WWII

The Way It Was: Part 2 | The Great Depression

Introduction: In the post The Way It Was: Part 1 eshrink shared his earliest memories in southeastern Ohio as a child born in 1930. He described the complex world of Jim Crow and race relations from his perspective and his earliest memories. Born during The Great Depression, eshrink (my dad) has first-hand memories of what that era was like for a boy growing up in Ohio. In this segment, you’ll get a glimpse of life, activities, and the experiences that had a major influence on his life. Even more, you’ll get a historic picture of the 1930s and 40s in middle America. Dad doesn’t suffer from revisionist history that romanticizes nostalgia as “the good ole days” and illustrates the struggles as well as the joys of the era from his perspective.
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There but for the grace of God go I…

As for the depression, I did not suffer, but it was impossible to ignore the beggars on virtually every street corner or the hoboes (often referred to as “bums”) who would appear at the back door begging for food. Much has been written about hunger during the Great Depression, but I don’t recall ever going to bed hungry. It would be 50 years later when my older brother would remind me that there were times when Mom and Dad told us to eat first. Likewise, it was long after their deaths that I learned that my maternal Grandfather (Spinney), a carpenter, had built them a house as a wedding present, which they had lost when the factory where my father worked shut down during the depression.

“Scrappy” was Required for Survival During the Depression

I do recall learning that we had moved four times by the time I was 5 years old, but somehow, probably due to my father’s ingenuity, we managed to escape homelessness. Dad was not one to miss an opportunity to make a buck and was willing to present himself as having expertise where none existed. In those days, most houses had wallpaper throughout since interior walls and ceilings were plastered and subject to developing cracks. Thus, when a more affluent neighbor reported they were looking for a paper hanger he presented himself as an expert though he had never so much as touched a roll of wallpaper. Likewise, when Roosevelt passed the Rural Electrification Act, there was an immediate demand for electricians to wire houses and barns throughout the country. He seized the moment, declared himself an electrician and set about wiring houses after consulting with a bona fide electrician friend in order to learn the essentials.

Homelessness and Hoovervilles during the Depression

The unemployment rate was over 25%, but due to vagrancy laws homelessness was largely confined to the shanty towns constructed of scavenged materials. Such areas were referred to as Hoovervilles in reference to Herbert Hoover who was largely blamed for the depression. They were usually located on the outskirts of cities and towns in inconspicuous areas and were at risk for raids from law enforcement. On the other hand, many unemployed men played a cat and mouse game with local law enforcements wandering from town to town to escape jail time. The vagrancy laws, which were established to control the black population following the Civil War, were resurrected in order to assure that homelessness would be kept out of sight. Hope was in short supply which many had lost after months of fruitless attempts to find work. A significant number of these men were veterans of World War I who suffered from “shell shock”, disabling physical injuries, or chronic lung disease resulting from exposure to mustard gas. Veteran’s pensions proved hard to get and these alienated souls traveled from town-to-town hitch-hiking, walking, or hopping freight trains. Hoboes developed their own subculture with hidden campsites throughout the country, usually migrating to the south in winter, though it was not unusual for a farmer to discover one who had misjudged the onset of cold weather sleeping in his haymow. They shared information as to the most tolerant communities, favorable routes, and even freight train schedules.

A Day in the Life of a Kid during the Depression

In spite of all the problems that surrounded us, we kids were busy doing what kids do. In winter, we prayed for snow and kept the runners on our sleds polished in case it happened. Since school was so highly regimented, we were out the door as soon as we got home, weather permitting. There were no television shows or video games to keep us in the house, but there were radio programs designed for us such as: JACK ARMSTRONG ALL AMERICAN BOY, THE LONE RANGER, and THE SHADOW. In the summer there were even more incentives to be outside, since without air conditioning the outdoors was more comfortable. May 1^st may have been a time of celebration for communists, but it was the officially designated time my brother and I were allowed to go barefooted. It would take us several weeks to get our feet tough enough to handle walking on gravel roads. Summers were glorious times, and Labor Day was the worst holiday of the year for the next day school resumed. I used a lot of energy as an unwelcome “tagalong” chasing my brother and his friends. We ran all day, swam in the creek, climbed trees, rode bikes (I inherited my brother’s beat up version), shot marbles, played cowboys and Indians, follow the leader, and all kinds of kid organized ball games. We followed the ice truck through the neighborhood looking for chunks of ice that often fell off when the driver grabbed a chunk of ice with his tongs. There were arguments, which were usually resolved without interference of adults, and times when a kid could learn to enjoy solitude by lying on his back in the grass watching the clouds. Rainy days were good for making model airplanes and reading comic books. I memorized the Boy Scout manual for I desperately wanted to be a Boy Scout. However, we never stayed in one place long enough for me to make contact. There was also the expense of a uniform, which presented a problem.

The BIG Event: The CIRCUS comes to town

The county fair was a big summer event, but it paled in the face of the appearance of the Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus. Even if you couldn’t afford it, it still lived up to its mantra as “the Greatest Show on Earth”. I was able to attend one year and was absolutely mesmerized. There were other circuses, but none compared to P.T. Barnum’s version. One year, to my delight, the parade to the fairgrounds, where the circus was to set up, a show unto itself, went down the street in front of the house where we lived. We watched in awe as the elephants, and caged wagons with lions and tigers passed by. People lined the streets, for the parade was a show unto itself. Whenever there was a circus in town, we went to watch them miraculously set up the whole operation in a few hours with the help of elephants who effortlessly raised the tent poles to their full height. Following the last performance, Dad would take us to join the crowd at the train station to watch them load the huge tent, people, wagons, and animals. That frantic activity would take them into the wee hours of the night until the train pulled out, headed for the next town, where what appeared to us kids as an exciting glamorous scenario, would play out again. Consequently, threats by disgruntled kids to “run away and join the circus” were not uncommon.

Newspapers and Paper Routes: The Way It Was

Issued October 1952. Editor’s Note for the “Way It Was” Series: Note Newspaperboys and Busy Boys…Better Boys. Girls need not apply.

Many kids had paper routes, and there was competition for the larger ones with houses close together, although the routes for the morning paper which required one to get up by 5 AM were less popular. Although many depended on radio for news the newspaper was still the major source of information, and reporters were held in high regard. To take over a paper route provided a kid with a crash course in business. His papers were dumped at a designated street corner where he picked them up, folded them into individual rolls and headed off on his route via a bicycle if he was fortunate enough to own one. The paper boy was in effect a retailor who bought his papers and sold them to his customers. Collecting the

money for his sales was his problem, and it was not all that unusual for a carrier to be stiffed by his customers. In other words, when assuming the contract to become a “paper boy”, he had become a full-fledged retail businessperson with all its benefits and problems.

The printed word was an important part of everyday life since it was virtually the only source of information about the goings on outside of one’s own neighborhood. There was intense competition, as was seen in my small town where there were at one time three separate daily papers, while some surrounding counties also had their own weekly papers of mostly local news. The printing of a paper was very labor intensive, requiring the services of not only the men who operated the huge presses that produced the paper, but a cadre of skilled workers called typesetters who were responsible for arranging all that type to form words. Speed was of the essence for as the name implies if it is not new it is not news. Consequently, most daily papers were capable of producing at a moment’s notice “extras” (i.e., special editions featuring important events).

Many foreign correspondents who covered WWII became famous. Ernie Pyle who was killed while covering action in the South Pacific gained fame for his interviews with ordinary soldiers on the front lines. Walter Cronkite would end his career as an anchor man on television and was hailed as the nation’s most trusted source of news. Edward R. Murrow who would later be credited for helping bring down Joe McCarthy, (perpetrator of the red scare), broadcasted from allied planes on bombing missions while on assignment in London during WWII. Bill Mauldin’s cartoons featuring G.I. Joe portrayed the pathos and humor experienced by foot soldiers. Photojournalists also became more important as magazines such as Life and Look gained wider circulation.

