was Berta’s clothing budget:
Woolen Tweed Suit
$ .80
Print Dresses (3)
$ 1.05
Sack Dresses (3)
$ .45
Underwear (3)
$ 1.42
Shoes $2.97
Socks
$ .75
Slips & panties
$ .00
Hood
$ .00
Ribbons
$ .25
TOTAL $
7.69
The material for the tweed suit came from a remnant sale where Mrs. Richardson
had bought it to cover a chair and had enough left over for the suit. The only other
cost was for buttons and thread. The print dresses were for Berta’s “dress up” clothes;
34 Last Sunday at Peace: November 30, 1941
the material cost about 35 cents for each dress. The other dresses were made from
chicken-feed sacks. Mrs. Richardson bought shoes and socks after careful study of
the mail-order catalogue. The slips and panties had cost nothing because she had
made them from sugar and flour sacks. She even salvaged an old suit of her husband’s
to make a suit for herself that was her Sunday best for two more years.
“Her Sunday best” indicates that the Richardsons were church-goers, and
recalls a time when reverence was evidenced by the formality of dress becoming
to the Lord’s Day in the Lord’s House. Stand by the church doors of America
today, and you will see the members of a greatly reduced congregation clad
in shorts, jeans, sandals, and T-shirts. For the Tom Richardsons, reverence was
expressed in their church-going attire, even if it consisted of Tom’s worn suit
and Berta’s tweed costume made from an upholstery remnant. The Constitution
approvingly captioned the story “Makes the Most of What She Has.” 6 In the background of all of this creative activity was Ms. Frances Shelton, county home
economist, and beyond her, WPA sewing rooms and the National Youth Author-
ity Project.
Deflationary Times: Domestic Relations
The homes from which The Times ’s debutantes came and to which its brides
would go required ample domestic help to maintain standards and appearances.
Such help was plentiful in the waning years of the Great Depression when live-in
servants were common in modest middle-class homes. The classified section of
The Times Sunday Edition was replete with notices of female help needed and of
situations wanted. That these were indeed in many cases modest homes is made
plain by an advertisement for a young girl, housekeeper, with plain cooking
experience and references who would share a room with a five-year-old girl, all
for a monthly salary of $50. Race and ethnicity were significant factors in the
hiring equation. A doctor’s home sought a white girl to do plain cooking for a
small family. She would sleep in and have her own room and bath.
It was an age of governesses. An experienced young governess for schoolgirls
was offered $60 monthly. Where there was a problem child, the monthly salary
was bumped up to $100. You could buy a good deal of service for $70 a month, as
in the case of a business couple’s desire for a housekeeper-governess for an eleven-
year-old child. She would have a college education, be trustworthy with a pleasant
personality, young enough to be a congenial companion to a child and, into the
bargain, driving would be essential. For this desirable post, the would-be employ-
ers asked for the applicant’s “correct age” with full detail as to her background.
Religion was not usually specified for female domestic servants. But one fam-
ily advertised for a sleep-in housekeeper in the self-described “good home” of a
Christian family at a monthly salary of $55 to $60.
A sad story must have lain behind the advertisement for a housekeeper to take
full charge of three boys—nine, eleven, and thirteen years old in a motherless
home, kosher cooking required.
As We Were 35
Among aspirants for posts as chambermaids, one had a broad choice of candi-
dates identifying themselves as Scandinavian, Viennese, German, and Scotch. The
venerable occupation of lady’s maid, and French into the bargain, brought a salary
of $75 to $80.
Another category, which in its former sense seems to have disappeared, was
that of lady’s companion. One applicant for such a job described herself as British,
a driver, a dietitian who would not only travel but spoke Spanish and was both
unencumbered and congenial. An equally talented prospective lady’s companion
described herself as cultured, American, Christian, unusually helpful and, into
the bargain, healthy, happy, a nutritionist, who was artistic, sewed and could drive
anywhere. The most modest of advertisers for a position as lady’s companion
described herself as Swedish and educated, confessing that she was not young and
seeking only a small salary. There was evident here the need for a safe home.
The descriptor for the lowest level of domestic workers was simply “girl” and,
in accordance with the color codes of the time, references abounded to “light-
colored girls,” “colored, neat” and “high type.” What would such girls do? They
would cook, bake, wash and iron. But it is clear from the help-wanted pages of the
day that white servants were preferred for serving at the table. 7
If race was indicated in individual Times classified ads, the Houston Chronicle printed separate sections for “Colored” and for all others. 8
In the same vein, The Atlanta Constitution carried ads for a “reliable colored girl,”
a “neat experienced colored girl,” and a “colored undergraduate.” “Neat,” “reli-
able,” and “experienced” were evidently the highest accolades that could be offered
to “colored girls.” The ads do not state, but one assumes that the homes in which
they aspired to work would be almost exclusively white. 9
Deflationary Times: Home Economics
The homes in which these domestic servants would labor are described in com-
pelling detail in the real-estate classified section of The Times . In Larchmont Gardens, spaciousness and comfortable living were available in a home that in
addition to “the usual living room, dining room and kitchen” offered a library,
sun porch, four family bedrooms, two baths and “servant’s quarters.” Not only
was this home located with a sweeping lake view rich in waterfowl, but its final
appeal was its location in a “highly restricted residential neighborhood.” The
bargain price was $6,750 to liquidate an estate. It is apparent that the members
of the Ochs and Sulzberger families, proprietors of The Times , did not hesitate to publish advertisements for the sale of property in residential neighborhoods
where their presence would not be welcome.
