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I was born on August 31, 1926 to Frank and Hedwig Lawrora (nee De Balliel),
delivered by a midwife in the address of my grandparents at 128 Leonard Street,
Jersey City, New Jersey, in a section known as Hudson City. My grandfather, Anton,
was my godfather and my aunt Klara was my godmother. My mother was 18 years of
age and my father was 22. The first couple of years of my life were uneventful. I was
a normal child, and the language was unfamiliar to me, but not knowing any other
language, it became the language of my birth - German. And my unoffcial name was
Germanized thus "Johannes Rammund De Balliel-Lawrora" which today is my name
of choice, as is also my original Language, the language of choice therefore also being
German. My father was not around that much, and my later recollection of him, was
him holding me as an infant when I was only a few months old. My mother worked for
several people, but to whom, was also unclear.
My father disappeared for awhile, and through a governmental investigation, he was
found as an enlistee in the United States Army and was stationed somewhere in the
South Pacific; but when the army learned that he was married and had a small child,
he was discharged and shipped back home. From what I understand through my
grandparents at another time, my father was a heavy smoker - four packs per day - and
just prior to my 2nd birthday, he passed away from a variety of causes, which they
attributed to complications. He was buried rather quickly in Flower Hill Cemetery, in
an area rather close to route 1 and 9 which was also called Tonnele Avenue. By the
fence, near where my father was buried, there were buried a number of German
sailors who I learned were taken from a German submarine (u-boot) that had sunk, and
the bodies retrieved by the United States Navy.
After my father passed on, my grandparents germanized the John Raymond to Johannes
Rammund, and added there last name to my surname, hyphenating it thus - De
Balliel-Lawrora. The name was utilized until I entered the public school system,
when I had to revert back to John Raymond Lawrora to avoid confusion among the
school staff. After that, especially after world war II, I reverted back to the
germanized name, utilizing it professionally.
Suddenly, when my mother was barely twenty years of age, she became very ill and
was hospitalized in a sanatorium known as Laurel Hill (Snake Hill) and nearly
succumbed to a variety of illnesses that she had contacted. However, one morning,
when she was on furlough, she was at the house on Leonard Street readying me for a
little trip in the baby carriage. The carriage, with me in it,
was at the top of the stairs ready to be taken out for our
little jaunt, when suddenly the carriage tumbled down the
steep stairs, and when it hit the bottom, I was screaming
with pain, as my right leg was bleeding profusely, and I
apparently had a broken leg, a compound fracture, and many
years of hospitalization and a variety of treatments ensued,
and I was not expected to survive. However, to add insult
to injury, when I was three years of age I had a mastoid
infection and was hospitalized in North Hudson Hospital in
Weehawken, New Jersey. After a botched mastoid
operation, I contacted chicken pox at the hospital, and was
then transferred to the Daisy Ward of Christ Hospital in Jersey City.
Since my birth, the only language I had heard was German (not a dialect, but high
German, spoken by my grandparents, who had emigrated from Prussia, some 30 years
prior to my birth. In the household where I was born, there was my Aunt Klara and
my Aunt Margarete. Outside of my physical problems and then the botched mastoid
operation, I was totally deaf in my right ear, with a strange fluid emanating from the
ear constantly, with an odor that would raise up the dead. But my loving grandparents
continued talking to me in German, as my left ear still had some hearing. My
grandparents had come to America by ship which was half sail and half steam. It was
my understanding that both my grandfather and grandmother did not know each other in
Prussia, but met aboard the ship, which I believe sailed out of the harbor of Danzig.
My grandmother was born in Posen (now "Poznan") and my grandfather came from a
small farming village known then as Schoensee (pretty sea or lake). My grandmother
and her family had to leave their home in Posen, because of foreclosure; and my
grandfather (Anton) and his brother Roman and a sister whose name I am unfamiliar
with settled in Jersey City. My grandfather's sister went on to Conshohocken,
Pennsylvania, where she married a person of Polish extraction. My family, not only
spoke German, but also Polish, as Prussian subjects spoke both languages fluently, but
I never spoke Polish, only German.
Because of my injury to my leg and numerous operations to save my life, I
was enrolled at the A Harry Moore School for crippled children when I was
five, which was named for Governor A Harry Moore whose summer home
was in Sea Girt, New Jersey. I never knew, until I was an adult, that I was
not expected to live past fifteen. My doctors of record were Dr. Sprague and
Dr. Benjamin, both reputable orthopedic specialists. Kindergarten at the
school was a really fun time, and my teacher, Miss Jones, was a real gem.
Despite my afflictions, I loved kindergarten, and even received a Testimonial
for my efforts. My real adventures did not begin until I entered the
elementary classes. I was teased, molested, and treated by some of the
children, because I was different from them in many ways. I was blond with
large impressionable brown eyes; but because of the language difference, I
was very quiet, and usually only nodded my head when spoken too. Others
thought that I was a retard, and picked on me constantly. Even at Camp
Sunshine in Saugerties, New York, where I spent the summers which were
paid for by the City of Jersey City and which was utilized by the A Harry
Moore School for crippled children; until one day I caught one of the leaders
of the camp's thugs in the cottage, and when he raised his hand to hit me, I
promptly caught him off guard, swung him around until I had him in a
headlock, and after a few well adjusted words, advised him to leave me
alone, adding that the next time he may not be so lucky. I was never
bothered by him or his youthful gangs again. At this time, I was also slowly
learning English, but kept my knowledge of German to myself. It was like an
alter-ego, and no one actually knew until just recently that German was my
first language, and is to this day, still is my language of choice. Also, the fact
that my grandfather's name was De Balliel, a French name, no one even
suspected that I was of German heritage, not French, not anything else.
