Pittsburgh Remembers World War II

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Pittsburgh Remembers World War II Page 11

by Dr. Joseph Rishel


  Collecting scrap was the principal way in which children could aid the war effort. The students of Lee Public School in Pittsburgh pose triumphantly with 155 tons, the city’s largest effort as of October 1942. Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.

  Mr. and Mr. James Randolph of Glassport pose in 1944 with thirteen of their fourteen children and their war bonds. One son, not pictured, was serving in the army in Europe. Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.

  Another thing that Ed remembers were the blackout drills that were practiced routinely. His brother, Stewart Campbell, was the air raid warden for Pinkerton Road, close to where his farm was located. They knew when the blackout drills were to take place. There was a building with a siren on it that would alert everybody to cover their windows and turn off the lights when a night drill occurred. “My brother would go up and down Pinkerton Road and make sure everybody had lights out and no one was traveling. To my understanding, Stewart volunteered for the job.” Ed’s mother volunteered to be a paramedic. Mr. Kramer, a man who ran a business in Oakdale, was teaching first aid classes that Ed’s mother attended regularly. Ed even remembers practicing air raid drills in school. When a drill would take place, everyone would go into the hallways or the basement to take cover. Everybody did his part, including the teachers. “If there would have been an emergency during the day, teachers were trained to drive the buses home,” he says. “All of those drills went on throughout high school.”

  Ed dropped out of high school at the age of seventeen. He remembers the exact day: February 24, 1945. Ed went to work in a mill in Carnegie that was doing defense work, like every other mill in the area. All the mills had been switched over to wartime production. The first job he had was to make lids for bomb boxes. Bombs would be placed in these boxes and covered with the lids they were making. They were then transported overseas in military aircraft. When his mill had made enough lids, they began to make end connectors for tanks. The tanks in the South Pacific were having trouble going through swamps and harsh terrain. These end connectors would be attached to give the tanks more leverage going over tough obstacles. They also made porcelain signs to replace metal ones at his mill. These signs are all but extinct today but were used very often back then.

  Ed says there were no labor issues in the mill during the war. It was difficult to staff the mills that took up defense work due to the worker shortage. “The mills were going twenty-four hours a day and couldn’t even get enough people to work them because so many of the young people were going into the service. Many immigrants were hired, and they fit right in with everybody else. There were no issues regarding the immigrants at home or at work.” Carnegie became a very ethnically diverse area because of its industrial character. Ed says that management was deeply concerned about safety. “There were lines painted on the floor so everybody knew that no matter what, you were not to step past that line or you could get seriously injured,” he recounts. He just laughs at mention of the iconic Rosie the Riveter. He thinks it funny because his wife’s name is Rose and she was always called that. Ed says, “Every woman who worked in the mill was called ‘Rosie.’ They worked alongside everybody else with no problems. In fact, many stayed on and worked in the mills after the war. Most of them got married to millworkers at some point, but there were some that stayed on and worked.”

  Many remember the stars hanging in the windows of those families who had loved ones in the service. A blue star meant that the family had a son or daughter in the service, and a gold star meant that they had died in the service. He notes that these stars were everywhere, and he has sympathy for the poor mothers who had to deal with the loss of their sons. “Everyone had stars hanging in their windows, and some even had three or four stars in the window. Quite a few did that,” Ed says. “Everyone was patriotic and backed the government 100 percent. The only ones who questioned the war were the mothers who lost young sons over there.”

  A female carpenter, one of many “Rosie the Riveters” serving Pittsburgh’s war industries, operates a drill press at Robertshaw Thermostat Company. Carnegie Public Library.

  Rationing was a very important part of the war effort on the homefront. Ed remembers that everyone felt the ration books were a “fair way of doing it.” He admits that people knew how to get extra things on the black market, but most stuck to the government-controlled rationing system. Gasoline was the main thing that people needed. Everyone knew of the “certain” local gas station where one could go and purchase extra gas without a stamp. Ed’s brother Stewart had an H sticker for his tractor. This sticker allotted him plenty of gas because farmers used a lot more gas than the average person. Farmers were deemed to be very important to the war effort and always had enough gas. “Universal Oil Company would come fill up my brother’s gas pumps. Because he had two of his own next to the barn, he had more than enough gas to get by during those times. I remember there was a story in the paper about a station in Pittsburgh that turned in a bunch of H stickers that only farmers used. How many tractors could drive on the North Side of Pittsburgh? Despite stuff like that, everybody thought it was fair. The OPA [Office of Price Administration] set the price on it and everybody got the same amount. They also set prices on things like butter and cheese, but gas was the big one that everybody wanted. Everyone also wanted dairy products and meat. If you had a lot of one thing and none of another, you would just trade with your neighbor.”

  Ed Campbell’s war ration book. Note the book required the signature of the person to whom it was issued. Edward Campbell.

