[Un leu, un leu... Ch. 4] My Story About the First American in my Family

This is a continuation of the book "Un leu, un leu", which was published in Romania by my late godfather Bill Edwards. Be sure to follow @robrigo if you enjoy his stories; I'll be publishing them more often from here on out.

The island of Eleuthera, where Uncle Bill's family originated from.

        The first American in my family was Fred Alfred Edwards, my paternal grandfather. Born in Tarpon Bay, British West Indies (BWI) on October 16, 1882, he, according to a document I came across ten years ago, emigrated to the United States in 1900. Ironically, he was my only grandparent I never knew. All others lived until their late eighties. He was lost overboard off a ship in 1919, shortly after he filed his "Declaration of Intention" to become an American citizen. I am enclosing a copy of this document in leu of a photograph of my grandfather, although I know at least one picture of him existed. It was a large oval, torn and yellowing portrait, since lost, of a handsome, rather distant man with a large mustache, hung by the front door of my grandmother's house, she said, "In anticipation of his return." My grandfather's body was never recovered and until her dying day my grandmother expected her husband to walk through the door.

Building the Locks of the Panama Canal

        She told me that he was an excellent cook, and he left Tarpon Bay to seek his fortune as a cook with the company constructing the Panama Canal. My father said he returned with many books on the digging of the Canal. After completion of this project, he worked as a cook on steamships and trains. He was also a cook on the Henry Morrison Flagler project to build the Overseas Highway linking the Florida Keys with the mainland. I was told that on his way to Panama he stopped in Key West, my hometown, and was struck by its beauty and similarity to his homeland and settlement, now called Tarpum Bay, on the island of Eleuthera in the Bahamas. It was at this time I think he made up his mind to bring his wife, my grandmother Alice, to Key West and settle there, thus becoming the first American in my family. At the time of his death, the inquest said accidental drowning, he worked as a cook on a yacht named Mascot, owned by a wealthy family from Pennsylvania. The Mascot had tied up in Tampa, Florida and the owner told my grandfather that as the boat would remain in Tampa some time, there would be no need for him to stay on board. He should take leave and visit his family in Key West. It was on this two-day boat trip that he was lost in the Gulf of Mexico, leaving his wife and three children, my father, uncle, and aunt. My father, 81, was the only of his siblings to have children and I am the only male of those, making my father and me the only two remaining male Edwards' from this line.

Uncle Bill outside of his mother's house in Key West

        Growing up in the forties and fifties, I was asked by my father many times if I wanted to accompany him on trips to Eleuthera to visit relatives. It wasn't until last year that I finally went there, and it was a moving experience walking through cemeteries where I knew my ancestors were buried. I have been a reserve officer in the USAF with the rank of major, served in Vietnam where I was awarded a Bronze Star Medal, have been a civil servant, and am now a foreign service officer with the United States Information Agency (USIA). I have just returned from a two-year assignment as Public Affairs Officer at the US Embassy in Georgetown, Guyana - also an English speaking former British colony - where I found the adjustment to Caribbean people and customs easy, having grown up in a more or less West Indian household. One of my proudest moments though, came when I was assigned as Press Attache at the US Embassy in Bucharest, Romania. I had my grandfather's Declaration of Intention framed and hung in the vestibule of my apartment. One evening while hosting an official reception at which some Romanian government officials attended, I noticed one of them reading the document. I approached him and explained what the paper was. He turned to me and said in Romanian,

"Fantastic! I think only in America can the grandson of an immigrant cook go on to become a diplomat for his country."

Great Great Uncle Edwards' Declaration of Intention

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, be sure to read the rest of Bill's works that are being published exclusively here on Steemit:

• Chapter 1: Four Corners
• Chapter 3: Cat Food in Romania
• Chapter 12: A Tale of Two Rings