Fifth section
What a LifeWe sailed about midnight, but crept out so quietly
that I heard nothing. But perhaps the tiring day we had had was responsible for
this. I would have liked to have sailed out through that part of the Inland
Sea in daylight, but by the time I was awakened by the rolling ship we were
well clear. We woke up to the roughest day the ship had had for two voyages,
we were told, but we both felt fin and enjoyed a good breakfast. It was nice
having the steward bring in early morning tea at 6.45. There was more deck
space. As we expected to be on board for a month, this was an advantage. I could not but help comparing this trip in luxury
to that on the Haiwaian Maru, which I had left with so many dad and dying
troops lying in the filth, and also comparing the kindly, friendly Japanese I
had just left compared with the sadistic hooligans in charge of the P.O.W.
camps. It was all too strange. We passed Formosa, there the Hawaian Maru had
put in, and the sea became quite calm. We woke up on the fourth day to find we were
steaming into Hong Kong harbour; really a pretty sight in the morning light.
The tall rise buildings soon showed up on both the island and the Kowloon
sides, and we were tied to our buoy for breakfast. This is where we got the advantage of being on a
large cargo boat, as the stops we made gave us lots of time to see places;
unlike the fast passenger boats which hop in and out. We had two full days
ashore, in which time se saw quite a lot of the place. WE were soon ashore, and engulfed in the crowded
streets. The shops were full of everything at fantastically low prices. The first must; a ride to the top of the Peak by
cable car, after a visit to the Pose Office to get rid of a pile of mail we
had written on the way. The Peak rises 1,800 feet right above the town,
and from it one gets a splendid view of it, the harbour and Kowloon. At
night, the lighted hotels and buildings rising up its side make an
unforgettable picture. After a meal at a Chinese restaurant, which was
crowded, we took a bus trip to Aberdeen, the amazing floating 'town'. Here,
everything is floating. Large families live on small boats. Schools, temples,
restaurants and what have you are all afloat. On the way we had made a call at Arthur and Hedi
Hintons, but the were out. We left a note saying we would call again. He was
a headmaster there. Here was a chance to get my hair cut. Seeing a
hairdressers, we went to it, but it turned out to be a beauty parlour. A
notice on the door said "Gentlemen are not entertainment". I think
that beats the band for pidgin English. However, we soon found a place, and I
got trimmed up. We were able to catch Arthur Hinton next morning,
and got the full impact of what the terrible water shortage was meaning
there. The water was on for two hours every fourth day, and he was living in
a spacious luxury flat. We missed his wife again, as she was a nurse on duty.
We got an interesting account of his school in Kowloon, where he had been
some few years. I bought two terylene shirts for a pound, and a
suit of silk pyjamas for a pound. I noticed that everything in the radio and
electrical lines was ridiculously cheap. But since there are heavy duties on
these it is not very advantageous to buy them. As we ran south, we got into lovely tropical
weather. We all got into shorts and tropical clothing. A large canvas
plunging bath was fixed up, in which we spent much time. We ploughed through
shoals of flying fish which sprang out of the water and glided, glistening in
the sunshine. It was three days to Singapore, where we were to
have three days. I had a nephew there in the R.A.F. with his wife and family
to whom I had written. Sure enough, as we pulled into the dockside Marion was
there with one of the children. As soon as we could get off, we were away
with her to their rented house Seletar way, where he was serving. We were in
time for lunch, and to see Raymond from work. We stayed with them for two nights. Raymond got the next day off, and we drove around
the sights we had known so well, but we found things altered beyond
recognition. The Botanical Gardens were the same, but our house, where we had
spent such a lovely time, was a shambles, and ready to come down. Where was
our lovely piano, and the book of Beethoven sonatas I had looked upon as I
walked out for the last time that sad day 20 years before? Orchard Road,
which had been all open, was now built up with hotels, shops, cinemas etc.,
and was no longer the Orchard Road we had known. It was the same all over the
island, with big housing estates and high rise flats going up everywhere. We
went to Changi, where I had spent the time between the two boats from
Surabaya to Japan, and saw the beautifully kept cemetery where so many were
buried, but I could hardly recognise anything. I went to Seletar, where
Raymond was stationed, and searched where I thought I had buried the keys to
my two secret document safes, but I could not find them. It was all so different.
