The following morning I followed his directions and reached the American Can Company factory at 7:00 AM. The sidewalk was full of people. I kept listening and finally I heard the Greek language. I approached an elderly person and asked respectfully in Greek "Uncle, I need a little information and some help from you if it's possible." I explained to him that I was a new arrival, that I didn't know any one, and that I wanted to get a job. The man, frankly and sincerely, told me that he would like to help, but that he was only a janitor. I asked him if he had any suggestions as to what I should do. He responded by saying that at 7:30 the whistle will blow, the doors will open and most of the people outside who are working will go to their respective stations. Those who seek employment will stay outside in the anteroom. If any of the various foremen from the sections are looking for people to hire they will come out and call them, and for me to wait there as long as I possibly could.

The whistle blew, the doors opened, the people who worked went inside while those who were looking for employment waited in the anteroom. There were approximately 25 or 30 men waiting. A few minutes afterwards, one by one, the others started leaving. By 8:00 o'clock everybody had left except me. The reason I didn't leave is because I didn't know where to go or what to do. A few minutes later I saw the old man to whom I had spoken on the sidewalk and I asked him what I should do. He told me that since I had nowhere to go to stay there. There was still a chance that someone would need a worker.

About a half-hour later a man came and motioned to me to follow him. I did and we went into a nearby office. He kept talking to me and asking me questions, but I did not understand a word he said, and of course I couldn't answer his questions.

From all indications he saw that he had a man who didn't know a word of English so he left me and went about his way. I stepped out of the office and waited in the anteroom again. Three minutes later another person approached me and started talking but the only thing I could say was "Greek" and "job." He likewise left, but fortunately for me, a few minutes later he returned. He had with him a Greek-American who was a foremen in the plant and who spoke to me in Greek. He said to me in Greek, "Do you want to work?" and my answer was "Yes, thank you." Then he said, "We will be paying you one dollar per day, for eight hours work." Having been trained in Greece to bargain for everything that people buy or sell whether it is work or merchandise, I wanted to do a little bargaining. Something told me, instinctively, that if I were smart, I should say "yes" and not ask for any more because I had no reason to ask for more since I knew nothing. So, I accepted his offer.

He then took me into his office and asked my name, my address, the year, the day and the month I was born. I answered all these questions, but for the benefit of the reader, I knew the year I was born, but as for the month or the day, I did not know them and still don't know them today. I told him that I was born on the 17th of May in the year of 1893. By coincidence the date had significance in future years when I met my present wife. She was born in Norway and Norwegian Independence Day is May 17th. To me, up to this day, it seems like it was out of the clear sky, out of mighty providence, that I picked out the very month and day which turned out to be the Independence Day of the country where my wife was born.

Later I wrote to my parents to find the definite month and day to correct the records. But, since in the villages in those days priests kept baptismal records and birthdays were not recorded, I got no answer. This was probably because parents wanted to postpone the date of their son's entry into military service for their sons. At any rate, I was never able to establish my correct birth date and it has remained, as a matter of record, that I was born in the year of 1893, on May 17.

When I started to work I was placed in front of a machine where cans of fruit and vegetables are packed and put in crates. The crates were about three feet long and three feet high. I was to pile them three high. I had never done manual labor and I was weak. Before the day was finished, I thought I was going to die. And again the old man who was the janitor came to my rescue. I went to him and told him that I thought I would die, that I thought I would never keep up with this type of work. His advice to me was that no person of my age died of hard work. He told me that no matter how hard it was, if I wanted to work, I'd better stick with it and eventually they would move me out of there and give me another type of work.

Immediately afterwards I wrote to two friends who lived in Bay Point. I told them they should move to San Francisco and secure employment in the same factory where I worked. After they arrived we succeeded in renting a flat off Eighth Street above Folsom. We learned to cook, to wash clothes, to make beds and all the other skills that are necessary for a person who hasn't got the money to live in better circumstances and to hire a woman to do the work.

Shortly thereafter I inquired and found a Greek-American who was giving private English lessons for people who were new to this country and eager to learn English. I figured that night school would be a slow process for me and I was anxious to be able to understand what people were talking to me about and to be able to answer them. He proved to be a very good teacher and within a three-month period I had learned the fundamentals of English grammar and other skills that help a person converse. It was really the only schooling that I had for learning as far as English is concerned. The rest of it came by contact with and speaking with American people. Another time I went to night school for about two or three weeks, but the going was too tough with the hours of work I was doing at that time, so I gave it up.

I was now working at the American Can Company, going to school at night with the private teacher and still trying to save a little money. The rent was cheap and the cost of living was cheap. It only cost five cents for lunch every day at the saloon next to the factory where I was working. That included a large glass of beer and cold meats. I knew that it would take me a long time before I would realize my dream to save $2,000 and to return to Kalamata.