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I like this video! I began my sojourn on the planet nine months before the 1940s started …

Drove several of the autos shown here, too, beginning in 1955.

The Decade of the 1940s

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.

I enjoyed that. I was born in the middle of that decade, so I don't really remember it much. In cars, my family skipped from the thirties to the fifties and never owned a forties model.

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David L (CA)
"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.” - Groucho Marx

David, I remember bits and pieces from about 1943 to 1945, then quite a bit after that. Very strange the things that have stayed with me. My earlier memories include an older neighbor kid jumping off a retaining wall onto my tin toy automobile and smashing it flat. That was our first house, next to Memorial Park cemetery. Also remember accompanying dad to the Missouri river around that time, goose hunting. I thought I was going to freeze to death! This was prior to 1944 because that's when dad joined the Seabees.

I also remember breaking my arm during the time dad was overseas and my sister and I were living with our paternal grandparents. I had just seen a movie about paratroopers jumping from a plane. I remembered them clipping the chute opener to the line above the door before jumping. I didn't have a chute or an opener but I DID have a porch rail and a nail apron so I tied the nail apron to the porch post, stood on the railing and jumped!

Apparently, I tied the apron on too well and was too light to break it because it held tight and swung me into the post. That was the first of several broken bones I have sustained over my lifetime.

The second half of the decade I remember quite well. I especially remember how my grandma cried when the news of FDR's death was announced.



I wrecked my grandpa's '49 Ford as a new driver. Hit a rough railroad crossing, lost control and rolled it several times. All I got out of it was a cut on my back. Interestingly, as I lie there in the car that ended up in the ditch on it's roof, the first two things I noticed was that the dome light was on and the radio was playing, two things that didn't work before the wreck!

When my wife's granddad died in 1960, we got his '49 Chevy, which had less than 20,000 miles on it. Unfortunately, it had seldom been driven on the highway and didn't last too long as my work car, what with 55 mph miles I put on it.

I also drove my dad's '49 Chevy pickup when I worked for him in the late '50s through the early 60s.

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.

Jim,

The car of 1948.

http://www.youfixittube.com/watch?v=CvPq7nGq9C8

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James Daly

"It is the Lord." (Jn 21:7)

Jim,

I love the accompanying music, puts you right in the 40s. It is Glenn Miller's Tuxedo Junction, am I right?

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Ian DC
Blessed Ever Virgin Mary -- Sanctuary and resting-place of the Blessed Trinity where God dwells in greater and more divine splendour than anywhere else in the universe

Ian,

There were several pieces of music, including Tuxedo Junction. There is a list at the end of the video.

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David L (CA)
"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.” - Groucho Marx

That 46 Chevy looks like my first car. I bought it for $50 in 1955,

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- Joe Kelley

Death is only a shadow across the path to Heaven.

Joe, my first car was a gun-metal-blue '49 Ford coupé with blue-dot taillights. It was also in '55 that I bought it.

I don't remember what I paid for it but when I tore the transmission up, my dad warned me that it wasn't to set in front of the house inoperative.

Unfortunately, I wasn't then nor am now much of an auto mechanic and I didn't have the $20 required for the repairs. After a couple of weeks, I came home from high school one day and the car was gone!

Dad sold it to a junkyard. I don't know what he got for it but he said it was close enough to cover the storage fee for leaving in front of the house that I didn't owe him anything!

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.

Thanks, David. I'm a fan of Glenn Miller.

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Ian DC
Blessed Ever Virgin Mary -- Sanctuary and resting-place of the Blessed Trinity where God dwells in greater and more divine splendour than anywhere else in the universe

Miller was amazingly popular and influential, especially considering that he only led his band for three-and-a-half years before enlisting in the Army. He died (disappeared) the same year I was born.

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David L (CA)
"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.” - Groucho Marx

Thanks Jim for unleashing a host of childhood memories.

I am 1933 vintage, so was awaiting my seventh birthday when the 40s dawned. Living in London, it was also the beginning of the second year of WW2 and in the June of that year as France fell, I was evacuated for the second time, this time to Cornwall. Sadly there was an RAF base two miles from the village and Herman Goering decided to attack RAF bases, so I came back to London, just in time for the "Blitz"

In 1941 now being 7 years of age I made my First Communion on March 17. Well our PP was Irish! I started serving daily Mass and I suspect it was thought I had a vocation, because in 1944 I passed a scholarship to a Jesuit college. In 1947 I became a forties teenager and remembered Pee Wee Hunt's "Twelfth Street Rag" as a tune I ruined the feet of many a young lady who belonged to our Catholic Youth Club attempting to learn the "quickstep"

Britain was still "broke" as a result of the war. 1947 winter was so bad that the BBC curtailed the hours it broadcast to save on the use of electricity. Everything was still rationed including petrol, so cars were things one dreamed about. TV did resume around this time, having been stopped during the war years, but no TV in my family until the early 1950s.

