Wonderful Story - "Moving to St Thomas in 1965"

I received an e-mail today from someone that wanted to contribute a moving story based on a move made in 1965. The author wrote: "I read the first 4 stories on your website under "what to expect" and it took me back 40 years to 1965 when we moved to St Thomas. I think everyone would be surprised to learn that things haven't changed all that much except there are more people, more congestion etc. now. The frustrations appear to be the same."

I took them up on the offer and was very excited to receive and read the story. Here it is:

Moving to St. Thomas in 1965

"I found this absolutely wonderful website about moving to the Virgin Islands and began reading the personal stories of people who had moved to the various islands over the last few years.

After reading 4 of them I simply had to stop and begin to jot down my recollections of moving to St Thomas in 1965. Not an awful lot has changed in 40 years, apparently, especially the confounding routine of getting a vehicle registered. Sounds like the same shacks are used.

My beatnik husband had a beard. In Virginia in 1964 that meant he was automatically followed around by police because a beard meant “different.” He was even followed into the parking lot of the school where I taught, as if he were a drug dealer or worse! When he had left the Marine Corps he had decided he’d never shave again!

He simply could not stand it and would not shave his beard in order to get a permanent job when his temporary federal job as a surveyor expired, so we began researching places we might be able to move to where they 1) spoke English 2) had a more liberal view of life than Virginia had 3) was accessible to the east coast of the states in case we wanted to return for a visit 4) where we could both find employment immediately.

After doing sketchy research (long before the days of the internet) and waiting for months for responses to letters written to the Dept. of Education (which letter included misspellings and erasures) we decided St Thomas was the place for us. I had received a pamphlet about nutrition and what was recommended that teachers consider when they look at their students on the first day of school, knowing the students might not be as alert as they could be had they eaten a full breakfast. Most children would have had a hot breakfast which meant hot tea and a piece of bread . The tea might be hot water with sugar in it. And the water woud have been heated on a coal pot.

We wanted to live on a boat, be able to associate with blacks, and meet like minded “continentals” as people of any race from the states were called. We were able to do those 3 things.

I was offered a job as a music teacher with a two or three year contract (isn’t that weird? It was not for two years and not for three years). The government paid our transportation, including shipping our vehicle, up to a certain monetaryvalue. We had to turn in receipts for the airline tickets and shipping expenses and in about a month we had the money reinbursed. That was also about the time the vehicle and boxes arrived. None of this “my stuff arrived in 3 days” back then. Likewise, they would pay our way BACK to the states after either two or three years, as if they expected we would not really stay! And families that did not live on boats, but had to pay rent, absolutely could not afford to stay.

Our first day on the island was wonderful. After arriving in a 10 seater aircraft which did not contain our luggge, even though we’d had a 3 hour layover in San Juan, the black taxi driver we used looked me straight in the eye, did not smile obsequiously , and I knew I’d love it here (in Virginia in those days a black person averted meeting eyes with a white person and always smiled in an Uncle Tom way).

The trade winds were blowing and although it was quite hot in August, we did not need air conditioning in the Scott Hotel where we stayed until we found an apartment. We had an interesting time there talking to Mr. Scott. Our accommodations came with a full breakfast. The first morning we were presented with a menu with the choices listed and ordered our bacon and eggs etc. and were very satisfied. The second day our menu had prices on it. We called this to Mr. Scott’s attention when we checked out, and he pretended that there had been no free breakfast the first day, as if one of his employees had made an error and slipped us a free breakfast. Welcome to the duplicity of the Virgin Islands! One menu for tourists (which we were on our first night) and then a menu for locals, which he found out we were to be the second day.???

We loved a restaurant in Palm Passage where we could get fresh grouper. It was there that I asked if they had chocolate syrup to put on ice cream for dessert and they said, no, but why not try creme de cacao? Yea!

