A Life Lived Through My Eyes: The Fritz Lang Story: Part Two of Chasing My Dreams

By Fritz Lang

Volume 2 is a continuation of volume 1, where a young boy named Fritz was growing up in Germany during and after World War II. Volume 2 begins in 1962 with him stepping off of an ocean liner, the SS Bremen, as a young man of twenty-four in New York City Harbor, ready to experience the adventure of a lifetime! As you will see, as a greenhorn, he had to overcome some challenging hurdles in order to enjoy the sweet fruits of life.

After 2 years of working long hours in the construction industry, he started his own company and in 1966 built a houseboat 36 feet long by 12 feet wide. In 1970, he married a Scottish woman. Two years later, he had a son named Darren and shortly after that started the Frilan Co. Inc., a wholesale distribution business, which supplied colonial wood products to about 150 lumberyards. However, skyrocketing inflation rates in the 1970s had a negative impact on many businesses which struggled to survive. In 1974, he built his house in Dutchess County, New York, and began building churches all over the United States. He also revived his acting hobby. He took some college courses and got back into the entertainment industry, performing in movies and television, just as he had done when he was a young man in Germany.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098065805

Book preview

cover.jpg

A Life Lived Through My Eyes

The Fritz Lang Story: Part Two of Chasing My Dreams

Fritz Lang

Copyright © 2020 by Fritz Lang

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The End and the Beginning of a Journey

The Time in the Bronx

The Westchester County Years!

The Dutchess County Years

Dedication

Idedicate volume 2 of my story to my dear sister Liselotte, who is not only my sister but a lifelong friend. She is one of a kind, very dedicated to her family and friends. You can always count on her support no matter how difficult your situation may seem, and when you seek her advice, she sees things with a fresh pair of eyes, giving you a new perspective and renewed hope of live.

Acknowledgments

As pecial thanks to Lisa Taurence who supported me with her literary knowledge throughout the book.

Thank you for taking the time to read this book. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am currently working on volume 3, which will be a continuation of volume 2. I look forward to sharing many more of my exciting adventures with you and hope you will continue to follow my life’s journey.

Foreword

by Walter Engelke

Fritz Lang has worn many hats during his chase of the ‘American Dream’; He was a cabinet maker, carpenter and Construction Project Manager, as well as a builder of churches, houseboats and Fine Custom Homes. In addition to being a world traveler, and sometime gambler, he was also an international Tour Promoter, artist, actor and, of course, author. My favorite role of his is that of being my Uncle Fritz. All his titles have included adventures which he documents in this work and yours truly was along for the ride during many of them. I hope you enjoy reading about these exploits as much as I enjoyed being a part of them.

The End and the Beginning of a Journey

Hi, I’d like to introduce myself. In case you did not read volume 1, my name is Fritz Lang, and this is volume 2, a continuation of my first book. It was December 13, 1962, when I entered the United States of America from Germany. I had traveled by boat on a ship named the TS Bremen . My hope was that I become as good of an American citizen as I was a German one.

There I was, stepping down from the ship that had docked in New York Harbor. I was greeted with open arms by my sister Lilo (short for Liselotte) and my brother-in-law Fred. There had been some frost the night before because I saw a coating of ice on the ship’s railing and windows earlier that morning. The sun was penetrating through the slightly overcast sky, and it suddenly didn’t seem as cold, especially after the warm greetings.

After we were finished greeting each other, Fred and I went to fetch my overseas trunk from the pier’s harbor master. Years later, I recall Fred saying that I looked very disappointed when I saw that his station wagon was not a new one. It could be that I was remembering the nice new station wagon that Herold, my sister Ingeborg’s brother-in-law, had. Yes, Herold always was a show-off. In the nineteen fifties, he had a new station wagon with real wood on the outside, shipped from the States to Germany; and since he was in the US military, the shipping was free. So I probably thought that all station wagons in America should look new just like Herold’s did at the time. This is the only explanation I have for acting that way.

As we were loading my bags into the wagon, I recall being very surprised that I hadn’t seen any soldiers since when I lived in Germany, I would always see American soldiers. So I was looking for American soldiers, but there were none in sight. This was my first impression of the great country I had just come to adopt as mine.

After the car was packed, Fred, Liselotte, and I drove to New Rochelle, a suburb of New York City, which at that time, was very rural. In fact, in 1912, New Rochelle was referred to as the Queen City of the Sound. So this would be my new address: 733 Pelham Road, New Rochelle, New York. It didn’t even have a zip code at the time. I remember the telephone number started with the first two letters of the name of the town, NE2-.

The house was an old three-story building in a nice neighborhood. Fred and Lilo were living on the third floor. I recall standing in the kitchen and saying to my sister, Your house is slightly swaying back and forth.

She answered, It’s not the house, it’s you. You’re still feeling the motion from the ship.

When we came up the stairs and entered the apartment, we were standing in the middle of the dining room. This was the only room without a slanted ceiling. Straight ahead was the master bedroom. Before that, to the left, there was a nice-size living room. My room was bigger and better than the one I had in Germany since I shared a room in the basement with my brother. The kitchen had metal cabinets and was not too big; however, it was functional. The bathroom had a tub, and most of the walls were straight. The only complaint we all had was that the windows were old and very drafty, and when you took a bath or shower in the winter, the cold breeze would come through the cracks of the old window frames.

