New York in the 1940s

The online version of LIFE has a collection of the magazine's photographs of New York City in the 40s. Above, Central Park on Jan. 1, 1946.

The Blackhawk Says Goodbye

Dot's Diary, Friday, June 8, 1945:

“Today was the night of the Prom and what a night. Jim looked awfully cute. He brought me a lovely carnation corsage. The Michigan Ballroom was beautiful. Jim and I danced every dance. Then we went to the Blackhawk Restaurant and danced to the music of Del Courtney. We stayed there 2-1/2 hours and then rode around the lake. Wound up at the Latin Quarter. We wanted to go to more places but they were all closed. Got in the house at 6:15 a.m. Ummmm... what a night.”

Fast forward to November 2, 2009:

Employees are getting the word at this very moment: Don Roth's Blackhawk, which is celebrating 40 years in Wheeling, will close its doors for keeps at the end of the year.

“I come to this meeting with mixed emotions and heavy heart," said Ann Roth, wife of the late Don Roth, in a prepared statement. "It became crystal clear, that with my pushing 90 and with none of my children choosing to run the business, that 40 great years here were really quite enough for me.” [...] The announcement gives patrons plenty of opportunities to visit Don Roth's Blackhawk for one more meal. Or two.

"I expect the next two months to be busy," says longtime general manager Bob Vorachek. "I think there are a lot of people for whom the Blackhawk was a part of their lives, and they'll want to take one last spin, as it were."

New Year's Eve at Don Roth's ought to be quite an event, however bittersweet.

“We're going to go out while the Blackhawk is still a going concern, and still popular," Vorachek says. "The family is doing it the right way, with our heads held high and pleased that we were part of this history.”

That original Blackhawk at Wabash and Randolph, is no longer there. But I'll be at the Wheeling location one night during the next two months, thinking of another night, 64 years ago, and Dot and Jim.

Herb Martin

Herb Martin is the fellow who, for all practical purposes, was engaged to be married to my mother when he left to join the Navy in February of 1946.

Herb's life outside of the 1945-46 period in which he's in my mom's diary has been a mystery. Beyond September 20th of 1946--the last time Dot mentions Herb--I have had no clue to what became of him. Last we heard, he was stationed in Washington, D.C., and was by then dating a woman (coincidentally named Dorothy) in that city.

Lately I've found some more things out, and I've pieced them together below, in a sort of chronological order:

• On Dec. 30, 1928, Herbert Roy Martin and his twin brother, Peter N. Martin, were born, most likely in the city of Chicago.
• In 1930, the two 1-1/2-year-olds were living in Chicago at 7246 S. Oakley, (about three miles away from where Dot eventually met Herb) according to an official U.S. census report.
• Some time between 1930 and June of 1945, the Martins moved to 639 West 61st Place, a block or two from Dot's home.
• Dot meets Herb on June 26, 1945 outside of Whelans Drug Store.
• On February 4, 1946, Herb is sworn in to the U.S. Navy. He will become an S1C--Seaman First Class--before leaving the Navy.
• By June 13, 1946, Herb is stationed in Washington D.C.
• By mid-August 1946, Herb is dating Dorothy Babington in Washington D.C. Dorothy was born in 1928. She is the daughter of James (a truck driver) and Dorothy, and she has at least one sibling by 1946--a brother, James.
• Herb marries Dorothy Babington--probably in 1947 or '48.
• Herb and Dorothy have at least two children: Herbert Jr. and Christine.
• The Martins reportedly move to Washington D.C. in about 1955. It's unknown, but it's possible they may have previously been living in Herb's hometown of Chicago.
• Herb's last residence was in the 33161 zip code--the North Miami area.
• Herb died on Nov. 27, 1995. He is buried at Florida National Veterans Cemetery, Bushnell, Florida--about 50 miles west of Orlando.

That's all I have--for now. I'm still searching; perhaps this new information will jog a memory. If it does, drop me a line.

Two Years Ago

Hard to believe, but it was two years ago today that the Chicago Tribune published a profile of Dot's Diary in its newspaper. Thanks once again to the Trib's Eric Zorn. The article is still online here in case you missed it.

Pritzker Military Library

I'm busy this weekend, and it's cold and rainy here in Chicago. Otherwise, I might have visited this place which I first heard about only yesterday. It's the Pritzker Military Library, just north of the Loop, in the Streeterville neighborhood. If and when Chicago ever experiences a nice, fall day, I'll go there and post a report afterwards.

