The Boeing 707, Trans World Airlines flight #1 enroute around 
the world landed at Guam International several hours before sunrise for a 
short fuel stop before proceeding with its military passengers to Vietnam 
thence to Bangkok and points west as it raced to catch the Sun. 
Disembarking into  the warm, early morning hours that September in 1970 on 
a rain swept tarmac with humidity so thick, it took my breath away, I 
waited for the 6:30 flight to Saipan aboard a four engine D C 6. This was 
my first encounter with an island in the western Pacific. Forty five 
minutes after boarding the ancient aircraft for a destination north of 
Guam, it started its final approach toward a brush lined, unlighted, coral 
airstrip at Saipan International. When approaching the island for the first 
time it loomed out of the sea like a  mirage, a green protruding apparition 
surrounded by a vast expanse of blue sky and water. During the decent my 
thoughts returned to the strange turn of events that  began one evening on 
the shores of North Africa and eventually culminated in my approaching an 
isolated island in the far reaches of the Pacific that I barely remembered 
from World War Two headlines. 
      Until 1944 the Micronesian islands, sprinkled like tiny jewels across 
a vast universe of water, were  known as the Japanese Mandated Islands. 
After the war they were considered  a strategic trust by the U. S. military 
and closed off. 
   A series of buildings were constructed on Capitol Hill around 1953 by 
the Central Intelligence Agency to house staff responsible for training 
certain Asian personnel in the black art of covert activities and guerrilla 
warfare. This activity was undertaken by the top secret U. S. Naval 
Tactical Training Unit, (NTTU).  To this day, I have been unsuccessful in 
filling this “void” in the Northern Mariana’s history and, as a result of 
my research efforts, have been told to “stay out of it as it’s none of my 
business.” In 1962 the CIA closed  the complex and it  became the 
administrative center for managing the affairs of 2,100 islands of which 
100 were inhabited and spread over three million square miles of the 
Pacific.  I believe the NTTU’s departure was the result of a man that 
visited Saipan in search of a local person who may have remembered seeing, 
or hearing, of an American aviatrix rumored  to have been picked up by the 
Japanese and brought to the island after her aborted attempt to fly around 
the world in 1937. In his search for information about Amelia Earhart the 
gentleman stumbled upon the Capitol Hill facility and later mentioned it in 
a book planned for publication which the authorities tried to censor 
failing to realize that Amelia Earhart’s husband was George Putnam of the 
famous Putnam Publishing Company. Curiously, when the book was published 
the secret base was abandoned. However, there is no proof of this. 
      The Northern Marianas was one of six districts throughout Micronesia 
administered from the headquarters of the Government of the Trust Territory 
of the Pacific Islands located on Saipan’s Capitol Hill. From that date the 
islands were administered for the United Nations by the U. S. Department of 
Interior. Those were the days when the Cold War was at its height and every 
two years various members of the United Nation’s Security Council would 
make inspection tours, always accompanied by a Russian member to evaluate 
the American Government’s stewardship of the area. I still recall meeting 
the Russian Ambassador to the U.N. when he visited Saipan and his account 
of the horrifying experiences during the German siege of Stalingrad. But, 
I’m getting ahead of the story. 
    I first became aware of the existence of the islands one evening in a 
village along the Mediterranean Sea as I sat on the balcony of a jasmine 
draped Arab villa savoring the beauty of a golden sunset as it bathed the 
2,500 year old Roman ruins of Carthage, Tunisia, birth place of Hannibal. I 
was reading a 1967 edition of the New Yorker Magazine in which a story 
appeared about a cluster of islands called  the Trust Territory.  A place I 
had never heard of - and now I was about to experience one of them  for the 
first time. 
     The plane flew low over the air strip and I was told that this 
maneuver was a safety measure since there was no control tower and a “fly 
by” was necessary to check the wind direction and scare away any stray dogs 
or cattle that might have wandered onto the weed infested landing path  of 
World War Two’s Isley Field situated at the southern tip of Saipan, (now 
the Koblerville Road). 
     Disembarking from the aircraft I entered a small, dilapidated, sun 
bleached, corrugated tin structure without doors and without glass in open 
air windows. Dogs and cats wandered about freely with little concern for 
those arriving or departing as if waiting  for all the temporary intruders 
to leave so they could  resume their lazy slumber on the floor or upon one 
of several roughly hewn wooden benches. By the late summer of 1970 the 
islands were almost devoid of the amenities of the last quarter of the 
twentieth century - certainly the airport was. 
     Little did I know when I left the terminal that September morning that 
I would spend most of the next 27 years of my life on the island. 