Radio

Although during my childhood, newspapers remained the most popular source for news, radio had gained a strong presence in a few short years. I remember listening to station KDKA in Pittsburgh, which bragged that they sent out the strongest signal in the nation. They were the first to broadcast to large areas of the country. Although the technology had existed for some time, such broadcasting had only begun in 1920. In the 1930s, owning a radio became a high priority, and a new Fairbanks-Morse radio was the centerpiece of the average family’s living room. It would be many years before FM radio was available and AM had many limitations. Foremost was the fact that AM reception was affected by weather, and the signal strengths of other stations, which could sometimes intrude on other frequencies. It was not until 1926 that the first radio broadcasting network, (NBC) began the process of linking local stations so that programs could be transmitted nationally.

It didn’t take long for politicians to recognize the value of radio as a communications tool, and I recall listening to FDR giving one of his “fireside chats”. Although I had no idea what he was talking about, I was fascinated because everyone was listening attentively to his every word. I even remember listening to the infamous antisemitic Catholic priest (Father Coughlin). His Sunday evening broadcasts of fascist rants attracted millions of listeners and was felt by many, to have contributed to the initial reluctance of many Americans to support Britain in their struggle against Hitler. During its hey-day in the 1930s and 40s there was something for everyone on the radio. With the overwhelming majority of women spending full time in the home, the so-called soap operas found a ready audience during the day, and many mothers arranged their work schedule around their favorite shows. The serial format of those broadcasts assured that the listener would return the next day to find out how the latest crisis had been resolved. Late afternoon was time for the after-school programs. My favorites were the Lone Ranger and I Love a Mystery. As was chronicled in the TV show, The Christmas Story, there were all kinds of gimmicks designed to attract kids.

Evenings were difficult, for in our house much of prime time was taken up by Lowell Thomas who was dad’s favorite news commentator. I thought he was really cool due to his involvement in the glamorizing of T. H. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia). I can still remember his soothing baritone voice as he signed off with the words: “So long until tomorrow”. H. V. Kaltenborn had gained a large audience and was said to broadcast his news and commentary without benefit of a script. Walter Winchell was an ex-vaudevillian who gained fame as a gossip columnist, but later was credited with destroying the careers of multiple famous Hollywood personalities by supporting Senator Joe McCarthy’s communist witch hunt. Winchell’s Sunday night broadcasts were rapid and staccato. His opening intro was: “Hello Mr. and Mrs. North and South America and all the ships at sea”. I could never figure out where that thing about the ships at sea came from. He was indeed a colorful figure who was alleged to consort with criminal elements during prohibition, but later in his career became a snitch for Hoover’s G-men.

Sports

Radio must have been a boon to professional sports, as sporting events could now be reported upon as they happened. In those days baseball was dubbed “the national pastime”, Babe Ruth was everyone’s hero, and towns of all sizes fielded their own teams, which provided opportunities for sports aficionados, such as Ronald Reagan to become play by play announcers.

Boxing was also very popular, and one of a few professional sports in which African Americans were allowed to participate. The myth of racial superiority of white people had been damaged when Jack Johnson (nicknamed the Galveston Giant) became heavyweight champion a few years previously. His win spawned riots, and he further infuriated us bigots by marrying a white woman. In the 1920s, white Jack Dempsey was everyone’s hero, but in the 1930s along came a black fighter named Joe Louis who is widely regarded as the greatest fighter of all time. I recall lying on the floor in front of our Zenith radio listening to the play by play of his fights which usually did not last long as he had a string of knockouts in early rounds. Louis was spared from the vituperation endured by Johnson as circumstances would lead this man of humble origins to become a national hero. In the late thirties Louis had lost to Max Smelling a German, and Hitler crowed about the superiority of the Arian race. In a rematch, Louis knocked out Snelling in the first round, and became an instant geopolitical hero even though there remained a significant number of Americans who continued to hope for “a great white hope” to unseat him. Nevertheless, Louis had further discredited Hitler’s myth, which Jesse Owens’s had trashed in the 1936 Olympic games.

Radio Dramas and the Attack of Aliens

Prior to the development of television, in addition to news and music of all kinds, drama was an important part of radio programming. Many programs were live, and for actors to play roles without benefit of audience or set presented many problems. Some were even able to play two separate roles at the same time. Sound engineers became proficient at providing sound effects, which in one instance, caused a near panic nationwide. In 1938 a young Orson Welles presented an adaptation of H.G. Wells’s THE WAR OF THE WORLDS, which was so realistic that thousands of people, me included, thought we were actually being invaded by aliens, and panic ensued in some cases. Fortunately, Dad was able to reassure me that it was not real. As with most people, I am a big fan of television, yet there are times when I yearn for those days of yore when listening to the radio forced me to use my own imagination to picture the action. However, the best week of our summers were the ones my brother and I spent at our grandparents’ farm.

Editor’s Note: Stay tuned for How It Was: Part 3 for a glimpse of farm life in the 1940s with my dad’s favorite past-time highlighted: eating (he was a “foodie” before it was cool).

The Way It Was | Part 1

Introduction: Although three generations apart, my high school English Literature teacher and my editor are of like minds for Maggie and Miss Higgins have both encouraged me to write about things of which I have first-hand knowledge. I have found that advice to be limiting since although I know a little bit about several things, I don’t consider myself an expert in anything, or as Orrie (a co-worker from my pre-college days working in a glass factory) said of me, I just knew enough to be dangerous. Since I am now a bona fide member of the old geezer’s club, it follows that I should have some knowledge as to what things were like in times past. Consequently, Maggie has suggested I write about what things were like in the “good old days.”

Likewise, son Peter, the historian extraordinaire, recently commented that he would like to know what it was like during my earlier days as he felt first-hand accounts were more informative than were typical historical descriptions. With all that in mind, I have decided to forego my usual rants about things of which I know little to launch a series of stories about what it was like to live in earlier times. Unfortunately, to do so will result also in subjecting you to boring autobiographical stuff.

In psychoanalytic lingo, the term repression is used to indicate an unconscious mechanism in which painful memories or feelings are hidden from us. This accounts for the fact that uncomfortable memories are often clouded or forgotten. The term is to be distinguished from suppression which is a conscious act. Repression is helpful as it allows us to put aside or distort uncomfortable memories, and multiple studies provide confirmatory evidence that memories are unreliable. Of course, this process is overwhelmed in the case of extremely painful experiences which can result in what we now call post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a malady that under different names has always bedeviled soldiers. Thus, the reader should be forewarned we old folks usually view our childhoods through our own personal brand of rose-colored glasses, and this paper is the result of an old man’s reminiscences rather than a carefully researched historical document.

My parents were married in 1925, and my big brother was born a year later. He was only 3 years old when the stock market crashed ushering in the world’s worse recorded depression. My first glimpse of this world and of the wonders that awaited me occurred on a warm September day less than a year after that fateful day. Although some people insist they remember being born, psychologists who study such things, tell us that we don’t remember anything before three (3) years of age. Though I don’t remember the blessed event, I have heard a lot about it.

Front page of the Times Recorder the day after the infamous “Stock Market Crash” on October 29, 1929.

The Early Days: Little Spinney Enters the World

I was birthed in the latest of high-tech facilities by Dr. Wells in his hospital, which was actually the back room of his office where he had a hospital bed. His “hospital” was located in the village of Nashport, so named as it had been a port on the Ohio canal, where years later I would spear carp in its remains. In those days, there was a physician in most all midwestern villages, and apparently Dr. wells was progressive in his eschewing of home deliveries. He even enlisted the aid of my father in administering an ether anesthetic, in spite of which both Mother and I survived. The whole thing apparently was without complication and as I arrived Dr. Wells commented: “Look at those ears, he is a little Spinney” (the nickname for my maternal grandfather who was well known for large protruding ears at odds with his serious hearing deficit). In spite of being long and skinny, I weighed in at a whopping 13 pounds. I would endure that description of my body type and those ears through most of my life. As a matter of fact, later when in the sixth grade we read Washington Irving’s story, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, I strongly identified with Ichabod Crane. Ninety years later, I still have the ears, but am no longer skinny.

