My parents moved from the Bronx to Oregon in 1948. My father had failed to make partner in his Wall Street law firm, so he went to work for the District Attorney in Portland. While his first jobs were routine, he joined the legal profession at a good time in the West. Here, unlike the East, there wasn’t a surplus of attorneys.
Being more than short on money, my parents(I was left with my grandparents–hence all those photos of me with them) drove across the country in this car. Again, without funds for hotels, they camped by the side of the car as they went. My mother is sitting with their dog, and I can see a Coleman lantern to her side.
They were astonished on the last leg of the trip to take the Columbia River Gorge Highway which had just been completed before the war by the W.P.A.(government funded public works for the unemployed in the Depression.) It clung to the side of the gorge, winding up and down along the mighty–as yet undammed–Columbia River.
Although Interstate 80 runs along the thrice dammed river now, there are still wonderful remnants of the old highway which give access to the hikes up the gorge. I parked along it often as an adult, setting off on nearly vertical trails to the top. Fortunately, as they say, “it was all downhill from there!”