5 Cents to Spare
A 1936 Around The World Travel Adventure
by
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Chapter 1 Departure - April 4, 1936
I'm off . . . left Berkeley via Southern Pacific train at 8:45 PM Saturday, April 4, 1936. I didn't know whether to believe I'm really on my way to Europe or not.
As a 26 year old student of Architecture I planned to tour Europe to see first hand what I had studied for four years. I had saved $1000; it was the year of the Olympic Games in Germany; German Marks were at a 25% discount to foreign tourists; I had an invitation to visit relatives in Germany. What more could I ask? My plan was to make Germany my home base from which I would make various excursions. Little did I know that one of these excursions would change my plans and take me around the world instead.
It was a hectic week. The hustle and bustle of organizing my papers and money, purchasing a Leica Camera with 35mm lens, packing my clothes and gifts for Germany relatives, and seeing my friends in San Francisco, San Jose, Oakland and Berkeley just about got me down. It all seemed like a dream.
Tonight my brothers and sister had dinner at my sister’s house. It was a sort of last fond farewell to me. My brother, Douglas, and I went on ahead to the depot where I purchased my ticket to New York and where I changed my cloths for the trip. I had a suitcase and a small trunk loaded with a suit, informal wear, gifts, paper, drawing equipment and a number of extra rolls of 35mm film.
The rest of my family and friends came down to the station later. Poor Margret, my fiancée, did so badly want to see me off but had to work tonight. It will be a long time before I see her again. I didn't know it then, but she would be instrumental in my return home after being stranded in Shanghai.
The train stopped only a few minutes at Berkeley station. With handshakes, a few hugs, and a tear or two, I climbed on board and was finally on my way. In two hours we were in Sacramento where I had gone to junior college for two years. At 12 midnight we were in foothill country at Colfax, only 12 miles from my hometown of Grass Valley where I had lived almost all my life. The train stopped long enough to take on water, refuel, and absorb some more passengers. As we waited, I thought of my mother and father so close by in Grass Valley and wondered if they were thinking of me this Saturday night as I was of them.
As the train pulled out to make the long, winding climb over the Sierras to Truckee, Reno and the world beyond, I realized with a tinge of nostalgia that I was leaving my country that I knew and loved so well; the land of hills, rugged mountains, deep canyons and thick stands of pine trees everywhere.
April 5, 1936. This morning I awoke to Nevada's sandy plains. It was nothing but brown sand dotted with olive green and brown sagebrush which seemed to grow evenly over the country as far as the eye could see. In the distance the general flatness was broken by a gentle pitching which, in the greater distance, assumed the proportions of mountains. The hills and mountains were perfectly barren of vegetation and the taller ones looked as if they had been sprinkled with powdered sugar on their summits. It was a strange kind of beauty . . . a country so full of opposites.
The Great Salt Lake in Utah was the only break in the monotony. We arrived there around 5:30 PM just as the last glints of sunlight were striking the distant snow clad mountains on the opposite side of the lake and reflecting in the deep emerald brine. Overhead were a few sea gulls wheeling this way and that. They seemed quite lost at a place so far away from their usual haunts.
At Ogden I had to change from one coach to another. It was perhaps fortunate I did because I met some very interesting people. As I sat there, a couple of well dressed young women, looking and dressing exactly alike, came in and sat opposite me. I overhead them say they had come from San Jose. Pardoning myself, I mentioned I had come from San Francisco. The ice was broken and we discovered we had mutual friends in San Jose. In the course of conversation I learned that they were the "Mack Sisters" (twins) who sing over KFRC radio every Wednesday evening. They also managed some sort of lace manufacturing business in San Jose. The reason for their trip was to visit their grandmother near Granger, Wyoming, who was very ill.
Meanwhile a young fellow by the name of Joe sat down near us. I had said "hello" to him in Ogden. He had just been released from the Army where he had served for three years in Manila. The four of us began to talk about the Army. We hadn't been talking for long before a young girl named Dot walked in with a girl companion. These last two had played cards all afternoon with the Mack Sisters, so we all sat down to talk. The porter started to put up the Pullman births where Dot and her companion were to sleep. It was only 8 PM and these girls had no intention of retiring before 12 Midnight. They decided to see what was going on in the other coaches.
April 6, 1936. It must be very cold out as over most of the country there was a thin crust of icy snow broken by patches of brown grass and earth. The fenders of automobiles often had ice hanging from them. Last night the outside windows of our coach began to freeze into a lacy design. What few trees I saw look so sad and lonesome and so naked without a vestige of green growth. There is no comparison between California and its neighbors to the east.