Psychiatrists often ask a new patient to relate their earliest memory with the idea that such memories may be indicative of their lifestyle, values, or how they view the world. I believe my earliest memory occurred around the age of 3 or 4 which would have put it in the midst of the depression. That time was confirmed by my mother who happened to recall the miniature sailor suit which I remember wearing then. It certainly was a momentous happening in my life for while sitting in the bleachers at a baseball game I was treated with my first box of cracker jacks. Unfortunately, I don’t remember what the surprise gift was, but I assume it must have been a dandy for me to have remembered the incident for 86 years. Although I have no idea what a box of Cracker Jacks cost in the early 30s, it must have been a luxury for a father who would mow your lawn with a hand powered mower for pennies. With bread at 8 cents per loaf even a dime would make a big difference in our diet. You are probably wondering how I would interpret such an earliest memory. You may rest assured that I would take the 5th amendment.

Speaking of lawn mowers reminds me of another episode of my toddler days. Any young whipper snapper who happens to be reading this will probably not be aware that when a vintage push mower is turned upside down the blades do not rotate. This particular memory is of me riding on such a positioned mower with my Dad’s jacket laying on top of it. I assume he was going house to house attempting to get a lawn to mow, and suspect that he was not above using a cute little guy like me to elicit sympathy from potential customers.

Map that shows Eshrink was born (Nashport) and the areas surrounding Zanesville, Ohio, where he grew up.

Although we moved a lot, we never went very far. Except for a brief stint in Akron, (more about that later) we were always living in Zanesville, Ohio, or surrounding areas within 12 miles. Zanesville was a town of 30,000 people located on the fringes of Appalachia, and known for its manufacture of art pottery. It was located at the junction of 2 rivers which had provided passage for river boats from the Ohio river. During my childhood it was traversed by route 40, then a heavily traveled transcontinental highway which went directly through the center of town thus gaining Zanesville fame for its traffic jams.

Race Relations in the 1930s & 40s

Even though Zanesville had been a station on the underground railroad, it was split on the slavery issue with those on the south side of the river known as prominent abolitionists. They included pastor William Beecher whose sister was Harriet Beecher Stowe author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Frederick Douglas had spoken at Rev. Beecher’s church and there was a great deal of animus from north of the river, which was largely pro-slavery. During my childhood, Lincoln was widely hailed for ending slavery which everyone in my orbit condemned, but the “separate but equal’ philosophy was still alive and well. For example, although or schools were not segregated officially, I can only recall one or two black kids in my classes until the eighth grade. Sadly, I don’t recall making any effort to befriend them.

This a sign from 1931, but this is a picture from an Ohio pool in 2011. The Cincinnati woman who hung the sign on her pool didn’t think there was anything wrong with it and described it as a historical piece. This is the link to the article.

When the city fathers decided to build a municipal swimming pool, they found it necessary to build a second one for black folks. The local skating rink only allowed black kids in on Monday night, which just happened to coincide with the nearby ice cream parlor’s decision to be closed on Monday. I assumed that black kids liked to sit in the balcony because they wanted to be together. Little did I know that the ushers who were present in higher end theaters were tasked with deciding where people should sit.

Oxymorons such as “I don’t have anything against niggers, but I wouldn’t want my daughter to marry one” or “I wouldn’t want one to live next door” were common in the rare conversations about race. As I recalled in a previous writing, my first awareness of the degradation suffered by African Americans occurred in my teenage years while working at my father’s filling station. A black family with an out of state license plate pulled in and after gassing up, the father walked across the street to the back door of a neighboring restaurant to get food for his family. I was left with a feeling of sadness as I tried to imagine what he must have felt. That memory has remained etched in my mind for75 years.

This is a picture of a restaurant in Lancaster, Ohio, in 1938 from the Library of Congress. “We Cater to White Trade Only” sign. Ohio, like most of the North and West did not have *de jure* statutory enforced segregation (Jim Crow laws), but many places still had (*de facto*) social segregation in the early 20th century.

It is a tribute to the powers of rationalization that we were aghast to hear of lynchings in the south and to see pictures of their “white only” signs as we continued to discriminate against our non-white brethren in less obvious ways, while simultaneously denying our own bigotry. During my childhood I recall no discussions concerning racial issues, which is understandable when one considers that segregation activates the “out of sight, out of mind” mantra. I was reared as a WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant). My tribe was a majority, and obviously wanted to keep it that way. Segregation was accomplished without formal declaration. Other than in the area of race relations, high ideals such as honesty, truth, and honor were highly praised, and unresolved racial disparities were the only stain I recall on what came to be called the Greatest Generation however; our sons and daughters would awaken to the problem, and progress has been made in at least accepting that there is a problem. The fact that the subject is now openly discussed is encouraging. Moreover, were I to have predicted 60 years ago that I would now be sitting here celebrating a national holiday based on the life of an African American civil rights leader, my sanity would have been questioned.

Sign for “colored” waiting room at a Greyhound bus terminal in Rome, Georgia, 1943. Throughout the South there were Jim Crow laws creating “de jure” legally required segregation

Nevertheless, hate-speech is now common in political discourse, we have witnessed an upsurge in violence against minorities, there are assaults on our seats of government, and we are told that domestic terrorism is now the greatest threat to our country. All of this seems to be fueled by a propaganda so ridiculous as to be laughable were its results not so serious. The most frightening of all is what we are learning as to how the January 6 assault nearly succeeded in reversing the results of an election or worse. Even though in the years leading up to WWII, the economy was improving, the Depression had provided an opportunity for anarchists of all stripes to get into the act, and of course hatred was their favorite recruitment tool. I was too young to understand its implications, but from my spot under the coffee table I recall hearing Dad’s friends vilify the “damned New York Jews” whom they blamed for the depression. Radio newscasts made frequent reference to the German American Bund, an organization of German American citizens promoting fascism. There was also the unlikely supporter of anti-semitism who had reached a large radio audience in the person of a Catholic priest (Father Coughlin). Capitalism was under siege and strongmen like Hitler, Mussolini, Tito and Stalin were all purging the ranks of adversaries whom of course they accused of causing all the world’s problems.

Getting a Front Seat to the Acceleration of Innovation

The midst of the most severe depression the world had ever known was certainly not a convenient time to usher in a new member of the Smith family, but for me there was not a more propitious time to have been born. Although a massive worldwide depression had impeded the industrial revolution, it had largely recovered by the time I reached adolescence, fed by an explosive expansion of the manufacturing section of the economy during World War ll. That war would also be the impetus to an unraveling of more mysteries as to how things work than has occurred since people first inhabited this planet, and I would marvel at how it all fit together. Thus, science would gain respect, and previously undreamed-of technologies would become routine. During my lifetime I would witness the invention of amazing things both great and small which would make life more comfortable and work less arduous. It was a time when such discoveries would give us an appreciation for the complexities of life and the environment which sustain it, though we were largely oblivious to the untoward side effects such massive progress would cause to our planet. It would also set a pigeon toed long skinny kid with big ears on a journey which would lead him to the most satisfying career one could imagine.

However, that war would exact a horrible price. It was the bloodiest in history. Although it is impossible to glean an accurate account, some estimate that 85 million people may have been killed not to mention untold numbers who suffered permanently disabling physical or psychological problems. Fortunately for me, I was surrounded by vast oceans which protected me from those horrors, but my family would not totally escape its reach.

The Way It Was| Part 10

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength.
While loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao Tzu

Editor’s Note: Above is a quote Eshrink found while doing research for this series of blog posts: The Way It Was (a glimpse into how he saw life growing up during The Depression and WWII). He said it might be his all time favorite quote so I decided to put it at the top of each post in this series as a reminder of the power of words and the power of love. Eshrink’s writing illustrates the power of both! In case you missed earlier posts in this series, I’ve provided links below.

EDITOR’S Note:

Welcome to Part 10, the final installment of “The Way It Was” (Eshrink’s memories of WWII from his perspective as a young boy growing up in Ohio).

President Franklin D. Roosevelt (FDR) signing the G.I. Bill in June 1944.