In Candace Thompson's Lincoln Park condo sit hundreds of yellowed pages filled with the loopy cursive writing no longer in favor.

They are letters her mother wrote while living on an Army base in post-World War II Japan and describe life in a Quonset hut, where the refrigerator ran on kerosene, baths were taken in the kitchen sink and two young daughters grew into toddlers. Thompson says the letters are humorous, describing a Spartan life that reveals lessons still applicable today.

"There are universal themes of friendship and family and community and dealing with hardship and scarcities," Thompson, 64, said of the missives for her grandmother in Covington, Ky. "I think the letters are not just entertaining, but they are inspirational."

Thompson has studied the letters, finding clues to how her parents, Bettie and Rex George, chose to raise their three children. And she's compiling the 30 frayed and tattered letters into a memoir, illustrating through the eyes of her young parents how the postwar world developed.

But filtering someone else's experiences into a book is no easy task, so Thompson enrolled in a memoir-writing workshop at the Pritzker Military Library that is designed to help fledgling writers capture their experiences and those of others for a historical record.

Baby boomers like Thompson, as well as veterans from across the armed services and others looking for literary guidance, are involved in the workshop. Whether the dozen or so participants are writing for the public or their families, recording the experiences of the military is an important venture, said Ryan Yantis, executive director of the library at 610 N. Fairbanks Court.

Relatedly, I have some new information about the love of Dot's life (that is, aside from the man she married), Navy veteran Herb Martin which I will post here soon.

The Valley of Decision

64 years ago today, Dot wrote in her diary:

“Got out of school and went downtown in search of a job. But— started back home and instead went to the Southtown and saw Don Juan Quilligan and Valley of Decision. Very good.”

I've never seen either of those films. Don Juan Quilligan appears to be a lightweight, long-forgotten, B-movie comedy. But I recently found clips from The Valley of Decision (see below). The 1945 film features Gregory Peck (in his third picture) and Greer (Mrs. Miniver) Garson as lovers across class lines in the world of 1873 Pittsburgh steel mills.

The movie's opening monologue, delivered by Peck, is particularly poignant. Some of it could have applied to Chicago, too, as the city was during the 1920s-40s, when Dot was growing up:

This was Pittsburgh in 1873,

Here on the hills lived the owners of the great mills,

And here I was born, in the house of my father [...]

Below, where the Monongahela and Allegheny Rivers joined to form the Ohio,

Steel was forged into rails and wheels,

To follow the paths of the covered wagons,

Into the future of a new America.

I can't say if Dot made the right decision--to go to the show instead of looking for a job. But she says this one was very good, and so when it comes out on DVD or turns up on TCM, I'll be there.

The Village--and JFK

The Village ice cream shop was at 7814 S. Ashland Ave.,

probably in the parking lot to the right of this building.

Dot had one of her typically busy days on October 14, 1946. She got a letter from Jim Parks, made a Voice-O-Graph recording with Dave, and then, with Chuck, Dave, Doty, Sunny and Sis, took a ride in Chuck's car to The Village–a “real cute ice cream parlor” at 79th & Ashland. Typically, it's difficult to find information about the small, 1940s-era establishments that Dot and her friends went to. That was the case with this ice cream shop, until now.

In July of 1958, its owner, William Scholl, gave testimony in Washington, D.C. before the U.S. Select Committee on Improper Labor Activities in the Labor or Management Field. Among the officials asking questions of Scholl were a Senator John F. Kennedy and his brother Robert. Other well-known government figures present were Barry Goldwater, Sam Ervin and Frank Church. The Chairman was Frank McClellan. Mr. Scholl apparently was a victim of extortion.

One of the Kennedys--I'm not sure which--asks questions of Scholl in this excerpt (emphasis mine):

Mr. Scholl: My name is William Scholl; 9232 South Trumble is where I live. My place of business is 3422 West 95th Street, Evergreen Park, 111. That is where the White Mill is. Village Ice Cream is at 7814 South Ashland Avenue, Chicago, 11.

The Chairman: Are you in the restaurant business ?

Mr. Scholl: I am, and ice cream, both.

The Chairman: You waive counsel ?

Mr. Scholl: Yes, sir.

