July 18, 1944

Everyone has a birth date, a commencement of life, ora specific time when knowledge, feelings, and growthappear and mature. My physical nascence was March 13, 1940.On that Wednesday morning, I was ushered into the worldnot through the warm and fluid uterine canal but lifted frommy mother's womb with the sharp edge of a physician's scalpel.Later in life I would discover that I was a cesarean section baby.My mother, a thirty-year-old housewife and mother of threeboys, simply did not have the physical ability to deliver methrough the normal birthing process. She was in the advancedstages of ovarian cancer. Twenty months later, she died at agethirty-one.

For the next three and a half years, my father took on thechore of raising four boys. My two oldest brothers, Chuckand Bob, often performed roles of surrogate parents for meand my brother Jim. My father emigrated from Thunder Bay,Ontario, Canada. He left the poverty of the farm in this nativewestern Ontario province during the '20s. Farming was not inhis dreams. He tried bootlegging during the Prohibition Era,running a ship across Lake Superior. He gained neither wealthnor fame in this illegal venture. Family stories relate that myfather was missing in action for four months on one of his runs.Chances are that he was nabbed by one of Eliot Ness's agentsand did time in an American hoosegow.

Poverty, the Depression, hard work, the loss of his first wifewho died in childbirth, and being a widower with four boys andno family roots in America took its toll. Three and a half yearsafter my mother's death, my father died of chronic myocarditison June 29, 1944. He lived forty years and twenty days.

Our parents left us naked and our love bruised andbeaten because they died. Each of us manifested our emotionsdifferently—anger, loss, fantasy, and indifference. It would takeyears to confront this family tragedy and come to a realizationthat we were not to blame. It was the damn gene pool.

In twenty days, we suddenly and tearfully traveled from LosAngeles, California, to Utica, New York.

When orphans are created, adults appear. Their motivesmay be charitable, a hand of God, of guilt, or of a prayingmantis eager to devour the lesser and unsuspecting. From out ofnowhere, a legal guardianship was established in the Californiacourts replete with a court-appointed attorney. My brothers andI did not know our newly appointed guardian or his lawyer.

Upon my father's death, the authorities were at a loss asto where to place four orphaned boys aged four to fourteenyears. Placement options were presented to the court. "Let'splace them with the family." Fortunately or unfortunately,"the family" resided in Canada. Eliminate the "family" idea.Next, "Let's place them in the Masonic Home in West Covina,California." Fortunately or unfortunately, our father was aFreemason from Buffalo, New York, and never demitted toa California lodge. Eliminate the "West Covina" thought.Another novel concept: "Let's place them for adoption."Fortunately, my fourteen-year-old brother said, "Hell, no."No Boys Town for us. Finally, "Let the legal guardian assumephysical custody of the boys, after all, he is a Mason." Theguardian respectfully declined the court. He demurred. "Sendthe boys to the New York Masonic Home and leave the father'sestate in California." As always, the praying mantis would claimfour more victims—this time with a legal guardian and a lawyer,with the blessings of the court.

We crossed the continental United States by steamlocomotive. I remembered the Pullman cars. My two oldestbrothers slept in the top bunk while Jim and I bunked downbelow. We were chaperoned by our legal guardian, ElmerJuckett, and another adult. (Remember, orphans have that effectof attracting adults.) Years later, my brother Jim told me thatthe other adult was the actor Melvyn Douglas. I don't have aclue why he accompanied us other than he was an adult.

We arrived in Utica on July 18, 1944. That day was mybrother Chuck's fifteenth birthday and one day before mymother's would-be thirty-fourth birthday. July 18, 1944, wasmy other birthday; the day of a new emotional DNA thatwould identify me for the rest of my life.

After a couple of days of medical quarantine and tests, wewere driven up to the camp. I don't ever recall seeing a pinetree, let alone thousands that stood as sentinels along the road.My trees were orange, lemon, avocado, loquat, and fig. I wasfrightened beyond belief and held on frantically to my brothers,seeking comfort and refuge. My brothers stared out of the carwindows as we drove deeper into the Adirondack forest.

At midmorning we arrived at the camp and were greetedby a grandparent-like couple. "Call me Mr. Wiley," he stated."And this lady is Mrs. Wiley. We are in charge of everyone andeverything." Each of us was assigned a permanent lot number inthe Book of Orphans, Volume III. My number was 881. To myutter distress and fear, the separation of brothers occurred. Mytwo oldest brothers were dispatched to the "barn." They weremy surrogate parents for the past three years. My brother nextin age went in another direction; where, I did not know. I wasescorted, screaming, stuttering, and bawling to the nursery. Thiswas my third painful experience of family separation in fouryears. No explanation was given except "This is the way thingsare done around here."

The nursery was located behind a row of pine trees in frontof the lake. It was attached to a larger building called the dininghall, which had a building similar to the nursery attached onthe other side. The three buildings were painted white withforest-green tin roofs, each with multiple window panes infront. All together, the trio of buildings gave the appearance of avery large white-and-green winged insect.

Ascending the concrete steps, turning right, I entered my newparentless home. There were about eight or nine children eitherolder or younger milling about, playing with dolls, teddy bears, orbuilding blocks. I don't remember any of them smiling or beinghyper as children usually are. I was on my own, like it or not.

I wandered out to the porch area in the window-encasedfront of the building. There I spotted a swarthy child about myage with the darkest eyes playing with tin soldiers. I held up myleft arm with my hand cupping the back of my head to keepthe swarthy child from witnessing my sobbing and stuttering.He heard me, declared a temporary armistice in his warfare, andstated, "Hi, I'm Johnny. Do you want to be the Americans orthe Germans?"

I didn't know what a German was. I was from California,but I knew who Japanese were and that we were at war withJapan. I...