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Quote by Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater One...."

“It was during the early summer of 1952 that I found myself in the small community park next to Stevens Institute of Technology. Although I had a job, I had only worked as a “soda jerk” for a little over a week before I started looking for something else. The Hoboken waterfront was still familiar to me from earlier years when I walked this way to catch the trolley or the electrified Public Service bus home from the Lackawanna Ferry Terminal. Remembering the gray-hulled Liberty Ships being fitted out for the war at these dilapidated piers, was still very much embedded in my memory. Things had not changed all that much, except that the ships that were once here were now at the bottom of the ocean, sold, or nested at one of the “National Defense Reserve Fleets.” The iconic movie On the Waterfront had not yet been filmed, and it would take another two years before Marlon Brando would stand on the same pier I was now looking down upon, from the higher level of Stevens Park. Labor problems were common during this era, but it was all new to me. I was only 17 years old, but would later remember how Marlon Brando got the stuffing kicked out of him for being a union malcontent. When they filmed the famous fight scene in On the Waterfront, it took place on a barge, tied up in the very same location that I was looking upon.”

Quote by Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater One...."

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Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater One...."

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“Suppressed I Rise” is the true story of a courageous mother from South Africa and her two daughters. It started when Adeline, the granddaughter of missionaries from Germany, met and fell in love with a handsome young teacher, Richard Beck. They were married in the Cape Province of South Africa and would have been able to enjoy a normal life if it hadn’t been for the dark clouds of World War II. Their first child Brigitte was born in Cape Town in 1936, just as Germany was ordering its citizens to return to the Vaterland. Richard Beck obeyed his country’s call and returned to Mannheim, Germany, bringing his family with him. His young wife gave birth to Ursula, her second daughter, in the Mannheim Municipal Hospital on March 31, 1940, just days before Germany invaded Norway. It wasn’t long before Richard was inducted into the German Army and eventually sent to German-occupied Paris, leaving Adeline with her two young daughters, alone in a foreign land that was now at war with her own country, the Union of South Africa. This was certainly not what she had expected, but life offers no guarantees….”

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“Paul Cuffee, born in 1759, was a free, able and resourceful Quaker businessman of African and American Indian descent. Although he was black himself, Cuffee became a ship’s captain and built a lucrative shipping empire. Becoming a prosperous merchant he had the money to carry out his various philanthropically ventures. In 1815 he also established the first racially integrated school in the United States, locating it in Westport, Massachusetts. The following year he advocated settling freed American slaves back to the West Coast of Africa. At first he found little support from the young American government but being aware of a British colony founded in Freetown, Sierra Leone a British colony he looked for support for his venture from the British government. Although they didn’t support him financially, they did allow him to bring in the freed former slaves. As he became better known as a crusader for this purpose, free black leaders and some members of United States Congress joined him and embraced his plan to take emigrants to Sierra Leone. At the start Cuffee intended to make only one voyage per year, taking settlers and off set his expenses by bringing back nonperishable valuable cargoes such as hand crafted items and furniture quality hard woods. In 1816, at his own expense, Captain Cuffee took thirty-eight American freed blacks, from Boston to Sierra Leone, which was still the only colony that existed for this purpose in West Africa.”

“Teddy Roosevelt or Theodore Roosevelt Jr. captured my imagination. As a child he had debilitating asthma, which he overcame by leading an active outdoor lifestyle. As a young man he attended Harvard College, the undergraduate institution, which is served by the faculty of Arts and Sciences and wrote books relating to history. In 1882 he wrote The Naval War of 1812, establishing himself as a serious historian. He was the Assistant Secretary of the Navy under President William McKinley and later served with the Rough Riders, during the Spanish American War. In 1898 Roosevelt was elected Governor of New York, and then in 1900 he ran for the office of Vice President with William McKinley. Less than a year later, he became the youngest President, following the death of President McKinley on September 14, 1901 As President of the United States, he became the leader of the “Progressive Movement.” Among his accomplishments was the establishment many national monuments, forests and parks. He was responsible for the building of the Panama Canal and sent the U.S. Navy around the world establishing the United States as a world power, setting the stage for the United States to become the leading country of the free world. Unfortunately, this blog only scratches the surface of his accomplishments but you can see his influence in my award winning book “The Exciting Story of Cuba.” Theodore Roosevelt is ranked 4th of our 25 Presidents.”

“His manner became threatening as he stretched out his fat neck and pushed his bullhead at me. Smelling his hot breath and feeling his spit on my face, I heard him yell, “Who did you talk to?” “Why do you want to know?” I bravely asked, expecting the worst. “Answer me!” he repeated. “Give me the name of the person you sheltered!” I faltered, knowing that bad things were about to follow. Here I was just helping a German soldier and this Nazi bureaucrat took it upon himself to punish me. His three huge gold rings cut my face deeply as he repeatedly slapped my face, shouting obscenities. Shaken, I stood there trembling, trying to wipe my bleeding nose and expecting additional blows. Very timidly one of the other women asked just what it was he wanted to know. I stood with my head bowed, as he continued with his demands. I knew that he wanted me to reveal the corporal’s identity. He also wanted the names of the other soldiers who were with him in the village. I told him that they were just German soldiers that needed help! Not even knowing the circumstances, he accused them of being cowards or scared rabbits, Etappenhasen, as he called them. This was a derogatory name given to soldiers suffering from “shellshock” or Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Frightened of what could happen to them, these soldiers in Bischoffsheim stayed close to the mess hall, or goulash kanone as it was called. The local authorities had authorized our helping them and I just couldn’t betray these men! Who was this bully to get involved? I think he was just one of those “Little Hitlers” trying to make a name for himself!”

