What's the Pitch? What Gives?

Frank Von Arx

Frank Gartz's first letter from a pal.

Fun Lingo from the 1940s crops up throughout this very first letter written to my Uncle Ebner BEFORE he was even drafted. That's because his best buddy, Frank Von Arx, had already been inducted into the military the previous December (1942). Here Von Arx chides Frank Ebner Gartz for not writing to him. (Seems the pattern started early, but won't last for long!)

 Its lighthearted scolding and teasing tone, tell us a lot about these two young men and the friendship they shared. Sounds like Ebner was pretty hard to pin down, always on the go. Frank VA is is doing his best to wheedle a letter out of his buddy, Gartz, still in Chicago. Von Arx is already demonstrating his scribe skills which will eventually land him in journalism.

I chose not to post it on the date it was written because that was before Ebner's induction, and I started this thread on that date, 1/23. Here it is now.

January 7, 1943

Dear Frank,

Boy are you in for it now. All you better hope is that we get called out to the drill field before I get started here.

To make myself perfectly plain to you I will put it this way–––
What the hell goes on in Chicago?
Yes, that is what I said. What’s the pitch? What gives?

Here is the situation. Two old pals who knew each other for practically all their lives are separated by a cruel stroke of fate. They bid tearful goodbyes and make stout promises to send a good word as often as possible.  So here is what happens.

The galoot who stays home [my uncle] send the track-maker one high-class letter on stolen stationery and then promptly leaves his poor lost pal in the lurch, alone in the world to tear out his hair and beat out his brains trying to guess what possibly could have happened at home.

Now to make it all the worse, you must consider the one pal who made his goodbyes at home. If he were an ordinary guy, one could just about guess what makes at home, BUT this guys is different. Never try to guess what he is going to do or is doing. You just can’t do it! I know I tried. And that makes all the worst, anything could be happening and this poor pal would never know it. Oh Dear!

Gartz, are you lucky there are five states separating us (or are there? I wouldn’t be too sure of even that ?) or else I would make it tough on you.

(Pause of approximately 5 hours)

So, as I said, What goes on in Chicago? Especially around Keeler and Madison [where Gartz family lived], even though you aren’t at home long enough to get a good night’s sleep at least try to write a letter saying--”Dear Frank, Am feeling ok -- or am not feeling okay, whichever the case may be.

Get the idea?

Now I know this isn’t a very good way to talk to a guy’s best friend, but then I haven’t bawled anybody out for a long time so it might as well be you. You at least, have sense enough not to listen.

I forget when I last wrote you so therefore, I cannot tell you an accurate account of all the heroic deeds I have performed down here in Florida. In fact, just for punishment for not writing, I think I shan't tell you any of them all. So there!

We are now in our third day of Basic Training (15 more to go). This morning we started drilling at 7:45 am, although we had been up since 4:45, and kept at it until 8:30 when we wit and got a lecture on battlefield first aid. At 10am we went to P.T. (Physical Trn.) and got a dose of exercise and a couple of simple lessons on breaking a choking grip or likewise. Now it is 12 noon and we are in our barracks waiting a call for chow.

This afternoon I suppose we will get more drilling and then an hour of P.T. Before we go off duty at 5pm. For the afternoon P.T. We can put on our swim suits and take the exercises on the beach, after which we all take a nice swim. It really is nice in ocean water despite the salt. You can’t swim much but the waves sure knock you around a lot.

There are several basketball outdoor courts, tennis court, volleyball and baseball fields which we get to use in our spare time. I hope to get quite a tan before we get sent to school.

Which reminds me, did I tell you that they have classified me for either metal worker or armorer mechanic schools? That is just what I wanted. I want to get this in the mail at chow time so I am going to close now. Just want to let you know everything is all right -- except for a couple of tired bones -- and I can’t kick on a thin--except your mail.

Say hello to your mother, father, and brothers for me.

Your Pal,
Frank

Mom bubbles over with joy to hear from you

The Gartz Boys. Left to right, Fred (my Dad) Will, the
oldest, and Frank "Ebner." My grandma did a bit of
magic by cutting in Frank's grad photo ten years after
the photo of Fred and Will was taken.

My father (left above) wrote to Frank, who was his best buddy as well as kid brother. Ten years older than Frank/Ebner, my dad had changed Frank's diapers as a baby, fed him, and entertained him with walks to the park when his Mom was busy working on the apartment buildings his parents maintained and the never-ending housework of era. 

Feb. 21- 23 1943

The grad photo of Ebner that his mother
flanked with "two green lights"
(see letter for details)Dear Ebner: ––

First and foremost forgive my lateness in writing. It was more than once that I sat down to write but then sleep overtook me as usual or we were interrupted etc. etc.
However I finally finished one letter in German and was about to mail it when I heard that you believe that it might not be good for you.

