We got the word to fall out in front of the barracks at 6:00 A.M. that morning. It was December 30, 1943. The cocky and arrogant ensign in charge shouted, “If there is anyone here who thinks he should not go, speak up.” “Sir,” I said “my wife is going to give birth in a few days and I would like to be there.” “All right,“ he said. “Just fall out with the rest of the men tomorrow morning, and I will send you back to your outfit”. The next morning when he didn’t say anything I said to him, “Sir, yesterday when I told you my wife was about to have a baby, you said I would be able to stay.” “Well you’re going. So get back in rank. We’ll see that your sea bags catch up to you”.
So, the next morning I fell in with the other 450 men of the U.S. Navy 117th construction battalion who were selected to go overseas as replacements to fill out the ranks of two battalions that were undermanned.
I was working at the Fisher Body factory located on Coit Road near St. Clair Avenue and East 140th Street. I was working as a draftsman in the aircraft department. Due to the war no automobiles were being manufactured. Every factory in the country was devoted strictly to war material. The Fisher Body plant was a large four story brick factory. The ground floor was devoted to building diesel engines to power submarines. I worked there for a few weeks and then moved to the fourth floor which housed the engineering department for the aircraft division. The other two floors were devoted to the manufacture of the engine nacelles for the B 29 bomber. My job was to draw up deviations to the original plans which were drawn by the Boeing Aircraft Company. During manufacture it often became necessary to deviate from the original plans, because it was impossible to manufacture the nacelle as drawn. There were about five of us just drawing deviations. On an 8 by 11 inch piece of vellum we drew up the part to be changed as it was originally drawn and then drew how it would be after the change. After the deviation was drawn it was sent to a stress analyst for his approval.
I had enlisted in the Seabees because I was reclassified as 1-A, and knew I would be called up very soon. I didn’t like the thought of being in the infantry, and also the navy said that Seabees were sent overseas very quickly. Also, I would go in with a fireman’s rating which meant my pay would be $78.00 per month instead of $55.00. This magnificent pay would make my wife’s life a little easier.
Boot camp was at Camp Peary near Williamsburg, Virginia. After boot camp I got a short leave and was home for about a week. Then off to Gulfport Mississippi for basic training. That’s where I was when they notified me that I was chosen for the casual draft.
We marched into the town of Gulfport, Mississippi and onto a train at the railroad depot. After a short ride of about 50 miles the train pulled onto a pier in New Orleans. We left the train and boarded a small freighter that was tied up to the pier. I don’t remember the name of the ship, but I do remember that it was owned by the Moore-McCormick Lines and was used to haul bananas from South America. The holds were equipped with canvas bunks arranged in tiers five high with just enough space to crawl into. Much like the prison ships one would see at the movies.
Besides the Seabees there was also a company of about 200 black Marine anti-aircraft gunners and several hundred very young sailors just out of boot camp at Great Lakes Naval Station near Chicago, mostly teen agers. The navy took recruits at 17 years of age, unless they lied and were only 16.
New Orleans is actually 100 miles from the Gulf of Mexico. We sailed down the Mississippi River that evening (it was New Year’s eve) into the gulf of Mexico. The water was fairly rough when we got into the open sea. Thankfully I was never one to get sea sick. Not so for the young sailors. Many of them, if not all, were laying in their bunks and vomiting and the stink was unbearable. For the next few days I slept on a hatch cover on deck. Nice hard steel with a thin canvas cover. Needless to say the canvas did not help much.
This was New Year’s Day and the navy always served turkey dinner on holidays. It would have been great under normal circumstances, but on this small ship there was not enough room for a kitchen or mess hall. No chairs, only high tables so we could stand up and eat. No ovens to cook in, just 4 large steam kettles. Steamed turkey was not very appetizing. As the days went by the food only got worse, not better. That night and for many nights after that I slept on deck on a hatch cover. Thankfully the weather was warm,, and I did not need a blanket.
Fresh water was scarce. We were allowed only one canteen of fresh water a day, and were expected to wash in the salt water showers. Soap does not lather in salt water, and after you are through washing your entire body feels scummy. I soon learned to brush my teeth and wash in less than one canteen of fresh water using my helmet for a basin.
As we approached the Panama Canal the ship slowed even more than its normally slow speed so that we could go through the canal at about 2:00 AM. This was a safety measure to avoid being bombed by the enemy. I stayed up all night to watch. I thought I would never get another chance to see the Panama Canal. When we were in the Gulf of Mexico, there were three troop ships and six destroyer escorts (new ships built just for escort duty, and about two thirds the size of a destroyer). After we exited the canal ours was the only troop ship and there was one DDE, destroyer escort.
We sailed westward past Easter Island and on to the harbor of Bora Bora in the Society Islands for refueling. It was like being in a picture postcard. There was one mountain peak on this small island that looked like an extinct volcano. The peak was in the clouds. After the ship dropped anchor the natives (who were Polynesians) came out in outrigger canoes to sell shell beads and fruit. Everything was priced at one dollar. No coins, only paper money. I lowered a dollar bill on a small line I had and bought a hand of bananas. About 15 of them. Some of the guys offered me a dollar for one banana, so I sold most of them and kept four or five for myself. That was the best meal I had for three months.
Several days later three navy planes flew over to escort us to our harbor. While we watched one of the planes crashed in the ocean. Our escort DDE steamed over to rescue the pilot.
Next day we sailed into the harbor of Noumea, New Caledonia a French Island.
