The apartment building we'd moved into after getting married was sold, and the units became condominiums. So we moved in with Dot's mom and dad.
At about this same time [early 1948], we bought a television set— the first in the family. All of our relatives would come over, line up chairs, and watch a very tiny, six-inch screen. Wrestling was big, and commericals were not to be missed.
We also bought a tv screen “enlarger”—a water-filled, curved, plastic thing that clamped onto the screen. With it came strips of red, green and blue plastic. Instantly, we owned a “color” television.
Most of our evenings were family centered— cards with Vertus and Sis, and Dot's parents, shopping, a lot of movies, and many parties.
Post-war housing was still difficult to find [mid-1948], so we grabbed the first one we found. Again we painted, cleaned, wallpapered, and bought second-hand furniture.
Our new home was equipped with “piped-in” music: from the tavern one floor below us, starting at 8 a.m. and ending at 4 (a.m.). The Blue Skirt Waltz was a particular favorite.
In the fall of 1948, we found out that we'd soon be parents.
* * *
Jan. 1st, 1949. We set off to drive from Chicago to Los Angeles to visit my brother. I'd just bought a 1942 Oldsmobile—in good shape, and very luxurious.
The first two days out on Route 66 were very cold, the roads snow-packed—and we couldn't get the car's heater to work.
We drove the first 1,000 miles in overcoats before we got a mechanic. We watched him reach under the dash, pull a lever, and suddenly, we had heat. Dave the husband felt pretty stupid, but we laughed.
Near Flagstaff, Arizona, we ran into a blizzard and had to sit all day in the car until a plow cleared our way. We then followed that plow for 50 miles.
Next day, we got into L.A. at night, and spent hours going round and round on the freeways, getting lost. Dorothy couldn't stop crying. It had been a long six days. On the return trip, things would get even worse.
Leaving Los Angeles, we encountered southern California's first big snowstorm in over 100 years. At one point, state troopers stopped us from going further—we had no chains on our tires, and couldn't afford to buy any. And so we were forced to turn back to L.A. to borrow them from my brother.
On the road again, it was very cold, and in a short while, our tire chains broke loose.
After an overnight stay at a motel in New Mexico, I noticed a stuffed pillowcase in the back seat. Dot had “borrowed” a chenile bedspread—one embroidered with cactus and a Mexican figure.
We thought that by now, our troubles were over, but there was even more to come.
We were in Oklahoma, starting out early in the day. Traffic was light. On a two-lane road, we climbed a hill. Suddenly, barreling straight towards us in our lane was a flat-bed semi-trailer. I turned hard to the right, in order to run off the road and avoid being hit. But the truck hit our car anyway, throwing us upside down.
We rolled over and landed on our wheels, about 20 feet from the highway, in a farmer's field. Luckily, besides a few bruises and a cut or two, we were all right. Our car was totalled.
We took a train home from there.
Dot and Dave's wreck— their 1942 Oldsmobile, after the crash.
* * *
We became mom and dad in the summer of 1949, when our son, David, was born at Englewood Hospital.
With our new baby, the music, drunks (and bugs) at our place were really too much to bear any longer. And so we found ourselves living with Dot's folks once again.
We'd signed up for the G.I. housing project homes near 79th and Cicero Ave.. These were mostly plywood, temporary buildings, renting to veterans at a very low cost.
The unit we were rented was part of a long building which had been sectioned off with plywood into house trailer-sized spaces The front section was an all-purpose room. The rear portion had a small kitchen and a shower-bath combination.
The walls were so thin you could hear people breathing next door. Dorothy and I slept on a pull-out couch. Dave slept in a small crib we had bought.
Dot and me at the front door of our G.I. housing
Our lives underwent a complete change there. With our child, Dave, and our shabby place, and the fact that we were trying very hard to get ahead, made us aware that we were bound together—truly a family.
After a few months we moved to a two-bedroom unit, part of a four unit larger building. But the people next door had three children who ran their little bikes into the walls constantly.
As 1949 ended, we moved to—you guessed it— Dot's parents.
A new decade was beginning.