All in all, it was a cozy, comfortable place to live, and since all of us were young at the time, we could easily handle the draft and climb the stairs without any problems. The house belonged to an older German gentleman who was a decorator from the old country. His wife was from Jamaica and ran a bar on the bottom floor. Prior to that, she had worked as a registered nurse. Her name was Chris Albrecht, and she was very friendly. In the evenings, Fred would take me downstairs for a few beers. This was the beginning of my new life in a new world.

Fred was a house painter by trade, so after a day or so, he took me along to a job that he had, which was in a very nice upscale neighborhood. The homeowners were in Florida for the winter. Since I was not a painter, Fred had me scrape the cracks from the plaster walls and ceiling. It was a messy job but was short-lived because during this time, we were looking for work for me as a cabinetmaker. There were many different job openings, but after checking them out, Fred thought the pay was too low and was therefore not acceptable. Some wages were as low as $1.20 per hour. Even gas was only 25¢ per gallon at the time, and a glass of beer, depending on the size, was between 5 and 10¢ per glass.

There was a boat builder at the sound in Mamaroneck, New York, named Director. I was just a greenhorn at the time (that’s what they called the newcomers). He had us make small dovetail boxes that were used as drawers in the boats’ cabins. However, as I later learned from my friend Peter, who was also a boat builder by trade, he had no intention of hiring any of us. Peter knew this, as he had been through the same process.

On weekends, Fred would take us for a drive. The first weekend, we went to the Bronx to Meager Avenue, where Uncle Gustav, Aunt Charlotte, and their son, Conrad, lived. They were the last exit off Interstate 95 before you entered the Throgs Neck Bridge. They lived in a red brick row house that had about eight houses in the row. Each one had a first and second floor and a basement that had an entrance to the garage located in the back.

There was a small garden in the back, about fifteen feet wide and fifteen feet deep (4.50 meters by 4.50 meters). I was told that every spring, for many years, Uncle Gustav planted the garden. He was not very tall, only about five feet four inches, and was very friendly, always with a joke up his sleeve. Aunt Charlotte was quite a bit taller, about five feet eight inches, and a fine person also. Conrad was about twenty years old and slightly taller than his father. They were a fine family. Uncle Gustav and Aunt Charlotte spoke German since they both came to America from Germany at a young age. Conrad understood German but did not speak it very often. I did not speak English at all, just a few words and not very well.

The following weekend, we drove to Manhattan. The trip was for pleasure but job-related as well since I was still unemployed. Fred had spoken to a construction manager who wanted to meet me. He looked at me and wanted to see my hands. After a brief look, he shook his head, indicating thank you, but no.

The Time in the Bronx

Throgs Neck Area!

At that time, the trade unions were very strong, especially in the New York City area, so Fred suggested that I join the union. There was a shortage of cabinetmakers back then, and I found a job in the Bronx on 121 st Street. But there was only one problem: I had no way of getting there. I lived in New Rochelle and didn’t have a car.

After a short search, we asked Uncle Gustav and Aunt Charlotte if they had a free room since in the past, they had rented a room to different people, including Fred when he first came to this country. I was in luck and could stay at their house. To top it all off, the union workers in the cabinetmaker’s shop all spoke German!

Getting from home to the wood shop was very challenging. In the morning, I would get a ride from Uncle Gustav to the bus station. Well, I should say close to the bus station. He would drop me off across from the bus station on Bruckner Boulevard. Then I would have to fight my way across the Boulevard during the busy rush hour. After a short bus ride, I would take the train to 125th Street and would walk four blocks to 121st Street, where the shop was. At that time, the Bronx was not the best neighborhood to be walking through by yourself.

Salvation Army Poughkeepsie, N Y, 1979

Since it was early in the morning, there was not much traffic on the road. The wood shop had secured a contract to do a big job for the stock exchange offices. We were to replace the existing wall paneling with fireproof paneling. This was a long process. After the paneling was cut to size and fitted together, they would put it in a solution to make it fireproof. After this process was completed, the paneling was finished in a walnut shade. The office rooms were about ten feet high. I enjoyed working at the company. I had a good relationship with my coworkers and was well-liked by them. The only downside was that the job only lasted six months, and since I was one of the last to be hired, I was the first to go.

I was searching the German newspaper States Herold Zeitung for a new job and within a few days found one located in Flushing, New York. I spoke to the boss on the phone and found out that it, again, was a German-speaking woodshop. The pay was less than my salary at my previous job because it was a nonunion shop, but I was just happy to have found work at all.

Now, I was still living at the same place, but my work location had changed. So Uncle Gustav continued to take me to the bus station in the morning. But since I had to travel over the Whitestone Bridge to get to Flushing, Uncle Gustav would drop me off on the westbound side of Bruckner Boulevard, and then I would have to make my way over to the eastbound side during morning rush hour traffic. This was a challenging feat even for a young person! You would have to wait until there was a red light someplace so that the traffic would slow down. After crossing the first road, you would now be in the middle. By this time, the light would be green, and so the whole thing would