“When considering -the- event of history, namely the incarnation, Kierkegaard does not de-historicize this event to make faith more palatable to a sophisticated modern audience. Instead, employing contemporaneity he accentuates the historicity of the event, and then identifies our response to it as -either- faith -or- offence. In this way coming to have faith, and thus becoming a whole, authentic person, is essentially and inextricably tied up with the attitude towards an historical event.”

“My senior year flew by and before I knew it, I was graduating from high school. I was never really fired up about going to the Naval Academy, but that’s easy to say after bombing out on the math part of the entrance exam. Little did I know that eventually, I would become part of the Naval Academy’s “Blue & Gold Program!” In time I would become a Math Teacher and a part of the Naval Academy’s “Blue & Gold Program!” Never mind, I did make it into Maine Maritime Academy at Castine, Maine. My interest in the sea was always merchant ships like the blue ribbon ocean liners and the sea itself. I was never really interested in fighting wars, or in warships for that matter. Perhaps it was that I had lost so many of my family to war that I hated the thought of people killing each other for what they considered a righteous cause. In spite of these feelings, I wound up with over forty years of military service. I knew that I was on the right track and at last my parents were proud of me. I was about to graduate with good grades and was following in the footsteps of “those that go down to the sea in ships.”

“Working was a matter of pride and we did it because we wanted to, not because we had to. During our infrequent breaks, the reward was going to the small store we called a “geedunk.” Getting to it required a climb up the long ladder or wooden stairs from the dock area. The geedunk was owned by Ma & Pa McCloud and, although it wasn’t anything to write home about, it was a safe haven for underclassmen and had everything from lobster rolls to hot dogs and hamburgers. Having an old-fashioned soda fountain, some tables and booths, it was a place where we could sit and shoot the breeze, without being hassled by the upperclassmen. Although the Academy fed us well, I was at an age when I was always hungry and if I got some slack time from Bo’sun Haskell or Bill Cooms, and had the money, I’d climb the back ladder for some chow. Sometimes I’d even be able to afford a lobster roll, but they were few and far between. I always tried to stretch the break into at least twenty minutes. Our respite never seemed long enough, but just by looking at my hands you could tell that the work was hard and the day was long. Finally, when the working day was behind us, we usually just dragged ourselves back up the steep hill, forgetting the idea of marching in formation. Time was always a factor, so it was imperative that I get cleaned up and into the uniform of the day before the chow line closed.”

“Delores was hot! She was a very attractive woman in her mid-thirties, which at my age I considered to be an older woman. She lived in Dumont, New Jersey, and my mother suggested that I visit her and confirm the arrangements she had made with her brother. That Saturday I caught a Public Service bus from Journal Square to Dumont. It didn’t take long to get there and before I knew it, I was at her door. Delores was a divorcee and I enjoyed the feeling that she liked me. She didn’t do anything inappropriate, but I felt that she would have if she could have! Knowing that she was a coworker and friend of my mother, her very close presence seemed awkward. Sitting on her living room couch so close to her was exciting, so I didn’t move away. I was amazed at her television set and was torn between looking at her cleavage and looking at this new contraption that could receive moving pictures through the air. I can remember that her set was a projection type made by Emerson, which was a Jersey City company located close to the entrance of the Holland Tunnel. The screen was top-mounted on a big shiny mahogany box. At that time, there weren’t many TV stations around and it seemed as if those few stations could not broadcast very far. However, they did cover the New York City area. The DuMont Television Network broadcast out of Passaic, New Jersey, which was close to where she lived in Dumont, New Jersey. At the time I didn’t know the difference and wondered if there was any connection between the two -- the television network and the New Jersey town. Since the spelling was different, with the M in DuMont being upper case, it seemed rather doubtful. However, DuMont was one of the big players in early television and launched Jackie Gleason’s career, who went on to become one of television’s shining stars in the 1950’s.”

“I never had a problem talking to people, so, striking up a conversation, I discovered that she was going home to Oklahoma City. I told her about being a cadet at Farragut and that I was now heading to California for the summer. Time always goes faster when there is someone to talk to and we had the entire back of the bus to ourselves. The first inkling that something was wrong came when we got off the bus for a rest stop in Little Rock, Arkansas. The driver told me that it wasn’t fitting to sit in the back of the bus with a Negro. I was dumbfounded, and coming from the North, I didn’t understand. I tried to explain that this woman was wearing the uniform of her country, but it didn’t make any difference. That’s just the way it was in the South! We ran into the same kind of bigotry in the diner at our next rest stop, but before I could make an issue out of it, she hushed me up and explained that she just wanted to go home and didn’t need any problems. The two of us sat in the section for “Negroes Only,” where they served her but not this white boy, which is what I was called, along with other derogatory remarks. Never mind, I shared her sandwich and I guess they were just glad to get rid of us when we boarded the bus again. Behind me, I heard someone say something about my being a “nigger lover”.... Big as life, I sat in the back again! This time no one said anything and everything seemed forgotten by the time she got off in Oklahoma City. Another driver came aboard and took over. Saying goodbye to my friend, I got up and moved back to the seat I had had originally -- the one over the big hump for the rear tires!”