There was one grocery store down town called Lucy’s which was native run. They happened to have a product that Pueblo did not have, and the word got around among the continentals. It was such a popular product that one day the shelf was empty and we enquired, preceded by “Good day” of course, when might we expect them to have more cans of it. The proprietor, busy dusting shelves said “I’ve decided not to carry it. I can’t keep it on the shelf. it's too much work to try.” Welcome to the VI work ethic.

We may not have had a McDonalds, but we had Orange Julius and the Crazy Cow, our consessions to fast food. Actually, at that time, fast food was just becoming the rage in the states. It was a cheap alternative to Sebastian’s on the Waterfront for a meal.

Since our vehicle had not arrived, we had to live close enough to Charlotte Amalie High School for me to walk there, so lived in Estate Thomas. I could walk to Pueblo (Grand Union was not yet built) and to school.

Since the apartments all had open jalosie type windows, when the radio station signed off at 11 p.m. the whole island became quiet! Then when they signed on in the morning, it was like an alarm clock which we didn’t have. I guess the roosters would have awakened us about the same time that the radio station did.

The first month there I got a “cold” and went to the doctor directly accross the street from the school. He gave me the usual medications, but said nothing about wrapping up and keeping warm. I asked should I not do that and he replied, “You're not up north any more. I think it’s warm enough without wrapping up.” Adjustment made.

Since we had no car for a while, we walked over the mountain to get to town because it was fewer steps than going around on the waterfront. But we huffed and puffed and sweated to do so. We passed the “dangerous” shack town next to the school and kids would wave. We were safe because I was a teacher. We did meet many continentals of all races, and natives as well, although the natives were not as open to real friendships. I had the advantage of the teacher’s lounge to make friends, however.

I brought with me stockings and garter belt (this was before panty hose) because that is what teachers wore. I nearly suffocated. Zora the sandalmaker convinced me to go native, and I disposed of the stockings and garter belt and went bare legged and was much more comfortable. Naturally I did not wear any heels, either. I never wore a sweater, or anything with long sleeves, even during the “Christmas winds” sitting in Trader Dan’s or the Carrousel on the Waterfront. I understand those two establishments are no longer there. I do not even remember any dresses with sleeves. Tradewinds or no, it was hot in the sun. The humidity was so great that my hair was “kinky” at all times, although I am caucasian. if it ever did get below 80, we'd just go inside.

When our vehicle arrived we moved up Contant to a plantation house by the Mill (Sukker House). The first night I kept being awakened. I’d turn the light on and see hermit crabs climbing the rock wall of the cistern. While I was up I noticed a chameleon on the wall which was white, so he was white. Then I saw him on the wood and he was brown. When it first rained hard I saw my first “ground spider” in my kitchen sink. Shudder shudder. My shoes became mildewed. But outside my door were papaya trees, so who cared. It was there that we had our first hurricane party. People who lived at sea level where there could be flash flooding came up and camped out with us, but when the booze ran out, drunkenly got in the jeep and drove to town for refills. And the stores were still open, too. I learned the alcoholics way of thinking of "first things first." Why do I mention alcoholics on a website for people wanting to move to the VI? Because the duty free booze attracts them and they stay until they die.

There was one department store on the island, a native owned, quite large, shop called Lockhart’s and it sat right on Main Street. If Lockhart’s didn’t have it you’d have to order through the Sears catalog store. And it took about 6 weeks for merchandise to arive.

One of the funny things I’ve never heard anyone else mention is that in order to get a library card you must have a reference from a native born person. For me this was not difficult to obtain in the teacher’s lounge, but it’s another of those things you’d probably have to ask your landlord to do (if you are lucky enough to have a native landlord).

When a 35’ boat came on the market we snapped it up and moved to Yacht Haven. There was the YH motel in front, and the marina in back. What was our unpaved parking lot is now Haven Sight. So in those days cruise ship passengers had to come into town for their duty free merchandise. The public Manasseh bus stop was right there, so I could ride it if it were raining andi needed to get to town. I did ride the full route of the bus around the island once to orient myself and listen to people’s speech.