Our conquering heroes were treated as such. Many would return to their old jobs and families. But colleges, universities and trade schools were flooded with students as nearly 8 million veterans took advantage of the GI bill which paid for tuition, and living expenses for any approved college, high school, technical, or vocational school. Many universities found it necessary to erect quonset huts to handle the influx, while others opened branches in enabling some vets to commute (the latter allowed me to start college).

Low interest mortgages and business loans were made available, along with one year of unemployment compensation if needed. There were some who objected to the policy as being socialistic along with the prediction that it would encourage laziness. It turned out that this time the unintended consequences of a government policy were positive. Teachers and professors almost unanimously applauded the GI’s for their discipline, and dedication to their studies. Employers were recruiting rather than shunning veterans.

Sociologists and economists mostly agree that this massive educational effort contributed in a big way to the post war era of prosperity and to our becoming the dominant force in the world. We gained respect for not only our military prowess, but intellectual and artistic pursuits. For example, It would no longer be advantageous to study medicine in Europe, rather Europeans would now line up to study in the US. The ready availability of an educated workforce allowed us to move ahead of other countries in industrial and scientific research, and to mold our “swords into plowshares.”

Learning from History

Of course, we had a head start in the race for supremacy considering the fact that the rest of the industrial world was in shambles having suffered the brunt of the war’s devastation. In a rare display of good judgement, we seemed to have learned from past mistakes and decided to use our new-found prosperity to create the “Marshall Plan” which was designed to help rebuild and revitalize Europe including Germany and Italy.

This was in marked contrast to the treatment of Germany after the first World War, when they were severely punished. This was undoubtedly a major factor in causing WWII a mere 20 years later. The Marshall Plan, i.e., the general strategy of helping the countries we had just defeated, was roundly criticized by many who felt we were rewarding bad behavior. However, the rebuilding of Europe combined with a similar program for Japan has resulted in the establishment of democratic governments and prosperity for all, but most of all peaceful relations which have lasted for 70 years.

Those postwar years were full of the promise of peace and prosperity. The boys had come home, were going to school, or working better jobs. My Brother and my uncle as beneficiaries of the GI bill were the first in our family to have ever gone to college. As with millions of others, they were soon starting families, and the baby boom began. In 1948 I graduated from high school and worked briefly as a go-fer at an automobile agency, where there was a long list of people waiting to buy a new car. This was true of all kinds of items which had not been produced during the war. There was building everywhere, the economy was booming, and the future looked bright, but that euphoria was short lived when Joseph Stalin entered the picture.

War Makes Strange Bed Fellows

Stalin was at least as ruthless as Hitler, and is said to have executed millions of his political adversaries with even more dying in his gulags as his concentration camps were called. Nevertheless, he had been welcomed into the fold as an ally after he declared war on Germany. He called himself a communist but his definition of communism involved the presence of an all-powerful dictator.

Yalta Conference. Winston Churchill, Franklin

Left to Right: Churchill (PM of England); Roosevelt (President of the USA); Stalin (Leader / United Socialist Soviet Republic-aka: Russia)

At the famed Yalta conference called to decide the fate of post war Europe, Stalin was granted control of Eastern Europe after suckering FDR and Churchill into believing he would keep his word about establishing democratic governments in those countries. His duplicity marked the beginning of the Cold War which would become more frigid with Russia’s development of a nuclear bomb in 1949. This led to the policy of “mutually assured destruction” (a.k.a., a Mexican standoff) and the construction of backyard bomb shelters, air raid drills in schools, and teaching kids to sit under their desks…as if that would do any good in an atomic bomb attack.

Why?

It should come as no surprise that since I am a psychiatrist I might have some interest in human behavior, Although you could legitimately question if some of our world’s worst tyrants mentioned in this paper are really human. As a teenager during that great war I was subjected to a lot of news of the atrocities carried out under the direction of these people who at first glance would seem to be free of a mental illness. One of my friends had occasion to spend a great deal of time with Saddam Hussein following his capture. He was surprised to find him quite personable. In one of their conversations Saddam stated that he acted as he did because it was necessary to save his country. I am left to wonder if he really believed that, and if is such a rationalization is common among Tyrants.

After endless years of speculation as to what makes these guys tick, they remain a mystery to me. We psychiatrists are well versed in labeling various conditions, but not so good at finding causes. I am aware and concur that power corrupts, but still after those years of mental gymnastics I remain perplexed as to how these otherwise apparently normal people can do such evil deeds. Even more puzzling is how they are able to convince masses of people to follow their lead and participate in the torture and murder of others.

Nuremberg Trials

With the end of the war members of the Nazi hierarchy were rounded up and charged with “crimes against humanity.” I was 16 years old and found time to follow the trials in Nuremberg in spite having recently found the love of my life.

There apparently was some effort to learn something about these guys for I recently found they were all given Rorschach tests (these tests are now discredited by many). Herman Goering was second in command in Germany under Hitler, and I recently found a transcript of his testimony. He was surprisingly open about the operation of his government and freely discussed the operation of the concentration camps and how adversaries were ordered to be killed by the SS or Gestapo. He was sentenced to be hanged, but managed to have cyanide smuggled in and killed himself.

Although, I knew the story of Goering’s suicide it was only recently that I learned there was a very interesting and strange sequel to the story. Goering had been examined by an Army psychiatrist by the name of Lt. Col. Douglas Kelly. He apparently shared some of my curiosity as to what made these guys the way they were. He is said to hope he would be able to identify what he called a “Nazi personality” which could be identified before such bad guys could come to power. From the story it sounds as if he was suffering from a serious mood disorder, which must have gone undetected by the army. In any event, after a minor disagreement with his wife he ingested cyanide and killed himself in front of his wife and children a la Goering.

True to the Biblical prophecies we have continued to “hear of wars and rumors of wars.” I was one of the lucky ones for my brief stint in the Navy was in between wars. It seems I will go to my grave with no understanding of why we do what we do to our own species. I have some ideas, but none seem to make sense. Perhaps we should add another diagnostic category called evil people to our diagnostic manual.

Thanks for the Memories

On this cheery note I leave you all to ponder those ways of the world which are beyond my understanding. I do want to thank Peter for suggesting this topic. The reminiscences have been fun, and as I have mentioned before that is the thing we old folks do best. It has also reminded me to be grateful for having been born in a time and place where I was loved, and for the good fortune that has accompanied me all these years.

The Way It Was| Part 9

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength.
While loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao Tzu

EDITOR’S Note:

Welcome to Part 9 of “The Way It Was” (Eshrink’s memories of WWII from the perspective of a young boy). This will NOT be the last chapter of our series as I had written previously. The FINAL installment will be Part 10: Life After Victory (plus, 10 signifies completeness/order…seems odd ending this incredible series on a 9). In this post, Part 9, Eshrink takes us through the end of the war. What he remembers and new information he uncovered during his research.

The Allied Forces were referred to as the Big 3 WWII. The Big Three were Great Britain, the United States, and the Soviet Union with their leaders being Winston Churchill (right), Franklin D Roosevelt (middle) and Josef Stalin respectively.

After the invasion of German-held countries (D-Day), things began to look up as the allies made substantial gains, although those telegrams kept coming and daily we saw blue stars in many windows turn to gold. Patriotic fervor never wavered and with better news from Europe there was more focus on the Pacific theater (I always wondered who came up with the term theater, and if he really thought war was entertaining).

According to the FDR Library/Museum (go to: fdrlibrary.org – it is a wealth of information), this is the last picture of FDR, which was taken April 11, 1945 (the day before his death) at Warm Springs, Georgia.

As you might expect there was wild jubilation in the streets all over the country with the defeat of Germany and Italy (V-E day or Victory in Europe Day) in May 1945, almost a year to the day that my brother had been drafted, and one month after the death of Roosevelt, who had served nearly 12 years in office.

Mussolini was summarily executed and his body mutilated by partisans. Hitler had committed suicide along with his longtime lover, Eva Braun. Actually, Mussolini was executed with his mistress, Claretta Petacci, also.

