Dallas

Johnnie enjoys a day of fun and adventure.

Links:

1.  Guest Pests – Pete Smith short
2. Sad Sack comics
3. The Blond Sailor by The Andrews Sisters

Spotify songs:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/02U2OAJJSiouQAEzmy4EqW?si=C6ut7UWXTxuzYn6iMIW_3g&pi=rSW-kgCWR1mMr

Please send comments and suggestions to dogtagspaperhearts@gmail.com

Spotify playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/02U2OAJJSiouQAEzmy4EqW?si=Jg8CANxwRVCD6smIny0C4Q&pi=dmQkyBg9Rrqiq

Transcript

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London, Paris, Naples, Cairo, and Manila are all notorious hotspots. Welcome to Dog Tags and Paper Hearts, a chronicle of my grandfather's letters home during his time in the service. I'm your host, Don Friega, and in each episode we'll travel back to a time when swing bands ruled the airwaves, ration books shaped the dinner table, and handwritten letters carried love across oceans. Join me as we uncover the stories, sounds, and surprises of an era defined by courage, change, and a touch of romance. From the battlefront to the home front. On today's episode, Pickup Girls, Having a Wonderful Crime, Pete Smith, and Sad Sack. So pull up a chair, put down that comic book, and let's rewind the clock together. Because the 1940s weren't just about war and worry, they were about hope, humor, and heart. This is Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. A couple of news items from the front on the day this letter was written, February 10th, 1945. In military news, the Yalta Conference continues as President Franklin Roosevelt, Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin continue negotiations for a post-war world. Questions of the occupation of post-war Germany, the future borders of Poland, the establishment of the United Nations, and Stalin's promise to enter the war against Japan once Germany is defeated are all on the table. These conversations will shape Europe for decades to come. Despite these diplomatic talks, American, British, Canadian, and French troops continue their relentless advance into Germany. Following the successful elimination of the Colmar Pocket in France just a day earlier, Allied commanders are now preparing for the next phase of their offensive across the Rhine. Engineers work around the clock, repairing bridges and roads while supply columns struggle through winter weather to keep the advancing armies moving. Across the Pacific, American forces continue their hard-fought battle to liberate Manila. The city has become one of the most destructive urban battlefields of the Pacific War. Japanese troops are refusing to surrender, fighting block by block while civilians find themselves trapped between the opposing forces. Entire neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble, and reports filtering back to the United States describe horrific conditions inside the Philippine Capitol. In the Baltic Sea, one of the deadliest maritime disasters in history has just unfolded. The Soviet submarine S-13 has torpedoed the German transport ship General von Stuben while it attempted to evacuate military personnel and refugees fleeing the advancing Red Army. More than 3,600 people are believed to have perished in the icy waters. Although overshadowed by the larger sinking of the Wilhelm Guslauf just days earlier, it is another devastating reminder of the human cost of Germany's collapsing Eastern Front. Meanwhile, the Imperial Japanese Navy has accomplished something many Allied planners thought impossible. In Operation Keda, two aging battleships and several escort vessels have successfully slipped from Singapore and are making their way back to Japan despite heavy Allied air and submarine patrols. While Japan's Navy no longer has the strength to challenge Allied fleets directly, preserving these ships reflects Tokyo's determination to defend the home islands for as long as possible. Back in the United States, Americans continue balancing optimism with sacrifice. Factories remain on full wartime production, ration books are still part of everyday life, and families anxiously await letters from loved ones overseas. The headlines from Yalta have many wondering what peace might look like, but for millions of servicemen and the families waiting for them, the war is not yet over. Military recruiters continue to remind Americans that victory in Europe may be approaching, but the Pacific War promises to be long and costly. And in other news, today I'm focusing on some of the late news flashes reported by the United Press in the February 10, 1945 issue of Johnny's hometown newspaper, The Royal Oak Tribune. First up, 24 dead in New England blizzard. Now this was the worst blizzard in almost 30 years, affecting thousands of people and closing most residential streets and minor