It was a wonderful warm Saturday evening in June, 1966. We were exhausted, but every bit of our long day had been fun. But now it was over and time to go back to my home.
 
We got off the subway at Battery Park, and walked to South Ferry on Whitehall Street. I was always thrilled to have my evenings end with a ride on the Staten Island Ferry - the cheapest and best 25 minute, five mile boat trip, in the world. And the thrill of again going by the lit up Statue of Liberty, and Ellis Island, where we knew we were sharing an experience that had happened to both sets of our grandparents when they had first come to America, was very special.

We boarded the ferry, which was quite crowded for so late at night, and rather than trying to find seats, we walked around to the front deck to get the best view of New York Bay.

“Jeanie,” my sister Judy said, “I think somebody is following us.”

Judy was new to New York - her first visit - and I had lived in New York City (because although Staten Island is more like a small town it is officially part of New York City) for almost a year. I had made the trip into Manhattan perhaps 25 times in the past 11 months, quite often at night after concerts or plays. Sure, there are lots of strange looking people, and I thought she was just nervous, but I didn’t want to upset her by not taking her worries seriously.

“What do you mean?”

“That little man over there,” she whispered, pointing at a short stocky man of middle age - who was standing somewhat behind us. He was dressed in grey slacks and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was carrying something in a bag.

“Why do you think he is following us?”

“He was in the same car on the subway. And he kept looking at us then, too. I’m scared.”

Judy is a year and a bit older than me, but strangely enough, in many aspects of life, I had proven myself to be braver than her. For instance, she's scared of flying, and I think it's a wonderful experience.
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But I wanted to reassure her that we had nothing to fear from the man so I said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

The ferry is the quickest transport from Staten Island to Manhattan, as the alternative would be to drive through the island, across the Verrazano Narrows Bridge into Brooklyn, and then through Brooklyn across another bridge into Manhattan itself, which would take well over an hour even when the traffic was at its easiest. So the ferry, which first came into service in 1817, was a necessary link for we people on the island. The ferry vessels went across twice an hour. The advertising poster said they gave 65,000 people a ride each day, that meant that a single trip would average about 1350 travellers.

The ferry had mostly standing space, with a few benches for those who needed a seat and were lucky enough to get there early. So by walking upstairs, we were faced with a similar size area, similarly furnished, and just about as full. We walked quickly, but Judy was not happy.

“He’s following us!”

And so he was. There seemed to be no doubt at all now that this man, for whatever reason he might have, was stalking us. Perhaps it was a game for him - trying to scare young women. Perhaps he really did have sinister intentions. Would the two of us be able to overcome him if he did try to do something to us? I didn’t really have any firm idea about what this mysterious something was that he might want to do to us, but I really doubted that we would be a match for him - as he looked very strong, despite not being very tall.

He didn’t look sinister - or particularly frightening in himself. It was his persisting in being where we were that was worrying me now too.

“Let’s go over and stand by that policeman,” I said. So we moved close to a policeman, but we didn’t feel that we had any right telling him that the man was bothering us. So far all he had done was to go where we were. Surely there was no law against that.

But as the trip across the bay was now getting close to the terminus - St George’s Ferry Terminal on Richmond Terrace, I thought that it would be best if we had a plan for when we were not situated quite so conveniently close to a policeman.

“Let’s get back downstairs and get as close to the exit as possible,” I said. “Then when we get off the boat, we can run as fast as we can for the bus lanes. We surely will lose him then.”

We rushed back downstairs and pushed as close as we could to the front of the line of people waiting to disembark. But guess who was right behind us!

The ferry got slower and slower, and finally it bumped its way into its proper position. Then the end piece raised and the crowd pushed its way forward and out of the boat.

As soon as we touched dry land, I pulled Judy with me, and we ran as fast as we have ever run before, through the terminal building, and down the hall at the end which led to the alleys where the dozens of busses awaited the ferry clients to take them to various parts of the island.

He started running too. I looked over my shoulder and he was maybe 100 yards behind, but running hard.