I started work in 1949 at Lloyd's of London on the princely salary of 150 pounds sterling per annum( it would not pay the bus fare from where I lived today).

Despite the war, the forties were good years and though mine were probably very different from those of an American teenager of comparable age, I would not change mine for theirs.

The vocation that was thought possible in 1944, never eventuated. Blame "Pee Wee Hunt for that"

Of course 2013 will be the year I get my OBE, I'll leave you to work that out.

Thanks again for the memory jerker

Peter

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"Lord to whom shall I go? Thou hast the words of eternal life"

You are quite welcome, Peter … Some of these scenes made these old eye glisten a bit, too!


You were of the ripe old age of six, then, when I entered into this world. Thank God, I was safely ensconced in the midwest USA and the worst trauma I experienced was watching my Dad fly away to Algiers as a Seabee to supervise German POWs build military installations and, worse, witness my parent's divorce, caused in part by that horrible global conflict that separated a young, vulnerable married couple.


That's when we got our first TV — sometime in the early '50s. My earliest memory of TV was a few years earlier standing with the crowd outside a department store window in the cold, watching a tiny black & white screen while awaiting a ride home from the movies.

My Dad's first cousin and best friend, Sam, lived about ten miles from us and had the first TV among our friends and family. Friday nights were spent at Sam & Julie's house, watching the Friday Night Fights on the "Gillette Cavalcade of Sports". It was a six-inch or so square screen. Sam would turn all the light out and we'd sit there in the dark watching these tiny figures flit about. With a good imagination, you could see them as human beings. For those who are too young to have experienced this, you can create a eerily similar scene by going out on a warm summer's eve just after sunset, turn on a 6-volt flashlight and watch the bugs flit through the beam!


My memories of rationing were in the last years of the war. It had been advertised that the local A & P grocery was going to have bread again for one day, at a specified time — one loaf per family. Grandpa and Grandma piled my younger sister and I in their '39 Chevy and off we went! Grandpa gave Judy and I each a $1 and instructed us to get our loaf of bread, then each get into a different checkout line.

People were milling around the store and the excitement was palpable. Finally, a voice from the back of the store shouted "I have bread back here, people!"

There was a stampede! I was about six and my sister was 18-months younger and it was a wonder we didn't get trampled.

Of course, nobody was fooled that small children were purchasing the one-loaf-per-family but there were many kids with money in all the checkout lanes and no one was questioned about it.

I've since often wondered about the ethics of that but at the time, the only concern was obtaining enough bread to last until the next batch became available.


My first 'paying' job — did a lot of jobs for "rent and found" at the behest of my father before that — was for a neighbor driving a tractor as he and his son piled hay on the wagon. Salary wasn't discussed beforehand but at the end of five days, when the work was concluded, he handed me a five-dollar bill. So I earned $5 plus daily lunch that week! Lunch consisted of prepared plates with no choice of entree. The plate was set in front of us, we ate what was on it, then immediately went back to work.

But that was first $5 bill I had ever owned and I rode my bike the four miles back home with it gripped in my hand. It was warm and I was afraid that if I put it in my pocket, it would get all soggy … and with the local Saturday Matinee being 25¢, I could have a nickel coke and a 10¢ bag of popcorn twelve times with that week's wages!


Well, I'm not sure what OBE represents but I suspect it has something to do with the birthday I will, by the Grace of God, celebrate in 2019!

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.

Order of the British Empire?

or, maybe...

Octogenarian of the British Empire?

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Rob

In Maine flour was rationed but whole wheat was available to the farm for cattle feed. The farmers quickly learned to grind the wheat, mix it half and half with white flour to make a substantial bread.

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- Joe Kelley

Death is only a shadow across the path to Heaven.

I came along well after the 1940s, so I have no stories of my own from then. I can pass along a couple of my parents' stories, though.

My father was born in NYC in 1927, raised in Garden City (a suburb on Long Island).

