December 7, 1941: We Enter the War

December 7, 1941: We Enter the War

Despite all of the destruction to lives and property that wars bring, the Second World War is unique in the history of the United States in that it captured the spirit of an entire country in an effort more united than at any other time. It is likely the economic hardships of the Great Depression that steeled the country’s resolve to get through the adversities of war. While perhaps that spirit of determination has been identified more clearly in retrospect, persons of any age who lived during that time will say that “people banded together” and the whole thrust of living focused on “the war effort,” from factories retooling to women joining the Armed Forces, and from the children’s contributions to composers creating the music of wartime. It was a very intense time, but one recalled as citizenry being instilled with a deep sense of service to others.

To support the war effort, six and a half million women went to work in factories, 350,000 joined the Armed Forces, and countless others assumed leadership roles in the community. Children went on a modern crusade, gathering everything from scrap metal to newspapers and silkweed; buying defense stamps once a week at school; and donating toiletry items, packing them in Junior Red Cross boxes to send overseas.

Everyone, young and old, realized that the way of life they had known was forever changed. With factories concentrating on the needs of war, the entire population of the country found they could “make do” without new products. Rationing became a way of life and coupon books determined wearing apparel and menus. We hadn’t realized at the time that our favorite dessert was really a way to not waste any milk by using it to make Junket.  

More inspiring than what the factories produced, however, was the dedication of an entire generation. Those young enough to have had their nurturing years embedded in this era saw this spirit of national cooperation as being normal, and in a strange way, the World War II era is viewed as one of the most secure times in which to grow up in small town America. Most important, this generation of children was, for the most part, happy.

We who were young children in 1941 were little aware of the war, not remembering the quiet Sunday afternoon when news of Pearl Harbor began to leak or that same evening when Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt took her husband’s place for his usual “Fireside Chat” because the President was in session with his advisors. What I do remember is the following day when the President spoke, concluding with these words, “I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.”[i] While not understanding his words, I will never forget how my father explained with simplicity all of what we had heard, “We are going to war.”

I remember wondering if “going to war” was anything like what my mother referred to as “battling the roaches.” Living not far from Anderson Creek which spilled into the Susquehanna River close to our house, Mother evidently had to be on guard against these miserable insects. My memory is of my mother’s hand holding a piece of bread that had been spread with a poison paste called J-O, then sprinkled with sugar, and of being sternly warned not to touch this under any circumstance. She evidently was concerned we might think it a lard sandwich which a cousin of hers relished. There were many things for a child to fear in addition to the Germans.

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[i] Evans, p. 309.

I'll Be Home for Christmas 2011

A reminiscence of

Christmas and Class Reunions

Christmas and Class Reunions have much in common. Both are celebratory, sometimes deeply emotional, and always a remembrance of things past. Both can affect one far beyond the actual experience and both are still magical in many ways.

While I enjoy family at Christmas, it is more the remembering of being a child than of watching the grandchildren that is most vivid—and poignant—to me. As many of you have experienced, some of the moments that bring a smile are seeing ourselves in the little ones—perhaps a facial feature or expression, a turn of phrase, a shrug of a shoulder, or a shared interest. It is particularly flattering (or frightening?) when someone mentions, “She reminds me of you.”

Christmas Eve is my time for reflection, thinking about family Christmases and growing up in Curwensville. I think most of us realized years ago that we had had a safe and loving childhood and we didn’t miss what we didn’t have. We took everything for granted; whatever was, simply was. We anticipated Christmas Day for weeks in advance and thought the day would never arrive. Did anyone actually make a Christmas wish list? Or go to the five and ten to tell Santa what you wanted for Christmas?

In some ways class reunions are similar to the process of Christmas. We anticipate the day and we have expectations and uncertainties—even after all these years. And while we are now more comfortable with one another (aren’t we?), we still hope we are not being misunderstood. And later, on the way home, we review and reflect—just like on Christmas Eve or the day after Christmas.

This past summer following our now annual class reunion my thoughts kept going through the hours of each event, recalling specifically where we were and what we were doing or talking about, almost minute by minute. I particularly relished the addition special time some of us had together just laughing and saying things we should have said (but couldn’t) to each other in high school. It was just so comfortable and real to be with good friends with no barriers and no discernible awkward moments. Who needed stars, anyhow?