My idea in so writing was to keep you from being completely out of touch with German, for after all, you might still some day find need of it and practice makes perfect. Well enough of that. I hope that you are in good spirits and in good health, and that “Soldaten Leben” [military life] agrees with you. If I were you I shouldn’t gripe too much about desk work for you will get enough of activity later on.

At any rate this will probably give you some inside information and idea how an army runs which should broaden your viewpoint when you return to “active service.” I am very happy to hear that you have been given some responsibility. This is well; make yourself worthy of it. Have you started any of your radio work as yet? I think that you are in an excellent field for radio has an excellent future. I don’t have any of your letters here so that I can’t comment on your various statements as I would want to. You know “shrimp” every time Mom got word from you, she would call me either at home or at work and bubble over with joy about it. We all miss you but mom of course, as you know her, makes the most of it.

Your dresser must remain “as is” or rather, as was, with all of your paraphernalia in its respective place. Furthermore, and this is quite faithful of her, she has flanked your graduation picture on the front room radio with those two small green nite lamps from the bedroom and at sundown the lamps are lit and remain lit until sunrise.

Yesterday (2-20-43) Lil and I and Kenny and Arlyene went to the Schiller Liedertafel at the Germania Club. We had a good time and believe it or not, we left at two o’clock. At every other Liedertafel affair we never left before 4:30 or 5:00. Of course it was packed. This was a summer formal, their annual February concert. We missed most of their singing, but what we did hear was grand. I got an application to join. It might give me some much needed practice which I’ve missed since choir days.

Also there is now a new field of some new songs. Next Saturday the Rheinischer Singverein von Chicago [Rhein singing group from Chicago] is giving a Masquerade at the Lincoln Turner Hall. Lil and I are planning to go. As no doubt you know these affairs are loads of fun and in a most congenial atmosphere. 

Mrs. Von Arx’s mother died during the past week [see Mrs. Von Arx’s letter of 2/8/43] and the folks went to pay last respects. Dad got the Pastor and Mrs. Kaitschuk into such a laughing fit at the wake with some of his stories that they had tears in their eyes. Same old Pop.

Marvin Newman from church was also drafted and is at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin. Also Jack Magnuson was given a 12 hr notice to be ready to leave and for the present he is stationed at Loyola University and he flied at Palwaukee Airport.

Lil and I stopped off at Mrs. Grac’s today to deliver to her her pictures of the wedding, and we exchanged quite a number of stories.

Feb 23, ’43

Well here it’s Tuesday nite and I still haven’t mailed this letter. As you can see by the handwriting above, I was beginning to doze, as usual. Today I was 13 1/2 hours at work so there is little time left for all those things which one wants to do and has to do such as income tax returns, etc.

Tomorrow is registration for canned and processed food rationing. Well here at last is the method that will shorten my waist line.

The days since Sunday have been very springlike so at noon, “Steve, Katz Grazt & Borkin” go out to play ball. We roll up some fluffy packing material into a ball (or close facsimile) about 3” - 4” in diameter and use a parked car for a net and play volley ball. I know it’s screwy, but it’s fun, fast, and exciting.

Both brights and dims are out on Blitzbuggy [took Ebner to draft board 1/23/43]. They went out all at once while driving the other day. Essy [The Essex car my mother drove to her job with the Bayer Company at Chicago’s Wrigley Building]. Had a bit of misfortune. She had a rip about 3 inches long in her roof at the front end. That night there was a stiff wind from the west and in the morning the covering of Essy’s roof was hanging over her rear. Until we get it fixed, scotch tape is keeping her together. So I’ll have something left to say in the following letters I stop this one now. Take care of yourself and when you get time, drop us a line.

Auf Wiedersehen,

Love, Sam [Fred]

(Like Ebner, the family usually called my Dad, by his middle name, Sam).

Money all gone

In Frank's letter to his Mom, below, he refers to "boilers." These were the furnaces in the many buildings my grandparents cared for. In this era, and for many years afterwards, they burned coal, requiring lots of coal shoveling when the weather was very cold, often several times a day, even overnight. They could be finicky and required a good deal of attention. 

Ebner gives a detailed description of Keesler Field, MI, where he's stationed. He even includes a drawing of his barracks) 

2-18-43

Dear Mom:

How is everything at home? Please don’t work too hard on those boilers. I still want to see you standing up if I ever get home. Your letters get here in about 2 days and packages take a day longer.I have been writing you every other day or so. I don’t know why my letters haven’t been reaching you. Today I received the package from Powers and I want to thank you for sending me those cookies; they were delicious. The Mississippi miserys are almost over for the time being. [The "Mississippi Miserys" is apparently some illness the boys came down with at Keesler].

