By Kyle Orton (@KyleWOrton) on 11 May 2026

Below is the reproduction of an article from British Mandate Palestine in 1936.

Innocents Abroad

Two World-Girders In Palestine

By Charles H. Brown and William Z. Rozan

5 May 1936

Special to The Palestine Post, page 2 [The Jerusalem Post from 1950]

“Don’t go. It isn’t safe for tourists. You might get hit with a stone.”

“Well, we’ve come two-thirds the way around the world to Beirut. We’ll take our chances from here.”

“But the chauffeurs have declared a sympathetic strike. No buses are running to Haifa.”

Now, that was a much more sensible objection to our plans. Two mad American youths, a journalist and a jurist, we had beat our way through troubled China, across seething India, and over unrestful Syria and Lebanon, going to what-ever places struck our fancy. We had resolved that only two things could keep us from going where we wished — lack of the barest minimum funds, or a cessation of all communication. We had the first now, and before long had the transportation as well, — an Arab bus plying regularly between Beirut and Haifa.

No Stones…

We came to the Syrian border station, the Palestine customs and … We looked about expectantly. But there was no tinkle of breaking glass, no stones bouncing from the heads of foolhardy wayfarers, no menacing crowds blocking the right of way. The sea continued gently to lap the shore, the breeze whispered in the trees, the camels looked at us questioningly (or was it disdainfully?). But perhaps we were looking for excitement a little too soon.

HAIFA

“Gosh, but it’s quiet here. Look at those shops. Every one of them shuttered and padlocked.” Seemingly, the New York businessman’s lament, “as quiet as a Saturday in Palestine,” had come true.

“Yet, but it isn’t just the Sabbath lay-off. This is the strike!”

We inquired about buses to Jerusalem. An Arab with his head bandaged looked at us queerly. “Bus no running. Must go by train.” And he pointed out the way to the railway station.

We shouldered our packs and set out to walk. There were no Jews abroad. The Arabs in the street eyed us suspiciously. There was a definite tenseness in the atmosphere. One felt that it would take little to start things popping again.

An armed Tommy was on guard at the Railway station. “Quite a time you boys have been having lately.”

Broken Heads or Sleep?

“Sure ’ave. I don’t mind if some o’ these blokes get their ’eads bashed in, but me, I ain’t ’ad no sleep for four nights.”

“How do things look now? Getting a little quieter?”

“Yar. We got the order to fire yesterday, and some o’ ’em got hurt. There may be a little fight now and then, but there won’t be no big trouble.”

A few minutes later the train shrilled two warning blasts, and we clambered into our third class coach. It was crowded to overflowing with both Jews and Arabs — tangible proof that this time we had been informed correctly about the suspension of bus traffic.

JERUSALEM

“No you can’t get a taxi or a carriage. You’ll have to walk.”

And walk we did, through quiet streets whose suspension of activity we decided might be attributed to the strike, for the friend with whom we were walking advised us to take a detour around an Arab section, because the boys who were carrying our luggage were not supposed to be working. We found our hotel and the next morning set out to see the old city.

“We Kill Them”

Lost in the maze of narrow alleys and lanes, we were forced to ask directions of a little Arab boy in the street. He offered to show us the way. We passed a row of padlocked shops. These, explained the boy, were Arab shops, closed on account of the strike.

A little farther on, we came to another row of closed shops.

“These,” said our young guide, “are Jewish shops.”

“And why are they closed?”

His face lit up in a broad smile.

“Oh, the Arabs kill them.”

We walked on silently.

At a travel bureau, later in the day, we made some inquiries about our steamship tickets.

“What, you’re supposed to sail from Jaffa on Tuesday? But the port is closed. You’ll either have to go back to Haifa or down to Port Said.”

And that’s what comes of being independent and going where you please, instead of being a Cook’s tourist and going where you’re told.