highways. Riots in Berlin and Castle. Reports from London indicated that food riots broke out between civilians and Nazi stormtroops in Castle, one of Germany's largest cities on the Fulda River. A majority of the city's administrative officials and police were reported to have abandoned their posts to face the wrath of the Gestapo and SS rather than the strikers. And finally, in a twist of unforeseen consequences, an article indicating that Michigan's milk supply was being threatened due to the drafting of farmers into the armed service. And now the letter. Saturday, February 10th. My dearest Mary, hello, sweetheart, how are you, darling? Any better than usual? That's good. What have you been doing with yourself lately? Come on, give me the latest dirt. I'm so lonesome for letters from you that I've reread all of your old letters a dozen times. They're just about all worn out from handling. It's been almost two weeks since I've heard from you last, and all the time since then I've pestered the mail clerk until he runs at the sight of me. The only mail I've received here is the reader's digest, and even though it makes for good reading, well, I just can't find anything in it that tells me how you are and what you are doing. This business of waiting for my orders is even worse than going through the training cycle. At least while we were training I could occupy my mind with the problems at hand. But now, even though they do pile on a lot of dirty detail work, it just isn't anything that requires a lot of thinking. And so all I can think of is you, how much I miss you and want you. I can see your face in my mind, and sometimes, without knowing it, I talk to you, and I can almost hear your voice answering me. Some of the fellows say that they've heard me once in a while and they can't understand just who I'm talking to. Maybe they think I'm going a little batty, and I don't think they're far from wrong. Knowing that you are so far from me and not knowing just how soon it will be until I do, why I'm in a torment. I can't do anything right because every time I start a job, all I can see is you, and then I start dreaming again. Luckily for me, we don't handle any weapons because if we did, I would probably be shooting everyone around me and not even know it. So you can see I'm in a bad way. The only thing that can help me is to be with you. In your arms, holding you tightly to me, and never letting you go. I'll never be able to get enough of you, dear. My arms and heart are in a constant ache for you, just like a troubling toothache that keeps reminding you of the pain that is there, and nothing can relieve it but a big, generous dose of you. But that's enough of singing the blues, you've got troubles enough of your own without me adding to your load. How are the kids doing? I got quite a shock the other night. I went up to the service club to play ping pong, and while I was sitting there waiting my turn, a soldier, his wife, and a little girl walked in. I looked once and then took another long look. Do you remember how Sherry looked in that rose spring outfit of hers? Well, this little girl had one very much like it, and with the bonnet framing her face, she looked enough like Sherry to make me think I was actually seeing her. I rose up and started to walk over to her when I realized where I was, but all the time that she was in the room I couldn't take my eyes from her. I guess the couple must have noticed it, because after a little while I saw them looking at me. The fellow leaned over to the little girl and said something, and she turned to look at me. She gave me one of those long stares just like Sherry, and then she smiled. Oh, honey, my heart just came up into my throat and my eyes started to burn. She looked so much like Sherry, dimples and all, that I almost went over to pick her up. I started to rise when one of the boys I was with called me to play. Just then the couple rose and left the room. The little girl turned just as they went out the door, smiled and waved goodbye to me. That did it. I wasn't worth a hoot all evening. I couldn't even talk straight to the fellows. But I guess they knew it was wrong because two of them have kids of their own, and they told me later that the same thing had happened to them. I guess I must have looked pretty foolish for a while, but I just couldn't help it. I was showing the picture of you and the kids to a Hawaiian fellow here. His wife had given him a little girl just three weeks ago. He said he wanted to see what baby girls looked like. He stared at the picture for a while, then walked away without saying anything. About ten minutes later, back he came again. He took another look at the picture and said, I hope my kid is as good looking as yours are. So you see, we're not the only ones who think our brats are