There were several small pleasure boats and it seemed very civilized. However, we were soon docked, and went aboard waiting trucks to be driven up into the mountains. We got off at an old Seabee camp consisting of 16 by 16 foot tents. It hadn’t been used for a long time and the tents were full of cobwebs and dust. The scuttlebut (that’s navy talk for rumors) had it that our ship was called back for other duty. There was a mess hall nearby where we could eat. After two or three days we again were trucked down the mountain to the port where 3 LSTs were waiting. Our group of 450 men were divided up, 150 to each ship. The LSTs were very small compared to regular ocean going vessels. The next morning, some time before noon. we pulled up to a white sand beach. The ships headed into the beach, opened the large doors in the bow and dropped their ramps so we could walk off. The orders were to stay on the beach and don’t wander off. We would be picked up by another ship soon. The island was Guadalcanal.
After several hours we were getting hungry. It was long past noon. I went along with some of the guys who decided to go on a scouting mission. We came upon a large food dump guarded by some New Zealand soldiers. We asked one of the guards if we could have some food since we had’t eaten. He said that he had orders to shoot anyone caught stealing food. But, he said, I have to walk to the end of the food dump, and that will take about ten minutes before I turn around so I better not see anyone when I do.The moment he started off we rushed in for food. I came up with a #10 can (about a gallon) of fruit cocktail, which I shared with the guys on the beach.
Some time later that afternoon, probably around 4:00 pm a ship pulled up close to the beach and lowered barges to take us on board. We then headed out to cross the Coral Sea. Some time after dark the call came from the bridge for everyone to their action station. The ship was dead in the water. Our escort, the DDE was circling our ship at full speed trying to spot a submarine before they torpedoed us. Normally this command to Action Stations was only at dawn and at dusk. That was the most likely time for submarines to attack. Everyone was to look out for a possible submarine attack. My station was on the port side just below the bridge. I heard a man (I assume it was the ship’s captain) say, “If we get out of this in one piece it will be a miracle”. Evidently miracles still happen. About 3 hours later we got under way again. The next morning some of the guys were saying that a torpedo missed our stern by a few yards.
We soon sailed into Milne Bay on the eastern tip of New Guinea and tied up at a dock. We were to stay there for several days. Probably waiting for orders. Meanwhile we were organized into work parties and went ashore to dig in the swamp. On about the second day a friend told me he met a sailor from Cleveland, and maybe I could get some news from home. We went to his tent, and sure enough he had a pile of old newspapers, The Cleveland Press. I looked through them and found a picture of my wife and new born son. The paper published these pictures every day. That was the first time I heard of Michael’s birth.
One morning I was on deck watching the activity in the harbor when a fleet of ships sailed in and anchored across the bay. There were four cruisers and some destroyers. There was a barge unloading food and supplies tied up to our ship. I called down to one of the sailors and asked if he knew the names of the cruisers. He replied that he didn’t know the names of the Aussies, but the American ships were the Honolulu and the Phoenix. What a surprise. I knew my wife’s brother Sam Deitch was a radioman on the Phoenix. They had been in the European theater. Evidently they got shipped to the Asian-Pacific theater of operations. I immediately went to see the chaplain. I told him a big sob story and got permission to leave the ship. I went to a small dock where small boats and barges came in and hitched a ride on a barge going across the bay. I asked the sailor running it how to get aboard the Phoenix. He told me to see the dockmaster and he would arrange it. When I asked the dockmaster he said, “When you hear me yell Phoenix you jump in their boat sit down and don’t say a word to anybody.”. Shortly a small boat pulled into the dock. There were 2 officers and a sailor who ran the boat. The officers gave me a dirty look, but I just sat there and kept mum. They then went down the coast about a mile and pulled up a couple of lobster traps. The traps were empty and they were disgusted. Then they went back to the ship. I went aboard and asked the Officer Of The Deck where to find radioman Deitch. He told me how to get to the radio shack. There I met my brother=in=law Sam. What a surprise. He took me to the ship’s store where I bought a box of cigars to pass out and some candy bars for myself. Sam talked me into staying for the movie That would be shown on deck as soon as it got dark. The movie was over at about 9:00, we said goodbye and I went to the gang plank. I told the officer of the deck that I had to get ashore. I thought he would have a heart attack. “What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled. “I went to see the movie,” I said. When he calmed down a bit he said he would have a ride for me soon. An army captain and a sergeant soon showed up and the three of us went down the gangplank to a small wooden boat that they had taken from the Japanese. We got in the boat and shoved off. It was pitch black, only a few red lights were visible. All miles away. The sergeant said “I think that light is the dock.” “OK,” said the captain, “but keep the flashlight shining on the flag so no one blows us out of the water.” Soon we were next to a huge ship. “That’s an aircraft carrier,” said thr sarge “we’re heading out to sea/\.” That’s how I found out that aircraft carriers never sailed into harbors, but stayed out where they could get under way fast in case of an attack. My companions soon figured out which red light was our dock, and we proceeded back to shore with the captain yelling, “Keep the flashlight on the American flag!” every few minutes. I wondered why he didn’t hold the flashlight. The sergeant had enough to do handling the boat.
We were soon moved into barracks on shore and were kept busy digging in the mud. Sam came to visit me a couple of times while they were in port. The next time I saw him he told me that they were shelling the Phillipines. Their ship was hit by a kamikaze plane right smack in the radio shack. Luckily he was off duty and in his bunk at the time.
A few days later we were ordered back on a ship and were off again. We went to the Admiralty Islands which were about 450 miles north of Finchhaven, New Guinea.
We sailed into the harbor where 2 destroyers were still shelling the little island, Los Negros. This was a large coral reef. The larger mountainous island was called Manus.
