The history of Christmas--World War II (part 7)

So, in sum, World War II, and the problems, the sadness, the sacrifices it brought…it meant that Christmas could be, well, problematic at times (much less so than today).

Due to rationing, for example, one of the favorite toys of American children in the 1940s-Lionel’s electric trains-were hard to find. The metals needed to make the train cars were not available. So, in 1943 Lionel put out a substitute—with the train cars made of cardboard! The cost? $0.79 cents a car.

Pajamas, cribs, playpens, cologne, handbags, and gloves filled out the hard-to-find list. (Thread and cloth were rationed, too.)

There was a shortage of alcoholic beverages in the United States during the war. Those who produced alcohol quit making the stuff needed for whiskey or bourbon, and instead concentrated on producing industrial alcohol, needed for war materials. So, when in 1943 a Washington DC liquor store advertised that it had come into a shipment of 8000 bottles of rye, bourbon, and Scotch in time for the holidays, a large crowd gathered outside the store late at night, and waited for 10 hours in the cold for its opening in the morning.

In Montgomery, Alabama, booze was so scarce that citizens there were allowed to buy only 1 pint of liquor per week, or two bottles of wine.

With sugar and some fruits rationed, jellied cranberries, a great favorite for Christmas dinners at that time, was almost impossible to make.

Just in time for Christmas 1942, the Office of Price Administration announced that the 30 million pairs of nylon pantyhose, about to be released in time for holiday sales, would be the last release until the end of the war.

And yet, as we have shown, Americans were determined to rejoice in the holiday, and celebrate it, anyway. And they did. A war wasn’t going to stop them. A writer for TIME magazine reported in late December 1942 that the singing of traditional Christmas carols, the hugs, the handshakes, had been more fervent that year than usual. “It would take more than a year of global war,” he wrote, “to dim out American good will.”

Some farming communities had plenty of food. Farmers, after all, could grow and raise as much food as possible, and the government encouraged them to do so. One mother, writing to her son overseas at Christmas, described a holiday dinner at church as “lovely…Baked chicken, fried chicken, country ham, dressing, salads, cakes, everything you could think of and want. Pretty tree and gifts for everyone.” Nor had she and the community forgotten him—she noted that the local Jaycees were about to send him a Christmas box full of candy.

In New York City at Christmas 1943, the store at Saks Fifth Avenue stayed open late into the evening three nights in a row in order to fill the customer demand. Macy’s had to hire 11,000 extra employees to keep up with the rush. In Chicago, shoppers waited in line for 25 minutes just to get in the door of Carson Pirie Scott’s. In Dallas, sales were up nearly 150% over the previous year. An America-watcher for the British embassy reported to London that America was now a wartime land of higher wages and “general boom atmosphere. Volume of sales (almost 60% above 1923-29 levels) of consumer goods to vast mobs of eager purchasers this Christmas has broken all records.”

And still…there were those magical moments, when the Christmas spirit, as always, shone through. Take for example a bus depot in Albert Lea, Minnesota, on Christmas Eve 1941. This was a little over two weeks after Pearl Harbor. The war had just begun, but most knew it would be a long one. The depot was full of servicemen and women, with holiday passes, all eager to get home to northern Minnesota. Many knew it would be their last Christmas together with their families for some time.

When the bus finally arrived, though, there were problems. All the seats appeared to be taken. The bus driver told all those waiting that there was no room. They would have to wait for the next bus, which might mean they wouldn’t make it home in time for Christmas. But wait—suddenly voices from the passengers on the bus became audible. Let them get on, they said. We’ll make room. If nothing else, they can sit on our laps.

And so they did. Everyone waiting in that depot was able to board the bus. Soon all were heading towards their homes, singing Christmas carols, sharing candy and cookies, and wishing a Merry Christmas to each person getting off at his stop. A rider on that bus recalled later that she could never remember feeling a greater sense of peace, fellowship, and contentment.

