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Presidents’ Day: Celebrating Washington and Lincoln in the ’30s and ’40s

Today is Presidents’ Day.  You can follow a slideshow about all the presidents here.

When I was a kid, we celebrated George Washington’s Birthday (February 22nd) and Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday (February 12th) separately.  They also did in the 1930s and 1940s when Joan was a girl.

D. W. Griffith produced a film telling the biography of Lincoln in 1930.  It was written by Stephen Vincent Benet--a Pulitzer Prize winning author much beloved by Joan. Here is the movie in its entirety.

Joan writes about both presidents Washington and Lincoln when she is sixteen years old.

Sunday February 12, 1939

            Well, here is Lincoln’s birthday again—and surprise—I haven’t written a poem about it.  Usually, you know, I write a poem regularly about every holiday we get out of school for—and even some we don’t.  Oh well.  I always liked Lincoln better then Washington…

She does seem more interested in Lincoln. He shows up a lot in her diary.  After the war is well underway in Europe and North Africa, Joan reflects on the passing of life.  This passage she wrote when she was 18 years old.

Thursday January 26, 1941

            Beauty is unbelievable, isn’t it—all things superb, all tears for loveliness, all sweets, and all colour is in her…Oh beauty, nothing is as real, yet as unbelievable as beauty! —I’ve been standing at the kitchen window while the Tales of Hoffman played on the radio, watching the large snowflakes drift over the roofs…the church tower dim and grey and the sky like the grey-white sea…Oh beauty. 

You can listen to the Tales of Hoffman just like Joan as you read on.

            Perhaps the world is changing and we shall never get it back the same…But I think the things to be remembered will be different from what we think now.  I don’t think so much I’ll remember Dik, Larry, meteors I made so much noise over—but rather the sweet friendly face of Clyde Johnson, laughing with me in Harpers [Library]—Or Bud, singing “Auld Lang Syne” with his Bear’s grin.  The funny unsophisticated people.  The dependable ones we laughed warmly at.  Calvin—running his fingers through his hair…Oh friendly, lovely world…Every quiet day is equal to every day of comet glow…Sweetness of world…I’ve been to church today too:  “Whosoever drinketh of the water which I give shall never thirst.” Twice this afternoon they played “La Golondrina” on the radio and I recaptured from its notes Joe picking it out on his mandolin that first mad day on the station wagon, later in quiet night….Unbelievable quiet…oh world!  (This was life, this was living).

You can hear La Golondrina here and read a translation of the lyrics here.

            …British have captured Derma. All the faery-tale cities of the world—are real…Derma, Tobruk.  Oh world. 

…P.S. They reenacted the play they gave the night Lincoln was killed.  I was weeping for all the people dead.

The Assassination of President Lincoln *from left to right: Major Henry Rathbone, Clara Harris, Mary Todd Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln, and John Wilkes Booth

The Assassination of President Lincoln
*from left to right: Major Henry Rathbone,
Clara Harris, Mary Todd Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln, and John Wilkes Booth

A short while later, Lincoln’s Birthday arrives.

Wednesday February 12, 1941

            Hello!…Well, Lincoln’s birthday.  Stayed home alone and read “Das Abenteuer der Neujahrsnacht” for German…. Heard Wilkie[1] on radio tonight…Wants lots of aid to Britain….

Wendell Willkie

Wendell Willkie

Gabriel Heatter.  He always has that way of making you think “Tonight’s the night: –“These are the days”.  Anyhow, Franco has just met Mussolini…is to meet Marshall Petain tomorrow.  Rumours of peace between Italy and Britain.  Italy badly needs it—or so we’re told…’Nuff of Europe….


[1] Wilkie an unsuccessfully as a Republican for President in 1940.  Gabriel Heatter was a famous radio announcer.

Gabriel Heatter.

Gabriel Heatter. “There’s good news tonight” was a catchphrase of his.

You can listen to him announcing WWII news at this site where he talks about the “Latest Nazi Claims.”

