THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 6, 1995 TAG: 9508040673
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J3 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Book Review
SOURCE: BILL RUEHLMANN
LENGTH: Medium: 83 lines
THE MIDDLE-AGING of the postwar baby boomers has been so central to media attention of late that it is a relief to report the publication of a book best appreciated by their parents.
Home Front America: Popular Culture of the World War II Era (Chronicle, 144 pp., $17.95), by Robert Heide and John Gilman, recalls and celebrates the domestic side of a national effort that spurred success from the other side of the trenches.
Without question, privation and casualties made the years between Dec. 7, 1941, and Sept. 2, 1945, a period of dread and grief. But it was also a time of great commonality of purpose and, yes, unbridled optimism. We would win the war together, and together we would share a better future.
Those great expectations came true. But the better future was not uniform for all and divided us dramatically in unforeseen ways. Half a century later, Americans have more than their forebears - and less.
Heide and Gilman were kids when the war broke out. Gilman lived through it on Waikiki, in Hawaii, amid beaches ringed with barbed wire after Pearl Harbor. Heide grew up in small-town Irvington, N.J.:
``I remember the sense of unity the war seemed to bring to families on the home front. Neighbors and teachers became Civil Defense officers, purchasing their uniforms from local dry goods or department stores. During air raids, which seemed all too real to me, we would sit silently on the floor as my mother and father pulled the drapes across the windows.''
It is worth remembering that there were more than 12 million volunteers in the Civilian Corps, 1 million fewer than in the armed forces. Many were women. Five million women worked in industry during the war; an airplane factory worker, Rosina Bonavita, gave her name to a brand-new stereotype - ``Rosie the Riveter.''
Meanwhile 350,000 women joined noncombat military services after they were opened to them in 1942, one long quick-march step toward liberation.
Even after five decades, it is hard to fault the advice of an official ``War Conservation Message'' from the Office of Price Administration:
1. Conserve everything you use. Use less.
2. Buy only what is necessary.
3. Salvage what you do not need.
4. Share what you have.
To offset expected food shortages, we grew Victory Gardens on rooftops and in back yards. During the peak years there were an estimated 20 million of them in America, producing over a third of the vegetables available. We didn't eat much meat, especially on Tuesdays.
We ate Spam instead, 272 million pounds of it.
Fried in Crisco with creamed corn. Sliced beside pineapple and avocado - Spam Aloha. ``Unpacked with pride, eaten with relish.''
Remember radio? Jack Benny. ``Jell-O again!''
We danced ``The Victory Polka.'' We bought War Bonds. We rationed gas, rubber, sugar:
``Sugar cane is needed to make molasses. Molasses is used to make industrial alcohol, which is needed to make explosives. Explosives are needed to sink the Axis!''
We saved scrap.
``I'm told that a single pound of kitchen grease will make two anti-aircraft shells,'' reported actress Helen Hayes in Liberty Magazine. ``So you can bet that not one drop of waste fat in my house ever goes down the drain. Instead, I send it back to my meat dealer - and on its way to war.''
A red, white and blue banner in the window meant the family had a son in the service. A single gold star meant he would not be coming home. The telegram always read: ``We regret to inform you. . . . ''
Kate Smith sang Irving Berlin's ``God Bless America.'' Donald Duck sang ``Der Fuehrer's Face.'' Everybody sang ``When the Lights Go On Again (All Over the World).''
It's all there in Home Front America, lovingly laid out and illustrated, the sacrifice, the sentiment and the swing shift.
Moppin' up soda pop Rickies
To our hearts' delight,
Dancin' to swingaroo quickies -
Jukebox Saturday night!
Gee, Dad, it was a Wurlitzer.
- MEMO: Bill Ruehlmann is a mass communication professor at Virginia Wesleyan
College. by CNB