The next day we went ashore. I was assigned to the 46th CB, The camp was in a copra plantation along the beach. The coconut trees were planted in even rows about 25 feet apart. The 16 by 16 tents were set in the center of 4 palm trees. They had plywood floors with one tent pole in the middle holding up the center of the tent. The flaps were tied to the 4 palm trees. We were 2 degrees south of the equator so there was never a need to put down the sides of the tents. When it rained the rain fell straight down. We always slept under mosquito netting and took an Atabrine pill to avoid malaria. The pill turned our skin color to a sickly yellow.
When I took a walk to survey my new surroundings I was amazed to see so many dead Japanese bodies. Also it was surprising how the enemy soldiers lived. No camp, no tents. They piled up coral rocks to make a cave-like shelter. That was all.
I was ordered to report to work the next morning at 5:30. There were about 15 or 20 men. We took a barge a short distance around the bay where a wooden dock was under construction. My job was to drive spikes into the 4” by 10” planks used for the decking.
For six hours each day I drove large square spikes (almost as large as those used on railroads) with a sledge hammer. For my entire stay on Los Negros we worked from 6 AM to noon. The following day we worked from noon to 6 PM seven days a week. No coffee breaks, no time to eat until we got back to camp. After a while I was assigned to a carpentry crew. The Chief Petty Officer who was in charge was an experienced and very knowledgeable carpenter. We built many Quonset Huts, an officers club, a building to dry and fold parachutes, a building to chrome and nickel plate aircraft parts, and even a building for the Red Cross to make and serve donuts and coffee. When we finished the Red Cross building they were already making donuts. We asked if we might have one and were told in no uncertain terms that they were for officers only.
As I was lying in my cot one afternoon a soldier walked into our tent. I didn’t recognize him until he spoke. It was my brother Ed (Ellick). He knew where I was from my letters home. Since I had not gotten any mail since we left the states I didn’t even know he was in the army. He was in the Quartermaster Corps. They had gotten an order for a part for an airplane from the bomber group on Los Negros. He told his captain that he had to “safe hand” it to Los Negros. So he hitched a ride on a plane to deliver it so that he could try to visit me. We spent a very pleasant few hours together. Then we went to the airport where he caught another ride back to Finchaven.
One day while working on the parachute building at the airport I was on a scaffold with another man, about forty feet high when the air raid siren sounded. We got down in a flash because we felt they would bomb any building they could see. I ran about 200 feet from the building and lay down against a mound of dirt. No foxholes, no shelter. I was certainly glad when the all clear sounded.
I think it was when I went to Jewish services on a Friday evening that I met a soldier from Cleveland. His name is Manny Efron, and he was in the First Cavalry. They were the ones who took the island from the Japanese. He said he was sick and tired of eating K rations. I told him to come to see me at lunch time and he could eat with me. Our food wasn’t great, but anything was better than K rations. After that he came to see me very often. After the war whenever I saw him at some affair he still thanked me for feeding him.
One morning when walking to the mess tent I saw that the entire harbor was full of ships. This was the staging area for the invasion of the Phillipines
Eventually word got around that the battalion was going home for a 30 day leave. The 46th CBs had been overseas for 2 years and anyone in the battalion who had been overseas for at least 1 year would be allowed to go on leave with them. I qualified since I had been overseas for 13 months.
The ship that we boarded to go back to the states was nothing like the one we were on going overseas. It was a regular troop transport ship. The food was good, for Navy food, and the ship was roomy and clean and about twice as fast. We stopped in Hawaii for refueling and docked in back of Hickam Field, the military airport. No one was allowed off the ship, and we headed for California the next morning. After several days we landed in San Francisco. The next day we boarded a troop train. No sleeping cars. Three men to a double seat so we could stretch our feet out while we slept in the seats for three nights.
We pulled into the station under the Terminal Tower building on Public Square.
Lillian was there to meet me with Michael who was about 14 months old. The station was so full of people it was difficult to push our way through the crowd. We drove to the apartment she lived in on Superior Avenue and East 123rd Street. It was on the second floor above a row of stores. I remember the basement was occupied by the American Greetings Company.
I had thirty days leave and we spent the time visiting friends and having a good time. It all ended too soon, and I was back on a troop train headed back to California. I then was stationed in Camp Parks which was about 25 miles east of Oakland. There I was put to work in the laundry marking clothes.
Lillian kept insisting she wanted to come to California while I was still in the country. After a while I gave in and said all right, but if you do, you must sell all the furniture, and we will stay here after the war. Being the obedient wife, she informed me when she arrived, that she had put the furniture in storage, and we were going back to Cleveland because her mother was there.
We managed to rent a small apartment in the slum area of Oakland because that was closer to Camp Parks where I was stationed. We bought an old Ford sedan and Lillian got a job with POATC (Pacific Overseas Air Transport Command). She was the secretary for an army captain who ran the place. She put Michael in a day care center. The weather in San Fran is very weird. In the morning she dressed Michael in a snow suit because it was so cold. When she went to pick him up in the evening, he was wearing only a diaper and playing outside. He was just two years old. I got liberty every fourth day, When I could, I would go to the Officer of The Deck with a sob story and managed to get home on a special liberty quite often.