I also found myself smiling laughing as I thought of the picnic Saturday afternoon in 100 degree heat. In particular there was Bob who always flirts with his complimentary, thinly veiled hints, but this year there was more a tinge of poignant regret or maybe it just made me realize how few years we all had left to gather together. Other special thoughts go to John E, regaling us with stories; John R, dressed in a gray shirt and pink tie (a classic in our class colors); Jim S., arriving in a restored 1956 Chevrolet; and dear Karen who brought our class flower in our class colors for the table.

There were very few awkward moments—just the usual “oops, I didn’t know you had remarried,” along with the self-righteous indignation of one who said she didn’t talk to people who used email…. Three of us there that afternoon were of four girls who had palled around together since forever, having met as toddlers at the same Sunday School—Ellen, Donna, and Judi, with Edie the only one missing, too many miles away. And all of this very similar to the personal emotions we encounter after the rest of the family goes home the day after Christmas. That is when I most miss the magic.

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The Teen-Age Center

The Teen-Age Center

(The following is an excerpt from the chapter, “Rock Around the Clock,” in Growing Up Silent in the 1950s: Not All Tail Fins and Rock ’n’ Roll, Yesteryear Publishing (forthcoming in 2012) Class of 1955, Curwensville Joint High School, Curwensville, Pennsylvania)

…

Above all activities, however, was the magic of the Curwensville Teen-Age Center. Its very name was a draw and we viewed this place as our own, our birthright, our haven, and our social hub. At the time we were unaware that local civic groups had joined forces to make young people’s activities not only a matter of civic pride,[i] but also a method to address the emerging threat of and heightened concern over juvenile delinquency. In the early 1940s the government had begun to encourage communities to sponsor what it called “teen clubs” and, when expert witnesses began testifying at Congressional hearings, claiming that if teens had a place to gather, there would be less juvenile delinquency, many small communities responded with centers where teenagers could have an opportunity to learn how organizations worked and to participate in the governance of these centers.

In Curwensville the Teen-age Center (its official name was Youth Center) was established in 1944 (and officially opened in April 1945) at the large and handsome C. Seymour Russell house on State Street, a generous gift to the community from William and J. Hamer Tate. This lovely, family home took on a new life with dancing, Ping-Pong, pool, a small library, a piano, and resident chaperones, the first being Mr. and Mrs. Willard Bloom, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Ray Smith. Two years later the Arthur Wolf Family donated a jukebox and 200 records. This was followed by alternations in the building to accommodate the demands for its use, as nearly every phase of community life used it for a meeting place, social events, and other uses, even as a place for birthday parties.

Mr. Lewis Wetzel, retired caretaker with the longest tenure at the now razed mansion, recently recalled the

State Street

location as a “beautiful place.” “There was a fireplace in nearly every room and every room was finished with a different type of wood,” he explained.  While caretaker responsibilities included housekeeping and landscaping duties at the large home, the main function was to oversee the large contingent of teenagers who gathered there several evenings each week. “We enjoyed those kids. We wanted them at the Teen-Age Center rather than on the streets,” Mr. Wetzel said.[ii]  Mr. and Mrs. Wetzel (Althea Kelly, known as “Sis” to her 1942 classmates) were young and energetic, and genuinely enjoyed their teen-age charges.

I had the utmost respect and admiration for the Wetzels.  They were your friends, and your substitute parents.  They mingled with the whole crowd, dancing with us, playing pool, and Ping Pong, and just sitting in the parlor room talking, laughing and visiting. I believe that they were the people who made this Center such a success. It was their association with the youth and their parents, and their genuine friendliness that kept the young people returning.  However, if there was any sign of trouble, Lew was there to reason things out.  And, out of the respect we all had for him, there was never any problems obeying what he said. Our parents knew we were safe at the Teen- Age center, and had no problem giving us the dime to attend.  Some of the most memorable times of my life.  Everyone thinks their high school years were their best.....I know MINE WERE.......                                 Donna Jean Swanson Malloy

 Admission to this Center was 10 cents unless there was a band when admission was 25 cents. If we didn't want to dance (or weren’t asked to dance) there were board games, Ping-Pong, pool tables, and a large library to absorb our feigned interest.[iii] Soft drinks and candy were available for purchase with proceeds used to buy new records. There was also a piano in one of the rooms which provided another way of socializing.  Not many of us played piano because there were not many piano teachers and most had had to forego piano lessons until the arrival of Mrs. Eileen Brown in the summer of ’54.  Because I had maintained my own interest in singing and accompanying, I often would be asked to play for those who wished to sing.