When I was 16 years of age in Jersey City, one of the local ruffians, also age
16, was beating up a girl, age 11, by the name of Janice Hansen. This was
at the corner of Leonard Street and Nelson Avenue. I intervened and threw
the young ruffian off the stoop and warned him to keep away from the girl.
She was crying, but also astounded because of my intervention. She even
asked me if I would like to take her out. I declined graciously. The next
week, her family moved to Farmingdale, New Jersey.
When I was growing up I tried not to get into trouble by brawling, and only
responded when I had to protect myself or someone else. People were
overheard saying quietly not to say something that would irritate me. My
entire features would change and by impulse I would defend myself, but I did
so when witnesses were lacking. People were heard saying that John's looks
had the features of a panther ready to attack; and I did when it was
advantageous for me to do so.
When I was seventeen I was wearing a Dewey button who was running for
election against Harry Truman. A group of thugs from Union City about 35
years of age cornered me in a diner, and while a cop held me, they did a
number on me, ripping my clothes in the outcome. What happened later, the
next day or so after the incident, is best left to the readers imagination.
During the draft years, while world war two was winding down, because of
my physical impediment, I was constantly written off as 4F. The authorities
at that time were very inconsiderate, mocking and insulting me. I always
refused their meals in the armory, tore up the cards a total of six times, and
through it into the faces of those in authority. Of course they threatened me,
while I silently cursed them out in my best German. But with a few friends, I
enlisted in the second service command of the New York State Reserve; the
Captain overruled the examining physician in my favor, and I trained at Camp
Smith near Peekskill, New York.
At this time I also single handedly ran a clothing drive for the deprived families
of Germany and Austria, and for awhile I belonged to a new society that had
just formed, the Federation of American Citizens of German Descent. I
requested permission from the President to commence a clothing drive. The
President said "No" to me and I ran the clothing drive anyway, without his
permission, whereas he published an article outlining me as a "Nazi" . I had
nothing to do with politics, and ran a successful drive; and when the president
resigned, I placed an article in the Hudson Dispatch, which announced
"Federation is now under New Management". And it was!!!
When I was eighteen years of age, I ran away from home with just enough
money to take me to a state with a dry climate, so that an earlier doctor who
had prescribed a dry climate to cure my deafness in the right ear. (While I
had been at A Harry Moore School for Crippled children, one of the teachers,
with more brains than the others, found out that I was totally deaf in my right
ear, and thereafter I received lip reading instruction - nine years of it - that I
could read a person's lips from across the street). I took a greyhound bus to
take me to Fargo, North Dakota, and arrived there on the 4th of July, with a
little more than twenty dollars in my pocket, but not enough to get me back
home if I failed in my mission. At a dinner, a young man was not able to pay
the one dollar and change for his breakfast, and before the manager could
have the poor chap arrested, I paid his bill; and smiling, he thanked me and
left. The manager thought I had gone bonkers. But I had my breakfast,
washed up, and readied for my first interview in the United States
Employment Office, and at ten a.m., I was hired by a farmer, even though I
had no prior experience. The man was a grain farmer from Page, North
Dakota, and for the next three months I drove a tractor, plowed the fields,
helped with the harvest, maintained the large Case tractor, and fed the
animals. Having breakfast, lunch and dinner was always like having a seven
course meal, because we always had steak, baked potatoes, vegetables and
pancakes, and even eggs with Fri's. The boss was a burly man with a
wicked temper and sharp tongue, equal almost to my own outbursts, which
astonished the farmer. But the climate did me good. My infected ear dried
up and my hearing slowly improved. And when we had a few weeks of rain,
and there was very little to do, I went on vacation to a small western town -
Absarokee, Montana. I had known a young lady that I met through a
correspondence club at school, and today, that lady is the same age as mine,
and still going strong, but living in Portland, Oregon with her daughter and son.
When I returned to Page, I finished out the three months I had promised my
boss, and he drove me to the train station where I waited for an ancient
locomotive with a tender, one coach,
and a baggage car. Boarding the train
with its ancient coal stove in the center
of the car, we moved ever slowly
toward Fargo, a trip which took
almost eleven hours to travel 56 miles.
And here I took a bus toward
Milwaukee, Wisconsin, another
adventure with my German brethren
where I stayed for nearly two years,
realizing a wintry storm with blizzards,
and snow, that shut down the city for
eleven days. In Milwaukee I met
German and Polish people that spoke
the same language as I. And I was truly at home. My grandfather even
came to Milwaukee to visit me. And I was still pealing from the hot sun on the
North Dakota plains.
After Milwaukee, I returned to New Jersey for a short visit for my wandering
spirit was just oozing for more adventures. At that point in time I enjoyed
travelling by bus, never taking the same route twice.
TO BE CONTINUED......
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