I was glad to get away, as those last few horrible days there were printed on
my mind. Our next stop was Port Swetenham, where, owing to
the difficulty in getting any work done, we were to remain for three days. I wrote
at the time that I began to wonder whether the creeping paralysis which is
strangling all activities in these ports will eventually stop all trade. As
trade is still going on, obviously it was not stopped. Going ashore, we took a bus to Kuala Lumpur,
although we knew there was not much of interest to us. After a walk round, we
returned to the Mariner's Club at Port Swetenham, which had a fine swimming
pool. It was only a night's trip to Penang, which we
knew, and which had not altered much. We took the able car up the 2,300 foot
hill for a cool walk round, and to admire the view. We looked in at the snake
temple again, then back to the boat, since we were only there for the day. We arrived at Columbo at a very unhappy time.
Strikes, riots and chaos seemed to be the order of the day. We could not go
ashore as we were at a buoy in the harbour. Besides, since it was dangerous
ashore, there were no boats or launches on which to get there. Our table
mate, Miss Black, got off here to buy gems before going on to finish a
holiday in France and Scotland. An amazingly well read female, able to talk
on every subject under the sun, she ran a small business in Hong Kong after
having lived many years in China, particularly Peking. Another lady passenger, who had just come aboard,
joined us at our table. She was going home, after 20 years there, to be
married. It sounded strange to hear a grey haired, middle aged woman speak
about her fiancé, boyfriend, etc. Another Christmas on the boat. Strangely enough,
it was near where I had spent Christmas 1926 on the Derbyshire on my way back
to Baghdad. We were about half way between Columbo and Aden, but going the
other way. We started the day at 7.30 with a dip in the pool. I had got the 9 lessons service the evening before
at 7.30 as we were that much ahead of London time. We had time enough in Aden for a run up to Crater
and to mix with the complete bedlam of Arabia which was always a feature of
the place. Here again, large open spaces that I had known were now built up
shopping and living areas. The bringing of piped water had made a terrific
difference to the place. Of all the places we had seen after America, this
was the only place with unlimited water. In Tokyo it was off at 10 p.m. until
8 a.m. In Hong Kong, on for two hours every fourth day. Singapore, off from 8
a.m. until 8 p.m. The area around the bay, which was pure desert, is
now accommodating wireless stations, barracks, and the huge oil refinery area
of Little Aden. And so up the Red Sea again, which we entered in heat,
and noticed getting cooler as we proceeded north, until at Suez we were
sleeping under blankets. At that time, there were three convoys a day through
the canal, one northbound and two southbound. The convoy entered the canal
with ships at ten minute intervals. We made a stop in the Bitter Lakes, which
was not unusual. A huge tanker ran aground. As there was trouble getting it
off, we left it behind. The part I always found interesting, between Lake
Timsah and Port Said, was done at night, so we did not see much of it. I did
wake about 2 a.m. when the lights of Port Said were going past, and the long
breakwater I had walked along with Enid M the evening she returned to Egypt
and me. We made no more stops, and arrived Liverpool 8th
January 1964, after a wonderful time which had lasted just over four months,
during which we had seen enough to cover volumes in print should it be
written up. For long afterwards, we found ourselves in demand
to share with others some of the lovely times we had, especially Women's
Institutes, where our experiences in Japan went very well. Sometimes it was
two or three nights a week, and I was not sorry when things cooled off a bit.