I do remember there were rumors that Hitler had escaped and the body found was not his, but there seemed little doubt about the fate of Mussolini as his body was hung out for all to see (Editor’s note: in all fairness, the caption from the picture of Mussolini and his mistress hanging in the center of Milan says the “fascists” who were executed, including Mussolini and Petacci, were hung in the exact spot where civilians from Milan had been hung a year earlier after being executed on Mussolini’s orders for being part of “resistance” activities).

In days, it would all be over and the dancing in the streets would begin with confidence that Japan would soon fall. The most shocking of all those incidents during the final days was the death of Goebbels, who poisoned his six children before killing his wife and himself. In some way this seemed the most heinous of all the millions of evil crimes committed by these mass murderers, and it has stuck with me to this day. It remains beyond my comprehension how someone could kill his own kids, though it is true, he did have a lot of experience murdering innocent children.

All this took place in a matter of weeks after a woefully unprepared new President was sworn in. Harry Truman was chosen by FDR for Vice President as one who could help him carry the Midwest. He was not included in FDR’s inner sanctum, and it has been said they did not even like each other. In July of 1945, the atomic bomb was successfully tested at Los Alamos and Truman was faced with the choice of what to do with it. He was later discovered to have written: “It is an awful responsibility that has come to us”. (This links to a series of articles about that difficult decision Truman made). He was of course referring to the decision to use the bomb on Japan. Having served in WWI as an artillery captain, he knew something of the horrors of war. He had distinguished himself as a Senator, was the only President of the 20th century that hadn’t attended college, although he was proud to say he had read every book in the Independence Missouri Public Library. He kept a sign on his desk which said The Buck Stops Here, and indeed in this case, it did, for few would want the responsibility which rested on him.

With the defeat of the Germans, and the Japanese fleet and air force nearly destroyed, it was obvious Japan would not last long. Nevertheless, there was continued concern about the fighting to come, due to the Japanese honor code, which prescribed that one must fight to the death. Even more extreme was the requirement that high-ranking officers must literally fall on their swords if defeated in battle. Thus, the fighting in the island jungles continued. It was brutal but futile. To make matters worse, Russia declared war on Japan, and Russians were not known to be very gentle occupiers as evidenced by their European conquests.

My memories of the fall of our European foes are clear, but I don’t know if we were informed as to what was going on with Japan in the time that followed. I have since learned that Japan had indicated their desire for a peaceful settlement. I do recall the term “unconditional surrender” voiced a lot by our new President, and I believe I heard the term used once by General MacArthur, the chief of military operations in the Pacific. An invasion of Japan was in the planning stages and expected to result in as many if not more casualties than in Normandy. The potential for invasion was achieved during the Battle of Okinawa when we took the island of Okinawa, which proved to be the most bloody conflict of the entire war as mentioned previously.

With the taking of Okinawa, the Japanese mainland was within reach of our bombers and Tokyo was basically destroyed with a firebombing even more devastating and with more loss of life than either Germany’s Blitzkrieg of London or our firebombing of Dresden. In researching for this blog, I was surprised to learn that those saturation bombings of Japan had killed more people by far than both atomic bombs. In spite of the obvious hopelessness of their position, the Japanese showed no sign of surrender. Their kamikaze pilots continued their suicide missions, and many of their soldiers chose suicide rather than capture. With that in mind, our military predicted invasion of Japan would result in an even higher body count than previous operations.

On August 6, 1945, a B-29 with the name Enola Gay would become famous as the first plane to deliver an atom bomb.

It flew from the Marianna Islands to deliver the most efficient killing machine yet. Indeed, we had come a long way since those days of one-on-one killings with clubs or spears.

Little Boy The Atom Bomb used to end WWII

The Atomic Bomb nicknamed “Little Boy” before it was loaded onto the Enola Gay.

When the bomb dubbed “little boy” went off, the entire city of Hiroshima, along with 80,000 people, were incinerated.

But that was only the beginning for untold thousands who would subsequently suffer from various forms of cancer, organ failure and genetic diseases in the years to come. Three days after Hiroshima, Nagasaki would suffer the same fate.

Over 50 years later, I found myself treating a former Navy medical officer who was one of the first to enter the ruins where that city once stood. He was still tormented by memories of what he saw there. There is no denying that in spite of the horror of those two days, the strategy was effective. Just a few days after Nagasaki, Emperor Hirohito ordered the “unconditional surrender” demanded by the Allies.

Truman Oval Office announcing surrender of Japan

President Truman in the Oval Office announces the surrender of Japan.

The term “celebration” does not do the public reaction justice, and was probably exceeded only by the elation felt by those troops who were already preparing for the assault on the mainland of Japan. They must have been aware of the thousands who had died on the beaches of Normandy, and there were expectations that a mainland invasion would be even more deadly.

Celebrations in Times Square

The image that has become the symbol of the end of WWII. This was made famous by LIFE magazine. It was taken in Times Square upon the announcement that Japan had surrendered.

The movie newsreels showed images of the wildly spontaneous celebrations throughout the country, but they also showed a mushroom cloud (filmed at Los Alamos) as it rose ominously toward the heavens. In some ways, that enthusiasm was to be tempered by the implications raised with the development of such an unbelievably destructive weapon.

As more news became available as to not only the deaths but possible long-term effects of radiation exposure, Truman’s decision to use the bomb was called into question by many. Later, we learned that Germany had been on the verge of developing their own version and the scourge that continues to haunt us was inevitable. We were now well on our way to developing the power to create our own version of an apocalypse, and the cold war soon began with Russia.

Our boys, as we called them, were soon on their way home to be greeted as heroes. There were home coming celebrations everywhere. The patriotic fervor persisted or even increased. The 4th of July celebrations were spectacular and veterans of all stripes were treated as special. The marriage business flourished as the vets were reunited with the girls they had left behind, and many brought wives home with them. There were happy days, except for those who returned with injuries or illnesses suffered in the fighting. Even the politicians were united and nice to each other in spite of some differences in opinions or policies.

My Brother

My brother died a few years ago and at his funeral was an 8×10 photo of him in uniform with an army issue Colt 45 strapped to his waist. I was amazed at how young and innocent he looked, and I realized that we really had sent kids off to fight a war. Upon his return, two years after that picture was taken, he had aged beyond his years. Like most combat veterans, he never wanted to talk of his experiences. But I once heard him talking to another vet about the cruelty exhibited by some of our soldiers, and in particular one solider in his squad who was ordered to take a prisoner back to the POW camp. Soon after leaving, they heard a gun shot. The soldier returned with a smile on his face and said “he tried to escape.” This confirmed my opinion that war does terrible things to both the victor and the vanquished.

My brother’s discharge was quietly celebrated. I was particularly enthralled with the contents of his G-I duffel bag, which proved to be full of all kinds of goodies including a luger pistol which had been confiscated from a German officer. Then I noticed a blue box with the U S Seal on it, which he quickly took from me saying something like, “That is just some of that junk the Army passes out.” Of course, I would never let that sort of thing rest without my perusal and when I opened it, there was a Bronze Star with the citation that he had made his way through enemy lines at great danger to himself to notify headquarters of his company’s location, which resulted in the rescue of his company that was surrounded by superior forces. He also brought with him a special gift for me, an attack of scabies, took little note of my protests, and reported that such things were standard issue to dogfaces like himself.

Editor’s Note: Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for Eshrink’s final installment, The Way It Was: Part 10, where he touches on the aftermath of the war, the good and the bad.

The Way It Was| Part 8

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength.
While loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao Tzu

Welcome to Part 8 of The Way It Was from Eshrink. In Part 7, Eshrink covered Pearl Harbor “A day that will live in infamy” and the beginning of America’s involvement in World War II (the war to end all wars). We left off with the Allies struggling as Hitler dominated Europe.

The turning point of the war began with the invasion of the German-held countries. The date of the attack continues to be referred to as D-Day. In spite of massive casualties on both sides, there was a new-found sense of optimism that we were no longer on the defensive (and that the paper hanger with the Charlie Chaplin mustache would soon get his!). Editor’s Note: This is referring to Hitler. When I searched, I found this book online about underground humor in Nazi Germany…back to Eshrink.

