"I was supposed to play (banjo) a few places yesterday at Lena. ... Let's see, I play at the manor tomorrow, and today's the 11th, so I've got this interview written down. Thursday I've got the day off!"
Jerry showed me his calendar, every square of which was dominated by an appointment.
I joked, "Your schedule is fuller than mine - where do you find time for all that?!"
For a few moments we talked about Jerry's musical commitments. Then, in absolute contrast, he pointed out a black and white article: "[This man] was killed on Ie Shima and I was about 100 feet from him when he fell down and died. There were some other officers here and us guys, but he looked up over this ditch, and WHAM - bullet hit him right in the head. He died instantly. I was right there when he died."
In what has become typical during such interviews, Jerry shared with me stories and insight that is utterly incomparable to the lifestyle of today. What is most shocking is that we are not that far-removed from the American Great Depression, or World War II. There are many active citizens in our community who lived during this time, and who remember it well. Certainly by today's standards, the 1930s and 1940s were exceptionally tough decades, both economically for those at home trying to raise a family, and psychologically for those involved directly in the war effort. But, it is truly inspiring to talk to people like Jerry, "Uncle" Bill Grinnell, Daryl, Marie, Ken, Carol, and Alma. Their stories point out the irrevocable fact that, as citizens of the United States, we have exceptionally little to complain about.
Jerry was born in 1923, in Martintown. His dad owned his own grocery, and as Jerry puts it, "My mother was going to school in Monroe, then my dad talked her into getting married and helping him with his grocery store." As a testament to how times have changed, Jerry pointed out that in regard to a birth, "[The mother] just stayed at home; there weren't any hospitals like there is today."
Growing up in Martintown, Jerry maintained a close relationship to his brother, Ike, a closeness that would continue throughout World War II. At the time of Jerry's childhood, Martintown boasted a cheese factory, grocery, blacksmith shop and a garage. There also was a casket maker, says Jerry: "This casket maker had a casket already made for somebody who had ordered it, and the (casket maker's) son drowned in the Pecatonica River, so he had to use this casket he had all made up for his own son. I believe the foundation for that casket shop is still there."
In 1930, when Jerry was halfway through the first grade, his dad bought a grocery in Winslow. Even as young children, Jerry and Ike showed an incredible talent for engineering:
"We were always making things, my brother and I; we were always building something. ... When we were kids we had a train track made out of wood, and the train cars that were on it were made out of lettuce crates and stuff that my dad got groceries in - everything came in boxes in those days. Then we made a Ferris wheel that really worked. We had two grape boxes for seats, hung by just quarter-inch bolts. It's funny we never got hurt on those darn things! Those were all things we built in the back of the store. The salesmen got a big kick out of us kids making things, and as soon as they'd come in the store to get an order for fruit or groceries, they'd run right out the store and through the back door to see what we were doing! One salesman, a cookie salesman, took us to the lumberyard and bought us two nice long boards, just because he liked us kids making things."
This was at a time when three pounds of bananas cost 21 cents, and the "old-timers" would sit on a bench out front and smoke cigars, visiting with each other. Three cans of pipe tobacco could be purchased for a quarter - normally they were 10 cents each. To help his father, Jerry would "candle" eggs in the back room (Candling an egg means holding it to a light, checking for spots which indicate spoilage). Folks, consider this the next time you go to the store to buy groceries:
"When I was 10 or 12 years old I'd help my dad. The farmers would come in with a 12-dozen case of eggs. I'd candle (the eggs) in the back room while my dad took the order to see who owed who. If the farmers had more "egg credit" than the groceries, then dad would give them cash. If they owed more for groceries than the eggs brought, the farmers would pay the difference. Dad gave a lot of credit to people in those days. Mostly, my life was in the grocery store until I went in the service on Feb. 16, 1943, Washington's Birthday. My brother and I went together - I was drafted and he knew he was going to be drafted soon so he enlisted and went with me."
Jerry's closeness to his brother and their combined talent for engineering would serve them well in the ensuing years. Before we reconvene next week, I have to ask one question: How many of you, before reading this article, knew when Washington's Birthday was?