Many wartime couples chose Christmas time to get married. It was often the only time a man in the service could get any leave. One young couple made a quick decision to get married; and so they would do so in Long Beach, California at 1:30 a.m. in a church, before a surprised congregation full of strangers which had just finished midnight mass. It was the only church they could get on such short notice; it was the only time they could get. The bride’s wedding gown was a bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn to another wedding some months before; her flower was a gardenia purchased minutes before from a street vendor.

They were married for over 40 years.

On Christmas Eve 1942, in Gary, Indiana, a young woman named Anne and her aunt attended Christmas Eve services at their local church, as usual. It was snowing, and cold, but there was no bus service that night. So they walked home. As they approached a street corner, they saw two marines in uniform, obviously with no place to go. The marines politely wished them a Merry Christmas. They talked. And so Anne invited the two marines to their home for Christmas Eve dinner. They stayed until 4 a.m. A good time was had by all, and two men serving Uncle Sam didn’t have to spend the holidays alone.

But then, why wouldn’t these two women engage in this act of kindness? It was Christmas.

As the big guy in the red suit and white beard, who specializes after all in acts of kindness at Christmas, would say: happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

The history of Christmas--World War II (part 6)

Don’t get the wrong idea. Christmases in the days of World War II were not always weighted down with gloom and doom. Americans still wanted to deck the halls, to “make rather merry”, as Dickens’ Bob Cratchit put it, to celebrate the holiday. And they would. What would the holidays be, for instance, without a cup of Christmas cheer? A magazine advertisement for Schenley whiskey asked, amidst colorful drawings of elegantly dressed men and women laughing and flirting around a punch bowl: what does every woman want to know about a man? “That Christmas and New Year’s symbolize more to him now than ever before…that even with his war duties, he still keeps the holiday tradition, sending flowers to her and gifts of Old Schenley to his friends!”

At Christmas 1942, newspapers reported crowded stores and ringing cash registers. Sales easily topped 1941’s totals. In Cleveland, Ohio, business at one ompany were so brisk that employees received a $3000 holiday bonus.

In many ways in World War II, Americans were prosperous. Unemployment by war’s end plummeted to less than 2%. The Great Depression was finally over. Most everyone had a job and a steady income. Thus, in Phoenix, Arizona in 1942, authorities called off the annual Christmas party for poor children. They couldn’t find any to invite. In Fairview Village, Ohio, town residents got a welcome Christmas gift—a garbage collection. They’d gone without trash pickup for 6 weeks, due to a lack of manpower. Most men were either in the service or had other, war-related jobs.

But there remained many sacrifices to be made, too. A young boy growing up in Los Altos, New Mexico during the war was told by his parents that due to rationing and the war, many toys wouldn’t be available. He should not expect there to be much under the tree. He often only received one Christmas present..

One couldn’t necessarily expect the usual Christmas sweets, either. Remember that sugar and butter were rationed. Often Christmas cooks had to make do with substitutes. Sometimes, mothers and grandmothers trying to make their usual Christmas cookies had to use “oleo” as a substitute for butter (“oleo” is short for “oleomargarine.”) But all agreed, then and later, that the cookies weren’t nearly as good.

It could be hard to find your usual Christmas turkey, or ham. For one thing, buying them used up a lot of meat ration stamps. What would you do for meat once the holidays were over, if you had no ration coupons left? Families would try anything to get by. For example, one thing you could do during the war was to save bacon grease. You could turn the grease in to a government office, and get extra meat ration stamps in return. Why? Because war munitions factories used bacon grease to make bombs and other forms of ammunition. Many a family secured a turkey at Christmas time by having someone haul containers of bacon grease down snow-covered sidewalks, to get the coupons needed.

Often, all of the families and friends in a neighborhood were short on some kind of food they needed for the holidays. Nobody ever had enough ration stamps. So, during the war, families would gather around kitchen tables, with their evergreen centerpieces and mistletoe hanging nearby, place their ration stamps in front of them, and trade with each other for things they needed. Maybe you had plenty of coffee ration coupons, but no sugar stamps; and another family somehow had the opposite situation. Thus would come the trading; and thus was made many a holiday, with families gathering, and sharing, and helping each other through the tough times.