  In the spring of 1944, Ed recalls how people felt that something big was about to happen. All of the troops in England seemed to be mobilizing and getting ready for the invasion of France. And on June 6, 1944, it happened: D-Day. He notes that the significance of the moment was felt around Pittsburgh and that everybody stayed inside and listened to the reports on the radio. “We lost a lot of friends that day. I knew a paratrooper that died, shot while he was still in the air, jumping into Normandy. It was a sad day,” he says. Despite losing so many friends, he never saw that official U.S. military vehicle pull up to anyone’s house to deliver the dreaded news.

  In the summer of 1944, Ed went to work on his brother’s dairy farm. He recalls hearing reports of the war on the radio. Specifically, he remembers one reporter named Edward R. Murrow. He says that Murrow reported from Britain when they were being bombed. Everybody knew who Murrow was and listened to his reports every night on the radio. He was viewed as a very courageous reporter because he did not take cover but chose to cover the story from the front lines.

  As for President Roosevelt, Ed puts it simply: “They didn’t want anybody else in there.” The people trusted him and loved everything about the man. Many people knew he was ill, but they thought he would live to see the end of the war. Ed thinks his social programs were popular. “Nobody had a problem with him running for four terms.”

  During World War II, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Matthew Ridgway, Omar Bradley and George S. Patton became household names. This was a source of pride for the American people, and they were looked upon as great men who did great things for their country. The war ended with the introduction of the atomic bomb. “Some people were against the way Truman ended the war,” Ed relates, “but the way I see it, we didn’t have a choice. Who knows how many lives we would have lost if we invaded Japan? Many people were still very angry about Pearl Harbor, and their feelings were ‘Get rid of them Japs.’”

  Toward the end of the war, Ed turned eighteen and received his draft notice. However, the next month Congress ended the draft, so Ed missed going into the service. When the Korean War started up just a few years later, the draft picked up where it left off during World War II. He was one of the first drafted for the Korean War.

  Ed Campbell’s wife, Rose, grew up on the North Side of Pittsburgh. She was about eight years old when the war started but has a remarkable memory of what happened during the war. She has many memories similar to Ed’s. However, because she was growi
ng up in the city, there were some very interesting differences.

  Unlike Oakdale, blackouts in the city were very strict. They often came without warning. There were many steel mills that were very close by, and they were considered strategic targets for the enemy. The entire city was aware of this, so they were very disciplined during drills. “All the lights in the homes had to be turned off, and you couldn’t turn them back on until you heard the siren again. The air raid wardens actually went up and down the streets with their flashlights checking all of the houses.”

  Her parents were Ukrainian immigrants who instilled a hardworking mentality in their family. Her brother was a machinist when the war first broke out. She said that many people, such as her older brother, received deferments because they had a skilled trade. “My brother didn’t have to go into the service because he was exempt. He received two deferments, and they told him his expertise was needed in the mill. He never sought out those deferments, but he was just given them. It got to a point where he just couldn’t take it anymore because all of his buddies had enlisted. So he went and enlisted in the marine air corps.”

  The light from the streetcar safety island in Grant Street pierces the darkness during the air raid blackout of October 27, 1942. Carnegie Public Library.

  She remembers how everyone was so patriotic during that time. “Having stars hang in your window was like a banner. We had two gold stars on our street. Everyone knew who they were and how they were killed,” she recalls.

  The inner city of Pittsburgh was extremely diverse with many immigrants. Rose relates a story that seemed to reflect the mood of some Americans when the war started. “There was no difference in ethnicity regarding work. Everybody went to work no matter where you were from. There were some who resented the Germans. There was an incident with a girl around my age who lived across the street from me. She and her siblings attended school and church at a ‘Bohemian’ Catholic church called St. Wenceslaus. One day the father went to a service at the church and he was told not to come back because he was German and had a very German name. They were told to attend St. Mary’s, which was looked upon as the ‘German’ Catholic Church.” Other than that incident, Rose remembers people of all cultures being friendly to one another. She feels that people were comfortable in their own ethnic communities. She explains that immigrants settled in an area of the city, and whenever their friends and family came over, they settled in the same neighborhood. But according to Rose, neighbor helped neighbor regardless of where they were from or who their family was.

  As for rationing in the city, she remembers that dairy and meat products could “get scarce once in a while.” Almost everybody followed the prices that the OPA set, so everybody got a fair share. She relates, “During the war is when they started to use margarine. There was a little button of coloring that you squeezed to give the margarine its color. Some people got scared and thought that the coloring made you sick, but that wasn’t true.”

  There were buildings set aside on the North Side where children could take paper and metal to recycle. They called all of the kids who helped out with the effort “commandos.” She says, “The more scraps you brought to them, they gave you an emblem. But we would have done it anyway even if we got nothing in return. It was also like that buying war bonds. You had to have that money once a week.”

  Rose has vivid memories of propaganda during the war. She recalls that one could not turn a corner without seeing posters. Uncle Sam posters and the anti-Japanese and anti-German posters were all over town. These posters had different pictures on them about the sneakiness of the Japanese and the ruthlessness of the swastika-bearing Germans. She remembers the patriotic music of the time. Songs such as “White Cliffs of Dover,” “There’s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere” and “God Bless America” were all very popular and very inspirational during the war. They saw newsreels of Bob Hope entertaining the troops overseas. Local people got involved in USO events in Pittsburgh by organizing dances for the soldiers where they could go and meet young women.