All is not gloom and doom.  Joan manages to retain her sense of humor.  Weeks after Pearl Harbor,

Photograph from a Japanese plane of Battleship Row at the beginning of the attack. The explosion in the center is a torpedo strike on the USS Oklahoma. Two attacking Japanese planes can be seen: one over the USS Neosho and one over the Naval Yard.

Photograph from a Japanese plane of Battleship Row at the beginning of the attack of Pearl Harbor.

Joan writes about running into a beau, Bill Knisely.

3:15 AM Sunday Morning Dec. 21, 1941, Age 19

            After teaching today went to bookstore to get stamps.  Bill was quite flustered and gave me $1.25 change for a dollar.  I gave it back.  Me and Lincoln.  Later he called up and asked me out for tonite, but I had a date already.

The “he” asking her out for a date was Bill, not Lincoln!  Joan’s sarcastic reference mocks herself, while referring to Lincoln’s extreme honesty–“Honest Abe.”

Her jokes continue despite the oppression of the war.

Thursday February 12, 1942

            School even today.  Lincoln’s birthday, of course, but it’s not supposed to be patriotic to have holidays now.  Wartime, you know…Tomorrow Mr. Ashford is going to set off an incendiary bomb in Phy Sci [Physical Science]. If I don’t reappear, you’ll know why.

In February 1939, Joan had commented on how she had not written a poem in commemoration of Lincoln’s Birthday. But she did compose one a couple of weeks later–  an impassioned poem that seems to sense the coming war.

Feb 24, 1939 written when Joan was 16.                                                                                                 

They say that Arthur shall return again

And Joan of Arc to lead the troops of France,

But who shall come once more to us?

Dead is Lincoln and the white mold creeps

Upon the tomb of Washington asleep forever.

Arthur could not drive Caesar out

He was not yet come when Romans ruled.

Nor could young Joan rid Hun from Frankland,

She had not yet been born in Donremy.

Hear me!  Our dead are not yet entered life

A young man shall rise up to lead us yet.

Wait till the time shall come and we shall find

A burning youth with blood-red banner leading us.

Joan of Arc, Joan's namesake and much beloved heroine

Joan of Arc, Joan’s namesake and much beloved heroine

Photographs Documenting the Great Depression as World War II Begins

Bill Knisely was my mom’s beau just as the U. S. entered World War II.  The night before Pearl Harbor, Joan went to see Citizen Kane with him and some other pals.  Unfortunately, they had to leave the movie early, leaving Joan to puzzle, “Who the heck was Rosebud?”

As I was researching for the publication of Home Front Girl, I wanted to find out what happened to Bill.  Lo and behold, though Bill had passed away, his son and wife lived in my town!  So I looked them up and we have had several lovely encounters.  Recently Bill’s son Paul sent me some World War II photos from The Denver Post.  They are spectacular.  I will share some here, but do go to this page to see their selection.

Note the news headlines posted on the store, including

Note the news headlines posted on the store, including “Prince Calls on Roosevelt” and “[Churchill] Urges Italians Oust Mussolini”

Taken by the Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information between 1939-1943, they bear witness to the effects the Great Depression had on rural — and urban — America.

Chopping cotton on rented land near White Plains. White Plains, Greene County, Georgia, June 1941

Chopping cotton on rented land near White Plains. White Plains, Greene County, Georgia, June 1941

I was most taken with the photos from Chicago, Joan’s hometown.  A number of them show the railroad yard.

Putting the finishing touches on a rebuilt caboose at the rip tracks at Proviso yard. Chicago, Illinois, April 1943.

Putting the finishing touches on a rebuilt caboose at the rip tracks at Proviso yard. Chicago, Illinois, April 1943.

My grandfather worked for the railroad in Chicago.  He could have been this man, Mike Evans.