I brought home a good selection of transparencies of most of the places we
saw, some of which it is nice to run through to recall places. Margery, who, as I have mentioned, married Derek
Hyde, who was to get the Senior Lecturer's job at Nonington College of
Physical Education. They were settled at Cop Street near Ash, Canterbury. After Grandpa Jones died, I thought it would be a
good idea to live nearer to them. A property next door to them had come on
the market. It was very suitable for us; a two bedroomed bungalow with a
large garden. I suggested to Margery that I buy it so as to be nearer to her.
She thought it a marvellous idea. I bought it, and we moved in the spring of
1962. We were well settled before we went on the world trip. It was strange
coming back to within four miles of Sandwich where I had spent my childhood.
I had only made short return visits since joining the army in the first war.
I found a few old cronies still there, with whom it was nice to become
reacquainted. I soon got entangled with the choral societies.
For a few years I sang with Canterbury, Deal, Sandwich and Dover, besides
helping our village and small madrigal parties. I always found the concerts
in Canterbury Cathedral thrilling. For the first few years we did the S.
Matthew Passion at Eastertide. This always filled the cathedral, as did most
of the performances. It was unusual to come up against something I had
not done, but this was to happen with Britten's War Requiem, which I don't
think I had ever heard. This was with Canterbury. The only enjoyment I got
from it was to be next to two B.B.C. tenors who came to help us out. I am not
surprised that it is rarely done, but no doubt in a couple of hundred years
it will be top of the bill. Although I spent hours at the piano drumming into
my head some of the difficult passages of the War Requiem, and at the
performance had a jolly good idea of it, not one note of it ever comes back
into my mind, as do passages of Bach, Verdi, Handel, Brahms, Stainer and
others whose music I have got pleasure from singing. 2nd American Trip 1964. We had hardly got back from visiting Louverne and
Charbonnieres when Ivor suggested we go and spend Christmas with them as he
could arrange a charter flight for us through a Santa Monica club. This would
give us a month with them. We fell for this right away, even though it meant
flying, and he made the arrangements. But not long before we were due to go,
Ivor got inveigled with Motorola in Phoenix, Arizona, and moved there. It
seems that, at this time, he could have gone anywhere. He was receiving
requests from all over the place from firms who would like to have him. This suited us fine, and I was keen to do the
trip. As we did not intend to do too much travelling, the necessity of going
Greyhound did not arise. We left I see we flew at 37,000 feet, an impossible height
50 years ago, so we saw little except the tops of clouds in bright sunshine.
Through a break in the cloud it was wonderful to see practically the whole of
Southern Ireland as if looking at a map. Right from the start, charming Indian girl
hostesses kept us supplied with eats and drinks. The marvellous lunch
produced - hot chicken etc., egg salad, fruit and cream with a bottle of good
white wine - brought us right up to date with modern flying. We had left Heathrow at 1300 and arrived New York
at 1400 New York time. We had a two hour break before getting on a C.L.44 of
Flying Tiger Air Line. This machine had four Rolls Royce turbojet propeller
engines. As our booking was to Los Angeles and back, we had
to go to Los Angeles non-stop. Owing to head winds and delays, we were two and a
half hours late in L.A. and we missed our connection to Phoenix. We had now
been on the way for 21 hours and we were tired. Although it was 2 a.m., we
managed to get a bed at a motel. It was very easy to ring Ivor and let him know
what had happened, and to give him the time of our arrival on the morrow. The trip to Phoenix in an extremely well fitted
707 of Continental Airways only took 45 minutes, and we found the whole
excited family there to meet us. Again, we found the house quite aristocratic as
compared with English standards. As the 400 mile plus journey was only £8
each it is no wonder that we saw derelict railways and stations being
dismantled all over the place. We were glad to get out of our winter woollies,
in which we had left England, and get into cotton. But in a couple of days we were to experience some
very freak weather for Arizona as, on Ivor's birthday Dec 19th, we
woke to a thick fog. The temperature outside had dropped to 50 degrees, and the
central heating was started. This worked from a central gas heater. Warm air
was blown via ducts to all parts of the house. I am so glad I was given this opportunity to see
Arizona. It changed so many of my ideas about America. One hears so much
about it being a new country, so it was good and refreshing to find so many
ancient monuments and history. It was as far removed from the eastern fringe
of America as England was from America. In the same way as the dry, frost-free atmosphere
of Egypt has helped to preserve the relics of its ancient civilization,
perhaps the dry climate of Arizona has something to do with preserving the
buildings of peoples who have long deserted the country. One our first Sunday, we went to the Quaker
Meeting in Phoenix. It was a fine Meeting House. The whole of one side was
glassed in, looking out upon Camelback Mountain; a fine view to gaze upon as
one meditated. Barry Goldwater was headline news. We were run up
to his house and the district of posh houses which he was keeping very
select. For coolness, all large buildings, schools and
offices only have windows on the north side, the south, sunny side being
blanked in. On this first Sunday, we did quite a lot. In the
afternoon we continued to the Coronado School Theatre for Motorola's children
party. I was amazed at the whole school setup; palatial classrooms and
equipment of a high standard. Classrooms fitted with headphones per pupil so
that instruction in 4 subjects could be given at the same time from control
desks. Next day, we were invited to a party at one of the
university lecturer's houses. I ran into something I had never struck before.