  Parades honoring the nation’s military attracted large crowds. Such events helped build enthusiasm for the war effort. This parade is on Fifth Avenue in Pittsburgh’s Uptown neighborhood. Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.

  Although Ed had remembered listening to Edward R. Murrow on the radio, Rose listened to Gabriel Heatter every night. He was a famous newsman, noted for his catchphrase, “There’s good news tonight,” who had a nightly show that was popular nationwide. “It’s not like today when you can find out what is happening right away,” Rose says. “We didn’t know what was happening to the Jews right away because it took a while for it to get to us. After we got that news, so many people felt bad for the Jewish people for what they were going through.”

  Because she was from the North Side, she has fond memories of the parade that was thrown for “Commando Kelly.” Charles E. Kelly from the North Side was nationally known because he was awarded the Medal of Honor for his bravery in Europe. There was a big parade in Pittsburgh on April 25, which was designated “Commando Kelly Day.” Rose recalls how everyone was so proud because they were from “Commando Kelly’s” neighborhood. Later, the support facility in Oakdale was renamed after him.

  Rose also feels that most of the country loved President Roosevelt. She says her parents were very fond of him. She feels that he embodied everything that this country was about. “Everybody adored and trusted him,” Rose says. “It was a solemn, sad day when he died.”

  EVERYBODY HAD TO DO SOMETHING

  John and Sally Smith Haberman,

  As told to Heather Newell

  John Haberman’s and Sally Smith’s post–high school plans were put on hold the minute they learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Sally remembers hearing the announcement on the radio in her bedroom and dropping to her knees in prayer. The next day, in a school assembly concerning the attack, John knew he would enlist in the U.S. Navy upon graduation. Sally was equally motivated. “Send the guys; I’ll do it” defined her commitment, and that of many others, as she considered her wartime involvement. The Pearl Harbor bombing rekindled many not-so-distant memories for Sally’s older sister, Lillian Eakin. She recalled World War I efforts such as throwing money into American flags carried horizontally in parades and giving copper cookware and any gold or silver for war materiel. Changing plans and doing without weren’t altogether unfamiliar to these three McKeesport residents, and they understood well the necessity of both.

  John’s decision to join the navy was partly fueled by his previous experience in the Sea Scouts, a division of the Boy Scouts. The coast guard asked the boys to patrol the Youghiogheny River for any unusual activity or even submarines. The fact that they needed to be on the lookout for submarines—which would have had to first enter the mouth of the Mississippi at the Gulf of Mexico and then make their way up that river, the Ohio River and finally the Monongahela River before they could pose any threat to McKeesport—was very improbable. More likely, the coast guard wanted to build a sense of emergency in the young scouts. During their shifts up and down the Yough, they saw little more than riverbanks lined with mills producing war goods twenty-four hours a day. Instead of producing steel for cars and other domestic use, Pittsburgh steel mills were making war materiel such as bullets, bombs, masts and armored plates. “Whether it was ridiculous or not, you did it,” John says as a way of underscoring the public’s attitude toward the war effort.

  The South Side Works of Jones and Laughlin Steel Corporation, one of the nation’s largest producers. The banks of the Monongahela were lined for miles by the works of numerous companies. Senator John Heinz History Center.

  “Loyalty, duty, commitment” fueled John’s enlistment after graduation. On July 15, 1942, he left for Newport, Rhode Island, while Sally continued working at U.S. Steel. Lillian, a wife and mother, volunteered to register men ages eighteen to forty. Her husband, Louis, was forty years old at the time and operated a family real estate business in
McKeesport. She personally registered him for the draft. For Sally, this was a very somber time as she explains, “There was no one left.” The rest were waiting to be called. Though Louis Eakin was never asked to serve in active duty, beyond the age of those being called, he managed his own real estate business and that of another man who did fight in the war. Lillian recalls his long hours and the responsibility of essentially running two businesses at once as McKeesport’s population boomed due to the millwork opportunities. Lillian speaks of women who would call her personally to ask for her help in finding a place to live. Not only was the availability of existing housing limited, but the building of new homes was at a standstill. With most of the labor force at war or in the mills, a relative’s newly purchased pre-cut “Sears house” lay in the yard all winter for want of assembly.

  This North Park airplane-spotting watchtower was one of many ringing Pittsburgh. They were manned largely by American Legion volunteers. Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.

  Lillian and Sally’s parents were also involved in the war effort. John describes their “sense of preparedness,” which doubtless resulted from World War I and Great Depression experiences. Lillian would drive her mother, Eva Smith, to airplane spotter trainings. Taught to identify aircrafts by their silhouettes, she would spend her half-day shifts in a tower on a hill in Elizabeth Township, which was said to be the highest point in Allegheny County. Upon identification, she would phone in the plane’s direction and an estimate of its speed. This would then be matched with the log of registered flights and checked for accuracy. In addition, Mrs. Smith and other women met weekly to knit woolen “watch socks.” Lillian remembers the women knitting constantly, even in church, and sending the socks for the boys to wear while on watch.

 

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