Life in USA
1971 - 1974 United States of America
Life as New Immigrants. Many tears were shed as our family waved goodbye when we boarded our flight to New York on January 17th, 1971. It was our first time on an airplane—quite an intense feeling. We were holding each other's hands. My heart pounded faster as the jet picked up speed on the runway. But we soon relaxed as the flight attendant served us a drink and snack. Our first flight was a very long one.
Landing on a new continent with only one travel bag and a suitcase each, plus $700 in cash, felt a little outside our comfort zone. JFK airport was huge compared to Zurich. We didn't know enough English to ask where to go and followed the other passengers. Then we saw a large prominent sign which warmed our hearts "Welcome to the United States of America." After that, a nice officer processed our passports and immigration papers and directed us to customs. It was an incredible feeling after we got through everything and navigated our way toward the exit of the crowded International arrival building with our luggage.
Once outside, we stood in line for a taxi. A cold wind was blowing. My employer had reserved a room for us at the Wellington Hotel. The taxi driver that drove us to Manhattan was a maniac, weaving in and out of lanes without blinking, passing cars on the left and right. Being used to disciplined, safe driving in Switzerland, we were slightly scared. But the array of multi-lane highways with overpasses and the number of huge automobiles was quite impressive to see. Welcome to New York traffic! Then I remember us crossing the Triborough Bridge and catching a glimpse of Manhattan for the first time. It was so amazing! Seeing all those skyscrapers was breathtaking. This picture will stay edged in my brain forever.
We had arrived on a Saturday afternoon and weren't hungry that day, so we skipped dinner. On Sunday morning, we walked into the coffee shop across the street on 7th Avenue for breakfast. We sat down on barstools at the counter. Soon the waitress came over and asked if we wanted coffee. We said yes, and started to look at the menus. Of course, we didn't understand much of what was listed on those four pages. But I remembered the word "eggs" from a brief orientation course in Geneva. So, when she returned with our coffees, I pointed my finger at the menu heading "Eggs Any Style." She nodded and blurted out a barrage of Chinese words to us. I said "Yes" and pointed at "Eggs Any Style." Then she blurted out more words while I pointed my finger at "Eggs Any Style." She finally resigned, threw her hands in the air, and headed for the kitchen. She served a plate with scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast a few minutes later. When she saw the smiles on our faces, she knew she had guessed correctly. Funny, these foreigners!
After the first day, we both had stiff necks from looking up at the skyscrapers. Piaget Watch Co. was located at 1345 Avenue of the Americas, on the 31st floor. It took the elevator all but 36 seconds to get up there. The windows at the office were facing north. I could see across Central Park to Harlem and the Bronx. An incredible view!
I was well received by the agency's director Mr. Grinberg, his staff, and my watchmaker colleagues in the workshop. An older Jewish lady in the accounting department, Peppi Petzenbaum, spoke a little German. She helped me open a checking account (no idea what that was) at the bank in the lobby and showed me how to write a check. Then she signed us up for English classes at Hunter College.
The Wellington Hotel was just a block west of work. Returning home on the third day, our room had been broken into. The thieves got away with my photo camera and all our cash, about $120. Luckily I had deposited $500 in the bank the day before! Welcome to life in the Big Apple!
A few weeks later, we moved into a furnished apartment in Astoria, a nice Greek-Italian neighborhood in Queens. There was a German butcher down the street, an Italian bakery across from us, a KeyFoods supermarket, and a Laundromat at the corner of 30th Avenue. We loved Astoria. The commute to work was just a twenty-minute ride on the RR Subway line - no transfer needed.
My take-home salary after taxes was $145 a week. It wasn't a whole lot for two people. Even though we lived very frugally, we knew this wouldn't be enough to live on. Ursula was looking for work almost right away. Week after week, the poor thing knocked on Architect's doors applying for jobs and returned home tired and disappointed. I felt so bad for her. It was a frustrating period. On the positive side, our English improved to ask questions and carry on simple conversations. The lessons at Hunter College and listening to (repetitive) TV commercials immensely helped.
Two months later, our savings ran out, and I had to find a second source of income. I would solicit watches that need repair from prestigious Jewelers on 5th Avenue—picking up and delivering during my lunch hour and repairing them at night on a small table in the corner of our bedroom. That worked out OK and kept us going. We had at least enough money for food and could go to the movies occasionally or splurge on ice cream. But this wasn't the life we wanted to live. We decided to return to Switzerland if Ursula could not find work by the end of November. We kept our fingers crossed!
Well, sometimes it rains for a week, but then the sun comes out shining! In October, Ursula found a part-time job, and a month later, she was working full-time for the prestigious architect I.M. Pei on 58th Street and Madison Avenue. Sigh - relief - that was close!
America suddenly looked much more promising to us. We both worked hard and with that, our savings grew little by little.
In January 1973, the company promoted me to the position of Service Manager, and soon after that, Ursula and I were able to purchase a car. It was a used 1969 WV Camper. We started to live our dream! Ursula's Mom and my sister Hedwig visited us that summer. We took our first long road trip together to Niagara Falls, London, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, and Quebec.
There was so much we wanted to see in the Try-State area. Our camper was the perfect vehicle to go and explore places. We could sleep in it overnight and cook meals if we wanted to. We hit the road almost every weekend, driving to new places while the radio blasted our favorite music by The Beatles, Bee Gees, Beach Boys, and Simon & Garfunkel.
Sadly, the camper was stolen one Saturday night. Oh boy, that felt like a punch in the stomach. Welcome to life in the Big Apple! After a month, we received a check from State Farm and purchased a Targa-yellow 1972 VW Westfalia camper. We were right back in business!
New Plans. Funny how a small thing can lead to big plans. In December of 1973, I was reading an editorial about New Zealand in the National Geographic Magazine. The more I read about this country in books and newspaper articles, the more I became fascinated by this unique place on two separate islands in the southern hemisphere. One has snow-covered peaks similar to Switzerland, and the other has a tropical climate and beautiful beaches. We thought this would be a nice place to live for a while.
Thus, we devised an ambitious plan: we would quit our jobs. Then travel in our camper to Alaska and from there all the way south to the tip of South America. From there, we would travel north to Ecuador, sell the camper, and take a ship to New Zealand.
A few months later, I received a job offer from a jeweler in Christchurch, NZ, and was able to secure immigration visas for us. The plan became very real when Ursula and I handed in our resignations at work. Mr. Grinberg thought I was totally out of my mind and tried to convince me to stay.
We started preparing the camper for travel and storing our belongings with our landlady Mrs. Semko. Our good friends Bernhard & Elisabeth agreed to guard our stuff and manage the mail and bank account while we were gone.
Our journey began on May 1st, 1974.
-> -> -> Read details about this trip under the TRAVEL tab.
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