It was a toffee pulling party. We went into the kitchen and grabbed big
chunks of freshly made toffee. We proceeded to pull and stretch it just as
the machines we used to see in shop windows did when we were kids. This
improves the toffee. I don't know why, but it was good fun. We sang carols
and folk songs, which were mostly Negro spirituals. The hymn books contain
quite a number of these. Getting around Phoenix, one drives across what was
the Salt River. This is now completely dry. All the water is diverted into
irrigation canals and domestic supplies. Some of the large bridges which
spanned it still stand. It is said that the time is coming when all American
rivers will be like this. None will reach the sea; horrible thought. Shopping was interesting; especially buying
oranges and grapefruit by the small sack. We all decided to go up to the Grand Canyon for
Christmas, as we wanted to do it again. We went up via Oak Creek Canyon. Then we climbed a
few thousand feet up to the ice and snow of the Flagstaff heights. The road
was clear, so it was all plain sailing. We made a detour to take in Montezuma
Castle, one of the national monuments of historic value. It is an ancient
cliff dwelling in a good state of preservation. It has no connection with the
Aztec emperor whose name it bears. It was named by the early settlers, who
believed it had been built by Aztec refugees. Much is being done to unravel
the history of these people, now disappeared. As a defence, it was first
class. The only way up to it is by a series of ladders. I had not been feeling too well when we left
Phoenix. By the time we reached the Canyon, just as it was getting dark, I was
running a bit of a fever. I had a rotten headache, so I went straight to bed.
This was a how d'you do, for a Christmas holiday miles from home. But next
day, Christmas, I felt much better, and did some of the sights with the
others. It seemed strange, looking down into the canyon where it was
obviously warm, from our snow covered situation. I managed to enjoy a special
dinner of turkey, or goose, which was laid on. Freda had brought the kids'
presents, and we listened to the fun and games going on in their room before
it was light. On Boxing Day I was not feeling too bright, so we
thought it advisable to cut things short and get back home to Phoenix. We had
a good stop at Desert View for a last long look at the Canyon. From there we
went via Cameran, a road running within sight of the Little Colorado River
Gorge which, if it were not for the proximity of Grand Canyon, would itself
be a Grand Canyon. This road took us through the Indian Reservations, with
their very humble dwellings in very barren country. We made a detour to look
see Wupatki National Monument. Here are the remains of Indian buildings and a
citadel which have been derelict for hundreds of years. We also passed through Sunset Crater, another
Monument, with its amazing heaped up masses of lava; a most gruesome sight. In Arizona one realises that Spanish was the
number one language at one time. All the old monuments have Spanish names;
Pueblo Grande (Big Town); Casa Grande (Big House), etc. At Pueblo Grande are the ruins of an Indian
settlement which flourished about 1,200 A.D., where there is a very
interesting museum of their arts and crafts. Excavations have unearthed ruins
of their houses, and remains of irrigation systems can be seen. Casa Grande is a four story tower of packed earth,
built about 600 years ago by Indian farmers in the Gila valley. It is the
only surviving example of such a structure. It is 56 miles south of Phoenix.