    Renting an automobile for $2.50 a day I started driving on a pot-holed, 
coral road near Agingan Point and turned right and headed northbound on 
another road choked with coral dust which appeared to have remained 
unimproved since the U. S. military left several decades before. Weaving 
first to the right then to the left of the road to avoid the deep, water 
filled craters at a speed of about 20 miles a hour, I noticed that there 
were very few  structures along the way, only weeds, uncut brush, thick 
vines and assorted tropical vegetation. Passing Townhouse market’s quonset 
hut, (now Payless), opposite Carmen’s Safeway Store and continuing north 
toward Susupe and  the 56 room Royal Taga Hotel (where the Diamond now 
stands), very few vehicles were met on the road, maybe five rusted, second 
hand pickups. Here the island’s single stop sign was posted at the exit of 
the Taga Hotel. Passing Joeten’s Shopping Center I later learned that this 
store, facing Beach Road and shaded by a beautiful tree, (which has long 
since been destroyed to provide a single parking spot), was the social 
center of the island. It’s strange that I should remember that tree after 
all these years - but it was huge and magnificent. It was here also that 
one made overseas telephone calls from an RCA booth. In those days long 
distance calls could not be made from one’s residence. 
    From that point, past the Marianas District Administrator's Office, 
(where the Judicial Center is now located), not more than five or six 
ramshacked structures lined Beach Road between the island government 
offices and the Microl intersection. Continuing toward Garapan - even fewer 
buildings were in evidence on either side until reaching the Hafa Adai 
Hotel, the island’s only other hotel which consisted of ten plywood 
bungalows each slightly larger than a shipping container and the hotel’s 
small Japanese restaurant. Facing the Hafa Adi on the other side of the 
road was the future location of M.S. Villagomez store which, years later, 
would be the location of the beautiful DFS building. 
      I distinctly remember one event concerning planned travel to Guam to 
see the newly released film, “The Godfather”, which had been advertised in 
the Guam Daily News  many days in advance. In those days to view a movie on 
Guam one had to purchase an airline ticket, rent a car, stay overnight in 
the Cliff Hotel and eat in a restaurant - all to see a $2 film. I made 
reservations on Air Mike several weeks in advance to reserve seats and then 
followed up every few days to reconfirm my reservations on the 84 seat 
aircraft. Each time I called I was assured that I had indeed, airline seats 
reserved in my name. When the day arrived after anxiously waiting several 
weeks to depart, I went to the air field where, much to my surprise, there 
must have been 400 people all claiming to have seats reserved on that 
particular flight to Guam. I approached my friend who was the airline’s 
station manager as was told that I “couldn’t board as all the seats had 
been sold.”  In complete astonishment I said, “but you told me several 
times over the past few weeks that I had confirmed reservations!”  He said, 
“Bill, I knew the day you first called that you couldn’t go because the 
plane was full - but think - I made you so very happy when you thought you 
were going.” That’s one reason I have always liked the islands - they make 
many days of  happiness - but few of disappointment. 
     In those early days before there was a tourism industry there were no 
recreational craft in the lagoon save one, a glass bottom boat operated by 
Tetsuo, a Palauan. Middle Road was even less developed, another pot holed, 
two lane, dusty road with hardly a business on either side and even fewer 
vehicles to encounter. The maximum speed possible was about 20 - 25 mph. At 
that time the Fire Department had a single red jeep with a garden hose. In 
recalling those days long ago, I distinctly remember that I never saw 
people riding bicycles or jogging, saw very few  birds, never saw 
lightening or heard thunder.  Why this remains in my memory - I don’t know.

    To even think of a tourism based economy in 1970 was an unimaginable 
dream since the Japanese could only convert yen to its equivalent of $743. 
A round trip ticket to Guam purchased at the Pan American Airline office, 
or from Continental Air Micronesia, was $28. Those were the days when there 
was only one flight a day and one cargo ship a month. The population of 
Saipan, Tinian and Rota combined was 12,256 including the employees of the 
Trust Territory Government, the islands’ major employer. 
     The purchasing power of the dollar at the time would be equal to a 
little less that 20 cents today, (1998). The 2,376 registered vehicle 
owners, including those of the  Trust Territory and district  governments, 
purchased gasoline for 38 cents a gallon;  rice was 13 cents per pound; 
sugar 12 cents and a can of corned beef sold  for 75 cents. There were 55 
businesses in the Northern Marianas employing 673 people. The total annual 
government revenue was only $433,334 and the islands’ exports amounted to a 
measly $254,635. There was no private sector economy worth mentioning, no 
tourism, no garment factories, only government jobs for the most part. 
     Watergate had not yet consumed America and it was the year four 
students were killed at Kent State University.  Personal computers, fax 
machines and the internet were unheard of and slide rules were still widely 
used. Walter Cronkite’s CBS News was ten days late in reaching Saipan. The 
world could have ended and we wouldn’t have known it for more than a week 
from the  black and white telecasts originating from WSZE TV, the small 
television station on Navy Hill that glowed to life about 6 P.M. and went 
off the air around midnight or earlier to the sound of the National 
Anthem.  Mail from the U. S. east coast took 10 or 12 days - some things 
never change. 