the most beautiful in the world. Hello again, sweetheart. Guess what day this is now? Right, Monday evening. Know what I've been doing since Saturday afternoon? Bet you can't guess. Okay, then I'll tell you. I've been up in Dallas, Texas. Yep, been to a big town again, and quite a town it is. I had just started this page when Franks, one of the boys, ran in to tell me that one of our Louis was driving up to Dallas, and if we wanted to go along to hop in. So I rushed back to the barracks, showered and shaved, changed into ODs, and was ready to go. There were seven of us in the car altogether, Franks, Basso, Maglienti, First Sarge, Senks, Stinky, Lieutenant Lee, Leif, Martins, and myself. The Sarge wasn't supposed to be with us, but he pushed his way in uninvited. It is a good one hundred and seventy miles from here to Dallas, and with the car crowded, it was pretty rough. We had one flat tire and at the same time the emergency brake locked, so it made us quite late pulling into town. Around 10 PM, I believe it was. Our first job was to get rid of the Sarge, because he's just an old drunk, and we didn't want to have him hanging on our tail all over town. So we told him to wait for us while we scouted up a place to sleep. Basso has a friend, a master sergeant who was situated here in Dallas, so we went to see him first. Luck was with us. We found him and at the same time a place to sleep, in the Eighth Service Command Barracks. So our worries were over and we went out to eat. All this time Stinky was waiting outside a building for us. I went out and snuck a look to see where he was, and he had bought himself a bottle, so I just left him standing there drinking. After we had eaten, we took a quick look around town to find out the best places to visit on Sunday. We located the USO and a couple of other service clubs and decided to call it a night. We hit the hay about 1.30 AM and slept like logs until 10 AM Sunday, out for breakfast and out to the USO to see what was cooking. Nothing much, they were having a dance at 3 PM, so we decided we'd hit that. Meantime, we walked around town to see what we could see, and that's when the fun started. Remember how we used to talk about soldiers making easy pickups in Detroit? Well, Detroit is a slow town compared to Dallas. We hadn't been on the street for five minutes before a big Buick with two girls in it drove up and beeped the horn. Little did we know Maglaniti, a Hawaiian, stepped over to the car to see what they wanted, and he hadn't said two words to them when he called us over. By then we knew what the score was, and guess you do too. However, I've been faithful to you this long, will continue to be, so I just wished the boys goodbye and started off up the street. But it turned out that the girl's price was too high, so the other three came along too. If you're really curious, the price they quoted us was six bucks, and they furnished the room and all necessary equipment, even drinks if you want them. Well, after that we kept score. Within ten blocks we had six offers from girls with cars and eighteen from common street walkers. So you can see that it is a big business in Dallas. Anything and everything goes. It was noon by then, so we started to look for something to eat. On the way we stopped and bought Valentine's, and I took the opportunity to send you some flowers. I hope you get them all right. We found a good chop suoi joint, so we stopped in there. I had two orders, one shrimp chopped suey and one chicken. With coffee my came to a dollar five. Not bad, eh? After dinner, Maglaniti had hot pants. So on one turn around the block, three offers came up and he took the best one. We other three went over to the USO and sat around waiting for the dance to start. Finally, at three o'clock, about twenty girls came in. Twenty girls! My god, there must have been about five hundred men. That was no place for us, so out we went again. We ended up at the amusement park and spent all afternoon taking in the sideshows, including the victory bell. Woo-hoo! And writing everything they had. We just about broke the owner of the shooting gallery. At least he ran out of clay pigeons and pipes. We had so many dolls and other junk that every time we saw a little boy or girl, we'd make them a present of something or other. We had a lot of fun doing it anyhow. In addition, we took in the roller rink. Oh lady, have I got a sore behind. I hadn't been on the wheels five seconds before I went down, and that went on for about an hour. Of course, after the first fall, we guys were tripping each other, and in general just seeing who could kill who first. I at least held my own. By that time it was dinner time, so we hunted up some steaks, a dollar forty-five, had a couple of beers, and went to a show. Saw having a wonderful