Mike Evans, a welder, at the rip tracks at Proviso yard of the Chicago and Northwest Railway Company. Chicago, Illinois, April 1943

Mike Evans, a welder, at the rip tracks at Proviso yard of the Chicago and Northwest Railway Company. Chicago, Illinois, April 1943

Maybe my Grandpa even knew Mike.

General view of part of the South Water Street freight depot of the Illinois Central Railroad Chicago, Illinois, May 1943

General view of part of the South Water Street freight depot of the Illinois Central Railroad Chicago, Illinois, May 1943

Women working for the war effort or taking over men’s jobs also appear in this photographic archive.

Women workers employed as wipers in the roundhouse having lunch in their rest room, Chicago and Northwest Railway Company. Clinton, Iowa, April 1943.

Women workers employed as wipers in the roundhouse having lunch in their rest room, Chicago and Northwest Railway Company. Clinton, Iowa, April 1943.

This “Rosie the Riveter” is hard at work.

Woman is working on a "Vengeance" dive bomber Tennessee, February 1943. Reproduction from color slide.

Woman is working on a “Vengeance” dive bomber Tennessee, February 1943. Reproduction from color slide.

Even children’s classrooms provided no escape from the war.

Rural school children. San Augustine County, Texas, April 1943.

Rural school children. San Augustine County, Texas, April 1943.

This last picture below from the Calumet City railroad yard harkens to a moment in Joan’s diary.

Switch engine in yard near Calumet Park stockyards, Indiana Harbor Belt Railroad. Calumet City, Illinois, January 1943

Switch engine in yard near Calumet Park stockyards, Indiana Harbor Belt Railroad. Calumet City, Illinois, January 1943

Joan writes an entry in her diary early in the morning after her 19th birthday on December 20, 1941, just a few weeks after Pearl Harbor.  The U. S. may be at war, but teenagers still have to be young.

3:15 AM Sunday Morning, December 21, 1941

Well, here I am healthy and hearty in spite of my old age of nineteen and feeling like the living example of late hours bring on good health. I feel as if I could lick 20 Hercules, though I probably couldn’t. Kenny and I were going to go out to Calumet City tonight so he arrived at eight after Paw and I had just had a birthday feast of chicken and the darlingest cake!—and wine. And he got me the cutest Baby Ben alarm clock!

Anyhow, Kenny arrived and we went to Jack’s house and drove with Jack et [Latin for and] mates to 63rd and drove around while they shopped and took mates back and Kenny and I went to his house and I met his mother and dad—she’s much younger—both of them are—than I expected. Very nice and asked me to dinner sometime, etc. He tells me Ruth (his sister) approves of me too. He said he wanted me to meet his parents ’cause they say he never goes out with a nice girl. . . .

We ate and then to Cal City. Beautiful drive. Stars all frosty and a-gleam and red fires of steel mills and we passed a train of tanks on the way back and a policeman or soldier at every bridge.[1] They wouldn’t take me in any place out there—it must be purty bad—except the Siesta Club and we couldn’t get a table there so we came back—all frosted night—to Zebra Lounge—drank—then to bowling. I did 64. I’m improving and then played shooting at submarines. I got 8,000, Jack 8,900, Kenny only 4,000. Washington should hear of this. Jack, too, is subject to draft now by the way. . . . Kenny got me a lipstick and Lucien Lelong Poker Chip cologne.

Vintage Lucien Lelong Tailspin Passionment 1940's Perfume Bottle Poker Chip Box

Vintage Lucien Lelong Tailspin Passionment 1940’s Perfume Bottle Poker Chip Box

Purty smell. . . . Just think—I’m nineteen now. I feel old and sophisticated.


[1] They were there for security purposes, in case of sabotage.

Even though they are having fun, the war pervades the atmosphere: the “train of tanks” with police guard, playing at shooting submarines [“Washington should hear of this”], and how the boys are “subject to draft”.

Snapshots from real life, visual and verbal.  They remind us how tenuous our present is, yet also how they can flare back into view, with a photo or diary.

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