His parents were immigrants from Ireland. Grandpa was a WWI vet, had done some bartending, some other labor & trades. Grandma had worked as a domestic - lady's maid to a wonderful old lady, matriarch (I suppose) of a family of good standing. They had an opportunity to move out of the city to a better environment for their family, and so they did. Grandpa started as a custodian at a school there in or near Garden City, eventually moving to the Post Office, where he was both a custodian and a clerk (had to pull some double shifts in the war years). Grandma was occupied mostly as housewife and mother, but also worked as a laundress for the parish convent. She was also occasionally called-for by her old employer - if the good lady was at her wits' end about something (misplaced some piece of jewelry, perhaps), only Grandma could set her mind at ease and find it. Grandma was also the only one the good lady would trust with delicate personal tasks, like shopping for undergarments. With the birth of each of their four children, a pilgrimage had to be made to the City to present the new baby for her approval.

Through the WWII years, I believe the NYC subway fare was frozen at 5 cents. I'll have to dig around sometime and find the list we wrote once - Dad went down memory lane and listed every car he or his father ever owned, starting with Grandpa's 1929 Model A (acquired used some years later, I believe).

Dad went to Brooklyn Cathedral High School (back when it was still in Brooklyn), commuting via the Long Island Railroad. His first jobs were in his teens - I forget if he had a paper route. He worked in a drugstore with a sandwich counter/ice cream/soda fountain. He also worked for... I think it was NYC Board of Education - as a day camp counselor for some summer program in the City Parks.

They were very involved in the Church and the local parish - St. Joseph's. Dad and other neighbor boys were altar boys. Grandma worked for the convent. Two of Dad's sisters ended up joining that Order - the SSNDs.

Dad was just young enough that the war ended before he was of draft age (he turned 18 shortly before VJ Day). He had all the awareness of someone his age on the home front would, of course, and with family serving besides. His brother-in-law, uncle, and a couple of older cousins were all on active duty then.

One of his favorite service stories to tell is of when Grandma's younger brother came to visit at their house at some point after having completed Basic training. Grandpa was quizzing him on drills and such. Dad recalls being both impressed and amused as the two men grabbed Grandma's brooms from the cupboard to serve as arms, pushed aside all the living-room furniture, and did all the drills, motions, postures, etc... there on the rug - Grandpa doing them all as flawlessly as if he'd been on a parade ground the day before, not 25 years after his service.

They lived in a series of rented apartments and houses through the 20s, 30s and early 40s - really over two decades of married life before they owned a place of their own. Dad came home one day in the mid-40s to find Grandma with news. A house in their row of duplexes and attached houses was coming up for sale and might get snatched up quickly. They were interested, but one problem - Grandpa was out on business in the City somewhere, and it would be hours before he returned (no cellphones and pagers back then, no sir!). Fortunately, it had been payday for Dad's camp job, and I guess he had some money in his dresser, as well. He put down $20 ($20! - God be with the day!) as a binder to hold it until Grandpa got home and he and Grandma could talk to the bank.

Dad did his undergraduate degree at Cathedral seminary, but came to the conclusion that pursuing the priesthood was not for him. So, as the 40s drew to a close, he was about to embark on his adult working life as he positioned himself for likely military service. I'd tell you more, but that'll have to wait for the 1950s thread!


Mom was born in rural Ireland in 1934. Her father was a contractor and a bit of a jack-of-all-trades. They'd go back and forth a lot between the town of her birth and her mother's family back on the home farm. Nobody has ever said, "oh, we were poor" or "poverty", but I get the impression there wasn't much to spare on luxuries.

On the farm, the postman wouldn't come up the back quarry road that led to the farm's lane - he and his bicycle stayed down on the better road. It was one of Mom's jobs as a girl to walk down through the fields and pastures to the other road and pick up the post. It wasn't left in anything like a mailbox, mind you - It was put under a rock!

In her adolescence/early teens, she would sometimes have to accompany her mother on shopping expeditions to the nearest market town. That was about 5.5 - 6 kilometers. No cars, no horse and carriage to spare, they didn't own bicycles at that point. The two of them would borrow a neighbor's bike. Yes, one bike. They'd leave the farm, walk to the neighbor's, borrow the bike, Granny would ride ahead as Mom walked, Granny would leave the bike against a hedge at the halfway point & start walking from there, Mom would reach the bike, start riding, and catch up to Granny at town. Repeat going home.