I went to the dance at the Center tonight.  I played for Jo Ellen to sing “Trying” with piano interlude and we sang a duet “Keep It a Secret.”   I also played a few numbers for Frankie Errigo, then I was asked to play for Donna Dale.                                                                                                    Diary, January 3, 1953

By the time we reached ninth grade, the Teen-Age Center was the place to be. Life would have been rather dull without this special location where we could practice our first, stumbling attempts at both shooting pool and dancing. Most of my classmates agree that the Teen-Age Center served as a social clearinghouse and was where we discovered that while we were flattered when older boys asked us to dance, this also meant that boys in our own class would forsake us for girls in the classes following ours. Having a sister one year younger made this pattern very clear in my own eyes, an observation shared by friends who also had younger sisters.

I went to the Center tonight with Edie and Shirley.  We played cards awhile with Bob and John.  Then I started to play ping-pong with Bob, but the kids kept turning the lights on and off, so we quit.  We went home, but Bob didn’t walk me home. I wish Edie would find someone to like, like Shirley and I do.  It would be lots of fun with three girls and three boys.                                         Diary, April 11, 1951

Tonight at the Center Ellen and I decided to turn over a new leaf.  Footloose and fancy free.  Out for a good time and get in on all the fun.  Hope we succeed. (We didn’t, but then no one else did either.) 

Diary, October 12, 1952

We frequented the Center during the week but flocked there most Saturday nights and following every home football game when the place was packed. We lined up inside the door, the cheerleaders first in line by privilege of their position, the rest of us—many of us band members—hanging back in the shadows, some not wanting to be seen dressed in our unbecoming band uniforms.

The recent interview with Lew Wetzel about the Curwensville Teen-Age Center also quotes the late John K. Reilly, Jr., Clearfield County's senior judge, recalling many hours at the Center during the early 1950s. Judge Reilly said he “has fond memories of the good times at the youth center. It was a great place for kids. There were never any problems there and it didn't matter whether you were Curwensville or Clearfield kids. It was the place to go on Friday and Saturday nights.”[iv]

Parents knew we were safe with the Wetzels watching out for us and we, of course, took all of this for granted, never realizing that we were privileged in having a Teen-Age Center and assuming—if we thought about it at all—that it had always been there.

Had a most wonderful time tonight!  I didn’t have to work, so I went up to the Center about 9:00. About 9:30, as usual, “Clearfield” arrived.  After awhile Clark came over and we sat and talked.  When he brought me home, he said that Reilly and he might be up tomorrow night, around 8.                                                                                                                                                  Diary, February 7, 1953

After work I started for the Center.  On the way I met John Reilly, Pat McElroy, and Clark in John’s car with the top down.  I got in and we went to the Center.  Clark asked me to dance but in the middle of the song he had to go over and talk to the boys.  Then they left.  He said good-bye, he’d see me tomorrow night at quarter to eight.  There’ll be 4 couples.  Bucky & Nancy, Max & Nancy, Lane and John Reilly, and Clark and I.  I wish John and Lane wouldn’t go with us, ‘cause Reilly always has to be home so darn early.                                                                                                    Diary, February 18, 1953

Went to the Mardi Gras, as planned.  I had a swell time.  Of all times, tonight Clark let John Reilly drive; we went straight home.  Clark said they’d be up to the Center on Saturday night, as usual.                                                                                                                            Diary, February 19, 1953

Of course, not all of us spent time at the Center. Some chose not to go for religious reasons, others lived beyond walking distance, some were working, others may have lacked social confidence,  some may not have seen any value in spending time there, and some were not permitted to go. The longing of these teens whose parents did not approve of the youth center was poignantly expressed during a recent conversation at a class reunion.

I was not allowed to go. I worked at Kantar's Friday and Saturday nights anyway. I would go to the football games and then go home. I was never inside the Center.                    A Classmate, 2010

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[i] Kent, pp. 232 – 246,

[ii] Byers, 2007.

[iii] It was through the efforts of the Woman’s Club that a branch of the Shaw Memorial Library was set up in the Center.  Initially there were 97 books with no fee for borrowing.

[iv] Byers, 2007.