When I returned to Macati, I learned that the Spaniard whom I worked for had sold his brick interest and moved out of Manila. The brick factory was not operating due to heavy inventory.

     I then remembered Melicia, Grandma's niece who had a hat and embroidery factory. She and her family lived in Pasay and I did not have any trouble finding her home. She had a factory but it had burned recently, and she had not yet built another one.

     Melicia was still in the embroidery business. Most of her trade was aboard passenger ships and at the local hotels. She had a pass to board the passenger ships, where she displayed her wares. She also had permission from the hotel management to solicit trade among the guests.

     I was offered the job of carrying the boxes of merchandise to the hotels and aboard ships in exchange for my keep and spending money. I would attend night school, also. The only night high school was in the walled city of Manila, a ten minute trolley ride from Pasay. I accepted the offer and moved out of my Macati home.

     Cousin Melicia did not have an automobile, so we always took a caromata from Pasay to the piers and to the hotels. Her business was irregular. One day, we would not make a single sale; then another day, I would have to return to Pasay to get more merchandise.

     In the big hotels, like the Manila Hotel and the Luneta Hotel, she was very well known to the employees, particularly the housekeepers. I suspected she was paying them for touting her business to the hotel guests because, invariably, before we left the hotels she would see them.

     Besides helping her in her business, I did most of the laundry and cooking for her large family. My first year in high school started, and though Melicia was not giving me much money, I was contented.

     I enjoyed going aboard the passenger ships most because I had a chance to talk with men who had been in America and other countries. I listened to their stories of opportunities that I could not find in my native land. My desire and ambition to migrate to the United States was foremost in my plans. My frequent contact with Americans and ships' crew members increased my desire so that I even thought of stowing away on a ship. I did not mention to Melicia my obsession with leaving my native country, however.

     One Thursday morning in January 1924, we left for the Manila Hotel as usual. And, as usual, Melicia obtained a list of the new arrivals from the hotel housekeeper. The housekeeper directed us to the room of a newly arrived guest.

     Our knock was answered by a kindly, tall American middle aged man. Dispensing with the usual formalities, he asked us to show our embroideries. He was interested in buying a couple of table settings: tablecloth, napkins, and other pieces. He picked one, the only one of its kind in our stock, and asked if we had another one similar to it. Melicia said we had one at home.

     As the gentleman did not have any plans until after lunch, he graciously allowed me to stay in his room while Melicia was gone to get another set.

     Something immediately attracted me to this kind man. His manner, his speech, and his face and eyes when he spoke had a quality that told me that he was a generous and compassionate man. I began to ask him questions about himself. His kind tolerance and fatherly patience to my questions confirmed my inadequate description of him as a "kind man". In less than an hour, I found out the following:

His name was William G. Hall. He was the General Manager and Vice President of the Honolulu Iron Works of Honolulu, Hawaii. Its subsidiary in Manila was the Ernshaws Docks and Honolulu Iron Works. He normally came to Manila once or twice a year to inspect the sprawling plant. Mr. Hall was married and had a son attending M.I.T. in Boston, and two daughters who attended a private school in Honolulu. One was 17, a junior in high school, and the other 14, in the eighth grade. He had two in residence servants, a Japanese couple: The wife did the housework and cooking, the husband served as yardman, chauffeur, and waiter.

William Garvie Hall was born in Canada, on March 6, 1874. He was the son of Thomas and Catherine (McRae) Hall. In 1901 he married Alice Templeton of Honolulu, and had three children, Donald Templeton, Catherine McRae, and Mary Ellen Hall. - Click to Enlarge.

     The last information was given after I told him my life story and asked him if he would take me with him as a servant and send me to day school and college. I offered to give him all my earnings for the first ten years after I finished college. When he refused my offer, I was not disappointed. I had been hardened by the refusal of other Americans to whom I had made the same offer.

     Melicia returned and Mr. Hall picked out the set he wanted. The sale amounted to several hundred pesos and Mr. Hall paid in American dollars, the first I had ever seen. The sets Mr. Hall bought needed the edges trimmed and he asked Melicia if we could do this for him before he sailed for home on the following Monday. Melicia agreed.

     That evening before I left for school, Melicia called Mr. Hall to tell him that the sets were finished; and, that if he would be in his room within the hour, I would bring them. He said that was a good idea. It would give him time to pack leisurely.

     We had just received our report cards and I had mine with an "A" general average. With my books under one arm and the package of table sets in the other, I entered Mr. Hall's room. Another conversation ensued. He took one of my books and found my report card. He commended me on my scholastic efforts. Again, I brought up the subject of my going home with him. He then told me what I had yearned to hear all those months and when the words were uttered, I could not believe my ears.

     He said that he had been thinking of me since our talk that morning and, if he could find it possible, he would take me with him to Honolulu on Monday. I don't remember how I thanked him for I became speechless. If I failed to say a word of gratitude at the moment, I am sure the tears in my eyes spoke eloquently. He told me to be at the hotel at ten the next day.

     I hardly slept that night and I prepared breakfast for the household of nine people earlier than usual. When Cousin Melicia and her husband woke up, I told them of my possible leaving with Mr. Hall for Honolulu on Monday.

     This was the only time that I can remember being asked not to leave my current home. Melicia tried to dissuade me by reminding me that Honolulu was a different country and that I would be living with people that I did not know and that they would be of a different race. If they mistreated me, I would not have relatives or friends to go to for help. When this line of persuasion did not change my mind, they offered to send me to a day school where I could pursue higher education. Night school in those days offered only commercial courses in high school. No inducements could dissuade me from going with Mr. Hall.

     At the exact appointed time, I was in Mr. Hall's room. He said he needed to make several phone calls to finalize plans for my going with him, then he would send me with his chauffeur to shop for my needs: clothing and such. After shopping, I would go home and wait to meet him at the pier on Monday afternoon at four. The ship, the President Lincoln, would sail at five. When I told him I would like to say goodby to my sisters in Taal and Lemery, he offered me money for the bus trip which I refused.

     I withdrew the rest of my savings from the postal bank and took a bus for Taal. Juaquina was overjoyed at the news that I was going to Honolulu. But, Maria, whom I had lived with longer than any of my other sisters and brothers, was not. I said goodby to my school buddies in Lemery, more in the spirit of braggadocio than anything else. Among boys of my age, to migrate to another country was considered an accomplishment. I also bade adieu to my cousins with whom I had lived for short periods of time. So in the latter part of January 1924, I saw, for the last time, my sisters Juaquina and Maria.

     Returning from Taal Sunday afternoon, I went directly to my Macati family and bid them good bye. Though they were happy for my good fortune, they hated for me to leave our country.