Several months later I had to take another Physical Exam before going overseas again. I had hemorrhoids and was sent to the hospital at Camp Shoemaker which was next to Camp Parks, The surgery was pretty miserable, but I survived. I was recuperating in the hospital until I was well enough for active duty when I decided to visit my brother Max who lived in Long Beach, about 450 miles south. I got a three day liberty and permission to travel over 50 miles from camp. Lillian picked me up at camp, and we drove down to Long Beach for a short visit. Coming back we had tire trouble. New tires were impossible to get. Even getting a used tire took us a few hours. When I got back to the hospital they put me under arrest, but not in the brig. I was a prisoner at large for being AOL (absent over leave) until I went to captain’s mast. When I saw the captain he was astounded. “What were you thinking?, traveling that far on a 3 day pass” he said. I showed him the permission slip that showed my destination. He read it and said, “As long as you got permission, I can’t charge you with anything, you can go.” I bet the officer who signed that slip sure caught hell.
One day Lillian’s brother Lou showed up. He was an Ensign on an the LST 190. The same LST on which I was a passenger overseas. They had docked in San Fran before going on to the Pacific to participate in the invasion of Japan. He came back the next day and brought some food from the ship. Every thing was rationed for civilians, and you could not buy anything without ration stamps. That evening the three of us went to San Fran for dinner.
I think it was after dinner we were going to go up Nob Hill to the Fairmount Hotel for a drink when the news of the Japanese surrender broke. The whole town went wild. Downtown was loaded with people. Practically all military, and mostly sailors. I heard one sailor say to his friends “Let’s get an officer and beat the s--t out of him.” When I heard that I said, “Let’s go home, this is a madhouse.” I felt that we could have trouble with some young teen-age, drunken sailor since Lou was an officer. So we left and went home.
Lou’s boat was scheduled to participate in the invasion of the Japanese mainland. The war ended just in time for him.
Soon the military announced a point system. Since it was impossible to
discharge everyone at once. Those with the most points were discharged first. I had enough points to keep from being sent overseas again, but had to wait for my turn to be let go. When I finally got my discharge I received a brass eagle pin, denoting an honorable discharge, affectionately called a “ruptured duck”.
Lillian wanted to fly back to Cleveland. The waiting time was so long we decided to stay with Max in Long Beach until we could fly home. We drove there and sold the car and left from Burbank airport on Thanksgiving day. It took 24 hours for the 2 motored DC-3 to make the trip. We made several stops. The last one was in Akron, Only thirty miles from home.
I was born in Akron, Ohio in a small two story house on Euclid Court on August 1, 1916. My father, Hyman, told the doctor that my name would be Barnett Klein. The doctor wrote out the birth certificate as Barney Klein. My Jewish name was Beryl.
Euclid Court was a short dirt road about about 500 feet long, and ended at an apple orchard. It was off Euclid Avenue, a fairly large street. Just across the street on Euclid Avenue was Perkins Park. In the park was a cage which housed three bears. When I was small I thought it was a huge cage. Many years later when I went back there to show it to Lillian I was astounded at how much it had shrunk. Three bears still occupied it.
My father worked as a fitter for Mitchel Tailors in Cleveland and came home only on week-ends. When I was eight years old we moved to Cleveland so he would not have the long commute. We moved to the second floor of a two family house on Kinsman Road near East 123rd Street. I was registered at Lafayette Elementary School. Soon after we moved they started digging a basement in the front yard for a store to be built there. Kinsman was a commercial street so it was legal. I remember they used a team of horses and a steel scoop to dig the hole. No steam shovels in those days.
My father decided to go into business for him self. He opened a tailor shop on Kinsman at East 79th Street. H.KLEIN THE TAILOR. He also took in clothes to be drycleaned and pressed. He had a pressing machine and the clothes were sent to a wholesale drycleaner for the cleaning. He advertised SUITS MADE TO ORDER 27.50 AND UP. I often took him his lunch via street car. Chicken soup was the mainstay and I carried it in a one peck wooden basket.
Eventually we moved again. This time to East 81st street off Kinsman to be close to the store and papa could walk to work. We lived in a small single home which was in the back of the landlord’s house. It was situated about where a detached garage would be located. We were the only Jews on the street, and there was only one black family. They had one son, Arthur who played with us. Most of the people were blue collar workers of Hungarian descent. My brother Elick (Edward) and I played with the other kids, mostly games in the street. There was very little auto traffic because very few working men could afford a car. I went to Kinsman elementary school.
After a couple of years we moved again. Our new address was 3417 East 117th Street about midway between Kinsman Road and Union Avenue. It was a two family house and we lived downstairs. Mr and Mrs Aidlin lived upstairs He was our landlord. He was a short man and was in the laundry business at that time. Mrs. Aidlin was shorter and as wide as she was tall. They had two grown children. Sam and Rae. My new school, Mt. Pleasant elementary school was on the corner of East 117 and Union Avenue.
When I was ready for the seventh grade I went to Patrick Henry This was an elementary school on East Boulevard about a mile or 2 from home. My class was in a wooden temporary building in the school yard while a new junior high school was under construction. I walked to and from school every day. No school buses and no automobiles.
There were five children in our family. When I was about fourteen years old Max, the oldest was working after school at Adelstein’s Pharmacy, at East 55th street and Woodland Avenue. Ethel, next in line, attended Longwood Commercial High Schoolm a public school for girls.who wished to work in an office. Just after she graduated the new John Hay High School was opened and Longwood became an elementary school. Then came my brother Edward (Ellick). He was working for Mr. Aidlin after school. Mr. Aidlin had sold his laundry and bought a grocery store. There were no supermarkets in those days. Mr. Aidlin‘s grocery occupied one half of a fairly large store. The other half was occupied by a butcher shop owned by Max Weisberg. I was two years younger than Ellick. My sister Ruth was four years younger than me.