I must be a latter-day Rip Van Winkle for it is impossible that 75 years have passed since that fateful day when we were all transfixed in front of the radio hoping for good news, convinced rightfully so, that the fate of the world was at stake. There were massive casualties on both sides, but landings were eventually successful. One of Barb’s favorite uncles later reported to her that he carried a photo of her in his wallet as a good luck charm as he landed on Normandy beach. It must have worked for he survived.

The War in the Pacific

Meanwhile, the war in the pacific had turned around following the naval victory at Midway, but the heavily fortified islands of the pacific were being stubbornly defended by Japanese troops who were products of a society in which surrender was dishonorable, and death was preferred. In desperation, their leaders had ordered suicide attacks on our ships, and there was a lot written about these Kamikaze attacks as planes loaded with bombs deliberately crashed onto the decks. Each island was taken with heavy casualties in an inhospitable climate. Eventually, MacArthur was able to fulfill his promise, “I shall return,” with carefully staged filming following the retaking of the Philippines.

We heard much about unfamiliar places like Guam, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa. The fighting was fierce, often hand to hand. In Okinawa, for example, 12,500 Americans were killed, an estimated 100,000 Japanese and at least that many civilians. There must have been more newsmen imbedded in the Pacific as I recall viewing more footage in the Movietone newsreels shown in local theaters (click here to watch the video recording). There seemed to be more disturbing footage of the Pacific Theater than the European. One that has stuck with me all these years was of a soldier using a flamethrower at the mouth of a cave and the subsequent scene of a Japanese soldier running out totally enveloped in flames. On the other hand, we cheered wildly at the footage of the now famous flag raising on Mt. Suribachi on Iwo Jima. Editor’s Note: Iwo Jima was the deadliest battle in Marine Corps history with 7,000 soldiers killed during the 36-day battle.

Caption: Marines go ashore at Iwo Jima, Japan, in February 1945.

Caption: General McArthur in the Philippines circa 1944.

A Country Simultaneous United and Divided

As our troops in Europe advanced to reach the prison camps where an estimated 6,000,000, or perhaps more, Jews were killed, we saw more pictures of the horrific condition of the starving prisoners and of the open mass graves of thousands. Perhaps this opened our eyes to the dangers of racial prejudice. At that time, Jews were still not treated well in our town, for example they were excluded from membership in the local country club. There was also the instance in which a shipload of Jews who had escaped from Germany were refused entrance into the U. S. and were forced to return to Germany. There seems to be no information as to their fate. I also recalled all those conversations about the “New York Jews” and was struck by the fact that we were fighting to liberate people whom it seemed we did not like.

Although the country was perhaps more united than it had ever been politically, we were still divided along racial and country of origin lines. There were usually a few black kids in the schools that I attended, but my interaction was limited, not by any conscious effort on my part. I naively thought that they just enjoyed being with their own. We were not openly segregated as in the deep South, but everyone “knew their place” so to speak. The fact that there was a separate public swimming pool for “negroes” or that they did not eat in restaurants, that they always sat in the balcony at the movies, or that there was only one night of the week when the skating rink was open to them “was just the way things were,” and I didn’t think much about it.

Segregation in the Military

As for the military, things were not much different than they had been during the Civil War. Black troops lived in separate quarters and were organized into different companies which were of course led by white officers, except for those who were assigned duty as stewards or mess hall workers. There were some exceptions and when given the chance, they proceeded to disprove the notion that they were lazy, stupid, and cowardly.

Two of the 150 students in my medical school class were black, one of which was Bob Garrison, a very quiet unassuming guy who seemed a bit older than most of us. A few months ago, I learned that Bob had died after a long career as a family physician. I managed to secure an obituary and found to my surprise that Bob had been one of the Tuskegee airmen who had distinguished themselves in combat. It was not until 1948 that Truman would desegregate the services. Bob had followed the tradition of WWII vets and had not told anyone in our class about his service.

Some time in the 50s, I happened to be reading an article in an old Reader’s Digest written by the first black guy to be commissioned as an officer in the Navy. The story was about his rise to this unheard-of position, and the problems he encountered. There were some enlisted men who could not salute a black person no matter his position. His problems mounted when he was assigned to sea duty, which meant living in close quarters with a bunch of white guys. He reported that there was one fellow officer on board who was supportive, and helped him survive the bigotry. The surprise for me was that the person he named was my second cousin whom I hadn’t seen in years. It was a nice feeling to know I was related to this person who did the right thing, a sense of pride somehow, even though I hardly knew him.

Women and The War Effort

There is little doubt in my mind that the war was an additional impetus for opening up opportunities for women. After all, it had been barely 20 years since women were granted the right to vote. Although they continued to be treated unfairly in many ways, they were at least given the opportunity to demonstrate their ability to do “man’s work.” It was inevitable that with the incredible expansion of manufacturing for the war effort coupled with the problem of 16 million men serving in the armed forces, there would be a shortage of manpower. One answer to the problem lay in the attempt to recruit women to leave the kitchen and go to work to support the war effort. There were posters glorifying “Rosie the Riveter” showing an attractive young woman working on an airplane assembly line. As I mentioned previously, my mother was a Rosie who seemed happy to return to her kitchen after the war.

In previous wars, the only women directly involved were nurses, but this time a movement was begun to create a women’s branch of the army. With a great deal of hesitation, the Woman’s Army Corps (WACs) was established soon to be followed by the Navy’s version called Waves. They were to fill non-combatant roles designed to free up more male soldiers for combat. The Air Force version of these “helpers” was never inducted into the Air Force and remained civil service employees. They were to be involved in non-combat missions but nevertheless suffered some casualties. Although they were never to be involved in combat, some missions, delivering airplanes to a war zone for example, often put them at risk.

As I reflect on the pre-war days, it seems to me that the greatest change from the war was with women. Those changes were monumental for them and catastrophic for us guys. The oft asked question of who wears the pants in the family took on new meaning since women were now routinely wearing pants, which among some groups had previously been considered sinful. The war finished off those Victorian values that had survived the Roaring 20s. Although detailed discussions remained off limits, a person could now use the word sex the in polite company without being thought “dirty.” Women openly smoked cigarettes, which had always been the province of men, and no longer made any attempt to hide their pregnancies. The “sugar and spice and everything nice” characterization of females no longer seemed appropriate. Although the “battle of the sexes” was still in full swing, the stage was being set for the unconditional surrender of our masculinity and admission of defeat. The evidence is everywhere. For example, when I went to medical school in the 1950s there were three women in a class of 150 (Class of 1957), while in this year’s class women outnumbered men. Then, there is that spectacle of all those women in positions of power at the State of the Union address. Its enough to make a macho guy like me tremble.

There had been certain positions felt appropriate for women such as secretarial work, domestic help, switchboard operators, and cleaning. School teachers, especially those in the lower grades, were almost all women. They were usually unmarried, chaste, and expected to remain so. The nursing profession had a long-held tradition as exclusively female. Additionally, their long-held position in society as nurturers was felt to make them well-suited for the job. Some cynics insist that it is more likely due to men’s aversion to emptying bed pans.

American Industry and The War Effort

Meanwhile, this newfound talent participated in what at the time seemed miraculous. Indeed, some historians have suggested that the war was actually won by the massive mobilization of American industry. Planes that previously took weeks or even months to build, were now turned out in days. We heard much about liberty ships designed to carry all the desperately needed instruments of war to Europe. In just a couple of years, 2,710 such ships were built, and they were sitting ducks for the German U-boats. I remember hearing much about their dangerous voyages, but it was not until writing these memoirs that I learned more than half of them (1554) were sunk. It was said that we just decided to build more ships than the Germans could sink. A new shipyard was built in 150 days and the record time to build a ship was an unbelievable 4 days 15 hours and 25 minutes. Yankee ingenuity had used Henry Ford’s assembly line procedures and huge sections of the ship were produced in factories all over the country, and sent by railroad flatcar to the shipyard where the sections were put together and the ship was sent on its way.

Editor’s Note: Thanks for reading “The Way It Was: Part 8” I hope you will tune in for the final installment next week.

