Reflections of a Centenarian

On January 1, 1941, my husband, who was a reserve officer in the United States Army, was placed on active duty. He closed his dental office, put his furnishings into storage, and proceeded to live the military life. In the summer of 1941, he was sent overseas, destination unknown, supposedly for a year. I was alone with a four-month-old baby, and had to decide where to go. My parents had both died, so I could not go home to Mom or Pop, although I did return to Philadelphia to stay with a married sister. She too had an infant baby to care for, and I realized that this had to be a short visit. I was free to choose where to live. I envied those who enjoyed a warm climate, and so I decided to spend the winter in Miami Beach. I liked it so well that I stayed for two years. Miami Beach was a small community at that time. I lived at 1535 Meridian Avenue. Some Northerners I met there would ask me who was sick, my baby or me. At that time, a great many people moved to Miami Beach for health reasons. I made friends and spent a lot of time on the beach. Then suddenly a big change occurred in 1942. The United States Army took over the hotels and apartment buildings to serve as housing for American troops. During this time, Miami Beach bulged with soldiers. There was an officer training facility for the Army Air Corps that produced “90-Day Wonders.” Many of the troops were new recruits who had to acclimate to Army life. They held informal classes in Flamingo Park, within sight of Miami Beach residents and tourists. The GI’s, “Government Issue,” as we referred to the soldiers, were receiving basic training. Early every morning, they marched in the streets. At any time of day, a company of men could be marching by. They did not go quietly. They were either chanting or singing as they went along. A favorite song of British origin was: Bell bottom trousers, Coat of navy-blue Let him climb the rigging Like his daddy used to do. The shops along Washington Avenue served as mess halls, and one could see quart jars of jelly and of peanut butter on every table to appease the appetite of hungry young men. Several shops became photography studios so that the GI’s could send a picture home in uniform. The manufacture of radios, a relatively new gadget at the time, was discontinued during the war. Factories of all sorts were instead used to manufacture items essential to the war. Therefore, radios were scarce in the marketplace. However, I had an RCA radio set in my living room, and friends would stop by to listen to the news and popular music. A younger brother of a close friend was sent to Miami Beach for basic training. He was an unusually skilled tennis player. There were tennis courts all around Miami Beach, and GI’s could use them. After basic training, Harold was assigned to the recreation department to teach tennis and be in charge of the tennis program. He very often visited me to enjoy some home cooking and listen to the radio. Harold would later become a professional tennis teacher and was widely recognized for his skills. Harold was great with my little daughter, who was just two years old at the time. He would play roughhouse with her, which she missed because her father was overseas. In time, in an oceanfront hotel, they established an officer’s club in the lobby. I joined the club and often went there for dinner. The beachfront was used by the officers’ families. I enjoyed swimming there, and I gained the reputation as “the girl swimmer.” The Red Cross also held first-aid classes there. The children were affected by the military influence. My daughter, who spoke fluently even at age two, asked to have GI shoes. To her that meant brown shoes instead of white buckskin. The movie theaters were always packed, and the GI’s paid only twenty-five cents admission. The items of jewelry sold in the stores along Lincoln Road reflected the military presence. At that time, my husband was a captain, and I still have the silver bars of his rank. Whenever Margie saw a parade of soldiers, she stood still and smartly saluted the ranks. I am certain that many of the soldiers loved the area and looked forward to returning as civilians. When I received a canceled check from my bank that was stamped Reykjavik, Iceland, I knew where my husband was stationed. Louis would be in Iceland for two years before being rotated. There is a great camaraderie among Army people, and when you see them, they make you feel that you belong.