St. Paul recorder. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1934-2000, 1939-07-28

Il
belonging to the Canadian fleet
had churned it's way down the
Whangpoo river from Shanghai,
made its customary stop at Hong
Kong and pointed its nose out in
the blue Pacific for the long lone
some eighteen-day journey to Van
couver which is the end of the line.
Thirteen days after leaving Hong
Kong this writer had boarded the
ship after it stopped over night at
Honolulu. The great white ship
was checked with passengers. The
thousand passengers represented
one hundred vocations-mission-
aries, bankers, financiers, gam
blers, world-travelers, musicians
and many other walks of life.
AS the ship steamed out of
Honolulu and / began to get ac-
quainted with the passengers well
coined the opportunity to review
with them my knowledge of that
strange far eastern country which
we call the Orient. On an army
transport I had journeyed to that
mysterious land where every world
traveller ultimately hopes to arrive.
Perhaps in some future article l
will tell you about japan, how the
citizens are now limited to two
gallons of gasoline per week, how
the dentist fills cavities in their
customers teeth with silver and
cement since the government will
not allow them to use gold. l may
say great deal about that uncan-
ny race of people who can and will
infringe on any patent by repro
ducing anything any one else
might have labored for years to
create.
But now after 1 have travelled
for ten months covering a distance
of $4,000 miles out of these United
States l find myself with a burn
ing desire to talk to you about
America, a land you will never
come to appreciate fully until you
have left it for few months, espe-
cially during these troublesome
times throughout the rest of the
world. Ny personal friends joking
ly accuse me of forever creating
some wierd experience that con-
veniently occurred for my benefit
no matter where / go. Last year
when / was in the South Seas and
came back and told of the terrible
earthquake l was in, my friends
who had been too lazy to read even
the headlines accused me of hatch
ing a fantastic yarn.
The experience which / am about
to relate seemed to have impressed
me more than anything that has
ever happened to me, just what it
means to be an American citizen.
You see, there were several hindus
aboardship on this voyage, and
about 4:30 one morning long be-
fore we entered quarantine at the
port of Victoria, all the passengers
aboard were lined up on different
decks and counted and recounted
like sheep. They call it Muster. I
had experienced some difficulty in
securing a pass to go ashore at
Victoria during the short while the
ship locked there. However before
we reached Vancouver all the ORR
entails, Filipinos, Hindus and "poor
lii me" =. were lined up to be re-
counted. You recall of course that
Americans need no passports or
papers OF any kind to travel to
Alaska, Hawaii, Somoa or any
U. S. possession. I had no papers
on this trip from Honolulu to Van
couver. I knew that was about to
be subjected to a distasteful ordeal,
and right away that phrase popped
into my mind which has made so
many enemies for this country /. :.
''I'll have you know that I am an
American citizen" Yes, had been
mistaken for a Hindu and these
Custom officials didn't seem to
know that there were any Negroes
in the United States.
The trouble was all Strengthened
out, and loads of apologies were
extended me but not until had
learned what it really means to be