A woman growing up in Detroit during World War II remembered that, one year, her family simply couldn’t afford to get a Christmas tree. So they instead made a “Christmas table.” “We festooned the top and legs of a card table with white pine and hemlock branches we’d collected,” she recalled, “and arranged our presents under the table. Christmas morning, as we opened our presents, we were proud of our sacrifice.”

With gasoline rationing, it could be very difficult to travel and see family at the holidays. One young married couple, from Kansas City, Missouri, at Christmas 1943 wanted to go see the wife’s mother and father in Wichita, Kansas. They literally had to save 3-gallon gas ration stamps for nearly 6 months in order to be able to get the gas they’d need for the trip. But they got there. Yet then, they could only get home again because the wife’s father was a farmer and could give them spare gas (farmers were entitled to extra gas ration coupons). Otherwise they would have been stranded.

Montgomery, Alabama had a long-time Christmas tradition--the city would set off fireworks on Christmas Eve or Christmas night. But during the war, all firecrackers were silenced. City fathers agreed, according to the local paper, that it was not right to celebrate in that way “with Uncle Sam and his allies at grips with the Axis to preserve freedom.”

But, as always, somewhere, somehow, the Christmas spirit always shone through. Take what happened in rural Oklahoma at Christmas 1943. There, a young man originally from Virginia served his country at the Naval Air Station in Clinton, Oklahoma. He was depressed. Here it was the holiday season, and he was stuck in a rural, desolate area, far from home. But a buddy of his, who fortunately was originally from Oklahoma, took him along as he went home for Christmas, and so our lonely Virginian found himself playing the piano in the parlor of his friend’s home that Christmas Eve.

But then suddenly came news from the local Catholic church. The nun who usually played the organ at church, and who was scheduled to play at that evening’s Midnight Mass, was very sick. She wouldn’t be able to play. They needed a substitute. Well—all eyes quickly turned to our friend. He could play the piano; surely he could play the organ too?

And so at midnight that night, on Christmas Eve in another small town in Oklahoma, he found himself playing an unfamiliar organ at a convent church. But it went well. He accompanied the children’s choir smoothly and without incident, and later even did an impromptu riff off of “The Hallelujah Chorus.” The entire congregation thanked him effusively; and the nuns were so pleased that they gave him a special Christmas gift---a magnum of champagne from the convent’s cellar. It turned into a special memory for him.

But then, why wouldn’t it? Why wouldn’t he come up with the performance of his life? It was Christmas…

The history of Christmas--World War II (part 5)

As World War II continued, it demanded even more sacrifices from the American people—even at Christmas time.

As Christmas 1943 approached, bad news continued to arrive. The casualty toll for U.S. troops on Tarawa rose to over 3700 killed or seriously wounded. People on America’s east coast were briefly panicked by the military’s warning of possible German U-boat attacks on the coastline. 17 Allied ships, meanwhile, sank off the coast of Italy as a result of a surprise German air attack.

The government instituted rationing for many food items, in order to avoid hoarding, shortages, and inflation. It led to problems. The city of Detroit, Michigan faced a meat shortage at Christmas. Its allotment of meat had been set, in a fair manner (or so the government believed), according to its population level of January 1941. But in the months since then, Detroit’s population had skyrocketed, inflated by the arrival of over 300,000 new workers, due to the immense number of war-related factory jobs available there. So now there were too many people, and not nearly enough turkey and ham for their Christmas meals. Many had to do without their usual holiday fare.

Many localities during World War II banned outdoor Christmas lights, thanks to wartime blackout requirements (outdoor lights shining brightly at night, authorities feared, could draw enemy bombers). “Christmas,” said one newspaper, “has moved indoors.”

In other towns, Christmas trees were scarce; lumber was needed for the war effort.

Gasoline was of course strictly rationed. But problems still came up. In the New York City area, there was a temporary gasoline shortage at Christmas 1942. For three days, the federal Office of Price Administration banned all gas sales in the area, save to those who were doing the most essential war work. Holiday travel became even more difficult.

By then, coffee rationing was in full effect. Most were limited to around one cup of coffee a day. It went into full effect just in time for Christmas.

