All my old gal friends are pitching in and really writing nice letters. They’ll probably all be lined up at the depot and make me take my choice when I get back.—May 31, 1945
In his letters, my father often talked about the work his mother and other women were doing. They planted Victory Gardens and viewed the rationing of things like coffee, butter, and sugar, as their patriotic duty. My aunt Iris shared a story with me that exemplified just how deeply held patriotism was, even to the everyday citizen. She remembers her sacrifice of not wearing pantyhose, since nylon was needed for the war effort. The nylons that were fashionable back then had a seam that ran up the back of the leg. Without nylons to wear, Iris and her girlfriends came up with an ingenious solution: they took turns using a dark pencil to draw the line on each other’s legs, giving the look of nylons without wearing them.
There has been no generation quite like theirs. World War II pulled our country together in a way that may never be seen again. It was the good that came from the bad. I found numerous Internet sites that had nothing but page after page of information on what women did during WWII. The most famous, of course, was Rosy the Riveter, who exemplified that women could be strong and do the jobs of men. In communities all over the United States, women stepped in wherever they were needed.
Regardless, my father remains old fashioned when it comes to women. He holds the door open for women. He offers women his seat and, even in his eighties, he feels guilty if there’s a pregnant woman in the room and he is sitting in one of the few seats.
The attitude toward women in his letters made me laugh. It was such a different time. I just had to hear more. So I shot off a quick email to my father with seven little words, “Tell me about women during the war.” The following Wednesday, it was the topic of our conversation.
My Grandma Ruby, he told me, went to work at the railroad for her part during the war. My grandfather had worked for the Northern Pacific Railroad as an agent-telegrapher for years. So, when jobs there were suddenly left open, my grandmother went to work. It was a brand new role for her but she learned fast. She took over the bookkeeping. She taught herself to type and do the shipping and bookwork for the station. My father was clearly proud of his mother’s efforts—a bit baffled that she could actually do it, but proud nonetheless.
My father too had worked for the Northern Pacific Railroad before he left for boot camp. Much to his chagrin, he even had to train his replacement. Her name was Ruth. He recalls that she seemed to feel as lost about taking over as a telegrapher as he did about going off to war. While still in training, he was close enough to leave the base on weekends. He used his time to go home to Helix to check on how she was doing. Things were always in a shambles which infuriated him and pleased him all at the same time.
March 15, 1945
Dear Folks,
I still just count the hours until mail time.
Say mom you sure are going to town on your typing—I suppose it’s just old stuff now. When you get so you don’t try yourself out on a speed test every hour or so, you’re an old hand at it.
Gerry, keep away from my glove compartment. That’s the place everyone who rode with me used to grab for when they first got in the car. That’s where my assortment of grand pianos and drums were kept. If they could get that locked first everyone breathed a sigh of relief and settled down to a pleasant trip with no music.
Sure doesn’t seem to me like it’s almost five years since I got out of High School but then again, a couple of years at Helix and almost one in the Navy. One nice thing about it is my seniority still going on. Have three years & four months in five more days (As usual I can figure out an anniversary out of almost everything).
I don’t think Ruth is doing much of a job of bookkeeping in Helix. She really had a mess when I was there and didn’t know what to do next. She’ll just let things ride until an auditor begins to get a lot of complaints and tries to straighten her out. You know, things can ride for a long time down there and get in quite a tangle before any one discovers it. If I go back to Helix, I’m going to look things over first and if they aren’t in pretty good shape to start with, I’ll send for an auditor to clean things up so I can at least have a good start.
I was a little afraid the new seats would be left pretty large for the Fiat but as long as they are comfortable I guess it’s OK. Ought to be really swell for two people or even three now. Maybe you could rig up some “jump” seats in back to fold into the sides in back so you could haul a little coal or a bale of hay around. Sure would give a lot to be working on it. I think it’s the ideal rig to tinker with. Not as big and heavy as a standard size car so one man can handle everything pretty well. By the way, what did the seats cost you—or is it a military secret?
You guys will be mechanics yet. Necessity is the mother of invention you know. My start was having an old wreck (more than one) and no dough to hire the repairing done.
Write. Love, Murray
March 20, 1945
Dear Folks,
Really got a letter this time—from all three of you, and just to show how welcome even newspaper clippings are from home—I even read all that’s readable on the back side of them in hopes of picking up a little more stray information. Any time you’re in the mood I’d enjoy a Walla Walla or Spokane paper.
A dark cloud about an inch square just drifted over so of course it’s pouring rain now with the sun shining on all sides. This is a country I’d defy anyone to guess the weather in. About all you can predict safely is that there will be no snow. Suppose you folks must be having a little snow now and then. Sure would like to get my hands in some—although I’ve probably gone as long before this without seeing any.
And is the Fiat seat as soft as the Chev? That’s all I’m worried about. If so then you can just finish the old Chev I guess. Sure hope they send the parts a bit quicker this time from New York but then after all it really hasn’t been too long since you actually got the car to Dayton so I guess it’s not too bad. Sure seems like a lot longer than just a bit over three months ago that I was wandering around the living room trying to find something to do.
I’ll probably wire you guys & gals for a couple thousand when I hit the states for a new car to drive home in. You know how hard it is to get personal checks cashed in a strange town.
I think you should raise the roof about having to do any janitor work mom. That’s definitely agents work only—at least that’s what I was told. The section crew only works when some of the officials are there in person.
I’ll see what I can find in the way of t-shirts with Hula girls. Think it can be arranged. I don’t know the population of Honolulu but think about double Spokane.
Boy—the war news is sure coming in thick and fast this morning. Of course the Atlantic side doesn’t interest us much except to get the men over here to help end it quicker on this front. Sure good news on every side tho.
By the way, all I see out of my tent is another tent and miles of them beyond. If I raise my eyes a little I can take in the mountains but no ocean. Look right across the bay.
Write. Love, Murray
Once he was in the Pacific, my father wondered and worried about how the railroad station, and in particular his office, would look when he got back. But looking back now, he admits that his biggest fear was that Ruth would do such a great job that he wouldn’t have a job to come home to after the war.