After I finished the seventh grade I went to the new junior high school, Nathan Hale, for the eighth and ninth grades. I attended John Adams Senior High which was located near 116th street and Corlett road,for the next three years.
When I was about 15 years old my brother Edward went to work for Max Weisberg, and Mr. Aidlin asked my parents if I would take his place. So from then on I would catch a street car in front of the school as soon as classes were over. It was at least a half hour ride on two trolleys to work. The store was open until nine Monday through Friday. On Saturday from eight AM until eleven PM. On week days it took an extra half hour to put things away and clean up. On Saturday it took at least an hour. After that at least another half hour to get home.
My sister Ethel had graduated high school and went to work as a bookkeeper in the Sherrif Street market for Sam Schneider. I think he was Mrs. Aidlin‘s brother. Sam Aidlin worked there as did Izzy Shafron. Ethel and Izzy married and eventually Izzy decided to go into business on his own. He rented space in the Sheriff Street Market and competed with his former boss. After I graduated high school I went to work for Izzy at Ohio Produce, his new business.
I went to work with Izzy every morning about four am in his truck. He would buy me a danish pastry and a cup of coffee for breakfast. He would then go to the various wholesalers and buy his merchandise for the day. I would stay on the back of the truck and load the produce as it was brought to me by a laborer on a four wheel hand truck. When we got to Sheriff Street Market, I and two older Polish boys unloaded the truck, and for the rest of the day we delivered to the restaurants downtown on push carts.
That is where I learned to drive. There was a parking lot attached to this very large building Many people parked their cars there because it was a short walk to the downtown stores and offices. The cars were not locked and the keys were in the ignition. When there was a space in front or in back of a car I would get in and drive it just the few feet forward or backward. There were no automatic transmissions then, only stick shifts
I left Ohio Produce and got a job in a large market on Euclid Avenue and East 82nd Street, The two brothers who owned it were very difficult to work for. When a large supermarket opened on West 25th Street and Lorain Avenue I got a job there. This was one of the first supermarkets in the country. There were no large chain supermarkets then.
I was very friendly with Emil Spitzer and we used to play pool at a local pool room. That‘s where I met Chuck Pollack and Chuck Silberger. Silberger was Pollack“s uncle. He was Pollack‘s mother‘s brother and was only a year or two older than his nephew. One day they approached me about going to Camp Anisfield for a week‘s vacation. Mr. Anisfield was a philanthropist. He originally built the camp for Jewish working girls to have a place where they could afford to spend a week or two. It soon became co-ed and boys went there too. Of course the boys slept in separate cabins. That is where I met Lillian and Chuck Pollack met his future wife Ruth Greenberg.
Lillian and I were keeping steady company. She lived on East 112th Street in the lower suite of a two family house with her mother, her brother Sam and two half brothers Lou and Julius Trabitz. Sam worked at Neisner Brothers on West 25th Street almost next door to where I worked. Neisner’s was a variety chain store similar to Woolworth’s 5 and 10 cent stores and Kresge’s, but with far fewer stores. Lillian worked at the Electric Neon Clock Company which was owned by Manny Winger ,and she was his secretary. They made large electric clocks with a circle of neon tube around it. They sold these to store owners to put in the window as an advertising gimick.
Sam offered me a job at Neisner’s as a stock boy. I took it because I felt that it was a job with a future. Little did I know how miserable I would be working for that company.
Lillian and Sam were the only support of the family. When it became apparent that we would get married she kept back some of her pay to save. I had been giving my parents most of my pay to help support our family. I too kept more money for myself.
The economy was still very bad. Even though the great depression started in 1929 and it was now 1938 or 1939, jobs were scarce and the pay was very low. I was making $22.00 a week and Lillian was making $25.00. We were married in Lillian’s aunt]s apartment in Cleveland Heights, on Mayfield Road, ust north of Coventry. It was January 14, 1940. The only cash gifts we received were $25.00 from my brother Elick (Edward) and $50.00 from my brother Max. We managed to rent a one bedroom apartment above a store on Coventry Road. We could not afford a car. All our traveling was done on street cars.
I worked for Neisner’s as a stock boy. The stock room was in the basement of the store. I received merchandise, unpacked it and stored it in bins. I then carried merchandise upstairs and filled the counters as needed. When Sam was at lunch or busy with other things I worked as a floor man. Since each salesgirl had more than one counter to take care of, I would help customers by taking their purchases to a counter where someone was working and have them complete the sale. Once a month the district supervisor would come in to check the store. Sam warned me to be on my toes when he was around. Just walk around the floor and have nothing to do with the customers. I usually worked until long after the store closed. I would always go into the office to check the report after the supervisor left. The report was always bad.
Several months later I was informed that I would be transferred soon. When the store was being checked by the supervisor I was on the floor again. This time I figured that I couldn’t get a worse report so I worked as if the supervisor wasn’t there and helped customers as always. When I checked the report that evening it was very complimentary. So much for listening to my brother-in-law.
A few weeks later I was transferred to Ashtabula, Ohio. A small town about fifty miles east of Cleveland. I took a train there and found a furnished apartment in an old two story house. The first floor was occupied by the owners, two old maid sisters. The second floor was our apartment, living room, bedroom, bath and kitchen. I returned to Cleveland for Lillian and we moved in.