The Way It Was| Part 7

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength.
While loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao Tzu

Welcome to Part 7 of The Way It Was from Eshrink. We pick up where we left off in Part 6, where Eshrink describes the mood of the country before the USA was foisted into WWII.

THE WAR YEARS

The debate about America’s neutrality was dramatically resolved December 7th 1941 with the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, a day which according to Roosevelt “will live in infamy.” The memory of that day has never dimmed with every detail remaining firmly etched in my brain. We were visiting my Maternal Grandparents, and had just finished one of my grandmother’s fabulous Sunday dinners of chicken fried in that old cast iron skillet, which was where she worked her magic. Dad had recently completed wiring of their house and their new Zenith radio was playing as we sat finishing the mince meat pie. Suddenly Dad jumped up and ran to the living room and turned up the volume. Grandad was severely hearing impaired so Dad shouted in his ear that we had been attacked by the Japs. On our return back to our house, our radio was blasting out the bad news. The “sneak” attack had come without warning. Several of our ships had been sunk, but there was no accounting yet of the number of casualties. I went upstairs and laid across the bed aiming my brother’s 44-40 Winchester at our backyard vowing to take out any of those slant-eyed devils who might show up.

The next day, not much could be accomplished in Mr. Davidson’ sixth grade class so he used the entire day to discuss current events. Our morning Pledge of Allegiance was so loud, it was almost boisterous. When Roosevelt’s speech to congress was broadcast over the school intercom, the room became deathly quiet. With the completion of that speech, I was even more eager to take up arms. I was not alone, for recruiting offices all over the country were swamped with potential enlistees. Two days later, war was also declared on Germany and Italy. Both countries had joined Japan in an agreement that came to be called the Axis Powers Act and therefore they were assumed to be aligned with Japan.

Fear and Anger

The sense of security we felt due to physical distance from our adversaries had been replaced by fear of invasion. With our Pacific Fleet decimated, there was concern that the Pacific Coast could come under attack, and those living in coastal area were urged to be alert. There was not only fear, but anger. There were rumors of saboteurs not only amongst Japanese residents, but those of Japanese ancestry. Conspiracy theorists promoted the perception that all Japanese were by nature devious and that their loyalty would always be to the Motherland no matter their status in the United States. This would later lead to the shameful internment of thousands of people of Japanese ancestry in total violation of The Constitution that we were defending.

Many years later, I would come to know a fellow physician who had begun his life in one of the internment camps. He had little memory of the experience, but told how his parents and grandparents had owned valuable land in California that was sold for taxes while they were interred. They came out of the camp destitute.

The next day, December 8, the Japanese invaded the Philippines. The Rape of Nanking had already gained the Japanese a reputation for cruelty, which was confirmed by what became known as the Bataan Death March. Somehow, news had reached us about the barbaric treatment suffered by our soldiers following the conquest of the Islands, and our anger morphed into hatred. Roosevelt’s insistence that we were woefully unprepared for war was proven correct. However; it seemed as if the country had turned on a dime and the “war effort” was instantly in full swing.

The War Effort

It seemed that almost overnight factories all over the country were converted to producing war materials. Automobile manufacturing was instantly converted to the production of jeeps, trucks, ambulances and tanks, and planes. Soon warplanes were rolling off assembly lines in numbers no one had ever imagined possible. New factories were built in a matter of weeks rather than months. There was hardly any industry that wasn’t involved in providing war materials. Almost instantly, military training facilities became tent cities as the number of draftees and enlistments skyrocketed. Draft boards were busy categorizing potential draftees as to who should be deferred due to each person’s importance to the war effort as civilians. Those ineligible or unfit for service were classified as 4-F while those whose card was stamped 1-A would soon be on their way.

All In | Everyone Participated in the War Effort

There were many ways for all to contribute to the war effort, and the of feeling of being united in the grand cause undoubtedly did much to contribute to morale and patriotism. And patriotic we were. We kids collected scrap metal, paper, and rubber. There were paper drives in school. We saved our pennies to buy war bond stamps to be used in the war effort. We were deluged with propaganda from radio, newspapers, posters, and perhaps most effective of all, the movie newsreels. Hollywood also got into the act with movies featuring our heroic fighting men and the demonic behavior of the enemy. It was all very effective and probably necessary in order to mobilize and unite us.

Rationing cards were distributed to cover some foods, in anticipation of the needs of the those in the armed services. There was also rationing of gasoline, and other petroleum products, along with shoes, and clothing. I recall that restrictions on coffee and tires were particularly stringent. Tires were especially important in those days since they were made exclusively of rubber which was imported. As the war went on, tires became more precious and it wasn’t uncommon for a person to awaken to find his car on jacks without tires. When a car was wrecked, the first thing salvaged was the tires. When I worked at Dad’s service station during the later years of the war, I remember we did a brisk business patching tires and tubes in an attempt to get a few more miles out of “bald” tires.

Not All Ration Cards Were Equal

Every household had their ration book and every auto had a sticker on their windshield announcing their status. The A sticker was for those without special needs, the B and C stickers were for those whose driving was essential to the war effort. There were no self-service gas stations in those days and it was the attendant’s job to collect the appropriate stamp along with the customer’s money. Likewise, the station would be responsible to match the stamps to the amount of gas sold.

The Good. The Bad. And the Opportunists.

It has been said that war brings out the best and the worst in people, and it was inevitable profiteers would emerge from the midst of the patriots. It didn’t take long for a vigorous black market to develop. Although; I had no personal experiences in that regard, it was clear that those people were considered unpatriotic. Certain things were particularly valuable. For example, nylon stockings had recently been invented and were highly prized. Unfortunately; nylon was also needed to make parachutes and the resultant scarcity made the stockings very valuable. Likewise, a tire with little tread left could bring much more than the cost of a new one. A guy with a gas can and a siphon hose could find ready customers for his product. Car care became important for there would be no new cars until the war was over.

Actually, there were ample opportunities for profit without skirting the law. Companies with government contracts, which included manufacture, construction, and transportation were billed on a cost-plus basis. Consequently, there was no need to cut costs because the nature of the “cost-plus basis design” meant the higher the costs, the more the profit the company being contracted.

The Entrepreneurial Spirit Thrived

There were many rags to riches stories, but my favorite took place in my own town. He was a Hungarian immigrant who still had trouble with the English language and was frequently seen in the streets all over town pushing a wooden cart mounted on two wagon wheels. He scoured the neighborhoods for any trash of value. As the war progressed, the need for metals of all kinds increased, and Harry had a large stockpile in his back yard. There had been many complaints about Harry’s messy place, but as the scrap and paper drives went into full force, Harry became the go-to guy who could buy and sell the scrap. He became quite wealthy. His son was in my class in High school and was the only kid to come to school in a suit and tie. He subsequently became a lawyer, moved to Hollywood, and used his considerable inheritance to invest in the motion picture business. One newsreel in particular sticks with me. It must have been early in the war as it showed groups of solders training with wooden replicas of rifles. The film was to demonstrate the need for scrap metal of all kinds that could be melted down to make guns.

Support and Spirit AND Opportunity

It seemed that everyone was involved in the war effort as it was called. There was the USO whose volunteers were present wherever there were uniforms, passing out coffee and donuts and schmoozing the troops. Women were busy knitting socks and scarves and sending “care packages” hoping the cookies would survive the trip. Women were entering the workforce and doing jobs never felt appropriate for them in the past. “Rosie the Riveter” was hailed as a heroine. Factories were in need of more employees as most began running three shifts. The word was that there was big money to be made in the defense plants sometimes as much as a dollar an hour. This got Dad’s attention besides, they needed him in the war effort since he was too old to serve so he quit his man killing job, and went to Akron where he went to work the second shift at the recently built (in record time) Goodyear Aircraft factory where they were turning out Corsair fighter planes at a record clip.