Oh yes, Don Q rum cost .79 a liter at Pueblo on sale. Cruzan rum was regularly $1.25. Mount Gay was expensive to us, $2.75, as was any scotch. The flour in the first package of Chef Boyardee pizza I bought was full of mold. But you could buy a can of caviar for the same price. And Dutch butter!!

As a continuing education for teachers, we had a guest for a week who was a speech specialist. She was very alert to every accent in the room. She asked if there were any former occupancy language still evident. There was an ancient native male teacher in the class who could tell us maybe three words from the Danish days before the US purchased the islands in 1917 when he was a child. But these words were not commonly used. Likewise, today I imagine there's none even remembered.

You’ve probably read that you do not pay taxes to the US federal IRS, but rather to the Dept. of Finance. The first year it is a little confusing because you have to report your stateside earned income (in my case, January through July income) separately from your VI earned income. So there are two filings to be done. I filed and received a $90 refund. Later in the year I received a letter from the Dept of Finance threatening to do awful things to me because I had not filed my income tax. I quickly wrote back something on the order of , “If I didn’t file, then why did you give me a $90 refund?” This is not at all an isolated example of the inefficiency in VI government. If you ever encounered an efficient government worker, you took note of his/her name and asked all questions, regardless of subject matter, of him/her. Otherwise you might get the run around, or a wrong answer, or occasionally, if you forgot to say, "Good morning, " the cold shoulder, litterally, turning away and ignoring you.

As it turned out I taught for two years but then stayed on the island and worked for Antilles Airboats for another year before moving to Spain for 9 months. Sure enough, even though I was not currently employed by the Dept. of Ed. they still reimbursed us our travel expenses because my contract had said two OR three years!!

We were owed money by a contractor in St Thomas, but we never received any payment, so had to return, thinking we’d take about 3 weeks to collect it. We stayed for 4 more years and never collected it. I'd already lived in VI for 3 years, wonder why i thought I'd be able to collect? The debtor also had our truck, but we did get that back. It’s not only frustrating to live there, but it’s hard to leave, as well.

Having worked for Antilles, I’d get discount airline tickets which we would use to fly to Spain to visit our friends there. On one such trip we purchased a house so had somewhere to move to when we finally got our act together and left the island.

When the Yacht Haven showers for boaters started being overtaken by who knows who, we moved across the harbor to Avery’s Boat Yard which was walking distance to Antilles Airboats. Much more peaceful there.

In preparationn for moving we sold our boat. “The Pinafore” from Copenhagen is now a bar on the east end, I understand. On one of my visits (1980 maybe) I gave the proprietors a photo of it when it was a freighter in Denmark that the Danish lady we purchased it from had given to us. They in turn gave me a nice artist’s rendition of the boat as a bar.

Am I glad I lived in St Thomas? Yes, of course. There is nothing like sailing with friends on a Tortola sloop or catamarand, or going to remote and deserted beaches near friends’ homes, or taking your dog for a romp on a public beach after dinner. And of course the exposure to another culture so foreign to state side minds was eye opening and prepared me for meeting other situations later in life.

It’s certainly something you can do more easily when young, but it’s your decision as to whether you stay. I think everyone who is planning to move needs to know the negatives of which I spoke.

I have been back twice to see old friends, (1980 and 1990) but would never consider living there again. Why? The constant obstinacy evident in almost every St Thomian’s daily statement “I are born here” which he/she thought was demonstrating self pride, and it therefore exempted him from every law and courtesy (like being able to stop his vehicle on the waterfront, boom, smack in the middle of traffic, to carry on a conversation with someone in the oposing lane), never mind that he might be causing an accident or two. As Herman Wouk said in Don’t Stop the Carnival, there are two speeds in the islands, slow and stop."