I’m waiting for that picture [of Cookie, his girlfriend] impatiently. I wish the time was up to collect that $5.00 from Lillian because my money went too fast down here. I bought a garrison hat last Saturday which cost me $5.00 with the pin and rain cover and seven arm insignia at 15 cents apiece. I bought more shoe polish and an almanac which cost me 98 cents. Now all my money is gone. I was shopping for the boys who couldn’t leave camp and I over ran my money so I owe three dollars to one of the fellows. He trusts me but I hate to owe anyone money.

[Note: Lil and Frank made a bet about Fred or Frank losing more weight, and Frank, apparently is winning. See 2/15/43 letters]

There is a nice U.S.O. down here, but I didn’t stay long because I wanted to see the town. Then I started drinking, first Boilermakers and ended with Tom Collins. It was my first drink since I left Chicago and it tasted good. They have military beer in camp but the stuff isn’t even 3.2.

Thank [Fred] for changing his letter just for my sake. [Fred, my dad, had written a letter in German but after Ebner's request to send no letters in German, Fred rewrote it in English. This letter is coming up soon]. I really appreciate it. As I told you in my last letter, I have received that $20.00, but I haven’t a cent left. If you could send me $10.00 soon I could really use it.

John Hetzel and I have been together ever since Camp Grant and are still very near. I owed him seven dollars before I received your money order and promptly paid him in full.

I’ll give you a detailed description of Keesler Field. It’s about a mile away from Back Bay on the Gulf of Mexico near Biloxi, Mississippi. In fact it’s on the outskirts of town. The terrain is sandy and the roads built in camp are based with clam shells. We live in huts which house a maximum of 28 men at the present time. See diagram on the back of this sheet.

The weather down here is mild. At night it’s cold and during the day it’s warm, but not hot yet. The last three days the moon has been so bright that you don’t need a flash light any more. It even casts a shadow. I must close now but I want to ask one more favor.

Please send my camera in a well protected case for the mail is mistreated something awful. The cookies were broken but most of them were in good shape. The boys down here are talking about girls and it takes concentration to keep on the beam. Please protect my camera well and send my equipment with it.

I must close now but I’m very happy here and I’m fighting a clean battle for leadership. In about 10 or 12 days I hope to get shipped to Chicago? If so, I’m going to show the boys that come with me some Northern hospitality. I must close now so goodnight. It’s 10:45 now and I must turn in so till I write again I’m just

Your Loving Son,

Frank

P.S. I’m going to send my watch home soon. You can tell [Fred] that it’s losing time one day and keeping it another. I can’t figure it out. Still, Frank.

Below is the original letter and the drawing Frank sent along of his bunk house, "hut."

A World War II Draftee––70 Years ago

Blitzbuggy at the Draft Office, Chicago, 1/23/1943

Seventy years ago today, my grandparents and newly married parents faced a foreboding task, one that was shared by just about everyone in America with a  young man of draft age in the family.

On January 23, 1943, they climbed into Dad's Model A Ford and drove the five blocks from their home down Chicago's Washington Boulevard to the draft office, where my Dad's ten-year younger brother, Frank Ebner Gartz, would officially report to begin the training to become a navigator for the Army Air Corps in World War II.

Gartz Family, January 16, 1943 L-R top Fred (Dad), 
Will, Ebner. Seated: Lil (Mom), Josef, & Lisi Gartz

The photo to the right is the first "Gartz Family Photo" that includes my mother. Taken just two months after my parents married, and one week before Ebner was drafted, my guess is that my grandmother wanted a family picture with the "new Mrs. Gartz" as part of the family before her youngest son left for training. 

I know the dates of both  photos because each was labeled, but the car photo had more than a date. Coming upon it, I saw only an unremarkable old car parked on a snowy street, with no identifiable people. But it was on the back where I learned the critical event this photo documented.

Prior to finding the photo of the car, Blitzbuggy had only existed in family lore. My father had probably told us what vintage the dear little car was, but it hadn’t stuck in my memory. Dad’s notes not only identified the car--its year, model, and make--but also recorded the contribution Blitzbuggy had made to one of the pivotal events of the 20th Century -- and our family’s connection to it. 

Here are his exact words--in italics (my comments are in brackets. Parentheses are his):

January 23, 1943

Ebner’s drafting. Saying farewell. Grandma [Dad's mother] in Blitzbuggy (1929 Model A Ford). Lil [my mother] on right side. [Only the back of her coat and hair are visible.]

