THE TALL SHIPS STORY, from the summer of 1976

Memories of another 4^th of July

I used to attract negative people and I definitely attracted negative advice --- “you can't move there, it's too expensive, they’ll eat you up and spit you out, they'll knife you in the back,” … --- real uplifting sorts of stuff and in the summer of 1976, I had my share of nay-sayers too.  It seems to be easier to be negative than positive, to fantasize a catastrophe instead of a great joyous undertaking, or, even just a simple nice day. 

In 1976, I still had a ‘normal job’ (i.e. I wasn’t a writer) and worked in an office where there were lots of people to talk to about weekend plans.  It was about to be The Bicentennial Weekend, July 4th, 200 years of our country and I lived in Philadelphia then, a real Bicentennial city if ever there was one. But, the newspapers kept mentioning the Tall Ships Parade in New York Harbor and it stuck in my mind as a most exciting idea.  I would never leave Philadelphia on the 4th itself but I hatched a plot to take the train to New York the day before and see what I could see.  I did not know New York City well then and had no idea how to get to the Harbor but figured there were subways and I would work it out.  I am always scared enough of new things on my own, so I really didn’t need all the nay-sayers.  But, they were there, aplenty

Some people at work told me it was a totally foolhardy idea; they told me I would never see anything.  They questioned me as to my knowledge of the subway system (not much).  They told me scary tales of New York.  They told me that terrorists were going to bomb the Tall Ships.  They said that on the day before the 4th, and they were authorities, most negative people are very authoritarian in their pronouncements --- on the day before, there would be no ships to be seen at all so why was I wasting my time?

Well, to tell you the truth, maybe it was because of the negativity that I got over my fear of all new things and my general inertia and donned my blue and white striped shorts and my red tee shirt and got on a train to New York City early on Saturday morning, July 3.  I had to stand up to the nay-sayers whatever I was about to see or not see in New York.

Once I arrived, I quickly found my way to a subway that went to the Battery Park where the Harbor was and I was on my way.  The subways did not feel at all violent or unfriendly as had also been predicted.  In fact, everyone seemed in a buoyant and expectant mood. People were draped with cameras.  It felt like hope was in the air.

I had never been on the Staten Island Ferry but when I came upon the Ferry Building, it seemed like a good idea.  Why not?  The Ferry cost a quarter then, now it’s free --- once in a while life works for the average person.  I figured I'd, at least, be on the water and see what I could see.  It was a partially sunny day.  Whole families boarded the Ferry, most everybody smiling.  It was the day before the 200th birthday of our country.

Within seconds of boarding the Ferry, a thin sad-seeming widower from Staten Island attached himself to me.  He told me the story of his life and all his troubles, so, though I had traveled to New York, it seemed like every day to me, anywhere.  We rode out across the water together on the left side of the Ferry where we could see huge military vessels anchored.  The widower was pretty enthusiastic about the military ships so I tried to be polite but they were not very exciting to me.  Then, on our return trip, he wanted to stay on the same side of the Ferry.  He wanted to see the military ships again and he was absolutely sure we wouldn't see anything more interesting. 

There I was, attracting negative people, again.  The man tried to convince me that we had no chance of seeing a Tall Ship.  But, I can be pretty stubborn too and, by that time, I would have been happy to see the Statue of Liberty and call it a day but we had to move to the other side of the Ferry to do so.  I hadn’t set out on this journey to see military boats.

So, I said --- "Look, I've really enjoyed talking to you" (he still wore his gold wedding band) "and I’d like to continue our conversation but I’m going to the other side so if you want to keep talking, come along".  He quickly followed.

There, we found that the sky was growing dark and ominous and huge cumulus clouds were stacking up.  It seemed the clouds were rushing in from the outer sea into the Harbor.  Then, just as our Ferry was nearing its docking point --- whooosh --- a ship with purple sails jumped into view --- whoosh --- a ship with red sails and we stood on that deck in shock.  Then, several more of the Tall Ships that were out at sea doing their trial runs for the next day’s event came racing into port to escape the impending storm.  I can't tell you how many, sometimes three and four came in at once and there was this clutter of Tall Ships.  And, what clutter it was!  Our Ferry was stranded, stranded away from docking as we were forced to leave space for Tall Ship after Tall Ship to come rushing through the channel.  I remember one ship with 12 billowy white sails, like something out of a movie. 

As a group we "ohhhed" and "ahhhed" and pointed; we jostled each other to look this way and that.  There were shouts of  ---"There's the Greek Ship” and “There's the Swedish Ship" --- many people knew the ships and I about cried for the joy and beauty and spectacle of it all, enhanced even more by the contrasting backdrop of fierce black clouds and now rough, white-capped waters.  Our Ferry was 'stuck' for half an hour, half a glorious hour and I doubt there was anyone wanting the time to end.  The photos I got from my little Instamatic camera show an eerie-looking like old world battle scene with Tall Ships bobbing against a threatening sky and turgid waters.  (Of course, I sent copies of my snapshots to the widower who wrote me a beautiful note.  He and I would send Christmas greetings for several years.)

Eventually, he and I said our goodbyes and on my way back to get the subway, I spotted a group sitting at an open-air cafe on the side of the Ferry Building.  (I wish that place still existed, I'd move in!)  I sat down, ordered a drink and found everyone in the place talking animatedly to each other.  People across the way bought me a second drink because I was from Philadelphia and it was, after all, the Bicentennial.  So, I bought a huge bag of popcorn and gave it to everyone at the Bar from my city.  A young man next to me was in awe that I had been on that Ferry.  He had come down to the Battery with the same idea of riding it.  But, when he arrived no boats were allowed out and Michael, a lovely and gentle person, looked out to see my Ferry ‘trapped’ out there on the water while the Tall Ships informally paraded by. 

So much for the unsafe streets of New York and my warnings that I wouldn’t see anything.  When the rain finally stopped, Michael escorted me back to the subway.  But, before that, we walked through Battery Park together.  I had never seen the Battery before and found it so softly green and lovely.  People were out walking again, clowns and other costumed people were entertaining children. Life went on.  An old-fashioned ummpahh band swung into gear as we walked on the shiny rain-slicked sidewalks and I laughed out loud.  How perfect --- there were tubas, the whole thing.  The sun came peeking out and caused brilliant reflections in the puddles. The sky was slowly becoming blue again and I knew it would be a beautiful day for the 4th ahead.  I was returning to Philadelphia and friends, parties, fireworks and parades as well as people who told me how stupid I was to attempt this trip, how I would see nothing.  Nothing? How about 20 - 30 Tall Ships just yards away?  And, what if I hadn’t seen any Tall Ships, what if I had seen nothing?  Would it have mattered?

Michael stopped at a street vendor and bought me an apple pin which he pinned to the neck of my tee shirt.  I used to come across it from time to time in my top dresser drawer and I could never part with it, no matter how hard I was trying to get rid of things.  Memories of the day before that Bicentennial Fourth of July came over me anew each time ---- memories of trains and found subways and helpful people; memories of the widower and the Ferry itself and all us Americans and those ships, those gorgeous God-given Tall Ships and the people in the bar.  I can see their faces still --- all wishing each other well. 

Michael said he bought me the tiny apple pin so I would never forget my day in “The Big Apple”.  But, then, how could I?

Mary Pat Kane