I was the assistant manager of a small store in downtown Ashtabula. I think I got a raise to twenty-five dollars a week. We stuck it out for several months, but then decided that working for Neisner’s was not the way we wanted to spend our lives. We would move back to Cleveland and both of us would get jobs. Chuck Pollak drove down with a small truck he owned with his fiancee Ruth Greenberg and we moved back with all of our worldly possessions. We moved into an apartment near Superior Avenue and East 105th Street. I got a job at a new supermarket that Heinen’s opened on Taylor Road Near Cedar. I worked in the produce department. One day a customer asked us if we would like a factory job. His company, Fairmount Tool and Forge, was looking for help. I applied and was hired to work in the tool room as an apprentice die sinker at fifty cents an hour. If I had stayed there I could have eventually worked up to being a die sinker at a good salary. That would have been fine, if I was eighteen years old and just out of high school, but I was married and wanted to start a family. I couldn’t wait to work four years before I made a decent wage.
In my spare time I went job hunting. I got a job at Cleveland Worm & Gear Company. They had started a new department to make automatic oilers for machine tools such as large drill presses, lathes, etc. I sometimes cut bars of steel to about three inch by six inch block and about two inches thick on a power hack saw. The rest of the time I worked on a small bench type drill press. After working there for a few months, the United States entered the war and every factory in the country was devoted to making war material. I was making about sixty or seventy cents an hour so I went job hunting again. I landed a job at the White Motor Company on East 79th street and St. Clair Avenue. I worked on a very large radial drill press. Mostly I drilled large holes in a part for army half tracks. These were trucks with wheels in the front and a tank tread in the rear. I think the foreman liked my work since he also gave me jobs on milling machines and the huge six bar boring mill. White motor made a six cylinder mountain truck. My job was to bore all six cylinders of the motor block. I had to adjust the cutting tool for each of the cylinders with an allen wrench. The pay was good, about eighty dollars a week.
I think I learned about the course in tool and die design from a flyer posted on a bulletin board at the factory. So I signed up for the course to be held at Fenn College (later part of Cleveland Community College) night school. When I finished the course I went to the employment office and asked to be transferred, and was told there were no openings in that department. It was a disappointment. Why did they advertise the course?
Off I went job hunting again. After several tries I got a job at Fisher Body. I started as a draftsman in the diesel engine department on the first floor. They were machining huge cylinder blocks for submarine diesel engines. I think the government was paying them for time and material. The more it cost them the more they were paid. I had no work to do. When I asked the foreman for something to do, he would give me stupid little jobs that meant nothing. The tough part was to look busy. I went to the employment office and asked to be transferred to the aircraft department. The next day the foreman raised hell with me, but had to send me upstairs anyhow. At least I had something to do and was happy in my work.
After several months I was notified by the Selective Service Administration that I was reclassified !A, which meant I was to be drafted very soon. The army didn’t appeal to me so I decided to enlist in the navy Seabees. After a quick physical exam I was sent to Camp Peary, Virginia, not far from Williamsberg. Lillian was pregnant, so she went to live with my parents.
Boot camp was normally eight to twelve weeks. Due to wartime it was shortened to four. Then there was a seven day leave. I sat on my suitcase in the aisle of the train all night on that ride to Cleveland. Every seat was taken. It was wartime and no one complained. Every one was in the war.
I reported for advanced training at the Seabee camp in Gulfport, Missisippi. I was a member of the 117th Construction Battalion until they picked me for the casual draft to go overseas.
We rented a two bedroom apartment above a small grocery store on Parkwood Drive not far from where Lillian lived before she went to California. The store was owned by a widow, Mrs. Gusky. a very nice lady,
Now that the war was over all the factories were back to their regular business. I wanted to go back to Fisher Body to see if they would hire me. My tough luck, they were on strike and I wouldn’t cross a picket line.
I soon got a job as a draftsman at the Apex Electric Company. They made washing machines. My mother had an Apex wringer washer. The machine had an agitator that did the washing and then one had to run the clothes through a wringer so you could hang them on a clothes line in the back yard. Automatic washers and dryers were coming into their own and all the home appliance manufacturers were working on them. Frigidaire made one with a plunger that worked up and down to wash the clothes. Apex was working on one that had a bouncing basket. Engineers who try to be different can really be stupid some times. The basket of a washer holds approximately 25 gallons of water. At 8 pounds per gallon that is 200 pounds. It would take a very powerful motor to lift and bounce that much weight. Not even taking into account the extra strain on all the other working parts. They never did get that washer into production. I think they went broke trying to make it work.
Anyhow, after working there a few months I found we were spending more than I was earning. Lillian was pregnant and we needed more money. Mrs. Gusky wanted to retire, so for $500.00 I bought her store. There were shortages in many foods. Where Mrs. Gusky had to stay in the store and depend on salesmen to provide her with stock, I had an old Ford which I used to go to the wholesale houses and the farmer’s market and get fresh fruit and vegetables and even pick up groceries. I had stuff like bananas and lettuce that were in short supply and not available in the large stores like A&P and Fisher Brothers. Susan was born at Mt. Sinai hospital while we lived above the store.
After a few months things began to settle down to normal living. There were no more shortages of clothing or food. I couldn’t compete with with the chain stores on price and my business suffered. The man who drove the Bond bread truck lived close by and was interested in buying the store. I was happy to sell it to him for the $500.00 I paid for it.
My father had a drycleaning and tailoring store on Mayfield and Green Roads in South Euclid. I couldn’t live on the wages employers were paying at the timee so I approached him with a deal. He was sending the drycleaning to a wholesale cleaner. I would solicit drycleaning bring it in press it and deliver it, and he would pay me the going rate for bringing the work in and pressing it.
