Coming to the U.S.A.

U is for the United States of America!

The following story was transcribed by my sister-in-law Kelly as she listened to my parents tell some of their story on immigrating to the U.S.A. in September of 1947. They were visiting my brother Steve and Kelly on Labor Day September 5, 2011.

“Spent the afternoon with  Mom and Pop and wanted to share some of what they had to say.  This is the unedited copy filled in as Pop was talking…so excuse the grammatical errors, if I wait to edit you may never see it.”

(This photo is taken after my parents and sister Kathy settled in Los Angeles. This was sometime in late 1947 or early 1948. My mom is pregnant with my sister Vera in this photo and Vera was born in late February of 1948.)

“Pop said he’s never shared all these details because…no one asked.  What started the retelling is that tomorrow marks the anniversary of their first arriving in NewYork…Sept. 6, 1947.  They arrived in Los Angeles on the 12th.

When Mom and Pop left Iran they got a flight on a Red Cross cargo plane..the propeller variety, that had dropped off supplies and was heading back to New York.   It was very loud he said…no seats, just benches along the sides.  Due to refueling and frequent stops it took 4 days to fly from Tehran to New York.  At  most of the stops they got out and ate…and in four places spent the night. He said they had 27 people on the plane and it was full.”

(This is probably what the inside of the Red Cross cargo plane looked like. I hope the Navy is ok with me borrowing it…)

“This is the basic itinerary.  (Pop had made a detailed journal of the trip, but lost it in the last few moves.)  From Tehran to Cairo…spent the night.  From Cairo to Rome..spent the night, got to drive by St. Peters.  From Rome to England, where they were not allowed off the plane so they had to head to Ireland to a US military base.  They spent the night there.  From Ireland they went to Iceland, then to Greenland…where they again spent the night.  From Greenland they went to New York.

Upon arrival in New York they were taken directly to the train station.  Unfortunately, the ‘coupons’ that one of pop’s brother’s, my Uncle John, secured for them weren’t signed, so they couldn’t be used. They were suppose to be vouchers for travel purchased in Iran from an agent.  So since the coupons didn’t work they were stuck in the train station with no money, no food, with a one year old. Mom and Pop were 23 and 24 at this time.

Some nice people helped them and Pop had a card with the name of a Russian church on it.  They took them on the subway to the church and arrived in the evening just as the minister was locking up.  There was no time to find a home for them to spend the night so they took them to a hotel.  Mom said, ‘They put us on the 9th floor, I was so scared..”  And the other couple they were with were on the 14th floor.  The next morning was a Sunday so the streets were empty and Mom said she looked out the window and down and there was trash blowing along the street.  Very frightening to look that far down.

The minister showed up with milk and bread, they hadn’t eaten the day before, and they remember that delivery making them feel like orphans.  They had no money, no food, and Pop only spoke a little English.  (Which he had learned working on an American Military Base in Tehran…I’ll get to that.)

The pastor took them to church and that night they stayed with a family.  On Monday they put them on a train to Chicago.

Two vivid memories of their time in NewYork…  It was the first time Mom had seen toast, and she couldn’t figure out how they got it perfect on both sides.  She also got stuck in a revolving door and couldn’t get out.  She said, they weren’t educated enough to be in New York.

In Chicago another group from a church met them, fed them, gave them a place to stay, and then put them on a train to Los Angeles.  It should be noted that Kathy was very good during all of this, only cried a little.  At some point in this US leg of the journey they were able to contact people in LA to wire them money for the train tickets.  Pop figured it took them about 2 years to pay back all of the costs of their trip to the States.”

(This is a photo of my sister Kathy in a park in Los Angeles, California. Love how the older folk sitting on the benches in the background all have hats on.)

My parents were the first of their families to arrive in the U.S.A.

“In the course of telling this story Pop mentioned other jobs he’d had so I made him list them in order…here is roughly the job history.

His first job was driving horses plowing the fields in Russia.  There were four horses hooked to the plow.  He worked plowning.  (Think clowning)  He also worked threshing the wheat.

Then he worked as a shepherd.  A group of families had cows, sheep, and goats and it sounds like the kids from each family took turns watching the animals.

When they moved to Tehran he worked as a babysitter/houseboy doing whatever the woman of the house wanted him to do.

Later, in Iran he had a job feeding cows.  Then after they were milked he would walk around town to the customers they had and sell milk from a bucket by the cup.

After that he went to work on some of the Shah’s land doing farming.  When it wasn’t farming season he would deliver sand and bricks to road crews.

Then he had jobs on Military bases…he worked on the American base in the kitchens washing out the pans. They would feed him while he was there, and give him food to hide on his body to take out to his family.  (Not technically allowed to take the food, but the cook was nice.)  It’s also where he learned to speak some English.