Excavations have shown that the area was flourishing thousands of years ago.
It was discovered by a Jesuit missionary, Father Kino, in 1694. He gave it
the name it is known by. It was in ruins even then. On the way, just on the edge of Phoenix, we passed
the enormous stock pen area with thousands of cattle. I notice that most were
Herefords, although there were a few humped Indian cattle too. At time, the
smell from the stock pens is so bad over the whole city that windows and
doors have to be kept closed. Even then, the smell permeates everywhere. We were having a lot of rain, which is very
unusual for Arizona. It was raining as I went with Freda to do the shopping
for New Year's dinner. We got a 16 pound plus turkey for £2.65, a supply of
meat for the deep freeze, oxtail at 1/5
pound, sheep kidneys 1/-
pound, steak 5/- pound, eggs
3/6 doz., margarine 1/- pound. Some
of this would have been dearer in England, especially the big turkey. Would we go across the road and have coffee with
Ann? We did, and learned that she had three small children, had had SEVEN
pregnancies in FIVE years. So, to put a stop to it, her husband had the
'operation', which seemed very fashionable hereabouts!! They were Mormons,
some of many thereabouts. In the evening I was invited to go with Ivor to a
New Year's party of Motorola engineers, the hostess being one of the lady
engineers. It was a rum affair. I did not find it easy to make conversation
with anybody. I did get going with two ardent Goldwater fans, who believed
that under Johnston the U.S.A. was heading for complete disaster. One of them
started talking to me about Kipling; did I know any? When I started on
"By the old Mulmein pagoda looking eastward to the sea" etc. etc.,
they all went crazy. I had to keep on with Gunga Din and all the other stuff
we learned as kids. They lapped it up like a crowd of young army recruits. At
about 1 a.m. I thought I had had enough. With Ivor, I tendered my thanks for
a nice party. On the way to the door I thanked the hostess again, and she
said; "It's been wonderful having you. YOU SOUND SO CIVILISED". I
almost fell out of the door, and said to Ivor; "Gosh, did you hear
that?" He just replied; "Yes! And so you do". What sort of a
chip have these people got on their shoulders to think of us like that? Although it was a late evening party, most of the
men were in scruff order. As a matter of fact, scruff order is the order of
the day. If you enter one large restaurant with a tie on, the waiter grabs
it, snips it off, and hangs it up on the wall, where they hang in rows. Qujite near Ivor's was the Papago Golf Club. It
was completely floodlit, enabling play at night. I did not play, but one day
I walked round with a 79 year old retired maths master I had met from
Michigan. His wife was carrying for him. He played with two balls, to double
the amount of game he got in one round. Like many others we met, he had a
house in the north for the summer, and a house down here for the winter; a
jolly good idea, if one has the money. Phoenix has a completely roofed over air
conditioned shopping area in which are both high and low priced stores of all
sorts; also restaurants. Being all closed in, there is no need for shop
doors, so everywhere is open to the street, where beautiful fountains please
the eye. A most refreshing place to get into on a hot day, as so many days
are in Phoenix. A good outing from Phoenix is to South Mountain
Park. It is an area of over 14,000 acres. From its heights one overlooks the
whole of Phoenix and the hills beyond. Visitors are warned to watch out for
centipedes, scorpions, tarantulas, rattlesnakes and gila monsters, whatever
they might be. Here, as in Papago Park, one sees almost all the varieties of
Arizona cactus, from the giant Saguaro, which is seen everywhere, to the
small types we have. Ancient Indian picture writings may be seen in many of
the interesting canyons in South Mountain Park. Although it is not high, some
two to three thousand feet, we found a cold wind biting through our cotton
clothing, and were glad to get down to the warmth of Phoenix. If in Phoenix for any time, a must is to do the
trip up through the Tonto National Forest, with its lakes and wonderful
mountain scenery, via the Apache Trail. Soon after leaving Phoenix
Superstition Mountain, the scene of one of the early gold rushes, and about
which a lot of queer stories have come forth, is passed, and a climb is started
on an unpaved road. After climbing some distance, a nerve-wracking drop is
made by hairpin bends down to the bottom of Fish Creek and the Canyon Lake.