The Chairman: All right.

Mr. Kennedy: Do you deal in any special product, Mr. Scholl ?

Mr. Scholl: Yes, I do, in a very high butterfat ice cream, one of the outstanding ones in Chicago, in Evergreen Park, and we make our own flavoring, chocolates, marshmallow, all of the different ones, and then we put on good whipped cream, pure whipped cream.

Mr. Kennedy: You have two restaurants, the Village Restaurant and the White Mill, the Village Ice Cream Shop?

Mr. Scholl: Yes, sir.

Mr. Kennedy: During 1951 you were approached by representatives of local 594 about organizing your employees ?

Mr. Scholl: I was.

Mr. Kennedy: What did they state to you at that time ?

Mr. Scholl: Mr. Trungale told me that I had to become a union house, and I would have to put some employees in the union. I told him I didn't want to. I said I didn't see what benefits they would get, or, "If you can tell me, enlighten me on what they would receive, anything better than what they are getting," and he said, well, he
didn't seem to know just what the wages were, but to keep on working under the same conditions, the same wages, which was far above the union wage, and the conditions would be the same, but I would have to put in about eight employees, which I did.

Mr. Kennedy: You did? You selected eight ?

Mr. Scholl: Eight employees.

Mr. Kennedy: Did he tell you there would be a picket line unless you put in these employees ?

Mr. Scholl: Yes; all the waitresses. I only have about two carhops.

Mr. Kennedy: How much money did you pay him at that time ?

Mr. Scholl: At that time I paid him $65.

Mr. Kennedy: In check or cash ?

Mr. Scholl: Cash.

Mr. Kennedy: Did you make payments periodically after that?

Mr. Scholl: I did for dues every 3 months.

Mr. Kennedy. Always in cash ?

Mr. Scholl: Yes ; always in cash. I had to come

Mr. Kennedy: 'Why did you pay him in cash ?

Mr. Scholl: Well, they wanted it in cash.

Mr. Kennedy: Who wanted it in cash ?

Mr. Scholl: Mr. O'Connor.

Mr. Kennedy: Did you just make the payment to Mr. O'Connor?

Mr. Scholl: The dues were paid to Mr. O'Connor.

Mr. Kennedy: Did you make these payments back in 1951 in order to avoid difficulties with the union ?

Mr. Scholl: Yes; I did. They would have a picket line out in front.

Mr. Kennedy: Was it a form of extortion, in your estimation ?

Mr. Scholl: In my opinion, it was.

I don't know what became of William Scholl after the hearings, but I hope things turned out all right.

As I noted above, the location appears to now be a parking lot. However, the building adjacent to it is probably very similar in appearance to the one that housed The Village--Dot's “cute, little ice cream parlor” that later came to be known by a future President of the United States.

Flesh and Blood

A 90-year-old finally talks about his WWII experiences.:

After the war, Grandpa tried to move on. “It took me almost a year to tell my wife and my parents anything,” he said. “I just couldn’t talk about it.” One day he was getting off a train near Michigan Avenue and Jackson Boulevard when a bus backfired. His first thought—gunfire!—made him throw his body to the ground. His second thought—get up and keep going—underscored the obvious: Life goes on. So he packed away the memories along with his medal and put them on the shelf until that Thanksgiving six decades later.

Chicago magazine has more.

The United Nations logo

The designer of the logo for the United Nations, Donal McLaughlin, has passed away at 102. Diary readers may recall the news of the day during 1945-46, as the U.N. was being created.

Besides the obvious, enormous challenges the new organization faced, it also needed a permanent location (Connecticut was a front-runner for a while) and--of course--a lapel pin. That's where the 38-year-old McLaughlin entered the picture. Formerly a designer for the Office of Strategic Services (of which, by the way, my father, Dave, was a member), McLaughlin proposed other ideas before hitting upon the one you see above:

The United Nations emblem had a difficult birth. Mr. McLaughlin, in his pamphlet, recalled that the initial task was to fit a pictorial image, along with the words “The United Nations Conference on International Organization, San Francisco, 1945,” on a round button measuring just 1 1/16 inches across.

Rejected prototypes included a globe surrounded by chains intended to represent nations linked in peace. “Linked in peace, but also a world in chains,” Mr. McLaughlin noted. Another image showed a chimneylike brick structure, bound by the “mortar of cooperation,” with an olive branch poking out. “Could be a trademark for the Structural Clay Products Institute,” Mr. McLaughlin wrote.