In front of the Draft board
4748 W. Washington Blvd. Chicago, Ill 

Frank Ebner, (ABE-ner) Gartz, born May 14, 1924, was  my grandparents’ youngest son. His middle name was taken from my grandmother, Lisi’s, maiden name, one you’ve read in numerous past posts.

The photo reveals a familiar Chicago winter scene: the snow is piled on the sidewalks, and greystone apartment buildings, typical of the city, form a backdrop. The entire atmosphere of the photo--its blurry focus, the gloomy, colorless weather, the faces of the two women in the photo hidden or indiscernible, the lone black auto on a strangely empty street--create a visual metaphor for the emotions of a family about to send its youngest off to war.

This date also started a flurry of letters back and forth between Ebner, as everyone in the family called Frank, and his family and friends. I hope to post excerpts of several of the letters, on or close to the day they were written. So keep tuned.

Note: parts of this post were published in February, 2011.

Family poses with baby on dead dog!

Growing Family: Lisi and Josef Gartz with sons,
Wilhelm, standing; Friedrich on dad's knee.Late 1915 or early 1916. 

Last week I posted photos of my mother taken in 1918, showing the dual sides of her personality. . On this page are are family photos of the Gartz family, the one below taken about the same time as my Mom's photos. Lisi, my paternal grandmother made sure the family had regular formal portraits taken, sending copies back home to both her and Josef's families in Romania. I have many letters thanking her for the pictures.

If you've been following along, you know this blog started with the postcards and love letters from Josef Gärtz to his sweetheart, Lisi Ebner (see Can Love Last 100 Years?), many of which were written as he made way toward America from Transylvania. You can read more of  Josef's diary recounting that harrowing trip, including Terror Atop the Train, if you scroll down on the right side of this page, to "Blog Archives," and click on "December, 2010."

In the photo above, my dad (I'd say he's about 12-14 months old)  is standing on his father's knee. 

Below is a photograph that hadn't been part of any family album, and I only recently discovered it.  Maybe the full content explains why. 

My grandparents, Josef and Lisi, are on the left, and their sons, Wilhelm (nicknamed "Helmie" as a little boy) and my dad, Fred (left) are seated. I don't know the other two adults on the right, but the baby must be theirs. 

They're all posing in front of a typical West Side Chicago back porch. It seems to be a special occasion based on the clothing. Perhaps it's the Christening of the baby, center. But what's with posing the baby on a stuffed dead dog! 

I'd love to crop the photo to see just my Dad and Uncle Will, but scroll down to the bottom to see what I'd get! The dog's very dead head comes with the close-up. What would you do? 

Josef and Lisi Gartz, Left; Fred and Will Gartz seated. About 1918

Friedrich Samuel (called "Sam" by his family), left  and Wilhelm
("Helmie" or "Will"), right. Dog's name unknown!

Locker room talk spawns interview

Joan Brunwasser,
editor and
interviewer

See Joan's interview with me here: Digging Up Family History

"Hey, Linda! What have you been up to, lately?" Joan, a fellow-swimmer at our local YMCA asked me recently. So unfolded my tale of discovery and obsession of the last decade: getting to know dead people in ways I never had in life. 

Of course, I'm talking about the vast trove of family history that feeds this blog.

A couple weeks later, dressing in the Y locker room, she said,  "Linda, I  I'm hooked on your blog!" She asked to interview me about the backstory to how Family Archaeologist came about. Thanks, Joan! 

Like all of us cruising through Y water, Joan Brunwasser has a life on land revealed to me only when we stopped splashing and started conversing

Joan has been Election Integrity Editor since 2005 for Op-Ed News.com, a source of wide-ranging news stories and opinions with a progressive bent. She co-founded Citizens for Election reform in 2005. The goal, stated on her OpEd News profile page is "to restore fair, accurate, transparent, secure elections where votes are cast in private and counted in public."

Joan has conducted more than 560 interviews for Op-EdNews.com, with artists, politicians, environmental activists, film-makers, writers––you get the idea, all sorts of people who work in every facet of human endeavor. 

Her articles also appear at Huffington Post, RepublicMedia.TV and scoop.co.nz

Here's Joan's interview about how this blog came to be: Digging up Family History. 

He really loves me!

Just one week after Fred's  May 10, 1942, letter to his mother, detailing the trauma of his dismissal from the Kingsbury Ordnance Plant in La Porte, Indiana,(see War & Bigotry & following three posts) he was back in Chicago. Perhaps his raw emotions from that encounter made him appreciate Lil and her support more than ever. It's a turning point.  Read on!