This is the second of the series of dammed lakes on the route. Out came the
food box, and we had lunch. Freda's picnic box was a marvellous affair, with
its ice chambers and what have you. Although it would be an awkward thing to
cart around in our small cars, it took up little space in Ivor's big Chev. After Canyon Lake, the long mountain drive past Apache
Lake with its dam and power house. Large boards inform one of the amount of
water in these lakes, which is given in acre feet. As Apache must be 20 miles
in length, it would take a lot of noughts to give the quantity in gallons.
One acre foot is an acre of water one foot deep. The Roosevelt Dam, towards which we were climbing,
had been in view for long stretches as we came up the 20 mile length of the
Apache Lake Gorge. It was quite a picture with its power house low at the
bottom of the dam. Then the final run up to the enormous dam, which holds
back the Roosevelt Lake, which I suppose is too big to measure in acre feet. There are so many highlights on this part of the
Apache Trail that it is difficult not to keep stopping to digest them. But we
still had a long way to go. From Roosevelt we struck a fast paved road and
were able to get on at 50 or 60 mph. We were soon passing the mining town of
Miami, where ugly slag heaps of enormous size have developed over the years.
Again more beautiful scenery where, even high up, the giant saguaro cacti are
prolific. One cannot get away from them over the whole of Arizona. We made a stop at Mesa to visit the magnificent
Mormon Temple in its lovely gardened grounds. It was impossible to see inside
the temple, which was tightly shut. We were told that only the higher ranking
members were allowed it. The rank and file never see inside. To be married in
it necessitates an exalted position among the hierarchy. Being married there
is for eternity, and not for life only! Our next Quaker Meeting was followed by a very
good lunch. It is a monthly event here in the Meeting House, so that people
who come some distance to the Meeting can have a good get-together. Then, the
weather being agreeable, into Phoenix and to Encanto Park, which really is a
park according to our standards, with luscious grass, lakes and trees. On a
fine coolish Sunday, crowds are attracted to this spot. The nearby picture
gallery, which is well laid out, is worth a look see, as is the attached
exhibition of various style European rooms of different periods. Scottsdale, which is struggling to retain its wild
west atmosphere, but which it is obviously losing, is almost engulfed in the
greater Phoenix area, as are both Mesa and Tempe. Expecting some fun, we
joined an escorted tour of the Mesa Mormon Temple grounds. It was really
worth it. It struck me as being a subtle chunk of Mormon propaganda. None the
less, it was good fun, and interesting. The grounds are beautifully kept;
very refreshing after the desert surrounds. During the beginning of January we had much rain,
which was unusual. I hoped to see the desert sprout green, as the Arabian
desert does after rain. There was much to see on a long run south. With a
fine day breaking, we started for Tucson with the food box well full. There was much of interest to be seen on
the way, but the best was when we left the main road and took an unpaved
track through miles of the National Saguaro Forest to the Arizona-Sonora Desert
Museum. This stretches over a large area. One can see almost everything
connected with the desert; a most interesting and educational place to visit.