In Great Neck Estates one could buy a stately brick colonial with four master
bedrooms, two baths, maid’s room and bath, den, and double garage on a large
plot for only $13,000.
In the Purchase area of Rye, a prospective buyer could view a white-shingled
colonial farmhouse, with green shutters; it offered four master bedrooms, two
36 Last Sunday at Peace: November 30, 1941
servants’ rooms, three baths, and extensive outbuildings, including two barns,
sta-
bles, a ranch house, and a garage with quarters; its grounds were graced by stately
trees, lawns, and gardens, plus a tennis court. All for $17,000.
Fashionable visitors to Southampton today would look wistfully at “beautiful”
home sites in the Shinnecock Hills at $300 an acre.
A similar range of offerings could be found in Los Angeles where a new three-
bedroom home sold for $5,850. A two-story brick veneer and stucco English dwell-
ing must have been a stately home indeed with its four master bedrooms, four baths,
a library, and living rooms paneled to the ceiling. Further elegant appurtenances
included a pipe organ, a swimming pool with adjacent dressing room, a three-car
garage with chauffeur’s quarters above, all on an acre of beautifully landscaped
grounds in the heart of Los Angeles. The selling price: $27,500.
In Atlanta, suburbs were expanding and new homes were rising. For a three-
bedroom, two-bath home, prices ranged from $6,650 to $8,700 with Federal Hous-
ing Authority (FHA) financing. Financing was key as another builder emphasized
that his new six-room homes could be financed by the FHA on monthly payments
of $38.51. 10
Builders of the time were as keenly aware as builders today of the primacy of the
down payment and the monthly payment over the sticker price of the home. Thus, in
Houston, a home on a 60 by 110 lot, graced with a large living room, dining room,
and “breeze kitchen,” two bedrooms with a sleeping porch and a two-car garage,
could be had for a down payment of $450 in cash and a $32 monthly payment. 11
Human Interest: Names Make News
The basic element of the news on Sunday, November 30, 1941, was, as it always
will be, names and the people who bore those names. An obituary in the Chi-
cago Tribune called to mind how brief was the history of Chicago. William G.
McCormick, who died at age ninety, was the son of William S. McCormick
who came to Chicago from Virginia in 1850. With his brothers Cyrus and Lean-
der McCormick, he was one of the founders of the great agricultural imple-
ment business that had produced so many innovations in farm machinery, and
indeed in the whole system of agriculture both at home and abroad. William
G. McCormick was a brother of Robert S. McCormick, who was, in turn, the
father of Col. Robert E. McCormick, editor and publisher of the Tribune . In his childhood years, Mr. McCormick rode to school daily on his pony and crossed
the Chicago River on a barge manned by an Indian.
In a country at peace, there were echoes of war. William Dutton Holland of
Englewood, New Jersey, had left two years ago to join an American ambulance
unit in France. Following the collapse of France in May and June of 1940, Hol-
land had journeyed to England via Portugal and joined the RAF. A twenty-four-
year-old member of the Eagle Squadron, he had been wounded when he was shot
down over France.
The residents of Northampton, Massachusetts, were sensitive to the desire for
privacy of Mrs. Grace G. Coolidge, the widow of the thirtieth president. She
As We Were 37
chose to avoid public appearances, even including the dedication of a bridge in
memory of the late president. But during the past week she had attended a local
meeting of the Fight for Freedom Committee, her first such meeting, her honor-
ary chairmanship notwithstanding. This, she said, had aroused protests, including
a letter that called her “an old age destroyer.” The former First Lady was then
sixty-two years old.
Alexander Woollcott was a popular raconteur, anthologist, and radio personality.
Arriving in New York on the liner Excambion from Lisbon, he declined to give reporters an interview. “My trade,” he said, “is selling what I know at so much a word.”
Corporal Albert S. Moxley of the Sixteenth Pursuit Squadron was aloft over
Brooklyn at 4,500 feet when his pilot pointed to the lights below. Misinterpreting
the wave of the pilot’s hand, Moxley took to his parachute and jumped, landing
on the cornice of a family house where he dangled until rescued. The resident of
the house offered Moxley a drink. He took it.
*
Few 1941 newspapers would have lacked a reference to Eleanor Roosevelt, the
wide-ranging wife of the President. She was to be initiated on December 12 as
an honorary member of the Radcliffe College Chapter of Phi Beta Kappa. Her
subject as the evening’s speaker was “Women—Nazi, Fascist, and Democratic.”