Her father died in '47. Lots of hard times to follow, living where they could afford, going where work could be found, accepting. Mom is oldest of her siblings and a good bit fell to her. She recently reminded me of one story where some neighbor had been out in the country working (poaching, maybe?) and had brought a killed rabbit for them. Granny was sick in bed at that particular time - Mom (maybe 14 then?) put the younger ones to bed and stayed up that night on her first solo exercise in dressing & cooking small game.

Church was important there, too, of course. The parish church was never far away in her small home town. The country church wasn't much further from the post rock at the home farm, and one of her grandfathers helped build the church in the market town. She and her next two siblings had most of their sacraments of initiation in one fell swoop - that's when the Bishop was making the rounds. A good bit of their schooling, particularly things like music tutoring, came from the Church, too. That, of course, led to the time Mom killed the Mother Superior - but that's another story.

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Rob

Loved these anecdotes, Rob. Thanks for sharing!

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.

Officer of the Order of the British Empire.

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James Daly

"It is the Lord." (Jn 21:7)

Jim,

I suspect you have worked out my quirky expat Brit humour. OBE is affectionately known by those of a certain age as meaning "over bl**dy eighty".

In January 1952, having had my eighteenth birthday the previous September( the feast of the Tax Collector), I reported for two years National Service in the Royal Air Force. I received a letter from my sister telling me that a TV had been purchased on hire purchase. It was a Philips TV that used a system of mirrors to produce a large picture without losing the picture quality by seperating the lines. ( A long way from the T.V. screens of today). I think the first time I ever watched it was to view the F.A. Cup Final of 1953, known to many Brits., as the Stanley Matthews Cup Final. I was home on leave at the time (furlough to you).

In closing I should add that even by the time I returned to civilian life in January 1954, some food items were still rationed in Britain. Almost nine years after the end of WW2.

Regards

Peter

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"Lord to whom shall I go? Thou hast the words of eternal life"

Rob,



Was that the second time your mom dressed and cooked game?

I'm enjoying these anecdotes. My mom's story of rationing during the war years was that my Grandma got extra rations of meat (because she was crippled by RA) and my mom had the arduous task of flirting with the A&P grocer for extra stockings. My mother was accepted for training as an army nurse but changed her mind at the last minute as the family could not spare her with her mom sick and her sister just a child.

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Valerie Garcia
vals1990@yahoo.com

"Listen, O my son, to the precepts of thy master, and incline the ear of thy heart, and cheerfully receive and faithfully execute the admonitions of thy loving Father, that by the toil of obedience thou mayest return to Him ....." St. Benedict

Thanks for all of these memories. Even though I was born in 1968, I love the 40s, the history and the fashions and music. When I was in high school I started reading about the Second World War and still have a real interest in it....sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era.

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Andrew McAllister

Respect for the dignity of every innocent human being from conception/fertilization, without exception, without compromise, without apology.

Andrew:

Some 40s Music

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.

No, it was when Mom was a younger girl than that - middle of primary school, maybe.

There was some big event coming up related to their schooling - music recital or school exhibition or something like that.

Mom had a huge case of performance anxiety as the date approached - stomach absolutely in knots. She prayed for Divine Intervention to get her out of having to perform. She walked into the house one afternoon to find her prayers had been answered - event called off! Intervention! Deliverance! Everything was once again right with the world...

...for about as long as it took to hear the next sentence. It had been postponed because Mother Superior had dropped dead!

Well, you can imagine how wracked with guilt she was. Cause and effect in a child's eyes! Want something >> pray for that something to happen >> something happens that causes what you want!

Fortunately, her Daddy was able to ease her stricken conscience.

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Rob

JMJ

I really enjoyed the video, Jim. Thank you!

I was born in 1950, so I can recall when I was 8 0 9 visiting older aunts and uncles and seeing some of the articles from the later 40's.

In the toy section, I remember a really similar sled I used to use! And some of the 40's music was played on certain music stations (my parents' favorite was "Sentimental Journey"---though " In the Mood" by Gleen Miller was definitely in their top ten music list!!

I would love to see a similar video for the 1950's for us slightly younger COL folks!

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Peace.. Mary Jo
They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles (Isiah 40:32)

Here ya go, Mary Jo!

The decade of the 1950s.

I became a teen in '52, reached the age of majority in '57 and married in '59 so the 1950s is at least AS memorable (and maybe even mores) this are the 1940s!

This is a neat website. You can check out any decade you wish from the 1900s to the 1990s

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In Christ,

Jim B

I will consider your position if stated with firm, well-thought-out, quiet reasoning. Hateful diatribe, ad hominem attacks and shouted rhetoric don't impress.