May 17, 1942 

Fred told me at 2:30 a.m. Sunday, 5-17- really that he loves me and as a matter of co-incidence - one split second before he did so, I murmured, “Je t’aime,” which of course, he did not understand.

Ever since then we have been happier than ever before in our lives. Oh, we’ve been doing some lovin’ since 5-16-42. Fred tells me the nicest things––that he loves me more all the time. I get sweeter as time goes on; that he’s never loved anyone like he has loved me. That he has wanted many things badly in his life, but never anything half so much as he wants me.

I, too, love him as I have never loved anyone before, barring none. He is the first man that could make me feel “excited.” I never tire of kissing him and vice versa.

It’s amazing how much we have in common––

Dancing
Swimming
Walking
Horse-back riding
Hiking
Singing
German

etc. etc. etc. 


We have never had an argument since our first date 8-15-41. So if we won’t be happily married, who will?


I love the naive certainty of true love. Surely this list of mutually-shared hobbies should be enough to get them through all the vicissitudes life will throw in their paths! 

It takes me back to the letter my grandmother's boss, Mrs. Jickeli (Yuh-KAY-lee), sent to her (Lisi)  after Lisi ran off to America to marry my grandfather in 1911. Mrs. Jickeli wanted to warn Lisi against unrealistic youthful expectations. In the post, Your Uncertain Fate, Mrs. Jickeli wrote to Lisi two months after she arrived in Chicago and married my grandfather, Josef. The letter was dated December 10, 1911:

 "...you are now a wife and so will be the victim of the painful and changing nature of life." 

Not the most positive message to a young bride, but then, as in the Jewish wedding tradition, in which the groom crushes a glass underfoot to remind the happy couple that joy must be tempered, Mrs. Jickeli was sharing with Lisi a dose of realism. Lil, too, would find that even for the happiest of couples, time throws its curve balls. 

Perhaps it's better we don't know all the outcomes of so many of life's decisions––or we might be paralyzed with inaction! 

Lynn Palermo at the Armchair Genealogist is hosting a month of the "Family History Writing Challenge." If you haven't yet begun, click on latter link to get started writing your family history. Lynn has been kind enough to ask me to write a guest post for her blog for this upcoming Friday, February 10th, so check in at her blog to pick up "Seven tips to meet the challenge." 

Next week, to celebrate Valentine's Day, I'll be posting the cute card Lil sent to Fred 70 years ago and a reprise of the 101 Year old Valentine from Josef Gartz to his sweetheart, Lisi.

War and Bigotry!

La Porte, IN Courthouse
postcard Fred sent to his family

In the post, Explosive News, we heard that my dad, Fred, a chemist, quit his job with Lanteen to make almost double the salary as a blasting powder blender at the Kingsbury Ordnance Plant in LaPorte, Indiana. He started the job on March 30, 1942.

After Lil’s Easter post on April 5, 1942, she didn’t write for several weeks, until she made this startling entry.

May 16, 1942  

Fred lost his job in Indiana through no fault of his. He felt so blue, poor guy, particularly over the injustice of it all. One thing Fred did find out through this experience is that he could fight back against any odds. He didn’t give up until he found out why he was canned. 
[Mom also turned to shorthand in this entry, discussing what she understood about the dismissal (revealed below)––but clearly wanting to keep her thoughts hidden, perhaps for the same reasons Fred was fired? Thank you to Sandy Arnone, blogger extraordinaire at Spittal Street, for helping me decipher sections of Mom's shorthand].

This is a tale about being “the other,” during war, even as a United States citizen. Most Americans know about the shameful injustice perpetrated against Japanese-American citizens during World War II. More than 100,000 were rounded up and sent to “internment camps.”

But many are unaware that thousands of German-Americans also suffered this knee-jerk discrimination. Internment camps were set up to hold not only Japanese Americans, but also those with Italian and German heritages.

My father became victim to anti-German bigotry, despite the fact that he and his brothers were natural-born American citizens and both his parents had attained American citizenship around 1920. A further irony is that my father’s parents had no affiliation to Germany: they were from Transylvania, in Romania after WWI, ethnic Germans whose ancestors had emigrated from Alsace in 1770 (my grandfather’s side) or had been driven out of Austria in the 19th century (my grandmother’s side), the latter because of religious bigotry against Lutherans.

Dad had often told the story of how he was fired, without warning, from the Kingsbury Ordnance Plant, just two months after starting, but I recently found a letter that detailed his reaction to this traumatic experience as it unfolded.