crime, phooey. The only good thing about it was a cartoon and a Pete Smith short. It was ten o'clock by that time, and as we had to meet the Louis at 11 p.m., we went over to the hotel where they were booked in. While waiting, we had a couple of sandwiches and a malted milk. What a day. Every time we turned around we ate. The Louis finally came and we started back to our camp at 11.15 p.m. By the way, weekend passes here are only good until 11 p.m. Sunday, which means we have to be back in camp by that time. But we had a break by being with the officers, as Lieutenant Martino was the officer who signs our passes, so we had no worries there. We got back to camp at 4.30 a.m. this morning, had an hour's sleep and were up and going again, but this time on detail. But I'm getting to be a pretty good gold brick. I hunted up a soft place and laid me down and went to sleep. Slept from 10 to 12, woke up for lunch and back to sleep from 1.30 to 3.30, so I didn't mind quote unquote working too much. And finally here it is, 9 p.m. and I'm getting ready to hit the hay. I'm eating your cupcakes and having a swell time. The box came this afternoon, along with two more letters from you and one from Johnny Sheraton. So you see, I hit the jackpot. Now you've got me worried. Those cute sayings must have had some basis. For instance, that milkman business. Hmm, all the more reason for the army to send me home in a hurry. And I'll have to check on that. And two patties, well well, what goes here? It was swell getting all that mail though. It's pepped me up to no end, and I want to tell you that those clippings are super, especially sad sack. I put those up on the day room bulletin board. You have no idea how real to life sad sack is. Almost everyone at some time or other pulls off something that turns out the way it does for him. And I'm sending you a cartoon that Johnny sent me. Maybe the girls at the club will appreciate it. But honey, everything must have an end, and that includes this letter. I've got to take a shower, do a little washing, and in general, straighten up around my bunk. So I'll say goodnight now, my dear. Kiss the kids for me, and keep a great big one for yourself. All my love, Johnny. P.S. I was a bad boy and spent twelve dollars over the weekend, but I still have plenty to get home on. I hope you're not disappointed, because it's the really first good time I've had since coming into this damned hole. Am I forgiven? Love, Johnny. A few notes from today's letter. First, pickup girls. The term pickup girls, as I'm sure you've gleaned from the letter, is simply a euphemism for prostitutes. Prostitution was common in nearly every major city during World War II, and servicemen made up one of the largest groups of customers. However, the image portrayed in movies where every soldier on leave immediately found a prostitute is exaggerated. Most servicemen never reported using prostitutes, but enough did that the U.S. military considered sexually transmitted infections one of its most serious non-combat health threats. The U.S. entered World War II with vivid memories of World War I, when sexually transmitted infections had sidelined thousands of soldiers. During World War II, military leaders launched one of the largest public health campaigns in American history. Their strategy included issuing condoms free of charge, showing educational films warning soldiers about pickup girls, encouraging recreation through USO dances and clubs, establishing prophylactic stations where men could receive preventative treatment after risky encounters, and working with local police to suppress prostitution around military bases. Despite these efforts, prostitution flourished wherever large numbers of young men with steady paychecks gathered. No one knows exactly what percentage of servicemen visited prostitutes because, as you might imagine, many encounters went unreported. Historians generally estimate that roughly 10 to 20% of servicemen probably visited prostitutes at least once during the war. This rate was likely higher in large port cities or overseas. Johnny seems to suggest in his letter that he and his buddies encountered pickup girls everywhere they went in Dallas. I tried to find which major U.S. cities had the highest incidence, and Dallas didn't even make the list. It's not surprising that New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles were on the list. What did surprise me was the presence of Norfolk, Virginia. I hadn't considered this until realizing that this was one of the Navy's busiest ports. Overseas, prostitution was even more common than in the United States. London, Paris, Naples, Cairo, and Manila were all notorious hotspots, and while the military generally discouraged soldiers from using prostitutes, suppression was nearly impossible. In some