A Trip To Remember

New York City
Fall 1946

The Hanson boys were home from the war. For the first time in many years we were all together at home enjoying Mom’s incomparable “pot roast”. Willie said, “You know we really should celebrate all of us being home at the same time. Tom, you had a big payoff from your last trip (this big payoff represented six months at sea) why don’t we take a trip somewhere, maybe New York?” This seemed like a good choice because he was on crutches as a result of a horse riding adventure.
My stepfather volunteered the use of his car, which made the trip possible. It is only at this late date that I can fully appreciate him and his generosity to his three stepsons.
After an uneventful drive we arrived in New York and checked in at the Times Square Hotel.
The next two days were spent sightseeing and enjoying the nightlife including a visit to Jack Dempsey’s famous supper club. Willie’s crutches caught the “champs” eye and he came over to our table to shake hands and say a few words. Surprisingly, he was an accomplished host and I gained a great deal of respect for him in that brief encounter.
We decided to have our last dinner in New York at a good, but inexpensive restaurant where I often ate when I shipped out of that As fate would have it, a number Navy trainees were there celebrating a rare liberty ashore. I knew from experience we were very likely in for trouble because we were not in uniform and that these self proclaimed patriots would give us a rough time. They did.
Every time they passed our table or we went to the restroom, they would mutter f------ draft dodgers or other disparaging remarks. Brother Ed didn’t have a high level of tolerance for personal insults and I could see that a confrontation was immanent.
It came when a drunken redneck made the serious mistake of stopping at our table to tell us personally what he thought of “draft dodgers and 4F er’s.” What followed was reminiscent of the colorful and destructive barroom brawls of the Wild West. Some of the tables and chairs in our area were in shambles. Broken dinnerware, glass, and food littered the floor. My most vivid memory is of Willie swinging one of his crutches in a wide arc, effectively repelling a frontal assault by several of the seafaring warriors.
It didn’t last long. In several minutes the wail of sirens was heard and we made a hasty retreat through the kitchen and down a narrow alley, eluding the Navy Shore Patrol.
It was a somewhat battered and disheveled three brothers who stood across the street gleefully watching our tormentors being loaded into the patrol wagon for a weekend stay in the brig
Before leaving the next morning I contacted the restaurant owner. He said he had observed the entire incident,and I was to forget about any property damage, that it was covered by insurance or if there were a problem he’d be damn sure “Uncle” picked up the tab.
Driving home there was a sense of closeness, of bonding, that had we hadn’t felt before and sadly would never feel again.