First Liberty

Well into our second month of training and shortly before payday, we merited a surprise weekend liberty. That meant we’d ride the El and the subway in to Manhattan, where most of the business of New York City is carried out, where the famous stores are, where a world of entertainment doesn’t stand still, and where more sights waited for us. We received strict warning that we had to be back at barracks by midnight or we’d lose our glass slippers. Also, for our own safety, we should not go to Greenwich Village, a famous bohemian-type colony for the arts, long before the day of the hippies. Hamburger Heaven was highly recommended as a place to eat, and on our $54 a month, we couldn’t afford the 21 Club. After viewing the city from the 72nd floor of the Empire State Building, we decided on an early lunch because of our afternoon plans, and headed for Hamburger Heaven, across the street from, if I remember correctly, Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

HH had no menus—perhaps because of a wartime paper shortage—and it certainly had no blackboard on the wall, sending chalk dust over the food. Perhaps it had a flyer in a front window but we never saw it. So we played it safe and ordered ordinary hamburgers. We got no check, but left a tip, and went on to the cashier to pay and told her what we’d had to eat. Alas! We lacked fifteen cents having enough to cover the cost and we could not retrieve the tip, if we'd tried. The place moved too fast for that; it was packed. When the huffy lady said, “Well, you’ll just have to wash dishes!” I began unbuttoning my jacket, and said, “Well, I know how to do that.” My two companions stood there doing nothing. I wonder if they would have deserted me, if I had gone to the kitchen. Of course, washing dishes in a restaurant was surely against Navy regulations, for even a mere apprentice seaman should manage personal finances better. The surprise liberty had caught us short just before payday.

Just as I got my jacket off, two well-dressed little old ladies realized what was happening. From their front-row booth in the huge place, one asked, “Darlings, don’t you have enough money to pay your bill?” I told them we lacked fifteen cents. They immediately produced the needed amount and I offered to repay them through the mail. No, it was all for the cause, they said. We thanked them, paid our bill, I put on my jacket, and we headed out to see what free goodies we could find. As we wended our way free to Staten Island to visit Miss Liberty, I thought about my companions and decided they were not officer material. I also realized why this special weekend had not come right after payday. We would have squandered all our pay and had none for two whole weeks. And so we climbed to the head of the Statue of Liberty. Free.

The Statue has two staircases in it, one curling up and one curling down right beside it. A steady stream of visitors filled both. On about my third step upwards a hand reached over from the other staircase and took my hat from my head. I had just enough time to verify the hand belonged to a sailor before he was out of sight, but I could not turn around to go after the necessary hat. I was out of uniform in a public place and felt just terrible enough not to enjoy the view from the head of the Statue. I didn’t know if I would ever see my hat again. But I did. The sailor waited for me, gave me my hat, knew my name from the hat’s nametag, and invited me to dinner. I thanked him, told him no, and that I was with two others. Inviting the three of us seemed not to be his idea of a good time. Nor mine. Now that I think of it, it was strange that he was alone. Service people on liberty in those days in New York were generally in groups of three or more persons.

This weekend is not over yet. To be continued.

♥