April 7, 1936. I arrived in Chicago almost completely worn out. We certainly had fun last evening on the way to Chicago. When the train stopped at Omaha, most of us in our coach got off to have dinner at the station lunchroom. Joe decided it would be nice to have some whiskey on our last night together. I'm not sure whether he bought it or whether a woman of around 45 whom we called McCarty was instrumental in its purchase. From Omaha to Chicago our coach was practically empty except for the half dozen of us.
We had quite a mixed group. First there was Joe who was always lamenting the Army "caste system" and how the Army had wrecked his life. The more he drank the more he talked until I got absolutely sick of the story.
Then there was McCarty, who had drunk so much that she began to think she was psychic and insisted on telling everybody's fortunes. Her fortune telling was concentrated on Joe and Dot who were not the least bit interested and didn't mind telling her so. All of a sudden McCarty looked at me and decided that she had seen me someplace before and perhaps I was a detective sent by her husband from Berkeley to trail her and report on her. She called me "sluefoot" and begged the others not to let me get off at the same station with her.
Then there was Dot, a blond of some nineteen years old who knew all the questions and answers . . . or so she thought.
There was another young girl of seventeen years called Clara who was sensible enough not to take too many drinks. She and Joe did most of the singing while Dot played the part of director and insisted that they tone down so her weaker voice could be heard.
Another girl named Margaret was about 23. She and her mother were crossing the country to Washington D.C., where Margaret had a government job. They were very nice and courteous and temperate.
Still another was a sad faced serious young woman who was going to Kalamazoo, Michigan with her 14 month old baby and mo
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About the Book
This book is about my father’s 10 month around the world travel adventure in 1936. He visited some 20 countries, traveling by bicycle loaded with camping gear, second and third class train, bus, ship, motor lorry, riverboat, and hiking. His greatest adventure was a 500 mile hike along the Burma Trail from Burma through China to Hanoi. Wherever my father went he aroused the curiosity of the local people and the suspicions of the authorities. He recorded pre WW-II viewpoints of the towns' people and fellow travelers on social, political, educational, and economic matters. He bedded down in guesthouses, youth hostels, YMCA’s, or camped out. He recorded some of his story with over 1,000 photographs. Over a 15 year period, I transcribed my father’s handwritten diaries. There were many duplicated entries because much of his diaries consisted of letters home to family and friends. Most of these letters contained accounts about the same thing, but each either had a different twist or some new activity altogether. My biggest job was to eliminate all the duplication, fit together the different twists, and to put it all together into a logical timeline. In my first effort to transcribe I used a manual typewriter, before the personal computer was available. About the time I finished, I bought my first PC, an IBM XT. I re-entered all my typewritten pages into the computer. As the years went on I got better and better computers, copying my father’s adventure into each, making more changes along the way. Eventually I put together a 31 chapter book with 166 photographs. My father (and my mother) passed away in 1994. It had always been his wish to find a way to publish his travels so that others may see the world as he saw it. Larry S. Kramm Antioch, California July 1999
About the Author
Alfred H. Kramm
Alfred grew up in Grass Valley where he met and married Margret Harshaw in August 1937, six months after he returned from his trip around the world. In 1933 he received a BA Degree in Architecture from the University of California at Berkeley. Post graduate work led to becoming a Registered Professional Civil Engineer in 1953.
Alfred took a position in 1937 with the Shell Oil Co. in San Francisco as a draftsman. Later he became an engineer working in Portland, Oregon and Long Beach, California. In 1953 he was promoted to Senior Civil Engineer and transferred to the Manufacturing Division at the Wilmington-Domingues Shell Oil Refinery near Long Beach, California, where he lived for the rest of his life.
Alfred retired from Shell Oil in 1968 and continued to live in Long Beach. He was active in many activities mostly centered around rock hounding and various California State advisory committees on recreational land uses.
Alfred passed away on June 7, 1994 after several years of getting blood transfusions for refractory anemia. He died in his sleep at home. Before he died, he made a specific addition to his will giving his son, Larry S. Kramm, the sole rights to his world trip diaries and photographs. The two of them had been working for several years prior on refining the notes and documenting the photographs. It had always been Alfred’s desire to someday publish his adventure.
Larry S. Kramm, eldest son of Alfred, was born July 6, 1940 in Portland, Oregon. He received a BA Degree in Sociology in June 1962. A tour of duty in the US Air Force as a personnel officer with the ranks of 2nd and 1st Lieutenant followed.
In July 1966 Larry accepted a position with Chevron Oil in Seattle as a Credit Representative. It was through a fellow worker that Larry met and married on April 13, 1968, Shirley Hill. In August 1969 he was transferred to Chevron’s offices in Concord and a few years later purchased a new home in the nearby city of Antioch, California.
In September 1981, after 15 years as a credit/collection representative, Larry accepted a position as a Data Storage Analyst for Chevron Information Technology Co. He worked in that position for the next 16 years and retired in August 1977 after 31 years working for Chevron. In his retirement Larry set about to finalize the book.