On Sunday, May 10, 1942 (Mother’s Day), Fred wrote an eight-page letter to his mother and family, explaining his summary dismissal, the outright lies and run-around about the reasons behind his firing, and how he fought back to get at the truth and clear his and his family’s name. As Lil notes in her diary entry, he tapped a reservoir of confidence he hadn’t realized he possessed.

These are the key events in the story, all culled from that May10th letter.

On Monday May 4th, Fred was in the lab at the Kingsbury Plant when Mr. Barab, one of his bosses, called Fred into his office. With no explanation nor prior warning, Barab told him, “I have a very painful duty to do, Gartz, but I’ll have to let you go.”

“Why?!" Fred was flat-out blindsided.

“I don’t know.”

“How can I find out?”

“Perhaps at the personnel department.”

Barab gave Fred a “termination slip” so he could pick up the pay due to him. A security guard escorted Fred to Personnel, to ensure he turned in his identification badge.

Fred refused to give up the badge until he had a full explanation as to why he was being fired. No one was available in personnel except a Mr. Vail, who “was reluctant to give out any information” and told Fred, “You’ll know what’s wrong.”

“I certainly don’t know what’s wrong!” said Fred. “This entire department is incompetent if I can’t even get the truth!” For my dad, who hated confrontation, this aggressive statement reflected the level of outrage and frustration he felt.

Fred wrote, “Mr. Vail got sore and told me to leave. I said I wouldn’t until I found out who could give me information leading to my dismissal.”

Vail replied that nothing could be done, but implied that the trouble had to do with the quality of Fred’s work, which Fred knew “was patently untrue.”

“My work has always been satisfactory,” he told Vail, who summarily dismissed Fred from his office.

Going back to the Personnel office, the security guard pressured Fred to give up his badge because his day was up and he wanted to go home. “I’m not leaving until I find out why I was fired,” Fred told him. “It may be a little overtime for you, but to me it’s a job."

In my goal to keep these posts readable within a few minutes, I'm breaking up this story into parts. I'll continue the story of how doggedly Fred had to work to track down the real reason for his firing next week with "An F.B.I. investigation of the whole family?!"

Like a bolt out of the blue!

On March 22, 1942, Lil has written that she felt “like a hussy” kissing both Burt and Fred and four months after dating the two of them was feeling the stress of indecision.

Just a week later, something clicked.

March 28, 1942,

Burt and I went [out]. Had a pretty nice time. Had a flat tire so Burt and I changed tires at 1:30 a.m.

Suddenly like a bolt out of the blue it came to me definitely and decisively that Fred is the one and only for me. Just no shadow of a doubt left. Funny isn’t it?

I saw Mom’s sudden flash of intuition in decision-making repeatedly over the years. Or maybe it’s just typical of true love. In any case, certainty has replaced doubt.  Now she just had to be patient for Dad to get around to figuring out––or at least saying out loud––that she’s the one for him.

Time to spend a holiday with Fred's parents––at the crack of dawn no less. This had to be love, because Mom was by nature a night owl and getting up for a sunrise Easter service was assuredly quite a sacrifice.

Sunday, April 5, 1942, Easter

This photo isn't dated, but I'm venturing a guess it's 
Easter Sunday, 1942.  The outfits look very "Easterish" 
and I recognize Bethel Church behind them.

Fred and I went to Sunrise Easter Service at Soldier’s [sic] Field. Had to arise at 4:45 a.m. Came to my house for breakfast, which I made. Then to Fred’s house. His mother had me comb out her curls. Guess she likes me. [It will be years before she finds out how wrong she is.]

We went to Fred’s church––the whole family.

While driving to his house, Fred told a little joke.

“A man wanted to marry a beautiful but dumb girl. Beautiful so he could love her; dumb so she could love him.”

Well, I was looking at the funny side of it,” and said, “Like me, huh?”

“I aint’ committin’ myself,” he replied.
“For a few minutes, that made me angry. We had a wonderful day, though.

Garfield Park Conservatory on Chicago's West Side

After dinner at Fred’s, we went to the Garfield [Park] Conservatory where we met Kenny and Arlyne. Then for a drive and dinner at Olson’s.
At Olson’s, Fred said, “When I finally get settled, I want a room for my library and for studying.”

How will that suit you, Lillian?” Kenny joked.

I laughed it off, then said, “Where will I put my piano?”

I’m sure some day I’ll be Mrs. Fred Gartz. He’s just right for me and vice versa. I know we could certainly make a great success of it.

Dad had a very sensitive nature, and, conditioned by a controlling mother to avoid revealing his feelings out loud, my interpretation is that he feared exposing a heart that might be trampled. But Mom's confident prediction is enough for both of them––for now! 

