DATE: Sunday, June 29, 1997 TAG: 9706290110 SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA SOURCE: PAUL SOUTH DATELINE: NAGS HEAD LENGTH: 112 lines
Richard Mohr has seen 47 Fourths of July come and go.
But this holiday will be something beyond the star-spangled wonder of other years, for Mohr and his wife, Linda.
This Fourth of July, Richard Mohr celebrates as a citizen.
Citizenship for many of us is confirmed without ceremony, bestowed as we take our first big breath at birth. But for Richard Mohr, the right to call himself an American arrived as a moment rich in irony, like searching the seven seas for buried treasure only to find it in your own back yard.
Mohr's journey of becoming an American twists through the mountans of Romania ahead of advancing Soviet occupation forces and through refugee camps of Austria and ravaged, postwar Germany.
``When the Russians moved into Romania during World War II, my mother left and went to Austria, and from Austria to Germany in refugee camps, because everyone was fleeing from the Russians. . . . especially the Germanic people,'' Mohr said.
The trail of camps that provided safe havens for his family is a blur for Mohr.
``I don't remember Romania,'' Mohr said. ``All I remember about Germany is all of those bombed-out basements. They (officials) offered my parents some incentives to stay in Germany, but everyone wanted to come to America.''
When Mohr was 7, his German-born parents brought young Richard and his sister Anna to America. They entered through Ellis Island.
``My father came to the United States, and after five years, he became a citizen,'' Mohr said. ``My parents were new to the country and didn't really understand the language. They didn't know that because I was their child, once they became a citizen, I did too.''
At Ellis Island, the Mohrs, with the help of relatives already in America, filled out the necessary papers and expressed their desire to become citizens.
``There was a certain cut-off point that I would not have become a citizen,'' Mohr said. ``Being that they made a declaration of intent there at Ellis Island to become citizens within five years, that pulled us in.
``If they had waited a couple of years, we might not have been able to automatically become citizens.''
But for more than four decades, Richard Mohr grew up believing that he was without a country. He would marry, work and eventually own Beach Bowling Center in Nags Head. ``I couldn't vote,'' Mohr said. ``I couldn't own a gun, serve on a jury or get a pilot's license or a ham radio license. It took me a long time to get my passport because I would always tell the immigration people I was not a citizen.''
Long lines of frustrated people, wrapped in the red tape of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, kept a frustrated Mohr from pursuing the dream of becoming an American. ``When I was 50, I tried to go through the INS, and it was just so hard to go through,'' Mohr said. ``They make you stand in one line to get a number, then you have to stand in another line after that. And there's so much red tape. I didn't have the patience my wife had. She stayed on it. I'd deal with the bureaucrats for a while and just get frustrated.''
Linda Mohr learned the bureaucratic minefield quickly.
``After two weeks of 800 numbers and going from menu to menu to menu just to get the paperwork from INS, we decided to go to Baltimore because that's where his parents live and where they got their citizenship,'' she said.
The INS office in Baltimore provided more frustration.
``People were everywhere,'' Linda Mohr recalled. ``You're herded into this line to get a number. Then we were told we had to get in line to talk to this person. We waited two or three hours, never talking to a single person.'' She also remembered the heartbreaking story of an 80-year-old Italian man who had lived in America for years.
``He had done nothing wrong, but he could not properly answer their questions orally or written the way they wanted, and he was going to be deported,'' she said.
After months of trying, the Mohrs turned to U.S. Sen. Lauch Faircloth's office for help. Mary Bear, a staff assistant for Faircloth, went to work. The Mohrs had planned a trip to Europe, and the deadline for passports was fast approaching. Baltimore INS officials could not locate the Mohrs' 47-year-old paperwork. Richard Mohr had a certificate from Ellis Island - but the INS said it was inadequate.
``They said that was not proof,'' Linda Mohr said. ``I had his school records, all his tax records, and they said we needed a statement from the INS that his mother was a citizen.
``I started talking to Mary's office last September. We went to Baltimore twice, and to Washington, D.C. Sen. Faircloth's office called, and the very next day, my husband had his passport. He was stamped a U.S. citizen. INS had all his paperwork. He was a citizen. His parents were citizens. He derived from his parents' citizenship. If it had not been for Sen. Faircloth's aide, I don't know what we would have done.''
In all, the process took 16 months and cost the Mohrs more than $2,000 in travel and legal expenses.
``That doesn't include phone calls and all the miles,'' Linda Mohr said. ``After six months of running up and down the road, we had 13,000 miles on the car.''
For Richard Mohr, past July Fourths have been not so different from that of his neighbors.
``In the past it's been like a picnic time,'' Mohr said. ``The Fourth is not here yet, but I'm sure I'll look at it with a lot more meaning now that I'm a citizen.''
The thought of how special the day will be for her husband sends a wave of emotion over Linda Mohr.
``It's very important to him, because he can vote,'' she said, small tears washing over her face. ``The funny thing was, I was born here, my father's retired Navy, my mom's civil service. I've always been able to vote. Richard could sit down and take the (citizenship) test and pass it. I probably couldn't. He knows government. He knows history. He knows the government and history of other countries. He's aware of politics. He could sit and banter with the best of them, but he couldn't vote. It was very hard for him. It's harder to become a citizen than people think.''
When their mission was accomplished last March, it came on the heels of Richard Mohr's first 300 game after more than 30 years of league bowling.
``In the last year, he got the business, he got his 300 game and his citizenship,'' his wife said. ``It's been a good year.'' And even after all the red tape, and all the years of lost benefits and responsibilities of citizenship, Mohr bears no bitterness. ``I think what I've done . . . I've learned to appreciate it more,'' he said. ``I think if I'd always had that right, I wouldn't appreciate it the way I do now.''
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