Those dates, in 1956, were monumental for us.
January 7, a Saturday, we were on the boat sailing into New York City -- immigrants to the United States.
January 12, a Thursday, the train pulled into Union Station in Shreveport, Louisiana, at 7 a.m. The sun was just coming up, and for us, the Van Thyn family of four, it really was a new day.
New day, new country, new life. Forever grateful.
It was, as I recall, a bright day. It was clear, the high was 58; the low the night before and that night was right at freezing (32). (Guarantee you it was colder in Amsterdam, and probably snowy.)
At 8 years old, I don't recall being intimidated or terrified, but "unsettled" might best describe it. Same for Dad and Mom, and little Elsa (who was 4). Just trying to figure out what was going on and how to adapt, what to do next.
The only Dutch we could speak was at our house; no one else could understand us. We had to learn to speak and understand English; that was a challenge. It took a while, and for Mom and Dad, months of lessons helped. Don't know how Elsa did it so easily -- she wasn't in school yet, like I was -- but she did ... and even now she remembers more Dutch than I do.
Now we had a President (Dwight D. Eisenhower) instead of a Queen (Juliana). "Ike" would be re-elected later that year, again beating Democratic nominee Adlai Stevenson, just as in 1952.
We had a Congress, not a Parliament. We had a Louisiana governor (Robert Kennon, although five days later Earl K. Long -- the crazy man -- would be elected to his second full term, beating New Orleans mayor Chep Morrison.)
Elvis, with his rock 'n roll and his hips and his sideburns, was the big show in entertainment and on The Ed Sullivan Show.
It was Elvis' biggest year to date -- he was everywhere -- and that March he would end his useful and popular association with the Louisiana Hayride in Shreveport.
But seeing him on television? Not us.
TV? A phone? We never had those in The Netherlands.
But Elsa remembers that Mom and Dad brought about $200 with them -- converted from guilders -- and one of the first U.S. purchases was a television (black-and-white, of course; a color TV was a decade away for us). They thought the TV might help us learn English more quickly, and maybe that is how Elsa learned it.
Don't think we had a phone until we moved to Sunset Acres on July 4, 1957. It was a party line at first -- that wasn't fun -- and the number was 64122 (soon to be ME1-4122, ME for Melrose, if I remember correctly).
Instead of streetcars, trams -- Dad had been a tram conductor in Amsterdam all my life (1947-55) -- we now traveled by bus and the memorable trolleys.
No car for a few months; Dad had a tough time getting a driver's license in Holland (the tests were difficult; the people giving them very strict), and it would be a few months before he got a license -- and a (company) car -- in Shreveport.
James C. Gardner, at age 31, was the youngest mayor in Shreveport history. His four-year term (1954-58) interrupted the two long stays (1946-70) of Clyde E. Fant in that job.
Shreveport, like all the South, was so segregated, two separate worlds that rarely mixed. That was very different for the Van Thyns; I don't remember race being any kind of consideration in The Netherlands. Maybe I was too young to notice.
Instead of going to the outdoor market, to which we walked with Mom a few blocks from our tiny, cold, two-story house just about every day in Amsterdam, we now walked a few blocks in Shreveport to a grocery store (A&P). The shelves and bins were full of items we'd never seen, and many of our favorite Dutch items were only a memory.
I knew nothing about American sports (yeah, just refrain from any smart remarks here). I only knew voetbal, Dutch soccer. And I loved it.
Not until 1954 did soccer become a professional sport in Holland; until then, teams were semipro or amateur.
Didn't take long to learn that U.S. sports were serious business. But it took me a few months to find my favorite team ... and the New York Yankees weren't even the defending World Series champions then.
For the only time in history, the Brooklyn Dodgers were, having beaten the Yankees in the 1955 World Series -- the only time that happened in the seven Yankees-Brooklyn Dodgers World Series matchups. By that October (1956), the result was more acceptable; it was the first of 11 times I've experienced the Yankees winning the Series (plus eight times they lost it).