Eventually Mr. McLaughlin’s idea for a map projection of the continents, with the United States front and center on the vertical axis, won out. Ivan Spear, a team member, softened the image by adding laurel branches, an idea he borrowed from the Philco logo. Mr. McLaughlin, recalling that the laurel symbolized victory, substituted olive branches, a symbol of peace.

On Dec. 7, 1946, Mr. McLaughlin’s design, with slight modifications proposed by him, was adopted as the official United Nations seal and emblem.

As a graphic designer myself, I envy the great opportunity McLaughlin was given and I have tremendous admiration for the work he ultimately created--probably one of the world's most recognizable symbols, and one of the best.

Whelan's Drugs

This morning's paper has a business article about Walgreens' decision to reinstate sales of liquor in its drug stores. That got me thinking again about the now-defunct Whelan's Drug Store chain. (Dot first met Herb just outside the Whelan's on the corner of 63rd & Halsted St.).

A couple of years ago, I wasn't able to find much information at all about Whelan's, which once was a thriving company, along the same lines as Walgreens, Rite Aid and CVS are today. But today a search led me to the photo above and the text below, from the Museum of the City of New York. Altho the photograph is from 1936, it's my guess that this store didn't look all that much different from the one in Chicago in June of 1945, when Herb and Dot were meeting each other just outside on the sidewalk.

WHELAN'S DRUG STORE
Eighth Avenue and West 44th Street
FEBRUARY 7, 1936. ABBOTT FILE 67

This photograph, originally titled Modern Drug Store, depicts a new type of commercial enterprise. Replacing independent pharmacies that specialized in medicines, chain stores like Whelan's offered a wide array of low-priced toiletries, appliances, toys, candies, cigarettes, and, almost incidentally, drugs. 

In 1939, there were some 200 Whelan's stores in the country, half of which were in the metropolitan New York area. The trend was still new, however, with chain stores constituting less than 10 percent of the nation's pharmacy business.

This Whelan's was advantageously located in the heart of the theater district across the street from the new Lincoln Hotel.

Whelan's pioneered the chain store approach to selling pharmaceuticals, but it no longer exists.

The Worst Hard Time

For thousands of years, the panhandles of Oklahoma and Texas were seas of firmly-set grass--able to withstand drought, fierce winds, the inferno of many Julys, and the icy cold of winter after winter. They fed bison, the ranchers' cattle and gave Native Americans their hunting grounds.

Millennia of beautiful stability gave way within just a few decades with the arrival of the farmer and the plow. Countless acres were ripped up and seeds planted in the dirt. For a time, it seemed as tho it would work. The new settlers were prosperous. The rains and the towns came, and the crops were rich and plentiful. But it wouldn't last. They had sown the seeds of disaster by exposing the dirt to the wind and to dry spells. The world literally fell down upon the farmers of the Great Plains. They had created a Dust Bowl.

I'd had this book on my overloaded bookshelves since 2006, when it came out in paperback. Heartbreaking and yet reaffirming of human resolve (or stubbornness), The Worst Hard Time gives a mesmerizing, chronological account of this era of human-engineered, environmental catastrophe. Notably, author Timothy Egan presents parts of the story through the words of diaries. Egan's descriptions of day-to-day life, the dust storms and the havoc they brought are vivid and unforgettable. You might wonder, like me, if we've learned all that we should from the experience.

Ford City

Ford City shopping mall, on Chicago's southwest side, was the site of a bomber factory during WWII. With the end of the war in 1945, and a housing shortage at hand, the government considered GI housing. A fellow named Preston Tucker would end up using the buildings to produce his ill-fated autos. Barracks-like homes for war vets were constructed in the neighborhood. The three of us--me and my parents--lived in one of those paper-thin houses for a while.

The main route to the area back in 1945-46 was Archer Avenue--a diagonal thoroughfare running from downtown. The Stevenson Expressway and, later, the CTA's Orange Line made it easier. But the Orange Line stops north of the Ford City mall, at Midway Airport. Now, an extension to Ford City is being seriously considered. 

The city is under-served by its rapid transit lines, particularly to the south, southeast, and southwest sides. It might take several more years to correct that, but at least this is a start.