While The New York Times offered its readers Eleanor Roosevelt, the Chicago Tribune in its Sunday pictures section offered movie close-ups and sure-fire attrac-tions, pictures of pets and Betty Grable.
*
Among the celebrities of the day few would be better known than Ethel Bar-
rymore. She had made her debut on the New York stage in 1907 in Captain
Jinks of the Horse Marines. In 1926 she had played 295 performances of Somerset Maugham’s The Constant Wife. In the past week she had broken that record as The Corn Is Green entered its second year.
Local Geography: Oregonians Look Inward
The Oregonian for Sunday, November 30, 1941, headlined: “ FDR SPEEDS NORTH
AS WAR PORTENTS BECOME OMINOUS .”
But The Oregonian ’s gaze was concentrated inward. Its editorial spread entitled
“Blueprint for an Empire” was written by Richard L. Neuberger, later U.S. sena-
tor from Oregon. The editorial described the vast agricultural project in which
water from the Grand Coulee Dam would irrigate 1,200,000 acres, an area equal
in size to the state of Delaware and the largest block of agricultural land available
for development within the United States. It would bring 40,000 farm families
onto the newly available arable land and contribute importantly to the 350,000
new residents thereby added to the population of the Pacific Northwest. 12
The syndicated weekly supplement was a staple of American journalism. The
Oregonian offered the American Weekly for the edification of its readers, who would
38 Last Sunday at Peace: November 30, 1941
be treated to such articles as “Carving as a Household Art,” “The Confessions of
a Follies Beauty,” and this poser: “Do You Know How to Manage Your Wife.” Its
serial mystery was entitled “Murder By Mail,” the work of Mrs. Esther Kametz.
Added to murder was misery, the story of Georgette LeBlanc, the mistress of
Nobel Prize winner Maurice Maeterlinck, who had inspired his most famous
work The Bluebird. After he discarded her for a young wife, “the spark of genius eluded him, while broken-hearted Georgette struggled through years alone until
the drama ended.”
Perhaps the most universally popular feature of the Sunday papers across the
land were the comics. The Oregonian offered a full menu of comics, including these classics: Popeye ,
Smilin’ Jack ,
Polly and Her Pals ,
Moon Mullins ,
Henry ,
Dick Tracy ,
Smitty , L’il Abner , The Gumps , and Tarzan .
Diversions: Arts and Entertainment
The books reviewed in The Times on Sunday, November 30, 1941, showed a
global outlook. The lead review was The World’s Iron Age by William Henry
Chamberlain. Norway: Neutral and Invaded by Halvdan Koht, prime minister of
the conquered land, and London Pride by Phyllis Bottome ref lected nonfiction
and fictional treatments of aspects of the world crisis. Only Farthest Reach: Oregon FIGURE 4.2 Eleanor Roosevelt and Shirley Temple.
Courtesy of National Archives, photo 19561, NLR-PHOCO-A8066 from the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library collection.
As We Were 39
and Washington by Nancy Wilson Ross looked inward in its critical reporting of
developing economies and culture in the Pacific Northwest.
The keen interest of the American public in events abroad was made clear
by the list advertised by Reynals and Hitchcock. They included Fountainheads of
Freedom by Irwin Edman; The Kremlin and the People by Moscow correspondent Walter Duranty; Is Tomorrow Hitler’s? by veteran columnist H. R. Knickerbocker; The Atlantic System by Forrest Davis; and, in quite a different category, Plain Words About Venereal Disease by Thomas Parran and R. A. Vonderlehr. The publisher G.
P. Putnam’s that day was offering Churchill’s Blood Sweat and Tears ; I Have Loved England by Alice Duer Miller; tales of Nazi debauchery in Munich Playground by Ernest R. Pope; and Nine Lives by Alice Grant Rossman, the adventures of a
London cat in peace and war.
Knopf ’s offerings included popular classics: William L. Shirer’s Berlin Diary; Newspaper Days by the irrepressible H. L. Mencken; No Other Road to Freedom by Leland Stowe; and a tribute to an American philosopher, Mr. Dooley’s America by Elmer Ellis.
*
Brooks Atkinson, the dean of New York theater reviewers, knew how to disas-
semble a play. He conceded that Jerome Chodorov and Joseph Fields, the authors
of Junior Miss , knew “how to put a funny play together.” But there was little plot and a lot of rigging in a comedy he found tripping on its toes over several scenes
in the last act.
What is of interest two generations later is not the mechanics rigged up by the
playwright. The theme, Atkinson reported, was “the lightheadedness of growing
girls.” He found it “bubbling over with coltish entertainment.” These were nubile
adolescents but, in the end, Atkinson assures us that they were all “good girls.” A
trial, perhaps, he added, to well-behaved parents. But that, he said, was one of the
basic jokes of American life. One thing is clear: in Mr. Atkinson’s lexicon, these
were “girls,” and not “young women.”
*
Television transmission and programming existed in 1941. They were a little-
Crucible of a Generation Page 7