Which brings another memory. Although Mom, Dad and I were not far along in reading or speaking English, I know we already were subscribing to the afternoon newspaper (Shreveport Journal) because I distinctly remember coming home from school and seeing the result of the (Monday) October 8 World Series game -- Game 5 -- that same day. The headline said Yankees pitcher Don Larsen had pitched the first perfect game in Series history. Perfect game? What was that?
(Games in those days began at noon, Eastern time; so 11 a.m. Shreveport time. This game took 2 hours, 6 minutes, so it ended at 1:06 p.m., plenty of time for the Journal to get the whole story into its city/home edition.)
In American sports, the Cleveland Browns were the reigning NFL champions, the powerhouse franchise -- led by QB Otto Graham and coach Paul Brown -- that had played in seven consecutive NFL title games, every year since they had joined the league.
Oklahoma was king of college football, the Bud Wilkinson-coached dynasty in the middle of its record 47-game winning streak.
San Francisco -- the Dons -- was the NCAA basketball champions, about to win its second consecutive title led by a shot-blocking big guy, Bill Russell, and defensive expert guard K.C. Jones.
The Boston Celtics had never won an NBA championship (but they soon would win 11 with Russell at center). The reigning NBA champs were the Syracuse Nationals; the Philadelphia Warriors won in 1956.
The NHL champions were the Detroit Red Wings. But in 1956, the dynastic Montreal Canadiens would rule again.
The big names in golf were Sam Snead, Ben Hogan (of Fort Worth), and Byron Nelson (who was about to retire). But Hogan's star was beginning to fade; in 1955, he had been runner-up in the Masters (to Dr. Cary Middlecoff) and the U.S. Open (in a playoff loss to little-heralded Jack Fleck in one of golf's greatest upsets).
Arnold Palmer was the 1954 U.S. Amateur champion who had turned pro and, in 1955, played in his first Masters (finished 10th), made the U.S. Open cut for the first time and finished 21st. Jack Nicklaus was about to turn 16, a chubby kid in Ohio with a lot of golfing promise.
And, back to baseball ... the Shreveport Sports were the reigning Texas League champions. Knowing their manager, Mel McGaha, and their ballpark were in my future.
I had never heard of any of them. But I knew about Abe Lenstra, Faas Wilkes, Wim Van Est, Kees Broekman, Jan Klaasens and Coen Dillen.
Sunset Acres was a fairly new neighborhood in southwest Shreveport; the elementary school was in its second year. My future best friend, Casey Baker, and my future classmates, were in the third grade, and -- beginning on the afternoon of January 12 -- so was I, at Line Avenue Elementary across town. Good memories there, too.
(For my Woodlawn connections: In January 1956, Lee Hedges was an assistant coach at Fair Park High. Jack Rowan, eight days before we arrived, had resigned as head coach at Byrd High. Three months later, Hedges -- at age 26 -- was named the Byrd head coach, a job for which he had not applied. Meanwhile, A.L. Williams was preparing for his senior season as a Louisiana Tech halfback, and Jerry Adams also was a senior at Tech, his college time interrupted by service time, his football career limited by a very damaged knee. But those young men -- Hedges, Williams, Adams -- learned a lot about football and leading/teaching young people and in a few years, many Woodlawn Knights would benefit greatly.)
For us, Sunset Acres -- and owning a home -- was not even a thought. Could not have imagined Oak Terrace Junior High (where my path to keeping stats for athletic teams and newspapering began), "Camelot" at Woodlawn, going to college (Louisiana Tech), a journalism degree, a start at The Shreveport Times, the Journal and a career full of other newspapers.
Shreveport was home for me for 30 years -- Sunset Acres for a glorious 10-year period -- and more than 50 years for Mom and Dad, including 40-plus in the house in South Broadmoor.
For me, there was Beatrice and Jason, then Rachel, then in-law kids and four spectactular grandchildren, a helluva lot of mistakes, misdeeds and moves, too many great times to count but blessed to remember. Fort Worth became the greatest place in the world to live, and specifically, Trinity Terrace.
It all began January 12, 1956. It was a bright day, and it was clear. But clearly we couldn't look too far ahead.
---
Two related blog pieces (from 2012):
https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5125402567351329247/1373025344885949427
https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5125402567351329247/8935378780711618213