In a few miles we came to the 'Old Tucson' movie set. This is a complete Wild
West movie town, which we have all seen in wild west films. Nobody lives
there permanently. The surrounding hilly country has been made all too
familiar over the years due to the number of films churned out here. It was
nice to really see it. We thought Tucson a pleasant place, but it was
helped by not being a hot day. We had a good look see at the buildings and
grounds of the University of Arizona, which were spacious and inviting. It
certainly had an atmosphere about it. Unlike the California freeways, there
was no speed limit here, and I found driving the big Chev at 70 on the wide
empty desert a piece of cake. We were soon back in Phoenix. We came to our last Sunday. Off we went to Quaker
Meeting to say goodbye to the many good friends we had made, and with whom we
had enjoyed many parties. Most of them enjoyed the high standard of living so
common in the U.S.A., but there was one unemployed man to whom we had spoken
before. He gave us a very grim picture of conditions among the thousands of
unemployed. Just before Christmas, I had been surprised to see appeals in the
papers for contributions to a fund to supply Christmas dinners to the poor,
so that no one in Phoenix would go dinnerless on Christmas Day. In this land
of such apparent plenty, it all seemed very strange. We were due to leave Los Angeles on January 17th.
We wanted to do a few things there, and to stop at Palm Springs on the way.
So we all piled into the Chev with a loaded food box, and got away from
Phoenix on the 14th. We made good going across the desert to the
Arizona - California border, where the customs people searched us to make
sure we were taking no fruit or plants across. On our previous passings, we
had noticed that these restrictions were very strict. Here, we crossed the
Colorado River. On its bank we had our picnic lunch in pleasant sunshine.
Here, the town of Blythe is the start of a 75 mile trip across the Mojave
Desert before the divided highway is reached some 25 miles short of Palm
Springs. Having got rooms at a morel, we had time to see this millionaire's
paradise, and get a taste of the extreme wealth for which Palm Springs is
famous. We were shown into the grounds of a seven acre estate with apartments
which rented for 1,000 to 1,500 dollars per month. Nearby was a house which
had cost 130,000 dollars, and which was used for only a few weeks each year.
The many golf courses, for which Palm Springs is mainly known, were luscious
for a spot so near to the desert. No one walked. All the players had motor
buggies. Palm Springs is only 100 miles from L.A., so we made
a detour into the San Bernardino Mountains as far as Lake Arrowhead. There
was a lot of snow, but the road was clear. This was wonderful mountain
scenery again, but we had left the saguaro cactus in Arizona. It is on these runs that one appreciates the enormous
built up area of Los Angeles. The freeway from Redlands for about 60 miles is
through built up country. Although by now it was not new, I still found it
most impressive to be streaming along on a freeway again with the amazing
interchange flyovers. We had all the next day to visit old friends and
look around. We went along to Alsace Avenue, where we saw how near to Ivor's
house the floodwater came from the burst Baldwin Hills dam. We saw the small
gorge the water had made as it swept dopwn, sweeping away houses and everything
in its path. We went up to the dam itself, to see the gaping hole and empty
reservoir. The authorities were still arguing about it. We went to Santa
Monica for a last look at the Pacific, and for tea with the Murray Shaws,
whom we had got to know well before. We left L.A. at 8.30 in a big C.L.44. We had a
marvellous view of the Grand Canyon as we flew over it. We also saw the snow
covered Rockies, a glorious sight. From the Midwest onwards, the whole
country looked frozen up. It was bitterly cold at New York airport, where we
arrived as it was getting dark, it was bitterly cold, with heaps of snow
about. We changed to the 707, and took off at 8.30 p.m. , landing in London
at 8 a.m. to find the weather mild. IN Los Angeles we had had to dress in the heat in
our winter clothes, which was uncomfortable until we took off. We were glad
to have done so when we landed in New York, where it was several degrees
below. This loos like being the end of our wanderings in
America. Ivor left Phoenix to join a firm in Connecticut, where he did not
stay long. Sick of industrial cut-throatism, he returned to England. In his
book The Catt Concept,
published in America by Putnam and in England by Hart-Davis, , he has tried
to give some idea of the jiggery pokery which exists in the industrial world
of America. All the industrial nations have published the book. It is now
obtainable in French, German, Italian and even Japan. No doubt all peoples,
more or less, are getting in the same mess. …. [Typed by Ivor Catt on
5/6oct02] |
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