Wives, separated from their husbands by the war, felt their loss especially at holiday time. “Last Christmas I worried if my husband would come home from the office sober enough to trim the tree,” a Navy wife told a reporter. “This year I wonder if he’ll come home from the Solomons—anytime.”

It could be difficult to find all the Christmas decorations and trinkets you needed, too. “We have Christmas trees for all the wards,” wrote a nurse working in a military hospital stateside to her boyfriend overseas in December 1942. “I don’t know where they will get decorations for them tho.”

But again, as always, the Christmas spirit shone through, and people found their special holiday moments, and took them, wherever they could find them. Sometimes, soldiers could do things for their loved ones back home. One woman, who endured the war as a young teenager living in Long Beach, California, remembered the act of kindness of a close friend of the family who was in the military overseas. “One Christmas, he sent us a huge box of Milky Ways,” she recalled.. “So much chocolate when there was no chocolate at all. I sat and cried. It took up the better part of the refrigerator, just like a turkey. We didn’t even want to eat it. Because we knew when it was gone, there wasn’t gonna be any more…It was a big treat just to open the refrigerator and see this chocolate.”

In cities, some people had no car during the war (Detroit suspended automobile manufacturing in early 1942); or, if they had one, they had no gas to put in it. How then could you get your Christmas tree home? A number of plucky families in Gary, Indiana solved the problem. They toted their trees home on city streetcars.

In Glenwood, Illinois, in December 1943, school children in all of the local schools filled no less than 206 stockings full of gifts---candy, fruit, gum, comics, popcorn balls and other goodies. The stockings were taken to the closest military bases around—to Fort Sheridan, or to the Great Lakes Naval Training Station. There they would be distributed on Christmas Day to any soldier or sailor who had not yet received a gift from home.

Why? It was Christmas.

The history of Christmas--World War II (part 4)

Everyone was missing somebody. And so there were Christmas gifts to help you cope. Best-selling books at Macy’s in 1943, perfect for the wives with husbands away from home at war, included titles such as YOUR HUSBAND’S GONE TO WAR and THE NAVY WIFE.

You couldn’t necessarily just pick up the phone and call someone to ease your loneliness. Bell Telephone repeatedly placed ads in newspapers and magazines at holiday time, reminding people that there was a war on. “War needs the wires this Christmas,” said one. “War can’t wait--not even for Christmas. So please don’t make long distance calls to war-busy centers this Christmas unless they’re vital.”

There were many sacrifices to make, no matter how small. During the war, sugar was rationed. So in early December 1942, the War Production Board ruled that there was to be no production of chocolate St. Nicholas figures that year.

Yes, at times, things could be grim. And yet, and yet...the Christmas spirit, the spirit of giving and sharing, would still shine through. Montgomery, Alabama, for example, at Christmas 1943 found itself with not one but two major military bases nearby, Gunter Air Force Base and Maxwell Air Force Base. Its downtown stores were open long hours during the Christmas season, their clerks and sales people worked to the bone. Yet on December 17th and 18th, 1943, cadets from both bases were given the run of the downtown to do all their Christmas shopping. Stores stayed open an extra hour or two to accommodate them. Then, on Christmas Day, the Montgomery Red Cross and Jaycees teamed up to open a special canteen, from which free bags of gum, fruit, games, and comic books were handed out to each serviceman who came by. Why go to all this trouble?, asked one reporter.

“It’s Christmas!,” came the reply.

The history of Christmas--World War II (part 3)

Sometimes, when the Christmas season arrived during World War II, good news didn't always come with it. The war sometimes brought painful news, news of the deaths of brave Americans in battle, which meant sons and loved ones were gone forever. It brought the strains and stresses of combat. At home, the war brought new and divisive issues to the forefront, which often led to social political strain, and the pain of sacrifice.

Read the rest...

