With the baby cradled in Marina’s arms, the Oswalds made their way up to the deck. Lee’s tension returned, and he peered anxiously from side to side, looking for policemen. Someone was looking for him, but it was not the police. It was Spas T. Raikin, Russian-born representative of the Travelers’ Aid Society, which had been alerted by the Department of State. By the time Mr. Raikin got on board, he found that the Oswalds had cleared Immigration. He had Lee Oswald paged by loudspeaker several times, but no one answered. As Raikin phrased it a few days later in his report: “I had the impression that he was trying to escape meeting anybody.”[1]
The Oswalds, meanwhile, engulfed in the chaos of the pier, were waiting to go through customs. Marina did not like the way the customs officers tore open the luggage of rich and poor alike, exposing possession—and poverty—to view. Otherwise, she was luxuriating in the adventure of arrival. She was pleased that it was raining. Rain meant good luck for her. Likewise the fact that it was June 13: thirteen was her lucky number. As for her husband, Marina noticed he was no longer nervous, only a bit depressed. In Russia he had boasted that reporters would meet them when they arrived in America. Now he declared emphatically: “Thank God there are no reporters!” He also said that he hoped his mother would not be there.
It was on the crowded dock that Raikin found them. He guided them through customs and out to a Travelers’ Aid limousine, asking questions all the way. Even in this short span of time, Lee managed to tell quite a few lies, among them that he had been a Marine stationed at the US embassy in Moscow when he met and married Marina, that he had renounced his American citizenship, and that he had paid the family’s entire transportation to New York. He added that he had $63 in his pocket and was headed for his brother’s home in Texas. His brother would be unable to help him with the fare. Lee accepted the Travelers’ Aid offer of help, Raikin noted, “with confidence and appreciation.”[2]
From Hoboken the Oswalds were taken to the Port Authority Bus Terminal at 41st Street and thence, by cab, to the Special Services office of the New York City Department of Welfare, on Franklin Street. They were greeted by a Polish-speaking woman, who gave them coffee and apologized to Marina that the worker who spoke Russian was not in that day. Marina was surprised, to put it mildly, that in an hour or two in New York she had already met a Russian, Mr. Raikin, and now a Pole who was apologizing that there was no one there to speak to her in her native tongue.
The Special Services office was the scene of a confrontation between Lee and members of the Department of Welfare. Told that the Oswalds had no funds, an official of the department, in routine fashion, called Lee’s next of kin, Robert, to ask him to furnish $200 for airfare for Lee and Marina from New York to Dallas–Fort Worth. Vada Oswald, Robert’s wife, answered the phone. She promised to contact her husband and have the money sent immediately. When Lee was informed, he was “quite angered, really very upset.” He “stomped around” and refused to accept his brother’s money.[3] It was up to the Department of Welfare to pay the fare, he said. The members of the department stood firm; by law the department was required to ask friends or relatives to meet such expenses if they could. Finally, Lee accepted their decision.
Marina had absented herself to breastfeed the baby. Unable to understand English, she missed most of the scene, but she surmised that Lee was misleading the department about how much money he had. To her the mere fact that he claimed to have only $63 was prima facie evidence that he had more, since “how could he live without lying?” She knew that he had had nearly $200 when he left Moscow and had spent hardly any of it since. Moreover, he had warned her on shipboard not to answer any questions about how much money they had. He wanted them, he said, to pay for everything, although he did not say who “they” were.
The Oswalds were taken to the Times Square Hotel, a large, dingy building located at Eighth Avenue and 43rd Street. Lee actually volunteered to pay the bill. He deposited Marina and the baby in their room and quickly vanished, promising to bring them something to eat.
The first thing Marina noticed was how dirty the room was. “Ten dollars a day and such filth,” she said to herself. She switched on the radio and decided to take a bath. But the letters on the faucets, “H” and “C,” were unfamiliar to her, and she decided to wait for her husband after all. She longed to look out the window. But between her and the view there were Venetian blinds, which she had never seen before, and they were black with soot. She snatched a washcloth and started to scrub them. She was still at it when her husband returned.
He brought hamburgers and French fries, another new experience for Marina. Nervous yet elated, he placed a call to Robert and Vada in Fort Worth. Marina was fascinated to hear him speak English on the telephone. He handed her the phone and told her to say something to Vada.
“Hi, Vada,” said Marina, blushing and incredulous to be speaking “English” for the first time.
Afterward Lee explained about the faucets, and “hot” and “cold” became Marina’s first words of English.
She took a bath and washed the baby’s swaddling cloths. Then the three of them set off for Times Square. It was ten o’clock at night, the city was just waking up, and Marina was enraptured. With its air of nocturnal excitement, New York reminded her of her beloved Leningrad. And yet it was unlike Leningrad, too. The stores were brilliantly lit, and Marina had never seen so much to buy. She was riveted by the window displays and stopped to “oh” and “ah” in front of every one. To purchase these things, she supposed, you had to know somebody, had to have special connections. Oh no, Lee assured her, you didn’t need any connections. The only thing you had to have was money. Grinning at her enjoyment, he steered her into a Japanese shop and bought her a pair of sandals. Then they spotted a flock of Russian tourists, as round eyed and incredulous as Marina. At the sight and sound of them, certain that she had seen her last Russian for all time, Marina was more incredulous still. They went to a food counter to eat, then back to the hotel, tired and happy.
The next morning, June 14, Lee returned to the Franklin Street office of the Department of Welfare and, accompanied by a department representative, went to a nearby Western Union office to collect the $200 sent by Robert. At the West Side Air Terminal, on Tenth Avenue and 42nd Street, he bought two tickets for Delta Flight 821. The cost was $183.04. Lee, Marina, and the baby flew to Texas from Idlewild Airport.
Marina was delighted by the smooth flight, even by the uniforms the stewardesses wore. But again she was troubled by the stares of her fellow passengers, who were intrigued by the sight of a swaddled baby. Marina had no idea that swaddling was strange to anyone. She was aware only that the people around her were better dressed than she and that they were staring. She shrank inwardly. She and the baby must look like beggars, she thought again.
Robert and Vada, their four-year-old daughter Cathy, and their baby son Robert Lee met them when their plane touched down at Love Field. The two brothers had last seen each other not quite three years before.
“What? No photographers or anything?” Lee greeted Robert as he swung jauntily through the gate. He asked again as soon as they were settled in Robert’s car: Had Robert had any calls from reporters?