But then there's that "Explosive News" (click to see post) Fred gave Lil that he's been hired as a "blasting powder blender" at  the Kingsbury Ordnance Plant in LaPorte, Indiana. Little do they knew that this job will shortly "blow up in his face" when the insidious bigotry of a country at war infiltrates the minds of narrow-minded, frightened men. 

Next week: Bigotry Blow-up.

Hello, Darling. Hello, Sweetheart.

Fred & Lil Nov. 9, 1941

Lil and Fred are at it again--this time it’s a date to go horseback riding--if rain doesn’t interfere. These two knew how to party--Lots of kissin’, a good deal of drinking, out till 4 a.m -- and an ambiguous “snack” described near the end. 

Sunday, October 5, 1941

Here I am again!

Fred phoned my home yesterday afternoon....Mom relayed on to me the message about Fred so I phoned his house at once and Bill [Fred's older brother] answered the phone. Fred was out so Bill asked me for him to go riding that night with a gang. Of course I said yes, although I’m not very good at it yet.

Further it was raining cats and dogs, but he mentioned we would all go to a house party if it was still raining. I always get such a thrill when Fred calls me!

I did a little shopping, dashed home and was ready when Fred called for me. It was raining all evening so we all went to a house party on the South Side. All the gals were in riding breeches, and, for that matter, so were the men.

Had a simply wonderful time. We had about seven Scotch and sodas, sang many songs to the accompaniment of Hank, who is a wonderful popular-style pianist. Fred and I played billiards, and he won (my first time playing that game.)

Fred and I also danced the Beer Barrel Polka, our theme song, then sank exhausted on the bed they have in the basement for lounging use, by way of explanation. Later someone turned out the lights, so Freddie and I took advantage of the situation. He’s so darned sweet!

We had a lovely “snack” later and got home at 4:00 a.m. Freddie and I kissed just about all the way home. I never seem to tire of kissing that lad. (If I don’t marry him, this sure would make mighty interesting reading to some other spouse. It had better be he --for me!!) If not, this goes in solitary confinement.

Friday,  Oct. 10, 1941  [Fred's Birthday]  

So having already reported on the eve of October 4, I shall now write about Fred’s birthday celebration.

I had caught another terrific cold Sunday, which took til Tuesday to come out full force. Freddie phoned me last night fo the date. I met him at Lewis Institute - Damen and Madison - and ran into his brother, Bill, in front of the school, who was there to take care of Fred’s books.

We went with Kenny Eggen and his gal friend, Arlyne Hennings - a lovely tall blonde model. Went to the “Glass Hat” cocktail lounge in the Hotel Graemere. Had about six scotch and sodas and really had a grand time. Fred and I soloed again as usual. Danced a waltz and the Beer Barrel [Polka] to the organ music interlude between band sessions.

Fred had their precious car tonite - took a taxi to his house.

When kissing me goodnight, he paused and said, “Hello Darling,” and I for the first time in my life - said “Hello Sweetheart” to a man.

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A little jealousy doesn't hurt

Lillian Koroschetz, 1937, age 20
about 3 years before meeting Fred

We've been following along with Lillian Koroschetz, my mom, as she writes about the joy of falling in love with my dad seventy years ago, in 1941. To start at the beginning of Lil's diary entries of falling for "Freddie" see Falling in Love 70 Years Ago.

Since her previous entry on September 3rd,  Lil has had to wait almost  three weeks before she heard from Fred again.  What's wrong with that young man?

Mon. Sept 22, ’41 

I thought I had been deserted by my Freddie and was becoming angry with him. But he called at work today. He wanted to go swimming, but I was afraid to since I had caught a cold after our last date. It had already started the day we went swimming.
So he came to my new address - 2714 Marshfield--and we sang songs and I played piano -- I’m practicing again and picking up faster than I have in my life.

At 8:00 pm we went to the Vine Gardens, had beer and danced and danced and talked and talked.

Then we walked to the Question Mark Pier where it was "veddy, veddy" dark and embraced each other by our lonesomes.

We waited for a street car quite a while at North Ave. and Ashland. Wow! We just waited an eternity it seemed. Fred gave me his suit coat because I was cold. We were just going to take a taxi when a street car came. I got home at 4:00 and Freddie, I discovered later, got home at 6:00 am. (At the Vine Gardens, several people complimented us on our dancing.)

Lil and Fred's next date is five days later. Maybe she gave him a "talking to," but it's still a day-before invitation. An old boyfriend, Frank, from a year earlier, horns in on Fred's best girl at a Germania Club dance. Lil handles it, but thinks that maybe a little jealousy is in order!

