[FRIENDS OF KOREA] An American teenager in Seoul in 1967
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0 John O’Donnell, left, poses with his parents and seven siblings after moving to Korea in 1966, published in Cleveland’s The Plain Dealer newspaper March 19, 1967. Courtesy of John O’Donnell
Editor’s note
The Korea Times welcomes Americans who served in the Peace Corps in Korea between 1966 and 1981 to share their stories. This is one of them.
I was 13 when our family of 10 (mom, dad and eight kids ranging in age from 1 to 15) arrived at Kimpo Airport in August 1966. We arrived a bit prior to the first volunteers of the Peace Corps K-1, because our school started in early September. The older kids attended Seoul Foreign School (SFS) in Yeonhui-dong, behind Yonsei University. In fact, the founders of our school were some of the same missionaries who founded Yonsei, such as the Underwoods, the Allens and the Avisons. Today, there is a statue to Horace Grant Underwood in front of one of the Yonsei buildings.
Kevin O’Donnell, the first director of Peace Corps Korea, speaks during an interview in this photo published in The Korea Times July 12, 1970. Korea Times archive
Being born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio, and at our young ages, none of us kids were very familiar with the outside world, so when Dad (Kevin O’Donnell, the first Peace Corps country director for Korea) told us he got a new job and we were going to move to Korea, we thought he said Berea, a Cleveland suburb near the airport, and wondered why in the world would anyone want to move there. He said, “Not Berea — Korea. It’s a foreign country over by China and Japan.” This got most of us quite excited, but my older sister was despondent over not being able to attend her senior prom at her current high school.
The neighbors were astounded that “old people” could join the Peace Corps (Dad was 41 at the time), and that they could bring their families. They pestered my mom with their worries about taking young kids and babies to such a savage wilderness, so she had to remind them that she grew up in China as a missionary (“mish”) kid herself, from 1926 to 1930, when her father helped build one of the first Western medical hospitals in the country in Nanchang, Jiangxi province. The hospital is now known as the Jiangxi Provincial People’s Hospital and is one of China’s leading medical centers.
John O’Donnell, sixth from left, lines up for vaccinations with his seven siblings and parents before moving to Korea in 1966. Courtesy of John O’Donnell
Our family attended Peace Corps training in Hilo, Hawaii, for about two months before going to Korea. The four oldest kids (I was No. 4) had to study Korean every day, which, other than the Latin I had to learn as an altar boy, was the first foreign language to which I was exposed. The idea of learning a foreign language that people currently spoke was quite exciting, since I was able to practice it on “real people” and not just priests during Mass.
We had a long airplane journey to Seoul from Hawaii, spending a few days in Tokyo along the way. I remember arriving at Haneda Airport and staying at the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo. My first impression was, “Wow — everybody here has the same hair color.” I’d never seen so many black-haired people in one place in my life. It was probably the biggest surprise to me about Asia. When we reached Seoul, we stayed at the Metro Hotel (the Bando Hotel being too expensive for Peace Corps, of course). My biggest impression then was how different Korean milk tasted from American milk. I guess when you’re a kid, it’s the little things that catch your attention.
Visiting a Korean grocery store, published in Cleveland’s The Plain Dealer newspaper March 19, 1967. Courtesy of John O’Donnell
In terms of culture shock, my biggest surprise came on our first day of school, during my freshman year Religions of the World class. Chapter 1 of our textbook was Roman Catholicism. As a born and bred Irish Catholic myself, I proudly thought, “Yes! We’re Chapter 1!” When I read the first sentence of the chapter, however, I was stunned. “We shall begin our study of world religions with Roman Catholicism,” it read, “because it is the largest and most pernicious heresy of all time.”
Baseball, published in Cleveland’s The Plain Dealer newspaper March 19, 1967. Courtesy of John O’Donnell
I raised my hand and told the teacher, “This isn’t what I’ve been told by the nuns at my previous school.” She looked upon me kindly, and said, “You can skip that chapter, John.” It seems we were the first Catholics at SFS.
I was asked many times by my friends what it was like to be a “Papist,” a word I hadn’t heard before. I still recall the feeling of being an outsider because I was a Catholic as a much greater culture shock than just moving from Ohio to Korea. We knew we were going to a foreign country and it would be different from America, but I never imagined I’d go from being a normie in our predominantly Catholic neighborhood to being a heretic among the mish kids.
Being a high school kid in Seoul in the late 1960s was great. There weren’t a lot of foreigners in Korea at that time, so we were always the center of attention. Since most foreigners were Americans back then, kids would point at us and say “Miguk saram (Americans)!” We would respond in Korean with “Annyeonghaseyo,” and they’d start laughing and shouting “Haro Haro” as they ran away. Very different from now!
My memories of Seoul then include the fact that ox carts and A-frames were so common on the streets near us, as well as hand-pulled carts. Vehicles seemed to be mostly limited to buses, recycled army jeeps, taxis and nice, clean black cars for the rich folk. I don’t recall a lot of “normal” private cars like you see today.
Another major memory comes from going to our local movie theater to see Clint Eastwood movies for the first time, like “A Fistful of Dollars.” What surprised me the most — other than the coolness of The Man With No Name — was how noisy the theater became during the movie, with people popping their chewing gum. I’d never experienced people sucking their chewing gum back in their mouths so they could snap it, and immediately asked one of my Korean friends to show me how to do it. It’s one of my few talents in life, but whenever I do it, my wife immediately orders me to stop.
The road in front of the O’Donnells’ home in western Seoul in 1969 / Courtesy of John O’Donnell
Spitting in the street was also very popular, I recall. To discourage the practice, our school had signs reading, “Don’t Expect to Rate in Public if you Expectorate in Public.”
One of the best things about being a Peace Corps kid was having volunteers come by our house for hot showers and American-style food. They were our heroes, and we looked up to them with awe. That’s probably why two of my sisters later joined the Peace Corps themselves. They went to Sierra Leone and Nepal, since the Peace Corps had wrapped up in Korea by the time they were old enough to join.
The O’Donnell family visits Myeongdong Cathedral in Seoul in 1967. Courtesy of John O’Donnell
For me, spending my high school years in Korea was great. It set me on my career path of international business. Most of the kids in my school were mish kids, but a few were the offspring of American expatriate businessmen. (Yes, men, not women — it was the 1960s, remember.) Mish kids lived pretty much like us, but expat kids had refrigerators full of all sorts of “exotic” food and drinks, like ice cream, steaks, Coca-Cola and other delicacies not easily attainable in the local economy of that time. “That’s the ticket,” I thought. “I’m gonna get me a job in international business one of these days.”
John O’Donnell and his wife Masumi attend the 60th anniversary of Peace Corps Korea event in Seoul, Sept. 16. Courtesy of John O’Donnell
It’s worked out very well for me, and I’m happy to say that I have been able to return the kindness Korea showed our family by sponsoring an annual scholarship at SFS in honor of my parents. The Future International Businessperson of the Year Award is given out to a graduating senior each year who plans to enter the profession of International Business.
