sports, weather, everything. A lot of people were reading the latest news before moving on. The electronic board was owned and operated by the New York Times, which Leo called the best newspaper in America.
Soon, we took a staircase down into the subway. Leo helped us with the bulky wooden turnstiles, and we boarded a train headed for Flushing in Queens. After a few stops, the underground train suddenly emerged into daylight on an elevated track. Leo explained that when it was underground, the train was called a subway, and when it emerged, it was called the El, short for elevated. In about half an hour, we got off at the Jackson Heights stop, walked down a steep staircase, and walked a few blocks to a large apartment house.
We took an elevator up to the Altheims’ apartment. Maryanne was excited to see us: “Come in, come in, welcome to America,” she said. The air smelled of freshly baked muffins. We were just in time for brunch, our first meal in America. I did not understand the difference between a brunch and lunch. Leo explained that brunch is a meal that combines breakfast and lunch, which I understood when I saw the dining table full of plates piled with food: scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, hard cheeses, cream cheese, and two items I had never seen. “These are bagels,” Maryanne said, pointing to round breads, each with a hole in the middle. Some were topped with sesame seeds, others poppy, and one had all sorts of toppings. She called it an “everything” bagel; it was the one I wanted. Maryanne sliced the bagel in half, spread cream cheese on both halves, and then placed several thin slices of something pinkish on top of the cream cheese. She explained that it was smoked salmon. I wasn’t sure, but when I bit into it, I liked it.
The next day, we were joined by their neighbor’s two kids, Sammy and Maddy. Sammy was taller than I was and lean, while Maddy was about my height. Sammy stood very straight and seemed serious, while Maddy smiled a lot. They were around my age, but my English was limited, so we did not talk much. When we got to the movie house, Leo bought four tickets, and when we reached the counter, he asked for a large bucket of popcorn, with extra butter, and four Coca Colas. I knew what a Coca Cola was but had never tasted one. The drink was cold and fizzy; the bubbles went right up my nose. I liked the taste. Leo told me to take some popcorn, and when I only took one piece, he insisted I take a handful. The butter started to ooze onto my hands, and Leo handed me a paper napkin.
The lights went down, and suddenly a group of cowboys appeared on the screen, riding their horses across a rocky terrain. They were chasing a group of “Indians,” who were hiding behind rocks and boulders. The cowboys pulled out their pistols and started to shoot the Indians, who fired back, and pretty soon, shots were coming from many directions. The shooting reminded me of the war at home, and I started to look for a spot to hide, just in case. Leo reassured me the shots were coming from loudspeakers surrounding the screen. He also explained that the cowboys were the good guys, and the Indians wanted to hurt the cowboys. “The Indians are the bad guys,” he added. It was my first introduction to Americans’ harmful stereotypes about indigenous people.
I flashed back to the toy Indians with which I had played in Prague. I teamed up those Indians with American soldiers to fight the Germans. How could my good guys suddenly become the bad guys? The Indians in the film were clever, but also mean. They captured the leader of the cowboys, tied him to a pole, and stacked piles of logs around him before setting them on fire. As the flames rose higher and higher, the leader was overcome with smoke. I worried that he would be killed. I heard so many gasps, it seemed that every kid in the theater had the same fear.
Suddenly, the film stopped. I asked Leo why it had ended so suddenly. He said we’ll have to come back next Saturday to find out what happens. He told me the hero always faced danger at the end of each episode. When I asked why the Indians looked so white, Leo explained that most actors in Hollywood were white, so the studio made them look darker. It was all exciting, and I didn’t see one Nazi or Russian soldier in the whole film. I hoped we could come back the following Saturday, and Leo said that we could.
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