occupied cities, prostitution became an organized industry catering almost exclusively to Allied servicemen. One interesting distinction in Army publications was between professional prostitutes and what military pamphlets called pickup girls. These were women who met soldiers in bars, danced with servicemen, accepted drinks or meals, and sometimes exchanged sex for gifts, money, rationed goods, or favors. Army films often warned soldiers that these women could be just as likely to transmit sexually transmitted infections. Official policy condemned prostitution, but privately many local governments turned a blind eye to the practice. Why? Well, it generated income. It was considered inevitable, and officials feared that eliminating it would increase sexual assaults or create other policing problems. For a typical American serviceman, encountering prostitution during World War II was easy in almost any major city, especially those with ports, training camps, or transportation hubs. While only a minority of servicemen are believed to have used prostitutes, the practice was common enough that the Army devoted enormous resources to prevention, education, and treatment. Wartime mobility, youth, money, and the concentration of military personnel transformed some cities into particularly active centers of commercial sex, making prostitution a significant social and public health issue throughout the war. Also in today's letter, in his Whirlwind Dallas excursion, Johnny takes in a movie called Having a Wonderful Crime. This was a light, fast-paced mystery released by RKO Pictures in 1945, blending screwball comedy with a classic Who Dun It, offering audiences a welcome escape from the grim wartime headlines. It was directed by A. Edward Sutherland and stars Pat O'Brien, George Murphy, and Carol Landis. The screenplay was adapted from a popular novel by mystery writer Craig Rice, although the film softened much of the novel's wit and complexity into a more straightforward comedy. The story follows Chicago attorney and amateur sleuth Michael J. Malone, who reluctantly accompanies his newly married friends Jake and Helene Justice on their honeymoon. Their trip quickly goes off the rails after they witness the apparent disappearance of a stage magician during his act. What begins as an odd mystery soon becomes a murder investigation, involving suspicious hotel guests, hidden identities, a missing $50,000 check, and plenty of slapstick mishaps. The film moves briskly, packing its twists into a lean 70-minute runtime while never taking itself too seriously. The movie leans into the noir style of rapid-fire dialogue, but combines it with physical comedy and eccentric supporting characters. The chemistry between George Murphy and Carol Landis as the impulsive newlyweds provides much of the humor, while Pat O'Brien serves as the exasperated straight man trying to solve the mystery despite his friends' constant interference. Contemporary reviews were generally polite but unenthusiastic. Critics praised the film's lively pace and agreeable cast, but many felt the mystery itself was thin and relied more on comic antics than clever detective work. The New Yorker, in its April 1945 review, devoted far more attention to other films opening up that week, suggesting having a wonderful crime was pleasant, but ultimately minor entertainment. Johnny's one-word review, fooie, is considerably less kind, and his opinion seems to be on spot as the film was never considered a major hit. It performed respectably, but didn't leave a lasting mark on the box office or popular culture. Unlike the 1934 classic The Thin Man, with which it shares some similarities, it failed to launch a continuing franchise for Craig Rice's detective Michael J. Malone. Still, having a wonderful crime can be seen as a time capsule highlighting the type of lighthearted escapism audiences sought during the final months of World War II. A breezy combination of romance, comedy, and murder mystery that asks viewers to enjoy the ride rather than puzzle over the clues. Also in today's letter, Johnny mentions a Pete Smith short. I'm not sure this is a name that's in the public consciousness anymore, so I wanted to provide some background. Pete Smith was a well known American film producer and narrator, best recognized for his work on MGM's Pete Smith Specialties, a series of one real comedy and observational short films. Born Peter Schmidt in New York City in 1892, he had been in the film industry since the early 1920s, starting as a publicity man and later becoming MGM's head of publicity in 1925. By the mid-1930s, Smith had developed a distinctive style of narration, nasal, wry, and often satirical, which made him a favorite for MGM's short subjects. These films covered everyday situations, from sports to technology to