She was a lady I don't like to remember. "Nancy Lykes" was old and tired and somewhat heavy and awkward in her movements, especially when she was loaded to capacity. She was the Lykes Lines 8,000-ton freighter, which would take us from Trieste, Italy to New Orleans as immigrants in l950. We had looked for her smokestack every day for six days, but no "Nancy Lykes." On the seventh day with relief and anticipation we spent all day at the pier, watching the hustle and bustle of a ship being unloaded and reloaded. We also hoped that better food on board would stop Rainier's diarrhea. As the last act, the crane lifted our 12 pieces of luggage on board, and we saw them disappear in the forward hold. We boarded the ship in the evening and watched as a tug pulled her slowly out of the harbor and turned her bow toward the south. We were standing on deck and saw the lights of the city slowly disappear.

"Follow your stars" were the farewell words of a friend, and now we looked toward the sky to find a star which would guide us to new horizons.

Sailing through the Mediterranean was pleasant. The ship was fairly steady and that gave us time to get settled. However, the freighter had no railing and I realized that Rainier could pull away from my hand and fall overboard. A harness was hastily fashioned out of two belts, and he never left the cabin without it. To get his diarrhea under control, he would have to be on a diet, so I cornered the cook with my requests.

"All I have to offer is carrots and potatoes," he said. "We are not allowed to buy anything in foreign countries. Our freezer was full when we left two months ago, but now it is pretty empty, especially since we are running late. You know, the good stuff always goes first, so our menu will be rather simple on the way back."

There was an older American couple on board. He was an antique dealer and had bought much merchandise in Europe, hoping to make a good profit. The other couple was newly married. He was an American and had immigrated to the U.S. several years ago from Italy and had come to Italy to marry an Italian woman who spoke not a word of English. The last passenger boarded in Spain, and he spoke only Spanish.

We never saw the captain. He kept to himself, even dined by himself. The crew hated him. Our dining room was the end of a hallway with some simple tables and chairs. There were no books or music on board. A few month-old magazines, well-read and torn, lay on a shelf.

Our cabin was roomy and had a shower in one corner with a high rim around it. It made a nice bathtub for Rainier, who had the best time splashing around for hours in it.

News came from the steward that we would land in Cadiz and travel up the Guadalquivir River to Seville to take on more cargo. While we were waiting for the tide, the old city with its narrow streets offered a welcome diversion.

After we took a leisurely trip upstream, the cathedral with the old Moorish tower, called Giralda, caught the last rays of the sun on the horizon. We enjoyed our last day in Europe walking the winding streets, across many picturesque plazas, climbing the Giralda and looking over roofs and patios, following with our eyes the city walls leading to the river and the harbor. There were many inviting sidewalk cafes and we would have liked to try the Spanish wine. But we did not part with our few precious dollars, and our growling stomach always sent us back to our "Nancy."

With all the other cargo a dozen or more cages with fighting cocks were loaded and stored under a tent on the aft-deck. They proved to be the best entertainment for Rainer for the next two and a half weeks. A caretaker came along and he and Rainer spent a lot of time together with the lively cocks.

After a few days I made my first acquaintance with a washing machine. The American lady decided to wash just one pair of trousers in it, and I happened to come by and watch. Jürgen practiced his English on the crew. When, after our stay in Seville, they found out that he was a doctor and had brought some medicine along, his business boomed.

Time passed slowly. Conversation was difficult since every passenger spoke a different language. I kept busy following Rainer up and down all the hallways, steps and ladders and pulling him away from the edge of the ship.

Two days out of Seville a big commotion arose. The steward told us that a stowaway had been discovered in the hold. A young Spaniard, poorly dressed, frightened and hungry, had emerged from his hiding place. The captain was furious. The crew was compassionate and they gave him clothing and cigarettes. I remember him sitting on a coiled rope on the very bow of the boat playing the harmonica. What would become of him? We were sure they would send him back. We could not imagine that such a fate could happen to us.

In the middle of the ocean, the radio operator told us the news which would affect our lives. Congress had passed the McCarren Act. All immigration visas were canceled. That meant that they could send us back.

"After they screened us for two years, they could send us back?" I asked Jürgen "We have sold all our furniture, we have given up our apartment and we would have nothing to go back to."

Jürgen tried to quiet me down. "Wait until we are on American soil; maybe they'll reverse it or maybe we can convince them that there is no reason to send us back, maybe....."

We had more than enough time to ponder and worry as old "Nancy Lykes" plowed her way through the waves. Our next destination was Havana, Cuba.

Before we entered the harbor, a beautiful speedboat docked alongside. A half dozen men, dressed in immaculate whites, climbed aboard. They were prominent citizens, but they were interested in one thing only: the fighting cocks. Cockfights were their favorite pastime and they wanted to make sure they had purchased the best fighters. The cocks needed no visas or papers; they disembarked first and entered Cuba on a sleek speedboat with their beaming new owners.

"Nancy Lykes" was deposited slowly at the farthest corner of the freight harbor. We were glad to get solid ground under our feet again. We wanted to pay a visit to the U.S. Consul and the Lykes Shipping Line to find out what our fate might be. The captain had hinted that he might not take us further than Cuba since we had no valid visas.