These were the worst days of my working life. I used my fathers car. Parking at the curb I walked and rang the door bells on every house on the street asking for drycleaning. In spite of myself I did pick up work. Actually most people were very nice, even those who said no were polite. My father always paid me a little more than he had to.
As the business grew I told my father we needed a new pressing machine. The one he had was too hard to operate. He said no, this was a very good machine. I kept after him. That old machine was killing me. He finally gave in and I bought a new pressing machine. After it was installed and he used it he was amazed. The old one was a back breaker. The new one made my life so much easier.
My next purchase was for a spotting board. We then had the wholesaler clean only, and I did the spotting. I would deliver and solicit cleaning in the morning and spot and press and bag the clothes in the afternoon.
Dresses were referred to as silks in the business. The wholesaler spotted and pressed all the silks. I had learned from experience. If I wanted to buy equipment I would start talking it up several weeks ahead of time. Then when I was ready to buy it papa would just shake his head but not argue. I bought a steam iron and board and a set of 4 puff irons. We also needed a larger steam boiler. I bought a used four horsepower boiler to replace the old half horsepower one we had. I watched them install it so I would be familiar with how they did it.
Wonder of wonders the business kept growing. We hired a presser who also pressed the silks. Then it was time to buy a delivery truck. I bought a new Chevy ½ ton delivery van which I used to drive back and forth to work.
We answered an ad in the newspaper for a new housing development off Babbit Road in Euclid . The downpayment was low enough to fit our budget. The house was a three bedroom brick colonial. No basement. Parkwood Drive was fast turning into a slum area so we didn’t hesitate and bought. We were the only Jewish family on the street. The neighbors were friendly and we got along very well. An Italian couple lived across the street. He drove a ready mix concrete truck. Since we did not have a paved driveway we made a deal. Every time he had a little bit of concrete left over from a job he would bring it to our house and I could pave the driveway a little bit at a time. He charged me $5.00 each time for his trouble.
There was a Jewish temple which we joined and attended services every Friday evening. It was pleasant living there. However, when Michael and Susan started school they ran into discrimination problems. We did not want our children to have to endure that kind of prejudice so we started looking for a house in Cleveland Heights. We found a nice colonial with 3 bedrooms on Cedarbrook Road in University Heights. It was owned by Sam Lecht. He and his partner whose name was Moskovitz were in the same same business as my brother-in-law Izzy in Sheriff Street Market. Since I had used my veteran benefits for a discounted loan to by the house in Euclid, my brother let me use his to buy this house.
As the business grew we bought our own drycleaning machine. No more wholesaler. I did all the drycleaning and spotting. I also did practically all the repairs and maintenance. We needed a larger boiler. We bought a 10 horsepower Sellers boiler which came in pieces. About 3:00 PM one day I started putting it together. I finished at about 4:00 AM the next day. At 6:00 AM I called the electrician to wire it and by 10: AM we were back in business. Didn’t miss a days work.
I put in all the rails that hung from the ceiling and did all the steam fitting and plumbing work needed.
The drycleaning business was coming along very well. We needed more room so we moved into a double store in Mayfield Heights. At one time I had 3 trucks on the road. I still wanted more. A new post office was built in Lyndhurst, a neighboring suburb. The former post office building was available. I managed to get a loan and bought the building. It was 20 feet wide by 100 feet deep and had a loading dock in back. I had it closed in and made it the boiler room. There was room in front for a circular drive which we had paved and we had a drive-in.
Having 3 trucks was a big headache. Drivers were hard to get and they didn’t stay long. Trucks needed constant service. So one day I did some figuring, and I found that if I got rid of the trucks I would need very little more business and be better off with just the drive-in business. It turned out even better than I expected.
One day at work I got a call from Lillian. Her mother, who lived alone, had called. She had fallen down and could not get up. She had managed to reach the phone, but the doors were locked. I told here to call a funeral home that I knew had an ambulance service and tell them to break the door down if they couldn’t get in. They managed to get in without destroying the door and took here to the hospital
When she was released from the hospital we put a bed and dresser in our dining room. She was unable to climb the stairs. We also felt she would be unable to live alone anymore. Since the house had no stairs to the attic and the attic space was too small, we decided to go house hunting again. The house we bought on Fenwick Road seemed ideal. The third floor had a bedroom and a full bath. It was originally supposed to be used for a maid’s room. Also it had a finished play room in the basement. It was owned by a wealthy surgeon who moved out on Gates Mills Boulevard.
The drycleaning business would never have been my choice, if I had a choice. I would have preferred almost anything else. It was the only thing opened for me, so I determined to make a success of it. I had a wife and 2 children depending on me. If I had to go into a retail business, I would have preferred a hardware store.
Some of the local drycleaners started a small organization which I joined. It was aptly name the Cleveland Cleaners Institute. Misery loves company must be a true saying. I really wanted some one to tell me that I wasn’t the only person having problems. I became fairly active and it was nice to be able to discuss my business problems with other interested people.
Howard and Marge Jones lived across the street from our grocery store on Parkwood Drive. She came in the store and asked if I knew of a house to rent in the area. They wanted to move to a nicer location. I put her in touch with a realtor I knew and soon she was living in a small house on Wilson Mills road. She then asked for a job. When my clothes bagger/counter girl quit I called Marge to fill the vacancy. She turned out to be an excellent employee. When I needed a truck driver she asked me to hire her brother, Frank Brennan who had just been laid off at the factory where he worked. Drivers were always quitting. Soon there was another opening for a driver. Frank mentioned a man he had worked with who had also been laid off. Bob Boevington turned out to be a terrific employee. He took his job very seriously and worked hard at it.
