Chapter Two: Trip to Baltimore

With our meager furniture and clothes  packed in boxes and stored in an attached rented trailer, Elaine and I and Schatzie, our Parakeet set out on the 400 mile trip from Massachusetts to that magically sounding city of Baltimore, Maryland, and to work at the Social Security Administration.

I was very ignorant about Baltimore.  I seemed to recall that two of my heroes had some kind of connection with that city.  H. L. Mencken and Edgar Allen Poe.  I also had some interesting adventures in Europe with a fellow Airman named Willie, who grew up in what he called the Baltimore Ghetto.

My wife, Elaine likes to tell the story that she and her  mother had gotten their palms read in 1954 by a Gypsy encamped across from their church.  The Gypsy lady told Elaine's mother that a few years from now, she would be visiting a city named Baltimore to see her new-born granddaughter.  At the time, they knew that the Gypsy was making it up.  (But, of course, it came true seven years later.)

After some minor car problems we broke down in Delaware and had to get help from a fellow traveler.  Once on the road again we survived a flat tire and finally rattled across the Mason Dixon line and limped into the outskirts of Baltimore.   We took shelter at a cinder block truck stop.

We had been told by Elaine's uncle that it was always hot in Maryland and we would not need warm clothes.  We did not  take any coats. So, we and our bird spent a lot of shivering time as snow flakes eased in through cracks in the cinder block walls.

I was able to use the room's telephone and a copy of the Baltimore Sun to pinpoint a prospective place to live.  The first call turned out well.  The owner said that others were interested, but if we wanted to, we could come and take a look at the offering.  (I suspect that we were the only persons interested and our visit was to make sure that we were white.  Were the times different then?)

The apartment was exactly what we were looking for and the price was right.  We sealed the deal and then limped out to the nearest Ford dealership to get our car fixed.  In it's present condition, we would have been restricted to public transportation, which didn't look too promising to me.

The Ford dealer was wonderful.  He gave us a "loaner" to use while he fixed our car.  He had no idea who we were, but when I told him I was going to work for Social Security, he bent over backwards to be nice to us.    (Len Stoler?... ??)

We moved out of the motel and into our spacious and clean apartment.   Life was good.