The shipping clerk shook his head too and confirmed that it was the Line's policy not to take any passengers who had no valid visas. As yet the consul had no directives yet and he said,

"It is up to the shipping line if they want to take you or not. Sorry." A break came from an unexpected source: The Cuban government would keep us only if the shipping line would pay several hundred dollars a day for housing and guarding us until passage back to Europe could be found. That could take weeks and besides, we pointed out, we certainly had no money for the fare. The line was required to post a bond of several thousand dollars to pay for our fare back. Money talks. "Nancy" was willing to take us to New Orleans.

The freighter stayed several days in Havana unloading and loading. We slept and ate on the ship. Otherwise, we pushed the stroller for hours and hours through town. We saw a lot of advertising for rum and Coca Cola and the movie houses advertised two movies for the price of one. We wouldn't part with any money and kept walking.

Part of "Nancy's" freight was huge barrels of olives from Spain. The crane operator had to pick them up very carefully and ease them ever so gently onto the loading dock. We watched when he picked up the last barrel and started to lower it. The crane lost its grip and the barrel hit the concrete, splitting open and spilling all the olives. Out of nowhere dock hands, women and children came running in a hurry with buckets and scooped up the olives. Then they were gone. Our steward, standing nearby, said, "Happens all the time. There is an understanding that there should always be something sidetracked for the poor. The shipping line has insurance, so nobody gets hurt."

This practice and attitude certainly was new to us. We combed the streets of Havana while Rainer had a great time. People would cross the street just to touch his blond hair and look at his blue eyes. We pushed him up the hill toward the fort where Batista had jailed his political enemies.

The voyage would last two more days. Everybody was looking forward to a change of pace; some of us were anxious what the future would bring. The Italian lady had a canceled immigration visa too, and the stowaway had none. The captain was not sure if he had done the right thing to take us.

"We will jump over this last hurdle, too," we told ourselves. "We will, we will----"

The old freighter made her way slowly through the maze of the harbor of New Orleans. We were standing on deck, holding the ends of Rainier's harness tightly. He was straining against it, trying to gain his freedom. All of us were tired of the confinement on this old boat.

Our future was in jeopardy, and we did not know what would happen next. The first officials on board were two immigration officers. They talked to the captain, and then they approached us.

"We will have to take you into custody," they said, " until your case is evaluated in Washington. You will stay in a hotel and cannot leave your room."

Our heart sank.

"But we have no money to stay in a hotel," Jürgen exclaimed, "just enough to get us to our final destination."

"Don't worry about that, the shipping company has to pay for that. Your luggage will remain in the warehouse," he replied.

We were driven in an official car to the nearest hotel. The room on the third floor was small but friendly, and the two officials settled down in front of our door. After eight hours the next shift arrived; we were guarded around the clock. At dinnertime they knocked on the door and led us to the hotel's cafeteria. We had lost our appetite and did not take advantage of the fact that the meals were free. Once a day we were accompanied to a small park across the street for a half hour. This privilege was for the small child's sake.

The room seemed to get smaller each day, and it got more difficult to entertain Rainier with hardly any toys and no TV.

Two days later our guards took us to the local immigration office. Our interrogator was sitting behind an imposing desk. We were intimidated by the whole atmosphere. All of a sudden Rainier wiggled out of my arms and took advantage of his freedom by disappearing under the desk and pulling the official on his pants.

My heart sank even lower. He must think we cannot even control our child, I thought, and we cannot afford to make a bad impression.

"I have children of my own," he smiled, "I know."

Picking the wiggly boy up he handed him back to me. Then he explained that our case was being handled in Washington, and we had to wait for the answer. After a few more questions we were released and driven back to the hotel.

Another two days passed and the land of golden opportunities did not seem so desirable any more. Then we made another trip to the office. This time the officer smiled broadly. "Welcome to the United States," he said, shaking our hands. "We can give you only a visitor's visa for three months, but your chances are good to get a permanent visa later." Our escort brought us back to the hotel.

"You are free to go now. Good luck." He shook our hands and patted Jürgen on the back for encouragement.

It was already afternoon and we were afraid we would have to pay our hotel room ourselves for the next night. We knew that the "Sunset Limited" was leaving in the evening for Los Angeles. So we packed our belongings in haste. Jürgen went to the harbor to pick up our luggage. He had to part with 15 dollars to pay a taxi chauffeur to get our belongings to the train station. For another 20 dollars they checked all our baggage into the baggage wagon. We had a two-day trip to California ahead of us. I went shopping to get food for our trip. I was afraid to ask the clerk for every item as it was customary in Germany. I would need to run around with the dictionary to find the words. To my amazement everything was on display with the price on each item. The customer just took the wrapped food and placed it in a basket. But I couldn't find any milk bottles, and it took a while until I realized that milk and juices came in cartons. We still had one hour's time until the departure of the train, so we went window shopping in the neighborhood to Rainer's and our great enjoyment. There was a Nash car dealer around the corner with a shiny new car in the store. The car looked so alluring that Jürgen walked into the dealer's showroom. The salesman thought he was an interested customer and would not stop praising all the features of this beautiful Nash. He would give us a good deal if we would buy it the same day. It was only 590 dollars. I learned something about American salesmanship.

Another surprise came when we boarded the train. The conductor wore white gloves. The train was air-conditioned, very clean, but one could not open the windows. As the train rolled into the sunset, we breathed easier and felt that now our opportunities were just beginning.