     Doctor Torres hospital was located where the college is today. Capitol 
Hill Housing built by the CIA was the best on the island. The single Duty 
Free Store was housed in the Royal Taga Hotel and was no larger than a row 
of telephone booths, ten people in the shop made a crowd. The number of 
island restaurants could be counted on  one hand. 
     I recall running the island’s single stop sign and was ticketed by the 
police after being read my rights. Appearing in court the next day the 
judge asked for my plea, “Guilty - your honor”, I replied. At the sound of 
a gavel, he said, “I fine you $3.” Then the judge leaned over the bench and 
asked in a very compassionate and soft whisper, “Do you have $3?” I am 
certain that if I had replied, “No, sir, I only have $2”, the fine would 
have been reduced to that amount. There was very little money available on 
Saipan at the time. Nor was there much crime in those days, usually only 
rocks being reported thrown at someone’s tin roof. 
      One had to be very careful exploring  caves and “boonies”  and 
walking along the beach, as unexploded hand grenades, cartridges and live 
ordnance of all type was littered about. Several people were killed when 
their souvenir hunting curiosity got the better of them.  It is still 
dangerous to handle such finds. I still get a little nervous when I pass a 
ditch digging machine along the road thinking it will “chew” into an 
unexploded 16 inch naval shell and blow me to glory. At the time one could 
walk along the beach and find bone fragments of some fallen soldier and, 
when snorkeling, observe the floor of the lagoon littered with the weapons 
of war. Japanese “bone collectors” returned frequently to recover the 
pitiful remains of their fallen comrades for cremation ceremonies at Marpi 
and honorable burial rites at the Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo. 
      The islands have had to overcome some tremendous obstacles in their 
quest for economic growth. They had a small population and thus a small 
domestic market fragmented over three inhabited islands. There were no 
known natural resources in the traditional sense other than those of the 
sea. They were, and still are, located far from major sources of supply and 
foreign markets. Both raw materials and exported products, (of which there 
were none) were subject to high freight rates. Jet aircraft was not that 
frequent a visitor and thus had not become a major contributing factor in 
disjointing one’s concept of time and space in the Pacific cosmos.  In 
those days the air was filled with invisible air waves transmitting 
teletype, telex, television and radio signals from every corner of the 
world - but the messages they carried were largely unheard by many of us. 
People just didn’t seem too interested in the affairs of the world beyond 
their own center of the universe on Saipan. At that time I thought about a 
particular affliction that seemed to effect some people distorting their 
perception of reality. The never-ending cycle of the ebb and flow of the 
tide, always present, never changing in its eternal wash, hour by hour, day 
after day, month after month can make one feel one is also ageless. Some of 
the islanders I have met seem to live mostly in the present. I have not 
noticed that they dwell on the past or even discuss it at length. Maybe 
that’s what happens when you inhabit a place that has twelve months of July 
with the only monotony of the climate broken by raging typhoons that scare 
the devil out of you. 
    Thinking back, someone once observed that the Spanish brought 
Christianity to the islands, the Germans commerce, the Japanese a sense of 
discipline and the Americans dollars, commercialism and a the concept of 
democratic government. My own version of the historical account is: “the 
Spanish discovered the islands for the west and sold them to the Germans. 
The Japanese took them from the Germans. The Americans took them from the 
Japanese and gave them back to the local people who leased them back to the 
Japanese.” 
      Shortly after my arrival on Saipan I recall thinking it curious that 
some elderly  Chamorros and others throughout the former Japanese Mandated 
Islands looked back on the Japanese period with nostalgia. This was 
somewhat surprising. It may have been related to the desire for formality 
found in Japanese relationships and the discipline instilled by Japanese 
society and its sensitivities, both markedly different from the casualness, 
informality and briskness of the west. I learned the Pacific is the ocean 
where east meets west -- ancient civilizations with cultural and ancestral 
stability and with reverence for  the past are juxtaposed with the 
restlessness of the west and its obsession with the future. Perhaps also, 
it could be that individual opportunities were limited in those distant 
days there-by simplifying life's choices. Then too, it may be a misplaced 
perception or remembrance and longing for a bygone time, now remote and as 
irrecoverable as one's youth. Whatever it was, it still existed in the 
hearts and minds of many islanders long after the Japanese society was 
washed away on the waves of time. Tennyson may have been right when he 
wrote, "There is no time like the old time, when you and I were young." And 
now it has happen to me as my thoughts return to the old days of the Trust 
Territory. 
       Today the Marianas archipelago, situated in a universe of water, are 
the farthest stars out in the American galaxy, a political affiliation few 
could have foreseen. I will be forever grateful for the opportunities that 
came unexpectedly my way and for the wonderful friendships I have been 
fortunate enough to have made on Saipan. I really did nothing to deserve 
them. My life on Saipan has been an adventure that I wouldn't have missed 
for anything in the world.

Bill Stewart, Saipan - May 2, 1998