human interest stories, often exaggerating common annoyances or pet peeves. His 1945 short, and the one that Johnny most likely viewed on his Dallas excursion, Guest Pests, is a prime example, poking fun at the obligations of hosts and the advantages guests could take. I've provided a link to this short in the show notes. Imagine the curmudgeonly stylings of 60 Minutes Andy Rooney and You're Not Far Off. In 1945, Smith was still producing and narrating these shorts for MGM, continuing a career that spanned from 1935 to 1955. He had already won two Academy Awards for Best Live Action Short Film in 1938 and 1941, and was nominated for many more. His work was popular with audiences, and his voice became a familiar part of the pre-feature film lineup in U.S. theaters. And finally, Johnny mentions the cartoon Sadsack. This was an American comic strip character created by Sergeant George Baker during World War II and originally published in the first edition of Yank, The Army Weekly. Sadsack is a more delicate shortening of the military slang Sadsack of Shit. And while Sadsack himself is an unnamed private, the character is actually based on a real person, Ben Schnau, a true life private in the U.S. Army during World War II, a member of Yank magazine and a good curmudgeonly friend of Sergeant Baker. The comic itself revolved around Sadsack experiencing some of the absurdities and humiliations of military life. After the war ended, Sadsack ran in newspaper syndication in the United States from May 5, 1945 until 1958. Baker then sold the rights to Harvey Comics, which produced a large number of commercial spinoffs. There's an interesting postscript to this story. In 1951, Harvey Comics published the comic Sadsack Goes Home, meant to encourage soldiers to stay in the armed forces. Its story showed Sadsack leaving the Army for civilian life, only to find it too difficult. Stores charge too much for goods, and a janitorial job treats Sadsack badly. When Republican Senator Homer E. Capehart complained that Sadsack Goes Home amounted to socialism, by demonizing the business world, army units were forced to destroy much of the press run. The top song in the U.S. on this date, February 10th, 1945, remains Don't Fence Me In by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters. Since I've shifted to counting down the 100 most popular songs of 1945, we now arrive at number 89, The Blonde Sailor by the Andrews Sisters. The Blonde Sailor is a fairly simple novelty song meant to capture the playful, patriotic spirit that made the trio America's favorite female vocal group during the closing months of World War II. The song tells the story of a handsome blonde sailor whose good looks and naval uniform make him irresistible wherever he goes. Rather than focusing on the hardships of war, the lyrics celebrate the romantic excitement that surrounded servicemen on leave. The tune is bright and upbeat and features the sisters' trademark three-part harmonies backed by a light big band arrangement. Sailors occupied a special place in the American imagination during the war, newsreels frequently featured smiling Navy crews returning from sea, and the distinctive White Navy uniform had become an icon of youthful heroism. The song taps into that image, presenting the sailor as both a romantic figure and a symbol of the millions of young Americans serving overseas. Although the Blonde Sailor received radio play and appeared on Andrew Sisters' compilations, it was never one of the group's major chart successes. In 1945, it was overshadowed by much bigger hits, including Rum and Coca-Cola, which dominated the charts and became one of the defining songs of the year. Today the song is appreciated primarily by collectors of wartime music and fans of the Andrew Sisters. It serves as a time capsule of the final months of World War II, when Americans were beginning to glimpse victory but still relied on music to lift spirits and celebrate the men and women in uniform. This song is not available on Spotify, so instead of putting it on my playlist, I've provided a link to a YouTube recording in the show notes. Thank you for listening to Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. You can find links to information contained within this episode in the show notes. I've also provided a link to my Spotify playlist of number one songs during the course of this correspondence. That playlist is also titled Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. Please keep the feedback coming by emailing me at Dog Tagspaperhearts at gmail.com. And most importantly, if you have a story from World War II that you're willing to share on this podcast, or even a story that's World War II adjacent, please drop me a line and we can make that happen. Until next time, I'm not sure what I'm saying.