Many had the same idea as Dad and housing was very scarce, but he found two rooms behind a barber shop on the south side of Akron (not exactly a posh neighborhood) and called for us to come join him. Mom got a job on the same shift doing some clerical work, and even my brother, who had just turned 16, worked there filling vending machines throughout the plant. Schools were so crowded that classes were only held in two four-hour shifts per day. Initially, I enjoyed the solitude of being home alone. I was able to spend my evenings in the darkened barber shop watching the occasional fights outside the beer joint across the street. I even had free reign to sample the many hair tonics. School in Akron was a bummer. There was a lot of racial tension largely due to a an unusual number of southerners who had migrated north to cash in on those high wages, and were unaccustomed to dealing with uppity black folks.

I was unhappy and my request to go live with my maternal grandparents was honored, but that is another story (which I have written about previously). Editor’s Note: The story of Eshrink’s experience during WWII while he stayed at his grandparents’ farm is available as a free pdf download at this link or you can purchase the hard copy here. It’s a great read…it makes me feel like I’m catapulted back in time.

Blue Star Families

Almost immediately after Pearl Harbor blue stars started appearing in windows, and soon many would be taken down in favor of gold ones. Parents lived in dread of the appearance of a Western Union messenger praying that he would not stop at their house with the “we regret to inform you…..” message in the pouch they carried. My brother graduated from high school in May of 1944 having reached his 18th birthday in April. In October he would find himself pinned down in the famous Battle of The Bulge. What letters received were by V-mail, a system in which written letters were reduced in size and printed on very thin paper in order to reduce the amount of space and weight required to ship them. Although soldiers were forbidden to say where they were or what they were doing in combat, it soon became obvious to my parents that he was there, since no letters had arrived in a long time. The plight of the troops was big news and Mom and Dad sat by the radio listening to their favorite commentators at every opportunity. I believe they attempted to minimize the danger in order to protect me, but our family was among the lucky ones for whom the telegraph never came.

The First War Correspondents

Print media was still king of the news gathering business, and correspondents like Ernie Pyle soon became household names. He put himself in the midst of the action, and sent home stories of personal hardship and bravery on the part of the GI Joes. His stories were always on a very personal level, harvested from direct observation or conversations with those spending time in fox-holes.

After covering the European theater, he moved on to The Pacific and was killed by Japanese machine gun fire. Of those who commanded our rapt attention on the radio, the most famous was Edward R. Murrow, who broadcast from London during the Blitz. He recorded his experiences on multiple bombing missions over Europe, and at times one could hear the sound of anti-aircraft. These flights were not without danger…over 2,000 planes were lost prior to D-Day, according to war department records. After the war, Murrow made the switch to television once that new medium was introduced.

Early in the war, things did not look good. The Japanese were having their way in the Pacific, England was vulnerable, and invasion was felt to be imminent. Air raid drills were conducted routinely, even in our small town in the Midwest. In fact, my future father-in-law was an air-raid warden. In spite of all this we were deluged with propaganda touting the certainty of victory, not only due to our physical strength, but the righteousness of our cause. It was fashionable to show Churchill’s “Digital V” for victory sign, and difficult to find a place where there was not a poster with Uncle Sam pointing his finger: telling you to buy bonds, conserve, collect, contribute, or sign up!

Editor’s Note: THANKS for reading! Stay tuned for the next installment where Eshrink walks us through the turning point of the war…spoiler alert (the good guys won!)

The Way It Was| Part 6

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength.
While loving someone deeply gives you courage.
Lao Tzu

Introduction: Welcome to Part 6 of The Way It Was from Eshrink. In Post 5, Eshrink wrote about his memories of the late 1930s (pre-war for Americans, but wartime for Europe). He also described everyday life, the values and customs of the day, as well as working conditions that he remembers from his dad’s stories working at a tile factory. In Part 6: Eshrink will write about his first experience with death, which is one reason he posits that he remembers this pre-war period so clearly.

The Way It Was: Part 6

Death | Funerals | Customs

Meanwhile, ”across the pond,” the German panzers were on their way to achieving their goal of world domination. In October 1939 Hitler invaded Poland. I recall the name Neville Chamberlain being disparaged, but later learned that his sin was in attempting to appease Hitler in order to spare England from attack.

It seemed that everyone except him knew that there would be no stopping the Germans until they had punished all of Europe for Germany ‘s defeat in WWI. Those dates are remembered by me since the death of my paternal Grandfather was during the Russian invasion of Finland, which happened three months after Germany conquered Poland. As we listened to the news, I was enthralled by stories of how, although hopelessly outnumbered, a few brave Fins had held off the entire Russian army with soldiers attacking on skis. That would not be the last propaganda we would hear designed to bolster our spirits.

Death

My Grandfather’s death was illuminating in several ways. This was my first experience in dealing with death, and I didn’t like it. I visited him with Dad just two days before his death. He was on his death bed as the saying goes and suffering from pneumonia, which has been called the “old man’s friend.” In years to come, I would hear Dad express regrets that he had not complied with his Father’s last wish to bring him a bottle of Muscatel wine. As was the custom, when my grandfather died, he was laid out in the parlor for all to see. There was a steady stream of visitors to offer both regrets and food. In spite of the sadness of the occasion, I was enamored with all those goodies the ladies left on the kitchen table.

The burial was scheduled for three days after his death, which I have been told is just in case of a resurrection. Ostensibly, for the same reason, it was mandatory that someone stay with the body night and day during the “showing.” In this case, his children and their spouses took turns standing guard. I have since read that the custom actually originated due to the fear that rats might undermine the undertaker’s efforts and spoil the whole show. This particular death is also memorable because it was the only time I ever saw my Father cry.

It was customary to “take leave,” an exercise which took me by complete surprise! The entire family was herded into the parlor, the door was closed, and suddenly as if on cue, everyone began to sob. It was so loud that I cringed, and one of my aunts, who was famous for fainting at every opportunity, slipped from her husband’s arms and fell to the floor. Just as I thought of a way to escape, the sobbing suddenly stopped. Again, as if on cue, eyes were dried, the undertaker closed the casket, and we headed for church where Scud’s virtues were briefly extoled and we made ready for the short walk to the graveyard behind the church (grandad’s real name was Jesse but known in the community as Scud). Most of his friends would probably not even know his real name. One’s given name was only to be used by strangers. It had been a tough day, but all that pie and cake back at the house almost made up for it.

One of my regrets is that I feel as if I had never known either of my Dad’s parents very well in spite of having vague memories of visits there. Although Grandad apparently had serious problems with alcohol, it now seems to me that he has not been given credit for some major accomplishments. My one fond memory of him was when he introduced me to sugar on my tomatoes, which converted me to a tomato lover. At the viewing, one of his acquaintances referred to him as a “tough old bird” which might contribute to him becoming the subject of another blog in the future. It seems strange that I remember Grandma’s sister but little about Grandma. The sister hosted the annual family reunion at the large dairy farm where she lived in a grand farmhouse. We looked forward to these celebrations as they were great fun. There were cousins galore and an abundance of the participants’ favorite recipes. One of the highlights of the day was the performance by my great Uncle, who was an award winning “old time fiddler.”

Pre-War America as I Remember It.

During those prewar days, Europe took little notice of my small part of the world, but we were very concerned about what was going on over there. There was vigorous debate as to what extent the US should be involved. FDR had managed to increase military spending, and wanted to sell weapons to England. The isolationists were successful in their opposition to even peripheral involvement by US. Their view was that we were safe from attack due to the 3,000+ miles of ocean between–an idea that was soon to be squashed. FDR in one of his fireside chats announced that he was implementing a program he called “lend lease” in which we would lease rather than sell arms to England. He thereby by-passed Congress and everyone knew that Hitler’s submarines would be gunning for any transport of arms to Europe, which would inevitably lead to war. I was old enough to understand some of this, and listened to some heated debates on the subject.

Meanwhile, the Germans were gobbling up property as fast as their tanks could take it. They were conquering France with little difficulty, along with lesser countries. France had felt themselves impregnable due to the Maginot line; a series of fortifications lining their border with Germany. It was a marvel of engineering which I had read about in history class, but its effectiveness was lost when the Huns simply went around it, picking up Belgium in the process. With that they were able to surround the French and English forces leading to the disaster at Dunkirk as in the recent movie by that name.