In Memoriam for Four Fathers. Happily, they left behind "fingerprints".

My Autobiography
by Bruno (Four Sons)

It is amazing how my personality, character and perception could change so much in twenty years.

Today I am cheerful, personable, happy, optimistic and strong whereas during my entire teens I was morose, dull, melancholy, moody, pessimistic and sensitive. My early personality and character can be attributed, I think, to two important facts: I am an only child, and I grew up during the depression. The major events which most helped to revise my thinking during those twenty years were: six years in the Coast Guard, my subsequent marriage, and the discovery that life is not futile.

Traveling and uprooting have always been part of my life, six years being the longest period I have spent in one location. This occurred in Vienna from the day I was born until the age of six.

By the time I migrated to New York City, my mother and father had divorced and my mother had remarried. The depression and all that went with it were now in full swing.

We moved to various neighborhoods in order for my step-father to be close to wherever his job was located. These jobs did not last very long, and one year in one locale seemed like a lifetime to me.

When we moved into a new neighborhood I would always make new friends, as children very easily do. When these friends became dear to me, it was time to move on again. This process was frequently repeated until finally, in my early teens, we settled somewhat permanently in one neighborhood. Most of the houses we lived in were rat-infested, and the neighborhoods violent and crime-ridden.

By this time I was a very lonely, brooding and unhappy child. I kept to myself and was not very talkative. My thinking and conception of life began to take on a more serious and mature outlook. What was I going to be? Could I afford to ever get married? To have children was unthought-of! Would I be able to take care of my parents should the need arise? I over-burdened myself with needless and complicated worries. At thirteen I was an old man.

By the time I reached high school I was working fifty to sixty hours a week, supporting myself, and was more or less completely on my own. Surprisingly, my marks were always good in my school years. I quit high school after two years, not because I had to or didn’t like school, but because I saw no future in continuing. The plight of college graduates who were lucky to find jobs as taxi drivers made me feel that higher education was a waste of time and money. With proper incentive, I know I would have finished high school and worked my way through college.

"Lhasa Apso" - photograph by R.B. (Two Sons)

Not all my youth was spent in drudgery. There also were some happy moments. The dreariness of my youth only magnified and exaggerated the few bright spots. Although the times made us hard, we were still boys and had our own peculiar sources of pleasure. In the summer, we used to sneak into the subway to go to Central Park and swim naked in the lake. This was sure to incur the wrath of the police and shock the park strollers. Another of our “private beaches” would be one of the piers along the Hudson River. Here we would swim or try our hand at fishing, using a bent pin and some thread as our tackle.

From these amusements, we graduated to the bigger thrill of an evening stroll up Riverside Drive near Grant’s Tomb, trying to pick up girls; or we would play “ring-a-levio”, chasing each other across roof-tops, too young to be cognizant of the dangers involved.

In the winter, we built bon-fires on the curbs to roast the potatoes we had “borrowed” from the local grocer. When they were almost cooked, one of us would be delegated to beg for some butter and salt from the grocer whose stock we had depleted. A food snowfall was the silent signal for a round-up of garbage can lids which became our sleds. We always chose the steepest hill in the area, timing our descent so the traffic lights were in our favor.

Untitled Oil, by M.M. (Two Daughters, and a Son)

On very cold nights we would sneak into the movies. We would wait for the latest show to end and then walk in backwards as the throng was coming out of the lobby. Another ruse was for one of us to purchase a ticket, enter the theater, open one of the numerous exit doors and let the rest of us into the theater. These maneuvers would be planned as thoroughly as a military operation, and the thrill of getting something for nothing was better than the movie which we had usually seen before.

Any occasion that called for a gift meant a quick trip to the local five and dime for some petty shoplifting.

Perhaps I was guilty of self-pity or used the depression as a scapegoat, but it was not easy to feel gay and optimistic in the bitter atmosphere and dismal outlook that prevailed in that era. There was nothing to look forward to; the end of the depression was nowhere in sight. To plod along, do the best that you can, try to hold on to your job, and get along with what you have was the norm of the day.

The depression had become an integrated and permanent part of my character molding.

Just before Pearl Harbor, while I was working in Providence, Rhode Island, my step-father bought a lovely house on Long Island. A month after Pearl Harbor I enlisted in the Coast Guard. During my six year tour of duty I traveled extensively and saw some action in the Pacific.

Meeting and mingling with different people, of foreign lands as well as the various parts of the United States, provided me with an interesting insight into human beings. I learned to accept them for what they are, to get along with them, to tolerate their creeds, and – at times – to agree with their ideologies.

Many an exciting and mentally exhilarating evening was spent over whiskey discussing and debating religion, art, politics, music, the war, sex, and life in general. My understanding and feeling for these people with their multitude of opinions became mellowed and sympathetic.

The reading I had done as a boy was nothing compared to the wealth of knowledge obtained from the countless hours of reading in the service. I discovered books and authors of whom I was previously unaware or had disregarded completely.

While in the service I taught myself Morse code, basic radio theory and the necessary mathematics, after which I qualified for a rating of Radioman 3 rd Class. My ambition was to become a commercial radio operator. I began to have some ambitions and planned to go to a technical school. I had often thought of the day I would leave the service with fear and doubt, but now I was beginning to look forward to the opportunity of making something of myself.

Immediately upon leaving the service, I enrolled at RCA Institutes to study electronics. Although I could have enrolled in college, we were at the beginning of a recession and I felt the technical school would be more to my advantage. Perhaps this was a fateful decision, for here I met my best friend. I spent two of the best years of my life going through school with him, only to lose him shortly after graduation, when he fell to his death while installing a television antenna.

A year later, I married his widow. We were blessed with four sons in our marriage. Not only has my wife made me very happy, but she has been a good influence on me. She is devoted, tender, understanding, dependable, and clear thinking. She loves children and, fortunately, has the patience needed for their upbringing. She is raising our four sons with a soft heart and a heavy hand. When I feel dejected she is there, ready with solace, comfort and encouragement. Of course, we have our share of the usual quarrels that befall most married couples.

Where I am not religious, she is deeply so – not in a fanatical or hypocritical sense, but with a sincere faith and devotion. Because I consider her an intrinsic worshipper, I often defend her religion, although it differs from my own agnostic opinions.

My present job is what I have always wanted. It is interesting, secure, and affords an opportunity to continue my schooling and to increase my proficiency. The subsequent promotions and raises have obliterated the doubts I had of my capabilities.

All these things – my family, home, occupation, and schooling – make me feel wonderfully rich beyond any dreams I had in my youth.

Perhaps the only outlook left from the overpowering impact of the depression is the urge to save every cent I can for a “rainy day.” I argue with myself that it is silly to think so morbidly of the future and I always agree; however, the feeling is still strong with me.

One good that has come out of this era is that I know what it is to be poor. Having had nothing before, everything I achieve is “gravy” to me. I cannot lose. If things should again go bad economically, I know I would still be happy and contented, for we have the ingredients of happiness – love, understanding, health, kindness and unselfishness.

Instead of eating life from the bowl of sour cherries, I am finally tasting some of the sweet fruit and even a bit of the cream.

"Broad-billed Tody" - Watercolor, by G.D. (A Daughter, and a Son)