Saturday January 15, 2005 – Getting Away From Roommates

Saturday January 15, 2005 – Getting Away From Roommates

The first cruise was a milk run and very typical of most of the cruises that followed. I fit into the group easily because I had known many of those on board during the time we attended school in Dam Neck Virginia in the fall of 1964. However, my two room mates were both new. Art, though I took to calling him by his full name, Arthur, was from Dallas. He was close to six feet tall and had a high forehead. His blond hairline receded along the temples forming a W with a center crop extending to a point in the middle of his forehead. He had a lower lip that pouted slightly, a prominent nose, gray-green eyes, and a cultured Texas accent.

He had dropped out of Southern Methodist University to join the Navy. Given the build up to the Viet Nam War that had begun after President Johnson took office in the wake of President Kennedy’s assassination, it was a wise choice on his part. He was a choral singer, involved in his neighborhood church, and active in the church’s many activities—especially working with younger members of the congregation. You would have thought he was a pillar of the community. But, he abruptly informed his parents, his neighbors, and his friends, that he had decided to drop out of school and join the Navy and here he was sharing a room with me and young Tim, who Arthur had taken it upon himself to look after, while ashore. It seems that young Tim had seriously contemplated going AWOL by staying ashore as the Mickey Maru set sail this last time. It was Arthur’s counseling that convinced the lad to buck up and return to his duties aboard ship.

Tim was a reluctant enlistee in the Navy. He was a year younger than me, with boyish good looks, though possessing a face with no features that caught my eye sufficiently to leave an impression. I recall that he had light brown hair, a skinny build that had the body language of someone adrift and lacking direction but not caring. It seemed that he had become involved with the daughter of a well-to-do Houston politician and the two had decided to run off to New Orleans in the daughter’s car along with another couple and do something wild and crazy during the time they were in the Big Easy. The something wild and crazy they did was get married. Something that did not please the young woman’s father, who promptly got the marriage annulled and Tim was given an alternative of shipping out in the Navy or doing some time in a Texas jail for kidnapping. The chastened no longer married daughter would be willing to bear false witness at her father’s command. Tim found himself enlisted and on his way to boot camp in less time than it took for his whirlwind marriage and annulment.

There we were three people arriving at this place at this time each arriving for entirely different reasons. Arthur was leaving something behind. Tim was being pushed away and the Navy simply took him off someone else’s hand. I was there in search of adventure. No, that’s not completely true. I was there looking for myself. I lacked the financial resources or the academic prowess of someone like Arthur to have gone onto college from high school. I lacked Tim’s devil-may-care attitude that allowed him to follow whatever path that open itself to him, first New Orleans and marriage, then the Navy and the Mickey Maru.

When we docked after our first cruise, I had three days shore leave before I was to stand duty. I would have one day thereafter of shore leave before the ship headed out to sea once more. During the time I had been waiting for the ship to return, I had used some of my savings to purchase two tailored suits from one of the tailors off base. The small tailor shop with its tiny cramped space, its lone tailor and its bolts of wool fabric was going to turn me into a civilian. The tailor had been around the Navy base long enough to have acquired a good grasp of English and he knew the styles most likely to appeal to U.S. servicemen and civilians. I had selected a dark blue wool and he had taken my measurements. About a week later, I had returned to be fitted with the suit in its early stages of construction—its inner shell exposed like a person with layers of muscle and bone in plain view. I had donned this suit and with a contrasting pair of trousers and traveling clothes in a small suitcase, boarded the train from Yokosuka to Tokyo to spend my three days exploring this international city. It would be a welcome escape from the isolation of shipboard life at sea.

Japan’s train system in 1965 was the most efficient in the world. It was a measure of pride bordering on fanaticism that train conductors ran on time to within seconds. The trip from Yokosuka was a bit nerve racking as I had to constantly watch as each station came into view. I was planning to disembark at Shimbashi Station, where one of the civilian contractors on board ship, who spoke Japanese fluently and had a Japanese wife and two kids living in Yokohama, told me to disembark and to check into the Dai-Ichi Hotel. He said it was the Holiday Inn of Japan. I found both the train station and the hotel, which would become my residence in Japan when not aboard the Mickey Maru. The Dai Ichi is still within a short walk of Shimbashi station—I returned to Tokyo in the early 90s and spent a couple of days there on business, though I stayed in the new Annex as the Dai Ichi that was my old home was being completely refurbished.

The Dai Ichi in 1965 was nearly brand new, the result of a building explosion that was beginning to transform Tokyo from a low-rise city, to one of towering skyscrapers. The 11-story Dai Ichi was just the beginning. A single European-accommodation room with bath was 2000 yen, or $US5.56. A Western breakfast (eggs and bacon with toast) ran 450 yen or just over $US1.00. A Western lunch ran 700 yens, just under $US2.00. The hotel had several restaurants, the Fuji (its main dining room), the Grill Carnaval—with a Western menu, the Olympia—it served international dishes, the Ichi-Zushi (Sushi-shop), and a Chinese restaurant. It was after noon when I arrived and got checked in. I unpacked, hung up my suit jacket—it was warm and muggy in Tokyo and the coat though a light wool weave, was still too warm for the weather. With shirt leaves and slacks, I set out to explore the Ginza and the other areas around Shimbashi station.