Thus, as the Christmas season of 1943 approached, Americans learned troubling news. By December 1st, news outlets were reporting that nearly 3,000 Americans had died in the capturing of the island of Tarawa from the Japanese. In North Africa, the popular American military hero, General George Patton, was in trouble, facing heavy media criticism. While visiting wounded soldiers in a hospital, he slapped an American serviceman suffering from shell shock. Some wanted him removed from the service. In Washington D.C., a spokesman for war veterans threatened violent demonstrations after the war if returning servicemen did not receive their fair share of government benefits. In a rancorous, angry debate in the United States Denate, senators Alben Barkley of Kentucky and Willaim Langer of North Dakota exchanged insults, each implying that the other was an elitist, lying fool.

But in the meantime, the holidays went on. If you were a shopper in 1943, seeking that perfect gift for a loved one, here were some of your choices: you could buy a Motorola Cabinet Radio for $120. A typical record player retailed for $69. A small 22-inch bicycle came relatively cheaply, for $3.98. A child’s wagon went for $5.98. Stuffed animals could be had for prices ranging from $3.25 to $8.98.

The theme of the necessity of Americans making sacrifices for the war was never far away. Typical American family photos taken at Christmastime during the war years almost always show family members arranged around large pictures, on the mantle or on a table, of a brother or a dad, in uniform, who could not be home for Christmas. He was away, often overseas, serving in the military, far from home.

Their families yearned to be closer to them, somehow, some way. Of course there was one obvious way to achieve this--send a package! You could send your loved one fighting for Uncle Sam non-perishable food items, clothes, and other Christmas gifts. And during the war, millions of Americans did it. They sent so many packages overseas and to military bases that post offices in some locations warned people to send their packages by October 15th. Otherwise it might not arrive on time. “It would be a Christmas unlike any the U.S. people had ever seen, and one they would long remember,” reported TIME magazine in 1942. “There was hardly a person who had not sent a package, or at least a letter, to a man in uniform; hardly a thoughtful man or woman who would not wonder what it might be like to spend Christmas in a tank on the road to Bizerte or perched in a palm tree in New Guinea.”

In Portland, Oregon, there were 20 railroad cars backed up at the local train stations, filled with parcel post Christmas boxes sent to soldiers at a nearby base.

The local postmaster had to somehow scare up more more manpower in order to deliver them all. But he did.

The history of Christmas--World War II (part 2)

The U.S. government used holiday poetry to urge consumers to buy U.S. Savings Bonds at Christmas: “Someday Yuletide bells will ring merrily again/and once more there will be laughter, joy, and mirth,” said one government public service ad. “Someday Christmas carolers will sing again/those songs we love that tell of ‘peace on earth’/ someday hearts will beat as they return again/ the husband father son…the neighbor’s boy/someday Christmas lights will brightly burn again/ illuminating those filled with joy.” It concluded: “Americans will observe this wartime ‘Holiday Season’ with but a single thought and purpose: the determination to focus all our energies and efforts on final victory.”

An ad for Chesterfield cigarettes showed Santa Claus, with a big bag full of smokes to distribute to American soldiers at the front, with a typical GI helmet clamped on his head.

And speaking of Santa, the coming of the war provoked questions about him, too.

For example, courtesy of the federal government, there now was a bureaucratic monstrosity called the War Labor Board, which, despite its flaws, nevertheless had an important job: controlling wages and employment, in order to prevent runaway inflation and strikes from crippling wartime production. It issued a wage-freeze order in the fall of 1942, setting most workers’ wages for the duration of the war at their January 1941 levels, plus fifteen percent. Apparently with Christmas coming, someone had to ask: what about the wages of those playing Santa Claus? Thus came the perhaps-only-half-serious WLB order of December 4, 1942: “Bona fide Santa Clauses shall be construed to be only such persons as wear a red robe, white whiskers, and other well-recognized accoutrements befitting their station in life, and provided that they have a kindly and jovial disposition and use their high office of juvenile trust to spread the Christmas spirit.” And—they were exempt from the wage-freeze order!