- Dan Wegmueller is a columnist for The Monroe Times. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
Jerry showed me his calendar, every square of which was dominated by an appointment.
I joked, "Your schedule is fuller than mine - where do you find time for all that?!"
For a few moments we talked about Jerry's musical commitments. Then, in absolute contrast, he pointed out a black and white article: "[This man] was killed on Ie Shima and I was about 100 feet from him when he fell down and died. There were some other officers here and us guys, but he looked up over this ditch, and WHAM - bullet hit him right in the head. He died instantly. I was right there when he died."
In what has become typical during such interviews, Jerry shared with me stories and insight that is utterly incomparable to the lifestyle of today. What is most shocking is that we are not that far-removed from the American Great Depression, or World War II. There are many active citizens in our community who lived during this time, and who remember it well. Certainly by today's standards, the 1930s and 1940s were exceptionally tough decades, both economically for those at home trying to raise a family, and psychologically for those involved directly in the war effort. But, it is truly inspiring to talk to people like Jerry, "Uncle" Bill Grinnell, Daryl, Marie, Ken, Carol, and Alma. Their stories point out the irrevocable fact that, as citizens of the United States, we have exceptionally little to complain about.
Jerry was born in 1923, in Martintown. His dad owned his own grocery, and as Jerry puts it, "My mother was going to school in Monroe, then my dad talked her into getting married and helping him with his grocery store." As a testament to how times have changed, Jerry pointed out that in regard to a birth, "[The mother] just stayed at home; there weren't any hospitals like there is today."
Growing up in Martintown, Jerry maintained a close relationship to his brother, Ike, a closeness that would continue throughout World War II. At the time of Jerry's childhood, Martintown boasted a cheese factory, grocery, blacksmith shop and a garage. There also was a casket maker, says Jerry: "This casket maker had a casket already made for somebody who had ordered it, and the (casket maker's) son drowned in the Pecatonica River, so he had to use this casket he had all made up for his own son. I believe the foundation for that casket shop is still there."
In 1930, when Jerry was halfway through the first grade, his dad bought a grocery in Winslow. Even as young children, Jerry and Ike showed an incredible talent for engineering:
"We were always making things, my brother and I; we were always building something. ... When we were kids we had a train track made out of wood, and the train cars that were on it were made out of lettuce crates and stuff that my dad got groceries in - everything came in boxes in those days. Then we made a Ferris wheel that really worked. We had two grape boxes for seats, hung by just quarter-inch bolts. It's funny we never got hurt on those darn things! Those were all things we built in the back of the store. The salesmen got a big kick out of us kids making things, and as soon as they'd come in the store to get an order for fruit or groceries, they'd run right out the store and through the back door to see what we were doing! One salesman, a cookie salesman, took us to the lumberyard and bought us two nice long boards, just because he liked us kids making things."
This was at a time when three pounds of bananas cost 21 cents, and the "old-timers" would sit on a bench out front and smoke cigars, visiting with each other. Three cans of pipe tobacco could be purchased for a quarter - normally they were 10 cents each. To help his father, Jerry would "candle" eggs in the back room (Candling an egg means holding it to a light, checking for spots which indicate spoilage). Folks, consider this the next time you go to the store to buy groceries:
"When I was 10 or 12 years old I'd help my dad. The farmers would come in with a 12-dozen case of eggs. I'd candle (the eggs) in the back room while my dad took the order to see who owed who. If the farmers had more "egg credit" than the groceries, then dad would give them cash. If they owed more for groceries than the eggs brought, the farmers would pay the difference. Dad gave a lot of credit to people in those days. Mostly, my life was in the grocery store until I went in the service on Feb. 16, 1943, Washington's Birthday. My brother and I went together - I was drafted and he knew he was going to be drafted soon so he enlisted and went with me."
Jerry's closeness to his brother and their combined talent for engineering would serve them well in the ensuing years. Before we reconvene next week, I have to ask one question: How many of you, before reading this article, knew when Washington's Birthday was?
- Dan Wegmueller is a columnist for The Monroe Times. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