One day a real estate salesman came in and asked if I would be interested in opening another store in Chesterland. I went to look it over. A local man was building a shopping center on the corner of Mayfield Road and route 303. This would be the center of the village. It seemed like a good location to me, so I took a flyer and made a deal. The store was only moderately successful. I hired a local woman to run it and I would stop by every day to see how it was going. I had the feeling that she was not the type to work well with her customers, but could not pin it down.
Did I say I never liked the drycleaning business? The work was hard and some of the customers were terrible to deal with. It seemed that some people felt that it was their duty to give the drycleaner a hard time. So I sold the enter business to Bob. My thinking was that if he worked as hard as he did for me, he would certainly work harder for himself. He had no money so I had an attorney draw up a contract. He owed me $250,000.00 at 7% interest. I don’t recall what the payments were, but they must have been close to $1000,00 a month. No money down and his first payment was due the tenth of the second month. In other words he payed only out of his profits. He never missed a payment and was never late with one.
After a couple of weeks of loafing I figured it was time tp go back to work. I answered an ad in the paper for a salesman to sell drycleaning and coin laundry equipment. The company was in Pittsburg, but my territory would be northeast Ohio and northwest Pennsylvania. Eddie Resnick was the owner of Benson Equipment Co. located in a suburb south of Pittsburg. I worked for him for several months. I noticed that he was always helping his other salesman whenever he was asked. Even calling on customers with them. Whenever I asked him to help me with a customer he was always too busy. People who were spending several thousand dollars for equipment would be more receptive if the owner of the company came to see them.
I had sold a very large ten roll flatwork ironer to a laundry in western Pennsylvania. I flew to Chicago with the owners son so he could see the machine at the factory. I paid all the expenses. Air fare, hotel and restaurants. Then when the machine was delivered I had to spend 2 days at the laundry while the mechanics assembled it.. When I got my pay check I received about one half the commission I felt was due me.
My nephew Larry Shafron Ethel and Izziy’s son) was building a little shopping center in Northfield, a small town south of Cleveland and wanted me to open a coin laundry in one of the stores. I was disgusted with my boss Eddie Resnick so I said I would.
Larry and I were partners in the Nordonia Coin Laundry and Drycleaning store. Besides coin operated washers and dryers, I put in a drycleaning and pressing machine and dress pressing equipment. The store was fairly successful. After several months we opened another store on the west side. It was a narrow store with a large glass frontage in a shopping center on Clark Avenue near West 25th street. Like the store in Northfield I also put in dry cleaning equipment. Only the attendant did the drycleaning and pressing. The neighborhood was ideal for a coin laundry. It was a lower class area of all blue collar workers. Mostly two and four family homes, and small apartment houses. It was a big success from the day we opened the door.
Meanwhile Lillian was working in a travel agency and I went on an occasional trip with her. Larry talked her into opening her own agency because he thought he would get to travel free as a partner. So we formed a four way partnership. Larry wanted Arthur Leb, his brother-in-law and his accountant Mort Goldberg included. We found a location in the lobby of a doctor’s office building on Cedar Road close to Warrensville Center Road. Lillian had a good following in the travel business, but she was afraid to tackle the business part on her own. She insisted I work with her. My sister Ruth’s husband Eddie (Mookie) needed a job, so I turned over the operating of the coin laundries to him.
We spent six years in the travel business. Lillian organized group tours which we advertised in the Sun Messenger, a local weekly newspaper and in the Jewish News, also a weekly paper. We were the group leaders and got to do a lot of traveling. We also went on as many familiarization trips as possible. These were offered by tour operators for travel agents so they could then sell them to their customers.
Lillian’s doctor discovered that she had several polyps in her colon during a routine examination. He suggested that she see a cancer surgeon as soon as possible. She went to Dr. Turnbull at the Cleveland Clinic who was using a new procedure using radiation and not chemo therapy or surgery. I asked one of the doctors whose office was in the building, and he said Dr. Turnbull was the best in his field. Turnbull was scheduled to leave for Paris, but he said he would do the surgery before he left. I firmly believe he did not do the surgery, but left it to two young doctors who were working with him to learn his techniques. Lillian suffered for several days in the hospital. Dr. Turnbull returned from Paris and said he would take her down to surgery and examine her under an anesthetic because she was in so much pain. After his examination he declared that the surgery was fine. He said that her problem was due to Irritable bowel syndrome and to take her home and treat her for that.
I took her home and nothing helped. One day I touched her toe and she yelled with pain. Then I was really scared. I knew Joddy Gross had a stomach doctor who helped her daughter Jerri Ann. I got his name and phone number and called Dr. Harvey Dworkin at Lakeside Hospital. He said he could see her in two weeks. I told him she would be dead by then. He must see her immediately. I think I was on the verge of tears. Anyhow he said to bring her right in, which I did. After a very short examination he thought the cancer had spread and blocked he colon completely. He scheduled surgery for the next morning.
I was back at the hospital early the next day. A woman came into the waiting room. She was a cancer patient. She was preparing me for the worst. She told me her cancer was inoperable but she had learned to accept her fate and to live with it. I couldn’t wait for her to leave. Finally the surgeon came in and told me the news. It was not cancer, but a large radiation burn. He performed a temporary colostomy which would be reversed in a few months. Every time I think of that SOB Turnbull I seethe.
After that ordeal Lillian did not have her heart in her work anymore. Who could blame her. She soon turned sixty-two and retired. I hung around until I closed a deal with Alan Weiner and retired also and we moved to Florida
.
. . .