And who would play Santa during the war? Soon many cities faced a manpower shortage due to military service. By January 1945 there were no fewer than 16 million men (and some women) in uniform. To fill the vacuum, women increasingly entered the workplace. Munitions factories all had their "Rosie the Riveters" working the heavy machinery, a huge change from the past. By 1945, women made up 35% of all those in the workplace. Thus, in Chicago at one point during the war,, there were stories that stores would employ female Santas. But in response, in Poughkeepsie, New York, city officials made clear this would not be the case. there. "Santa will be Santa and there will be no bearded lady this Yuletide, as usual," harrumphed the local paper. "Of course, there are arguments in favor of a lady Santa during wartime. Women have been doing just about everything else that a man had done and probably there is little argument against why they couldn't help out St. Nick. But it would be quite a blow to the kids to climb aboard her lap and hear a staccato 'What would you like me to bring you, sonny?' in place of the customary voice of pleasant gruffness...there has to be a line drawn somewhere. And Santa Claus seems to be it."

But at least Santa, making his list and checking it twice, came to America—even during tough times.

"Tis the season: celebrating Christmas, and remembering the past heroes of World War II

You know, I like Christmas time. I enjoy the decorations, the pretty, colorful lights, the evergreen, the holly, the mistletoe. It makes me feel good. I even like the cartoons: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, A Charlie Brown Christmas, and the other corny holiday TV specials. The presents, the excitement, the talk of peace on earth and good will towards men…how can it not give you a warm feeling?

Of course, it’s not this way for everybody. Sometimes tragedies mar the holiday season.

Christmas can lead some people, unable to feel the good cheer, down the road to depression. Yet, somehow, the Christmas spirit, to me anyway, always seems to shine through. And it does so even in difficult times such as these, late in 2008, as our soldiers continue to face danger in Iraq, the threat of terrorism hangs heavy over the world, and we face serious economic difficulties.

My enjoyment of Christmas naturally led me, as an historian, to ponder its history. How did we celebrate the holidays in previous decades? I especially became curious about the celebration of Christmas in wartime—both because today we face tough times, though different ones from the past, and because I frequently teach about wars—the Civil War, World Wars I and II. So I decided to investigate what was it like in America to celebrate Christmas, the holiday so associated with peace on earth, during perhaps the most total war this country has ever seen—World War II.

I did some research. And one aspect of Christmas in wartime that quickly becomes clear is this: everything was connected to the war, was part of it, was seen through its prism.

Take holiday advertising during the war. If you examine ads in America’s favorite magazines back then, Christmas and World War II could not be separated. Companies urged consumers to buy expensive Parker ball-point pen sets to give to soldiers at the front, a present “for your favorite patriot.” Or, buy it for yourself—“it brings a new ease to writing those morale-building letters between home and the front.” An ad for Elgin watches similarly featured an illustration of U.S. marines, sweating in the sun on a Pacific island front, taking a break from fighting the Japanese and happily opening a gift box containing an expensive watch from home.

Railroad trains were the most common form of long-distance transportation for Americans during the war. Countless memoirs detail the jammed train stations, and the difficulty of finding tickets or available seats. Many rode the Southern Railway System, and so during the war, at Christmas, the company grimly reminded Americans what it was about—as well as why its trains were so crowded. “The church, to the enemies of America, is a monstrosity to be destroyed,” ran one solemn advertisement. “They would padlock its doors and send our children goose-stepping in search of new gods. They would substitute pagan rites for the simple, sustaining beauty of our commemoration of the birth of Christ. So today, America is at war—a war we’re going to win…That is the solemn pledge of Americans on the war front…To its fulfillment we have allocated all of our transportation services and facilities, gratefully putting war transportation needs ahead of every other transportation need.”

Salesmen writing their pitches knew how hard wartime was on people; how Americans missed their loved ones serving in the military overseas, how they worried about them, how they yearned for them to be home, and how this made holiday feelings more intense. Christmas this year means “more than ever”, said a promotion for Whitman’s Chocolates in 1943. It was a time when “fondly-remembered things mean more,” and hence what could be better than a gift of candy to a serviceman? But Whitman also hastened to add that, if those at home couldn’t necessarily find their favorite chocolates in stores, it was because so many were going to our boys at the front. Indeed, companies touted just how much they were doing for former employees now in the military. Kroger trumpeted how their employees in the service each got a free fruitcake at Christmas.

We'll continue this trip down memory lane, remembering the joy of Christmas from seasons past, even when times were tough, in the coming days.