HARRIS DALTON
Crossing the United States On Only $5 in 1954  

By Harris Dalton

I spent only $5 on gas while crossing the United States back in 1954. No, I didn't have some magical carburetor that would get 1,000 miles per gallon, but indeed, I only spent $5 for gas on the trip from Long Beach, California, to Tallahassee, Florida.

The trip began when I was discharged from the Navy after serving an enlistment of three years and a nine-month extension because of my "value" to the Korean War effort. With $500 mustering out pay, I felt it was an opportunity to take my time and see as much of the country as I could on my way back home to Georgia. Except for a previous incident hitchhiking in Hawaii, I had never had any trouble and viewed hitchhiking as an economical, safe and interesting way to get from here to there. I had met many interesting people that way. Once while hitchhiking home on leave, I was picked up by a young man in El Paso, Texas.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Going home to Georgia after seven months on an aircraft carrier in the Korean War," I told him.

"Well, I'd planned to turn south a few miles down the road, but I'll take you as far as Dallas. It's a little out of my way, but I know you're in a hurry to get home and see your folks and friends," he said.

I told him how much I appreciated such a gesture, and we didn't talk much after that. When he let me out in Dallas, I asked, "About how far did I take you out of your way?"

"About 300 miles," he said.

"Man, I never dreamed I'd put you to that much trouble," I said, flabbergasted that he had driven half the night to help me get home.

"My pleasure," he said, "Hope you find all your folks doing fine."

With that he drove off, never knowing my name or me knowing his. Time had been of the essence when I was in the Navy and had only a short leave period to get home and back, but now that I was out, time was not so important. I could take my time along the road. I had $500 mustering out pay with which I had purchased traveler's checks so I felt comfortable that I could eat, drink and sleep in places along the road.

I had been discharged about four hours when I caught a ride with a fellow on the outskirts of Long Beach who said, "I'm only going a short distance, but you're welcome to ride as far as I'm going."

"Is it in an easterly direction?" I asked.

"Yeah, just beyond Pasadena," he said.

"Then let's go," I said as I hopped in his car.

Thirty minutes later he said, "Well, this is where I turn off."

I was surprised, maybe a little shocked, at the location. It was a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. I got out and discovered I was in what looked like the desert, and there was no sign of a house or store in sight. The wind whipped up a little, and I got to wondering what it would be like out there if the wind really got to blowing.

I was feeling a little desperate when a brand new 1953 Oldsmobile pulled up beside me. A woman, slightly older than me, was driving, and a boy, younger than me, sat in the passenger seat. He opened the door and slid to the middle of the seat inviting me into the front seat.

As I was bending over to put my satchel on the floor, the driver asked, "Where you headed, sailor?"

"I was hoping to get to Phoenix by dark," I said as I straighten up.

"We're going to Tampa," she said.

"Well, then you can let me off at Tallahassee," I said. "I'm heading for Americus, Georgia. I had planned to make several stops along the way, but if you're going that far, I might as well go along if you don't mine."

"We don't mind. We were just thinking what a lonesome ride it was going to be with just the two of us. This is my nephew," she said and told me his name, and added, "I'm Judy." (Not her real name).

Naturally, they wanted to know where I had been stationed and asked me if I knew their cousin who was in the Navy. People always wanted to know if I, by any chance, knew someone they knew in the Navy, and I never did. I told them about my three years on the aircraft carrier USS Sicily and the 17 months in the Korean War with the Black Sheep Squadron and my recent discharge.

"What do you plan to do with your life, Harris?" she asked.

"I'm going to college on the GI Bill and take some writing courses. I want to write the great American novel someday," I told her.

"They have an excellent college in Tampa. I could get you a job in the nightclub I'm going to be performing in, and you could supplement your GI Bill by working there on weekends. It pays pretty good, and you would get invaluable insight into the kind of people who frequent such places," she proposed in a helpful manner.

I learned that Judy had been a contortionist dancer in a nightclub in Los Angeles, but was going back to Tampa, her home, to dance in a club where she had formerly worked.

"Los Angeles was just too far away from my friends and family," she explained. "I just wanted to get back home."

We had an understanding that I would come to Tampa after visiting my folks, and she would get me a job at the nightclub, probably as a bartender, and I would attend Tampa College.

Judy would never let me pay for any of the meals when we stopped for a rest break. We only stopped once at a motel somewhere about the halfway point and that was for only five or six hours, mainly to catch a nap, bathe, shave and change clothes. Judy slept in a single room while her nephew and I shared a room with twin beds.

For most of the trip, Judy and I shared the driving, her nephew being too young to drive. It was while I was driving and both of them were asleep that I spent $5 for gas. We were nearly on empty when I pulled into a gas station and filled up the tank for slightly less than $5 and told the attendant to keep the change. Judy insisted on repaying me for the gas, but I was adamant that I wanted to assist in paying for the trip in some way.

When we parted in Tallahassee, Judy gave me the name of the nightclub where she would be working and her mother's phone number in Tampa.

Two weeks later, I took a bus to Tampa looking for Judy. The girls in the nightclub told me that she had been in earlier in the week, but they hadn't seen her for a couple of days. I called her mother, and she told me that Judy had gone to New York and was expected back in a few days. That few days turned into a week, and I decided to go for some R&R at Passee-Grille Beach, a resort town just outside Tampa

Two weeks at the Palms Hotel in Passee-Grille, lying on the beach and dating a blonde hotel guest, had reduced what once seemed to be an ostrich-sized mustering out nest egg down to robin egg size. With no bartender experience and no Judy to advocate my employment, the nightclub management was not interested in hiring me, and with my finances dwindling, I decided to head back home and enroll in Georgia Southwestern College in my hometown of Americus. I later transferred to the University of Georgia and got a job at a funeral home instead of a night club. There was a big difference in the kinds of customers the two businesses cater to.

There are moments in your life when you look back and wonder what would have been different if things had not occurred as they did. I wonder what path my life would have taken if Judy had not gone to New York.