Saturday, Sept 27, [1941] 

Freddie phoned me last night for tonite’s date. We went to some “San Verein’s” concert and Dance at the Germania club. Met Frank Schiller, Carl Schodt, and the entire German Club Gang there. Frank danced a number with me and upon returning me to Fred, Frank kept saying, “We ought to see more of each other, etc. etc. And don’t I agree.”

I said I was afraid I had to disagree and was rather embarrassed.

But then Freddie could see at least that I could go out with someone else besides him if I so desired. But I don’t so desire.

We did some crazy things tonite like sliding down the bannisters, dancing in the balcony where we had some room -- and incidentally, Fred could cool off for a moment or so by removing his coat.

We also fixed up a little fencing they had up there into a square enclosure and danced in there.

Around 3 AM Freddie and I left and walked over to his laboratory which he wanted to show me. So we went through the whole thing and I got so sleepy. We took a taxi home and I promptly snoozed off on Fred’s shoulder. Another wonderful time.


Mom would learn over the years that Fred had no end of "crazy" ideas. He definitely thought "out-of-the box." But that's another story.


Coming Up: November 18th: the first anniversary of this blog:  Family Archaeologist,   and November 19th -- a double date to remember: the 101st anniversary of the oldest missive in my collection: a Names' Day postcard from Josef Gartz, my grandfather, to Lisi Ebner, his future wife and also -- the anniversary of the day my parents met.


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Happy Anniversary, Fred and Lil 1942 - 2011

Fred and Lillian Gartz, Nov. 8, 1942, outside church

I’m getting a little ahead of myself here, but this post isn’t really a spoiler. After all, you did know my parents would be getting married -- right? So even though I’m posting entries from my mom’s diary from seventy years ago, describing her and my Dad’s courtship, I just couldn’t allow their 69th anniversary to pass without celebrating it on my blog! November 8, 1942, was the big day. After this post, it will still be fun to follow along in Mom's diary to see how they get to this happy ending.

Their invitation tells us the wedding took place on a Sunday, and this article about the event, ("Miss Koroschetz Weds Fred Gartz At Bethel Church") published in the West Garfield Park local newspaper, The Garfieldian, includes wonderful sartorial details: 

"The bride wore a gown of egg-shell satin with a fingertip veil held in place with a seed pearl tiara. Her flowers were white chrysanthemums." The matron of honor wore a "gown of fuschia velveteen and net with a Juliet cap and carried pom poms." The bridesmaids' gowns "were of plum velveteen and net." Mom saved small samples of the fabric, labelled as to who wore which.

Mom planned the bridesmaid’s outfits to be practical. It was the war years, after all, and Mom wanted her bridesmaids to get use out of the outfits after the wedding. Remove the net over the skirts, and each had a beautiful velveteen suit. 

Of course, being a skilled executive secretary for the president of the Bayer Company, mom created a minute-by-minute run-down of the ceremony and reception, who had to be where at which time.

Speaking of the reception, what do you think that might have cost back in 1942? So glad you asked! Here's the receipt for the Central Plaza Hotel. It appears to include everything. I'm assuming the line item: "32 covers @ $1.50 each" refers to the cost per plate of dinner. If you have a different idea, weigh in. Cake for 32:  $12.50. Juke box: $10.00. The rest, including candles, tax, tip, ferns, and a case of ginger ale comes to a grand total of $72.60. I know my parents weren't tee-totalers, so they must have supplied the liquor separately.

Eva Coleman, a voice major and friend of Dad's from  church, sang "Because." Everything went without a hitch--except for one. Ken Eggen, Dad's best friend and one of the groomsmen, fainted dead away during the ceremony. Dad immortalized this memorable event in a loving poem he wrote to Mom for their tenth anniversary. Its cadence is reminiscent of "The Raven," written by Edgar Allen Poe about his lost love, Lenore.  I’ve included Dad's poem below, just as my dad would have presented it to Mom, handwritten on parchment, carefully laid out to keep each line straight and beautiful. (Just a little note: in stanza 4, "Blitzbuggy," refers to my dad's 1929 Model A Ford. "Blitz" means "lightning." To learn a little more about this special steed, and its role in World War II, see the post, Blitzbuggy––A Car with History.)

When we get back to their courtship in the fall of 1941, we'll see how a little jealousy may have kept Fred on his toes. 

Please click below this post on the red word, "comments." Any ideas what your parents' or grandparents' weddings cost? It would be fun to compare notes.

Left to Right, Ken Eggen (who fainted during the ceremony) Frank
Ebner Gartz (17-year old brother to Dad), Lillian, Fred, Will Gartz (Dad's
29-year old brother). Seated: Arlyne Hennings, Myrtle Haling, Gertrude
Nowles, maid of honor.