He also worked on the Russian military base as a mechanic.  He said he ‘fix em’ Chevy’s and Studebaker’s, when they had been in accidents, we fix em up.

His last job in Tehran was in a brick factory.  It was far away so he needed to have transportation.  He said, he and Mom lived in an apartment with 4 other families above a sauna house owned by a Turkish man.  He sold Pop a bike that he had stolen…  When I asked, ‘he stole the bike?”  He said,’Yes, but he sold it to me real cheap, and nobody would recognize it because they changed the color.”  He rode the bike to work every day.”

Ellen’s thoughts…

When I think of what my parents went through to get to the United States I’m really grateful. Grateful to God for giving them the courage and faith to face the unknown. Just the language barrier had to be scary. They had a little toddler and my mom was pregnant with my sister Vera during this journey. Sitting on a bench in a loud cargo plane with 24 other people with a little one in diapers, amazing. They had no idea what kind of life they were going to have in the United States. They had only lived in villages where maybe there were a few 2 story stuctures and here they were in New York City with tall buildings. When they arrived in Los Angeles my dad worked odd jobs in carpentry and construction. They helped the rest of their extended family immigrate to the U.S. over a number of years. Each of these family units lived with my parents until they could get into a place of their own. My mother’s father was killed in Iran after my parents came to the U.S. My mother’s mom immigrated to the U.S.A. with my Uncle and Aunt as a widow. So much hardship endured and they persevered over the years and have always expressed their thankfulness to God for bringing them to the U.S.A. They had 9 children total. Their first daughter died in Iran when she was a toddler. Here are the 8 of us in age order…this is an old photo.

Kathy, Vera, Fred, Ellen, Tim, Steve, Lana, Leonard

My mom and pop in 2009. Next week on the 13th of September they celebrate their 68th Wedding Anniversary!

This is a very long wordy post but I want to document all this information for my family to have. If you made it through I applaud you! Thank you for your perseverance!

I’m linking up this story to Alphabe-Thursday since we are on the letter U. Thank you to Jenny for hosting this fun meme.

Thankful for Extended Family

***Please scroll down for Fridays Fave Five…

Thankful in November

I am thankful for family and friends that go back to Russia, escaping to Iran, and finally by God’s grace immigrating to the U.S.A. Our families used to be more connected when they all first arrived as immigrants to the USA after WWII and through the 70’s. After the first generation kids got married we drifted off from each other. We always enjoy getting together for big events and reconnecting.

 

 

This photo was taken in Iran in the late 1940’s after my parents and sister Kathy had left for the U.S.A. The two families represented here are the Shvetzov Family (my mother’s family) and the Katkov Family (my Uncle Paul’s wife’s family). My Maternal Grandmother and Grandfather are seated on the right. My Uncle Paul and his wife Nina are standing on the right. My cousin Alex is at my grandmother’s side. The rest of the family are all Katkov’s and their spouses. The little girl standing on the left is the lady in the collage below with the yellow mickey mouse hat on. :0) The gal with the red and white polka dot hat on is the little girl being held in the top row of the photo from Iran. She was 5 when her parents immigrated to the U.S.A. The three young girls in this photo from Iran are the only ones still living, Tamara, Vera, and Zena. My cousin Alex died almost 30 years ago in a car accident.

 

Dear and I traveled across L.A. to Mission Viejo for a Nifty Fifty birthday party for Tanya, my youngest cousin on my mother’s side of the family. My mother had one brother Paul Shvetzov and he married Nina Katkov. My uncle Paul and Aunt Nina had 4 children. We were able to spend a few hours reconnecting with my cousins Valia and Tanya and some of their Katkov cousins and aunts that we all grew up with. It was great to get together for a fun celebration because we’ve had our fair share of funerals in the last few years. One of our Shvetzov extended Kasimoff cousins was there too (Hi Helen). It’s confusing people and that’s why we called everyone our cousin and our aunt or uncle growing up!

 

Aunt Nura is the oldest surviving Katkov. All her siblings except for her two youngest sisters, Zena and Vera have all gone to be with the Lord. She’s not in the photo from Iran either because she married a U.S. soldier and came to the U.S. before this photo was taken, too. Top row is Tamara, the daughter of Nura’s brother Vasilli, (Tamara is the little girl in the photo from Iran being held by her mother Zena in the top row) Valia (my cousin) the daughter of Nura’s sister Nina, Michelle (Valia’s daughter) and Shirley (Nura’s youngest daughter). Shirley and I have some fun history together from our teen years.

 

This is my side of the family that attended the celebration photographed with the birthday girl Tanya in the middle in red.

Photobucket is holding all my photos from 2007-2015 hostage and demanding a ransom for me to access them. I’m slowly cleaning up many of my posts where PB have added ugly black and grey boxes where my photos used to be. So frustrating!